Seth Mydans, Surabaya – At precisely 3 p.m. on Thursday, the heavy blue gate of the Gunawan steel plant slid open and hundreds of young men poured through to hear an announcement they dreaded. Would their factory reopen in the morning, and would all of them still have jobs if it did?

As they parked their motorbikes, they faced an intimidating sight: dozens of police officers, soldiers and plainclothes security men, watching them carefully along with the local army commander and the city's police chief.

The announcement in the factory's courtyard on Thursday, in the words of another worker, was: "Good but also bad."

Gunawan steel will reopen for now, reversing a plan to close its gates permanently. But when they arrive for work on Friday morning, 90 of the plant's 650 workers will be told they have no jobs.

The men in the courtyard, squatting on the ground and hugging one another as they listened, received the announcement in silence. When it was over, they boarded their motorbikes and quickly disappeared.

It was a moment of truth for both the workers and the security forces, who have geared up around the country for a violent reaction as millions of Indonesians lose their jobs in Indonesia's deepening recession.

And it was a moment that is due to be repeated hundreds of times in the days ahead as workers return from an extended Muslim holiday to factories whose business is contracting sharply as their costs and their debts expand to crippling levels.

In the capital city of Jakarta on Thursday, 400 miles to the west, government officials raised their estimate of the country's unemployed by one-third, to 8.5 million. This fast-rising number, together with steep rises in prices for many basic commodities, have fueled concern that widespread unrest could threaten the stability of the world's fourth-largest nation.

As Indonesia prepares for the confirmation of President Suharto next month to a seventh five-year term, economic pressures have mingled with political tensions to produce the country's severest crisis in decades.

The crucial question, as one long-time foreign resident here put it, is: "Can you translate 'I don't have any bread' into 'Damn the Government'? If a factory closes, who does the worker get mad at? Does he curse the government or does he curse his employer?"

The answer among the workers at the Gunawan steel plant suggested that Suharto's longtime policy of depoliticizing Indonesia has been bearing fruit. During his 32 years in power, the president has co-opted opposition parties, banned grass roots political activity and persuaded most of the country's 200 million people to leave the governing to him.

The grumbling of the men who waited by their motorbikes on Thursday were aimed not at the government but at their employer, whom they accused of using the economic crisis as a cover for squeezing their pay and benefits.

When asked whether the government was to blame for their hardships, one angry worker grew suddenly quiet. "I don't want to talk about that," he said, and he insisted that his name not be printed. "I don't dare talk about the government."

The man, who wore a dirty red Ralph Lauren sweatshirt, said social unrest was a real possibility as unemployment rises. More certainly, he said, jobless workers were likely to turn to crime to feed their families.

"It's a matter of the stomach," he said. "Stomachs are very sensitive."

The announcement itself was a powerful performance by the factory owners and local security forces. Five men took their turns at a microphone: a company representative, a pro-government union leader, an official of the government's Ministry of Manpower and the army and police commanders.

Bambang, a member of the company's board of directors – who like many Indonesians uses only one name – took the occasion to blame some of the company's troubles on agitators who had led a recent slowdown to demand bigger annual bonuses.

"The management tried to keep our ship from sinking," he said, "but unfortunately the efforts of the company did not get the support of all of you."

The army commander, Lt. Col. Kadri Kusuman, put it another way. "Those of you who lose your jobs, don't ask the ones who still have work to join a boycott," he said. "I warn you: If you do not do your jobs properly, the company will suffer."

And in case any of the workers had missed the message, the police chief, Lt. Col. Sumaryono, repeated it. "We from the police will take firm measures against all people who take such actions," he said. "We call on you to stop provocations, stop preventing others from working. After the company reopens tomorrow, we will continue monitoring you."

Then he added the fervent hope of authorities in factory towns around the country: "Those of you who lose your jobs, please go home to your villages."

Only one statement Thursday drew applause – the only statement to offer a bleak suggestion of hope. "From the seeds of suffering," the union representative said, "we can grow a better future."