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The ultimate verdict on Gomulka, of course, rests not with Warsaw but with Moscow, which regards him as a good friend but would sacrifice him if hard-lining Polish Communists insisted. The Russians, however, gave little indication of their sentiments. Brief Polish communiques on the riots were broadcast in Moscow, but without comment. The three army divisions that Russia maintains in Poland were alerted, but they remained in their barracks. Obviously, the Russians were waiting to see how well the Poles handled the problem.
Desperately eager to check the disturbances with no further loss of life, the Polish government at week's end took a more conciliatory stance—even though the curfews remained in effect and tanks stood guard. "We do not want people to be injured," said Radio Warsaw. "We do not want people to die." In a rare admission of party failure, Trybuna conceded that the sharp and sudden price increases had been responsible for starting the trouble. (The newspaper also insisted, of course, that the rioters had been misled by rumors and misinformation.) Temporarily, at least, the presence of guns had quelled the demand for butter. But there was good reason for the party chieftains to fear that similar demonstrations might flare up again, particularly if nothing is done about the causes that sparked them. As a final irony, it may be that the atheist leaders of Poland have been given a respite by the mere fact that the riots broke out just before the most joyous of Christian feasts. By heritage, Poland as a nation would be more inclined to spend the season—even a season of discontent—merrymaking at home rather than troublemaking in the streets.