Delivering on Promises

When he addressed his countrymen for the first time as their new President, beneath the crystal chandeliers of Queluz Palace outside Lisbon last week, General Antonio de Spinola looked more like a statesman than a soldier. He wore rimless reading glasses and a somber black dress uniform rather than the jaunty monocle and olive battle fatigues that have been his trademarks. "I am assuming my new mandate with a clear conscience," he said, "because I have never considered politics all that alluring."

Politics must appear particularly unattractive to him now. As the junta's choice to head the state until general elections are held next spring, Spinola will preside over one of the most disparate ruling coalitions in the Western world. The 14-man interim Cabinet consists of three Socialists, two Communists, three left-centrists, five independents and one military officer. The Cabinet does not include members of the junior officer corps that initiated the April 25 "captains' coup" and deposed Premier Marcello Caetano.

Cheering Citizenry. Portugal's new Premier is Adelino da Palma Carlos, 69, a moderate who is a law professor with a reputation as an apolitical technocrat. Alvaro Cunhal, 60, the Moscow-oriented Communist Party chief who returned from exile in Eastern Europe, was named minister without portfolio; his party deputy, Avelino Pacheco Gonc,alves, 35, is Minister of Labor. Moderate Socialist Leader Mario Scares, 49, who has conducted a sweeping tour of Europe since the coup, is Portugal's new Foreign Minister.

Spinola seemed to be holding the coalition together and keeping potential opponents at bay by the sheer force of his popularity. As he left the palace after his inauguration, 15,000 citizens cheered him, and his Mercedes was showered with white carnations. The frosty general broke into a rare smile and returned his supporters' V-for-victory sign. Even an obscure left-wing splinter group called Movimento Anarquista dos Homosexuais Revolucionarios pledged its unswerving loyalty to the new regime. Another band of anarchists marched into a government office demanding recognition as a "democratic opposition." When an official patiently explained that the government itself was now democratic, the firebrands shouted "Viva Spinola!" and withdrew to "reorganize."

While the dramatic ending of repression continued to generate an air of political euphoria, Portugal's economic problems looked more serious than ever. The coalition government's vague promises of price stabilization and better working conditions did little to quell the increasing restlessness of Portugal's workers, who are the poorest paid in Western Europe and have to cope with an annual 30% inflation.

Rolling Heads. Last week wildcat strikes spread from Portuguese firms to several American and other foreign companies that built factories in Portugal to employ cheap labor. Workers struck the Timex and Bayer corporations, demanding more than 50% raises. All four Firestone tire plants were shut down by discontented employees, while ITT executives bargained anxiously to head off a walkout at the semiconductor plant in Cascais. "The workers are looking for heads to roll," said a nervous Dutch director of ITT. "The situation could erupt at any moment."

The new government, too, was worried that unrest would turn into chaos. The junta impaneled impartial commissions to mediate labor disputes. It also issued a communique warning that some of the agitators stirring up trouble among Lisbon construction workers might be agents provocateurs, former secret policemen seeking to discredit the Spinola regime.

At least as serious as the internal turmoil is Portugal's chronic trouble in its African "provinces." As a compromise between the interests of almost 1 million Portuguese settlers in Africa and militant Africans' demands for total, immediate independence, Spinola wants to grant a measure of home rule to the colonies but keep them linked to "Mother Portugal" in a federation. Last week he guaranteed guerrilla leaders safe-conduct to and from Lisbon to discuss his proposal for a referendum in the colonies on what form "self-determination" in a multiracial federation should take.

The organization least receptive to overtures from Lisbon has been Frelimo (the Front for the Liberation of Mozambique), which stepped up machine-gun and bazooka attacks on highway traffic, forcing trucks and buses to travel under military escort. If a stray dog had not tripped on a wire across some railroad tracks and triggered a mine, the terrorists would probably have blown up a crowded passenger express from Mozambique to Rhodesia. On an inspection trip to the province, General Gomes confirmed that Frelimo was using Soviet "Strella" surface-to-air rockets against the Portuguese air force.

Cease-Fire Offer. There were, however, some encouraging signs. Portuguese Guinea and Angola, the other two African territories, were relatively quiet last week, and Frelimo seemed to be under pressure from some of its Black African sympathizers to give the Portuguese government a chance to extricate itself from the continent peacefully. Zambian Foreign Minister Vernon Mwaanga, who has encouraged Frelimo in the past, said pointedly, "Zambia will support armed struggle by freedom movements only if negotiations fail." At General Gomes' behest, six former political prisoners who had been released after the Lisbon coup met with Frelimo leaders in Tanzania to present a Portuguese offer of a cease-fire and amnesty in exchange for the guerrillas' agreement to lay down their arms and participate in elections in Mozambique.

If that and similar peacemaking efforts succeed, Portugal's "Junta of National Salvation" may well live up to its title and deliver on its promises.

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