Russia & The Struggle for Peace/Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE OFFENSIVE AND DISASTER
THE first month of the Coalition Government was a time of preparation and rapid development in Russia. The diverse forces which were to play so great a part at a later stage were ripening. On the one hand grew the forces of counter-revolution, on the other hand Bolshevism. At that time the separatist movement among the border peoples was beginning to threaten to disintegrate Russia. To the economic exhaustion of the country this new element of danger was added; no State could have been in a more critical position. Every effort was made to resist the tendency of disintegration. But nothing could properly arrest it short of the realisation of peace and the true reconstruction of the country. And yet Russia was drifting towards a continuation of the war.
On the front there was absolute quiet. Fraternisation had died out, but there was a kind of informal suspension of hostilities. The Germans, after their local attack on the Stokhod immediately after the Revolution, absolutely ceased all warlike operations. Probably they had several motives for their abstention. Undoubtedly they did not want to disturb the gradual disintegration of the Russian army by any aggressive movement which might inspirt new warlike ardour in the people and in the soldiers. Nor had they lost all hope that the Russian democracy might help to bring about a general peace; and they may even have cherished a hope that in the long run the democracy would make a separate peace. But their main motive was a fear of the internal dissatisfaction in Germany. An offensive undertaken against revolutionary Russia would have caused considerable agitation among the German workers, who would have interpreted it as an attempt to destroy the Revolution. But the longer the indefinite situation at the front continued, the more impatient grew the warlike party in Germany. They would have welcomed nothing more gladly than any kind of provocation from Russia's side. They could then crush Russia without any fear of opposition from the democratic elements in Germany.
While the Russian democracy was engaged in internal strife and disagreement, the Coalition Government began to organise its mad offensive. Towards the end of May all the bourgeois Press was discussing the offensive as a foregone conclusion. In fact, the offensive was on the lips of everyone. At that time the Soviet leaders demanded an explanation from Kerenski about the war situation and the rumours of an offensive. Kerenski made an important speech in which he explained that the work of diplomacy was very difficult; that Russia was beginning to carry less weight with her Allies, and that in diplomatic negotiations she must have this strongest argument of a tried and proven military efficiency and warlike power.[1] In the second place, he said, the question of offensive or no offensive was in the hands of the High Command. "It is a matter of strategy, of the technique of war, and of the special circumstances on the front." In vain the Left warned him that the offensive was above all a political question on which the whole position of the democracy, and, in fact, of Russia, before the world, depended. Least of all should it have been entrusted to the High Command, which was permeated with imperialistic sympathies, and altogether out of touch with the ideals and the expressed policy of the democracy. In vain the Left warned the Government that an offensive should not be made into a political weapon for diplomatic purposes. The offensive was decided on by the Government to impress the Allies.
The Russian military position at that time gave not the slightest justification even for an offensive on a limited scale. It is true that the suspension of hostilities for many months had helped Russia to accumulate a fairly large amount of munitions. But as far as food supply and clothing were concerned, the army was absolutely inadequately provisioned. And the really dangerous thing was the morale of the armies. Had Germany begun an offensive it would probably have inspired the Russian army with vigour and patriotism. But an offensive at a time when the old treaties with the Allies for imperialistic aims had not even been revised, an offensive carried out with an army which was vigorously protesting against this evil, was sheer madness.
But there were great temptations for the Russian generals. In the first place, there was the notion that the Austro-German armies on the Russian front were likewise infected and demoralised by the Revolution and subsequent fraternisation. Secondly, reconnaissances had shown that parts of the Austrian front were very thinly held, and that an easy success could be obtained by a well-organised surprise movement. There was an idea that a success on one part of the front might inspire the whole Russian army and people with a new patriotism and warlike fervour. And even a defeat was thought to have its saving features. It would again inspire the army and the people to repel the invaders.[2]
On the long fighting line from the Baltic to the Black Sea a small part was chosen which promised a more or less successful beginning.[3] The representatives of the soldiers had made it quite plain that the army was not ready to make a blow, and that even if they could be forced or persuaded to attempt one, they were absolutely unable to sustain a reverse without disaster. But the generals knew their way. They began an energetic campaign of "careful nursing" on the front, and carried away the Government by promises of a splendid beginning. This "nursing" consisted in collecting on a narrow section of the front, which was very thinly held by the enemy, specially chosen divisions; but even the soldiers of these divisions were little inclined for an offensive, and the High Command collected at the same point the British armoured cars, Checho-Slovak contingents, a good many British and French aviators, and all the shock battalions, the Kornilovists, "battalions of death," and the other troops which soon after the disaster played the chief part in the counter-revolutionary movements. But that was not all. Whole regiments were made up of officers only. This heterogenous force, altogether in opposition to the main mass of the army and to the most important public opinion in Russia, consisting partly 01 foreigners and partly of counter-revolutionists, was thrown in to take the most fateful step, which was a gamble on the whole destinies of Russia and the Revolution. The criminal frivolity of this gamble can be judged from the story told in the "'Times' History of the War" (Part 170, p. 21):
"Much heart-burning had been endured by the Russian commanders before the advance. Individual units were constantly developing sporadic weakness. Several mutinies broke out. … One of the corps commanders prayed silently during the fateful minutes preceding the appointed time. Would his men go over the top? He hoped so, but could not feel sure. When, punctually at 9 a.m., the troops swarmed over and the attacking waves rolled onward, this general devoutly crossed himself."
In spite of all the risks and disadvantages which this condition of the army involved, and notwithstanding the blunders of the generals (one of the generals had to be dismissed during the advance itself), the attack under the very favourable strategical circumstances easily led to an initial success. The Russian army advanced, took many prisoners, and occupied a number of positions. The Government celebrated a great victory. The troops which participated in this offensive received red banners and were called "troops of the first of July." The imperialist elements in Petrograd made a great patriotic demonstration. Generals dismissed by the Revolution, Cadet leaders, and members of foreign missions went in procession, making great jubilations. The Morning Post of July 5th, under the title "The Renaissance of Russia," describes these rejoicings as follows: "Processions with hastily improvised banners formed in various parts of the town, and their component parts were a very different class to those seen during the past three months in the streets of Petrograd. Banners bore devices such as 'War to a finish,' 'Hurrah for victory,' 'Bravo the armies of the Revolution,' 'Down with politics,' and one which summed up all the rest in the words 'Unity and victory.' For many hours cheering' crowds of the better class of people—with hardly any uniforms visible except, here and there, those of stray officers of the Allies, one of whom made a speech in Russian—remained before the Mariansky Palace listening to the speakers. Other crowds proceeded to visit the Allied Embassies. Before the British Embassy, where M. Miliukov spoke, an unpleasant incident was caused by an attempt at a hostile demonstration on the part of soldiers of the regiment whose barracks are near the Embassy across the Champ de Mars. …" It was indeed a holiday in "the imperialistic street." For them the renaissance had begun.
The democracy were faced with the accomplished fact. There was deep anxiety for the immediate future. They knew that active hostilities would now inevitably break out on all fronts, and that the condition of the army would not enable it to bear the strain. They were very angry, for they realised that this small success in Galicia was bought at the price of the loss of all their great hopes for a general democratic peace. They knew that the German militarists would be only too glad to interpret this Russian offensive as a provocation and to have a pretext for carrying into effect the long-cherished desire to aim a blow at revolutionary Russia. But they had now no choice. They had to support the war policy, which they had rejected all the time as being unable to lead to a democratic peace. They sent greetings to the Galician front and appeals to the army inspiring them to fight with all their courage for the Revolution. The Bolsheviks alone remained aloof, and from this moment the hostility between them and the moderates became more implacable.
Meanwhile the Germans and Austrians, who had been taken by surprise, recovered and made a strong thrust, and in proportion as their attack increased in intensity the morale of the artificially conglomerated Russian troops became worse. Indiscipline, and even mutiny, broke out more frequently. And such was the appalling disintegration that the army fled in panic, even before the Germans appeared in their full strength.
This disaster is commonly attributed to the Bolshevik propaganda at the front and the attempted rising in Petrograd against the Coalition Government. I am the last person to justify the Bolshevik rising in July, 1917. I condemn it because revolutionary methods were altogether out of place in Russia after the Revolution. The Bolsheviks later on conquered the power in the Petrograd Soviet by purely constitutional means, and were then strong by the support of the workers. In July, being in a minority in the Soviet, they tried to make themselves strong by machine-guns. That is why the July rising was so disgusting and failed to inspire any confidence or enthusiasm for the Bolshevik policy. But to attempt to put the responsibility for the disaster at the front on the Bolsheviks is absolutely unjustifiable. It is a deceitful move on the part of those who wish to conceal their own grave responsibility. Responsibility for the disaster is wholly borne by those who led the broken army into a frivolous adventure against the wishes, and contrary to the avowed policy, of the democracy. And even if the Bolsheviks had been responsible for the bad morale of the troops, the Government and the High Command knew that the troops were in such a dangerous mood and that the offensive was bound to lead to disaster. On the whole line only one small section was found at which an offensive was conceivably possible, and that only by "careful nursing" and by bringing in specially trained and foreign troops. It was a gamble on Russia's future, it was a gamble on all the great gains of the Revolution, and nobody should have dared to undertake it. If the Allies tried to compel the Coalition Government to do it, it should have refused. If the Allies threatened to make a separate peace at Russia's expense, it should have condemned their policy, and appealed to the peoples for a general peace, as the Russian democracy had been doing ever since the Revolution. Whatever the consequences, it was the Government's duty to refuse to undertake that frivolously adventurous offensive. The responsibility for the consequent disaster rests on the Government and on all those who impelled them to this senseless and suicidal policy.
The disaster in Galicia unbound the conflicting- forces in Russia. The power of the moderate elements, who were responsible for the offensive, was fundamentally shaken. The counter-revolutionary forces came out into the open. For a short time there was a revived unity of the democracy in fighting against them, but soon the democracy underwent the final split which led to the Bolshevik revolution.
The struggle for a general peace was practically at an end. The democracy who had sustained such a blow, such a disappointment, at the hands of the Allied Governments, tried an appeal to the Allied Socialists and working classes. They hoped to get peace by a conference of the workers' international. But on this occasion the imperialists were once more stronger than the workers. The Stockholm Conference was vetoed by the French, Italian, and British Governments. The working classes of the Allied countries accepted unconditional victory as the only way to peace. This was a death-blow to the Soviet of the moderates. They lost all their influence and all their standing. After the Stockholm Conference was overthrown, the leaders of the first Soviet were eclipsed.
The Bolshevik Revolution of November tried new methods to bring about a general democratic conclusion of the war. A few months earlier their methods would probably have been crowned with success. As it was, deprived of an army, faced with the general hostility of Russia's propertied classes, pursued by the malevolence of the Allies, they had at length to submit to a disastrous separate peace.
NOWADAYS much energy is spent in condemning "secret diplomacy." More and more evidence is coming to light of the immense harm which secret diplomacy has done to mankind and to the world, and the full tale of these evils is certainly not yet told. But I venture to suggest that all the harm done by secret diplomacy is trifling in comparison to the evil effects of the absolutely public and unconcealed profession of journalism. I cannot help thinking that the whole history of the last four years would have been different if journalists had not betrayed their perfectly simple and honourable profession of reporting the plain truth. Secret diplomacy could certainly never have achieved its awful complications of mistrust without the deplorable assistance of the journalists. Imagine what the relations of this country to Russia would be to-day if the British correspondents in Russia had contented themselves with reporting the simple facts, instead of considering themselves as self-appointed ambassadors with a mission to make politics. To this day, thanks to the misleading articles of the majority of the British and French correspondents, the French and British publics have no conception of the actual spirit and ideas of the revolutionary democracy of Russia, nor of its attitude to the question of war and peace.
At the Pelican Press, 2 Carmelite Street, London, E.C. 4
- ↑ Kerenski's Under-Secretary, Colonel Yakubovich, stated at the conference of the delegates from the front that France and England had approached the Provisional Government with a declaration beseeching them to undertake the offensive. If not, they declared that the inactivity on the Russian front would force them, in the final reckoning, to follow the path of separate peace with Germany. This declaration by Yakubovich was published in all the Russian papers and in the official Gazette.
- ↑ After the July offensive, the Allied Press actually used to call every reverse on the front, even the fall of Riga, a "blessing in disguise."
- ↑ "The Times History of the War," Part 170, "The Russian Offensive and Retreat," says (p. 12): "Faithful to the call of their obligations as Allies, seeking manfully to justify the Revolution, unheeding the clamour of Bolshevik agitation and German agents whom they were powerless to bridle or subdue, the Provisional Government gladly adopted M. Kerenski's views as to the possibility of a general offensive. A conference at headquarters between Ministers and the Supreme Commander -in-Chief, General Brusilov, who had been transferred from the South-Western front to succeed General Alexeiev, did not yield so much promise. It was ascertained that a simultaneous offensive on all the fronts would necessitate indefinite delay. The Northern front had suffered such ravages from the proximity of Petrograd and its demoralising influences that scarcely any hope could be entertained of its reviving before the season had matured too much for effective operations. The Western or Central front, recently commanded by General Gurko, was better off, as the Bolshevik strongholds, Petrograd and Kronstadt, were farther away. But it was badly infected, and nothing could be done much before the end of July. The South-Western front looked more promising. With careful nursing it might be counted upon to deliver a blow some time in June." (The italics are mine.)