Russia & The Struggle for Peace

Front matter

Fac-simile of the "Izvestia" of the 15th of March, with the Manifesto "To the Peoples of the World."

& THE STRUGGLE FOR PEACE

BY

Chapter 1: The Revolution and the Allies

Part I: Introductory

CHAPTER ONE

THE REVOLUTION AND THE ALLIES

NEVER perhaps in history has a great Revolution been less foreseen abroad; probably nothing in history has perplexed people more.

At first sight this is strange, because the Revolution was developing in Russia for more than two years, and no honest observer ought to have failed to see its approach. And yet people here had not the slightest idea that revolution was imminent, and when it actually occurred they were taken by surprise. And then the British public was absolutely unprepared to understand either the causes of the Revolution or its meaning.

But after all it is not unnatural that the Revolution was so great a surprise. Probably no country in the world was less known than Russia. Ideas even of Russian geography were most hazy. The ethnography of Russia was virtually a Chinese puzzle to the majority; and a good many Englishmen are now probably for the first time making themselves acquainted with Ukrainians, Lithuanians and other races and nationalities of Russia. Russian economics have seldom been touched upon, and Russian social life was less understood than that of Mexico or Japan. There were available one or two good books on Russia, but those (notably the famous Klutchevsky's "History of Russia") are little known and little read. Unfortunately other books, of a biassed character, written either by illiterate compilers or clever charlatans, have lately acquired a rather considerable influence in this country.

It sounds paradoxical, but it is nevertheless a grim reality, that the political rapprochement between Eng- land and Russia, which might have been expected to contribute to a better understanding of Russia and of the Russian people, had, on the contrary, an exactly opposite effect. From the very beginning of the rapprochement in 1907 it became the fashion to depict Russia and the Russian people with sentimental flattery. The previous conception of Russia as a backward country, with rotten political institutions and a monstrous despotism, was said to be biassed and false. Russia had to be "discovered" again. And since then Russia and the soul of Russia have been successfully "discovered" many a time. The real aim of these discoveries was not so much to give a full and veracious account of real Russia, as to blind the British people to Russian realities. So long as the political interests of the two countries were regarded as opposed, the sharpest and most implacable critic of Russian political institutions and public life used to be considered rather useful and therefore welcome. But when the Governments of Britain and Russia decided upon a common policy and a political rapprochement, a change of public opinion about Russia was deemed necessary. And that is precisely why the greater part of these "discoveries" of Russia and of that mysterious "Russian Soul" differ very little from the old-fashioned political art of applying "whitewash."

To reconcile the free British people with the Russian autocracy was, of course, no easy undertaking. Dislike of Russian political institutions was deep-rooted. A free and proud people like the British not only had a deep repugnance to the Tsardom, but could scarcely admire or like a people which was content to live and suffer under a rotten autocracy. But the political aims of the State demanded a reconciliation; and there is never any lack of imaginative genius when the "highest interests of the State" demand it. Thus it was that the very difficult problem of reconciling British public opinion with reactionary Russia was quickly solved, and with ingenious simplicity. The solution was the discovery of "Holy Russia." It was declared that Russia was unlike other countries which are "hopelessly plunged in commercialism and materialism." It was declared that her mystical, religious and unpractical inhabitants, and her institutions, must not be judged from the materialistic Western point of view. Autocracy would certainly be abominable for the Western peoples, and for Western culture. In Russia it was quite different. Russia suffered under the autocracy in a material sense, but that was the mystical way of her spiritual perfection. And so on. Thus the "Holy Russia" school not only justified the autocracy but even glorified it. The legend about the Tsar as the "Little Father" of the millions of Russian peasants was cleverly disseminated. The Tsardom was no longer a nightmare and a curse. It became the mystical focus of Russia's spiritual life.

The theory of Holy Russia and the discovery of the mystical Russian soul, with its semi-religious relations to the Tsardom, were at first received in England rather sceptically. But politically it was too convenient a conception to give way before scepticism. It fulfilled its function of relieving the conscience of the people and making the rapprochement with the Tsardom plausible. As always happens with convenient theories of this sort, the legend of a Holy Russia and its Little Father was easily swallowed by an undiscriminating public opinion.

At the time of the outbreak of war there was hardly a single spiritual barrier left to an alliance with Russia. Ten years ago, before the discovery of "Holy Russia," it would not have been so easy to fight in comradeship of arms with Tsarist Russia. The United States, which had remained somewhat sceptical of this theory that Russia for the sake of her spiritual perfection needed the blessing of Tsardom, waited until the Revolution made it possible for her to join Russia and Russia's Allies.

In the course of the war the real Russia emerged. It became better known in Western Europe thanks to Russian literature, which was then widely translated and read. Russian literature helped to show many people that the real soul of Russia had nothing in common with this fallacious, essentially contemptuous and "sugary" legend of "Holy Russia." It exposed the lie that the Russian people were content with the abject conditions of their life; that in curious contradiction with the rest of mankind they enjoyed, as it were, inwardly with a sweet suffering, oppression and misery, the squalor and poverty of their existence.

But in spite of the positive influence of Russian literature the justification of Tsardom made ever greater progress during the war. It is true that in the Grand Alliance of Western Democracies Russia was given the rather modest function of a "Steam Roller," but all that was spoken, and all that was written in newspapers and books, about Russia during the war was intended to convey the idea that we had always made a big mistake about her and that there was nothing objectionable in Russia's political institutions. With the exception of a small remnant of the Liberal and Labour Press the whole British Press exalted Russia's Government, her political institutions, and her public life. The Alliance added to the justification of Tsardom a certain amount of official politeness and indeed of flattery.

It is, therefore, not astonishing that people in this country were perplexed when the Revolution came about.

When the Russian Workers and Soldiers tore down the crumbling pillars and rotten institutions of what was being glorified in this country as Holy Russia; when the Autocracy became in a few hours a sad memory, and the "Little Father" was reduced to the proportions of a mean-spirited nonentity, the people of England, who had been taught to believe that this dark corner of Russia was the real and "Holy" Russia, were greatly bewildered. The speedy and complete liquidation of the Tsardom was astounding and painful to the followers of the Holy Russia school. They asked them- selves anxiously: "Where is the army of the Tsar? Why do the Soldiers not rush to rescue their beloved Chief? Why are the peasants so indifferent? Why do they suffer this humiliation? Why do they allow themselves to be robbed of the Tsardom which is the means and end of their perfection?" The Revolution was in fact a day of great anxiety and bitter disappointment to the whitewashers. Their ten years' labour of justification and glorification of Tsardom was torn to pieces. But they were not willing to give up their theory. When they had satisfied themselves that the Tsar's abdication was definite, they made a desperate attempt to save the glory at least of the Tsardom. They hastened therefore to assert, first, that the Revolution was a mere reaction against the treacherous Government which, under the influence of an immoral Empress, a German Princess, had contemplated a separate peace with the Enemy; and, secondly, that the Tsar's abdication was a "noble act" of his own will," dictated by his devotion to his people and the "great European cause which he served so well."

To-day we know too much about the causes and the meaning of the Revolution to need seriously to consider the attempts to save the theory of Holy Russia and to represent the Tsar as a martyr to his love for "his" people and for the Allied cause. I mention it only because it was the unfortunate origin of all the discrepancies of the Allied diplomacy towards Russia after the Revolution. Only thus can the confusion and wavering of the Allies be explained. Their badly-informed spokesmen believed in the tales about the Little Father. They had been told that a rising of the peasants in the "million of Russian villages" to restore the sanctuary of Tsardom was possible, even probable; and they therefore could not bring themselves to think that the Revolution was final. As statesmen, of course, they considered that they had to be very cautious in their attitude towards a revolution. They sent greetings to the Russian people, expressed their joy over the estab- lishment of a democratic Government, but all that in an astonishingly cool spirit, with many reservations, and (monstrously enough) coupled with compliments to the Tsar. This type of greetings to the Revolution, coupled with the strange compliments to the overthrown tyrant, produced the most painful impression in Russia. There the disappointment was as bitter as it was unexpected. For instance, the "Rabotchaia Gazetta" (the organ of the Minimalists, the leading group at that time) published very bitter comments on Mr. Bonar Law's official speech of congratulation to Russia, with its tribute to the ex-Tsar, under the title, "Greetings to Nicholas!"

This initial and fundamental blunder of the Allies towards the Russian Revolution was almost entirely due to the work of those traducers who had substituted for the true, authentic, creative genius of Russia the despised offal of Russian culture, of those who had pronounced as "Holy" the bigoted and unholy corner of darkest Russia.

There was, however, another reason which made the relations between the Allies and revolutionary Russia even more difficult. I refer to the unfortunate idea of appraising the Revolution not for its own sake or its worth to the Russian people but solely from the "military point of view." Here in England that seemed the most natural way of thinking; but in Russia it was felt to be a monstrous lapse. To look at the overthrow of the Autocracy and the liberation of the Russian people as no more than a means for the better prosecution of the war, was indeed cruel and stupid to the point of disaster. It was bound to frighten away Russia.

The Revolution was for the Russian people the greatest blessing that could ever happen. For them the war was but a means of liberation, and, whether all Russians were conscious of it or not, the great enthusiasm shown at the beginning for the war was only to be explained by the belief, hope or foreboding that the war would somehow or other lead to a new and better world. Without the hope that it would make Russia free the war had no meaning in Russia at all. English people will never understand the spirit of the Revolution and the extent of the disappointment felt in Russia when this "utilitarian" (as it was called there) point of view became known, so long as they decline to see that the Russian people were justified in looking upon the Revolution as the highest blessing in the world and in estimating all other things—the war included—by this new criterion: whether it helped or hindered the consolidation of the gains of the Revolution.

The Revolution had been the holiest and the highest hope of several generations of Russians. The best men and women had joyfully given their lives for its accomplishment. Russia at length became free; and Russia's Allies could think of nothing but of the effect that it might have upon their own military fortunes.

There was never a more bitter and unexpected disappointment than when Russia became conscious of this Allied "selfishness." It was a blunder; a heavy and bitter blunder on the part of the Allies. But what came later was a crime.

I refer to the sympathy, encouragement, and help given to every counter-revolutionist and adventurer who tried to overthrow the Revolution and promised to induce or to compel Russia to fight again. Only think of the British public and Press exalting and acclaiming Counter-Revolution in Russia! Anything more monstrous it was difficult to imagine.

And after all that has happened there are still people in this country who are sincerely astonished, and ask how it has come about that Russia's great affection towards this country has after the Revolution so suddenly been replaced by suspicion and mistrust? And the very newspapers which are chiefly responsible for the deplorable change rush in with an easy explanation of "German intrigue."

Not for the first or last time in the course of the war they have used "German intrigue" as a cover for their own ignorance or blunders. But in this instance the interdependence between the vilification of the Revolution in British and French newspapers and on the platform and the change in Russia's attitude towards the Allies is too clear. The part of "German intrigue" in destroying Anglo-Russian friendship we do not know. It may be great or small. But with the sinister rôle of a section of the British Press and politicians we are unfortunately only too well acquainted.

But whatever was the origin of the "intrigue" which led to the attempt to pervert the causes and the meaning of the Revolution, to-day there can be not the least doubt that:

(1) The Revolution was not caused by the treachery of the Court, the immorality of the Empress or the foul influence of Rasputin. On the contrary, the treachery of the Court was a desperate attempt to save the Tsardom from the coming Revolution.

(2) The Revolution was neither bellicose nor pacifist. It came not for the sake of a better prosecution of the war nor to end the war. The only aim of the Revolution was to save Russia from ruin and destruction. But, in view of Russia's exhaustion and the process of disintegration, the Revolution had only one way out—i.e., a speedy conclusion of the war. And the revolutionary democracy was able in about a fortnight's time after the Revolution to formulate the purpose of the Revolution with a clearness and prophetic foresight such as is only possible in moments of spiritual exaltation.

The Revolution was pacifist, not in principle, but as a matter of necessity. If the Revolution had taken place a year or two before, the same revolutionary democracy of Russia would certainly have conducted a revolutionary war.

As matters stood, the Counter-Revolution dressed itself in a bellicose cloak, not because it was devoted to the Allied cause, or disliked Germany, or was patriotic; but simply because the hated revolutionary democracy was pacifist. If the Revolution had insisted on continuing the war the Counter-Revolution would for the same reason have assumed a pacifist mask.

If the Revolution does not succeed in killing the war, the war will destroy the Revolution—that was felt and believed by everyone in Russia. It was the universal creed. The counter-revolutionists knew and believed this quite as well as the revolutionists. And there is not the slightest doubt that they shouted so loudly for the war and "our noble Allied cause, which Russia must not desert," simply and solely because they knew that the longer the war dragged on and the longer the process of Russia's economic disintegration continued the easier it would be for them to destroy the Revolution.

The struggle for peace, in short, was the struggle for the consolidation of the Revolution, and the shouts that were raised for going on with the war were but a means for undermining and destroying the Revolution.

No doubt the many sins of the dastardly Government and of the putrescent Court stimulated the Revolution. But even if Rasputin had never existed and the Empress had been as virtuous as, say, the wife of the Procurator of the Holy Synod; if the Tsar had been more patriotic than the Editor of the Novoie Vremia, or Protopopov, his crazy Minister, had been quite sound and a supporter of the "knock-out-blow" policy—nevertheless the Revolution would have been inevitable. It might have come under less startling circumstances and probably a little later, but it would have come all the same.

The more we know about the Revolution and the forces that brought it about, the more we become convinced that the Revolution was not a dramatic and sudden act. The Revolution was not the beginning of a new development, but rather the end of a process begun long ago.

If by revolution we conceive a sudden and a dramatic cataclysm, then I am sure there was in Russia no revolution at all. Revolution, as I conceive it, is the long process of dying away and decomposition of an old social and political order and the upgrowing of a new social structure. The moment the new order presents its claims and takes possession of the political institutions of the State—that is the Revolution. Certainly the earlier the new order asserts itself and the more vitality the old order still retains, the more violent and the more dramatic is the revolution.

The Russian Revolution was bloodless and not at all violent, because the new order had put in its claims at a very late stage in the development of its own strength and in the corresponding decomposition of the old. At the moment of the Revolution the Russian Monarchy was virtually a corpse, without a trace of vigour or vitality. Its mortal sickness was upon it before the war. The war enormously hastened the end.

The tragedy of Russia is that the war not only definitely destroyed the Monarchy, but undermined the economic foundations of the State. The new order was crippled by the war even before it was enthroned.

Chapter 2: Shirking the Truth

LOOKED at after the event and in retrospect, many things are seen more clearly and distinctly than at the time. To-day it is puzzling to understand how the Allies could have made such a fatal miscalculation of Russia's strength.

All that Russia really possessed was practically unlimited man-power; on that account she might hope to play an enormous and perhaps a decisive part in a short war of manœuvres, but in this war of trenches and siege operations Russia was in fact the weakest partner and was bound to be the first to collapse.

This is a war of attrition, and it should have needed little special foresight to perceive that poor and uneducated Russia, financially unstable and economically dependent upon the enemy, was doomed. Russia was bound to fall exhausted long before other belligerents had begun to feel the pinch.

This is a contest of engineers. Was it not foolish, absurd, and even criminal, to expect that Russia, with her mere rudiments of industry, and dependent, as she was, with her weak and undeveloped technical equipment, upon the enemy, would be able to go on for years in this gigantic struggle on such unequal terms?

Finally, this is a war of endurance, a trial of strong and healthy nerves; a contest of character and of national tenacity; therefore it should have been manifest beforehand that Russia, possessing no strong national traditions, permeated with mutual distrust, with class and national hatred, would be the first to go under.

At the beginning of the war, however, this miscalculation on the part of the Allies was not at all so astonishing. They, in fact, did not know either the real strength of Russia or the specific character of the war. But why did not the Allies revise their views after both the weakness of Russia and the character of the war had revealed themselves with more than sufficient clearness? This question is an imperative one. It must be answered. But there is only one answer: The Allies were blind because they would not see; they were afraid to face the truth.

The more I go over, in my mind, the history of the fateful last three years, the more convinced I am that the bitterest enemy of the Entente during this time was this peculiar fear of the truth. "Secret diplomacy" is the popular name of the malady which led to this terrible war and dominates its issues. But secret diplomacy is after all only a mean manifestation of a more general shrinking from light and truth. I do not mean deliberate untruths, falsehoods, fictions which, time and again, have beclouded the issues of the war. I do not even mean the all-too-familiar game of hiding the truth. I refer simply and solely to a peculiar instinct for shirking the truth one's self—an instinct which has developed to a very high degree since the outbreak of war.

The reasons why this remarkable dislike of truth has developed to such an extent are pretty obvious, and, I readily admit, to a certain extent are comprehensible. So deeply rooted has the belief in the strength and superiority of the Entente been, that even the most severe checks were taken lightly as not being able seriously to affect the prospects of final and complete victory. Why, then, disturb the confidence of the people a very great and positive asset in war—by directing attention to the many and natural little defects, mistakes, or even misfortunes?

And so the Entente politicians and Press acquired the habit of ignoring all that was unfavourable or likely to slacken their Olympian tranquillity. On occasion a strong and unexpected blow surprised and shocked the unprepared public mind, but the Press easily explained away any unpleasant truth and restored confidence; and soon mental equilibrium reigned again. But the most remarkable thing was that the people themselves became so accustomed to living in an atmosphere of over-confidence that even the rare warnings from the Press that any particular situation was difficult, or even grave, were generally received with cool scepticism by the public. Over-confidence became the second nature of the Entente peoples. To be confident was the highest degree of patriotism. Any criticism of Allied politics, strategy or diplomacy, was declared unpatriotic. To describe the position of the Allies as splendid and the situation of the enemy as desperate was the only business left to patriotic people. The most striking example of this was the attitude of the Allies towards Russia prior to the Revolution.

The situation of Russia was as bad as it could be, but not a word of criticism or warning was uttered in the Entente Press. In fact the organs of the Allied Press, great and small, the big voices of the leading newspapers and the squeaking accompaniment of the lesser chorus, created together an unbroken harmony of continuous praise and compliments to "our great Russian ally and its august Chief." Yet, at that time, the Russian situation was appalling. Russia was literally on the brink of an abyss. Rapid changes of Ministers, and even of Commanders-in-Chief, indicated to the whole world that the situation was exceedingly unstable. The economic situation of the country was critical and grew worse every month that the war went on. The Russian people were in open feud with the Government; and even a Secretary of State for War came down to the Duma, in open defiance of the Government, shook hands with the leader of the Opposition, and intimated that the army was sick of the incompetence of the Government, and was ready to support any popular change. The situation was indeed grave and menacing. But the Allies took no notice and preferred to live in a fool's paradise. Instead of trying to find out how matters stood and to act accordingly, the Allies had recourse to the method of ignoring trouble rather than removing it. They simply forbade the Press to discuss or criticise the Russian situation. The Press apparently accepted this course as being the wisest in the circumstances. At any rate it was by this time their habitual method. And the incessant chorus of the Allied Press could continue undisturbed to approve and raise all that was going on in Russia. The only concern of the Government and the Press was not to disturb the public or shake its confidence. And the people were misled and encouraged to believe that Russia was all right, and her spirit splendid. While Russia was being exhausted economically and disintegrating as a military power, the Allied peoples were awaiting with the utmost confidence great military successes in the East.

Then came rumours of separate peace negotiations between the Tsar's Government and the Germans; nay more, not rumours but grim and definite facts, which were openly spoken of in the Russian Parliament.

Again—the truth was avoided and perverted. Miliukov's speech in the Duma, accusing the Tsar's Government of treason—an historic event—was simply and ignobly concealed from the British public. There was but a slight confusion felt in the Allied Press for a day or two, and then the line was straightened once more and the harmonious chorus of newspaper praise broke out again, inspiring confidence by its pleasant music.

But at this time even the long-suffering and confiding British public became somehow affected and plainly uneasy. Very likely the British Government itself was somewhat disquieted. At any rate a great Commission, headed by Lord Milner, was sent to Petrograd to investigate the situation on the spot. And then a most remarkable thing happened. Lord Milner's Commission, well able to understand and judge such a situation at any other time, proved utterly incompetent to discover anything abnormal or anxious in the situation of Russia.

When Lord Milner was in Russia the situation was, briefly, this: The army was rapidly disintegrating, and there were many obvious indications of it. Discipline and obedience had in many instances to be upheld by sheer force, and two million deserters from the army were roaming about Russia. It is impossible to believe that the Allied Military Missions in Petrograd and at the Russian front were ignorant of these facts. Yet Lord Milner's Commission was obviously ignorant of them, for the deplorable situation of the Russian army and the mass desertions of Russian soldiers did not shake its confidence in the might of the Tsardom.

But not alone the army—the whole of Russia was in a terrible state. Petrograd was actually starving, but Lord Milner's Commission was unable to perceive even that patent fact. Let it be supposed that the Russian Government tried its very best to mislead the British Commission and to conceal the real situation. Even then it could only be put down to some miracle of blindness that the Commission was unaware of starvation in Petrograd. The Commissioners could not fail to observe the endless queues all day long before the bread shops all over the capital. Queues must then have been a new and disquieting thing to the British Commissioners, and yet even the sight of women standing for hours in the snow and bitter frost before bread shops had practically no effect upon the Commission's report about Russia's situation. But perhaps the food question was no concern of the British Government Commission. How, then, was it possible that Lord Milner paid so little attention to the grave political situation of Russia? We must assume that the British Ambassador at Petrograd informed Lord Milner about the seriousness of the political situation.

At present, of course, the former British Ambassador sees the situation of Russia before the Revolution in a very different light. But at that time he considered the situation grave enough.

And yet Lord Milner brought back to England the most satisfactory and reassuring report. And that was less than a fortnight before the Revolution broke out.

I do not accuse Lord Milner either of incompetence or of any deliberate attempt to conceal the truth. Lord Milner's case is only one of an endless number of instances of this dangerous habit of lulling the people into pleasant illusions rather than letting them know anything disagreeable.

Now this policy of shirking the truth was bound to lead to disaster, and all of us, Russians and Allies alike, have paid a terrible price for it. The Allies let Russia fall to pieces rather than accept the plain truth that she was exhausted. And, having let Russia down, the Allies are now paying the terrible price themselves.

But, even to-day, the Allies are blaming, not their Press for perverting the truth about Russia ever since the war broke out; not their Governments and Lord Milner for ignoring the truth; not their Ambassadors and Military and Civil Missions for hiding the truth; not their Parliaments, which evidently preferred to live in a world of pleasant illusions and never insisted on being told the plain truth. No! All the more violently do they blame the Russian revolutionary democracy, which continually insisted on the truth that Russia was on the verge of ruin, and implored the Allies to take urgent measures to save Russia and themselves before it was too late.

Even when all was lost—when Russia as a State was destroyed; when all the economic, national and social foundations of Russia were undermined and the dissolution of the army was an accomplished fact; when at that time Kerensky, in an attack of utter despondency, did at last exclaim, "Russia is worn out!"—the Allied Press and public would not accept it. Instead of coming to reason even at that eleventh hour, the Allies preferred to continue in their world of illusions. Russia was again proclaimed "a mystery" which "always fights best when you least expect that she will fight at all." Allied Ministers assured the public that Russia would fight again, and those who said that Russia was worn out and could not fight any longer were denounced as "traitors."