Air University Review, January-February 1982

The Problem of Military Elite Cohesion
in Eastern Europe

the case of Czechoslovakia

The armed forces of communist states have been examined on a variety of dimensions. There are numerous analyses of the technical capabilities of these armed forces and of the probable performance of the forces in conflict. Other students of communist armed forces have chosen to concentrate on civil military questions. In communist systems, the civil-military relationship is dominated by the interaction between the hegemonic communist party and the professional military. Concentrating on the tensions that party control policies have brought to the relationship between these institutions, these analysts detail the activities of the party control apparatus, the Main Political Administration. Moreover, the problems that communist states have encountered in developing a professional officer corps, which is both politically indoctrinated (red) and technically proficient (expert), are discussed in depth. Generally, then, the focus has been on the interaction between the party and military with little attention to the relationship between members of the military elite. This is curious because the question of intramilitary politics affects the cohesion of the elite and ultimately, the ability of the elite to effectively manage military affairs.

The armed forces of Eastern Europe are generally understudied, and very little has been written about intramilitary politics in the satellite Warsaw Pact states. Key issues of the ability of the elite to undertake concerted political action and the cohesion of the elite in times of crisis have been afforded virtually no attention. Nevertheless, there is no lack of speculation about how the armed forces and their elites would behave in the event of a NATO-Warsaw Pact confrontation. Additionally, the constant conflict between the Soviet Union and her allies, which produced "fraternal" invasions of Hungary in 1956 and Czechoslovakia in 1968, has led concerned analysts to wonder about the loyalty of the East European forces. It is not too difficult to imagine, for example, circumstances under which the Soviet Union might be faced with armed resistance from elements of the armed forces of the Warsaw Pact nations.

In Romania, it is very possible that the military might resist as a discreet unit. Although it is difficult to predict how well East Europeans would fight in an East-West confrontation, it is almost impossible to say how an East European commander ordered to resist (or not to resist) a Soviet invasion might behave. Even the behavior of the most elite officers, the Minister of Defense or the Chief of the General Staff, is questionable under the circumstances. Would the military elite, professional officer corps, and the rank and file behave as a cohesive group? What role would nationalism play if a national military were ordered not to resist an invading force? These are questions that come to mind more readily in the East European frame of reference than in most others. These concerns reflect the special historical and continuing circumstances of East European political and military development.

The communist regimes that now constitute the Warsaw Pact came to power primarily by force of the Soviet Red Army. Unlike the revolutionary roads to power that established the Soviet and Chinese communist parties, the East European rulers were installed by the Soviet leadership. The Czechoslovak case is somewhat different. After World War II, Czechoslovakia was ruled by a true coalition government with strong communist representation, and the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia actually enjoyed considerable popular support. The onset of the Cold War and the polarization of Europe led to circumstances in which Czechoslovakia’s democratic course was no longer tolerable in Eastern Europe, however. In February 1948, the Communist Party provoked a governmental crisis and seized power. Thus, in 1948, Czechoslovakia joined already communized Bulgaria, Hungary, Romania, and Poland and became a member of the Soviet alliance; the German Democratic Republic (East Germany) was created in 1949.

The postwar armed forces of Eastern Europe were created much like the governments that they served. The institutions were reconstituted to lend legitimacy to the new states of the region, but they were created with insufficient power to threaten the fledgling regimes. The problem of creating loyal military elites was particularly difficult. It was no small matter to find experienced officers in the former Axis satellites (Bulgaria, Hungary, Romania) or in anti-Soviet Poland. The problem was slightly less acute in Czechoslovakia, but most of the best trained officers were strongly pro-Western. The armed forces were thus created with primary consideration of loyalty and only secondary attention to efficiency. The armed forces of the region were weak, Soviet-styled establishments, which actually bore little responsibility for the defense of Eastern Europe. As a result of this inauspicious beginning, domestic legitimacy and prestige have always been problematic for the armed forces of the region.

As time passed, some of these problems have been alleviated, but the loyalty and legitimacy of the armed forces continue to concern party leaders. The officers are now a generation removed from the inglorious alliances with the Axis, and many of them were trained exclusively under communist rule. Presumably these are thoroughly indoctrinated officer corps. But the creation of an officer corps that is red and expert has not removed one critical problem which must be taken into consideration when examining the loyalty, cohesion, and effectiveness of these armed forces and their elites. The armed forces continue to suffer an identity crisis. The major culprit, in this regard, is the client-state nature of military affairs in this region. The members of the elites of East Europe are satellite commanders, subjected to the efforts of both the indigenous party and the Soviet sponsor to control and influence them and to command their loyalty. Presumably this dual control pattern always causes tensions within the military elite, but when there is an overt split between the party and the sponsor, the tensions are more acute and become very pronounced. The dual control and influence pattern is by no means a passive phenomenon. Both the sponsor and the indigenous party have direct and indirect institutional and informal instruments of influence at their disposal, and they do wield them in an attempt to elicit certain behavior.

The Soviet Union controls many of the key interests of the military, most important the level of defense spending and the modernization and technological capability of the fighting forces. Soviet policy toward the East European elites is aimed at forging strong identification with the Soviet Union. Political education not only emphasizes the importance of Marxism-Leninism but paints the Soviet Union as the best example of socialism and fraternal defender of Eastern Europe. There are even appeals to pan-Slavism and in some cases identification with the old Russian empire. Classes in the Russian language, history, and culture attempt to encourage a greater appreciation among the satellite elites of the Soviet Union. Working class heritage, an important requirement for communist officers, is no longer the primary requirement for mobility through the officer ranks. Study in the Soviet Union’s military or military-political academies is also an important factor. Moreover, numerous awards, citations, and special projects are intended to ensure that East European officers remember to whom they owe their prestige and level of advancement.

The party cannot compete for the loyalty of the military elite on these terms. The institutional links between party and military have been disrupted by long years of Soviet domination. No longer completely dependent on Moscow to hold them in power, and bidding for popular support, the communist regimes of Eastern Europe find this severance of links with national institutions problematic. But bearing only minimal responsibility for matters that traditionally interest the military, the members of the party elite must wield other instruments. Wages and benefits, social mobility, and citations are often used, but these are all too constrained by slavish organizational mimicry of the Soviet system. The party is unable to relinquish any modicum of control in exchange for military allegiance, for the Soviet Union insists on uniform party control apparatus throughout the Warsaw Pact. Thus, the party resorts to the one lever of influence that the Soviet Union cannot and appeals to nationalist sentiment. In the sensitive military sphere, the party is often hesitant to appeal outright for military loyalty, but in the Hungarian and Czechoslovak crises, and in Romania, nationalism and the right to a voice in military decision-making did become issues. The artificial separation of internal military nationalization and the external role of national forces is simply too difficult to maintain.

The military elite, then, is capable of influencing its resource allocation only through contact with the Soviet establishment. Confrontations with the party over defense spending and modernization, so prevalent in other societies, simply do not come to the fore. The lack of tension and conflict between these powerless parties and the powerless armed forces has served to undermine the cohesiveness of the military elite.¹ Indeed, there are few causes to which the military can rally and few external "threats" to bring them together. Thus, the inability to participate in the political process contributes to this lack of cohesion. The decisions that the military might be capable of influencing are simply never decided in the domestic political context. They are decided by the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact command.

Certain members of the military elite are attracted by the possibility of once again bearing primary responsibility for the defense of the homeland and of minimizing Soviet control within the institutions. These men respond favorably to appeals to national tradition and heritage. For example, the Romanian military has supported the drive for independence on just such grounds.² Presumably, other members of the elite see nationalism as a threat to the prestige and technological might that association with the Soviet Union can offer and are skeptical of offers of military independence. Permanent splintering of the elite into Muscovite and nationalist factions thereby occurs. The factionalism is indiscernible until crisis periods, but when forced to make a choice between two masters, the factions rapidly surface.

One barrier to the examination of intramilitary relations is the united front with which the communist military confronts the outside world. This veneer of monolithic unity makes it impossible to monitor the deliberations of key members of the elite on even the most superficial issues. But one aspect of elite interaction that can be addressed is the question of cohesion in crisis situations, for here divisions are more apparent. This is an instructive exercise, for it impacts on issues ranging from military reliability in conflict to the ability of the elite to act as a cohesive political force and influence the political process. The Czechoslovak political crisis of 1968 provides an excellent opportunity to study the question at hand. It is acknowledged that there are varying degrees of cohesion throughout Eastern Europe, but the Czechoslovak case affords an opportunity to examine the military under a prolonged period of strain and under the invasion of "fraternal" armies.

This study suggests that the ability of the military elite ³ to act as a cohesive body is more impaired in the satellite states of Eastern Europe than in other communist states. This is not to suggest that intramilitary factions do not exist in all communist societies. Indeed, interservice rivalry and personal and ideological factionalism plague all military elites. But in a society in which the elite has been tailored to fit a very specific mold, in which there is virtually no variation in the backgrounds of the elite officers, and where only conformists rise to the top, it is interesting to note that in times of crisis elite cohesion is a serious problem. Further, this lack of cohesion is a major factor in the reliability problem and in the inability of these elites to influence political policy. In sum, then, it is no accident that the East European military elites are the least cohesive, that the institutions are of questionable reliability, and that their military leaders are often politically isolated.

Before turning to the examination of elite cohesion, we must first ask, "What is a cohesive elite?" It is obviously not an elite without differences and divisions. Similarity of background and ideological predilection is often characteristic of cohesive elites, but a homogeneous elite is not necessarily cohesive. Rather, a cohesive elite is one that in spite of differences is capable of confronting another actor in a united fashion, sticking tightly together in order to win certain shared goals. It is an elite that in times of crisis is capable of concerted effort. Presumably, it is also an elite that is able single-mindedly to follow a given set of commands from national political authorities.

The military elites of Eastern Europe are, of course, by design remarkably homogeneous. Men who rise to the top share several important characteristics. First, they are all members of the Communist Party, and in Czechoslovakia all but one were party members before becoming military officers. Second, all of the men in the sample studied in Soviet academies early in their careers, and all but three returned for advanced study after achieving the rank of lieutenant colonel or higher. All members of this elite with two exceptions served in World War II, the Slovak members having been defectors or repatriated prisoners of war. Finally, all officers claimed working class heritage and were in an age range varying only thirteen years. Yet this extremely homogeneous group fell into serious infighting during the 1968 crisis. Splintering along intramilitary/intraparty lines and eventually along Muscovite/nationalist lines, this group was never able to enjoy the enhanced political prestige the military could have had during the crisis.

The Czechoslovak Crisis
and the Military Elite

Prior to 1967, the Czechoslovak military were inactive both in political affairs and in the defense of the state, for the Czechoslovak forces had inherited a posture of passivity. It should be remembered that in 1938, when German forces occupied Czechoslovak territory, the military offered no resistance, in spite of the fact that most observers believe that the very fine Czechoslovak military could have offered effective resistance against the then relatively weak German forces. Again in 1948, the Czechoslovak Army, at the behest of President Eduard Beneš, was confined to barracks during the political crisis that overthrew the democratic coalition government. In fact, at that time, the armed forces were very weak, heavily infiltrated by communist officers, and in such general disarray that they were not trusted by either the communists or the social democrats. Particularly suspect was the military elite, a heterogeneous group consisting of Western and Soviet sympathizers and a few Slovak collaborators. There is circumstantial evidence, however, indicating that elements within the military planned to overthrow the new communist regime. The coup was supposedly betrayed by an insider.⁴ Whatever the case, the incident was an excellent pretext for the thorough purge of any remaining pro-Western officers.

A professional communist military elite was developed to replace those officers of questionable loyalty. In time, the technical efficiency of the Czechoslovak People’s Army (CPA) increased in concert with the development of the loyal officer corps. By the mid-1960s, the Czechoslovak armed forces were considered the best in Eastern Europe and were enjoying tremendous prestige as the Soviet Union’s junior partner in the extension of socialist resources into the Third World. The Czechoslovaks were so trusted, it is reported, that they participated in on-site training of Third World officers and invited many of them to study in Prague, despite the fact that there were no Soviet troops on Czechoslovak soil and fewer advisers in Czechoslovakia than in East Germany or Poland. Still, the military played almost no domestic political role. Large numbers of military men were purged in the great terror between 1949 and 1953, but there is no evidence of professional military involvement in the subsequent review of these cases. The military press did not even comment on political affairs and confined its reporting to recantations of promotions and rewards, articles on problems of military logistics, and tales of fraternity and assistance among Warsaw Pact nations.

Then, in 1967, Czechoslovak politics collapsed into a state of turmoil. Antonin Novotný, one of the few arch-Stalinists to survive the bloc crises of 1956, finally encountered serious opposition within his own communist party. Initially charged with serious errors in economic policy, Novotný was soon accused of cult of personality and abuses of the presidency and party secretaryship. In January 1968, Novotný was stripped of party leadership and a few months later of the presidency. This crisis is very important in the history of Czechoslovak military development because it represents one of the first times that the military leadership became politically involved.

Much evidence suggests, both Western and Czech, that the military, under Major General Jan Sejna, Party Chief of Military Security, was planning to intervene on behalf of Novotný. The notorious Sejna affair is a curious episode in Czech military history. Briefly, it is believed that Sejna and General Vladmir Janko, Deputy Minister of Defense, both political officers, intended to use the military to prop Novotný. The plan was apparently supervised by Miroslav Mamula, Chief of the Eighth Department of the Central Committee of the Party. The evidence, though somewhat patchy, is nonetheless convincing.

In December 1967 and January 1968, the Czechoslovak armed forces held unscheduled and rare winter maneuvers in which military units circled Prague. In the meantime, a letter was delivered to the Central Committee from the Presidium of the Party of the Armed Forces, urging that the positions of Party Secretary and President remain joined. In essence this position supported Novotný. The letter arrived too late, however. The vote had been taken, and Novotný fell. Two months later, General Sejna was accused of embezzling funds, and it was announced that he had fled the country. He applied for and received asylum in the United States. The next day, General Janko committed suicide. Press accusations flourished, and the affair reached a fever pitch when the Army General Staff published an open letter alleging that a coup had been attempted and implicating Novotný and Mamula. Reports surfaced about the unusual military maneuvers, and the Soviet Union was accused of arranging for Sejna’s safe passage to the United States; however, the Soviets offered vehement denials of activity in the Sejna affair, and Soviet involvement remains unsubstantiated.⁵

That there was an attempted coup has been freely admitted by liberal forces in Czechoslovakia, however. General Egyd Pepich, Chief of the Main Political Administration in 1968, admitted there were deep divisions in the military and revealed that the "army had tried to influence the deliberations of the Party Central Committee in January, 1968.’’⁶ The situation was so serious that Defense Minister Bohumir Lomsky appeared on Czechoslovak television in March 1968, attempting to acquit himself of charges of complicity in the Sejna affair.⁷ In fact, Lomsky denied that the army could be so used, but added, "If somebody else tried to give an order for the abuse of the armed forces behind my back and if it were proved, he must take full responsibility."⁸ Lomsky continued claiming that he held no responsibility for Sejna because Mamula was in charge of the Eighth Department. By most accounts, the coup was canceled, perhaps by Novotný himself, when Major General Vaclav Prchlik, Chief of the Main Political Administration and a Dubcek supporter, learned of the coup and alerted liberal forces. Nonetheless, the coup caused tremendous outrage and contributed to the fall of Novotný.

Within the military there were serious repercussions. The military elite, which was already dividing into conservative and liberal factions, splintered further. Those officers who identified with the liberal cause moved to discredit and dismiss the conservatives, even though many conservative officers knew nothing of the coup. It is important to note that the liberal wing had begun to form long before the 1968 crisis. Documents published in 1968 show that as early as 1966 liberals were warning that democratization of the armed forces must be carried out and that party abuses in the armed forces could not be tolerated. Likewise, there was a conservative wing that warned against democratizing the army too rapidly. By the admission of several officers of both persuasions, this bickering plagued the military elite for some time, at least from the 1966 flare up until the 1968 crisis.

Interestingly, it appears that one cause of internal division was the friction between the liberal political-military leadership under General Vaclav Prchlik and the conservative General Staff under Otakar Rytir. Rytir’s group enjoyed considerable support with the Novotný leadership of the party and with the party organization in the armed forces under General Sejna. The Ministry of Defense was unable to mitigate the friction between these groups, and the minister admitted that this made the army incapable of acting as a unified force.⁹ During the crisis, these divisions worsened, and the officer corps began to polarize completely. Hardliners Otakar Rytir, Chief of the General Staff, and Frantisek Bedrich clashed often and furiously with the Main Political Administration leadership under Pepich and Prchlik. But during the latter months of the crisis, the liberals seemed to be winning the battle for control of the armed forces. Matters pertaining to the role of the party in the army and the need for democratization were gradually replaced by discussion of a national military doctrine and the need for the national military to assume responsibility for the defense of the state. Such dialogue was heresy in the Soviet camp, but the liberals were obviously in control of the military press, and discussion of this kind was the rule rather than the exception. These arguments were followed by the suggestion that Czechoslovakia give primary consideration to its geopolitical and social circumstances and secondary consideration to the alliance. This suggestion enjoyed some support within the Ministry of Defense. These were often remarkable statements in the military press. An A-Revue commentator proclaimed," The army and the party do not serve one class, they serve a nation, a nation of two peoples."¹⁰ For the first time the Czech press cited past abuses in the armed forces and placed the blame squarely on the shoulders of the Soviet leadership, not on nameless reactionaries or demagogues. Throughout June, the liberal discourse within the armed forces continued with the highest members of the elite granting interviews to the radical military press.

The conservative wing of the armed forces was incapable of stemming the liberal tide, and many conservative generals lost their positions of power. Rytir, Lomsky, and Bedrich were all isolated or demoted. In spite of their pro-Sovietism and Moscow’s concern over the course of Czech military affairs, the conservatives were unable to mount any resistance. One explanation lies in the events of January 1968, for though many conservatives knew nothing of the coup episode, the liberals were able to discredit them publicly and within the moderate officer corps ranks. Another seems to have been Soviet underestimation, indeed miscalculation of the depth of liberalism. The Soviets believe in the interchangeability of client commanders and tend to depersonalize relations with client personnel. This time they may have erred in the assessment of liberal sympathies within the military. Pepich lamented the division of the officer corps but claimed that the majority of officers favored liberal ideals.¹¹ Conservative accounts corroborate the admittance of divisions but of course claim that the conservative position was more popular. General Frantisek Bedrich, the postinvasion Chief of the Main Political Administration, stated, "Due to a lack of partisan discipline, there were fissures in the army."¹² Earlier, General Otakar Rytir admitted that he was effectively excluded from party activity in the army after 1968.¹³

During the crisis, more moderate liberals in the party and in the military struggled to keep the focus on democratization and to take attention away from the debates concerning the Warsaw Pact. The tide of liberalism often outstripped the call for moderation, however. A national military doctrine did become an issue. The debate is codified in two sets of documents: the draft Action Programme of the Ministry of Defense and the memoranda of the Klement Gottwald Political-Military Academy. The ideas were startling. Now it was publicly stated that geopolitical rather than class analysis should govern Czechoslovak military doctrine. The authors of the memoranda actually stated that the West German-NATO threat might be exaggerated.¹⁴ Soviet and conservative attacks began after the publication of the memoranda, but they were paled by the furor caused by the nationwide press conference of General Vaclav Prchlik, the Chief of the Eighth Department of the Central Committee in 1968. Prchlik stated that the Warsaw Pact was not governed as democratically as it should be and that joint command should quickly become a reality so that all members could contribute fully. He also implied that an abridgement of Czechoslovak sovereignty should be resisted. Defense Minister Martin Dzur failed to disavow the statement immediately, saying only that the press conference had been favorable in substance but that some of what the general said was incorrect.¹⁵ The Soviets were furious and began to question openly the loyalty of the military elite, the reliability of the Czechoslovak forces, and the preparedness of the CPA in general. Later, the Eighth Department which Prchlik headed was abolished, a move already planned by the liberal wing. Additionally, concessions were made to the Soviets in the composition of the military-political leadership. The liberal General Pepich was removed and replaced by the arch conservative Frantisek Bedrich even before the invasion took place. As a concession to Moscow, Prchlik was not given a new position of comparable military responsibility (although he was nominated for the Central Committee), but in a victory for the liberal forces, he was granted immunity from prosecution. This immunity was lifted one year after the invasion.

This outright confrontation with the Soviet Union dampened the enthusiasm and vigor of the liberal military movement. The upper echelons of the military elite were relatively quiet after the Prchlik affair, however. Shaken by this flirtation with Soviet wrath, the moderate liberals, in particular General Dzur, apparently silenced the more radical wing and moved toward closer cooperation with the Soviet Warsaw Pact Command. That the elite never solidified is evidenced, however, by the continuing attacks of conservative generals upon counterrevolutionary forces in the military. Dzur, a Slovak, is an extremely interesting case during this period. He has sometimes been accused of duplicity in publicly praising the liberalization and privately denigrating the effectiveness of the Czechoslovak military. It is possible, however, that Dzur actually favored some of the reforms but refused to challenge the Soviet Union directly. Whatever the case, he survived the invasion and remains Minister of Defense today.

The conservatives were not yet done. After the invasion, they reasserted control until late 1969, when Gustav Husak and Dzur purged the most conservative elements in an attempt to bring the military back to center. It is reported that the military was once again contemplating political action, this time at the behest of the Soviet Union. The Soviets, it is believed, were impatient with Husak’s slow normalization and threatened to encourage military rule if the process were not accelerated. Generals Rytir and Bedrich were to lead the coup.¹⁶ Husak was able to allay Soviet fears, however, and a military solution was deemed unnecessary. Though these reports have never been definitively proved, the scenario offers one plausible explanation for the subsequent purge of the military’s radical right, in particular Rytir and Bedrich. Perhaps these two and others were unwilling to disavow the need for military solutions. Following the purge of the radical right, the military returned to a position of neutrality.

In the postinvasion period, the military is once again nonpolitical. Nevertheless, there is evidence that the crisis left a greater mark on the military than on any other institution. Over 57 percent of the officers under thirty left the military voluntarily after the 1968 crisis.¹⁷ It is believed that as many as 11,000 officers were purged.¹⁸ The shortages of personnel were truly critical in the 1970s and have not yet been alleviated completely. Military morale and recruitment are acknowledged problems. It is also undeniable that the failure of the Czechoslovak forces to resist has completely undermined the prestige of the military. This image of a useless, reactionary, and expensive military plagues the Czechoslovak establishment and points out the costs for East European forces that do not defend the homeland from fraternal assistance. Obviously the pressures to take the nationalistic road are great. The pressures are equally great to remain neutral and not become embroiled in a conflict with the Soviet sponsor.

In Czechoslovakia, the costs of nonresistance are especially ironic, for the Czechoslovak military elite was following presidential orders. This has not helped to soften the criticism of the military for their failure to defend Czechoslovak national sovereignty, however. In spite of the difficulties of the postinvasion period, Czechoslovak military affairs are calm. On the surface Obrana Lidu and A-Revue have returned to the coverage of rear service problems and praise of the 1944 Soviet effort on Dukla Pass. General Dzur annually thanks the Soviet Union for its fraternal assistance during the time of crisis, and extensive coverage is afforded the visits of Soviet officers to Czechoslovakia.

Between 1971 and 1975, the purge of higher ranking officers was completed, and the thirty or so officers at the top have remained relatively constant (with some genuine retirements) since 1975. The military elite once again appears as a monolith, but given the eruption of factionalism in 1968, first of liberal and conservative groups and then Muscovite and nationalist, it is difficult to believe that all is as calm as it seems. Since 1969, Czechoslovakia has concentrated on being the model satellite, and her military is a thoroughly sovietized institution. This is due in part to the coercive effect of five Soviet divisions in Czechoslovakia and the reinstitution of networks of Soviet advisers within the military elite.

In the post-1968 period, every Czechoslovak officer of general rank was asked to write a new biography, presumably to answer the question, "What were you doing in the crisis of 1968?" Not surprisingly, not one of the top officers who survived the purge admitted to any political activity during the eight-month period, preferring to concentrate on how they continued to discharge their duties even in the face of difficult circumstances.

The 1968 crisis and the behavior of the military elite is instructive, and its lessons cannot be obliterated by the veneer of unity and calm that surrounds intraelite relations. The fact is that the very highest echelons of the Czechoslovak military elite fell to serious infighting and factionalism at the first hint of crisis. This was not factionalism among junior officers. This was splintering at the highest elite levels. But while we have been concerned primarily with elite incohesiveness, it is clear that in the Czechoslovak case the divisions ran deeper below the elite levels. Reported incidents of violence by soldiers against their commanders and tensions among commanders¹⁹ suggest that dual loyalty was a very real problem throughout the Czechoslovak military establishment.

It is difficult to say how much of the Czechoslovak experience is applicable for an understanding of the elite cohesion problem in the remainder of East Europe. Czechoslovak antimilitarism and passivism are not common to other Warsaw Pact states. Surely, Polish nationalism and anti-Sovietism make that case unique, and the reverse is probably true in Bulgaria; but the strains of dual control are common in all states except Romania. The inability to influence political decisions of interest to them and the lack of unifying confrontations with the local party plague the military elites of the five satellite states. Also plaguing to them is the probability of conflict between the party and the Soviet sponsor, which raises the possibility that the members of the elite and ultimately members of the military might again be forced to choose sides. The debate may, as it did in Czechoslovakia, begin as a liberal versus conservative debate, but it soon could evolve into a dispute about the relationship of a national military to its sponsor. At this point, Muscovite and nationalist factions emerge. Just how serious and pervasive these divisions are in the rest of East Europe is difficult to gauge, for without prolonged, monumental crises, one wonders for how long the armed forces can keep the facade of monolithic unity.

The most serious consequence of elite incohesion, emanating from the dual control factor, is that the military cannot be completely trusted by the sponsor or the party in a conflict between them. One must be careful, of course, in extrapolating from intra — alliance conflict to other situations. The Czechoslovak crisis produced the interesting combination of a reformist party and an increasingly reformist military facing internal conservative opposition and a sponsor willing to risk invasion to reverse the reform. Under this circumstance it is noteworthy that the military elite splintered so badly. It is not possible to say what this episode portends for other kinds of conflict. In the case of Warsaw Pact-NATO engagement, factors like the nature and length of the conflict will be of foremost importance. And in situations in which the Soviet Union and the domestic communist party are united against common internal dissension, the problem of dual loyalty and control is presumably less important. Nevertheless, the tension between national loyalty and the control of the Soviet Union to which these elites are often subjected casts doubt on their ability to perform well under strain. This circumstance, unfortunately, only succeeds in clouding the already murky picture of the reliability and cohesion of the Warsaw Pact forces.

1. Dale R. Herspring and Ivan Volgyes, "Political Reliability in the Eastern European Warsaw Pact Armies," Armed Forces and Society, Winter 1980. Herspring and Volgyes identify the lack of conflict with the party as one contributing factor to the incohesiveness of these military elites.

2. Alex Alexiev has identified this rapprochement between the Romanian military and party in which the party has returned considerable autonomy to the military in exchange for military support of the independence drive from the Soviet Union. Alex Alexiev, Party -Military Relations in Romania (Santa Monica: Rand, 1977).

3. In this essay, the term military elite refers to the very highest echelons of the officer corps. While the political importance of other officers is acknowledged, they are generally less visible than their higher-ranking counterparts and presumably have less access to the higher levels of the policymaking apparatus and less responsibility in crises. Further, it is expected that the incohesiveness at these high levels is symptomatic of an even greater lack of cohesion at lower levels.

4. The so-called "Kultvasr coup" is shrouded in mystery. Though Kultvasr was later rehabilitated by the Czechoslovak government, U.S. intelligence at the time maintained the authenticity of the coup. Supposedly, the military action was to take place in conjunction with popular uprisings around Prague. Files of the U.S. Department of State, telegrams and memoranda (declassified), April-July 1949.

5. Pravda, June 11, 1968.

6. Major General Egyd Pepich, "The Army Serves the People," Pravda (Bratislava), March 25, 1968. The Minister of Defense, Martin Dzur, also admitted that the armed forces were about to be misused. A-Revue, July 12, 1968.

7. Radio Free Europe Situation Report, March 13, 1968.

8. Ibid.

9. Martin Dzur in A-Revue, op. cit.

10. A-Revue, no. 6, June 1968.

11. Pepich, Pravda (Bratislava), op. cit.

12. Radio Free Europe Background Report, April 4, 1970.

13. "As General Otakar Rytir Sees It," in A-Revue, no. 10, 1969.

14. "How Czechoslovak State Interests in the Military Are to Be Formulated," Lidova Armada, July 2, 1968.

15. Rude Pravo, August 7, 1981.

16. "The Coup That Never Was," Radio Free Europe Background Report/Czechoslovakia, June 6, 1969.

17. Robert W. Dean, "The Political Consolidation of the Czechoslovak People’s Army," Radio Free Europe Research / Czechoslovakia, April 29, 1971.

18. A. Ross Johnson, Alex Alexiev, and Robert Dean, East European Military Establishments: The Warsaw Pact Northern Tier (Santa Monica: Rand, 1980).

19. Jaroslav Krejci, "We Have Had Our Cross to Bear," Tribuna, August 20, 1969.

Condoleezza Rice (B.S., University of Denver; M.A., Notre Dame University; Ph.D., University of Denver) is Assistant Director of the Stanford University Program on Arms Control and Assistant Professor, Department of Political Science, at Stanford University. She is also consultant to The Rand Corporation and Science Applications, Inc. Dr. Rice was Visiting Fellow with the Arms Control Program and a Ford Foundation Fellow at Stanford.

The conclusions and opinions expressed in this document are those of the author cultivated in the freedom of expression, academic environment of Air University. They do not reflect the official position of the U.S. Government, Department of Defense, the United States Air Force or the Air University.

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