“X” in “Lithuania in Crisis”
X
THE RISE OF NAZI GERMANY was cause for concern to many European nations. The particular source of Lithuanian uneasiness was Germany’s desire to recover Klaipėda (Memel). The Klaipėda problem made the Lithuanian authorities rather pessimistic about future relations with Germany. They believed that the problem could not be resolved without far-reaching concessions to the Germans which the Lithuanians felt they could not make. From 1935 on, government officials in Kaunas regarded Germany as a peril to Lithuania.1 Military and political leaders frequently alluded to the dangers which surrounded Lithuania and led the people to believe that the nation’s liberty would be defended against any attempt to violate it. Thus, the popular reaction to the loss of Klaipėda was highly emotional.
Resolution to Resist
RETURNING HOME from Switzerland, Lithuanian Foreign Minister Juozas Urbšys stopped in Berlin to pay a call on German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop. In the name of the Führer, Ribbentrop presented Urbšys with a demand for the return of Klaipėda, a “burning matter” to Germany.2 On March 22, 1939, Lithuania yielded.
The surrender of Klaipėda to Germany struck Lithuania with unprecedented effect. Never in its brief political renaissance, whether in the time of the early wars for independence or in the later months of decline, had a blow by an enemy caused the Lithuanian people to demand with such resolute unanimity the realization of national unity and the defense of the nation’s liberty. None called for war against the western power, but the general consensus was never to retreat again. Yet at no previous time was the nation’s will to defend itself so divorced from its potentiality to do so as at that moment. Consequently, as in past and future exigencies, popular sentiment, which was prepared for the worst, had to submit to official prudence, which could only hope for the best.
In anticipation of a spontaneous eruption of nationwide indignation, the Council of Ministers hastened late on March 22, 1939, to declare a state of emergency in all of the country’s districts, with the exception of those adjacent to Germany.3 This precautionary move placed additional powers to cope with potential unrest in the hands of security organs.
In the forefront of the universal uproar, the Christian Democrats and the Populists, the principal parties of Lithuania’s loyal opposition, proceeded to channel the mounting discontent in two directions. They urged the citizens to retain their confidence in the nation’s future, and they advocated the institution of a more representative government than the one which had presided over the country’s destiny for over a decade. In a government-censored editorial the foremost Catholic newspaper XX Amžius (Twentieth Century) mirrored the public frame of mind and aired its opinion and program for future political action:
We shall be independent. We shall work, sacrifice ourselves, and shall not be daunted by any barriers. Prone to work, with a sense of intense devotion, [and] the love of independence, we continue in the new confines of our state until death. But we must without delay review all the blunders in our foreign and domestic policies, lest new blows come our way. We have already reiterated thousands of times how to manage our domestic affairs. There is only one road to the future—to come to terms [with the parties of opposition], to rally all, all!4
An almost identical Populist appeal, obviously the consequence of previous consultations by the members of the opposition,5 was published the following day by the party organ Lietuvos Žinios (News of Lithuania).6
Lesser journals throughout the land similarly registered exasperation and resolve: “This awful wrong,” resounded a provincial paper, “must not deject us. Let us not cease to believe in the independence and freedom of our nation. The determination to defend our beautiful farmsteads, our sacred fatherland, must attend our moves. May the spirit of the first volunteers7 be revived within us! Let us maintain unity, let us put aside all quarrels! . . . It is better to die than to be a slave!”8
The Nationalist media, expressing government views, sought to rationalize Lithuania’s defeat. They termed the surrender “a harsh necessity . . . which we have no strength to fight. Germany’s demand is a demand of force. We must heroically bear the pain inflicted upon us.”9 The Nationalist rhetoric was distinctly terse, detached, imperious, and frequently ostentatious.
As popular distress mounted in breadth and intensity, during the next several days, the press abounded with patriotic banners, such as: “Not a foot of our land to the enemy!” “A nation’s greatest treasure is its freedom and independence!” “Never has a healthy nation perished, once it firmly resolved to defend its independence!” “Never have Lithuanians allowed themselves to be subdued by force. Our enemies have succeeded in subjugating us only by deceit!” Neither deterred nor encouraged by the government, the views of the press represented a truly spontaneous reaction.
To the strain of animated and martial demonstrations among old and young alike, the popular and influential commander of the army made his ponderous contribution. General Stasys Raštikis, the munificently bemedalled personification of the nation’s military, advised his countrymen to adapt themselves to the new circumstances. He suggested the need for reorganization of the government on a broader basis, and he vowed to fight for the country’s independence should it be threatened in the future.10 His advice was superfluous, his pledge intemperate; but his veiled admonition to the Nationalist government was an intervention into the civilian domain that could not be disregarded.11
On March 23 leaders of fourteen military, political, youth, and professional organizations published their “sacred hope” that in this “serious hour” every Lithuanian would perform his duty to his country.12 The duty all nationals were expected to honor was the display of sobriety and restraint, top civic virtues which the regime was eager to cultivate.
Finally, on March 28 the venerable veterans of revolutionary wars published their wrathful appeal: “We shall not bear disgrace. Our descendants would curse us if we did not show that we value the Freedom of our Country more than our lives. We must defend ourselves by all means! Not a single foot of our land without a fight!”13 Such was the nation’s reaction to the loss of Klaipeda.
Economic Consequences of the Loss of Klaipeda
THE GERMAN ANNEXATION of the western slice of Lithuania necessitated the internal resettlement of some 12,000 refugees,14 which further disrupted the national economy. The impact of this situation, however, produced different effects upon individual branches of the economy.
In March and April 1939, customer withdrawals caused banking and credit institutions to lose as much as 42.25 million lits, or 19 per cent of their total deposits. Of these, only 10.5 million lits were returned to the banks before the eruption of hostilities in September. Uncertainty about the nation’s future retarded financial recovery.15 The surrender of the country’s sole seaport also inflicted severe losses on industry and trade. The manufacturing concerns of Klaipeda, grouped in Table 19, whose output in 1937 had stood at 116 million lits, accounted for approximately 30.7 per cent of Lithuania’s total industrial production.16 Furthermore, as much as 75.5 per cent of the nation’s exports and 68.2 per cent of its imports passed through the Baltic port.
The loss of Klaipeda impaired the interests of neighboring farmers who in the past had relied heavily on their commercial ties with the city. Their agricultural goods which were set aside for home consumption supplied the needs of the urban market. Since these provisions ordinarily were inferior to those reserved for export, a leading economist suggested that the disappearance of this ready outlet for inferior farm produce would benefit agriculture in western Lithuania by compelling local farmers to raise the quality of their yield.17 In view of the fact that the detached area was but a minor producer of export farm commodities and that, on the whole, it served only as a limited market for agricultural goods, the losses to the rural economy did not amount to very much.
Demands for Coalition Government
WIDESPREAD DEMANDS for a more representative government were voiced at once. From two quarters, pressure was brought to bear on the Presidential residence. After a prior interchange of views among Catholics, Populists, and followers of former Prime Minister Augustinas Voldemaras, the opposition suggested to the outgoing Nationalist Prime Minister Vladas Mironas that the next administration include representatives of other parties.18 Simultaneously, however, a more efficacious counsel than this political demarche accomplished a Nationalist reverse.
Amid general discontent and traces of Communist agitation,19 army commander Raštikis made several appearances before the President and told him in private what he had been broadcasting in public, namely, that the army favored the formation of a coalition government. But President Smetona was loath to yield to “public psychosis” and thus furnish the opposition with an opportunity to claim political victory. Instead, he suggested the resort to police measures and added that he would think about the formation of a new government only after things had quieted down.20 The general persisted in his efforts. He was apprehensive lest police measures fail and the army be called upon to restore public order. This possibility apparently impressed the Nationalist President, who agreed to the idea of a new cabinet but remained adamant against the proposed participation of opposition candidates. Nevertheless, the general prevailed on President Smetona to share political responsibility with the Catholics and the Populists. In deference to his army chief’s persistence, the President named General Černius to head the new Council of Ministers.21
TABLE 19
The Klaipeda Industries,
1939
Source: Tarulis, “Klaipėdos krašto pramonės netekus” p. 293.
This cabinet of joint action, as it was popularly known, came into being on March 27. It made history when it unveiled for the first time in more than a decade the names of four eminent opposition leaders as members of the cabinet. Because of the broad powers which the constitution vested in the President, the control of the government still rested with Smetona; but the fact that such a change had taken place at all was overlooked by none.
The admission into the Černius cabinet of Populists and Christian Democrats was not without awkward effects. Formally, there was no such thing as a Christian Democratic or a Populist party, for all opposition movements and their regional organizations had been banned. Their curtailed existence was nevertheless real. Formally, the outlawed parties did not delegate their representatives to the new government. There had not been any lengthy talks between the Premier-designate and the opposition, but in actuality their backing of the new government was evident to all.
Both parties adopted the position that their ministers had consented to serve in the government not as party functionaries but as private citizens, even though their association with the administration had been sanctioned by their central committees. For this reason both the Nationalists and the Catholic-Populist opposition were disinclined to call the Černius government a coalition government and instead employed ambiguous phrases to describe it. A new power relationship had resulted from the momentary triumph of public will over political realism. The forces of the three major political movements in the country had come together, for a duration that no one could predict and with consequences no one could foresee, to advance a common cause. The man in the street made no mistake about it.
In their immediate reaction to the retreat, the Nationalists hoped to tone down the fundamental change that had occurred by placing excessive emphasis on the four army generals who sat on the new Council of Ministers. This, they insisted, was designed to cement closer ties between the general public and the army. Unity, in their opinion, was real only when it was sustained by discipline, when a nation led by one will pursued one goal. The army supplied individuals well qualified to serve a government of national unity, and its graduates knew best how to command and how to obey.22
Catholics, Populists, and Social Democrats, on the other hand, were unanimous in their generous endorsement of the new administration. Their press carried a great number of reports registering nation-wide support for the new cabinet of joint action. The Nationalists’ and the opposition’s divergent attitudes toward this government were indicative of latent discontent which was momentarily drowned out by a flurry of public rejoicing in the new “unity.”
The Lithuanian Patriotic Front
AT THE SAME TIME that the coalition government was being assembled, a venture of a different nature vied for attention in Kaunas. Hoping to rally Lithuanians of all convictions behind the government, the veterans of revolutionary wars suggested the formation of a Lithuanian Patriotic Front. The plan would have substantially altered the entire political setting. Not only did it foresee the extension of the ban on the activities of opposition parties, but it envisaged the dissolution of the privileged Nationalist Union as well.
The would-be reformers wasted no time in implementing their ideas. On March 29 some three thousand college students founded an academic chapter of the Patriotic Front.23 The following day Lietuvos Aidas (Echo of Lithuania), an organ of the Lithuanian Nationalist Union and the Nationalist administration, carried the veterans’ appeal, entreating all citizens to back this “universal movement” which pledged to promote political tolerance, to bring about a reconciliation of the quarreling factions, to mobilize all available means in order to reactivate national, social, and economic development, and to make use of the talents of the younger generation.24
The Nationalists predictably wanted none of this unsolicited initiative. They published the veterans’ appeal, but refrained from taking an unequivocal stand until the government ruled one way or another. They judged that the idea of a Patriotic Front amounted to an inclination, on the part of some individuals, to look for new means to realize the ideal of national unity. The Nationalists declined to venture beyond that until more information became available.25 This inconclusive reaction is indicative of the uncertainty which penetrated the Nationalist ranks in the immediate aftermath of governmental reorganization.
The proposed formation of the Patriotic Front was vetoed by the new cabinet on April 3. The current state of affairs, Interior Minister Kazys Skučas asserted, called for discipline and sobriety, attributes which the program of the Patriotic Front would not bring into being.26 The Council of Ministers, which advised the citizens to join the ranks of the national guard instead of the Patriotic Front, secured the endorsement of the army commander for its decision. Raštikis’ interest in politics became apparent once again.27 Government disavowal of the veterans’ services gave the new administration a green light to proceed with its work.
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