Russia & The Struggle for Peace/Chapter 12

by Michael S. Farbman

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE ARMY AND THE REVOLUTION

THE army came out in support of the Revolution and went over to the side of the people. It was one of those impalpable miracles of history which are impossible to grasp and to estimate; any attempt to explain it rationally or on purely logical grounds is bound to fail. Whole books will be written on this marvellous conversion. Every detail in the life of the Russian soldiers will be told; the tragic story of their sufferings, of their cruel and incompetent commanders who led them to slaughter without adequate equipment, and of their continual betrayal by treason at the front and marauders at the rear. The story will be told of all their hopes and their despondencies; and the more we know about these terrible three years of war, the more we understand the life of the Russian soldier, the more clearly we shall realise how this regeneration came about, transforming in a flash the Russian soldiers, the slaves of the Tsar and of the landowners, into the zealous supporters of the Revolution. But even then we shall not know the whole movement in the soul of the Russian soldiers during those few hours when their participation in the Revolution was decided.^[1]`

When in the historical February days the workers went out on the street, not only were they not sure that the soldiers were prepared to join them; they had very real grounds for the belief that a part at least of the garrison would obey their officers and give assistance to the police forces of Protopopov. But the miracle took place. The army, which was sent out to crush the people, went over to the people. On the first day the soldiers were not actually with the people, but already they were not against the people. The Nachalstvo still held sway over the will of the soldiers. There were some skirmishes between the workers and the soldiers. There were even killed and wounded on both sides. But a living sense of contact between the workers and soldiers was already beginning to be felt. The warm feeling of sympathy and fellow-feeling, whose seeds were sown in the early days of the war, was at last beginning to blossom forth. It came out at last, a living creative force of upheaval. And the last day of doubt and wavering in the hearts of the soldiers was the last day of the Autocracy in Russia. Next morning the soldiers poured out and melted together in one irresistible current with the revolutionary people. From that moment the Autocracy ceased to exist. Rodzianko, Guchkov, and the other "partisans of reform were still hoping to checkmate the forces of revolution."^[2] They continued to send S.O.S. messages to the Tsar imploring him to submit to reforms before it was too late. It was already too late. The Autocracy was founded on the division between the army and the people, and on that alone. As soon as the hostility and distrust of the people, which the Autocracy had been instilling into the army for decades past, was broken down, the Autocracy had no place in Russia. The autocratic feudal régime, which was always preaching the "union sacrée" of Russia, could not survive 24 hours of the real union of the people.

Unfortunately, however, this marvellous union between the soldiers and the people, which made the Revolution such an absolute success, was at once a hint to point out the way for counter-revolution. If only this union could be destroyed, if only the confidence between the soldiers and the people could be undermined, there was hope for a counter-revolution. Unfortunately the condition of the Russian army nourished the illusion that this was possible. I refer to the fact that it was not the army as a whole, but only the soldiers, who joined the Revolution. The cleavage and the sense of mutual distrust between the soldiers and their officers had been the most tragic fact in old autocratic Russia. And this cleavage was destined to destroy the greatest hopes of the Revolution.

Generally speaking, when in a Revolution the army is said to have gone over to the side of the people, it is understood to mean that the officers went over, either inspiring or simply leading the soldiers after them. Such was the famous attempt at revolution by the Decembrists under Nicholas I., when a group of the most enlightened idealists among the Russian officers tried to lead the soldiers to revolt. And it was generally held in Russian revolutionary circles that, though the soldiers might mutiny, such a mutiny of soldiers without the co-operation of their officers could never be transformed into a Revolution. During their long years of dogged and stubborn preparation, the Russian revolutionists carried out an incessant and unflinching propaganda among the soldiers. But they considered that for the success of the Revolution it was necessary to get the support of the officers. This accounts for the pessimism which was so frequently prevalent in Russian revolutionary circles. They saw the difficulty of relying on the officers in case of revolution. And, indeed, the Russian Revolution was the first revolution ever to be achieved by the soldiers going over to the people not only without the co-operation of the officers, but actually against their will. The Revolution was a soldier's revolution. It was a revolution of the workers, peasants and soldiers. The workers were struggling for political and industrial freedom; the peasants realised in the Revolution their age-long struggle for land. The soldiers rose in revolt against all the cruelty and degradation of barrack life and discipline. They had their own revolution, running parallel with the revolution of the people. Thus it was that the Russian Revolution brought about a definite and complete break between the soldiers and their officers.

It is true that, as soon as the Revolution triumphed, all the officers, from the high Generals to the lowest ranks, recognised the accomplished fact, expressed more or less boisterous delight, and took the oath to the new régime. But the wholesale transition of the officers was a grave misfortune for Russia and for the Russian army. Had the inveterate reactionaries and monarchists among the officers abdicated or been deposed along with the Autocracy, there might have been some hope for the regeneration of the army. But all the reactionary Generals and staffs were left in their places. The Revolution was a failure so far as the army was concerned. It did not eliminate the element of distrust. The old hatred between the officers and the soldiers, the hatred which had undermined the army of the Tsar, was preserved in the army of the Revolution, and was bound to undermine it also. And when the officers, especially the high officers, did join the Revolution, they did so in many cases under such monstrous circumstances that it only served to deepen the cleavage between them and the soldiers by sowing the seeds of further hatred and mistrust. Thus in one town the soldiers brought the high officers of the garrison into an open square and ordered them to take the oath under threat of machine gun fire. The incident would probably have ended in bloodshed but for the intervention of the local Soviet.

The officers in the rear adapted themselves more quickly to the new situation, and in fact many of the reactionary Generals were turned out. But the Generals at the front were more rigid and less pliable. Their attitude was unsympathetic and chilly—in some cases even openly hostile to the Revolution. They proclaimed their loyalty to the new régime, but began to collect reactionary elements round them at the front. The front became a refuge for reactionary officers who had fled from the Revolution. Even the attitude of the "Stavka" or General Headquarters was doubtful and suspicious. General Alexeiev threatened court-martial on all revolutionary "gangs" who were found disarming the railway gendarmes.^[3] In an order of the day, General Rad'ko-Dmitriev, another of the commanders-in-chief, threatened court-martial for refusals to salute. General Evert, of the same rank, actually defied the Provisional Government, and continued to recognise the Grand Duke Nicholas as the head of the army, appealing to the troops to support the Romanovs.

On the very next day after the Revolution, when the revolutionary forces were just beginning their new organisation, there was a conflict between the "parties of order" and the revolutionary democracy, which illumined in a flash the necessity for settling the status of the soldier and the constitution of the army decisively and at once. The situation was exceedingly difficult. The soldiers had left their barracks and joined the Revolution, their leaders in most cases being private soldiers themselves. The majority of the officers lay low, but in some regiments they gained the upper hand and tried to disarm the soldiers. It was a very uncertain and dangerous position. The soldiers were in a state of anxiety and tension. They had not the confidence to return to the barracks; at length they collected round the Duma, where the Soviet had established their headquarters. Thereupon Rodzianko, acting in the name of the Provisional Committee of the Duma (the Provisional Government was not yet formed), and without consulting the leaders of the democracy, made his very inopportune appeal to the soldiers, simply exhorting them to have confidence in their officers, to remain faithful to them, and to return to their barracks. Great indignation was aroused by this exhortation, which was, to say the least of it, suspicious.

This appeal of Rodzianko's was coincident with the first meeting of the representatives of the garrison with the Soviet of Workers' Delegates, which had been formed on the day before. The soldiers' delegates had brought with them the feeling of anxiety and uncertainty which was inherent in the soldiers' position. Their first demand was that the rights of the soldiers must be guaranteed by the Revolution. They would not return unconditionally to the barracks and to the authority of the officers. They demanded a clear definition of their status. It was at this meeting that they first uttered the words "pravà soldata"—the soldier's right—which played so great a part in the later conflicts of the Revolution. The appeal of the Duma Committee was discussed and repudiated with indignation. It must be remembered that this appeal was made at a time when even the deposition of the Tsar had not yet taken place. Rodzianko exhorted the soldiers to return to their officers, who had not yet been relieved of their allegiance to the Tsar, and had shown little inclination to discard it themselves. It was decided to counteract Rodzianko's appeal at once. The first meeting of the soldiers' delegates with the Soviet thus became the originator and collective author of the famous Order No. 1. This order was a definite move to establish the position of the soldier and his independence and citizenship. It called upon naval and military units of all kinds to elect soldiers' committees. It forbade the soldiers to give up their arms to the officers, even if they should demand it. It put the soldiers in their political activities under the authority of the Soviet, and freed them from all limitations and humiliations in their political, civil and private life; nevertheless, it expressly commanded that "in the ranks and in carrying out their military duties, the soldiers must observe the strictest military discipline." For the rest, it abolished the salute and the use of titles, and forbade the use of rude language and overbearing conduct on the part of the officers (e.g., the use of "thou" in a contemptuous sense).

The remnants of the "Black Hundred Press" and, following in their train, the majority of the foreign correspondents, have furiously attacked the revolutionary democracy for this Order No. 1, and tried to represent it as the origin of all Russia's misfortunes.^[4] They accuse it of undermining the discipline and confidence of the army. In reality it had precisely the opposite effect. It had an immediate quieting effect, and put an end to excesses on both sides. It restored some measure of confidence at a moment when confidence was entirely lacking.

From the very first hours of the Revolution, the revotionary democracy were anxiously concerned with the task of preserving the fighting fitness of the army. Their first thought was to stop the process of disintegration in the army. Notwithstanding this fact, the slanderers of the Revolution, both in Russia and in the Allied countries, have hissed and hooted at the revolutionary democracy, blaming them for the decomposition of the army. They began this slanderous misrepresentation in the first hours of the Revolution, and have continued it to this day. In their hatred they have not hesitated to accuse the revolutionary democracy—the really best men among the Russian workers and thinkers, whose devotedness to the people was proved by many years of suffering and persecution—of being mere servants and hirelings of German militarism and German autocracy. They have made the meanest insinuations to the effect that the leaders of the democracy were in German pay. Even to-day, when nothing is left of all these calumnies and slanders, when they are no longer believed in by any honest man in Russia, and no honest Russian would repeat them, there are still people in this country and in France who unashamedly give these calumnies out for the truth. I decline, as any Russian would decline, to make these things a subject of polemics. They are too mean. But one thing I would say: let those people be ashamed who, while professing their love of Russia, yet have a malicious joy in affirming and disseminating every kind of base calumny against Russia.

The conflicts and excesses between the soldiers and officers in Petrograd, and still more the grave tension between the High Command and the army at the front, made it quite obvious in the very first weeks of the Revolution that a simple return to the old discipline was impossible. The cleavage, and the distrust of the officers on the part of the soldiers, had gone too far. The policy which was recommended by the Provisional Committee of the Duma (Rodzianko's manifesto) was out of the question. Had it been followed, it would inevitably have led to absolute chaos and dissolution. It was obvious that, if anything could save the army and hold it together, it was the creation of a new authority in the place of the old "nachalstvo." Russia had to have either a democratic army or no army at all.

But the democratisation of the army, necessary as it was, was bitterly and relentlessly opposed by the united Moderate, Liberal and reactionary counter-revolutionary elements. They based their contentions mainly on the argument that a democratic army is impossible because the art of war demands great skill and expert knowledge on the part of the leaders. They drew sarcastic pictures of the strategy of elected committees of uneducated soldiers, or of bluejackets commanding warships, and so forth. But that was not the point. The Committees and Soviets never made the slightest pretence of interfering with the expert business of the General Staffs and of the officers. There was not a single resolution, not one article in the Socialist Press, which even suggested such a thing; and the opponents who raised such a storm of alarm and poured out such biting sarcasm were perfectly well aware of this fact. No: the democratisation of the army was not dangerous because the soldiers wanted to intervene in strategical questions. It was dangerous because a democratic army would inevitably intervene in political questions. Democratisation of the army was dangerous because it was bound to lead to democratisation of the war and of foreign policy. It was dangerous because it would remove the army from under the sway of the ruling classes. The propertied classes were so much alarmed at these dangers which they saw in the proposed democratisation of the army, that they left no stone unturned in their desperate efforts to prevent it. An appalling contradiction arose. The army was actually falling to pieces; it was losing all form and structure, and degenerating into an amorphous and sprawling mass. And the only remedy which could save the army, weld it together, imbue it with new life and give it form and stability—the thorough and consistent democratisation of the army—was not to be carried out. The chief enemies of democratisation were precisely those people who shouted loudest about the need of preserving the "fighting fitness" of the army. The alternatives were, as I have said, a democratic army or no army at all. The revolutionary democracy were heart and soul for democratisation; their opponents preferred to see the army fall to pieces before their eyes rather than consent to its regeneration on democratic lines.

1. Mr. Wilton evidently sees no difficulty in explaining how and why the soldiers joined the Revolution. After describing mutinies of the Guard Battalions at Petrograd "amid scenes of the greatest atrocity" and telling how the men of the Litovsky guards murdered their officers, Mr. Wilton says: "After satiating themselves with blood and slaughter, the Litovtzy poured out into the street. There they heard that the Duma had been closed. Here was a convenient means of justifying their crime. They had slain their 'oppressors.' It was all in defence of the people. Now they would rally round the Duma. 'To the Duma! To the Duma!' they cried…"—"Russia's Agony." Page 116.

   I do not know whether such an explanation, which in style and character resembles a detective novel, will satisfy the English reader. In Russia such nonsense could not be found, even in the worst sheets of newspapers of the "Black Hundred."

2. Mr. Wilton, "Russia's Agony." Page 129.
3. Alexeiev's Order of the Day of March 3 is very characteristic of the inability or unwillingness of the Generals to understand the new position. This Order was issued when the very necessary business of disarming the police of the old régime was in full swing. After referring to the "purely revolutionary gangs" from Petrograd who were disarming the railway gendarmes, the Order concludes: "… Wherever such self-appointed delegations make their appearance, they are not to be dispersed, but taken prisoner and court-martialled if possible on the spot, and the decision of the court is to be executed at once… 3rd March, 1917. No. 192. Alexeiev."
4. Of course, it is quite comprehensible that the authorship of this Order was attributed to a Jew named Nehamkes. The following document, quoted from the "Izvestia" of March 2, shows, however, that the soldiers of the Petrograd garrison were themselves the originators and authors of the much disputed Order No. 1:

   "Extract from the minute of the sitting of the Soviet of Workers' and Soldiers' Delegates on March 1:—

   "Considerable agitation is caused by the conduct of the Provisional Committee of the State Duma in relation to the Petrograd garrison. Delegates are arriving of those units which have already organised the elections for the Soviet. It is decided to continue the sitting uninterruptedly.

   "It is decided to devote the sitting to the deliberation of the following questions:—

   "(1) The relations of the soldiers to officers who return to barracks.

   "(2) The question of giving up arms.

   "(3) The question of the Military Commission and of the definition of its scope and powers.

   "On all these questions only the representatives of the garrison have the right to speak. (Italics are mine.)

   "Representatives of the following units took part in the discussions: The Yeger Guards, the Litovski Guards, the Aviation units, the Preobrajenski Guards, the Semionovski Guards, and many other units.

   "It was decided to approach the garrison with the following appeal: Not to give up arms. To elect company and battalion committees to manage all the internal affairs of the regiments. To organise the soldiers in the Soviet of Workers' and Soldiers' Delegates. To obey the commands of the Military Commission only in so far as they do not clash with the decisions of the Soviet of Workers' Delegates. To appoint on the Military Commission representatives of the soldiers "