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From behind the Iron Curtain last week came fragmentary but reliable news of how the subject peoples of Eastern Europe reacted to Stalin's death. In the big cities of Rumania, Hungary and Poland, many celebrated the event by covertly hoisting a few drinks. In Budapest the Reds herded some 500,000 into newly renamed Stalin Square on Dozsa György Ut for a mass demonstration of grief; but the crowd responded only with passive sullenness. In Bucharest there was thinly concealed satisfaction on the faces of Rumanians in the street, and a flurry of minor panic among Communist officials. Cars came & went in a steady stream at the home of Rumanian Commissar Gheor-ghiu-Dej, and police guards were expanded at Red Ministers' homes. In some Rumanian villages, small-fry Communist's carried clubs or staves for protection, because they were not sure how people would react. Plain people around Prague were reported guardedly joyful. Red officials were so uncertain of their control that in many of the satellite areas they withheld the news of Stalin's death an extra 24 hours.
From Red Albania, geographically isolated by Tito's defection from the Communist empire, came disconnected and vague reports of rebellion against the government. Czechoslovak Red leaders talked out loud about "reactionary hyenas . . . prowling among us." Radio' Sofia, official mouthpiece of Red Bulgaria, spoke of "traitorous elements" fighting the regime.
Beyond the control or direct threat of the Red army, Communism is facing even sharper difficulties. Malenkov, in his funeral oration, extended Moscow's official sympathy to the Communists fighting in Korea and Indo-China, but significantly he said not one word about Malaya—a tacit admission of defeat there.
In Western Europe, the really important news, so often obscured in the day-to-day haggling, is that the Reds have lost the postwar political battle. They can still make mischief, set off strikes, create sabotage, exploit popular grievances and nullify foreign policy. But in any election where they have sailed under their true Red colors, they have been beaten. They are still big in Italy, and to a lesser degree in France, but in West Germany their numbers have dropped from 300,000 to 100,000; last month in Austria's elections they got but four out of 165 seats. In 1946 there were 16 Communists among the cabinet ministers of Western Europe; now there are none. Their party membership rolls shrink, their newspapers lose readers by the hundreds, in some cases have already folded.