The Workshop Of The Revolution. I. N. Steinberg 1953
But all the tribulations of their prison existence were but extraneous to the innermost anxiety and grief of the many Left Social-Revolutionaries still languishing in prison. Their main problem was indeed their imprisonment-not the blow of their personal deprivation-but its political and moral implications. For they all considered themselves organic parts of the liberating Russian Revolution. Could they bear to be banished from it and be held behind stone walls like idlers and outcasts? If they were rejected by the revolution and sentenced to the hardest punishment in fateful times-passivity-was it because they had neglected something truly important? Were they, as individuals and as members of a revolutionary movement, mistaken in then- stand, or was the regime wrong which had forcibly removed them from the lifestream of the people? Regime or revolution, Bolshevik Party or the Russian working class-which was right, and which was responsible for their predicament? The prisoners, however, were utterly convinced that they had not taken the wrong road; and this conviction led them naturally to a constant and detailed analysis of developments in Russia, and of ideological conflicts that had arisen between them, the Left Social-Revolutionaries and the ruling party.
The first problem of the moment was, of course, their attitude toward the Bolshevik dictatorship. Should it be accepted as the regime that in fact ruled the country, and should an attempt be made to fit the program of their own movement to it? Or should they challenge it and seek to undermine its power? In other words: should they act as “His Majesty’s Opposition” or think in terms of revolutionary change? Rebellious personalities, fortified by deep-rooted convictions, should have been inclined to radical conclusions, but . . .
The plight of the revolution as a whole intervened at this point. The year was 1919-1920; over large parts of Russia civil war was raging (with Kolchak and Denikin heading the White forces), and invasion threatened from abroad (when General Pilsudsky began his march on Moscow in the “Polish War” of 1920). There was no question as to what side the imprisoned socialists were on, and how passionately they desired to take part in the defense of their revolution. But, many of them asked themselves, would they not also he defending and bolstering the Bolshevik regime? Was not the Red Army being changed from an instrument of revolutionary defense into a brutal weapon to maintain the dictatorial party? How could they accomplish both tasks: defeat the social adversary in the civil war and prevent the consolidation of the internal foe?
Almost unwittingly, a policy of “war on two fronts” evolved -both against the direct danger of the White generals and against the indirect danger of the Red dictators. They might have said: We shall fight the bourgeois counter-revolution as if the Bolshevik state did not exist, and we shall fight bolshevism as if social reaction did not stand poised to stab us in the back.
But could such a two-front war be victorious? Might it not thwart both-the counter-revolutionary ambitions and the revolution itself? And the logical conclusion seemed to be: Forget temporarily the humiliating and malicious policy of bolshevism for the sake of preserving the whole structure for a brighter future. Should the Left Social-Revolutionaries then inform the regime of their decision, so that they might be released and take part in the battle? The conclusion seemed logical, but . . .
It did not satisfy the moral conscience of the prisoners. Go free and join the ranks of the Red Army while the territory of the revolution itself was systematically ravaged by the party in power? While the peasantry, the backbone of the people, was persecuted and socially abused in the name of Marxist-proletarian dogma? While the Soviets, which were to have created a new democracy, had become servile party agencies? While the proletariat was being incited against the working peasants and coached as a new caste of proletarian praetorians? What use was the struggle against the White Guardists Kolchak and Denikin when in the rear the regime itself was sowing its own seeds of “Denikinism,” of popular disillusionment? Was there a solution to this satanic dilemma? Should they not ignore the civil war and remain in prison with a “calm conscience” to guard the purity of that conscience? Should not such passivity become the revolutionary virtue of this period? But . . .
On the other hand was it right that they, by remaining in prison, should prove incapable of helping the peasant and the worker in the most important period of their history? Should they leave all the initiative and activity to the Marxist-materialistic Bolsheviks, to the stubborn proletarian ideologists? Would not that too mean betrayal of the spiritual pioneers and leaders of Populist thought, generations of whom had worked for this “time of fulfillment?”
Such doubts tormented hundreds and thousands of honest revolutionists and men of the people. In the Butyrki this inner ideological struggle took on organized form. It was debated in the prison itself between various factions and individuals, and it was constantly formulated and argued in the secret correspondence with the illegal Central Committee of the Left Social- Revolutionary Party outside. On September 5, 1919, for instance, V. Karelin, one of the leading Left Social-Revolutionaries wrote this in the name of six comrades:
“There are principles that are binding for us, irrespective of whether we shall ever reach any agreement with the Bolsheviks. The fight against Denikin, Kolchak and the others is a categorical duty. They represent not just a temporary stage of the revolution; they are the counter-revolution consolidated and reinforced by the imperialist world forces. Fight against them is a fight for the basic achievements of the revolution, even though power be still in the hands of the Bolsheviks. To ignore this battle, whose very process contains elements of a new revolutionary rebirth-would mean to reject the support of the working masses.”
Another short, but clear, document in the same spirit was smuggled out to the illegal Central Committee. It was signed by 148 Left Social-Revolutionary men and women, prisoners in the Butyrki. I still have these documents of the year 1919 and, despite the years that have passed, every time I look at them I can feel the quickened pulse of that period in every phrase and every signature.
“We, prisoners in the Butyrki, wish to declare our views. We have considered the internal and external position of the Soviet republic in the light of the danger of social restoration, and the battle against the attacking counter-revolution. We realize that this danger is heightened by the policy of the government. We have reached the following conclusions:
1. The main task of the revolution at this moment is intensified struggle against all counter-revolutionary forces on the innumerable fronts of the republic.
2. We therefore consider it necessary to transfer the center of our political activities to those provinces of Russia that are occupied by the counter-revolution, and where the working people are fighting for their future.
3. We therefore reject for the time being any armed struggle against the Bolshevik government because it might play into the hands of forces hostile to the revolution. Remaining faithful to our ideals, we shall support the struggle against the Right, insofar as the future of the revolution and the working masses depends on it.”
But almost at the same time, on August 4, 1919, another letter proclaiming a different attitude reached the Central Committee of the Social Revolutionary Party from other comrades in the Butyrki.
“It is our conviction,” they wrote, “that the counter-revolution of Kolchak and Denikin is a child of Bolshevism; you cannot destroy one without the other. To call on peasants and workers to fight against the Denikins under Bolshevik leadership is both useless and perilous. At the same time we want you to know that our imprisonment should not restrict the freedom of action of our Party. Let the central committee not hesitate for a moment between us and the demands of the revolution! Let it always remember that it bears responsibility for millions of working people.”
This, too, was the voice of determined fighters. And here is yet another secret message, written again in microscopic script to be read only with a magnifying glass.
“If the Bolsheviks are sincere in wanting to work with us let them make peace not with our moderate party lenders, lull within accordance with the mood and viewpoint of their imprisoned comrades. Party decisions would then be arrived at not in free debate, but under pressure of the prison and the regime that stood behind it. That is why the “extremists” had written: “Let the Central Committee not hesitate for a moment between us and the demands of the revolution.”
Yet the extremists knew in their hearts that not, the paltry motives of personal safety, but the interests of people and revolution guided every Party member in his ideological conflict. All of them with equal passion pursued the common dual goal: the negative-to make a stand against the counter-revolution; and the positive-to throw themselves into the creative work of reconstruction. If party morality forced them to step cautiously wherever their views might coincide with the desires of a hostile regime, the highest morality of mankind’s liberation urged them on to exchange prison for the twin fronts of work and battle. These honest, courageous and inflexible men were not to be envied in those days.
In August, 1919, the small number of Left Social-Revolutionary leaders who were free decided on a risky attempt to alter the situation. To meet the urgent desires of most of the prisoners it was necessary not only to effect their release but to create opportunities for their legal activities in the country, that is, to re-establish the legal existence of the party. The only way to achieve this was to negotiate with the Bolshevik Party, with which there had been no direct contact since the events of July, 1918. Therefore the Central Committee of the Left Social- Revolutionaries decided to try and discover if there were any chances for their party to return to legality. All party circles agreed to make the attempt, and in August of 1919 the first conference of representatives of the Left Social-Revolutionaries and those of the Bolshevik Central Committee took place in Moscow. The Bolsheviks, hard pressed as they were, were anxious to gain every bit of support. They delegated Kamenev, Beloborodoff and Helena Stassova to negotiate with the Left Social-Revolutionaries. The latter were represented by Ilya Bakal, Alexander Schreidcr and myself.
It is fortunate that reports of these conferences have been preserved. These documents are interesting not only because they convey the tension among the participants but also because they mirror the complexity of the state of affairs at that time. These reports follow. The first conference took place August 12, 1919. Beloborodoff was chairman.
Steinberg: “At a meeting of our Central Committee some time ago, we reached a number of decisions which are of concern to you. We believe that the international and domestic state of the country is such that the first task today is the defeat of the counter-revolution of the White generals. We believe that the revolution would gain by our party’s efforts in that struggle as well as in its active participation in the socialist rebuilding of the country. But in the present circumstances, and as long as you continue your political program which we continue to condemn, there can be no thought of our participation in constructive work. We therefore propose to transfer the center of our political operations to the provinces occupied by the Whites, for instance, the Ukraine. To make our activities possible on a large scale, however, we must have certain guarantees.
“First, as soon as those provinces are liberated from the Whites, our party will be given the opportunity for legal existence and free Soviets will be elected in those provinces. Second, we must be able to staff our party apparatus, that is, we ask for the release of all our comrades who are now imprisoned both in Moscow and throughout the country.'’
Kamenev: “For our discussion to have any positive results, it must be put on a realistic basis. Your plan is artificial because our policy cannot depend on the military line Denikin might establish. If we are to discuss your activities on, a national scale, then we must equally be concerned with your attitude here, in the center. Will you give up your tactics of armed struggle against us? If your work in the Ukraine, for instance, is to be successful, it is essential that production of armaments and transport should function normally on this side of the battle line too. Can we be sure that you will not obstruct the economic functioning of the country? We are just a small group of comrades here and we can therefore be frank with each other: Can we ever come to an agreement with you, as clear and decisive as our split had been? Back in October [1917] we had differences of opinion too, yet we were able to work together Alexander Schreider: “The accusations in your press against our party concerning plots, armed struggle and such belong, of course, to the humorous aspects of the situation. You have no proofs whatsoever of our participation in any plots. The recent revolt in Krassnaya Gorka (near Kronstadt) is a good example: the participants held Bolshevik party cards.”
Steinberg: “You want an immediate agreement as clear as our split has been. It would be dishonest, and of no use whatever to you, if we were to tell you today that such agreement is possible. We are here to discuss tactical and technical matters only. There is always the possibility, of course, that future events will force you to change your policies and that in turn would bring us to different conclusions. Of course it would be desirable that your changes occur without pressure of such terrible factors as Denikin, but it is apparent that without such pressure this will not happen.
“We see nothing artificial in devising different policies for the two sides of the battle line. You already permit variations of policy from one area to the next. That is why we demand that- along with the general political changes in the liberated areas -you guarantee legality for our party, so that it might continue its constructive work. But none of this applies here, as long ai you keep to your present course.”
Kamenev: “We cannot pursue different policies in Great Russia and in the liberated provinces. From our viewpoint it is impossible for you to publish a newspaper in Kharkov but not in Moscow. You cannot even determine the borders. That why we need a clear picture of your program generally, including Great Russia.”
Ilya Bakal: “Your remarks about a unified political line are incorrect. Battle lines are established not artificially but by the march of events. Take your policy in the Ukraine, before Denikin’s occupation. I have just returned from there and I know that in many ways your policy there differs considerably from that of Great Russia. In the Crimea and Kherson Province too, our organizations functioned legally.
In the Kherson Provincial Executive Committee of the Soviet, for instance, nineteen of twenty members were our people. Large Left Social-Revolutionary factions existed in Sebastopol and other cities. But here, in Great Russia, our comrades are held behind bars. If we decide now to transfer our major activities behind the enemy lines, we must know what to expect after the liberation of these areas And anyway, we have been refraining from armed action an you for some time.”
Kamenev: “Surely you understand that oral assurances on armed action are not enough. They must be confirmed in a document and made known in Western Europe. In addition we must have guarantees that these assurances will be honored. Can we be sure that individual Left Social-Revolutionaries or groups would not follow a separate line as happened with the Mensheviks and their representative in Siberia, Maisky?''[15]
Steinberg: “Kamenev’s question as to whether we can speak for the whole party is superfluous. We speak here in the name of our Central Committee. The whole issue really boils down to this: Will we be able to exist as an opposition party or will you continue to suppress all opposition?”
Kamenev: That is not correct. Why, of the one thousand deputies in the Petrograd Soviet, three hundred are non-party men. . . . But we obviously cannot decide this question here. We shall have to discuss it in our Central Committee. You will probably want to prepare your proposals in written form. We will consider them jointly and later submit them to public opinion.”
On September 15, 1919, the second, and last, conference between the two parties took place. This time the Bolshevik representatives included in addition to Kamenev, Nicolai Krestinsky (later Soviet Ambassador to Berlin) and Berzin. I read the theses on political tactics as formulated by the Central Committee of the Left Social-Revolutionaries. Kamenev spoke first.
Kamenev: “Your points are so constructed that they give your party every opportunity to continue its active policy of struggle against the government. In the very first point, for instance, you speak about the government’s “pernicious political program.” According to the second point your party’s goal is to reestablish the “true power of the Soviets” which implies that the present power is not a true Soviet power. But most important is point four, where you speak about your rejection of armed struggle. That can be understood in such a way that you do not reject it in principle; you simply state the fact that, at the present time, you do not have the means necessary for such a struggle. This means that, whenever you will assess your forces as strong enough-even if not the whole party but individual sections in the provinces-you will act as before. . . . We don’t like to hold 200 revolutionists in prison, but you must admit that it has some political advantage for us. If we release them, we would be liberating not 200 ordinary citizens, but 200 fighters. And we wonder if it would be advantageous to the Soviet regime to set them free on uncertain conditions?”
Krestinsky: “We notice particularly that your points are very vague on your tactical plans. You talk about desisting from armed struggle, but for how long? You indicate no political date line. Do you mean only until Denikin’s attacks have been repulsed? And furthermore: your proposals discuss only negative issues; that you would not interfere with the Red Army; that you would not engage in armed struggle. But what arc your positive goals, nationally?”
Steinberg: “To understand our proposals properly you must realize their purpose. The purpose is not to write a contract of agreement. That is not the issue. If we write about your pernicious policy, we do so because we are deeply convinced that it is pernicious. When we write about the true power of the Soviets, we certainly do mean that the Soviets do not exist any longer, that you have not only abolished them butt that you have no thought of re-establishing them even partially. We do not retreat from owr disagreements with you on matters of principle. These proposals are certainly no return to our relations in October, 1917, nor even in March, 1918, when we resigned because of the Brest peace. Our purpose today is only removal of the obstacles that stand in the way of renewing our activities as a party.
“Kamenev’s remark that our rejection of armed struggle is just a statement of fact shows that he is laboring under a misapprehension. Our party has not, so far, officially proclaimed any armed struggle against the Bolsheviks. You will not be able to find a single such decision in our party conferences. That is why we do not need a paragraph about it. And Krestinsky asks what are our positive goals? He does not recognize any in the proposals. That is not right. Our projected activities in the occupied areas are constructive; and our efforts here would be expended in two directions: practical work in those spheres of life where the government does not interfere and ideological political struggle against you. That is all we can say now. I believe that the interests of political advantage dictate that you accept our proposals.”
Krestinsky: “On the contrary. I believe that the publication of these points in the official organs of the government would be advantageous not for us, but for you. It would indicate to our organizations in the provinces that the government has confidence in you and that would give you an advantage both in the political, and in the police, sense.”
Kamenev: “We do not doubt your sincerity. But the proletariat battles against the bourgeoisie along a narrow path, and we must know exactly where everyone belongs. Perhaps you could clarify the meaning of your fourth point a little further?”
Steinberg: “We are concerned with the interests of the toiling peasantry. You, as a party, have no point of contact with the village. Even if some sections of the peasantry support you now they do so in fear of Denikin, in fear of losing the land, and not because they share your ideology. Your entire propaganda among them emphasizes this one point. But the peasantry is the only force that can stabilize the social revolution in Russia. And they listen to us. Let us therefore not try to guess for whom the publication of these proposals will prove more advantageous
Kamenev: “We shall report on today’s discussion to the political bureau in our Central Committee. Next week we shall give you a definite answer.”
These conferences came to nothing. Neither side had sufficient confidence in the other. A dictatorial Government, even in the grip of civil war, was not prepared to yield an inch. Thus the Left Social-Revolutionaries remained, as they had been, a divided party: a small legal group in Moscow and larger masses of workers and sympathizers in the underground. All attempts of the “legalists” to establish a basis for constructive, rather than rebellious, efforts on their part in the country proved futile. But the activities of the illegal groups, even though they did not plan any “armed revolts,” were equally futile. The regime was determined to prevent the people from hearing any revolutionary voice or idea beside its own. When, several years later, the civil war against the generals subsided, the Government began releasing the hundreds of imprisoned Left Social-Revolutionaries in Moscow and the provinces, one at a time. And in the interim, Cheka methods had seen to it that they went into freedom not as active, striving revolutionists, but as men broken in body and spirit.
The two conferences in Moscow, however, carry to this day an echo of tragedy. The five representatives of bolshevism spoke then with the assuredness of their personal, as well as collective, power. A few days later, on September 23, 1919, the Government in Moscow ordered the execution of sixty-six bourgeois opponents of the revolution, among them leading members of the Kadet Party. The Bolsheviks were so sure of themselves that they could condemn every opponent as a counter-revolutionary, and could accept this mass hecatomb of bourgeois victims with an easy conscience. And in another few years, when the internal war flared up in the Bolshevik Party, these men- Kamenev, Beloborodoff, Krestinsky-were themselves convicted by Stalin as counter-revolutionaries. They not only perished, but were defamed as traitors to the revolution, to communism, to the Russian working class. Earlier, they had helped to hurl genuine socialist parties and individuals into the abyss of historic oblivion not knowing that they were predestined to follow.