Paul Dukes (Auth.) - October and The World - Perspectives On The Russian Revolution-Macmillan Education UK (1979)

October and the World
Also by Paul Dukes
A History ofRussia: Medieval. Modern. Contemporary

The Emergence ofthe Super-Powers: A Short Comparative History of
the USA and the USSR
Catherine the Great and the Russian Nobility
Russia under Catherine the Great (2 vols)
The illustration on the cover of Lenin is taken from Links! Links! Links!
Eine Chronik in Vers und Plakat 1917-1921 by Fritz Mieran (Berlin:
Rutter und Loening, 1970) from a Russian source.
October and the
World:
Perspectives on the Russian
Revolution
PAUL DUKES
M
Paul Dukes 1979
Softcover reprint ofthe hardcover 1st edition 1979
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or
transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission.
First published 1979 by

THE MACMILLAN PRESS LTD
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Associated companies in Delhi Dublin

Hong Kong Johannesburg Lagos Melbourne
New York Singapore and Tokyo
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Dukes, Paul, b. 1934

October and the world.
1. Russia-History-Revolution, 1917-1921
2. Russia - Politics and government, 1917-1936
I. Title
947.084'1 DK265
ISBN 978-0-333-18391-5 ISBN 978-1-349-16142-3 (eBook)

DOI 10.1007/978-1-349-16142-3
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Contents
Preface vii
PART ONE: Russia and Modern Revolutions 1
1 The General Crisis of the Seventeenth Century 3
2 The Democratic Revolution of the Eighteenth Century 23
3 The Peaceful Modernisation of the Nineteenth Century 50
PART Two: The Russian Revolutions and Their Impact 74

4 The Three Russian Revolutions 76
5 The Western World 103
6 The Third World 133
PART THREE: Revolutions in Retrospect and Prospect 169

7 Sixty Years After 171
Notes and References 190

Bibliographical Note 219
Index 220
To Daniel and Ruth
and their generation
Preface
The Russian Revolution, which occurred just over sixty years ago,
was hundreds of years in the making. The purpose of this book is to
throw some light on the origins and significance of the great event by
making use of such chronological perspectives. It aims in particular
to show how one of the Revolution's major aspirations, to universa-
lity, was developed from the seventeenth to the twentieth century by
Russia's increasing involvement in world affairs, especially in the
revolutions of those modern times. It then illustrates the manner in
which that aspiration was radiated and echoed during the years of
the Russian Revolution itself, culminating in October 1917 and the
immediate aftermath. Finally, it directs attention to at least some of
the ways in which objective appraisal ofthe Revolution has been hin-
dered and helped during the decades since its occurrence.
Although not originally a specialist on the Russian Revolution, I
developed a close acquaintance while conducting a Special Subject
on it for ten years at the University of Aberdeen before passing the
course over to the capable supervision of David Longley, a genuine
specialist. The basic idea for the book came to me in 1970 during the
course of a sabbatical, round-the-world study tour and was taken up
again and enlarged during the course of another, spent largely at the
University of Auckland, New Zealand, in 1974. While the research
and writing were being completed, I received much help and encour-
agement from a large number of sources. Some of these are ac-
knowledged in the notes. I should also like to express my gratitude
to colleagues, students and friends at the University of Aberdeen, in
particular to John Hiden, in co-operation with whom I wrote the ar-
ticle on Nazi-Soviet comparisons referred to below, from which has
been taken the first half of chapter 3 and a few paragraphs of Chap-
ter 7. Special thanks must also go to Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, of New
York State University at Oswego, who very kindly sent me a full
summary of his reading of the work in Japanese referred to in Chap-
ter 5. note 62. I am also very grateful to Stephen White for the loan
viii PREFACE
of the typescript for his book, Britain and the Bolshevik Revolution:
A Study in the Politics of Diplomacy 1920-1924, also to be published
by Macmillan. The book would never have been completed without
all kinds of help from my wife Rosie, varying from proof-reading to
restraint of our children, the dedicatees. Neither they nor anybody
else but myself is to be blamed for the book's errors and other inad-
equacies.
Part of the book has already appeared in a rather different form; I
am grateful for permission from those listed below to use this materi-
al, which includes:
'Russia and the Eighteenth Century Revolution', History, vol. 56
(1971): Professors R. H. C. Davis and Keith Robbins.
'Russia and Mid-Seventeenth Century Europe: Some Comments on
the Work ofB. F. Porshnev', European Studies Review, vol. 4 (1974):
Professor J. H. Shennan and SAGE Publications, London and
Beverley Hills.
'Russia and the General Crisis of the Seventeenth Century', New
Zealand Slavonic Journal, no. 2 (1974): Professor Patrick Wadding-
ton.
WithJ. W. Hiden, 'Towards an Historical Comparison of Nazi Ger-
many and Soviet Russia in the 1930s', New Zealand Slavonic Journal,
no. 2 (1978): Professor Patrick Waddington.
Translations from Russian are my own unless otherwise stated or
implied. Transliteration is a variation of that adopted by the Slavic
Review. Final-ii is rendered thus in the notes, -y in the text. Hard and
soft signs have been eliminated from the text but not the Notes.
Russian dates in chapters 2 and 4 up to March 1918 are given Old
Style, that is eleven days behind New Style in the eighteenth century,
twelve in the nineteenth and thirteen in the twentieth. An author
cited in the notes is not normally included in the Index.
King's College, Old Aberdeen PAUL DUKES

June 1978
Part One
Russia and Modern Revolutions
Modern history began with the end of the Thirty Years War and the
English Revolution; the execution of Charles I was the culminating
moment in the 'general crisis' of the seventeenth century. Russia has
usually been placed on the sidelines of this great movement, or even
beyond them, both by those Western scholars who specialise in its
historyl and those who do not. 2 In chapter I, the following view of
the Czech historian J. V. Polisensky is taken as a point of departure:
It is perhaps not too much to say that a perspective for the study of
the Thirty Years War has been opened which may be compared
with the possibilities created by the October Revolution after 1917
for the study of international relations in the age of imperialism. 3
The case is examined for considering Russia as an indirect partici-

pant in that war and as a not too remote respondent to pressures such
as those which produced the English Revolution. While absolutism
was crushed in England, however, it came to be entrenched in
Russia.
The French Revolution followed American independence at the
end of the eighteenth century to constitute the centrepiece of a wider
'democratic revolution' which left few parts of the Western world
2 RUSSIA AND MODERN REVOLUTIONS
untouched. Again, the customary interpretation of Western special-

ists and non-specialists has been to place Russia on the periphery or
outside it. 4 In chapter 2, a more positive argument is once more put
forward, that Russian absolutism found itself under severe threat,
but grew in confidence because of its survival.
During the nineteenth century, that confidence became increas-
ingly shaken as even the tsars and their establishments came to rea-
lise that Russia was falling behind in the process of modernisation.
Could Russia catch up without making any radical alterations in its
governmental system? This has been a subject for much Western dis-
cussion of Russia under the last tsars.' In chapter 3, the subject is
considered in the form of an estimate of the chances of Russia follow-
ing two alternative routes, the German and American. Tsarism's fail-
ure to complete the process of modernisation in a peaceful manner
would produce a revolution wider in its implications than those of
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and make Russia the focus
of what appeared strongly for a few years to be a threat or promise
for the whole world.
1 The General Crisis ofthe
Seventeenth Century
In 1965 Christopher Hill wrote that some agreement had been

reached on seventeenth-century history. There was an economic and
political crisis all over Western and Central Europe at that time;
again this suggested that the comparative method, if discreetly ap-
plied, might be 'a useful tool for the historian, the nearest he can get
to a laboratory test'. English history, Hill added, would not then be
considered as 'something unique and God-given'.1
After some remarks about Russia's involvement in the evolution
of Europe in the early modern period, this first chapter will use Hill's
argument as a basis for estimating the degree of her participation in
the 'general crisis'. But first of all it will be necessary to establish
Russia's credentials to make an appearance in each ofthese two con-
texts. Western specialists in Russian history can be as parochial as
those in any other field, often viewing the object of their special-
isation as a country apart, while Western historians in general still
tend to exclude Muscovy from their vision of seventeenth-century
Europe. Was this how contemporaries saw the continent?
John Milton tells us:
The study of Geography is both profitable and delightful:

but the Writers thereof, though some of them exact enough
in setting down Longitudes and Latitudes, yet in those other
relations of Manners, Religions, Government and such like,
accounted Geographical, have missed their proportions ....
[This fact] perhaps brought into the mind of some men,
more learned and judicious, who had not the leisure or pur-
pose to write an entire Geography, yet at least to assay
something in the description of one or two Countreys,
which might be as a Pattern or Example, to render others
more cautions hereafter, who intended to make the whole
work. 2
And so Milton decided to follow a certain precedent3 in con-

centrating upon Muscovy and England, explaining that he
'began with Muscovy, as being the most northern Region of
Europe reputed civil'. He therefore clearly believed that Muscovy
was an integral part of Europe and that it bore comparison with Eng-
land from the point of view of 'Manners, Religions, Government and
such like'.
On this occasion Milton was not using his power of imagination
but, as he himself said, following precedent. Many contemporary
writers saw Muscovy as the eastern extremity of the European conti-
nent rather than as lying beyond it. Admittedly, there was little
agreement among them as to where exactly Europe came to an end -
the river Don, the river Volga, the Ural mountains or even points
further east were all put forward. Moreover, the geographical, racial,
linguistic, religious and other reasons for including Russia were not
often mentioned. And a number of writers, although it would seem a
minority, did exclude her.
The majority appear to have put Muscovite Russia in Europe from
about the end of the sixteenth century, that is from just after the time
at which travellers had started to open her up to Western infiltration
after a long period of relative - if by no means complete - separation.
J. Q. Cook says that 'as the seventeenth century progressed Western
writers increasingly came to think of Russia as being geographically
a part of Europe'.4 Perhaps the majority opinion was most graphi-
cally expressed by the writer talking of the European body politic
who likened the continent to a woman whose 'head is Spain, ...
bosom is France, arms are Italy and Britain, stomach is Germany,
navel is Bohemia, and the other parts of the body are Norway, Den-
mark, Sweden, Finland, Livonia, Lithuania, Prussia, Poland, Hun-
gary, ... Greece, ... and Muscovy'.' This is the context in which an
examination of some aspects of the evolutionary formation of
modern Europe will now take place. 6
In a passive manner, then, Muscovy was brought closer to the rest
of Europe by the voyages of the late sixteenth century around the
northern cape and through the Baltic. Actively, the Russian people
were able to recover from the great disaster of the Time of Troubles
at the turn of the century, to drive out the Polish, Swedish and Turkic
invaders and to re-establish something like their national integrity.
This resurgence undoubtedly had an effect on Eastern and Central
Europe and contributed to the agonies of the Thirty Years War. At
the same time, the Russians were moving eastwards, consolidating
their hold on Siberia. 7 Thus Russia was contributing to the political
definition of the states of modern Europe and participating in the
infiltration into Asia.'
THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 5
Economically, too, Muscovy was becoming more integrated with
Europe. A contemporary observed at the middle of the seventeenth
century that:
All the peoples of Europe are co-operating among themselves,

Spain gives iron, soft wool and fruits, England -leather, wool, tin
and lead, France - grain, salt, wine and oil, Germany - horses,
weapons, iron and silver, the Low Countries - money, Italy and
Greece - silk, the northern countries - furs, copper and fats,
timber for ships, Poland and Russia-luxury furs, honey and wax. 9
Deficient in some of its details, this observation was correct in its

general conception. Such a point was clearly made by Sir Thomas
Roe, the itinerant ambassador extraordinary, who wrote to the
Prince of Orange attheend of the 1620s:
The loss of the free trade ofthe Balticque sea is more dangerous to
the kingdome of England and to the United Provinces than any
other prosperity of the house of Austria, being the Indyes of the
materialls of shipping, and consequently, both of their strength,
riches, and subsistence. 1o
Russia's own part in the Baltic trade at this time is difficult to estab-
lish because it was carried out exclusively by middlemen; but its im-
portance is reflected in the seriousness of the rivalry for Russian
trade between the English and the Dutch and also the Swedes, both
in the Baltic itself and by the alternative route around the northern
cape. II
Muscovy could not become involved with the rest of Europe
politically and economically and preserve her Slavic Orthodox cul-
ture complete and unaffected. Admittedly, it was not the spirit of
scientific enquiry that infiltrated so obviously as that of ecclesi-
astical reform. In Moscow in the 1640s a group called the Zealots of
Piety was formed, aiming at the purification of the church from
impurities and deviations. The leader of the group was the tsar's
confessor and its members included the two future protagonists of
the Russian Schism, Nikon and Avvakum. Nikon was to become
Patriach and to reform the church, while alienating the tsar in the
overbearing manner in which he did it. After Nikon's disgrace, the
church was on the road to the submission to the state which was
completed in the reign of Peter the Great. Meanwhile Avvakum led
the schismatic Old Believer movement in protest at the changes in
sacrosanct tradition and at the impending nationalisation of the
church. On first hearing of the Nikonian reforms, some of
Avvakum's followers at a monastery near the White Sea are re-

ported to have lamented: 'Brothers, brothers! Alas, alas! Woe, woe!
The faith of Christ has fallen in Russia, just as in other lands .... '12
These monks were, of course, referring to the decline of Orthodoxy,
but one may be permitted to speculate whether they did not also have
in mind the great religious upheavals of the non-Orthodox Europe.
Certainly, later historians have put forward the hypothesis that the
Old Believer movement could well have been part of a wider
phenomenon, the Jansenists in France and the Covenanters in Scot-
land both being suggested as parallels. 13 Throughout the continent
established churches made a compromise with the self-assertive
state, while schismatic or sectarian groups sacrificed themselves in
the vain attempt to adhere to what they believed to be former stan-
dards of pure devotion. In a far less perceptible and more restricted
manner, the newer European spirit of scientific enquiry was also
being carried into the court of the tsar and other Muscovite centres. 14
One further task remains to be carried out before we proceed to
examine the violent events in Russia in the middle of the seventeenth
century and assess their comparability with the contemporaneous
revolutions of Western Europe. This is to describe the national devel-
opment and international relations of Muscovy in the first half of the
century. The Time of Troubles was appropriately depicted in a work
by Henry Brereton published in London in 1614 and entitled: Newes
of the Present Miseries of Russia occasioned by the late Warre in that
Countrey . .. together with the Memorable Occurrences of our own
Nationale Forces, English and Scottes, under the Pay of the now King
ofSwethland. Of a campaign launched by the Swedes in 1610, Brere-
ton tells us:
Now must the miseries of Russia be augmented by the coming of

this Armie compounded of so many Nations, English, French and
Scots. For though they came as a friend, and for their aide, yet who
can stay an Armie from spoile and rapine, which the unhappy
Russian found true in the pursuit of this bloody warre .... IS
It was experiences such as this that made Russians get together to rid
their land of foreigners and moved one of their leaders, Prince
Dmitry Pozharsky, to declare in 1612: 'We do not now need hired
people from other states .... We ourselves, boyars and nobles ...
serve and fight for the holy godly churches, for our Orthodox Chris-
tian faith and for our fatherland ... .' Pozharsky further asserted:
'We will defend ourselves from the Polish and Lithuanian peoples
with the Russian state and without hired people.'16 In such a spirit of
patriotism, the Zemsky Sobor or Assembly of the Whole Land came
together in 1613 to bring the Time of Troubles to an end with the
election of a new tsar, Michael- the first Romanov.
But the new dynasty soon discovered that it could by no means dis-
pense with the service of mercenaries, hard-pressed as it was by
Polish and Swedish attacks from the west and incursions from the
south by the Turks and their henchmen, the Crimean Tatars. There
were nearly 450 foreign officers in the Russian army in 1624;17 and in
1630 Michael's government decided to form regiments on the Euro-
pean model with foreigners in charge as commanders and instruc-
tors. As a decree put it, all foreigners of the old and new emigration,
whether landed or not, were to come to Moscow for military service
under two colonels, Frantz Petsner and Alexander Leslie. An insuffi-
cient number answered the summons, and so at the end of 1630 Leslie
proposed to negotiate for further recruits with the Protestant govern-
ments of Sweden, Denmark, the Netherlands, England, and the free
towns of Hamburg and LUbeck. Leslie's plan appears to have met
with some success, but Muscovy's ensuing attempt to wrest Smo-
lensk from Poland ended in failure. IS However, the tsar's govern-
ment continued to devote its main efforts to building up the army.
Peter the Great, who has often been given credit for the regular-
isation of the army, himself gave credit to his father Alexis, pointing
out that in 1647 Alexis began to use regular forces on the basis of a
military manual published in that year after its translation from the
German. 19 In fact, as is clear enough from Leslie's activities in 1630,
the process was more general, and it was not completed until the
eighteenth century. Up to that time, highly trained mercenaries and
Russians found themselves fighting alongside a peasant militia, Cos-
sacks and savage tribesmen. 1o
In the great conflict of the seventeenth century, the Thirty Years
War, Muscovy was an important, albeit indirect participant; the
nature and context of this participation have been analysed by
B. F. Porshnev11 who gives the following analysis of the political
structure of Europe in the 1640s. Stretched from the I 620s to 1653 in
order to allow discussion of two chronological focal points - the
'Swedish' period of the Thirty Years War (1629-35) and the English
Revolution coupled with the end of that war and the end of the
French Fronde - this slice of time clearly reveals the interconnection
ofthe continent from one end to the other. For example, the 1632-4
Smolensk War engaged Poland-Lithuania against Muscovy and
thus allowed France's ally Sweden to complete its move into the
heart of the Habsburg Empire. 12 The interaction goes beyond
Europe, because Muscovy could not have entered the Smolensk War
ifher Asian neighbours had been causing her anxiety at this time. But
the nature of the Thirty Years War shows that Europe itself was a
meaningful entity at that time, with all the states ofthe continent sup-
porting or opposing the Habsburgs with men or money. The English
Revolution was essentially to the disadvantage of the Habsburgs,
besides having an influence in Europe and beyond in its own right.
Mazarin was worried about the spread of the English Revolution
to France and for this reason pursued peace at Westphalia so that the
dangers inherent in the Fronde could be overcome. Porshnev's prin-
cipal primary sources here are Mazarin's letters, diplomatic corre-
spondence and pamphlets. For example, going to take up the
position of ambassador to England in 1646, Bellievre received in-
structions describing the 'dangerous consequences' which would
follow the destruction or the severe limitation of the English
monarch's power. The establishment of an English republic would
be
... a bad example, which the subjects of other sovereigns will

extract from the revolt of the English and the Scots against their
King, which sovereigns consequently must not allow that the evil
so easily capable of arousing imitation will reach the limit of its de-
velopment and culminate in a happy end.
Moreover, Louis XIV wrote, or had written for him, that 'We also
for important reasons feel a threat ofthe abolition of our own mon-
archical power .. .' Y France would have intervened in the English
Civil War if she had not herself been deeply immersed in domestic
troubles in the shape of the Fronde and foreign entanglements con-
cerned with the last phase of the Thirty Years War. Mazarin sought
peace to protect stability at home and restore it in England, perhaps
with the help of the Scots. When it was too late to help Charles,
Mazarin was quick to see that Cromwell was the Napoleon rather
than the Robespierre of the English Revolution, to use Engels's
phrase, and made a rapprochement with him, even if official recog-
nition of the republic did not come until 1653.
Pushed towards peace by France, Sweden was divided between a
Christina worried about civil disturbance and fear of isolation on the
one hand, and an Oxenstierna keen to take the Swedish successes of
1646 to their logical conclusion. Pomerania was the principal bone of
contention, with Brandenburg supported by Holland and other
powers fearful of Swedish domination of the Baltic resisting the con-
cession to Sweden of the whole of Pomerania. Porshnev argues that
pressure towards settlement came from a quarter not properly ap-
preciated hitherto by Western historians, Poland-Lithuania.
Porshnev follows a long line of Polish historians in his examina-
tion of the attempt ofWladyslaw IV to strengthen his authority over
the nobility (szlachta). Failing in his attempt to gain sufficient in-
ternal support, the principal possibility - the Cossacks - proving too
dangerous, Wfadyslaw placed his hopes on a vigorous foreign policy,
hoping to find a base abroad for consolidation at home. Porshnev
believes that the most progressive Polish-Lithuanian move would
have been towards the west, as part of the anti-Habsburg coalition.
Instead, Wladystaw alarmed Sweden and other potential allies by
continuing the policies of his predecessors by leaning towards the
pro-Habsburg side while seeking for an anti-Turkish crusade. At the
same time, he unwittingly succeeded in encouraging the Cossacks to
fight for their independence under Khmelnitsky, a struggle with
ramifications from France to Transylvania.
Porshnev now takes a closer look at another important element in
the European situation, the Muscovite state and European politics in
the 1640s. He divides Moscow's foreign policy from the peace of
Polianov in 1634 to its abrogation in 1654 into three phases: from
1635 to 1642; 1643 to 1645; 1645 to 1654. The first phase was taken up
for the most part by the construction of the Belgorod line, separating
the Muscovite state from the wild steppe. The line's purpo"e was not
only to keep out the Tatars but also to stop peasants from running
away to join the Cossacks. A minor theme was the abortive nego-
tiation for an anti-Turkish alliance with either the Poles or the
Swedes. The second phase began with the energetic attempt of Habs-
burg diplomacy to activate the pro-Polish, anti-Swedish tendency in
Muscovite policy, with the assistance of a papal attempt at rappro-
chement with Orthodoxy. A. L. Ordin-N ashchokin, often thought of
as a precursor of Peter the Great, made unworthy concessions in the
Polish direction when he should have been thinking of the primary
historic task of uniting the 'two Russias'. With the accession of Alek-
sei Mikhailovich in 1645, Morozov and Nikon were soon in the
ascendancy and Ordin-Nashchokin's policy reversed until the
latter's return at the time of the Russo-Swedish War of 1656-8.
Returning to the other end of Europe and the centre of the book's
attention, Porshnev deals with the Franco-Spanish struggle and the
Neapolitan Revolt. Here he explains why, after pressing for peace
with the Habsburgs with some urgency, Mazarin decided to delay it.
The reason was that in 1647 there opened up before him the great
hope of crushing the Spanish Habsburgs, who threatened France
from three sides, from the Pyrenees, from Italy and from the Nether-
lands. Harassed already by a breakaway Portugal and a revolt in
Catalonia earlier in the decade, the Spanish Habsburgs were stricken
at the end of it by a revolt in Naples, - one of the many revolts of that
troublesome time throughout Europe. While the Spanish and Aus-
trian Habsburgs were undoubtedly split after 1648, this was not
lO RUSSIA AND MODERN REVOLUTIONS
solely the result of a machinating Mazarin; the Netherlands had

played a big part which was recognised in the separate
Dutch-Spanish treaty and reflected in the general acceptance
throughout Europe ofthe republican form of government as well as
the recognition of nascent nationalism, for example in Germany.
Nevertheless the English republican nation did not survive as, in the
calm atmosphere following the peace of the Pyrenees, monarchical
Europe was able to achieve the restoration of the Stuarts.
Next Porshnev considers the vertical and horizontal (or diach-
ronic and synchronic) approaches to the problem of Russia and the
states system. Part of the understanding is to be found in the Viking
and Byzantine worlds of the tenth and eleventh centuries, not to
mention the Turkic peoples who in the shape of the Mongols made
their greatest impact in the next period, pressing in on Russia during
the thirteenth century from the east while the Germans did so from
the west. From the end of the fifteenth century, another period com-
mences as both these threats receded and Muscovy was able to con-
solidate its existence in a situation still dangerous with the Asian
front quiet but the Turks, the Poles and the Swedes all causing anx-
iety from the European side. These three states of the eastern barrier,
as the French called it, were the protagonists of the horizontal situ-
ation of the seventeenth century. The Poles as the main obstacle to
the reunification of the two Russias and the chief impediment to
closer relations between Russia and the rest of Europe should have
been the primary target and those statesmen who continued the anti-
Polish policy of Filaret (Michael Romanov's father and chief
adviser) were therefore the most progressive. Of the other two neigh-
bours, the Turks were inhibited from European expansion by such
circumstances as tension with Persia, although the unfixed nature of
Russia's southern boundary and the turbulence of the Crimean
Tatars meant that relations between Russia and Turkey could never
be completely happy, even setting aside the problem of the Orthodox
Balkans.
As for the Swedes, their expansion is the theme of the following
section of Porshnev's arguments, deservedly so in the light of their
successes under Gustavus Adolphus. Porshnev explains these largely
through the support given to him by France and Russia. Russia's en-
gagement of Poland culminating in the Smolensk War was recog-
nised by Richelieu as an important factor in the situation allowing
Gustavus Adolphus to penetrate deep into the heart of the Habsburg
Empire, and the Swedish king was further assisted by subsidies from
Muscovy in the disguised form oflow-price grain resold on the mar-
kets of Europe at a great profit. But after the death of Gustavus
Adolphus at the end of 1632, the Swedes were already losing their
THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY II
grip when Russian embarrassments brought the Smolensk War to an
end in 1634 and allowed the Poles to turn their attention to them.
Porshnev declares:
What a complicated chain of inter-relations. Turkey because of

war with Persia could not interfere in the Thirty Years War in
time. The peasants raised a revolt in Russia. The Kalmyks did not
want to go on a campaign together with the Tatars because of a dif-
ference in religion. And the Swedes suffered a defeat in Germany
because of the changed situation in Poland. France under the con-
trol of Richelieu putting aside the interests of confessional politics
was forced to rush into a difficult struggle for the salvation of its
national independence. 24
In conclusion Porshnev widens his argument to the Eurasian scale.

The fact that two-thirds of the world's population probably lived in
Asia in the seventeenth century makes it necessary not to omit that
continent from any examination of widespread historical move-
ments at the time, Porshnev argues. This is still so even though Asia
did not interfere with Europe as much as previously. If China and
India had not been busy with domestic conflict and Persia and
Turkey had not been at war with each other, Muscovy would prob-
ably have felt more pressure on its southern and eastern frontiers and
would therefore have been unable to devote its energies to the infil-
tration of Siberia and to the struggle with European rivals, princi-
pally the Crimean Tatars and the Poles. Towards the end of the
century, relations with China became direct as Russians and Chinese
came into confrontation in the Amur Valley.
Porshnev makes out a trenchant, perhaps over-assertive case. We
cannot enter here into further discussion of his view of the Thirty
Years War and its setting; suffice it to add that the eastern perimeters
of European warfare at this time were described quite accurately by
the Scottish and other mercenaries who were often to be found in the
Russian service as well as in the Polish and Swedish service. The cost
of hiring them to fight Central European foes as well as to maintain
the fortified lines such as Belgorod against the Crimean Tatars added
to the continual financial worries of the tsarist government. And so
the slender resources of the Russian people had to be squeezed
beyond endurance, and centrifugal tendencies, whether exhibited by
runaway peasants or independent boyars, had to be ruthlessly
crushed. In such a manner, Russian absolutism began to take shape
in fundamental conformity with the Europeanwide movement de-
scribed by E. N. Williams in the following manner:
Absolute monarchy arose out ofthe need for internal and external
security which made a standing army as a royal monopoly essen-
tial. This army required higher revenues; the revenues required
economic growth; they all required the formation of a royal
bureaucracy to eliminate, or push aside, the manifestations of the
corporate state. 25
Of course, Russian conformity was not rigid. The military revo-

lution did not strike exactly as it did elsewhere, and it would be wrong
to draw too close a parallel between, say, the rise of the middle ser-
vice class and that of the English gentry, itself a controversial enough
subject for debate. 26 Economic growth was held back by geo-
graphical circumstances and closely controlled by the tsarist stateY
The social system lacked the legal complexity of most of its counter-
parts, although parallels have been suggested with Spain and even
with France. 28 But the essential integration of Europe was perhaps
most clearly revealed when in 1648, under the great strains brought
about by the Thirty Years War and its ramifications, states from one
end of the continent to the other experienced civil disturbances of
great magnitude.
Tension had been building up in Muscovy for some time before
revolt broke out in 1648, and the last years of the reign of the first
Romanov were disturbed ones. When the sixteen-year-old Alexis
succeeded his father in 1645, the economic and social problems were
compounded by a grain shortage and cattle plague. In such difficult
times, the young tsar leaned heavily for support on the boyar Boris
Morozov, his tutor.
The new government soon set about the fundamental task of bal-
ancing the budget and working out a stable financial system. To
carry out the first aim, it tried to reduce expenditure by dismissing
some officials and cutting the pay of others. Such a move obviously
alienated many of the government's servants. To achieve the second
aim, an indirect group of taxes was introduced in place of the direct.
Of particular importance was the salt tax introduced in 1646. 29 This
was so unpopular generally that it had to be withdrawn in February
1648. But discontent was not stilled, and flared up in a more virulent
form in the summer of that year.
According to a Swedish report from Moscow, Alexis was return-
ing to the capital from a visit to a monastery on I June 1648, when
'the ordinary people started to complain as they had often done
before about injustices and the violence which was being inflicted
upon them'. But the tsar would not receive their petition and his en-
tourage started to beat the people with their knouts. The people
responded by throwing stones at the boyars. Fifteen or sixteen of the
insurgents who persisted in trying to petition the tsar were thrown
into prison. On 2 June, as the tsar was walking in a religious proces-
sion, he was again accosted by the people asking for the release of
those who had been arrested and for the surrender of their chief tor-
mentors. Neither the tsar nor the patriarch could pacify the crowd,
and the streltsy (musketeers) grew restless enough to join in the sack-
ing of Morozov's house and the killing of an unpopular official. On 3
June fires broke out throughout Moscow and another unpopular
official was handed over to the crowd to be killed. Before he died, this
official denounced Morozov, and more fires started by the favour-
ite's servants could not deter the crowd from demanding his life, too.
The tsar protested that it would be better to kill him rather than
Morozov, and the patriarch also came to the favourite's defence.
Finally the crowd agreed to spare Morozov's life as long as he was
dismissed and sent into exile.
The disturbances continued, and on 5 June Morozov's brother-in-
law had his head cut off. The tsar ordered the streltsy to be given their
back pay and on 6 June the tsarina distributed presents among the
crowd. But other military groups then started to demand their pay
arrears, and the crowd remained restless. Finally on 12 June Moro-
zov went into exile, after a petition of 10 June in favour of this move
came from some of the nobles and merchants, along with a request
for the Zemsky Sobor to be summoned. Although the Swedish report
refers to further troubles in August and October, the June days were
the most important period ofthe revolt in Moscow. 30
But the capital was not alone; other towns throughout Muscovy
experienced violence in 1648. Siberia and the north-east were affec-
ted, so were the centre and the south. The last of these regions was
probably the most worrying to the government since it was adjacent
to the Ukraine, which was itself in revolt against Polish domination
under the leadership of Bogdan Khmelnitsky. It is by no means im-
possible that some of the Ukrainian rebelliousness percolated to
Moscow; almost certainly it spread to such southern towns as Bolk-
hov and Bobriki. Moreover, the social composition of the revolts in
these towns was wider than in Moscow, including not only streltsy
but also Cossacks and other servicemen. The disturbances did not
close with the year 1648 but broke out again in Moscow in early 1649,
albeit on a minor scale. And then in 1650 there were further revolts,
not so much in Moscow as in Pskov and Novgorod. 31
Having given a brief outline of Muscovy's 'contemporaneous
revolution', we must now go on to analyse it, first from the point of
view of the tsar and his entourage and second from that of the 'revo-
lutionaries', discussing their social composition and their ideology.
After that, we should consider the Zemsky Sobor and the V/ozhenie,
or Code of Laws, that it produced. Only then can we be in a position

to estimate the extent of Muscovy's conformity to the pattern of the
'civil war' aspects of the 'general crisis'.
S. F. Platonov says that 'Tsar Alexis took a very active part in the
discussions with the crowd.'32 While some of his other adherents
were executed, for example, he successfully pleaded for the life of
Morozov. The tsar swore that Morozov would be sent into exile and
perhaps promised an amnesty to the insurgents at the same time. If
the promise of amnesty was given, it was later broken. As far as the
exile of Morozov was concerned, it was put into effect, but soon res-
cinded. To arrange Morozov's return, the streltsy had to be bribed to
make a 'popular request' to this end, since the tsar's oath could only
officially be broken in such a manner. In other words, as
S. V. Bakhrushin puts it:
In state conditions alien to all constitutional juridical forms, there

was created a unique reciprocal relationship of the supreme power
and the people, in which was possible a formal agreement between
the tsar and his subjects reinforced by an oath. Thus peculiarly was
composed the political life of Mmicow .33
Of course, the tsar must not be looked at as a figure aloof from

Muscovite society. His place was largely defined by his entourage, to
which attention must now be drawn. At the centre stands Boris Ivan-
ovich Morozov, about whom Alexis wrote in 1650: 'He is our boyar,
who as our tutor left his home and his friends and has been with us
unceasingly and has served us and taken jealous care of our royal
health.'34 Such a significant position, which Morozov had occupied
since the accession of Alexis and before, was strengthened in 1648 by
his marriage to the tsarina's sister. More generally, Morozov con-
structed around himself a network of patronage, most of the mem-
bers of which were 'new men' who had not been prominent during
Michael's reign. Such an arrangement helped to make Morozov
appear 'democratic', at least to the newer nobility. Samuel Collins,
the tsar's English doctor, wrote of Morozov: 'He draws envious eyes
from the ancient nobility, whom he daily makes to decline, and
brings in creatures of his own.'3' During the revolt, the opposition to
him could not attract support because of its exclusivist economic and
social policies, and Morozov was able to re-establish his position in
Moscow without difficulty after his return from exile, achieving the
reputation of the defender of the noble service class against the feu-
dal aristocracy.
Not that the revolt of 1648 was the affair of the nobility alone, as
the above narrative has already shown and as will now become more
apparent as we turn to make some social analysis of the insurgents.
For S. V. Bakhrushin the revolt was 'a movement of the middle
strata of the town population, of the taxpaying burghers, joined by
the streltsy and the town nobility' .36 Although the Muscovite poor
certainly participated in the revolt, and possibly even initiated it, its
direction and development appear to have come from the craftsmen
and traders of the capital, particularly the traders, who were seeking
independence from the tight controls of the administration and the
acquisition of a monopoly of trade. Nevertheless the bourgeoisie was
by no means a solid class, for there was tension between its lower and
upper strata, and between the groups living in Moscow and other
towns.
The streltsy were essentially petty bourgeois in social origin,
craftsmen and shopkeepers. Often joining up because of poverty,
they were preoccupied with pay and showed resentment against the
leaders who appeared to be responsible for pay arrears, such as
Morozov who was head of the Streltsy Chancellery. As armed men,
the streltsy obviously played a most important part in the events of
June 1648. Once the government won them over with presents and
promises, the real strength went out of the uprising. In towns other
than Moscow, the streltsy were often joined by the Cossacks, who
would be worried about encroachments on their liberty as well as pay
arrears.
Just as the bourgeoisie was divided into different strata and
groups, so was the nobility. While the leading nobles, old and new,
struggled for power, the middle and lower ranking members of the
service class took the opportunity presented by the revolt to voice
their concerns about money and land payment. Many provincial
nobles coming to the capital contributed to the petitions being pre-
sented to the tsar and added their voices to the town nobility's de-
mand for the convocation of the Zemsky Sobor.
Soviet historians are not entirely happy with the social analysis of
the insurgents carried out by Bakhrushin which has largely been fol-
lowed here. M. N. Tikhomirov, for example, argues that the crowd
played an important part throughout, although he agrees with Bakh-
rushin that the revolt was in the end taken over by the bourgeois and
noble dissidents who, on 10 June, insisted on the exile of Morozov
and the convocation ofthe Zemsky Sobor. The victorious nobles and
merchants agreed at the Zemsky Sobor on the consolidation of their
own power and privileges, at the comparative expense of their lesser
brethren and to the ruin of the poor townsmen and rural inhabitants.
The threat of Crimean Tatar incursions and the spread of trouble
from the Ukraine were added incentives for the solidarity of the lead-
ing members ofsociety.37
The principal features of the social composition of the revolt of

1648 might stand out more clearly after an examination of its ideo-
logy and of the Code of 1649. The ideology did not originate from
theoretical or literary sources but from the experience of the partici-
pants. The first insurgents believed that their action was justified by
its collective nature and that those who were killed were criminals
since they had acted in a manner diametrically opposed to the com-
mon good. The further expression of their grievances took the form
of petitions. Addressed to the tsar, these petitions did not blame him,
adding to the traditional 'naIve monarchism' allowances for the
youth and inexperience of Alexis. Morozov was the principal target
of complaint. Not only had he been guilty of maladministration and
misappropriation of money, he had also attempted to involve M us-
covy in a war with Sweden 'in order to be in a secure position to be
able to torture the insurgents', or to give up Pskov to the Swedes
without a fight, or even worse 'to ally himself with foreigners to take
Pskov' and then 'to move with the foreigners from Pskov against
Novgorod, and from Novgorod against MoSCOW'.38 When Morozov
in particular was not the primary target of attack, the 'boyars' in gen-
eral were. By 'boyars' the insurgents meant the upper nobility, whom
they hoped the tsar would keep in order, both as landowners and as
government agents. The petitions also complained about the bureau-
cracy as a whole, the bribes and the favouritism with which it seemed
to be riddled. They requested that both civil servants and police
should be made strictly accountable to the tsar. A fourth object of the
complaints of the insurgents were the 'guests' and other top mer-
chants. Like the leading nobles, these were unpopular in two capaci-
ties: as commercial entrepreneurs with special privileges, and as
government agents used mainly for fiscal purposes, as collectors of
the salt and vodka taxes. Often as well as these four complaints
there were more local grievances, most marked perhaps in the
Pskov and Novgorod disturbances of 1650, where the traditions of
self-government were strong. 39
The complaints of the first insurgents of 1648 did not take suf-
ficient account of the tensions within the noble and merchant
classes which became more apparent as members of these classes
joined in. The nobles often argued about promotion in service and
boundaries between their estates, and the lower members of the
class were jealous of the privileges of the upper members. Similarly
the less favoured merchants revealed their envy of the more fa-
voured, and disputed possession of valuable government contracts
and leases. These intra-class tensions were clearly apparent in, and
resolved by, the decisions of the Zemsky Sobor, to which we must
now turn.
The Zemsky Sobor was composed of representatives elected prin-
cipally by the nobility and the bourgeoisie. From a number of
sources, Byzantine, Lithuanian and Muscovite, the Assembly pro-
duced the Ulozhenie or Code of 1649, which consisted of25 chapters
and 967 clauses. Although the foreword of the Code stated that it
aimed at justice for all, the interests of the mass of the people were if
anything retarded rather than advanced. Serfdom was more
entrenched, with the fiscal and judicial grasp of the state on the
peasants being tightened. Stricter laws against runaway peasants sat-
isfied the wishes of the nobility, who were also allowed to turn the
estates won by service into their hereditary property. In fact, the way
of the world being what it was, the leading nobles were assisted more
than their junior colleagues. Much the same might be said about the
smaller number of clauses that dealt with the bourgeoisie, even
though a more equitable distribution of urban taxes was achieved. In
the end, then, far from being weakened, the position of the senior
members of the service nobility and bourgeoisie was strengthened.
And thus it was that a popular movement against the oppression
of the upper classes ended in an assembly which not only reinforced
their position but also solidified their connection with tsarism, thus
entrenching absolutism. Although Morozov was soon back in power
from exile, it would nevertheless be wrong to say that the crisis of
1648-50 made no significant impact on the evolution of Muscovy.
The process of the formation of absolutism was undoubtedly acceler-
ated in the positive manner just described and in the negative sense
that the strength of the old independent aristocracy suffered a great
blow. A firm foundation was being laid for the construction of the
edifice of the Russian Empire to be completed by Peter the Great. 40
We must now turn to the difficult question of the degree of connec-
tion between the Muscovite revolts on the one hand and the contem-
poraneous civil disturbances in other parts of Europe. Rather than
attempting any broad comparative sweeps at the outset, we are per-
haps on safer ground if we first look at the observations and activities
of contemporaries. For their part, the Russians were reasonably well
informed about developments in the rest of the continent. They
acquired information from commercial, diplomatic and military
visitors and sent missions of various kinds to the countries of Central
and Western Europe. Several Muscovite ambassadors visited Eng-
land, most notably G. S. Dokhturov, who arrived in London in
August 1645 to bring the news of Michael's death and the accession
of Alexis, and who left a year later taking with him some clear im-
pressions of the troubles being experienced by the English and the
Scots. Unfortunately for Dokhturov, he was not able to read later
historiography on the subject and therefore acquired a rather simple
view of the English Revolution. To him, the clash between the king
and the parliament arose from the tendency of Charles towards arbi-
trary government and Popery, with commercial people supporting
the parliament while the nobility was for the king. However, from
Dokhturov and other Muscovite visitors, as well as from a number of
translations, at least a small number of Russians had a clear if not
completely accurate picture of the English Revolution. 41
Dokhturov himself was involved in the Pskov revolt of 1650 and
might have had something to do with the reported remark of another
Muscovite official concerning this rebellion to the effect that God
was permitting even greater ones, in particular in England and
TurkeyY Before this, Alexis himself had not been won from his
Stuart affiliation by the parliamentarian offers that Dokhturov
brought back with him; on the contrary, he had received emissaries
from the imprisoned Charles I with kindness. At the same time, he
punished the English merchants in Moscow by withdrawing their
privileges, and when he heard of the execution of Charles he expelled
them altogether from Moscow to Archangel, declaring:
At the request of your sovereign, King Charles, and because of our

brotherly love and friendship towards him, you were allowed to
trade with us by virtue ofletters of commerce, but it has been made
known to us that you English have done a great wickedness by kill-
ing your sovereign, King Charles, for which evil deed you cannot
be suffered to remain in the realm of Muscovy .43
And then in 1650 there was issued from the Low Countries 'A Declar-
ation of His Imperia/l Majestie, The most High and Mighty Potentate
Alexea, Emperor of Russia and Great-Duke of Muscovia, protesting
against the murder of Charles 1'. In this pamphlet, Alexis calls upon
all Christian princes to come to a general diet in Antwerp on 10
April 1650 to make arrangements for a holy war against the regi-
cides. Scholars are agreed that the pamphlet was a forgery done by
Royalist sympathisers, one of them, Z. I. Roginsky, putting for-
ward the interesting view that it was the work of Lord Culpepper,
who returned to France via Holland from Moscow in 1650 after a
mission there on behalf of Charles 11.44
Throughout the 1650s the Stuarts attempted to retain the sym-
pathy of the Romanovs that had first been established in the reigns
of James I and Charles I, when English merchants had lent money
to Michael and an English ambassador had interceded with Gus-
tavus Adolphus to press the claims of Muscovy to Novgorod and
other parts of the north-west. For his part, Cromwell was interested
in the denouement of the revolt of the Ukraine against Poland, in
the development of a vigorous Baltic policy and the acquisition of
the sympathy of the Muscovites. Much relevant evidence is to be
found in the papers of John Thurloe. To take just one example which
included both Royalists and Roundheads, we have the following
letter of intelligence from the Hague at the beginning of 1655:
The resident for the king of Poland here is to go for England on the
behalf of the said king, to compliment and congratulate the lord
protector; but in effect to instigate the lord protector against the
Muscovites, to the end that by a fleet he cause him to visit Arch-
angel, and revenge the English nation, whom the great duke of
Muscovy has banished, upon the request and desire of Lord Cul-
pepper, agent on the behalf ofthe king of Scotland.
If Cromwell swallowed this suggestion, the letter of intelligence said,

the real gainers would be the Dutch and the French, and the king of
the Scots whom the Polish king was anxious to help. In the circum-
stances it was hardly surprising that Cromwell did not send an
English fleet of intervention to Archangel. 4'
Many more examples could be given of the interconnection be-
tween Muscovy and the rest of Europe in the first half of the seven-
teenth century and its critical middle, but perhaps enough has been
given to support our argument, which will now briefly be recap-
itulated. To return to the thesis outlined at the beginning (and to
some of Christopher Hill's terminology), the study of the 'general
crisis' becomes more of a 'laboratory test' if Eastern Europe is
brought into the field of consideration as well as the west and centre
of the continent. From the European point of view, the English was
by far the most widely significant of the 'contemporaneous revol-
utions', even if it, like the others, was partly, even largely, brought
about by circumstances peculiar to one country. But might not the
English Revolution be more profoundly appreciated if its origins,
course and consequences, as well as its early aspirations for the
'world's happiness',46 are looked at in the broader perspective? Cer-
tainly such an approach contributes to a surer comprehension of the
process by which Muscovy became transformed into the Russian
Empire, a process brought forward by the events of 1648-50 and
therefore placing Muscovy with France and Sweden in a 'half-way
house'. Of course, this is not to deny that the large size and frontier
situation of Muscovy gave it a peculiar position in Europe and in re-
lation to other continents, particularly Asia. Of course, there are dif-
ferences in a society where serfdom was being established at the same
time as it was being dismantled elsewhere. But serfdom is more com-
pletely understood if viewed at least partly as a response to the
comparative remoteness of Central and Eastern Europe from the

major commercial routes and entrepots of the period, at least partly
as a counterpart to the exploitation of negro slaves and wage slaves in
the overseas colonial regions and the Western European metropolis
respectively.47
Ifnot fatal, crisis'" is followed by resolution. 4' Relatively speaking,
seventeenth-century Europe conformed to this norm, although it
might be more accurate to say that life and death gave way to touch
and go. After all, England might no longer be rent by civil war or
regicide but the fear of the renewal of domestic hostilities was con-
stant and successive monarchs could by no means always sleep com-
pletely peacefully in their beds. The Restoration of 1660 was
accompanied by the public disembowelling of Vane and Harrison
and the persecution of sectaries. In the last years of the reign of
Charles II, Whigs and dissenters were subject to legal terror, with the
Rye House Plot of 1683 leading to some executions and much impris-
onment. At the accession of James II in 1685, the invasion of Scot-
land by the Earl of Argyll and of south-west England by Monmouth
led to more alarm and still more repression. There was peace but
little calm until the removal of James and the arrival of William in
1688, and the matter of the throne had to be settled again in Ireland
at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. Even then, the exiled Stuarts were
not finished. And more local state violence was endemic throughout
the period down to the level of frequent hangings of members of the
lower orders for the stealing of sheep and other offences deemed
capital. 'A great revolution' in political practice, in economic enter-
prise and intellectual activity had taken place - 'Absolute monarchy
on the French model was never again possible. 'so This cannot be
forgotten or denied, but it would be a further hundred years or more
before the dust had finally settled and the new order revealed in suf-
ficient clarity, before, to revert to our former metaphor, the effects
of the crisis were transmitted to the full.
If we turn to look at one of Christopher Hill's 'half-way houses'-
France - we may observe an absolutist state for the time being
stabilised, but certainly not a society where insurgence was a
stranger. Suffice it to mention the revocation of the Edict of Nantes
in 1685 and the ensuing revolt of the Camisards, the great famines of
1693-4 and 1709-10 and the attendant unrest. Such is even more the
case with the 'half-way house' that is the focus of our special atten-
tion - the nascent Russian Empire. Here perhaps we may not even
speak of the stabilisation of an absolutist state, attributing at least
the completion of the process to Peter the Great and his collab-
orators. For, while there was no repetition of the fissiparous Time of
Troubles or fear of it quite as great as with the Moscow Revolt of
1648 and the accompaniments to it - with the revolts in other towns
and most especially the widespread disturbance. in the Ukraine -
opposition to absolutism continued to make itself keenly felt as
social groups in both town and countryside demonstrated their
reluctance to be screwed down into subjection by the tsars and their
upper-class allies. Moscow ignited again in 1662, when worn down
by disease and taxation, and especially by a debasement of the coin-
age from silver to copper, the people ran riot and laid hands on the
tsar himself. Alexis was able to extricate himself by an oath which he
soon broke, and thousands were made to pay for their temerity with
their lives, although those who survived were given the satisfaction of
seeing the purity of the coinage restored. The principal adherents of
tsarism in 1662, the streltsy turned against their royal masters again
in 1682 and 1698, incensed by pay arrears and inspired by Old Belief.
They were finally suppressed in a blood bath in which Peter the Great
appointed himself superintendent. Away from the towns by far the
most formidablethreat to the stability of the government was posed
by the 'peasant war' under the leadership of Stepan or Stenka Razin.
This huge upheaval was brought about by circumstances similar to
those which caused the revolts in the towns. Basically, as before, the
root of the trouble was to be found in the necessity for the govern-
ment to defend itself against internal and external enemies. Calls on
the peasantry for taxes as well as for military and labour services
were answered with increasing reluctance and growing frustration.
The further entrenchment of serfdom after the Code of 1649, and the
spread of the institution into the Volga and other regions, met with
resentment, or at best smouldering acquiescence. Even when the
exactions of the government and the landlords were just about toler-
able, famine, epidemic or cattle plague could take the patience of the
people up to or beyond breaking point. The 'safety valve' of flight
was not as open as before as the absolutist power of tsarism grew
stronger and spread. This last circumstance was particularly irritat-
ing to the Cossacks, who provided the leadership of the 'peasant war'
of 1670-1 as they did for its successors. Razin himself first made a
name as a bold freebooter along the Caspian Sea. Then in the
summer of 1670, he led a band of Cossacks and an ever-increasing
number of peasants against Rus, that is Moscow, and not so much
against the tsar as evil advisers. Initial success was followed by failure
and retreat after an unhappy experience at the hands of a formidable
detachment of the regular army. Razin's attempt to revive the en-
thusiasm of his surviving followers and to gain new support from
among the Cossacks did not succeed, and he was taken by the Cos-
sacks loyal to the government and handed over to it, then executed in
Moscow in the summer of 1671. Razin was dead, but his name lived
on in the legends and songs of the Cossacks and peasants.

At the beginning of 1672 the victory over Razin was celebrated and
those who had fallen to help bring it about were commemorated in
services in Moscow. Charles II, ever mindful of the execution of his
father and of the condemnation of the deed by Tsar Alexis, sent con-
gratulations to his Russian brother on the suppression of the revolt,
and unalloyed relief was felt throughout Europe, except perhaps in
Poland, Sweden and Turkey where the continuance of the Muscovite
difficulties could have been used as an excuse for intervention,
although there was some sympathy from this quarter too. Further
east, the Shah of Persia, whose own subjects had suffered from the
depredations of Razin in the Caspian, also sent his congratulations.
Consolidating their position along fortified lines to the south and
east of Moscow, the Russians were now able to probe more deeply
into central Asia, giving the Shah of Persia cause no doubt to con-
sider eating at least some of his words, into Siberia, making more ex-
plorations and gathering more furs, and as far as China, where
commercial possibilities seemed to be great. For the Manchu
dynasty, which itself had recently been experiencing huge internal
troubles, a Russian presence in the Amur Valley was not welcome,
and local muscle was used to persuade the Russians to accept the not
particularly favourable conditions of the Treaty of Nerchinsk in
1689.~1
Thus, towards the end of the seventeenth century, the Romanov
dynasty and its adherents were succeeding in maintaining and
extending their grasp over the nascent empire after the conquest of a
series of internal enemies and at least an adequate performance
against foes from without. The administration was expanding to new
demands and adjusting to them, and society was taking on a new and
firmer shape, with the nobility coalescing at the top and the serfs be-
coming more subject to its control at the bottom. Economic, diplo-
matic and cultural contacts from Western Europe to China were
integrating Russia completely with the rest of Eurasia, if not yet,
except indirectly, with the whole world. Peter the Great was thus en-
abled to carry out his famous reforms and further expansion with the
way well prepared.
2 The Democratic Revolution of the
Eighteenth Century
Western historians still tend to exclude Russia from their view of the
great movement of the time that has come to be known as the eight-
eenth-century revolution. Two of them, Godechot and Palmer,
expounded in 1955 their concept of an Atlllntic revolution, including
the American and French upheavals and their impact throughout the
Western world, but giving very little attention to Europe's eastern ex-
tremity.! While Godechot does not appear to have modified his in-
terpretation since 1955,2 Palmer has moved considerably from the
position set out then at the Tenth International Congress of His-
torians. In the second volume of his political history of Europe and
America, 1760-1800, generally entitled The Age of the Democratic
Revolution, Palmer poses the question whether discords during the
reigns of Catherine II and Paul I 'in any way resembled those of Cen-
tral and Western Europe, and whether a knowledge of the European
Enlightenment and the French Revolution acted as a new cause of
dissatisfaction, and contributed to a clearer formulation of goals.
The best answer seems to be a cautious and indefinite affirmative.'3
Not intended to be less cautious, this chapter seeks to make that af-
firmative more definite, and to argue for the positive extension of
the idea of an Atlantic revolution to include the Baltic and the hin-
terland. To do this, it will range thematically somewhat more widely
than Godechot and Palmer, placing considerable emphasis on
economic and social development as well as on political, diplomatic
and cultural history.
Although Godechot and Palmer do not give much attention to the
economic aspect of European development in the second half of the
eighteenth century, their argument is that Russia was basically too
backward for it to be considered along with those participating in
the Atlantic market. Certainly Russia was in some respects back-
ward; this was recognised by Catherine II and her advisers at the be-
ginning of her reign. Sweden, Denmark, Prussia, most German
states, Switzerland, England and France all demonstrated economic

development to such an extent that the eighteenth might be called the
economic century. So said the foreword to the first number of the
'Works of the Free Economic Society for the Encouragement of
Agriculture and Good Husbandry,' published under the imperial
patronage in St Petersburg in 1765. In various ways the Works were
to help Russia catch up, declared their editor.4 But the gap between
Russia and the others needs to be measured. How far ahead of
Catherine's Russia was, to take the most relevant example, the
France of Louis XVI?
In answer to this question, E. V.Tarle put forward in 1910 the con-
tention that France was not even clearly ahead.' Even though Tarle's
patriotism sometimes ran away with him, the impressive evidence
that he made use of compels us to give at least some serious attention
to an assertion that might at first glance seem ludicrous. Tarle argued
that the general acceptance in the Western world of Russia's historic
backwardness was the result of the growth of Russophobia in the
nineteenth century and of the circumstance that Russia did indeed
fall far behind the industrialising nations after the French Revol-
ution. However, he continued, by no means all contemporary
foreigners writing about Russian trade and industry at the end of the
eighteenth century considered Russia an economically backward
country.6 Of course, such sources have to be treated with great care.
As one ofthem himself says:
It is rare that men maintain ajuste milieu in the praise or blame of

their fellow creatures. This can certainly be seen in the judgements
that one hears held on the Russians. Some, filled with the preju-
dices of their fathers, regard the Russians as barbarians, and pity
the misfortune of those who are obliged to go to a country that
they believe to be inhabited by savages. Others, falling into the
opposite excess, can only see in Russia a land of Cockaigne, an
Eldorado, the abode of felicity, the home of the most perfect wis-
dom and justice, the theatre of marvels. Both let themselves be
led astray by vulgar rumours which continually contradict each
other, and by their own imagination.'
Although Catherine's desire for favourable pUblicity became noto-

rious, and although some of the excesses complained of by Burja,
the German writer of the above remarks, were undoubtedly the
result of her patronage, he himself pointed out that the imperial
economy benefited from freedom of internal trade and the absence of
guilds. Tarle, after noting this observation and commenting that
Burja published his impressions four years before the French
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 25
Revolution,which aimed at, among other things, emancipation
from guilds and internal customs, went on to declare:
Let us note by the way that even the revolution by no means im-
mediately abolished the guilds; as far as internal customs are con-
cerned, even their partial reduction in the course of the actual
revolution aroused the most stormy enthusiasm. For example, it is
enough to recall the exultation of the people of Paris, when in the
spring of 1791, the authorities abolished the duty paid for the
import of comestibles through the walls of the capital. Guilds also
were abolished on 2 March 1791, i.e. two years after the beginning
of the revolution. When Burja wrote his book, all educated people
following politics, particularly Frenchmen, had a vivid memory of
the attempt of Turgot to abolish the tyranny of the guilds and to
free the grain trade from the obstructions in its path; they also
remembered the resolute opposition of the French court to the
plans of Turgot, his fall and the downfall of all his undertakings.
No wonder that Burja paid close attention to the circumstances
that the ideals ofTurgot (at least in some respects) were a living re-
ality.I
Tarle failed to make the essential point that guilds had never taken
strong root in Russia and that restrictions on internal trade had
never been as strict there as in France. Nevertheless, it is remarkable
that a government associated with close bureaucratic control had
abolished internal customs in the 1750s, and that this abolition
should be in response to pressure exerted by the growth of an all-
Russian market in grains and other items ofproduction. 9 Catherine's
economic policy was very liberal in comparison with that of Louis
XVI, including as it did the removal of the remnants of guild re-
straints on industry, and again must be seen at least partly as a con-
cession to strains put on the feudal economy.10 Of course there still
existed in Russia large pockets of a closed natural economy, but a
backward and more advanced economic system existing side by side
could be found in almost every country in Europe towards the end of
the eighteenth century. F. Crouzet has written of France at this time
that 'the sector of quasi-autarchic subsistence remained considerable
and was dominant in vast regions, acting as a brake on the progress
of the economy as a whole'.l1
Continuing his argument, Tarle goes on to make a comparison be-
tween the external trade of France and Russia in the revolutionary
age. Again he quotes a contemporary, LeClerc, who wrote that 'the
balance of commerce is always advantageous to the Empire. The
reason for this is palpable: the merchandise which is exported from

Russia is of prime necessity for all the nations of Europe; most of that
which is imported into Russia ... can only be consumed by a very
small portion of the nation.'12 In other words, Russia imported
luxury goods and exported items of more basic value. Making use of
documents from the French national archives and eight-
eenth-century statisticians, Tarle elaborates this point with respect to
France, adding that since France was still mercantilist in outlook, the
fact that her balance of trade with Russia was unfavourable indi-
cated the empire's indispensability to her as a trading partner. Ac-
cording to the figures provided by Tarle, Russia was exporting more
to France in the 1780s than Prussia or Sweden, and importing less
from France than she exported to her .13 The Franco-Russian Treaty
of 1786, France vainly hoped, would reverse the balance and provide
France with, among other materials, a greater supply of timber and
other naval stores, the growing shortage of which had been of great
concern to the French government throughout the eighteenth cen-
tury.14
Of course France's chief rival, Great Britain, had a corner in this
market for most of the century, and made great efforts to retain it. As
Albion says of British Baltic policy in general, 'it was chiefly a matter
of keeping the sea open at all costs, in order to ensure a supply of
naval materials. This policy was taken so seriously that on several oc-
casions English fleets forced their way into the Baltic to protect the
supply.''' In this and other ways, Russia's trade in particular was of
great importance to Britain, as Mr Foster, the agent for the Russia
Company, was able to argue plausibly at the bar of the House of
Commons on 5 May 1774. Foster declared:
The articles we bring from Russia, our hemp, our iron, our flax,
are so indispensably necessary to us for every purpose of agricul-
ture and of commerce, that had we no export trade, it would be
very expedient we should attentively cultivate the fri~ship of
Russia on account of our important trade only ... without them
our navy, our commerce, our agriculture, are at end; without
them, where would be our wealth, where our naval honours? ...
You will never, Sir, think that trade a prejudicial one, which
brings home the materials, without which commerce could
neither be undertaken nor protected. 16
According to the figures provided by Marshall, which Palmer and

Godechot used to support their concept of an Atlantic revolution,
during most years from 1763 to 1794 Great Britain imported from
Russia goods of a greater value than from anywhere else on the
continent, in fact from everywhere except the West Indies or the
East Indies. 17 While the future workshop of the world already had to
export or die, and markets were already absolutely necessary, the
workshop could not function without imported raw materials or sell
its products without protection from the navy.
Not that all imports from Russia were raw materials or naval
stores. The greatest iron producer in the world in the late eighteenth
century, Russia exported more of this metal to Great Britain than to
any other country .18 Her linen exports to Britain, albeit of poor qual-
ity, were, according to Mr Foster at least, chiefly used by the poor,
and 'The want of them could not be supplied by our home manufac-
tures. '19 In these two sectors, metals and textiles, Russia was experi-
encing in the reign of Catherine something like the early stages of
industrial revolution. Soviet historians, who have given the subject
much attention, argue among themselves about the beginnings of
this revolution, but most appear to place them about the middle of
the eighteenth century.20
Tarle argued that Russia's industry, like her trade, was not back-
ward in comparison with that of France during the reign of Cathe-
rine II. Again he quoted contemporaries in support of his
contention. Von Storch, for example, wrote in the 1790s that in
Russia, 'A great number of new factories and manufactures have
arisen, of which many are flourishing excellently, the spirit of indus-
try has spread everywhere in the most remote parts of the huge
state.'21 Tarle also supported his view that Russian industry was on a
par with the French or even in advance of it by a detailed comparison
of numbers of factories and wOTkmen. He pointed out, too, that
while French industry was subsidised and protected at least down to
the days of the Directory, Russian industry was booming relatively
unaided. If Russian workmen still retained a close link with the land,
said Tarle, so did the French and others throughout Europe, except
perhaps in some parts of Britain, the most advanced industrial power
of the time. 22
Economically speaking, then, Russian backwardness does not
appear very great when placed in a general European context, and
compared in particular with that of France. Not only this; as indi-
cated above, Russia was dependent on her trading partners in
Europe mostly for luxury goods. If need be, she could be self-reliant
to an extent probably greater than any other country on the conti-
nent. Moreover, if the eighteenth-century revolution was intimately
connected with the early stages of industrial revolution, as many
would agree, Russia was at an economic stage of development suf-
ficiently advanced for her to be included in any comprehensive con-
sideration of such a connection. To quote a more recent writer than
Tarle, Roger Portal:
The Russia of Catherine II, by virtue of the number of its factories

and workshops, the volume ofits production and the part it played
in European trade, took its place among the great economic
powers of the eighteenth century. 23
But, it will no doubt be asked, if Russia was not so backward in the

reign of Catherine II, where was her bourgeoisie? Why was serfdom
still so deeply entrenched in the empire? In answer to these questions,
the development there of a considerable degree of social mobility
must be noted. Along with the decline of the subsistence economy
went an increase in the stratification of the peasantry, and the top
stratum played the part of an unofficial, if rudimentary, bourgeoisie.
Several contributors to the 'Works of the Free Economic Society'
complained of the threat to agriculture posed by the movement of the
peasants from the rural areas to the towns and factories. One of them
declared that the number of people in agriculture was half what it
had previously been.24 Moreover, even Russia's official social system
bears comparison with that of other European states. Before the out-
break of the French Revolution, town population was small and
town government in chains throughout the continent. 25 The pea-
santry was by far the largest class in France and other Western states,
and if it was not often shackled by serfdom, feudal restrictions and
impositions were still strong enough for the Western situation at
least to bear comparison with that obtaining in the East. 26 Of course
such an evaluation would probably reveal that Russia did possess
peculiar socio-economic features, such as, for example, the import-
ant part played in industry by the nobility, although even here West
and East might be seen to be more similar to each other than has
often been supposed. 27
Certainly Russia cannot be dismissed from the society of eight-
eenth-century Europe by a bare reference to serfdom, or to the pre-
dominance of Gutsherrschaft in the East and Grundherrschaft in the
West. If the attempt is to be made to look at the age in which the
French Revolution occurred as an economic and social entity, there
is at least as much case for excluding the United States as for keeping
out Russia. Where is American feudalism, an American aristocracy?
Rather than excluding either Russia or the United States from the
revolutionary era, it is surely better to include them both as frontier
variations of the central theme, and to make any exceptions on a
firmer basis than that of an Atlantic civilisation.
It is the same with politics, diplomacy and the Enlightenment.
Russia has probably as often been excluded from Europe on account
of her autocracy as for her serfdom. Again such an assertion is based
on form rather than content. Constitutionally more of an absolute
monarchy than France and many other European states, Russian
government was in fact like them subject to social checks. Although
professional bureaucrats from the lower classes were increasingly to
be found in the administration, most of the important decisions there
and in the armed forces were taken by hereditary nobles. It was by no
means a rare occurrence for Russian nobles to serve in both the mili-
tary and civil branches of service. It would be quite possible for a
noble who had led a regiment to head a college or lead a diplomatic
mission, while drawing an additional income from both agriculture
and industry. Hence, there was a very real aristocratic dominance of
the empire, even if the close identity of the aristocracy with the state
made unnecessary the constitutional expression of this basic fact,
even if the defenders of Europe's steppe frontier had little time for
many of the refinements of their Western peers.28
What sense can be made of the period from the Seven Years War,
when Russian troops entered Berlin, to the conclusion of the Napo-
leonic Wars when Tsar Alexander I led his men into Paris, if Russian
diplomatic and military activity is not given close attention? Can the
American Revolution be fully understood if Russia's leadership of
the Armed Neutrality is ignored?29 Can the Fren'1h Revolution be
seen in its proper context if Russia's part in the wars against it be
forgotten?30 The answer to all these questions is sufficiently obvious
for it not to require elaboration here. '
With regard to the Enlightenment, Western historians have given
Russia short shrift. Sometimes, it is true, in their attempt to redress
the balance and to make up for such Western neglect, Soviet his-
torians go too far the other way. For example, discussing a group of
intellectuals who were active in the 1720s and 1730s, one of these his-
torians writes, 'already in the first decades of the eighteenth century
Russia was one of the world centres for the formation of enlight-
enment'.J1 This is an exaggeration, but by no means complete non-
sense. The rest of Europe was far from being entirely ignorant of
Russian cultural attainments at this time. To give a small example,
D. Francisco de Menezes, an intellectual Portuguese nobleman, was
a corresponding member of the St Petersburg Academy of Sciences,
which had been founded in 1725, and published in Lisbon in 1738 the
contents of that Academy's transactions. Menezes living by the
Atlantic belonged to a group not much bigger, possibly no bigger,
than its counterpart at the other end of Europe, and similarly alien-
ated from indigenous society at large. Enlightened cosmopolitans in
Portugal were known as the estrangeirados, as opposed to others
unsullied by new ideas who proudly called themselves 'the chaste
ones'.n Here is an obvious parallel with the bearers of the new cul-
ture as fostered by Peter the Great and his successors on the one
hand, and those adhering to the old ways on the other, a parallel that
could be made in most of the countries separating Portugal from
Russia.
By the second half of the eighteenth century the ideas of the En-
lightenment had penetrated as far as the extremities and lowest social
classes of the Russian Empire. The extent of such penetration is diffi-
cult to measure, and probably not many were affected in Siberia or in
the humbler ranks of the peasantry. Nevertheless there were over
60,000 students in educational institutions by the end of the century,
and probably at least as many more receiving some less formal
schooling. Over 8500 books were published in Russia between 1750
and 1800.33 Such figures are low compared with those for Western
European states,34 but were sufficient for the foundation of a native
intelligentsia, both noble and non-noble. 3' Russians showed great in-
terest in such people as Voltaire, Montesquieu, Diderot and
d'Alembert, and the interest was mutual. 36 Russian savants were in
contact with foreign counterparts from Sweden to America. 37 Cathe-
rine herself must be given credit for her patronage of the arts and sci-
ences and for her encouragement of a free discussion of the great
questions of the day, at least during the first years of her reign. 38 If the
empress became an extreme reactionary and an obscurantist secret
police became more active with the advent of the French Revolution,
do not such developments as these also reveal Russian conformity to
a European pattern?
What about the revolution? Even conceding that at least a prima
facie case has been made out for the extension of the Atlantic
economy and society, its political, diplomatic and cultural entity to
Russia, a critic could still argue that the empire withstood the shock
wave of the eighteenth-century revolution in its more violent aspect
without a tremor, exerting its strength only to help suppress the
revolution at its climactic point in the French Revolutionary and
Napoleonic Wars. Such an argument would be false.
Like other nations in the second half of the eighteenth century,
Russia had its own 'shooting revolution', or rather, two such revol-
utions, both of them abortive, in the 1770s and 1790s. The second of
them, which will be discussed below, had connections both with the
French Revolution and with its domestic predecessor, the Pugachev
Revolt of 1773-5, to which attention must now first be given. This
enjoyed wide support, and shook Catherine, her establishment and
the nobility at large; sympathy for it was evident both in the army
and in the capitals. Consider the following excerpts from the dis-
patches of the most sober and judicious of the foreign diplomats in
Russia at the time of the revolt, Sir Robert Gunning. On 25
February /8 March 1774, he reported that 'though it is kept very
secret, I am assured, that part of the regiment detached by General
Bibikov to attack the rebels, has gone over to them'. Just after the
death of General A.1. Bibikov, which he thought might increase dis-
affection among the soldiers, Gunning wrote on 26 April/6 May: 'It
is positively said, that the regiment commanded by young Prince
Dolgoruky was prevented from desertion, merely by his liberality.'
Concerning the situation in the old capital, Moscow, Gunning com-
municated on 26 August/6 September the information that: 'Several
people continue still to be taken up at that place for treasonable prac-
tices. Eighteen of them have been hanged .... Some of them have
been taken up here', continued Gunning, referring to St Petersburg,
'for drinking Pugachev's health.' Three days later, Gunning wrote
that 'a general dissatisfaction continues to prevail. The Governor of
Moscow was under the necessity about ten days ago of firing upon a
number of the common people who were tumultuously assembled,
and could not be prevailed upon by any other means to disperse. '39
The memoirist Andrei Bolotov perhaps had such circumstances in
mind when he wrote later:
... my hearing was struck by a general rumour which suddenly

spread through the people of all Moscow and which shook me to
the core and made me regret a thousand times that I had sent my
horses away .... everybody began to speak openly about the great
and incredible successes of the miscreant Pugachev. Particularly
that he with his evil band had not only smashed all the military
detachments sent out to suppress him, but had colIected together
almost an army of thoughtless and blind adherents and not only
sacked and destroyed everything and hanged in evil executions alI
the nobles and lords, but also taken, sacked and destroyed Kazan
itself and was already appearing to make directly for Moscow, and
this was confirmed by the danger posed every minute by his ac-
complices .... we were alI convinced that alI the lower orders and
the mob, and particularly all the slaves and our servants, were all
secretly in their hearts, when not openly given over to this mis-
creant, ... and were ready at the least spark to make fire and
flame. 40
Moscow was at the time of the revolt a province consisting of eleven

counties as well as the former capital town, and a closer examination
of developments there should lead to an appraisal of the general
accuracy of the observations of Gunning and Bolotov, and thus to an
evaluation of the extent to which the Pugachev Revolt deserves to be
called a 'peasant war' as opposed to a 'frontier jacquerie', to use two
of the labels applied in recent analysis. 41 We cannot go here into the
whole question of the origins of the Revolt - the dissatisfaction of the
Cossacks and Pugachev's first claim to be Peter III - nor follow its
course through the earlier stages, from the siege of Orenburg through
the Urals to the defeat at Kazan. We begin after that defeat when, as
Pushkin put it in a well-known phrase, 'Pugachev was fleeing, but his
flight seemed to be an invasion.' As the pretender moved down the
Volga, violence broke out along that mighty river and to the west of
it. From 25 July to 4 August, there arose a great fear during ten days
that shook the Moscow province.
About the middle of July 1774 the commander-in-chief of Moscow
town, Prince M. N. Volkonsky, began to receive news about
Pugachev's movement west from Kazan and his potential threat to
Moscow itself. On 25 July, soon after learning that the rebels were at
Kurmysh, something over 500 kilometres away, Volkonsky called
together the Moscow departments of the Senate to discuss in extra-
ordinary session arrangements for the defence of the old capital. Vol-
konsky himself would make a sortie against him with three regi-
ments. Each senator was to assume responsibility for a section of the
konsky himself would make a sortie against him with three regimen-
ts. Each senator was to assume responsibility for a section of the
town. Government offices, documents and money were to be sealed
away, and members of suspicious gatherings arrested. As for the rest
of the province, instructions were to be sent out to the marshals ofthe
nobility to gather together the landlords and their retainers for the
defence of their districts and if necessary of the capital itself. The
Moscow senators accepted most of Volkonsky's proposals, often
modestly elaborating, slightly emending or simply repeating them.
They immediately communicated to the county chiefs, the voevody,
orders to send back to the Senate any news of Pugachev; to transport
their treasuries to Moscow or some other convenient place should
danger approach; and to co-operate with the marshals of the nobility
in preparations for defence against the miscreant, including the rais-
ing of levies composed of household servants and in some cases of
townspeople toO.42
The very next day, 26 July, Volkonsky issued a new directive not to
carry out most of the measures just prescribed for the town of
Moscow. The reason given was fresh news, which altered the situ-
ation and made it unnecessary to spread alarm throughout the town.
A Soviet historian argues that the fresh news could not have come
from the revolt, but rather concerned the peace of Kuchuk-
Kainardzhi and the appointment of General P. I. Panin as com-
mander-in-chief of the anti-Pugachev forces. Volkonsky was not so
much less worried about the threat to Moscow of the insurgents as
apprehensive lest Panin should reprimand him for having forestalled
any measures which the superior officer was contemplating. 43
Let us leave the town for the moment and consider how the rural
areas reacted to the threat of Pugachev's approach. The Gorokho-
vets voevoda's chancellery reported on 22 July to the governor of
Moscow province, Count F. A. Osterman, that travellers had
brought news of 'the great danger' in which the inhabitants of
Nizhny Novgorod believed themselves to be after the fall of
Kurmysh. Kurmysh was little more than 120 kilometres east of
Nizhny, Gorokhovets a mere 100 or so further to the west. The
report concluded with a request for help, since the town was defence-
less - without fortifications, soldiers or arms. The neighbouring Vla-
dimir county chancellery was informed as well as the Moscow
governor. On 23 July the local nobles were called together by the
Gorokhovets voevoda, but there were only five of them, so they had
to confess themselves unable to do much unaided. Vladimir itself was
not in a much better position. Its chancellery informed Volkonsky
and Osterman on 24 July that there were scarcely enough troops
locally to look after 152 local convicts, including 78 Turkish pri-
soners. There was nobody left to defend the city itself, some of the
local military detachment having been sent to the aid ofNizhny and
others to look for brigands in the nearby districts. 44
In Suzdal, near Vladimir, after some initial reluctance to believe
the news ofthe approaching threat, the county chancellery set about
planning its defence on 27 July in co-operation with the local nobi-
lity, while the local treasury was sent off to Moscow. The alarm
spread by 25 July to Iurev-Polsky, a little further to the west, when
Sergeant Timofei Chuprov reported to the county chancellery that
the day before he had met a band of eleven men coming along the
road from Suzdal. They were dressed in grey and were armed with
swords, so he had assumed that they were soldiers. But when he
asked them who they were, they replied: 'Detachments of the Sover-
eign Emperor Peter Fedorovich. Do you think he's dead then? No
he's not dead but alive!' Supplied with tobacco and food, they were
on their way towards Moscow.The report of Sergeant Chuprov,
along with the news of the seizure of Kurmysh, convinced the Iurev
county chancellery of the need for extraordinary measures. Neigh-
bouring and other cities were to be alerted to the danger that sus-
picious people 'without proper passports' might try to lure simple
folk away from their loyalty. The suspects must be caught and sent to
Iurev. All noble landlords or their stewards were to commit them-
selves to setting up guard in the villages, and arming the inhabitants
as much as possible, if only with sharpened stakes. Everybody was to

be in complete readiness in case the insurgents should attack. Retired
soldiers were to be ready to report to Iurev immediately, and all the
local nobility and important merchants were to gather together with
the voevoda to discuss further preparations for the defence of the
town itself. Blockades were to be set up on all the roads and all trav-
ellers investigated. Only those peasants, who had written testi-
monials signed by the appropriate priest or steward could enter the
towns on market days. Small lanes were to be sealed tightly or to
have holes dug in them. The merchants were to make sure that food
supplies would be sufficient if a large number of folk were to gather
in the town. Murom, a hundred kilometres or so to the south-east of
Vladimir, was also very much affected by the alarms and excursions
of late July. The necessity for precautions there was confirmed by in-
telligence received on 26 July from Arzamas, less than a hundred
kilometres to the east, that a band of about forty unarmed men was
proceeding towards Murom, possibly as the vanguard of a large
detachment of Pug achev's men. 45
Thus disturbing news had spread quickly throughout the most ex-
posed part of the huge Moscow province, and the great fear was not
confined to that area; almost every county and district chancellery
has left us some evidence of its disquiet. For example, at Meshchovsk
near Kaluga, to the south-west of the old capital, the voevoda instruc-
ted the local marshal of the nobility on 28 July to assemble the nobles
for a conference. In his turn, the marshal appointed ten supervisors
to make sure that their fellow nobles turned up on 5 August, the day
appointed. The conference duly took place, and 29 nobles signed a
series of resolutions (as opposed to 16 signing the local instruction to
the Legislative Commission of 1767-8). These resolutions included
the recruitment of a levy, composed of the nobles themselves and 1
per 200 of their serfs, not younger than twenty and not older than
forty, mounted, armed and provided for. As well as wondering if
they should not perhaps purchase powder and shot at their own
expense since there was none available locally, they also agreed to be
ready for action at a moment's notice. The Meshchovsk townspeople
followed the lead of the dvoriane, adding a further 3 to the estimated
levy of 191. If court peasants and economic (formerly monastic) pea-
sants had added their due quota, the grand total would have been
about 225, making this extraordinary levy about half the size of the
regular quinquennial recruitment (laid down in 1766 as 1 per 100
souls). But considering the expense and the importance of the point
reached in the farming year, as the peasants were concentrating their
minds on the all-important harvest, this was an impressive enough
figure. Both the voevoda and other local leaders were perturbed
enough by the news they received to carryon preparing for action
until they received the 'all clear' decree of 4 August on 7 August. 46
The frightening news had come not only from remote Vladimir,
but also from other districts of Kaluga county. The peasants every-
where appeared to know about Pugachev, his aims and movements.
One Rodion Efimov from the village of Senkov in the Kozelsk dis-
trict was reported to have declared: 'We've heard that the sovereign
will free us from the landlords.' A cloth worker in the Maloiarosla-
vets district at the other end of the county, a certain Sutiagin, alleg-
edly announced on 3 August: 'Pugachev has come to Arzamas and
the Arzamas voevoda Siniavin has brought him out bread and salt,
welcomed him with honour and ordered the bells to ring three days
for his arrival.' Another worker, Naidenov, when informed that he
was going with others to guard against the incursions of the mis-
creant Pugachev, not only refused to go but also protested: 'How can
you call him a brigand? How will you answer for this?' The appren-
tice Ivan Ratastikov, when told that his wife would be heJd to
account for inadequate work, threatened his masters thus: 'If God
brings us the sovereign Peter Fedorovich, they will have to cope with
him and will not be able to restrain him.'47 Not far away, Andrei
Bolotov, recently appointed steward of an estate by Prince Gagarin,
addressed the detachment of serfs arrayed for joining a levy. As he
later put it, he exhorted them:
... in case the affair should come to a battle, they should

remember whose they were and not shame themselves before the
whole world with cowardice, and should fight well, and turning to
one of them, the strongest and smartest of the lot, I said: 'They
won't want to fight with him, one of him could clean up ten of
them.' 'Yes,' he said to me smiling wickedly, 'if I started to fight
with my brother! And ifit be you, the boyars, I shall be ready to fix
ten on this spear.' Hearing this, I stiffened, and swallowing this bit-
ter pill, could only say: 'Idiot! Son of a bitch! How this demeans
you!' I thought to myself: 'That's how these protectors and
defenders are in their hearts, and there you are expecting good
from them.' Later, having asked for his name and written it in a
notebook to remember it, I said to him further: 'All right, all right
brother! Be off with you! Perhaps things won't turn out for you in
this way, and then we'll see.' My muzhik lost his nerve when he
heard this and saw that his name was written down; but since
nothing could be done about it and he babbled on so stupidly and
carelessly, he went off with the others hanging his head. Later he
was rapped on the knuckles for this in a clever fashion; because
when he happened to commit an offence and it was necessary to
punish him, I remembered these words and trebled his punishment
forthem.48
Regrets and retribution may have come later, but at the time there
were many like Bolotov's muzhik ready to be insolent and threat-
ening. And not only were there such statements in favour of the pre-
tender, his agents were at work in and around Kaluga too. One such,
Sergeant Tikhon Popov, was caught in Peremyshl on 12 August and
examined in Kaluga county chancellery a week later. Popov said that
there were many others like him. He himself had watched troop
movements and converted peasants to the cause, including Rodion
Efimov mentioned above. The voevody of Mosalsk and Serpeisk,
along with the Serpeisk marshal of the nobility, reported on 2 August
that Polish prisoners making their way back from Siberia were
attacking villages and towns 'in the name of Pugachev'. (The Soviet
historian M. D. Kurmacheva has argued that these 'Poles' were in
fact peasant insurgents, and that the officials blamed their actions on
the Poles in order to reduce the chance of mass outbreaks in sup-
port.) Poles or peasants, the disturbers of the peace were sufficiently
active for the voevody and the marshal to say:
Everybody knows that the name of the miscreant Pugachev has

become known to all, even to rural inhabitants since the time that
he has begun his evil deeds. His exploits inimical to the laws of so-
ciety and God, have evidently infiltrated the hearts of simple
people, as if to win them over to his band as he has done those in
Kazan province, giving them hope that their dues will be reduced
and that they will be freed from their duties to their landlord. Here
nobody speaks directly about it; but many undoubtedly feel it, or
pick it up easily from strangers, or take it in from their own men-
ials who treat them without respect, abandoning their simplicity.
There is no proof of this, indeed none is necessary, because the
noble managing his own villages best of all recognises it for him-
self; however it cannot be ignored. The illusion of being free from
the landlord and the advantages of paying the lightest taxes power-
fully incline the peasant and the servant everywhere to base causes
and desperate undertakings. And although it is in no way possible
to hide completely for long from them the direct signs of per-
missible precautions, at least it is necessary to try for a time to hide
from them the desperate strivings of the accursed Pugachev. 49
With such ideas in mind, the voevody, the nobles and their allies
among the townspeople set about their 'permissible precautions'.
Their work was certainly cut out because Kaluga was without
defence, arms or munitions, or significant military detachments. Im-
mediately all townspeople were told to be on th<: alert for vagrants
without passports, and tavern keepers were tol d to look out for
doubtful characters and to close their doors and not to sell drinks at
night on pain of death. Such military personnel as there were in the
neighbourhood (retired disabled soldiers keeping watch or carrying
out escort duties, a recruiting detachment and a detachment of the
second Moscow regiment) were to hold themselves in strict readiness
with daily drill.
Soon these measures were supplemented. Boats on the river Oka
were to be gathered together and kept under close guard. Inspectors
from the nobility were to go around the areas under their jurisdiction
three times a week, keeping a lookout for malefactors and attempt-
ing to catch them. A levy was to be recruited in Kaluga and elsewhere
at a rate of 1 soul per 100 fully equipped. The clergy were asked to do
their bit by suppressing the name of the accursed Pugachev as much
as possible, and local officials in both towns and rural areas were to
co-ordinate the mobilisation. The voevoda of Mosalsk was the most
zealous of the higher local officials, apparently, being perturbed even
about the lack of a drummer. In Mosalsk there was a drum, but no
drummer. And what good were military detachments without a
drummer? Just in time he recalled that there was in nearby Mesh-
chovsk a drummer on leave, and so he wrote to the voevoda's chancel-
lery in that town requesting that just for the present critical time this
drummer should be sent to Mosalsk. 50
N either the drummer nor the 300 flints brought back from Tula to
Serpeisk and Mosalsk at a cost of 2 roubles 40 kopecks would have
contributed much to the defence of the county of Kaluga had
Pugachev's forces attacked it in strength. And yet the 'Home Guard'
elements in the preparations of the voevody and their noble and com-
moner associates should not blind us to the deadly seriousness of the
situation as they saw it. And only two examples have been taken
here: the regions around Vladimir and Kaluga. Similar stories could
be told of nearly all parts of the Moscow province. In most places
there was a positive response to the Senate decree of25 July 1774. Ar-
rangements were made for the recruitment oflevies, the blockade of
rivers and roads, the protection of official buildings and treasuries,
the suppression of subversive propaganda, and the arrest of suspects.
It is true that little is known about the actual implementation of such
arrangements, and that many were dependent on aid from Moscow.
Levies are known to have been raised for certain only in Gorokho-
vets, Kolomna, Rostov and Mikhailov. And solidarity was not
always complete among the anti-Pugachev forces; even among the
most highly threatened nobility (dvorianstvo) friction sometimes oc-
curred about status. Nevertheless fear of the common people in the
towns and especially in the rural areas was sufficient to keep such
tension within reasonable bounds. Nobles and their stewards, mer-
chants and local officials, were all agreed as to where their principal
enemy was to be found.51
Back in Moscow town the interference of Catherine from St
Petersburg, the tension between her and Panin as well as between
Panin and Volkonsky, in addition to the spasmodic and sometimes
contradictory nature of the news about the whereabouts and mode of
action of Pugachev himself, all contributed to a somewhat erratic
policy of preparations for defence. Near the end of July Volkonsky
came to believe that the danger had passed, and was in favour of giv-
ing a negative response to the demands of the counties for arms and
aid. On 1 August the Senate agreed that county levies were no longer
necessary. The provincial governor Osterman replied to a request
from Kolomna on the same day in a similar manner, arguing that the
rebel forces had been scattered and that the recruitment of armed
men would create feelings of alarm rather than security. On 4 August
the Senate sent out a decree to the counties rescinding its decree of 25
July. The peasants should now be encouraged to work on essential
farming tasks, while the town officials would be sufficient to watch
out for suspicious people. On the same day, Osterman again wrote in
negative terms, this time to Iaroslavl, pointing out that the assembly
oflarge numbers of people in the town could hinder the collection of
state taxes.
Yet the day before, 3 August, the Moscow commander-in-chief,
Prince Volkonsky, summoned the nobility to his house, before which
the whole square was set with cannon. He announced that there
were insurgent detachments in the neighbourhood of Nizhny Nov-
gorod and that the nobles should therefore set up a levy of their own
people. The proposal was accepted unanimously and Count
P. B. Sheremetev was elected commander. And on 4 August the
Senate received news that some court peasants had refused to
contribute their quota of 2 men per lOO to a levy. Perhaps these two
developments were connected, in which case the formation of a levy
-in the capital rendered superfluous the formation of levies in the
counties, which could promote as well as inhibit social disturbance, a
consideration in a sense dovetailing with that of Osterman.
Meanwhile, P. I. Panin, commander-in-chief ofthe anti-Pugachev
forces and himself a Muscovite, was beginning to assert his own con-
trol. Although he had been assigned as his area of command only the
provinces of Nizhny Novgorod, Kazan and Orenburg, he expanded
it to include Moscow with the approval of most of the local nobility,
many of whom would have been known to him personally. Panin
delayed his departure for the main theatre of operations, aiming at
consolidating his position in Moscow before advancing on the insur-
gents. Towards the end of July Volkonsky had sent out Major-
General Chorba to Vladimir with a detachment of no fewer than
three regular regiments and instructions to pay attention to requests
for help from all districts of Moscow province. And so the policy of
decentralisation inaugurated by Volkonsky himself and the Senate
on 25 July was rescinded, while the county and district chancelleries
lost their powers of initiative and resumed their subordinate position
in the chain of command.
The threat of Pugachev and his adherents to the heart of the
empire died away in the late summer of 1774, but as late as 15 Sep-
tember the Kadyi district chancellery from Kostroma county was
reporting precautions taken against 'a band of the well-known state
criminal'. More distant echoes of the revolt were heard even later, in
1775 and even in 1776. 52
The reverberations were felt at the end of the eighteenth century as
we shall soon see, throughout the nineteenth century and during the
years of the Russian Revolutions, as we shall see in later chapters.
The discussion concerning the significance of the revolt and its typifi-
cation still continues today. Is it best described as a 'peasant war' or a
'frontier jacquerie'? Was it confined to Russia, just a part of it, or did
its implications transcend the imperial boundaries?
The concept of 'peasant war' was first developed by Engels in his
study of a series of hostilities in sixteenth-century Germany. It was
taken up by Soviet historians, and has in recent years been at the
centre of their analysis of the revolts of Bolotnikov, Razin, Bulavin
and Pugachev. In their view a peasant war is one without concession
or compromise, directed against the entire system of serfdom and the
'feudal' nobility in general, even though its radical nature is often dIs-
guised by the 'naive monarchism' of the participants. Peasant war
presupposes to a greater or lesser degree the existence of a unified
centre of insurgent operations and of general slogans expressing the
social hopes of the insurgents. Other groups, notably Cossacks, may
participate, even provide leadership and driving force, but they do
not change the peasant war's basic class alignment. 53 'Jacquerie', on
the other hand, is a concept originating in fourteenth-century
France, developed by the American political scientist Chalmers
Johnson, and taken up with a 'frontier' additive by the American his-
torian who has written most in the English language on the Pugachev
Revolt, John T. Alexander. The emphasis here is on 'a mass rebellion
of lost rights or the removal of specific grievances .... a jacquerie
aims at the restoration of legitimate government within a regime
rather than at making unprecedented structural changes in the social
system.' The prefix 'frontier' strongly implies the domination of the
Pugachev Revolt by the Cossacks. 54
The evidence presented above could provide some support for
both definitions; perhaps most for the first. The verdict must to some
extent depend upon the extent of one's agreement with the assertion
of the Soviet historian M. D. Kurmacheva that representatives of
the ruling class had no interest in exaggerating the success of the pea-
sant movement. She and most of her colleagues would therefore
accept at face value the estimation ofthe popular mood in Moscow
made by Bolotov and already cited, and in the following remarks of
Commander-in-ChiefVolkonskyon 18 August 1774:
This town is made up of all kinds of [ordinary] people, among

whom, as is known to me through the affairs of the Secret Chancel-
lery, baseness has almost completely spread from the propaganda
of the accomplices of the miscreant Pugachev, and in the
district[s], one may conclude, the rabble is imitating [them], as
already in the Vladimir district a whole settlement of court pea-
sants has become disobedient to its commanders."
On the other hand, as R. R. Palmer has suggested, 'quotation, in

which Russians dwell upon the reality or danger of revolutionary dis-
content in their own country, may in fact be more counterrevol-
utionary excitement or propaganda than actual evidence of a real
social unrest'." While this indeed may be so, the well-known obser-
vation of Carlyle needs to be borne in mind (and applied to the Pug a-
chev Revolt) to the effect that most historians omit from their
accounts of the French Revolution 'the haggard element offear'.
, A second, even more controversial point concerns the degree of
the political consciousness of the Russian peasantry in the late eight-
eenth century. Can there be any justified talk of a 'serf intelligentsia '?
This concept is completely acceptable to most Soviet historians, and
might be more widely acceptable if M. D. Kurmacheva's definition
of it is to be employed. She takes 'serf intelligentsia' to mean no more
than those peasants who could read and write. Undoubtedly, there
were plenty who had the basic gramota, if few such as those observed
by a French visitor at the beginning of the nineteenth century surrep-
titiously borrowing from their masters' libraries the works of Vol-
taire and Rousseau. 57 How typical were the individual examples
referred to by Kurmacheva and her colleagues, the Rodion Efimovs
and Tikhon Popovs? This is a question that can probably never be
definitively answered.
A third consideration must be of a man who failed even the basic
test of literacy, that is Pugachev himself, his aims and intentions. In
the testimony which he gave after his arrest in September 1774, he
said that he had originally intended to march on Moscow, and would
probably have done so after the winter of 1774-5. (Soviet historians
sometimes argue that he changed his mind temporarily after the
storming of Kazan because the harvest of 1774 was not very success-
ful and supplies were easier to come by along the Volga than near
Moscow.) In Pugachev's own further words: 'A further intention, to
possess the whole Russian kingdom, I did not have because, con-
sidering myself, I did not think I was capable of government, because
of my illiteracy." Illiteracy does not mean stupidity any more than
literacy means political awareness, and both Pugachev and several of
his associates were astute enough in their own way. Their 'War Col-
lege' and organisation in general gave at least fitful direction to the
revolt. And if they had no clearly formulated scheme to take over the
whole of the empire, some of their purposes were straightforward
and comprehensive, particularly in the decree of 31 July 1774:
And since ... our name now flourishes in Russia, therefore We

order by this Our personal decree: those who were formerly nobles
in their estates, these opponents of our authority and disturbers of
the empire and destroyers of the peasants catch, execute and hang
and treat in the same~way as they, not having Christianity, have
dealt with you, the peasants. With the eradication of these op-
ponents and villainous nobles, everybody may feel peace and a
quiet life, which will continue for ever."
These are hardly 'limited aims', in either scope or severity.

Moreover, Pugachev's ideology did not point exclusively towards
'the restoration of legitimate government ... and of lost rights'. Of
course, there were pronounced elements of both restorations, in the
'naive monarchism' of the insurgents which could find no wrong in
the 'true tsar', and in the desire to grow hair and beards in the Old
Russian fashion without tax or penalty. But there were back-
ward-looking aspects to the views of fully fledged revolutionaries in
seventeenth-century England, eighteenth-century America and
France, and twentieth-century Russia. The 'freedom and liberty'
promised by Pugachev to his supporters would mean the estab-
lishment of a fraternal commonwealth, with strong Cossack ingre-
dients but also with the admixture of communal landholding and
abolition of taxes and services more appropriate to the status of
Great Russian peasants, and something more intangible but also
more idealistic- 'the quiet life, which will continue for ever'.
A fourth question to be investigated revolves around the impact of
international affairs on the Pugachev Revolt. This has been incom-
pletely explored, in both Soviet and Western historiography. There is
some substance in John T. Alexander's charge against his Soviet
colleagues in this direction, but nor is Alexander's own article on
this subject in any way comprehensive. However it is generally
agreed that the conclusion of the peace of Kuchuk-Kainardzhi in
July 1774 made an enormous difference to the outcome of the in-
ternal war. And European powers certainly watched Pugachev's
progress as closely as possible, conscious that Russia's embar-
rassment could be to their advantage. 60
A fifth and final question must be directed at the reasons for the
revolt's failure. The Soviet answer, given also by some Western his-
torians, is that Russia's social development had not progressed far
enough by 1773-5 for the Cossacks and peasants to receive support
or rather leadership from the bourgeoisie. We have earlier on in
this chapter suggested that the Third Estate in Russia differed
somewhat in its nature from its counterpart in some countries of
Western Europe, but that, considered on a scale comprising the
whole continent or even wider frame of reference, this class would
not appear undeveloped. Nevertheless, there was obviously not
present in Russia the kind of social alliance against the regime that
France could provide fifteen or so years later.
Although the Pugachev Revolt failed, its impact was profound
and lasting. The memory of the 'miscreant' was still fresh in the
minds of most educated, upper-class Russians when the early stages
of the French Revolution arrived. Many of them, no doubt, drew
back from the brink of sympathy for this reason alone. It is just pos-
sible, too, that there was an agreement with the ideas of Prince
M. M. Shcherbatov as expressed at Catherine's Legislative Com-
mission in 1767-8. Strongly rejecting a fellow-noble's recom-
mendation of England as a successful free society to be emulated,
Shcherbatov had declared that England's freedom had cost the
blood of thousands and the misfortunes of many virtuous and just
monarchs. He also referred to the chaos caused by Russia's early sev-
enteenth-century crisis, the Time of Troubles.61 Neither this nor the
Pug ache v Revolt, however, deterred some noblemen, particularly
the younger ones, from surrendering to the intoxication of the
moment in both Paris and St Petersburg. Two Princes Golitsyn
helped storm the Bastille. Count Paul Stroganov went nearly every
day with his tutor Romme to the National Assembly at Versailles,
and joined the Jacobins and other revolutionary clubs. He dreamed
of becoming the Russian Mirabeau, writing as he left France at the
order of his father: 'The cry of freedom rings in my ears and the best
day of my life will be that when I see Russia regenerated by such a
revolution.'62 And the news soon broke through to Russia itself.63
Back in St Petersburg the first slogans of the Revolution were wel-
comed and the Declaration of the Rights of Man quickly became a
catechism, wrote a Swiss visitor, Dumont.64 Segur, Louis XVI's am-
bassador, wrote about the reception in St Petersburg of the news of
the fall of the Bastille:
I cannot communicate the enthusiasm which was excited among

the merchants, the tradesmen, the citizens, and some young men of
a more elevated rank by the destruction of that state prison, and
the first triumph of a stormy liberty. Frenchmen, Russians, Danes,
Germans, Englishmen, Dutchmen all congratulated and
embraced one another in the streets, as if they had been relieved
from the weight of heavy chains."
Catherine herself moved from a moderate suspicion to a complete

abhorrence of the French Revolution. She wrote to Grimm in
February 1790:
As a person ignorant of the facts, I simply ask questions, foresee-

ing the destruction of everything that has been linked with the
system of ideas of the beginning and middle of this century, which
brought forth rules and principles without which, however, it is
impossible to live one day.
In April 1792 she confessed to the same correspondent that 'I am

frightened of going out of my mind because of the events which so
strongly shake the nerves.' And then, in February 1794, she revealed
that she had moved into a completely reactionary position, writing to
Baron Melchior von Grimm:
And so, you were right, never expressing the wish to be included
among the luminaries, the illumines and the philosophes, since ex-
perience proves, that all this leads to destruction; but whatever
they have said and done, the world will never cease to need an
authority ... it is better to prefer the foolishness of one, than the
madness of many, infecting with fury twenty million people in the
name of 'freedom', of which they do not possess even the shadow
after which these madmen rush forward to ensure that it will never
be achieved."
Until her death in November 1796 Catherine did all that she could to
stop the French infection from spreading to Russia.
Nevertheless Count Rostopchin wrote in March 1794 that a dis-
content threatening the governing classes was general.67 Three
months later Catherine's secretary, Count Zavadovsky, wrote to
A. R. Vorontsov that the situation was so threatening that 'God
alone knows how and when this poisonous flame will die away' .68 In
the provinces69 the Baltic governor-general, N. V. Repnin, sent in-
structions on 30 April/II May 1796 to the commander of one of the
units of Russian troops in the area, telling him that all suspicious
people must be watched, particularly Jews. Repnin wrote:
Unknown people ... must not be allowed, on the contrary, par-

ticulars must be taken through the police of everybody without
exception; where he came from, with what passport, on what
business and to whom, with whom exactly he is lodging and what
he is doing. Have your own people in all taverns and public
places, to find out who is frequenting them and what is being said
there, and do not allow anybody to stay there later than eleven
o'clock, and arrest the disobedient .... On the main roads, in
taverns and inns in both large and small towns ... all this must
be watched and reported to you immediately. In a word, all
troops, all sentries and patrols must be in the highest military pre-
paredness. Tell me about everything noticed by you. I am relying
onyou. 70
The Baltic region, argues the Soviet historian Dzhedzhula, was no

exception. Tsarism was terrified of the peasantry everywhere, and
bourgeois historians have been mistaken in looking on the peasantry
as an inert mass. The Russian peasant was by no means as stupid as
was often alleged. Pugachev had played his part well, and his lieuten-
ants theirs. His forces had stood up against regular soldiers and the
best officers in Europe; they had even been a threat to them. And
now the peasant in Russia understood in his own way what was going
on in France. In his eyes the French Revolution 'was no different
from the Pugachevshchina' and in this sense it was close to him and
comprehensible. The French Revolution without any doubt served
as a contagious example for the peasants too. How did the Russian
peasants receive the contagion? Affirms Dzhedzhula:
News about the French Revolution infiltrated the Russian villages

through peasants working in the manor houses and hearing much
about it there; through peasant workers [othodniki] returning
from the towns; through soldiers and officers quartered in the vil-
lages and small towns; through the serf intelligentsia, who read
Russian and French periodical literature, and through many other
channels. Among the people living in the villages there were not a
few who intensively spread news about this revolution and sum-
moned the peasants to follow its example.71
All this is by no means ingenious but empty rhetoric. Perhaps

Dzhedzhula exaggerates the state of consciousness of the Russian
peasant and the serf intelligentsia, the power and influence of
Pugachev. But he also adduces an impressive amount of evidence
from contemporary memoirs and from the archives. This and other
information will now be used to show the nature and extent of
social movements during the years of the French Revolution.
S. N. Glinka later recalled that, in the years leading up to 1789, 'a
general spirit of revolt went round the farms and villages' of
Russia. 71 Citizen Genet reported to his government on 8 November
1791 that the Russian peasants were 'more ready than is thought
to break the yoke of their masters' tyranny' .73 S. R. Vorontsov
wrote in 1792 that the French Revolution, 'a war between the
haves and have-nots',74 was too great a lure for the Russian pea-
sants.
The peasants themselves soon gave positive testimony to the cor-
rectness of the views of Genet and Vorontsov. Except for that of
Pugachev, no revolt was as widespread and penetrating in the later
eighteenth century as that of the years 1796-8; according to an esti-
mate made in 1904,278 incidents occurred in 32 provinces. Few of
these, it is true, led to much violence, but there were thousands of
insurgents, battles with government troops, and some threat of
separate groups coalescing into one peasant army." Some of this dis-
turbance was no doubt caused by local circumstances and some by
the governmental changeover with the death of Catherine and the
accession of Paul towards the end of 1796. And yet the connection
with the French Revolution was made by contemporaries. The land-
lord Pozdeev commented about the character of peasant insurrec-
tion in 1797; 'All the peasants have ... the thought that there should
be no nobles .... This is the self-same illuminist spirit of insubordin-
ation and independence, which has spread through all Europe. '76 The
landlord Senator Bibikov declared that the people everywhere all
this time had been led astray by false rumour of liberty and equality
into dissension with other classes. 77
Urban areas were affected as well as rural. According to Dzhedz-
hula, although here his argument cannot be corroborated by evi-
dence from other published sources, disturbances occurred at
factories in Kazan in 1796; in Moscow in 1797; in Iaroslavl in 1798;
and so on. Moreover, the armed forces were not immune from the
contagion. There were more military men than any other type in tsa-
rist jails during the 1790s; more than a hundred soldiers and officers
in two St Petersburg prisons, and about the same number in others
elsewhere. 78 A group of officers from various garrisons throughout
Russia and centred on Smolensk, wanted to kill the Emperor Paul
and set up a quasi-democratic order, thus foreshadowing the growth
of the Decembrist movement. 79 A guards colonel, EvgrafGruzinov,
was knouted to death in 1800 after having been accused and con-
victed on three charges, which were: boasting that he would take
Constantinople, settle it with people of various faiths, and set up his
own administration there; declaring that he would surpass Pugachev
and his predecessor Stepan Razin; insulting the sovereign by sending
away some peasants which had been granted to him, claiming that he
did not need them. Gruzinov's younger brother and some Cossacks
were executed soon after him, having shared his wild dreams. 8o
As well as military men, townspeople and peasants, intellectuals
from the middle class and nobility were convicted of anti-tsarist ac-
tivity during the 1790s. After Radishchev's Journey from St. Peters-
burg to Moscow had come out in 1790, Catherine called him 'a rebel
worse than Pugachev', condemned him first to death and then to
exile. His friend P. I. Chelishchev was called the second propa-
gandist of the French Revolution in Russia after Radishchev by
Catherine, who put him in jail. Released when proof could not be
found that he had collaborated in the composition of Radishchev's
Journey, Chelishchev went on to write his own. N.I.Novikov, the
journalist and philanthropist, was jailed for fifteen years in 1792,
Catherine deeming him 'worse than Radishchev'. In 1793 the free-
thinker F. Krechetov was given a rigorous cross-examination, the
secret police writing that his works were filled with discussions of
freedom and that 'with his propaganda and actions he could push
people to an enterprise inimical to the state'. Krechetov was sen-
tenced to life imprisonment and prohibited from reading and writ-
ing, and from communicating with friends. 8 ) The poet Derzhavin
and other writers had to appear before the secret police, too,
although without such serious consequences. 82
There was much book-burning in Russia during the early years of
the French Revolution, a sad end to the reign of that erstwhile liberal
and patroness of the arts, the Empress Catherine. In 1792 in
Moscow, according to one account, nearly 20,000 books were
burned in connection with Novikov's arrest. 83 Tsardom censored
talk as well as literature, completely forbidding the word for society,
obshchestvo, and replacing grazhdanin, or citizen, with the more
innocuous zhitel, or inhabitant. 84 One of the many anecdotes about
Paul I tells of the emperor on a journey by coach to Kazan with his
retinue, one of whom had the temerity to observe as they were pass-
ing through some wooded country: 'There are the first representa-
tives [predstaviteli] of the forests which stretch far beyond the Urals.'
Paul replied: 'Very poetically said, but completely out of place. Be so
good as to get out of the coach immediately.'8' Not only dangerous
words, but fashions, too, were prohibited. A decree of 1798 ordered
manufacturers to stop making tri-colour ribbons, for example.86
And, of course, police spies were everywhere. Wrote Masson: 'A
man who knows how to read and write, from whatever nation he be,
is violently suspected. If he is French, there is no doubt - Jacobin.
Whoever reads the newspapers is dangerous: whoever discusses them
- Jacobin.'87 For all this, French books, papers and pamphlets were
still disseminated in Russia. The commander-in-chief of Moscow,
Prince Prozorovskii, reported to Catherine in May 1792 that 'it can
unmistakenly be said that as soon as books are published in France,
they can secretly be bought here' .88 Radishchev read Pere Duchesne
and other such works in exile in Siberia. 89 Moreover much manu-
script work escaping the censor was disseminated. Emblems and
badges were imported as well as books.90
The ideas and symbols of the French Revolution, then, certainly
penetrated Russia to a degree comparable with that to be found in
some other European nations, and sufficiently high to suggest the ex-
tension of the idea of an Atlantic revolution. Certainly the sequel to
the era of the eighteenth-century revolution demonstrated the im-
portance of Russia's involvement in it. For the rest of its existence
tsarism retained a vivid memory of the revolution, and regarded a
repetition of Russia's own peculiar contribution to it as something to
be avoided at all costs. Largely for this reason successive govern-
ments shrank from the encouragement of the break-up of rural
Russia, and supported the view that their empire was completely
separate from Western Europe. Abroad, too, the tsars and their
officials worked in the Holy Alliance and the Dreikaiserbund, to
avoid or crush the revival of revolutionism. The Russian revol-
utionaries, for their part, from the Decembrists to the Bolsheviks,
drew on the French (and, to a lesser extent, the American) traditions
of liberty and equality. They sang their own version of 'La Marseil-
laise'in 1917. In 1917 and after, the course of the history of the Bol-
shevik government and the Third International was affected by the
shadow ofThermidor and Bonapartism, at least up to the end of the
1920s.
There can be little doubt that the American and French Revol-
utions are the great events of the revolutionary age, signal moments
in modern world history as a whole. 91 But neither of them (as Gode-
chot and Palmer pointed out) can be fully understood if not seen in
its pr:oper context. That proper context, as Palmer has since recog-
nised, goes beyond the boundaries of an Atlantic or Western revol-
ution, even though progressive forces met with no comparable
success elsew here. By the standards of the eighteenth century, neither
the economy nor the society of Russia was hopelessly backward. Its
policy was recognisably European, and its diplomatic and cultural
activity enmeshed it deeply in the Western world. In the climactic
wars of the French Revolution, Russia played such a vigorous role
partly because of opportunities for expansion afforded in Eastern
Europe but partly also because the desire for liberty and equality was
felt there as well as elsewhere in Europe. To suppress or at least
contain revolutionary France was also to reduce a not inconsiderable
threat to domestic stability. This threat may not in retrospect appear
great, but was real enough at the time to commentators living in the
empire and to such foreign observers as Edmund Burke, who wrote
at the end of 1791:
The Russian government is of all others the most liable to be sub-

verted by military seditions, by court conspiracies, and sometimes
by headlong rebellions of the people, such as in the turbinating
movement of Pugatchef. It is not quite so probable that in any of
these changes the spirit of system may mingle in the manner it has
done in France. The Muscovites are no great speculators - but I
should not much rely on their uninquisitive disposition, if any of
their ordinary motives to sedition should arise. The little cate-
chism of the rights of men is soon learned; and the inferences are in
the passions.92
Burke points out the peculiarities of the Russian situation as well as

the basic involvement of the empire in the eighteenth-century revol-
utionary movement. Such has been the aim of this chapter, not to
equate the Pugachev or any other revolt with the American or
French Revolutions, which would obviously be a stupid claim, but
rather to assert that their own domestic upheavals in the 1770s and
1790s appeared to Russians to bear a certain resemblance to those
elsewhere. Conservatives trembled and did all they could to stop the
infection from spreading; sympathisers rejoiced that the influence of
the foreign revolutions had penetrated as far as their homeland and
attempted to adapt the newly proclaimed ideas for the consumption
of their fellow-countrymen. When Condorcet wrote in 1795 that in
the aftermath of the American Revolution: 'The rights of man were
freely investigated, and strenuously supported from the banks of the
Neva to those of the Guadalquivir,'93 his frame of reference was too
narrow and should have been stretched further, from the Atlantic to
the Urals.
3 The Peaceful Modernisation of the
Nineteenth Century
Could tsarism have modernised without violent revolution? That is,

could its autocratic government have successfully managed and
adapted to the transformation of Russia from an agrarian to an in-
dustrial society with a new secular culture (including universal edu-
cation) grafted on to the old religious ideology? This is the question
addressed by much of Western historical writing on Russia in the
nineteenth century, and answered too much in the affirmative.) On
the other side, even if invariably giving the negative answer, Soviet
historiography has also given some consideration to the question,
and here as elsewhere it has followed the lead of Lenin, who talked of
the possibility of Russia taking the Prussian and American paths.2
These will be the subject of discussion in the present chapter.
First a few words about peaceful modernisation. Even where this
process was achieved, the violence was only relatively absent and
many people and ways of life were ruthlessly trampled underfoot
even if the regime was able to continue its existence without radical
alteration. The iniquities and savageries of modernisation in Britain
and elsewhere were fully catalogued by a number of observers, not
least Marx and Engels. But another preliminary point that needs to
be made is that Marx and Engels did not believe the process to be
retrogressive. Indeed they may be numbered among the more lyri-
cal celebrants of capitalism, affirming in the Communist Manifesto
that the bourgeoisie:
... has been the first to show what man's activity can bring
about. It has accomplished wonders far surpassing Egyptian
pyramids, Roman aqueducts, and Gothic cathedrals; it has con-
ducted expeditions that have put in the shade all former exoduses
of nations and crusades. 3
Germany, like Russia, may be said to have begun the long process
of modernisation in the seventeenth century.4 By this time the basic
THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 51
nucleus was being formed in Prussia under the Hohenzollern family
as it was in Muscovy under the early Romanovs.' Frederick William,
the Great Elector (1640-88), set out on the long ascent which would
take his successors to the titular hegemony of the German Empire.
Assisted as was his contemporary Alexis Romanov (1645-76) by the
partial decline in strength of Sweden, Poland6 and the Austrian
Habsburg Empire, the Prussian monarch achieved a clearer and
stronger demarcation of his frontiers in the aftermath of the Treaty
of Westphalia (1648) bringing the Thirty Years War to an end.' If the
geographical area of concern was smaller for Frederick William than
for Alexis, the problem of traditional local loyalties was probably
greater, and the task of establishing overall control therefore formid-
able enough. The reduction of the Diets in Brandenburg, Cleves and
Prussia and of their centrifugal Estates together with the restoration
of the Privy Council pointed the way towards the establishment of
the centralised bureaucracy. The institution of the General War Di-
rectory was a culminating moment in the reform of the army. The
Junker class was fighting for the state and ruling it in a manner com-
parable to that which the dvorianstvo would assume in Russia. s Simi-
larly the imposition of serfdom was just one part of a dirigiste
economic policy applied by Hohenzollern as well as Romanov. The
basic Protestant ingredients of the Prussian ideology were receiving
an admixture of secular arguments which would soon be exported to
the East. 9
These included the propositions on government by such indi-
viduals as Leibniz and the Cameralist school of political philo-
sophers who were to exert a considerable influence on Peter the
Great. While such cultural transfer clearly indicates that Prussia was
in several respects in advance of Russia, an Eastern European type of
absolutism with features common to both of them and to some of
their neighbours was already clearly formed by 1700, and develop-
ment continued throughout the eighteenth century. Personalised
comparisons within such a context and also throwing light on it may
be made between Peter the Great (1682-1725) and Frederick William
I (1713-40) and then between Catherine the Great (1762-69) and
Frederick the Great (1740-86). The first pair shared a taste for hard
work and simplicity of life style involving frequency and closeness of
contact with their more humble subjects. And if Frederick William's
achievements could be called filling out the sketch of the Great
Elector,10 then Peter the Great could be said to have done something
similar for Alexis. The Prussian General Supreme Finance, War and
Domains Directory set up in 1723 approached the overall command
for which Russia also was striving. The collegial principles of ad-
ministration and a rigorous control from above which obstructed
them were to be found in both states, and Peter attempted - albeit

without success - to introduce the Landrat system into local govern-
ment. Russia's Table of Ranks- the basis of military and civil service
from 1722 right up to 1917 - was to a significant extent of Prussian
origin, and the dvoriane would henceforth be more explicitly
expected to function as did the Junkers. Economic policy, although
differing in some important respects such as land administration,
was directed principally in both cases towards the upkeep of the
armed forces. Eighty per cent of the revenues were expended in such
a manner at the beginning of the eighteenth century, with govern-
ment contracts for uniforms, weapons and munitions making an im-
portant contribution to industrial advance.11 The peasants were
ruthlessly exploited for these purposes and for the provision of rev-
enues in the framework of serfdom. Altogether, ifthe reign of Frede-
rick William I witnessed that 'complete intermarriage of army and
state' which constitutes the 'real meaning of militarism,'12 the same
could be said with scarcely less relevance to that of Peter the Great.
After the death of Peter, Eastern European absolutism continued
to consolidate itself with Prussia remaining the senior partner in cul-
tural refinement if not in sheer strength. For example, the Prussian
Academy of Sciences founded in 1700 was one of the models for its
Russian counterpart inaugurated in 1725 and provided many of its
first members. With some exaggeration it is true, the reign of Anna
(1730--40) has been looked upon as an exclusively German if not alto-
gether Prussian period in Russian history,13 while the reign of Eliza-
beth (174~ I) did not witness the complete departure of the
German influence for all the ascendancy of French fashion. Then,
Peter Ill's occupancy of the throne was prematurely brought to an
end, owing, at least partly, to his fanatical admiration for Frederick
the Great and all things Prussian. Catherine II had nothing like the
same veneration even though sometimes reputed to be 'Old Fritz' 's
daughter. If the two sovereigns did not have a blood relationship
they shared a taste for the arts and the philosophy of the Enlight-
enment, and their patronage contributed towards the spread of
awareness among their respective peoples,14 including in each case a
national self-consciousness formed to some extent in reaction to the
impact of French culture." Among his other achievements Frederick
was able to bring the Prussian Code near to completion, although it
was not actually made law until 1794, and if not arriving at con-
stitutional monarchy, he and his immediate successors could be said
to have introduced that Rechtsstaat that would be the basis for
further advances in the nineteenth century during and after the
Napoleonic interlude. Meanwhile Catherine failed in her attempt to
foster the composition of a new code oflaws for Russia, not so much
through her own lack of capability or persistence as because of her
adopted country's relative socio-political backwardness.
The physical superiority of the empire of the Romanovs over that
of the Hohenzollerns, most pronounced near the beginning of the
eighteenth century, was still evident towards the end of it. To a con-
siderable degree, this was the consequence of position and size,
Russia's remoteness from progressive developments in Europe being
compensated for by aloofness from some of its more bitter struggles,
and her huge distances as well as her inhospitable climate making a
major contribution towards the downfall of invaders including
Napoleon. But both states expanded their power and territory to an
enormous extent during this period, largely because the decline of
their neighbours, already detectable in the seventeenth century, had
now gone much further. The outstanding gains were Russia's acqui-
sition ofthe Baltic territories from Sweden followed by a drive to the
Crimea against the Turks, and Prussia's seizure from Austria of Sile-
sia. Having tried to bolster up Poland, the two rising powers then co-
operated on its dismemberment, causing David Hume to lament that
'the two most civilised nations, the English and the French, should be
in decline; and the barbarians, the Goths and Vandals of Germany
and Russia, should be rising in power and renown' .16
The Seven Years War, an important part of this process in Europe,
was also accompanied by the struggle between France and Britain
for India and North America. The former's losses contributed to
problems which resulted in the French Revolution, while the latter's
gains added to the economic growth culminating in the Industrial
Revolution. While this dual transformation rightly shifts the histori-
cal focus of attention on Western Europe for much of the period
1789-1848, we must not forget that it formed an important
watershed for the course of development in Central and Eastern
Europe, too. For Germany there was short-term collapse before
French might, but also a far-reaching set of reforms which laid the
ground for greater resurgence. Stein and Hardenberg between them
during the years 1806-16 replaced the Prussian General Directory by
a more flexible and up-to-date system of military and civil adminis-
tration and emancipated the peasants. Neither Frederick William II
(1786-97) nor Frederick William III (1797-1840) stood much in the
way of such changes and even welcomed some of them. Meanwhile
Alexander I of Russia (1801-25) was encouraged by the victory over
Napoleon in the campaign of 1812 to reject the advice of Speransky
and other liberal advisers for reforms comparable to those which
were taking place in Prussia, and his brother and successor, Nicholas
I, as we shall see, was even more of a conservative. Short-term suc-
cess against foreign invasion was to contribute considerably in the
long run to tremendous problems, intensifying Russia's back-

wardness.
The backwardness was relative, and has sometimes been applied
too strongly as a label to Central and Eastern European societies be-
cause of the persistence in them of the agrarian mode of life and the
absolutist form of government.17 In an international comparative
setting, the backwardness does not always appear great and from
some points of view was at times barely if at all existent. Let us con-
sider one of the central features of the label, the institution of serf-
dom, which accompanied the predominance of agriculture.
Certainly, it is true that serfdom was introduced into Central and
Eastern Europe at a time when it had largely disappeared from the
West. But the institution was not set up because of the absence of a
middle class or of capitalism from the regions concerned, but rather
because of the preponderant influence in them of the landed nobility,
usually in alliance with the crown, as was the case in both Prussia and
Russia. ls Moreover the new serfdom was not the same as the old.
E. D. Domar has argued that there is a 'positive statistical corre-
lation' in any society between available land and available labour,
and that a relative shortage of workers tends to produce some form
of involuntary servitude. 19 And so it was because there were no more
than 2 million and 15 million people respectively in Prussia and
Russia in the late seventeenth century (as opposed to about 5 mil-
lions in England and 20 millions in France) that peasant mobility had
to be curtailed as soon as the control of the central government was
strong enough. Moreover this was also the period during which the
maritime powers of Western Europe were beginning to take full ad-
vantage of serfdom's sister institution, slavery. Without it, neither
the Netherlands nor Great Britain would have been able to establish
their capitalist prosperity. Denied full outlets to the Atlantic centre
of such prosperity, the states of Central and Eastern Europe could
not look outwards for their wealth to anything like the same extent,
but had rather to turn inwards and squeeze it out of their own people.
Such recourse, it must be emphasised, did not mean lack of develop-
ment. The economy in Prussia and Russia was not irretrievably far
behind that in at least some of the more advanced countries of
Europe towards the end of the eighteenth century. Indeed the accept-
ance of economic liberalism contributed to the emancipation of the
Prussian peasantry; Russia was the greatest iron producer in the
world before the end of the eighteenth century and exported large
quantities of it to Britain.20
The other principal characteristic of Central and Eastern Euro-
pean states was their absolutism, military-bureaucratic and autocra-
tic at a time when parliamentary democracy was being grafted on to
constitutional monarchy in Britain and republican revolution was
reasserting itself in France. Here again, the backwardness recedes if
we look at it in a wider context. British parliamentary democracy was
not complete before the concession of equal female suffrage in
1918-28, and the ideals of French republicanism were put aside
during the Second Empire of Napoleon III. Some kind of absolutism
was the norm in Europe at least rather than the exception throughout
much of the nineteenth century. Already by 1848, according to Marx
and Engels, the comparative situation was such that they could de-
clare in the Communist Manifesto:
The Communists turn their attention chiefly to Germany, because

that country is on the eve of a bourgeois revolution that is bound
to be carried out under more advanced conditions of European
civilisation and with a much more developed proletariat than that
of England was in the seventeenth, and of France in the eighteenth
century, and because the bourgeois revolution in Germany will be
but the prelude to an immediately following proletarian revol-
ution.21
Helped by the reforms of 1806--16 to regain and develop its strength

sufficiently to exploit the opportunities presented by the Congress of
Vienna (in particular the gains on the Rhine), Prussia had made
enough use of its alliance with Metternich's Austria and of the
expanding Customs Union after 1834 to be in a position by the
middle of the century to make a bid for the leadership of the move-
ment towards German unification. Frederick William IV (1840-61)
made a distinctive contribution towards the establishment of Prus-
sian hegemony;22 but of course, if we are to speak in personalised
terms, we must say more of Bismarck later. And we must not forget
that the movement towards unification was accompanied by social
changes which were indeed of a large-enough scale to encourage
Marx and Engels.
Bourgeois revolution did not come to Germany as the Communist
Manifesto predicted; rather it appeared to be following a course of
peaceful modernisation. For this reason, so far as they entertained
the idea of change at all, Nicholas I of Russia (1825-55) and his en-
tourage looked to Prussia as a state for emulation, notwithstanding
the pressures making for growing hostility between the two states
after 1848. 23 Fortified not only by its suppression of internal dissi-
dence in the years of the French Revolution and victory over Napo-
leon in 1812 but also by its leading participation in the formation and
activity of the Holy Alliance, tsarism had found little reason to feel
that it was in need of improvement. 24 True, Nicholas was somewhat
disconcerted by the conscience-stricken nobles who led the abortive

Decembrist Revolt of 1825 at the commencement of his reign and
downright perturbed at the prospect of the fever of 1848 spreading
into Holy Russia towards the end of it. He sent troops to suppress the
Hungarian Revolution in 1849 and was fully prepared to send them
over to the Rhine. But there was no strong cause for tsarism to doubt
the strength of its 'patriarchal-feudal absolutism' until the fiasco of
the Crimean War.25
However much it might have appeared in immediate retrospect to
have been folly and blunder on all sides, a longer perspective on the
Crimean War makes its significance look more than accidental. For
Europe as a whole, it marked a key point in the development of Rus-
sophobia and in the realignment of the 'balance of power'. Almost
unnoticed, a non-belligerent Prussia was creeping outwards to
dominate the centre of the continent, while the Russian threat was
now most marked in Central Asia. For Russia itself, the national
humiliation was to lead to a final loss of that over-confidence born of
1812 and to the realisation that reforms in the armed forces and in the
supportive social and political systems would be necessary if tsarism
was to continue to survive in an increasingly dangerous international
setting.
By the time of the Crimean War, too, although in spite of tsar ism
rather than because of it, the process of modernisation had gone far
enough for the institution of serfdom to appear increasingly irrele-
vant, while even the committees set up by the tsar were not com-
pletely impervious to both free trade and humanitarian arguments. 26
And so, with the emancipation of the peasants in 1861 and other
reforms, Alexander II (1855-81) took the first small steps towards
transforming his people into fully fledged citizens and his govern-
ment into a constitutional monarchy.
The emancipation of the American slaves in 1863-5 was more than
a chronological coincidence, and an even wider context taking in the
Taiping Revolt in China could add to our understanding of the end
of Russian serfdom. Several observers including Lenin have argued
that it was at least conceivable for Russia at this point to have taken
the American road to modernisation as well as the Prussian. 27 That
is, society could have been composed of free farmers rather than
being dominated by Junker-type landlords. We shall say more about
this below, for the American model was adopted mostly by the oppo-
sition; tsarist ministers tended to believe that the Prussian model was
more appropriate for Russia, in particular for political arrange-
ments, but for economic policy too.
Such a choice was being made partly because of domestic circum-
stances, partly because of the closer proximity of Prussia and its great
success as unifier of Germany, and partly because of the fame of its
outstanding statesman. Certainly Bismarck made a distinctive per-
sonal contribution to German development, but few historians
would now want to maintain the cult of personality surrounding him
which every schoolboy seems reluctant to abandon. In the first place
even Bismarck had to work within the framework of the polity that
he himself helped to construct with the aid of the great military
victories of 1866 and 1870; the constitution of 1871 produced a
Reichstag which may have been less than a parliament but was more
than a 'fig leaf covering the nakedness of absolutism'. While the
Reichstag on more than one occasion restricted Bismarck's freedom
of action from below, Kaisers William I (1861-88) and William II
(1888-1918) and their largely military entourage often impeded it
from above. 28 Secondly the greatest economic surge forward took
place after the pilot had been dropped, in the 1890s. Thirdly, in the
German case as in others, the industrial and other features of mod-
ernisation were the product of socio-economic circumstances evolv-
ing over the centuries as well as more immediate political stratagems.
Growth with a sufficient measure of control was achieved by an
alliance between the Junker landowners and the middle-class indus-
trialists as well as by a government basically responsive to it. This
combination, seen clearly at work in the switch to protectionist
tariffs after 1879, remained the basis of the Wilhelminine Empire for
all the subsequent strains that sometimes threatened to undermine
it. 29
The population stood at about 67 millions by 1914 (well under half
that of Russia). Manpower potential was absorbed sufficiently for
most ofthe time, although indebted peasants were forced off the land
either to leave Germany altogether or to work in towns. By 1914 less
than 40 per cent of the population were in communities offewer than
2000 as opposed to probably over 80 per cent in Russia. Figures for
railway expansion, coal and iron production and for the newer en-
gineering and chemical industries were all impressive. Banking tech-
niques had become appropriately sophisticated and included the
financial management of companies and cartels through the agency
of the investment bank, which has been called 'perhaps the greatest
organisational innovation' of the nineteenth century. 30
While vast fortunes were being made by the few, very modest re-
wards indeed were the lot of most Germans. On the other hand the
possibility of at least a measure of economic advancement presented
itself to a substantial number, and those who realised the possibility
joined the swelling ranks of at least the partially satisfied middle
class.31 Moreover the social legislation belatedly put through by Bis-
marck after 1881 and enlarged by his successors afforded at least a
minimum of relief for those whose share of the national cake was not
more than a few crumbs. These two factors contributed to the com-
promising nature of the Social Democratic Party (SPD), which
Eduard Bernstein reflected at least as much as he promoted in his re-
visionist Presuppositions of Socialism and the Tasks of Social Demo-
cracy, to give its English title, first published in 1898.32 Bernstein
could refer to British precedent as well as German experience in ar-
guing that improvements in the lot of the proletariat were leading it
in the direction of reformism rather than revolution, towards a trade
union rather than an extremist political consciousness. Further
safety-valves for social discontent were constituted by emigration
and expansion beyond unification, the phenomenon that Wehler has
called 'social imperialism'33 the export, as it were, of domestic strife,
as well as people and capital. The extent of proletarian enthusiasm in
this outward direction if limited contributed to the abandonment of
its internationalist commitments by the SPD in 1914.
In this summary account stability has perhaps been overplayed
and stress given insufficient attention. It is true that such measures as
the lower agrarian import duties (to gain lower tariffs for the export
of industrial goods) put strains on the Junker-bourgeois alliance in
the 1890s.34 It is also true that 'social imperialism' even in full flood
could not completely drown internal protest from the left or even
cries of anguish and accusation (including already a pronounced ele-
ment of anti-semitism) from the right. Moreover expansion of
German interests in Turkey and elsewhere at the same time as
increasing reference to a Central Europe dominated by Germany
alarmed potential enemies while patriots (among whom were mili-
taristic extremists in court circles) still feared that Germany was
being denied her proper 'place in the sun'.35 Such national and inter-
national stress contributed to the advent of the First World War.
But for several years before 1914 these tensions had not appeared
sufficiently marked for Russian admirers to drop their recom-
mendation of Germany as a model for tsarism to follow. The chief
candidates for a Russian Bismarck, who would of course be subject
to comparable restricting circumstances, were Witte and Stolypin,
whose periods in office were roughly divided by the Revolution of
1905. Sergei Witte. minister of finance at the turn of the century, pro-
duced in 1899 a secret memorandum on the industrialisation of
Imperial Russia. In this illuminating work Witte actually made more
specific reference to the other model:
We must give the country such industrial perfection as has been

reached by the United States of America. which firmly bases its
prosperity on two pillars - agriculture and industry. 36
But the spirit of the memorandum is far less that of American laissez-
faire than that of Germanic dirigisme, the work with which it is most
closely comparable being Friedrich List's The National System of
Political Economy. Witte wanted Russia to cease to be an agricul-
tural client of the more advanced West and to become its own self-
reliant 'metropolis'. For this aim to be achieved, a high tariff and
heavy taxes would have to be accompanied by the import of large
amounts offoreign capital, guaranteed by the gold standard. And, of
course, an important directing part would be played by the state.
During the 1890s Russia like Germany had experienced an econ-
omic boom of impressive proportions, but was less advanced and
therefore subject to greater social strain. Some of the desiderata pro-
pounded by Witte had already been met, including the injection into
the economy of much foreign capital. Complex financial and indus-
trial arrangements were being developed to a degree sufficiently high
for some analysts to believe that peaceful modernisation was taking
place. 37 With no other foreign influence but money and expertise,
such a process may indeed have taken place in the fullness of time.
But in an age of highly competitive world imperialism, time was in
short supply. And forcing the pace meant trouble at home and
abroad. Domestic unrest was building up among peasants and work-
ers, the armed forces and the nationalities, while members of the
nobility and bourgeoisie both believed that a policy of vigorous
expansionism had to be pursued. A Russian version of 'social impe-
rialism' was succinctly put in the famous remark of PI eve, the minis-
ter of the interior, that 'To hold back the revolution, we need a small
victorious war.'38 The disastrous conflict with Japan in 1904 pro-
duced what it was hoped it would help to avert, and the Revolution
of 1905 ensued. Persuaded by Witte that the only alternatives were
military dictatorship or a constitution, and that the former would be
difficult to impose owing to troubles in the army and navy, Nicholas
I I (1894-1917) conceded the latter. 39
This concession, in any case grudging and limited and soon par-
tially rescinded, did not change the minds of many leading Russians
about the course of development to be followed. Even though the
Duma had been set up, the tsar could retain at least as much real
power as the kaiser, and other aspects of the national life might be
undisturbed. Geoffrey Hosking talks of the 'imitation, conscious or
unconscious, of the Bismarckian mode, and of the rhetoric of the
National Liberals in the Reichstag'. He asserts that 'Germany was
the model to which the centre and the right in Russian politics tended
to look as an example of the successful integration of the auth-
oritarian monarchy, an imperial patriotism and parliamentary insti-
tutions.'40 Witte's successor as a potential Russian Bismarck, Peter

Stolypin, necessarily followed many of his predecessor's policies, but
gave particular attention to the peasant question. He believed that
the modernisation of Russia would be most efficiently and speedily
achieved by the formation of a 'broadly based class of capitalist far-
mers on the American model' ,41 although his programme was by no
means completely detrimental to the interests of the Russian Junker-
type landlords, for all their protestations to the contrary. Between
1906 and 1914 even more progress was achieved than in the 1890s,
although the overall mode, even in the economic sphere, remained
less American than German. Gerschenkron says that 'Russia on the
eve of the war was well on the way towards a westernisation or, per-
haps more precisely, a Germanisation of its industrial growth. '42
Before he was assassinated in 1911 Stolypin argued that, for his
programme to succeed, twenty years of peace were necessary. In both
the internal and external situation of Russia in the early twentieth
century, peace was not to be found. In the first place, because of what
Trotsky called 'combined development',,3 tsarism both gained ad-
vantages and suffered disadvantages from the timing of the culmi-
nation of its modernisation process. On the one hand it could borrow
not only money but also the most advanced forms of technological
expertise. On the other its proletariat was formed too rapidly for it to
be able to develop a trade union consciousness, and its government
was obliged, for a transitional period at least, to be the client of its
more mature seniors elsewhere in Europe. Already in 1882 Marx and
Engels looked upon Russia as ripe for revolution, if not of the fully
fledged bourgeois type, still less the proletarian. 44 By 1902, in his
What Is To Be Done? Lenin had moved several stages forward in an
analysis which was also a counter-attack against the Bernsteinian
and other heresies. Lenin argued that a political party with appro-
priate organisation and correct theory could lead the proletariat and
the peasantry away from compromise to confrontation.44 Coming
near to realisation in 1905 and after, Lenin's diagnosis - now refined
in other writings - was to achieve it in full measure in 1917.
Before then the Russian and German empires had joined together
in August 1914 in a combat that would be mortal for both of them.
Such an eventuality had been foreseen in February 1914 by several
observers, among them the tsarist minister P. N. Durnovo, who
argued in the face of growing pressures for war in the two empires
that their interests were not incompatible and that war could bring
them only great unrest, even revolution. 4s After the outbreak of hos-
tilities, assertion of racial superiority that was barely latent before in
this correspondence became completely explicit in such remarks as
those by the German Foreign Secretary Jagow in a memorandum of
2 September 1915:
Hitherto the giant Russian Empire, with its inexhaustible human

material, its possibilities of economic recovery, its expansive ten-
dencies, has brooded over Western Europe like a nightmare. In
spite of the veneer of Western civilisation given it by Peter the
Great and the German dynasty which followed him, its basically
Byzantine-Oriental culture separates it from the Latin culture of
the West, and the Russian race, part Slav, part Mongol, is foreign
to the Germanic-Latin peoples of the West. 46
By the end of the war Durnovo's gloomiest forecasts had been shown
to be all too correct. Tsarism collapsed at the beginning of 1917, and
the Provisional Government was so weak that starker alternatives
than those of 1905 were already posed, of military right-wing or pro-
letarian left-wing dictatorship.47 The October Revolution con-
stituted a clear choice, but several years of bitter civil war and
intervention were to ensue before Lenin's government was fully es-
tablished. And having dropped the Social Democratic label as an ex-
pression of their hatred for Bernsteinian revisionism and the
abandonment in 1914 by the German Social Democrats of inter-
national socialism, the Soviet Communists, like Marx and Engels in
1848, turned their attention chiefly to Germany, hoping for a revol-
ution there which would spread to envelop the whole world. The fail-
ure of the 1918-19 revolution in Germany left the Weimar Republic
to clear up the mess compounded by the inequities of Versailles,
while in the Soviet Union the government was pushed away from
hopes of immediate world revolution towards the concept of 'social-
ism in one country'.
These developments are more centrally the concern of the second
and third parts of this work, and will be enlarged upon there. They
have been summarily introduced at this juncture to show where the
Prussian path of modernisation was leading and how time did not
allow Russia completely to take it. The essential point to be drawn
from this exposition is that in this or any other kind of modernisation
the fourth dimension is paramount; that, while models of modern-
isation and its factor analysis contribute to our understanding, the
concrete manifestation of the process in each society is governed
mostly by its chronological setting. Thus, although Russia had gone
through the early stages of modernisation sufficiently for it to be one
of the great powers of the eighteenth century, it fell behind during the
years of the dual (French and Industrial) Revolution. The giant
brooding over Europe like a nightmare during the nineteenth cen-
tury, to revert to the terminology of Jagow, could not bring its threat
to the point of waking reality, for all the efforts made at the turn of
the twentieth century to emulate its more successful neighbour. For
by then the full process of modernisation had been carried out in
Germany for some time, even if autarchy had not been achieved.
And so, although the impact of imperialist competition and the First
World War was too much for both variations of Eastern European
absolutism, the more mature level of German development meant
that its ruling classes could withstand the onslaught of revolution,
while Russia succumbed to it at a critical moment of 'combined de-
velopment'. That was not the end of the story, for the challenge
issued by the Russian Revolution might be immediately resisted but
could not be ignored in the longer term. In a world where Leninist
communism faced Wilsonian democracy, the pressures on the suc-
cessors to the Romanovs and the Hohenzollerns and the respective
social elites would be intense indeed, and would force them to use
newly available means to take the coercion of the imperialist states to
a new peak of intensity.
We must turn now to consider the roots of Wilsonian democracy,
which will also give us the opportunity to discuss the second of the
two paths that Lenin suggested tsarist society could have taken: the
American. We have already seen that there were American elements
in the thinking of both Witte and Stolypin, but our search must go far
beyond them, back at least to the eighteenth century. For it was then
that the great and comparable potential of the future superpowers
was first discerned. One of Catherine the Great's many corre-
spondents, Baron Melchior von Grimm, wrote to the empress soon
after the outbreak of the French Revolution:
Two empires will then share all the advantages of civilisation, of

the power of genius, of letters, of arms and industry: Russia on the
eastern side and America ... on the western side, and we other
peoples of the nucleus will be too degraded, too debased, to know
otherwise than by a vague and stupid tradition what we have
been. 48
And some years earlier, not long after the commencement of the
American Revolution, the American diplomat Silas Deane had fore-
cast that Great Britain would share world hegemony with the United
States and Russia, asserting that 'Russia like America is a new state
and rises with the most astonishing rapidity'.49 Indeed the writing
was clear enough on the walls of Europe at the dawn of the nine-
teenth century for those who chose to look, but it was not until some
decades later that the message positively obtruded itself on the public
consciousness. Even in the mid-1830s Alexis de Tocqueville could
claim that these
... two great nations [had grown up] unnoticed; and while the at-
tention of mankind was directed elsewhere, they have suddenly
assumed a most prominent place among the nations; and the
world learned their existence and their greatness at almost the
same time.
De Tocqueville's further remarks may be taken as the basis for a dis-

cussion of these outstanding developments. He wrote:
All other nations seem to have nearly reached their natural limits,
and only to be charged with the maintenance of their power; but
these are still in the act of growth; all the others are stopped, or
continue to advance with extreme difficulty; these are preceding
with ease and with celerity along a path to which the human eye
can assign no term. The American struggles against the natural
obstacles which oppose him; the adversaries of the Russian are
men; the former combats the wilderness and savage life; the latter,
civilisation with all its weapons and arts; the conquests of the one
are therefore gained by the ploughshare; those of the other by the
sword. The Anglo-American relies upon personal interest to ac-
complish his ends, and gives free scope to the unguided exertions
and common sense of the citizens; the Russian centres all the auth-
ority of society in a single arm; the principal arm of the former is
freedom; and of the latter servitude. Their starting point is differ-
ent, and their courses are not the same; yet each of them seems to
be marked out by the will of Heaven to sway the destinies of half
the globe. '0
De Tocqueville is impressive in his broad sweep, but inaccurate in

nearly every particular. Many other nations may have reached their
natural limits (although Prussia is an obvious important exception),
but few were 'charged with the maintenance of their power' only, for
imperial expansion was far from the limits of its extent. Granted, the
spectacle of the United States preparing for the bustle of the Roar-
ing Forties could hardly have failed to impress a visitor accustomed
to the slower pace and smaller scale of Restoration France, nor
equally could a percipient European over in North America have
been less conscious of the expansionist Russian realities behind the
mystical maunderings of the Holy Alliance - indeed distance may
have lent more terror to the view. But de Tocqueville was looking at
Russia too much from the standpoint of the West of his native conti-
nent and at America too much from the East of the continent that he
was visiting. Indians on the frontier could not have agreed that the
Americans were carrying on a struggle against 'natural obstacles' or
'the wilderness and savage life' with the assistance of the plough-
share. Russians crossing Siberian wastes in winter would not have
gained much comfort from the information that their adversaries
were men, and also would not readily have believed that they were
engaged in combat against 'civilisation with all its weapons and arts'.
Mexicans could have been forgiven for doubting that they were
threatened by nothing more than the ploughshare, while Georgians
and at least a few of the other peoples of Transcaucasia would have
been unjustified in any assertion that they had succumbed to the
sword. The Anglo-American did not rely exclusively on personal in-
terest when the federal government's land policy could be manipu-
lated for private or corporate gain, to give just one example.
Russians were likely to feel the weight of more than one arm in the
course of a lifetime, and some of them were very much involved in
private enterprise. Black slaves on the plantations of the South and
white wage slaves in New England factories did not believe that their
masters were principally motivated by thoughts of freedom, and
Cossacks in addition to an increasing number of peasants were not
profoundly conscious of being sunk in servitude. The rest of de
Tocqueville's argument is more nebulous and therefore less open to
comment; it undoubtedly contains a measure oftruth.
This somewhat facetious exercise in criticism has not been carried
out solely with the intention of scoring points off an otherwise often
incisive political analyst of 150 years ago. It is principally directed at
the congratulatory justification of expansion at the time and even
more at a double historiographical standard that persists today. On
the one hand even such a searching writer as Emerson could be ecsta-
tic about American expansion in the mid-1840s:
We cannot look on the freedom of this country, in connection with

its youth, without a presentiment that here shall laws and insti-
tutions exist on some scale to the majesty of nature. To men legis-
lating for the area betwixt the two oceans, betwixt the snows and
the tropics, somewhat of the grandeur of nature will infuse itself
into the code .... It seems so easy for America to inspire and
express the most expansive and humane spirit; new-born, free,
healthful, strong, the land of the labourer, of the democrat, of the
philanthropist, of the believer, of the saint, she should speak for
the human race. 51
Russians could be equally lyrical at this time about their own move-
ment into Asia, although a more sober analysis came some twenty
years later from the chancellor, Prince Alexander Gorchakov, who
considered that the state in his charge resembled' all civilised States
which are brought into contact with half-savage, nomad popula-
tions, possessing no fixed social organisation'. Gorchakov's expla-
nation was set out in the following manner:
In such cases it always happens that the more civilised State is

forced, in the interest of the security of its frontier and its commer-
cial relations, to exercise a certain ascendancy over those whom
their turbulent and unsettled character make more undesirable
neighbours. First, there are raids and acts of pillage to be put
down. To put a stop to them, the tribes on the frontier have to be
reduced to a state of more or less perfect submission. This result
once attained, these tribes take to more peaceful habits, but are in
their turn exposed to the attacks of the more distant tribes.
The State is bound to defend them against these depredations
and to punish those who commit them. Hence the necessity of dis-
tant, costly, and periodically recurring expeditions against an
enemy whom his social organisation makes it impossible to seize.
If, the robbers once punished, the expedition is withdrawn, the
lesson is soon forgotten; its withdrawal put down to weakness. It is
a peculiarity of Asiatics to respect nothing but visible and palpable
force; the moral force of reason and of the interests of civilisation
has as yet no hold upon them. The work has then always to be done
over again from the beginning.
In order to put a stop to this stage of permanent disorder, forti-
fied posts are established in the midst of these hostile tribes, and an
influence is brought to bear upon them which reduces them by
degrees to a state of more or less forced submission. But soon beyond
this second line other still more distant tribes come in their turn to
threaten the same dangers and necessitate the same measures of re-
pression. The State thus finds itself forced to choose one of two alter-
natives, either to give up this endless labour and to abandon its
frontier to perpetual disturbance, rendering all prosperity, all
security, all civilisation an impossibility, or, on the other hand, to
plunge deeper and deeper into barbarous countries, where the diffi-
culties and expenses increase with every step in advance.
Such has been the fate of every country which has found itself in
a similar position. The United States in America, France in Alge-
ria, Holland in her Colonies, England in India - all have been irre-
sistibly forced, less by ambition than by imperious necessity, into
this onward march, where the greatest difficulty is to know when
to stop ....'2
In fact, while all these imperial powers did indeed have elements of
their expansionist policy in common, the two under present con-
sideration shared some ofthem to the exclusion of the others.
Empire-builders everywhere believed that they themselves pos-
sessed 'the moral force of reason and of the interests of civilisation',
but only the Americans and the Russians were faced with the prob-
lem of land-based empire which gave particular force to
Gorchakov's variation of the 'domino' theory. Neither Washington
nor Moscow was under threat of direct attack from the Indians or
their Asian cousins, but direct contiguity with frontier regions still
lent colour to concepts of what Gorchakov called Russia's 'special
mission' and Americans had become accustomed by this time to call
their 'manifest destiny'. True, Russia's sense of security was much
more fragile than America's owing to the presence on the western
frontier of powerful 'civilised neighbours'. And although colonis-
ation, which the great historian Kliuchevsky called the dominant
theme of Russian history, was even more central to the American ex-
perience, the nature of the process was very different in the two cases,
with the Russians starting at the centre (first Kiev, then Moscow)
and the Americans originating across oceans (to begin with the
Atlantic, later the Pacific).
But a further feature common to both societies, which bound them
much more closely than the differences separating them, has become
more apparent only since the Second World War. For while all other
empires of the developed world were dismantled, those of Russia and
America remained. That was the fact of the matter, but it was dis-
guised for several reasons, all facilitated by the landlocked nature of
the original formations. Perhaps most important, locked in the
dangerous embrace of the cold war though they were, the emergent
superpowers were tacitly co-operating in the break-up of the other
empires, to their common advantage. In the accomplishment of this
task, they used the rhetoric of their respective ideologies to the full,
and this involved the denial by each of its own imperialism at the
same time as the attribution of what had become a label of oppro-
brium to the other. American patriots accused the Russians of en-
slaving the peoples of the other republics in the Union, all easily
identifiable around the periphery. Soviet apologists attacked the
American treatment of Indians, Mexicans and Blacks, conspicuous
enough through the colour of their skin where not in a specific geo-
graphical location. Historians joined in such attacks, but also did
what they could to marshal a defence. For some time the spokesmen
for the heirs of the tsarist empire put forward the 'lesser evil' argu-
ment, which was based on the assertion that it was better for the
nationalities to be subject to what would become the fraternal and
progressive association of the USSR rather than becoming attached
to another empire or remaining in primitive backwardness. The
'lesser evil' concept was later replaced by that of the 'friendship of
peoples' which suggested that, while tsarist officers and officials were
implementing their master's colonial policy, friendly contacts were
made at the lower social level ready for fuller development after the
Revolution. Less concerned for ideological consistency in their plu-
ralist society, American historians have put forward a number of dif-
ferent explanations. The sins of the fathers may be expiated by the
full confession of the sons: the enslavement of Blacks, the conquest
of Mexicans and the slaughter of Indians were all disgusting epi-
sodes, but the situation with regard to all three groups is now better
and still improving. Alternatively, Blacks were enabled through sla-
very to adapt from African tribalism to what later became full par-
ticipation in American citizenship; the Mexican government was
unstable and was not really capable of administering the area from
Texas to California; and Indians were few in number with an anti-
quated way oflife, unable to make full use of the natural riches in the
vast regions through which they wandered without purpose; and so
on. In neither the American nor the Soviet case is there much sugges-
tion that the past might be unravelled, so to speak, for this could only
result in the complete disintegration of the USA and the USSR, and
the loss of their respective influences beyond their borders, in, for
example, Latin America or Eastern Europe.
Imperial expansion was one of the most notable activities of
America and Russia in the nineteenth century, and the historiogra-
phical double standard is perhaps most evident in its application to
this subject. But discussion of the American path to modernity is
more directly concer'led with the pattern of development ac-
companying expansion, and so we must now address ourselves to
discussion of this allied topic, for which a good point of departure is
emancipation. At the time, since the Russian Proclamation came
first in 1861 and the USA was involved in the Civil War, Northern
journals gave it a welcome all the warmer for the propaganda ad-
vantage that it bestowed.
The Liberator declared:
The Manifesto of the Tsar is throughout in most striking contrast

with the recent manifestos of the leaders of the rebel slaveholders
in this country.
The A tlantic Monthly asked:
Who could have ventured to predict that at the end of one hundred
years, the American nations should be engaged in a civil contest,

having for its object, on the part of those who began it, the per-
petuation and extension of slavery, while Russia should not be
threatened with such a contest because her government, an auto-
cracy, had abolished serfdom?
And looking in the other chronological direction, Harper's asserted:
Russia, like the United States, is a nation of the future. Like the
United States, Russia is in the agonies of a terrible transition; the
Russian serfs, like the American Negroes, are receiving their
liberty; and the Russian boiars, like the Southern slaveowners, are
mutinous at the loss of their property. To two such peoples, firmly
bound together by an alliance as well as by traditional sympathy
and good feeling, what would be impossible? An alliance between
Russia and the United States at the present time would relieve
both of us from all apprehensions of foreign interference. 53
As the smoke of the Civil War lifted and the gloom of their ignorance
of the Russian situation cleared, American journalists became less
enthusiastic about the policies of the tsar, partaking indeed of the
Russophobia that gripped their colleagues in Western Europe.
In the years following 1865 both emancipations were revealed to
be far less radical measures than at first appeared. The Blacks soon
found that the award to them of the ideal of the liberal philosophers-
freedom without definition - was of little use. The 'Day of Jubilo'
had given very few of them as much as 'two acres and a mule', and
put nearly all of them heavily in debt to either their former master or
a new one - storekeeper or company. Similarly the muzhiks were
usually awarded an insufficiency of land, in many regions often un-
able to attain complete independence from the landlord or the com-
mune. There was economic progress, however, in both societies, and
at least some of the former slaves and serfs shared in it as the societies
became more stratified in the wake of capitalist development.
But even those who might be expected to have derived great bene-
fit from it - the American White farmers - did not. It was not until
the end of the nineteenth century that agriculture was providing a
good return for investment in the USA with any consistency. Some
of the reasons for this have been exaggerated: falling prices, railroad
manipulations, usurious rates of loan. The world setting, although
not fully appreciated by nearly all of those who suffered from its
market fluctuations, was probably at least as significant. Certainly
the myth of the covered wagon taking the enterprising family to
carve prosperity out of the wilderness has been too much exposed for
it to deserve its all too healthy longevity. The Homestead Act and
other legislation did work to the advantage of the corporation rather
than the individual, and the path of the 'free farmer' was by no means
as smooth as it might have seemed to some of its advocates in
Russia. 54
There, too, global circumstances were of considerable influence
and they combined with the powerful legacy of serfdom and the half-
hearted nature of emancipation to give the Russian farmer a large
number of problems which made for deep discontent. Radical reme-
dies of both domestic and foreign origin were prescribed, often not
by the peasants but by well-wishers from other classes. Many of these
may be put under the all-embracing heading of Populism, a phenom-
enon common to a considerable number of societies undergoing the
process of modernisation, and usually a mixture of nostalgic retro-
spection towards a golden age and a fervent looking forward to a
Utopia. In the Russian case argument was based mostly on the way
of life of the traditional peasant commune, which was believed to
contain within it the necessary ingredients for a future fraternal com-
monwealth. There was much more talk than action, and most of it by
repentant or conscience-stricken nobles and members of the middle
class.
American Populism was a genuinely popular movement, the
consequence of a more advanced level of education, flexible society
and open form of politics. American protesters were also confronted
by a higher degree of industrialisation and urbanisation, which to-
gether gave them both a formidable problem and a vehicle for their
protest. For the myth of the frontier was already strong by the time of
its official closure in 1890, and the values of sturdy, independent til-
lers of the soil were aggressively adopted by patriotic town dwellers.
Many urban voters joined in the Populist crusades of William Jen-
nings Bryan in 1896 and 1900 because they believed that they should
unite with other 'small men' such as their 'country cousins' in the
struggle against a big business which was now rampant in town and
country alike, undermining old American virtues in a savage and
ruthless manner. And not a few of them had some experience of rural
life, for the hundreds of thousands swelling the population of the
cities were by no means exclusively new immigrants, as another myth
of American history has led people to believe. The factory and the
tenement were safety-valves for the discontent of multitudes of
former farmers, albeit imperfect ones, since new grievances merged
with the old rather than supplanting them.
By the end of the nineteenth century industry had overtaken agri-
culture, and farming folk were now in a minority. The vast potential
of the USA as both a source of natural resources and a market for
manufactured goods had been exploited by the 'robber barons' - the

Carnegies and the Rockefellers - with a degree of success which
would have made the Marx and Engels ofthe Communist Manifesto
gasp. If the builders of the ancient pyramids and aqueducts and the
medieval cathedrals had already been surpassed in 1848, by what dis-
tance had they been overtaken in 1900? Not that America's rapid rise
went unnoticed by the Communist founding fathers, as they clearly
showed in their preface to the Russian edition of the Manifesto in
1882, considering the sequel to 1848:
It was the time when Russia constituted the last great reserve of all
European reaction, when the United States absorbed the surplus
proletarian forces of Europe through immigration. Both countries
provided Europe with raw materials and were at the same time
markets for the sale of its industrial products. At that time both
were, therefore, in one way or another, pillars ofthe existing Euro-
peanorder.
How very different today! Precisely European immigration
fitted North America for a gigantic agricultural production,
whose competition is shaking the very foundations of European
landed property - large and small. In addition it enabled the
United States to exploit its tremendous industrial resources with
an energy and on a scale that must shortly break the industrial
monopoly of Western Europe, and especially of England, existing
up to now. Both circumstances react in revolutionary manner
upon America itself. Step by step the small and middle land-
ownership of the farmers, the basis of the whole political con-
stitution, is succumbing to the competition of giant farms;
simultaneously, a mass proletariat and a fabulous concentration
of capital are developing for the first time in the industrial regions.
And now Russia! During the Revolution of 1848-49 not only
the European princes, but the European bourgeois as well, found
their only salvation from the proletariat, just beginning to awaken,
in Russian intervention. The tsar was proclaimed the chief of
European reaction. Today he is a prisoner of war ofthe revolution,
in Gatchina, and Russia forms the vanguard of revolutionary
action in Europe.
The Communist Manifesto had as its object the proclamation of
the inevitably impending dissolution of modern bourgeois prop-
erty. But in Russia we find, face to face with the rapidly developing
capitalist swindle and bourgeois landed property, just beginning
to develop, more than half the land owned in common by the pea-
sants. Now the question is: Can the Russian commune, though
greatly undermined, yet a form of primeval common ownership of
land, pass directly to the higher form of communist common
ownership?
Or, on the contrary, must it first pass through the same process
of dissolution as constitutes the historical evolution ofthe West?
The only answer to that possible today is this: If the Russian
Revolution becomes the signal for a proletarian revolution in the
West, so that both complement each other, the present Russian
common ownership of land may serve as the starting-point for a
communist developmentY
While Marx and Engels could only hint at the scale of American
growth (at the same time as exaggerating the chances for proletarian
revolution in the USA), they were not in 1882 in a position to sense
fully the leaps forward that Russia too would be making in the fol-
lowing decades. The Populist overtones of their preface to the
Russian Manifesto were somewhat anachronistic in that the as-
sassination of Alexander II in 1881 marked an abrupt end to the
Populist period in the history of the Russian intelligentsia. The
movement now split in two general directions, towards liberalism on
the one hand and socialism on the other, this bifurcation reflecting
the growth of bourgeoisie and proletariat as well as continued stir-
rings among the landlords and peasants. Already apparent in the
years following 1861, the urban problem had grown by the beginning
of the twentieth century to proportions comparable with those in the
Western world. Such a circumstance was to be made crystal clear in
the Revolution of 1905, begun in St Petersburg and developing with a
nationwide general strike and a full-scale insurrection in Moscow.
Meanwhile the United States managed to ride the storms of indus-
trial unrest without revolutionary disturbance. The most celebrated
reform movement, the Progressive, was essentially middle class in
membership and moderate in aim, seeking to clean American cities
of their ills and injustices without any significant change in the
governmental system. Up to the outbreak of the First World War the
Progressives were at least moderately confident that they were on the
right track, and some of them believed that their policies contained
lessons for less favoured lands, including Russia, for which Robert
La Follette, for example, believed his own state of Wisconsin could
be a model of reform. More extreme solutions never got very far in
the USA, although Eugene V. Debs, the Socialist candidate for the
presidency, received nearly a million votes in 1912.
We must remember, too, as in the case of Germany, that the
achievement of peaceful modernisation in the USA did not mean the
absence of tension or violence. American labour history contains
almost as much gunfire as the winning of the West. Great strikes and
the bloody breaking of them were widespread. Unions made only

slow headway against the determined opposition of the bosses which
included the hiring of gangs of 'detectives' or 'guards' approaching
the scale and power of private armies. The leaders of the workers
were ruthlessly persecuted, and a determined policy of 'divide and
rule' was used against groups of differing ethnic origins. Even Pro-
gressives could do little to bring about a satisfactory truce, let alone a
peace, in this large-scale conflict, which threatened at times to con-
sume whole cities, even if the federal government itself could never
have been said to have faced the danger of overthrow.56
Again, as in the German case, a form of 'social imperialism' helped
to hold back the USA from such a cataclysm (a right-wing version of
which was sketched out in Jack London's The Iron Heel). Looking
outward or remembering the Maine, American citizens could cel-
ebrate their country's victories at the same time as denigrating those
'non-Americans' who either were not qualified or did not choose to
join in the waving of the flag or the brandishing of the big stick. As
John Higham writes of the 1890s:
Two anti-foreign movements - one international, the other

internal - complemented each other, so that the jingoist atmo-
sphere of the decade helps explain the depth and intensity of its
nativism. 57
One of the most important areas of activity before 1900 was China,
where the policy pursued was that of the 'open door', establishing an
informal empire in which the USA would have an important share
and stoutly resisting opposition movements such as that of the
Boxers. Two years before, in the 'splendid little war' against Spain,
the USA had consolidated its foothold in the Pacific and the Carib-
bean and also acquired a safety-valve to let off some popular steam.
(I t is interesting although also idle to speculate what would have hap-
pened if 'a small victorious war' - to use again the phrase of the
Russian minister of the interior, Pleve- had been denied the Ameri-
can people as it was the Russian in 1904-5, or indeed what would
have been the result if the USA's forces had taken on the Japanese at
that time rather than those of the tsar.) Teddy Roosevelt, the rough-
riding hero of San Juan Hill, was soon tall in the saddle of the presi-
dency, and involved in showdowns from Panama to Algeciras. And
before 1917 Woodrow Wilson was by no means the man of peace
that he has sometimes been taken for. Asserting in 1912 that 'what we
have been witnessing for the past hundred years is the transforma-
tion ofa Newtonian Constitution into a Darwinian Constitution','s
Wilson acted on the assumption of such a change in an area broader
than that of the technicalities of government, namely international
politics, intervening for example in the revolution of the Mexicans,
condoning the suppression of the Kuomintang in China.
National expansion had indeed produced global contraction, in
both peace and war. As early as the 1860s a telegraph company
official could declare that 'We hold the ball of the earth in our hand,
and wind upon it a network of living and thinking wire, till the whole
is held together and bound with the same wishes, projects, and inter-
ests."9 Many nations had the ships, men and money to exercise on a
world-wide scale the self-centred tenets of jingoism, including
comparatively new entrants into the struggle for empire such as the
USA and Germany, which had both successfully accomplished the
process of peaceful modernisation. It was perhaps ironic that in the
huge imperial contest the greatest threat to stability was seen in one
of the weakest of the dynamic powers which had not yet successfully
modernised, the unwitting begetter of the first jingoism (at the time
of the Crimean War) - tsarist Russia. The aggression of the Russian
bear was deemed to have reached appalling dimensions, the threat
extending as far as New Zealand, where preparations were made in
the 1870s and 1880s for raids by ships of the Russian navy.60 This
kind of threat, intensified by Russophobia, was of course exagger-
ated out of all proportion. Far from conquering the world with the
opportunities afforded it by the age of imperialism, the tsarist regime
became its most complete victim.
Part Two
The Russian Revolutions and Their
Impact
In Part I, we have argued that Russian history does not constitute an

exception to the general course of world history, even though it does
possess certain distinctive features. Russia was by no means a com-
plete stranger to the general crisis of the seventeenth century, was
fairly closely related to the democratic revolution of the eighteenth
century and intimately involved with the peaceful modernisation of
the nineteenth century. At the beginning of the twentieth century,
tsarism was inextricably connected with the world-wide ties of im-
perialism.
In other words, Russia's most celebrated historical feature- back-
wardness - was throughout the modern period of world history no
more than relative. Moreover this apparent handicap can sometimes
act to the advantage of those who have been held back by it. Trotsky
could write in the 1920s that 'The fact that Germany and the United
States have now economically outstripped England was made pos-
sible by the very backwardness of their capitalist development'.'
Similarly, as Trotsky and others have argued, even Russia was in cer-
tain respects in advance of some of its rivals soon after the beginning
RUSSIAN REVOLUTIONS AND THEIR IMPACT 75
of the twentieth century as well as remaining behind them in others.
Trotsky declared:
At the same time that peasant land-cultivation as a whole

remained, right up to the revolution, at the level ofthe seventeenth
century, Russian industry in its technique and capitalist structure
stood at the level of the advanced countries, and in certain respects
even outstripped them. 2
This circumstance, and its social consequences, resulted not only

in the three Russian Revolutions that will be the focus of our next
chapter, but also in some of their special features to which we shall
have to draw our attention. Not the least of these is the unpreceden-
tedly close relationship of the Russian Revolutions, especially the
third or October, with the rest of the world.
The division ofthe world into three parts is widely accepted today,
but there is some disagreement about the components of each of
them. Most Western analysts would probably accept Frantz Fanon's
concept of a Third World made up of the developing countries, with
the other two constituted by the more advanced capitalist and social-
ist worlds. 3 For the Chinese, however, the First World comprises the
United States and the Soviet Union together - 'the biggest inter-
national exploiters, oppressors and aggressors, and the common en-
emies of the peoples of the world';4 the Second World consists of
Europe and Japan while the Third World is made up of China with
the rest. And growing Western schools of thought divide the world
into four rather than three parts: the advanced industrial democra-
cies; the communist camp; the relatively rich developing countries,
particularly the oil producers; and a Fourth World of the poor. At
least some of those sharing this view would want to emphasise that
while the vast majority of this Fourth World is to be found in Asia,
Latin America and Africa, a not insignificant amount of its members
is to be found in the cities and backward rural areas of the other
three.' Here we adopt what appears to be still the majority Western
world view, especially since it conforms broadly to that shared by
Lenin and his opponents in 1917 and after: Soviet Russia; Western
empires and nations; and the victims of imperialism. This tripartite
division will determine the shape of Chapters 5 and 6. And, as we
shall now see again in Chapter 4, the division of the Russian Revol-
ution was also tripartite.
4 The Three Russian Revolutions
The Russian Revolutions were three in one - an unholy trinity. Lenin

called 1905 a 'dress rehearsal' and was the first to argue that October
must follow on from February. For Trotsky the three Revolutions
were all part of one continuous 'permanent revolution'. Writing of
1905 in 1922, he declared:
... both in its origins and in its development the prologue carried
within it all the elements of the historical drama whose witnesses
and participants we are today. But in the prologue these elements
appeared in a compressed, not as yet fully developed form. All the
forces engaged in the struggle of 1905 are today illuminated more
clearly than before by the light cast back on them by the events of
1917. The Red October, as we used to call it even then, grew after
twelve years into another, incomparably more powerful and truly
victorious October.l
Here we will attempt to give a brief description of the three Revol-

utions and of the relation between them, with emphasis on their as-
pirations for wider relevance culminating in the formation and
early activity of the Third International after October.
Right from its beginning in 1894, the reign of Nicholas II went
far from smoothly, and the going became even rougher after 1900.
At about this time opposition political parties from social demo-
crats to liberals were becoming more organised and increasing their
agitation for the overthrow or at least the reform of the autocracy.
Terrorism was also on the move again, and in 1901 an unpopular
minister of education was assassinated, a fate that befell a despised
minister of the interior in the following year. The latter's successor,
V. K. von Pleve, took up as many arms as possible against a swell-
ing sea of troubles composed of student agitation and unrest among
the nationalities, peasants and, last and least in numbers only,
workers. To relieve the pressure from the first of these sources,
THE THREE RUSSIAN REVOLUTIONS 77
Pleve encouraged attacks on Jewish communities in Bessarabia, the
Ukraine and White Russia. He sent troops out into the rural areas to
suppress peasant insurgency and suspended an investigation of the
agricultural problem by the provincial zemstva. He sent more troops
to quell industrial strikes and turned a deaf ear to demands for the
eight-hour day and other concessions. If beating up Yids did not
bring pacification, perhaps shooting 'yellow monkeys' would,
although when war actually threatened against Japan Pleve was not
as keen as before on his previously expressed notorious opinion that,
'In order to hold back the revolution, we need a small victorious
war.' After all, he was already keeping the army busy enough in his
fight against internal enemies. By July 1904 more than enough news
had come through of Russian reverses in the war against Japan
which had broken out in January for him to revise his opinion even
more before being blown up by a terrorist's bomb in St Petersburg.
His successor, Prince Dmitry Sviatopolk-Mirsky, was compara-
tively moderate, but could only achieve too little too late. Even lib-
erals were outraged by the treatment that Pleve had meted out to the
zemstva in which they were often themselves active, and were by no
means completely mollified by the new minister of the interior's con-
cessions to them. In September a group of opposition groups includ-
ing Socialist Revolutionaries, liberals from the Union of Liberation
and representatives of various nationalities, both left-wing and mod-
erate, met in Paris to form a bloc jointly resolved to work peacefully
for the replacement of autocracy by a form of representative govern-
ment elected by universal suffrage and offering the right of self-
determination to the various peoples. In October the Union of Liber-
ation went ahead with plans for a series of banquets which would cel-
ebrate the law reform of 1864 - the year which had also seen the
introduction of the zemstvo boards into provincial government, and
recall the campaign by French liberals in 1848. Discussions without a
banquet continued, too, throughout late 1904 in St Petersburg and
other towns. There was some disagreement about the extent of the
demands that should be made, the men from the zemstva being less
assertive than those from the Union of Liberation. But all could
agree to be outraged by the government's warning to the opposition
in December not to go beyond its sphere of competence and to be ap-
palled by the loss of Port Arthur in the same month. In January 1905
occurred the event which made protest and disturbance spill over
into revolution.
This was of course Bloody Sunday.2 At the beginning of the new
year a new wave of strikes had begun among the industrial workers
of the capital and elsewhere, and a peaceful procession of strikers,
women and children set out for the Winter Palace on 9 January. The
78 RUSSIAN REVOLUTIONS AND THEIR IMPACT
personality and intentions of the leader, Father Gapon, have been

the subject of much controversy, but there has been little dis-
agreement about the purpose of his followers. Similarly it is by no
means certain who ultimately initiated the action of the Cossacks,
nor how many were killed, but beyond any doubt the shots fired
upon the demonstrators ignited the fury of the opponents of tsar ism
and alienated many of its former friends. Lenin was surely correct to
note that 'The revolutionary education of the proletariat made more
progress in one day than it could have made in months and years of
drab, humdrum, wretched existence.'3 Never again would the work-
ers of the capital march with their wives and children in devout sup-
plication to their tsar under the influence of the oratory of a fervent
priest. The prelude to Bloody Sunday may have recalled medieval
Russia; the aftermath soon displayed a Russia firmly placed in the
modern world. Trotsky wrote in February 1905:
Trade after trade, factory after factory, town after town are stop-
ping work. The railway personnel act as the detonators of the
strike; the railway lines are the channels along which the strike epi-
demic spreads. Economic claims are advanced and are satisfied,
wholly or in part, almost at once. But neither the beginning of the
strike nor its end is fully determined by the nature of the claims
made or by the form in which they are met. The strike does not
occur because the economic struggle has found expression in cer-
tain well-defined demands; on the contrary, the demands are
chosen and formulated because there has to be a strike. The work-
ers have to reveal to themselves, to the proletariat in other parts of
the country, finally to the nation at large, their accumulated
strength, their class responsiveness, their fighting readiness.
Everything has to be submitted to the universal revolutionary
appraisal. 4
It is true that the strikers immediately began to go back to work in

St Petersburg, but they were soon out again both there and in other
cities, especially in peripheral regions such as Poland, the Baltic and
Caspian littorals. And it was not just the workers who were aroused.
Scarcely anybody from the meanest peasant to the grandest univer-
sity professor (if he is at the opposite end of the spectrum of con-
sciousness) was unaffected by the movement which swept
throughout the length and breadth of the empire for the rest of the
year and into the next. Even the tsar and his entourage, although not
visibly moved by Bloody Sunday, were soon forced to shift their
ground. After much hesitation the government took three significant
steps in February 1905: a summons to all loyal Russians to rally
round the throne; a declaration of intent to consult representatives of
the people in the preparation of new laws; and an instruction to the
Council of Ministers to consider seriously proposals for the improve-
ment of the state's organisation and of social welfare.
Tsushima in May was an even more humiliating defeat for the
Baltic and Black Sea fleets than the loss of Port Arthur had been for
the remnants of the Pacific fleet in December 1904. The government
was being driven towards peace with Japan in order to achieve it with
its own people. But the people moved more quickly than the govern-
ment. A new wave of unrest engulfed the centre of the empire and
many of the nationalities near the borders, especially the Poles. The
middle-class intelligentsia could not agree before 1905 on calling for
a constituent assembly, or how to co-ordinate their organisations;
now fourteen different groups came together in a Union of Unions
which accepted the need for terrorism and urged Nicholas to rid him-
self of the 'gang of robbers' around him. The less radical zemstvo
representatives had an audience with the tsar in June, only to find
their conference, scheduled for July, banned. They conferred never-
theless, and echoed the Populists of the nineteenth century in calling
for a movement to the people. By this time, the peasants had mobil-
ised themselves, refusing to work or pay tent and resorting to various
kinds of illegality on behalf of the bellies of their animals and their
own. Giving his full support to the peasant movement, Lunacharsky
a Social Democrat, also gave a warning: 'We must also fight against a
Pugachevshchina; there have already been cases of "generals"
appearing in various uniforms." Taking their organisation to a level
higher than in that famous struggle of former times, at least some
rural inhabitants had assembled with urban advisers to form a
Peasant Union in May. Throughout the summer of 1905 industrial
strikes continued, the troops being called out against one in l.odz
while another in Odessa led to the famous Potemkin mutiny. While
further disaffection from the armed forces was feared, the terrorists
were still in action, assassinating a number of victims including the
military governor of Moscow.
After such a season of discontent the government was forced to act
again. The tsar was the recipient of much advice from those close to
him. Many counselled firm discipline and diversionary tactics - more
use of the knout and more pogroms, but he vacillated between
severity and leniency in his policies. In August the procedure was
announced for elections to the representative assembly promised in
February, with countryside (supposedly conservative) heavily out-
weighing town (allegedly radical). Later in the same month the voice
of academia was liberated with an unexpected decree restoring
autonomy to the universities. Excited speeches, by no means all by
professors or even students, filled the lecture halls, and the procedure
for elections was given far from first-class marks.
If summer had produced considerable unrest, autumn brought
forth utter turmoil. After a number of fluctuations, the strike move-
ment became general with the encouragement of the railway union.
The trains stopped in October, and almost everything else stopped
too. One important movement began in the same month with the for-
mation of the St Petersburg Soviet of Workers' Deputies. To some
extent prepared by the agitation of radical politicians, by discussions
in the universities and by organisations on the shop floor, the Soviet
was something new. As Trotsky, one of its leading figures, put it:
It was an organisation which was authoritative and yet had no

traditions; which could immediately involve a scattered mass of
hundreds of thousands of people while having virtually no
organisational machinery; which united the revolutionary cur-
rents within the proletariat; which was capable of initiative and
spontaneous self-control- and, most important of all, which could
be brought out from underground within twenty-four hours.6
The Soviet was soon bringing out its own newspaper, Izvestiia
(N ews), and acquiring wide authority.
Recognising that he was in danger of losing his own authority,
Nicholas made further concessions, after being persuaded by Witte,
who had just come back from concluding the Treaty of Portsmouth
with Japan, that the only alternative was military dictatorship.
Nicholas was wise enough to realise that to exert a military dictator-
ship he needed armed forces made of sterner stuff than those immedi-
ately at his disposal, and so he issued what came to be known as the
October Manifesto. This broadened the franchise for the representa-
tive assembly, the State Duma, which was now to be consulted for its
approval of every new law; and fundamental civil liberties were
guaranteed. The October Manifesto was greeted with wild enthusi-
asm by many in the middle of the political road,' but those to the
right showed their alarm by persecuting more Jews and other un-
fortunates, while those to the left believed that no genuine concession
had been made. 'The proletariat ... rejects the police whip wrapped
in the parchment of the constitution', wrote Trotsky in Izvestiia. 8
The government had done enough for the strike movement to
waver. But the Revolution of 1905 came to an end not with a
whimper but with a bang. Rural areas within the Empire were subject
to widespread and more violent disturbances towards the end of the
year, while the Peasant Union met in Moscow in November to voice
there the aspirations of the tillers of the soil, augmented and adapted
it is true by revolutionary intellectuals whose number had increased
after the government had permitted the return of political exiles in
the previous month. Now the government resumed its former firm-
ness, declaring a 'state of emergency' in the Baltic provinces and else-
where and arresting the Moscow leaders of the Peasant Union. It
soon moved in on the Soviet, arresting the president of the St Peters-
burg Soviet, and then, after an inflammatory manifesto, all its depu-
ties. A protest strike came to very little, and the torch passed to
Moscow, where a Soviet of Soldiers' Deputies was set up. By mid-
December all was over bar the shooting, when an armed uprising
which had lasted for a week was crushed without difficulty by guards
brought in from the newer capital. Other loyal troops had to be sent
out to Siberia, where a section of the railway was in the hands of sold-
iers who had lost all semblance of good order and military discipline.
The most famous of a series of acts of insubordination among the
armed forces was a mutiny led by Lieutenant Schmidt in Sevastopol.
1906 saw the return of something like calm to the Russian Empire,
and it would be wrong to suggest that even 1905 brought the threat of
revolution to every single corner of the land. Had this been the case,
the Revolution would probably have been more successful, although
a further reason for its eventual failure was lack of co-ordination
among its several parts. Its impact was certainly felt throughout the
world, according to Trotsky, even at the beginning of the fateful
year: 'Every Paris concierge knew three days in advance that there
was going to be a revolution in Petersburg on Sunday, 9 January.'9
We shall look more closely at the spread of the news and its influence
in the next two chapters. Here we shall concentrate on its effect as far
as the international revolutionary movement was concerned.
In the assessment of 1905 by Julius Braunthal, one of the his-
torians of the International:
It was an unforgettable experience, this first revolutionary upris-

ing of the workers since the Paris Commune of 1871, and, for
many contemporaries, the first experience of revolution. To some
it seemed that they were living through a turning-point in world
history and witnessing the start of a new epoch of European revol-
utions. 10
Braunthal quotes from a letter from Victor Adler to August Bebel in

December 1904: ' ... to me, the centre of gravity lies now in Russia. I
simply burn of tension, and I believe that there our destiny will be, if
not decided, in any case decisively influenced .. .'. He also tells us of
the reception given to news of the tsar's October Manifesto at the
Party Congress of the Austrian Social Democrats. As soon as the
first paragraph was read out, conceding freedom of the press and of
assembly, great cheers went up, and then the delegates stood to hear
the rest of the manifesto 'gripped by an almost religious emotion'. At
its end
... the delegates instinctively found the appropriate way of ex-

pressing their feelings. Suddenly the hall rang with the sound of
revolutionary songs. The Czechs and Poles were singing the Red
Flag, whereupon the Germans responded with the Marseillaise. 11
The choice of song may have been an indication of attitude concern-

ing one of the big questions that was occupying the international
socialist movement at the time- the general strike. German socialists
tended to see it as a shield, while others saw it as a spear. Experience
of workers in Belgium, Holland and Italy and elsewhere in Europe
had so far been conflicting; and in the end the new evidence from
Russia could lend support to either side in the debate. In the longer
perspective that is available to us we can see one of the beginnings of
the split that was to tear the Second International apart.
One of the leading figures in that disruption, Lenin, was absent
from the revolutionary arena until after the amnesty for political
exiles in October 1905. But before then, of course, as he heard of the
events he was ceaselessly subjecting them to his searching analysis.
And hedid not talk of Europe alone. On I January 1905 he published
an article in the periodical Vpered entitled 'The Fall of Port Arthur',
in which he emphasised that:
A progressive and advanced Asia has inflicted an irreparable blow

on a backward and reactionary Europe .... Military writers say
that in strength Port Arthur was equal to six Sevastopols. And
behold, a small hitherto universally despised Japan took pos-
session of this citadel in eight months, whereas. England and
France together took a whole year to seize one Sevastopol.
Already Lenin sensed the implications of the Japanese victory and of

the domestic sequel to the Russian defeat; by 1927 the Soviet writer
M. Pavlovich was prepared to give the internal disturbance pre-
cedence over the international upset, writing:
The Russian Revolution of 1905 made an even greater impression

on the peoples of the East. In the life of the Asian peoples the
Russian Revolution played the same tremendous role as the great
French Revolution formerly played in the lives of the Europeans. 12
In many ways the war and the Revolution are inseparable; neither
can be understood without some examination of the other, and they
both stand out more clearly when placed in a wider context. What is
beyond all doubt is that between them they stimulated the movement
for socialism in Asia as in Europe. (See also Chapters 5 and 6).
For the moment we must move on towards February. Of course
between the first and second of the Russian Revolutions there were
many significant developments rendering the nature of the events in
early 1917 considerably different from those of 1905, and there has
been a considerable quantity of interesting historical discussion
about them. But since our major purpose here is to look at the Revol-
utions themselves and at their international impact, we will not be
able to subject the intervals between the three of them to anything
more than the most summary scrutiny.
The 1905 Revolution did bring about the creation of the State
Duma, but this did not mean the introduction of parliamentary
democracy into Russia, or even of constitutional monarchy. For
most of what Nicholas and his entourage had granted with one hand
they quickly seized back with the other. The unabashed penchant of
the tsarist government for autocracy was to some extent consoli-
dated and mirrored by the inclination towards 'Bonapartism' of the
chief minister during the years following the Revolution of 1905,
P. A. Stolypin. Perhaps rendered too self-conscious and premedi-
tated a policy in the interpretation of some Soviet historians, his bal-
ance of one socio-political force against another did enable Stolypin
to make some progress towards the solution of some of Russia's con-
tinuing problems, especially that of rural Russia. But like other
strong men before him, Bonapartes and Bismarcks, Stolypin did per-
haps develop too great a confidence in his own judgement and
power, and he was already on the decline when assassinated in 1911.
Where Stolypin had failed, lesser men were hardly likely to succeed.
Moreover the political arena in which he and his less able successors
operated was separated from the world of most inhabitants of the
Russian Empire, even if his and their policies certainly affected their
fellow-countrymen's contentment and prosperity. Above all, the
landlord and industrial--commercial groups, the upper and middle
classes and their political representatives, were involved in the de-
bates of the Duma. But meanwhile outside the Duma, the extremist
parties were building up support, if by no means in a smooth pro-
gression, and were preparing themselves, if by no means with the
ruthless precision sometimes attributed to them, for the leadership of
large-scale unrest should it ever flare up again.
For political consciousness was undoubtedly spreading among the
'dark people', as was demonstrated in the works of such writers as
Maksim Gorky 13 and such investigations as that carried out by the

Socialist-Revolutionary Party among the peasantry in 1907-8
which found that: ' ... whatever form the peasant mood might take,
one thing is indubitable from the replies - their attitude towards the
landowners and the authorities is everywhere sharply negative.'
Gone completely was the 'naive monarchism' that had acted as
something of a restraint in pre-1905 days: 'The attitude of the pea-
sants to the tsar is to a high degree unanimous. There is literally not a
single reply which does not indicate that faith in the tsar among the
masses either "is declining" or has already "completely disap-
peared".' And the attitude towards active opposition, including viol-
ence, was favourable. For example one group of respondents said:
'We shall drive all the masters out, and some will go to St Petersburg,
and some will go to England, and the land will be left to us.' The
report on the investigations concluded: 'The field is ploughed. Now
it is up to the sowers. '14 Although the peasantry constituted by far the
largest class, the industrial proletariat possessed a significance well in
excess of its small numbers, and it too was more radical than before
in the years after the 1905 Revolution, causing a threat of con-
siderable although disputed proportions to social stability in the
towns as the peasantry had to the countryside}' Significant stirrings
could be detected among the armed forces 16 and the nationalities!'
too.
It is still a question of debate whether or not the arrival of the First
World War brought forward or made inevitable the Second and
Third Russian Revolutions. There are those who argue that the out-
break of hostilities provided a safety-valve for internal pressures and
gave Nicholas some respite as differences with him were forgotten in
a renewed and strengthened patriotism. Others believe that, had it
not been for the war, the tsar would have been able to survive the ad-
justment to modernisation that his regime was belatedly but success-
fully making. To omit the war, however, would be rather a huge step
even in counter-factual analysis. And if the war in the short run pro-
duced relief for the tsar, in the course of the following two and a half
years it added enormously to his difficulties. His own foolhardy
decision to take personal command of the army in the late summer of
1915 certainly compounded his predicament, as did his compliant at-
titude to his wife's interference in matters of governmental policy.
But the social dislocation which overtook Russia by late 1916 was
too great for even the firmest actions of a 'strong tsar' whom many
apprehensive people were calling for, by that time, to restrain and
overcome.
Not that the story of imperial Russia in its last days is exclusively
one of despondency and decline. At least twice, at the very beginning
of the war and again in 1916, action by the Russian army on the east-
ern front probably saved the situation for the sorely pressed armies
of the Allies on the western front. The outcome of the Battle of the
Marne and the first Ypres, of Verdun and the Somme, might well
have been different had the Russian troops not pulled 'the chestnuts
out of the fire' for their French and British comrades. As late as the
end of 1916, the percentage of deaths in the German casualties on the
eastern front and the number of Germans captured there were higher
than to the west. Norwas this always a case of poorly equipped Russ-
kies pushing back the Fritzes by bravery alone - the imperial war
machine was by no means as primitive as has often been suggested.
For example, by September 1916 Russia could produce 4t million
shells a month, not so far behind the 7 million of Germany. True, the
communications network left more and more to be desired and the
guns and shells did not always arrive where they would best have fin-
ished thejob.1 a
Behind the lines, too, production was not often an insuperable
problem; the difficulty lay increasingly with distribution and
exchange. There were probably enough foodstuffs being grown by
the peasants, even with the sharp reduction in available fertiliser and
machinery, but they were not getting through to the progressively
hungrier inhabitants of the towns. Also distressed by steep inflation
and fuel shortages, the industrial workers (many of them recently
uprooted peasants) and their families were becoming dangerously
restless by the beginning of the year 1917.
More than coincidentally, that fateful year opened with an ener-
getic demonstration on 9 January, the anniversary of Bloody
Sunday, the event which had triggered off the first Revolution in
1905. More than coincidentally too, the second Revolution of
February actually commenced on the 23rd of that month (8 March
New Style), which was another anniversary, International Woman's
Day. Thus the necessity of considering the fall of tsarism in a wider
context, both chronologically and geographically, is strongly indi-
cated, although the centre of attention must be February in
Petrograd.
Towards the end of 1916 the police department compared the
situation in the new and old capitals with that to be found there ten
or so years before, and concluded that 'now the mood of opposition
has reached such extraordinary proportions as it did not approach
by a long way among the broad masses in that troubled time'. Rum-
blings were heard in the provinces too. The root of all these troubles
was clear enough to the Empress Alexandra. 'Dissolve the Duma
immediately', she wrote to her husband in December 1916. 'Quietly
and with a clean conscience before all Russia I would send Lvov to
Siberia .... (So it has been done for far less important actions.)
.'19 Prince Lvov and the other Duma leaders, to whom Alexandra
would have meted out a like fate, were in fact among the best friends
of tsarism, if not of Nicholas and Alexandra. They would certainly
have been happy with some reduction in the prerogative of the tsar
and certainly of the tsarina, and a growing number of them would
have welcomed an abdication, but a change of incumbent upon the
throne rather than the throne's destruction. 20 Their strongest criti-
cisms were reserved for Rasputin and other 'dark forces' in the tsarist
entourage, although even the assassination of 'Our Friend' in late
December did not markedly increase sympathy for the royal couple.
But the most complete opposition to the regime came from members
of the proletariat and, although weakened by exile and impris-
onment, from the radical political parties, especially the Mensheviks
and Bolsheviks. Guarded support for the strike on 9 January 1917
came also from the Worker Group of the Central War Industry
Committee, which shared the fundamental philosophy of the Duma
leaders.
The Bloody Sunday anniversary demonstration brought out
300,000 workers in Petrograd, according to the calculations of the
Social Democrats. As an accompaniment to it there were meetings
with speeches and revolutionary songs; in places the Red Flag was
unfurled and anti-tsarist slogans shouted. While the police noticed
with satisfaction that the demonstration went off peaceful\y, the
executive committee of the Petrograd Social Democrats observed
that the turn-out was the highest of the war and that 'the mood in the
factories is very bright, politically conscious and opens up wide
revolutionary possibilities'.2l While the mood was most energetic in
Petrograd, there was some animation in Moscow and signs of it in
provincial towns, too.
From January to February the strike movement developed in the
direction of revolution, particularly in the capital. Still using the
experience of 1905, the workers of Petrograd had now moved
twelve years on in their tactics and were also now in a position to
take advantage of a much more promising military situation.
While there were about one million men under arms, most of them
away in the Far East, at the time of the first Revolution, there were
fifteen times that number mobilised for the First World War, and
nearly a third of a million in and around Petrograd, two and a half
times as many as in peacetime, and a significant proportion of
them workers and peasants.
Armed revolutionary bands as in 1905 would not now be
enough; the soldiers had to be won over. An important means of
achieving this vital end was demonstration in the streets, but just
how consciously such an approach was formulated by the begin-
ning of 1917 it is difficult to say. There has been much discussion
concerning the 'spontaneity' of the February Revolution, and direc-
tion and leadership were certainly not as visible then as they were in
October. But too much emphasis on 'spontaneity' would render im-
possible any form of explanation, and many of us find it very difficult
to imagine how events just happen, without origin or cause. And,
while the moderate and radical leadership might both have been
somewhat without clear purpose as the revolutionary movement got
under way again, the rank and file and local committees of the SRs
and SDs, particularly the latter, appear to have been conscious
enough of what they were doing as strikes turned into demon-
strations. 22 Moreover, for their part, the Petrograd authorities had
little doubt that the matter of insurgency was coming to a head in the
new year.
The women who came out into the streets on 23 February were not
exclusively bent on joining in festivities to celebrate their inter-
national day; indeed most of them had little inclination towards such
commemoration, but were much more concerned to make a protest
against the hardships being imposed on their families, particularly
the bread shortageY Strikers, especially from the Putilov works in
the south-west of the city, and other workers, particularly from the
Vyborg district in the north-east, gave solidarity to the demon-
stration, which centred on the Nevsky Prospect, and came to number
100,000 and more. The police made some effort to stem the flow, but
were not successful. The moderate members of the Duma still hoped
that peace could be restored to the streets without any great political
upset; some ofthe members of the radical parties were already think-
ing of reviving the institution characteristic of 1905 - the Soviet.
On the next day, Friday 24 February, the number of demon-
strators probably doubled, their slogans became more extreme and
their clashes with the authorities intensified. And on Saturday 25
February there was a further deterioration or improvement in the
situation, depending on the observer's point of view. The way was
prepared for yet another Bloody Sunday. The first activity came
during the night from the tsarist police, who clearly showed their dis-
belief in 'spontaneity' by arresting those whom they considered re-
sponsible for stirring up the troubles. A quiet morning appeared to
vindicate their policy, but by afternoon the crowds were out again on
the Nevsky Prospect. The point of no return was reached both indi-
vidually by a few hundreds of the demonstrators who were shot
down by rifle or even machine-gun fire, and generally by the Revol-
ution, which could not now turn back. Some middle-class politicians
believed that it was still possible for the tsar to create a ministry of
trust; the radicals in touch with the people knew better, especially
when troops started to defect. And when the crowds stormed the
Peter and Paul fortress and other prisons on Monday, Russia's 14
July had come on 27 February. The chorus of the Russian version of
'La Marseillaise' rose to a new crescendo, swelled by thousands of
ex-prisoners, and, more significantly, by thousands of soldiers and
sailors.
Nicholas II did not abdicate before 2 March, but by that time he
must have been about the last to realise that his abdication was inevi-
table, and even then he did not accept that the three centuries of
Romanov rule had definitely come to an end. The government set up
in the place oftsarism, on the other hand, saw itself as no more than
provisional, partly through deference to its predecessor and putative
successor, partly from a realisation forced upon it from the very be-
ginning that its hold on power by no means gave the appearance of
completeness or permanence. As it set itself up in the Taurida Palace
it was also conscious of another occupant there - a revived Soviet,
with which it would have to share a 'dual power'.24
The Soviet might have been an even more formidable rival if it had
been set up by the far left in the Vyborg district, as at least a few
groups proposed, rather than in the Taurida Palace, where it was
comparatively remote from the greatest centres of proletarian
power. If it had been in the Vyborg district, it would have been near
at hand for Lenin after his celebrated return to the Finland Station in
Petrograd. There, in the speech that was to form the basis of his
celebrated 'April Theses', the Bolshevik leader gave great emphasis
to the international situation. The 'April Theses' themselves begin
with the assertion that 'a predatory imperialistic war would have to
be opposed as much as before because of the 'capitalist character' of
the new government. And they end with a call for the revival of the
International and the creation of a revolutionary International,25
Here, as nearly always, Lenin gives emphasis in his analysis to the
wider setting of the Russian situation. Throughout the war up to
1917 he had been struggling at least as much against the traitors of
the Second International throughout Europe as against the
defenders of tsarism. And so when on 9 January 1917 he made his
oft-quoted (more often than not out of context) remark that 'We of
the older generation may not live to see the decisive battles of this
coming revolution',26 he was probably not thinking of the crisis in
Petrograd so much as about the development of the struggle to be
faced throughout the whole world.
Meanwhile the new government under Prince Lvov, whom Alex-
andra would have sent to Siberia along with many of his colleagues,
accepted without demur the full inheritance of the foreign policy of
its predecessor. Not for them opposition to the war or even the
adoption of a defensive attitude towards it, but on to 'a decisive vic-
tory' in conjunction with the other democracies, including the 'new
Ally, the great Trans-Atlantic Republic' .27 True, there was some
modification of the language of imperialist expansionism when the
Soviets made known their objections, but even they did not come out
unequivocally for Russia's withdrawal from the war. But under
Kerensky, as under Lvov before him, the Provisional Government
remained firm in its determination to keep faith with the Allies (even
though there was a diminishing amount of evidence that the Allies
were keeping faith with it) and to fight on to a glorious end (in spite of
vast numbers of Russian soldiers voting for peace with their feet).
Meanwhile Lenin kept strictly to his policy too. He would have
nothing to do with that movement for socialist solidarity on an atti-
tude towards the war which would approve of it as a protection for
the working classes in the respective belligerent states. Soon after his
arrival back in Petrograd and his enunciation of the 'April Theses',
he declared:
'I hear that in Russia there is a movement towards unity, unity

with the defensists. This is a betrayal of Socialism. I think that it is
better to stand alone ... one against one hundred and ten'.
He insisted continuously on the necessity for withdrawal from the

war and the foundation of a new International, and would have
nothing to do with the 'defensist' Stockholm Conference in the
summer. In mid-October he was still thinking of how to promote
what he believed to be a genuine socialist movement throughout the
world:
Not until the proletarian revolution has triumphed in at least one

country, or until the war has come to an end, may we hope for a
speedy and successful movement towards the convoking of a great
conference of revolutionary internationalist parties of various
countries; nor for their consent to a formal adoption of a new pro-
gram.28
The first of his desiderata was about to be realised, with the culmi-
nating Russian Revolution, that of October.
In retrospect October appears to have followed February almost
as night follows day. And yet, just as the spontaneity of the second
Revolution has been exaggerated, so has the planning of the third.
Lenin was not taken completely by surprise in February, nor was he
entirely expecting October. Certainly during the summer and
autumn of 1917 the internal situation had been deteriorating in

Russia while her international predicament grew sufficiently to turn
domestic dislocation into utter chaos; Kerensky's ship of state was
not so much sinking as disintegrating. Like Nicholas II before him,
Kerensky was the last to realise what was happening, although he
was to make a quicker getaway than his predecessor. The Allies put
what trust they had left in a 'strong man', General Kornilov; The
Times was at first optimistic about the chances for success of the
revolt associated with his name, but after the revolt's speedy failure,
was obliged to try to make do again with Kerensky.29 And now that
the strong man was revealed as powerless, what could be made ofthe
weak?
Among those who had helped to forestall Kornilov's plans were
the Red Guards, some thousands of workers armed partly at least by
Kerensky himself to defend the Revolution. This kind of 'defensism'
was attractive enough to the Bolsheviks, who felt their strength
growing still more on 31 August, the day after the crushing of the
revolt, when the Petrograd Soviet first passed a resolution put for-
ward by the Bolsheviks, who now took over its control. On 5 Sep-
tember the same development took place in the Moscow Soviet, and
during the remainder of that month the Bolsheviks achieved majori-
ties in a number of other towns. A slogan from the period after
February which had fallen into desuetude was now revived with a
new fervour- 'All Power to the Soviets!'
With mass desertions from the armed forces, proletarian strikes
and peasant land seizures, centrifugal pressures from many of the
former empire's many nationalities, and no firm support for the
government from any quarter, the prospect of a new comprehensive
change was presenting itself with ever greater clarity.30 On 29 Sep-
tember Lenin could write in an article entitled 'The Crisis Has
Matured' that the end of the month marked 'a great turning-point in
the history of the Russian revolution and, to all appearances, of the
world revolution as well'.31
But again we must emphasise that 'Great October' was as yet far
from cut and dried. Lenin was becoming more confident, but he still
had to persuade his colleagues in the Bolshevik Central Committee
that his estimate was correct that the majority of the people were be-
hind the Bolsheviks, and that the time had come for the preparation
of an armed insurrection. On 12 October a Military Revolutionary
Committee (MRC) was set up in Petrograd by the Soviet under the
chairmanship of Trotsky. It was to defend the Revolution with the
help of the Red Guards, and its members were soon coming round to
the idea that the best form of defence was attack. On 16 October a
Military Revolutionary Centre was organised as a Bolshevik caucus
within the MRC and, not without hesitation, demur and even oppo-
sition from some comrades, plans for the seizure of power were now
drawn up.
On Tuesday 24 October the implementation ofthe plans was set in
motion, not entirely because of prior decision, but to a significant
extent as a result of anti-Bolshevik activity. Military cadets were
authorised to close the offices of the party newspaper, while the Pro-
visional Government raised the city's bridges for tactical reasons at
the same time as reinforcing the defence of the Winter Palace, which
had become its principal seat. Such forces as Kerensky could still
command were poised for an attack on the Smolny Institute, which
had become the headquarters of the MRC. To counter such moves,
the MRC gave orders for the expulsion of the young officers from the
newspaper offices and for the assembly of the Red Guards along with
sympathetic soldiers and sailors at Smolny. The cruiser Aurora,
whose crew had come over to join the revolutionaries, broadcast
radio messages to all revolutionary units in the vicinity of Petrograd
to deny pro-government forces access to the capital. And Red sailors
from the base of Kronstadt some miles out of town were mobilised
for action, too.
Lenin came out of hiding at about midnight on 24/25 October. By
that time the Red forces had seized such strategic points as all the
bridges across the Neva and two important telegraph offices. The
telephone exchange, railway stations, power stations and banks were
taken over during the night as Lenin assumed personal control of the
revolutionary activities. By morning the Provisional Government
was beleaguered in the Winter Palace and a few other official build-
ings. Kerensky made a few last desperate efforts to acquire more
military support and then left Petrograd hurriedly in an official car
from the American Embassy. Hejust missed the address of Lenin to
the citizens of Russia that was issued by the MRC at about 10 a.m.
and which declared:
The cause for which the people have fought, namely the immediate
offer of a democratic peace, the abolition of landed pro-
prietorship, workers' control over production, and the estab-
lishment of Soviet power - this cause has been secured.
During the rest of 25 October the cause was made doubly secure until
only the Winter Palace remained as a centre of opposition to the
MRC's forces. The historic storming of the Winter Palace was com-
pleted by the early morning of26 October. 32
Immediately the new government set about issuing decrees that
fulfilled the promise of Lenin's address of25 October, the first few of
them being passed by the Second All-Russia Congress of Soviets

which was then in session. Soon, with the euphoria of victory barely
tasted, the Communists (as they were to call themselves soon after
their transfer of the capital back to Moscow to distinguish their party
from discredited Social Democrats) ran into many grievous prob-
lems, including several connected with the all-important question of
peace.
First we should look at the constitutional problem, the least in
Lenin's eyes, but one that has been much discussed in the West. For
Lenin, the ratification of the seizure of power by the Second All-
Russia Congress of Soviets was enough; for others at the time and
since, the ultimate authority should have been vested in the Con-
stituent Assembly, which the Bolsheviks along with most political
activists had been calling for throughout the earlier part of 1917, and
which was now at last going to convene, the elections having taken
place without Bolshevik interference. As Western historians have
pointed out in detail, the Bolsheviks won a smaller total of votes than
the Socialist Revolutionary Party, and should therefore have given
up the government to their rivals,l3 But, apart from the fact that there
are few if any examples of a revolutionary regime handing over the
power that it has just seized, especially during a disastrous war, and
the further fact that the Socialist Revolutionaries formed a party in
little more than name and could not easily have taken up the reins of
power, there was the further countervailing circumstance that, as an
acute observer Arthur Ransome put it: 'The idea of a Constituent
Assembly played a part in the Russian Revolution profitable at dif-
ferent times to different parties.'34 Just after the February Revol-
ution, it provided whatever cohesion the dual power possessed, since
the agreement between the Provisional Government and the Soviets
was formed on the basis of its temporary nature, with the promise of
early resolution through the ballot box of the question of the more
permanent nature of the state order, Arthur Ransome continues:
As it was clear that immediate elections to the Assembly would

have given an immense majority in the Assembly to parties repre-
sented in the Soviets, the parties on the Right desired to postpone
it, while the demand for its immediate summoning became a useful
lever against them in the hands of the Bolsheviks. As the Soviets
became more Bolshevik the postponement of the Constituent As-
sembly became less desirable except by those who hoped that it
would be possible by some military coup to suppress the parties of
the Left before the elections. When, after the failure of the Korni-
lov adventure, these hopes were dashed, the Constituent Assembly
became in the minds of the anti-Bolshevik parties' a means of
drowning the extremist vote of the towns in the slightly more mod-
erate votes of the peasants, and active preparations for the elec-
tions were at last begun.3~
After the October Revolution, the Bolsheviks now looked upon the
Constituent Assembly 'as unnecessary and even dangerous since it
might mean what was to them a retrograde step from the hegemony
of the towns to a democracy in which the towns would be outvoted'.36
Although they argued that Soviet power was of a more advanced
form than the bourgeois parliamentary form, the Bolsheviks were 'a
little hampered by the momentum of the agitation they had carried
on formerly against its postponement'. And so:
They decided to hurry on the elections, to split the peasant vote

and simultaneously to declare that the Soviets were, in a revol-
ution, a higher authority than any assembly in which the pos-
sessing classes could take part. If by hook or crook they could get
the Assembly to confirm the authority of the Soviets, well and
good. Ifnot, they would use the methods of Cromwell.
When the vote went against them, they allowed the Constituent As-
sembly to meet, but as use began of it as a mouthpiece for opposition
to Soviet power, its guards told it to go home as it had talked enough.
Lenin and his supporters made no effort to keep it in session, and the
Constituent Assembly now became 'a watchword used indiscrimina-
tely by all the anti-Bolshevik parties'.37
As Lenin put it in his 'The Constituent Assembly elections and the
dictatorship of the proletariat' written in December 1919:
... the experience of Kolchak and Denikin 'democracy', about

which every hack writer in Kolchakia and Denikia shouted in
every issue of the whiteguard newspapers, showed the peasants
that phrases about democracy and about the 'Constituent
Assembly' serve only as a screen to conceal the dictatorship of the
landowners and capitalists.
Lenin believed that the peasants came in the end to see that their real
friends were the Bolsheviks, although after the end of the Civil War,
Maksim Gorky was not so sure, writing of the peasants:
They will develop a good historical memory and, remembering

their recent tormented past, in the first stages of building a new life
they will be rather distrustful of, if not outright hostile to, the intel-
ligentsia and the workers who cause various disorders and revolts.
Enough of them must have been in favour of the Bolsheviks, how-

ever, or indifferent to them or at the very least not actively opposed
for the Reds to emerge the final victors in the Civil War. And if the
main strength of the Bolsheviks was clearly shown in the elections to
the Constituent Assembly to lie in the towns and the armed forces,
returning servicemen or other propagandists could make some im-
pression on the SR strongholds of the rural areas, a task facilitated
by the government's adoption of a significant part of the SR land
programme, and its immediate Decree on Peace. 38
To take that all-important matter further, negotiations were to
begin at Brest-Litovsk just after an armistice had been signed there
on 5 December 1917. The Bolsheviks, wanting to give their policies
maximum publicity, tried to set the negotiations up elsewhere,
ideally in a neutral capital as Stockholm, but the Germans insisted
on continuing in their frontier fortress and held the whip hand on this
and later decisons. After a ten-day adjournment aimed at involving
other powers in the discussions, the two sides met again face to face.
Their bargaining position made even stronger by the willingness of
one of the Ukrainian factions to make a separate peace, the German
representatives grew even less accommodating, as Trotsky, the
leader of the Russian delegation, made a somewhat desperate appeal
to the German troops over the heads of their leaders. Communist
rhetoric and delay led to a deterioration in the terms that the Ger-
mans were prepared to offer. At first, Lenin's arguments that Russia
needed a breathing space attracted only minority support among his
colleagues, but when Trotsky himself abandoned his 'neither war
nor peace' formula and went over to Lenin's side, the harsh terms of
the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk were finally accepted by March 1918.
A large slice of the former Russian Empire was now lost, the
Baltic Provinces as well as the Ukraine and pieces of Transcauca-
sia. A wedge driven in as far as the environs of Petrograd could
now serve as a useful springboard for intervention in the Civil
War.39
To counter threats from outside and even more from within, the
All-Russian Extraordinary Commission for the Suppression of
Counter-Revolution, Sabotage and Profiteering, or Cheka as it
was known after its first two Russian initials, was formed soon
after the October Revolution and became the main agency of the
Red Terror which accompanied the Civil War along with a White
Terror. As it became clear that this war was going to be more than
a brief and minor affair, the Red Army was formed from a num-
ber of different sources, including the Red Guards and former
tsarist troops and officers. 40
So great was the potential of the White forces and their inter-
ventionist allies that the odds against Red survival soon appeared
to be formidable. 41 But, as Arthur Ransome pointed out, such an as-
sumption did not allow 'for that strange, incalculable x of revol-
utionary enthusiasms which, in Russia in the twentieth century as in
France in the eighteenth, continually provided miracles for the dis-
comfiture of logicians.' Moreover, adversity was turned to advant-
age. As Ransome puts it:
Throughout the Civil War the Communists adopted the opposite

method to that of rulers who exaggerate victories and minimise
defeats. Huge maps were set up on boardings in the streets of the
towns with a thick black line to mark the encircling front. Day by
day during the White advances the black line was moved nearer to
Moscow. Defeats intensified instead of disheartening the defence,
in spite of the appalling conditions in the besieged camp. In this
war few of the wounded could hope to survive, for the blockade
did not allow the importation even of anaesthetics or the necessary
drugs. Outside the territory of the Soviets to be a member of the
Communist Party was a crime punishable by death. Captured
Communists were shot at once. Yet at the worst moment, October
1919, when White forces were within striking distance of Moscow
and of Petrograd, thousands of working men poured into the
party.42
An additional boost to the morale of the Red Army and its sup-
porters came from the belief that the events in Russia were of much
wider, even global significance, a view shared by many of the backers
of the White armies and the Interventionists.
For as one world war was coming to an end, another was begin-
ning. The statesmen coming together to draw up the peace treaties
were very conscious of this new development, of imperial Germany's
grasp for world power being succeeded by Soviet Russia's attempt at
world revolution. As Ray Stannard Baker put it:
The effect of the Russian problem on the Paris Conference was

profound: Paris cannot be understood without Moscow. Without
ever being represented at Paris at all, the Bolsheviki and Bolshe-
vism were powerful elements at every turnY
The delegates were all too conscious of such threats from Lenin as
that in Pravda of October 1918: 'The time is not far off when the first
day of the world revolution will be celebrated everywhere.'44 At that
time, just before the conclusion of the Armistice, governments
throughout Western Europe were apprehensive, and not without

cause, as we shall see in the next chapter. When their representatives
convened in Paris in January 1919, the apprehension had grown
rather than diminished. Some of the voices heard in the Western
world at that time, such as those of Churchill and Foch, were in
favour of the instant crushing of the Revolution. Others, such as
Woodrow Wilson and Lloyd George, took a somewhat less implaca-
ble stance. Wilson went so far as to recognise that Bolshevism was 'a
protest against the way in which the world has worked'. His 'Four-
teen Points' had been issued at the beginning of 1918 to a con-
siderable degree in response to
... the voice of the Russian people.... a voice calling for these
definitions of principle and purpose which is, it seems to me, more
thrilling and compelling than any of the moving voices with which
the troubled air of the world is filled. 45
Lloyd George, not so charitable or so hypocritical (depending on

how one is affected by Woodrow Wilson's pious utterances), shared
no illusion about the harmful potential of Bolshevism, but feared
that the cause might be advanced rather than retarded if intervention
were to be stepped up and Soviet sympathisers in Western Europe
were mobilised. Agreeing with Wilson that the new League of
Nations might guarantee the kind of order that Western statesmen
were seeking, he gave the following warning in a memorandum of
March 1919:
The whole of Europe is filled with the spirit of revolution. There is

a deep sense not only of discontent, but of anger and revolt
amongst the workmen against pre-war conditions. The whole
existing order in its political, social and economic aspects is ques-
tioned by the masses of the population from one end of Europe to
the other. There is a danger that we might throw the masses ...
into the arms of the extremists whose only idea for regenerating
mankind is to destroy utterly the whole existing fabric of society.
These men have triumphed in Russia. 46
Just as Allied attitudes towards Soviet Russia varied between com-

plete opposition and at least some measure of accommodation, so
there was some difference among them as to the question of how to
negotiate with her, if at all. Lloyd George gave some support to the
invitation drafted by Woodrow Wilson for all the belligerents in the
Russian Civil War to be represented at a conference at Prinkipo
Island in the Sea of Marmora (later the home for several years of the
exiled Leon Trotsky). This venue was chosen because Clemenceau,
to some extent listening to White Russians in Paris, refused to invite
Bolsheviks to come there. The Soviet government accepted the invi-
tation which had been broadcast to them and their opponents by
radio and offered to discuss the question of financial obligations and
of timber and mining concessions. But the anti-Soviet voice pre-
vailed, and the Prinkipo Conference never materialised. As a new
means of making contact with Moscow, Woodrow Wilson sent a
member of his delegation - William Bullitt - on a special secret mis-
sion to the Red capital. Once again Lenin and his associates were pre-
pared to come more than half way to meet their opponents, but some
of their die-hard enemies would not budge an inch, particularly since
a new strong man, Admiral Kolchak, was enjoying outstanding suc-
cess in his push westwards through Siberia. So the Bullitt mission,
too, ended in failure. A third means of contact with the Reds,
through famine relief organised by Herbert Hoover and Frijdthof
Nansen, was viewed with suspicion on both sides and came to
nothing in 1919.
And so the Allies settled on a policy of mainly passive anti-
Bolshevism, including the blockade and isolation of Soviet Russia
accompanied by support for White armies and non-Russian
nationalities aspiring to independence. A lot of their money was still
on Kolchak, who was addressed by the Supreme Council of the Con-
ference on 27 Mayas 'Supreme Ruler of all the Russias', although
some was also placed on the Baits, the Poles, the Rumanians and
Caucasians. Kolchak indicated his determination to rule Russia on a
'democratic basis' just before being thrown back by the Red Army
across Siberia. And by this time, isolated though they were from the
governments of the outside world, the Communists in Moscow did
not feel themselves cut off from many sympathisers there. For in
March they had set up the Third or Communist International, the
Comintern, partly as a fulfilment of Lenin's long-held aspiration,
partly as a more immediate counter to 'the danger that the alliance of
capitalist states that are organising themselves against the revolution
under the hypocritical banner of the League of Nations will strangle
the revolution'.47 At its First Congress an appeal was sent out to the
workers of all countries for their support, and Lenin declared:
'Comrades present in this hall saw how the first Soviet Republic was
established; they now witness the establishment of the Communist
International and they will see how a World Federative Republic will
be founded. '48 More will be said of the Comintern below.
For their part, the Entente and its clients were increasingly dis-
turbed, although, as during the cold war, many groups and factions
played the 'Communist bogey' for all it was worth in order to get the
recognition and support of the major powers. Representatives from

Poland and Rumania emphasised how much they needed sustenance
in their fight against Red Russia and Red Hungary; Italians stressed
the need for help against domestic upheaval, and so on. As the
various treaties came to be signed in 1919 and 1920, the effectiveness
of much of this special pleading was clearly revealed. For example,
the Treaty of St Germain of September 1919 with Austria made
Poland into a powerful independent buffer against Bolshevism. By
the Treaty of Trianon with Hungary in June 1920 Transylvania and
Bessarabia were incorporated into a southern buffer - Rumania. To
the north help of all kinds was given to the Baltic states (that is to the
regimes set up in them under German patronage) until their indepen-
dence from Soviet Russia was guaranteed. Lloyd George believed
that they might offer 'a means of peaceful penetration' .49
Lenin denounced the treaties in July 1919 as 'this unworthy re-
pressive peace' which was 'winning us friends throughout the world
every day'50 as it revealed the true nature of imperialism. The May
Day Manifesto oftheComintern in 1920 declared:
Conscious workers throughout the world know perfectly well that

the so-called League of Nations is in fact a League of bourgeois
robbers for the oppression of nations, for the division of the world,
for the enslavement of workers, for strangling the proletarian
revolution. 51
For a few months in 1920 the spectre of communism attained its

greatest proportions as the Red Army pushed the Poles back to
Warsaw, the fall of which was widely seen as the prelude to the fall of
Berlin. But the Red Star gave way to the White Eagle and the
Treaty of Riga of March 1921 followed an armistice arranged in
October 1920 and guaranteed a large Poland with a considerable
amount of territory to the east of the line previously drawn up on
its behalf by Lord Curzon. With such a central bastion for its
cordon sanitaire, the Entente could now breathe more easily and
contemplate some normalisation of relations with the Soviet
Union. From the Communist point of view, now that the block-
ade had been lifted and the last of the serious White threats was
coming to an inglorious end, normalisation was welcome too. And
so with the Anglo-Russian Trade Treaty of March 1921 the
'shooting war' for world revolution had come to an end.
Having established the context for the creation of the Third In-
ternational by a brief examination of its anti-thesis the Paris
Peace Conference and the League of Nations, we must now take a
closer look at the specific origins of the Comintern and its first
two congresses. Just as Woodrow Wilson's views were outstanding
in the great meeting of the representatives of the capitalist world, so
were Lenin's at the first assemblies of the advocates of world com-
munism. As Trotsky said, these two leaders were the antipodes of
their time. Ever since the 'treason' of the majority of European
socialists in 1914 had meant for him and a not inconsiderable num-
ber of others the death of the Second International, Lenin had been
thinking of the creation of another International more consistently
dedicated to the cause. He referred to it immediately after his return
to Petrograd in the 'April Theses' and then in his 'Letter to the Work-
ers of Europe and America' in January 1919 he wrote that:
... when the Spartakusbund called itself the 'Communist Party of

Germany', then the foundation of a really proletarian, really inter-
national, really revolutionary Third International, a Communist
International, became afact. Formally this foundation has not yet
been made secure, but in fact the Third International now already
exists.'2
The formalities were to follow just a couple of months later.

After a few smaller conferences to which foreign representatives
were invited, and many preparatory discussions among members of
the Soviet government, fifty or so delegates came to Moscow at the
beginning of March 1919 for the formal foundation of the Third
Communist International and its First Congress. Most of the dele-
gates were European, particularly from Russia and its neighbours,
and the language used was German, but there were 'consultative'
emissaries from China, Persia and Korea. One of the two German
delegates objected to such a small gathering taking it upon them-
selves to adopt a constitution:
Real communist parties exist in only a few countries; in most, they

have been created only in the last few weeks; in many countries
where there are communists today they have as yet no organisa-
tion .... What is missing is the whole of Western Europe. Bel-
gium, Italy are not represented; the Swiss representative cannot
speak in the name of the party; France, England, Spain, Portugal
are missing; and America is equally not in a position to say what
parties would support us. B
Nevertheless the meeting carried out its transformation into a con-

gress by unanimous vote, and soon drew up both a programme and a
manifesto. Zinoviev was made president of an executive committee,
and Karl Radek (at that time in a German prison) its secretary; the
committee was to look after the Comintern's affairs between con-

gresses. Lenin was of course the principal speaker, and devoted his
remarks to a defence of the Communist message, including the dicta-
torship of the proletariat, and an attack on 'bourgeois democracy',
vilified adherents of which were members of the discredited Second
International. Lenin appealed to workers everywhere to oppose in-
tervention and to render whatever assistance was within their power
to the beleaguered Soviet republic, the first home of true, proletarian
democracy. The Congress dispersed in a mood of bold optimism,
Trotsky writing on May Day 1919:
Moscow is the centre of the Third International, tomorrow - we

are profoundly convinced - this centre will move to the west: to
Berlin, Paris, London. However joyfully the Russian proletariat
welcomed the representatives of the working class of the world in
the walls of the Kremlin, it will with even greater joy send its repre-
sentatives to the second congress of the Communist International
in one of the Western European centres. For an international com-
munist congress in Berlin or Paris will mean the complete triumph
of the proletarian revolution in Europe and, probably, in the
whole world. 54
Tomorrow did not immediately come, and the Second Com intern
Congress met again in Moscow in July 1920. But the assembled
delegates were far from downhearted. Indeed, with the Red Army
deep into Poland and almost up to the gates of Warsaw,Berlin and
even Paris did not seem so far away at all. The mood of the meeting
was well caught by its president, Zinoviev:
In the congress hall hung a great map on which was marked every
day the movement of our armies. And the delegates every morning
stood with breathless interest before this map. It was a sort of
symbol: the best representatives of the international proletariat
with breathless interest, with palpitating heart, followed every ad-
vance of our armies, and all perfectly realised that, if the military
aim set by our army was achieved, it would mean an immense ac-
celeration of the international proletarian revolution."
The number of these excited delegates was two hundred or so, four
times the attendance at the First Congress, and thirty-five countries,
including a much better coverage of Europe and a less inadequate
coverage of Asia, were represented. The general confidence was
reflected in the smaller amount of attention given to appeals for sup-
port and the larger concentration on qualifications for membership
and correct strategy for the spread of revolution rather than last-
ditch defence.
Indeed the most striking document to come out of the Second
Congress of the Comintern was the so-called 'twenty-one con-
ditions' for membership. These called for 'iron discipline' and the
strict avoidance of compromise with basic principles. The 'dictator-
ship of the proletariat' was not just 'a current formula', but a concept
to be continually advocated in such a manner that ordinary working
people could understand it. 'Reformists of all shades', 'petty-
bourgeois elements' and 'social-patriots' were among class enemies
to be opposed outside the ranks of the Party and ruthlessly purged
from inside. Special attention was given in Condition 8 to the neces-
sity for 'a particularly explicit and clear attitude on the question of
the colonies and the oppressed peoples' in the Parties formed in
imperialist states. Lenin declared that 'The imperialist war drew the
dependent peoples into world history', and that their insurgency
must now be fostered wherever and whenever possible. But even with
anti-colonial movements, there would have to be purity of motive.
'The reactionary, medieval influence of clergy, missionaries and
other such elements' was denounced, but so were movements such as
Pan-Islamism and Pan-Turkism. 'Bourgeois democratic move-
ments' in the dependent countries could only be supported if they
genuinely opposed imperialist domination, and even this approach
was only accepted after a passionate debate. 56
Such attention given to the rest of the world did mean that the
Eurocentric focus of the Revolution was now being widened to make
its sphere of attention completely world-wide. Good news was recog-
nised as coming from the Caucasus as well as from Poland; with the
Black and Caspian Seas being opened up to the Red forces, Asia
could well now lie open to the influence of October. To mark such a
broadening of emphasis, the First Congress of the Toilers of the East
was held in Baku in early September 1920. Zinoviev reached new
heights of oratory:
The real revolution will blaze up only when we are joined by the
800,000,000 people who live in Asia, when the African continent
joins us, when we see hundreds of millions of people in the move-
ment .... When in 1914-1918 they spoke of a 'holy war', that was
a monstrous deception. But now, comrades, you who have for the
first time assembled in a congress of peoples of the East, must here
proclaim a real holy war, against the robbers, the Anglo-French
capitalists. Now we must say that the hour has sounded when the
workers of the whole world can arouse and raise up tens and hun-
dreds of millions of peasants, can form a Red Army in the East as
well, can arm and organise a revolt in the rear of the British, can
hurl fire against the bandits, can poison the existence of every inso-
lent British officer who is lording it in Turkey, Persia, India and
China. s7
The hour turned out not to have sounded, but as we shall see, there
was some basis for thinking so in the year 1920 and even beyond. By
1921, however, 'normalisation' of relations, which would mean in
the East continuance of empire, was more to be found in both Asia
and Europe than the continued threat of world revolution. A breath-
ing space was made necessary by domestic events too, notably the
Kronstadt Revolt,s8 although as Lenin argued, the internal and inter-
national situations were inextricably connected. s9 And so, the Third
Congress of the Comintern meeting in Moscow in July 1921 was not
so much a congress of victors as of hardened and somewhat chas-
tened warriors who realised that they were in for a long struggle
before the high hopes of 1919 and 1920 were finally realised. And at
the First Congress of the Toilers of the Far East that met in Moscow
and Petrograd in 1922, there came the reminder from such speakers
as Katayama Sen that, if the support given to the Kronstadt Revolt
by Miliukov and his associates in Europe constituted a threat to
Soviet Russia from the West, the Washington Conference had con-
firmed Great Britain, France, the USA and especially Japan in their
intention to persist in their harassment from the East. 60
5 The Western World
In this chapter we shall consider the impact of the three Russian

Revolutions, especially that of October, on the Western or indus-
trialised world. While the core of this world is Europe and North
America, included in it will also be the offshoot settlements of the
Southern Hemisphere - South Africa, Australia and New Zealand-
and Japan, an even more anomalous exception to prove the rule.
Bloody Sunday aroused immediate protests from many parts of
this Western world, the way having already been prepared by wide-
spread revulsion not only against the treatment of dissidents includ-
ing the Siberian exile system and the Jewish pogroms but also by
sympathy for the 1896 strike in St Petersburg, about which Felix Vol-
kovsky wrote in Free Russia (the London-based journal of the So-
ciety of Friends of Russian Freedom (SFRF:
It is evident that the main struggle for personal rights in Russia

will develop mainly on the basis of the workmen striving for the
bettering of their lives. In this context, strikes will be the most
powerful means, and a means which international sympathy and
pecuniary help can strengthen to a tremendous extent. ... Thus
the way that lies before the Friends of Russian Freedom is
obvious. When the Russian workers are driven into another strike
we should be found armed and ready to assist them in a few hours.
We must have ready cash in hand and good connections with all
important British labour organisations to be set in motion on the
first notice. 1
On 1 February 1905 at Queen's Hall, London, one of many protest

meetings against Bloody Sunday was duly convened by the SFRF in
conjunction with the Social Democratic Federation, the London
Trades Council, the Fabian Society and other organisations. A
Russian Strikers Relief Fund was set up and nearly a thousand
pounds raised in Britain by the end of May. In addition various kinds
of underground work were undertaken, including travel arrange-

ments to and from Russia for revolutionaries and probably some gun
running. 2 Here were sentiments and actions beyond the 'Christian
universalism coloured by a self-confident belief in the bounty of
English liberty ... a morality born of the buoyancy of Victorian
capitalism' which typified the outlook of many of the Friends of
Russian Freedom. The pressures of imperialism and of the growing
working-class movement were beginning to act on erstwhile liberals
in their ranks as well as socialists. 3 And after the defeat of his party in
the January 1906 General Election, the Conservative leader Balfour
declared: 'What is going on here is the faint echo of the same move-
ment which has produced massacres in St Petersburg, riots in
Vienna, and socialist processions in Berlin.'4
The impact of 1905 was indeed similar elsewhere in the Western
world. Meetings of support for the Revolution were held almost im-
mediately after its outbreak in Germany, France and the United
States, to give but three examples. The Leipziger Volkszeitung of 23
January 1905 declared: 'A Russian victory is a German victory, is a
European victory, is an international victory.' Later in 1906 Rosa
Luxemburg enlarged upon this theme, writing:
It would be completely mistaken to view the Russian Revolution

as a fine spectacle, as something specifically 'Russian', and to
enthuse from afar at best about the heroism of its fighters, in other
words, about the external accessories of the struggle. It is much
more important to teach the German workers that they have seen
in the Russian Revolution their own cause, not only in the sense of
international class solidarity with the Russian proletariat, but
above all a part oftheir own social and political history.
At the Jena Party Congress of September 1905 and at the Congress

of the Second International in Stuttgart in 1907 she helped to pro-
mote resolutions supporting such a view, which was also supported
in strikes of hundreds of thousands of workers in Berlin, Hamburg
and other German cities. But Eduard Bernstein was not without a
considerable measure of support for his belief that working-class
agitation should be for reform rather than revolution. In France
the influence of developments in Russia combined with internal
pressures such as the Dreyfus Affair to bring about the formation
of a united socialist party under Jean Jaures, although here, too,
cohesion was difficult to maintain between those who favoured the
parliamentary and those who favoured the more radical roads.'
In the United States Eugene Debs, Daniel De Leon and Bill
Haywood supported a resolution calling the cause of the Russian
THE WESTERN WORLD 105
workers the cause of workers everywhere at the inaugural meeting
of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) in the summer of
1905. But reformers to the centre and right were more cautious,
Teddy Roosevelt the trust-buster being concerned about the deterio-
ration in the Russian situation and partly for that reason using his in-
fluence to bring about a non-punitive conclusion to the
Russo-Japanese War.6 Other governments reacted in a more posi-
tive manner, Germany putting a whole squadron of warships at the
disposal of tsar ism in the Baltic and Austria-Hungary concentrating
three army corps on the Galician frontier.7
News of the February Revolution was slow to penetrate the out-
side world because the tsarist censorship was still in operation. The
major events had already taken place in Petrograd and Nicholas had
already abdicated when intimation of the beginnings of the great
upheaval was at last getting through. Partly because it was already an
accomplished fact, the Revolution was welcomed by the Western
allies and their newspapers. At the same time there was a con-
siderable variety among the interpretations given to February,
although nearly everybody was able to find something in it to satisfy
personal predilections. By and large the Revolution was attributed to
the Duma and the army, sometimes to the 'people', but hardly ever to
the workers and the left-wing politicians. Sympathy was often ex-
tended to Nicholas: George V sent a personal message of condo-
lence;8 and Lloyd George, although welcoming the abdication, wrote
warmly about the tsar to Prince Lvov, the Duma leader.9 News-
papers of right-wing persuasion advised the tsar to exercise restraint
so that the future of the dynasty would be assured. On the other hand
more liberal organs wrote that the Russian people themselves were
perfectly capable of choosing for themselves that form of govern-
ment which would best assure their liberty and ultimate victory.lO
The new Provisional Government in its first telegrammed message
to the world, it will be remembered, emphasised the determination of
the united people to fight on to a glorious conclusion of the war.
Western politicians and press saluted the Russian determination to
fight with renewed energy and more complete efficiency. The Times
of London declared on 16 March 1917:
It is still too soon for entire confidence in the issue, but the general
trend of events and the attitude of the army and the more import-
ant elements of the population justify the Allies of Russia in opti-
mism. They may well hope that she will emerge from the ordeal she
has undergone strong with the new strength of a united people who
are led by a constitutional Government of their own choosing
under the auspices of their historic dynasty.
More aware of what had actually happened, the French and British
ambassadors, PaU:ologue and Buchanan, sought assurances that the
Russians were indeed determined to carry the fight to the enemy, and
these Miliukov duly gave them. Thus reassured, the governments of
the Entente proceeded to establish relations with the new regime on
the same basis as with the old one, i.e. continuance of the war until a
successful conclusion. The ambassador of Russia's more recent ally,
David Francis of the USA, was also convinced by Miliukov, and
urged his government to recognise the Provisional Government. On
9 March (22 March New Style), the USA, France and Great Britain,
as well as Italy, duly communicated their decision to grant such rec-
ognition.u
But this positive step by the Allies and the continued eloquence of
Miliukov could not engender complete mutual confidence. While the
position of the Provisional Government did not appear completely
certain, while the Soviets talked in a loud voice of matters other than
of victory, even of a more immediate peace, was the 'anarchy' of the
revolutionary days indeed suppressed, and were the 'extreme left-
wing elements' really under control? The Provisional Government's
representatives in London and Paris, K. Nabokov and A. Izvolsky
respectively, reported that there was profound uncertainty and con-
cern about these questions in the Western capitals, and the Japanese
leaders in the Far East seemed worried, too. A former American am-
bassador asserted that the situation had deteriorated to the point
where only Witte could control it. The British General Knox and
other military attaches were doing all they could to instil martial
vigour into the detachments with which they came in contact, but
sometimes such strength was found where it did not exist. 12
The Central Powers could also be guilty of wishful thinking, but
in their case aspiration more closely matched reality, for they
rightly saw the overthrow of Nicholas as an indicator of a weaken-
ing rather than strengthening of the will to fight on to the end. The
likelihood had grown of a separate peace, which would eliminate
the necessity of a war on two fronts. Listening to the ringing declar-
ations of the Provisional Government, however, the German auth-
orities began to entertain the suspicion that the Allies had
deliberately engineered the February Revolution for their own mili-
taristic ends. Fraternisation at the front allayed fears of a new
threat on the Eastern front to some extent, but also raised the ques-
tion of the subversion of the German and other armies of the Cen-
tral Powers - the overthrow of one monarchy could after all lead to
that of others, even of the monarchical principle as a whole. Kaiser
William was worried, and conservatives in the Reichstag began to
contemplate the unthinkable, namely concessions to the democratic
aspirations of their own people in order to protect their power and
that of their emperor. 13
German Social Democrats, on the other hand, gave a less qualified
welcome to the February Revolution, as did socialists in German-
occupied Eastern Europe. To the West William Gallacher later
remembered the joyful reception given to the event by himself and his
friends in Scotland, with banners proclaiming 'Free Russia' going up
in street demonstrations in Glasgow. 14 Italian socialists, like their
comrades elsewhere, could now give their support to the idea of a war
for democracy. IS
The leader of the Japanese socialists, Sakai Yasaburo, wrote that
'The Russian Revolution is indeed a very great joy', and a colleague
considered that 'the speed of movement of revolutionary thought
through the whole world, thanks to the Russian Revolution, will al-
l.eviate our position and create a more favourable moment for our
own revolutionary movement.'16
While the welcome given to February by the left everywhere was
warmly enthusiastic, there was widespread disagreement about its
significance, particularly as far as the war was concerned. Most lib-
erals and right-wing socialists sent fraternal greetings to the victors in
Petrograd together with a call to joint efforts in the common struggle
right up to the final victory. But a minority of Labour leaders in
Britain put the emphasis on 'the cause of democracy and peace in
Europe and throughout the world'I' French colleagues voiced simi-
lar sentiments. And so, to give a boost to sagging spirits as the Pro-
visional Government began to run into difficulties, the British and
French governments both encouraged socialist delegations to visit
democratic Russia, hoping that the war effort would thus be encour-
aged.
However left-wingers from the Entente nations talked of the
Russian Revolution as a powerful blow struck for proletarian solid-
arity against the imperialist war. Antonio Gramsci wrote in April
1917: 'We are persuaded that the Russian Revolution is proletarian
in character, as it has been so far in its deeds, and that it will naturally
result in a socialist regime.'18 The newspaper Avanti said in a leading
article of 6 April:
The French Revolution led in our continent to a change in the

political order. It may be hoped that the Russian Revolution will
lead to a change in the social order. In the nineteenth century free
institutions gradually spread from France to other European
countries. In the twentieth century a new social order spreads from
Russia to all Europe.
G. Serrati, the editor of A vanti, asserted that the Russian Revolution

would not be completed until the land belonged to the peasants and
the factories to the workers. A celebratory meeting in Paris in April
produced cries from the hall of 'Long live the Third International',
'Down with war' and 'Long live peace'. In London the Daily Herald
talked of the necessity of setting up Soviets in Great Britain, and of
welcoming the great events in Russia with a British sequel. 19 Lloyd
George reflected the anxiety that such declarations produced in his
War Memoirs.20 Meanwhile a speaker at a meeting in Winnipeg told
his Canadian hearers that now that the autocracy had been over-
thrown and Nicholas had abdicated, the people must move ahead
from the Provisional Government to a government of workers and
socialists, while Eugene Debs and others voiced similar sentiments in
the USA. The Norwegian socialist leader M. Tranmael summarised
the situation thus:
It must be hoped that the spark that has ignited with such a bright
flame in Russia will also flare up everywhere in Europe and Amer-
ica and that this revolution which initially took on the character of
a struggle for bourgeois freedoms will culminate in a socialist
revolution. 21
In Germany the Social Democrats who had at first voted for war
credits because the struggle was against tsarism were now caught in a
dilemma, although their newspaper Vorwarts pointed out that they
did not want civil strife during time of war. At the beginning of April
1917 dissident left-wingers in the Workers Group convened the ini-
tial assembly of the Independent Social Democratic Party (USPD).
The delegates came out for the cessation of the war and the democra-
tisation of the German state order, albeit through peaceful parlia-
mentarianism rather than revolutionary violence. Hugo Haase and
other leading figures charged the members of the Reichstag not to
delay reforms lest the masses begin to act together in the Russian
manner. The more extreme leaders of the Spartacus League (a frac-
tion of the USPD) were in prison at the time, but Rosa Luxemburg
was able to write to her comrades outside in April 1917:
The miraculous events taking place in Russia are acting upon me

like the elixir oflife. What is going on there is for us all a tonic piece
of news. I fear that you do not value it highly enough, do not suf-
ficiently accept that what is winning there is our own cause.
Another Spartacus leader, Fritz Heckert declared: 'The red banner

which is being unfurled in Petersburg over the Winter Palace is for us
an inspiring symbol. Turning to the Russian proletarians, we exclaim
- we will do the same.' The kaiser would have to go the same way as
the tsar, and events soon occurred which gave some indication that
he might indeed be about to do so. Mass strikes in April provoked by
a cut in the bread ration were a mighty portent: 300,000 workers
came out in Berlin; and in Leipzig proclamations specifically said:
'The Russian workers have given us an outstanding example. Follow
their example. Yielding to such pressure, William II talked in his
Easter message of electoral reform in Prussia, and the parties in the
Reichstag began to talk more earnestly of internal change and of in-
ternational peace, thus laying the foundations for the coalition of the
Weimar period.l l
As the year 1917 wore on and the revolutionary momentum gath-
ered speed rather than slowed down in Russia, agitation grew rather
than diminished in many parts of the Western world. In Great
Britain the United Socialist Council which had been revived under
the influence of the February Revolution promoted in June a Con-
vention at Leeds where, according to John Paton (the Aberdonian
who was to play an important part in. the formation of the Indepen-
dent Labour Party), the delegates 'spent a deliriously happy weekend
in bold talk of what they hoped to do. There had even .been mention
of the new Russian device of Workers' and Soldiers' Council.'23 As
the Convention opened, a message was read out from a unit in the
Royal Army Medical Corps stating that
We should very much like to see the establishment of a society on

lines similar to those of the Council of Soldiers' and Workmen's in
Russia, for we are quite convinced that the great majority of men
in the Army are in sympathy with the Russian aims.24
The fourth resolution passed by the Convention did indeed set up

such a council, with Ramsay Macdonald and the twelve other con-
veners as its central committee, but none of these would give much
support to William Gallacher, whose speech was briefly reported in
the Daily Herald for 9 Junethus:
This conference seems to be agreed that the Russian Revolution is

definitely settled. But is it? No. The Russian workers' and soldiers'
delegates have the biggest fight on, not against the capitalists of
Russia, but against the capitalists of other countries who are deter-
mined that they have to be beaten back. Give your own capitalist
Ito RUSSIAN REVOLUTION'S AND THEIR IMPACT
class in this country so much to do that it won't have time to attend
to it. 2 '
The tension between the reforming and revolutionary impulses was

personified by the seconder of the fourth resolution and one of the
conveners, W. C. Anderson, who now spoke in fiery-enough terms
but had used very different language in the House of Commons
barely a month before. At Leeds Anderson declared:
If a revolution be the conquest of political power by an hitherto

disinherited class, ifrevolution be that we are not going to put up
in the future with what we have put up with in the past, we are not
going to have the shams and poverty of the past, then the sooner
we have revolution in this country the better.
But at Westminster he had said:
What you are now doing by coercive laws, by repressive laws, by

the penal side of the Munitions Act, and so on, is to try to dam up
all the current of discontent, but that current will not be dammed
up. I do assure you you will be astonished, and unless you are very
careful you will bring the country to the very verge of revolution.
Only a week ago, I saw 70,000 people - the estimate was made not
by any labour people, but by one of the local newspapers - march
through the streets of Glasgow with bands and banners, everyone
of the members of that procession wearing the revolutionary
colours. That is an amazing thing to happen in a city like Glasgow.
I say that to a very large extent it is the policy of the Government
that is responsible for that. Now you have to choose whether you
are going to apply increasing repressions to these men, or whether
you are going to try to establish confidence and a sense of freedom.
That is really the issue. I hope that in what I have said this after-
noon I have avoided anything that would increase passion, any-
thing likely to make matters worse. I do hope the reply we may
receive from the Government Front Bench will be an answer that
will help to tone down or to remove that unrest that undoubtedly
now exists.
The tension was there already right enough, but before the year was
out it was to become much more strained. As Ralph Miliband rightly
puts it:
THE WESTERN WORLD III
The Leeds Convention had fortuitously brought together the
revolutionaries and the constitutionalists. But the gulf between
them remained as profound as it had ever been and the instaura-
tion of the Bolshevik regime in November 1917 only served to
widen thatgulf.26
After the November instauration or October Revolution, the

Russian Communists, like Marx and Engels in 1848, turned their at-
tention 'chiefly to Germany', and largely for the same reasons:
... because that country is on the eve of a bourgeois revolution

that is bound to be carried out under more advanced conditions of
European civilisation, and with a much more developed proleta-
riat, than that of England was in the seventeenth, and of France in
the eighteenth century, and because the bourgeois revolution in
Germany will be but the prelude to an immediately following pro-
letarian revolution. 27
Lenin would want to add that Germany was also more advanced
than Russia and its proletariat similarly more developed. As the
German autocracy neared collapse, so there loomed up the prospect
of a German February, to be followed inexorably by a German
October.
Such a scenario appeared to be unfolding when, after orders
from its admiral on 28 October and again on 30 October, the High
Seas Fleet refused to put to sea from Kiel for one last expedition
against its British enemy. The mutineers put forward radical de-
mands: an end to the war, the abdication of William II, the abol-
ition of martial law, the extension of the suffrage to all adults, and
the release of sailors arrested in the earlier mutiny of 1917. The
trouble soon spread throughout Kiel; a general strike of dockers
ensued immediately, and on 4 November elections took place of
workers' and soldiers' councils, which promptly assumed control
of the city and of the garrison. By 6 November the insurgent move-
ment spread to Hamburg, Bremen and LUbeck, and within days
down from the north to nearly all of the major cities, as far as
Bavaria.
The revolt had begun and spread 'spontaneously', but as in the
case of the Russian February this 'spontaneity' needs to be defined
and qualified. Not only February itself but also October had cer-
tainly made a considerable impression on the minds of German
workers and servicemen. Delay of peace with Russia had already
caused a munitions strike in January 1918. Moreover, towards the
end of 1918 there were uprisings of various kinds throughout Central

Europe, heavily involved it is true with the nationalist issues that had
long constituted a powerful centrifugal force in Austria-Hungary,
but also more than a little tinged with the Red wave sweeping west-
wards from Petrograd. In Prague there had been Czech nationalist
action with socialist overtones throughout October. A republic -
whose significance was variously interpreted according to political
persuasion - was declared in the same month, and the empire of the
Habsburgs appeared to be nearing its final dissolution. This threat-
ened collapse could not avoid being of dire import for the Hohenzol-
lerns too. The position of the kaiser was not helped by American
proposals for armistice which gave a strong pointer towards abdica-
tion. Similar thoughts were already occurring to members of the
Reichstag, who passed fairly sweeping constitutional reforms in
October, but were still wondering if they had gone far enough. The
new chancellor, Prince Max von Baden - who was now responsible
to the Reichstag - and his cabinet strove to hold the parliamentary
regime together with the assistance of the moderate political parties.
These included the SPD, whose leaders, according to The Times of 6
November 1918, 'have issued a leaflet urging comrades and workers
not to neglect their work during the next few days and not to demon-
strate in the streets as they have been urged to do by unsigned leaflets
and verbal instigations'. Even most members of the USPD were for
restraint, the all-important exception being the Spartacus League led
by Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg. Both in the longer term,
at least from 1905 onwards, and now in the shorter, after their release
from custody along with other political prisoners in October, Liebk-
necht and Luxemburg and their comrades did all they could to bring
socialist revolution in Germany, looking for a model and a lead
chiefly to Russia. Now, particularly, they were agitating among the
shop stewards for an intensification of the movement that had begun
in Kiel at the end of October.
The shop stewards were somewhat hesitant, mostly because their
trade-union consciousness was deeply engrained by an historical ex-
perience differing considerably from that of their Russian counter-
parts. Some analysts of the German situation in 1918 and the
immediately following years would call such an interpretation of the
hesitancy of the shop stewards unnecessarily fatalistic. At the begin-
ning of November 1918 and at other crucial moments, they would
argue, the irresolution of their leaders betrayed the workers and their
cause. But to attribute to any given group an inordinate amount of
what is in any case an unquantifiable, even indefinable characteristic
is to defy rational explanation. Such qualities as 'determination' and
'courage' have to be given equal distribution throughout mankind if
there is to be a sensible discussion of their application. We cannot
say, unless we wish to be racialist, that German workers' leaders
lacked in 1918-19 something that their Russian comrades possessed.
Moreover, although again differences of historical development are
reflected here, the ideology of the Spartacists differed significantly
from that of the Bolsheviks, and the type of political direction that
Rosa Luxemburg for one was prepared to offer explicitly rejected the
specifications of Lenin. True, the Spartacists also rejected the parlia-
mentary road completely and believed in progress exclusively
through the dictatorship of the proletariat. As one of their declar-
ations put it on 7 October 1918:
The struggle for real democratisation is not concerned with parlia-

mentary franchises or parliamentary ministers, or similar
swindles; it is concerned with the real basis of all enemies of the
people: ownership of land and capital, and power over the armed
forces and over justice.
But Luxemburg had long rejected Lenin's concept of the Party as

leader and preferred to regard the self-conscious masses as the spear-
head of revolution. Possibly her experience of the German Social
Democrats was as responsible for her antipathy towards the bureau-
cratic control of a political party as her disagreement with the argu-
ments of Lenin's What Is To Be Done? The Spartacists were also
somewhat restrained in their attitude towards another of Lenin's re-
commendations, the use of force as prescribed by him in another of
his works, The State and Revolution. In late 1918 they talked of the
necessity for the 'formation of a Red Guard with the workers as the
active part of the militia for the permanent protection of the revol-
ution against counter-revolutionary attacks and intrigues.' 'Defence
of the revolution' had been one of the principal avowed intentions of
the Russian Red Guards, too, but Luxemburg and especially Liebk-
necht drew back from resorting to violence in a manner which would
have been foreign to both Lenin and Trotsky. The fastidiousness of
the Spartacist leaders combined with the restraint of the shop stew-
ards to make the chances of success for the German Revolution not
very high from the beginning.
They were further reduced by the essential cohesion of the parties
in the Reichstag, offering a united front to the threat from outside the
parliamentary framework. When mass demonstrations began in
Berlin on 9 November Prince Max von Baden began immediate
arrangements for the abdication of the kaiser, the setting up of a
Regency and the election of a German Constituent National
Assembly. This was showing a spirit similar to that of Prince Lvov,

the leader of the Russian Duma. But unlike that body, the last im-
perial German government already had socialists in its ranks, the two
SPD leaders, Scheidemann and Bauer, who had been brought in
when Hindenburg and Ludendorff, the virtual military dictators,
had recognised the virtual impossibility of victory and had urged the
kaiser to form a coalition in October 1918. So now, as the kaiser ab-
dicated, Prince Max could give an impression of legality and con-
tinuity by his appointment of Friedrich Ebert, chairman of the SPD,
to the position of chancellor and regent.
Soon Ebert found himselfin a Kerensky-like 'dual power' predica-
ment, for while to the army, bureaucracy and middle class he was
legalIy appointed head of state, to the Berlin masses he was leader of
a revolution. In the second of these two capacities, Ebert yielded to
popular pressure and to demands from Liebknechtfor 'alI power to
the Soviets' sufficiently to participate in a meeting of workers' and
soldiers' councils hastily brought together under joint SPD-USPD
sponsorship. A Council of Peoples' Representatives was set up with a
Social Democrat and an Independent Social Democrat appointed to
control between them each Reich ministry. Unlike their Russian col-
leagues, the bureaucrats were reconciled to the new arrangements,
recognising in them a restraint on more deterioration in their pos-
ition and trusting with some justification in their ability to keep the
politicians in check. Ebert himself went to the War Ministry, adding
another title to that of chancelIor and chairman of the Council of
Peoples' Representatives. It was in his new capacity that Ebert was
able to resolve Germany's 'dual power' situation by doing a deal with
the army. In a famous telephone conversation of lO November with
General Groener, who had taken over as quartermaster-general
from Ludendorff, and who spoke with the approval of the supreme
commander, Hindenburg, Ebert agreed to give the army his govern-
ment's fulI recognition in exchange for military support in the sup-
pression of Bolshevism and maintenance of domestic stability. The
Independent Socialists were not happy with such a direction in
policy; and the Spartacists, together with some of the shop stewards
and left-wing workers, were moved to reverse it.
The showdown came after a Reich Congress of workers' and sold-
iers' councils in December. Ebert had reluctantly acquiesced to the
Congress in the more radical of his roles, but did all he could to stop
the councils from arrogating to themselves the power and function of
the Reichstag. The success of his efforts was reflected in the closing
resolution ofthe Congress:
The Reich Congress of workers' and soldiers' councils in Ger-

many, representing total political power, hereby transfers legis-
lative and executive powers to the Council of Peoples'
Representatives until such times as the National Assembly make
other arrangements.
The majority SPD representation at the Congress had been able to

restrain the extremist handful. Nationalisation of industry had been
rejected on the grounds that it would make easier Allied assessments
for reparation purposes, collectivisation of agriculture on the basis
of the disruption it might cause at a crucial point in the farming cal-
endar. On the other hand, a more sweeping stand had been taken on
the army - replacement of the standing force by a people's militia,
election by the other ranks of officers, and the assumption of the su-
preme command by the Council of Peoples' Representatives. But all
this could be reversed by the National Assembly after a Constituent
Assembly had met in January 1919. And neither the army nor the
extreme left was prepared to stand idly by to wait and see.
At first the Spartacists and their allies appeared to be gaining the
upper hand. The USPD withdrew from the Council of Peoples'
Representatives after Ebert had used troops to suppress an insurrec-
tion of a 'peoples' naval division' in Berlin in late December 1918,
and the militants among them - the Spartacists and other groups
from Berlin and Bremen in particular - came together to form the
Communist Party of Germany, the KPD. The troops had found it
difficult to overcome their ill-organised opponents, and the way now
seemed open to the new Communist leadership to press home their
advantage. But appearances were deceptive, for if the remnants of
the old army lacked organisation and will-power, a freshly levied
body, the Freikorps, was to show more than enough of the appro-
priate fighting qualities. The Freikorps, which has been called the pri-
vate army of the SPD, was put together by the Social Democrat
Gustav Noske, a new member of the Council of Peoples' Representa-
tives after the withdrawal of the USPD. Noske, who had already
made something of a name for himself as a mediator during the Kiel
insurrection, now managed the assembly in Berlin suburbs of various
volunteer units composed partly of ex-soldiers and partly of raw re-
cruits. Ebert gave his support, and General Groener promised rein-
forcements from what was left of the regular army - the resulting
combination constituting more than enough to defeat the threat
from the left.
The revolutionaries for their part also possessed some armed
detachments, and, for all their widespread pacifism, did not in the
end shrink from violence to the good of their cause. In early January
1919 confrontation between the opposing forces grew much nearer
as, following the dismissal from the post of Berlin chief of police of a
USPD sympathiser, the masses took again to the streets and a revol-
utionary committee was created headed by a three-man presidium
including Liebknecht. Rosa Luxemburg and the Soviet emissary,
Karl Radek, were dissentient voices as the others decided that the
moment had come for the German October. But there was no
German Military Revolutionary Committee and no Red Guard.
After some savage street fighting, the Freikorps was triumphant, and
thousands of their opponents were killed; Liebknecht and Luxem-
burg were brutally murdered, ostensibly while trying to escape.
(Radek was arrested, and kept alive in custody.) The German Revol-
ution came to a virtual conclusion by the middle of January 1919,
although there was another flare up in March. There was some sup-
port from the rest of Germany. Bremen sympathisers rose up in Jan-
uary, but were promptly crushed by the Freikorps. In Bavaria, where
the USPD leader Kurt Eisner had dominated the Munich Workers'
Council, a Soviet Republic was declared in early April, but by I May
- ironically - troops reoccupied the city, and there was little or no
support from the rural hinterland, although some in Augsburg. And
the Bavarian alignment was more or less repeated in the other
German states: there were peoples' representatives in the adminis-
tration, but only a small minority of would-be revolutionaries -
many more Eberts and Scheidemanns than Liebknechts and Luxem-
burgs. And extremist workers were also small in number.
In January 1919 the Constituent Assembly was elected, with the
socialist parties forming the biggest single group but not winning
outright. Meanwhile the radical left had to try to put itself back into
shape. The KPD was affiliated with the Third International, but its
membership was minute, barely more than 30,000. As for the USPD,
its ranks swelled during 1919 from about a third of a million to nearly
a million, and it still talked of moving away from parliamentary
representation, of striving for the dictatorship of the proletariat.
There was much debate within the party about the advisability of
leaving the Second International for the Third, the decision in favour
and a consequent split in the party coming in October 1920 at the
annual conference under pressure from Zinoviev and Radek. The
USPD left now aligned itself with the KPD, and battled on against
opposition from the armed forces and from the government. The
humiliation of Versailles meant reverses for the SPD in elections to
the Reichstag in April 1920, and a coalition of the centre now took
over the government, but the extreme left held its own in the elections
and showed its strength in the previous month when organising a
general strike in opposition to the rightist Kapp putsch. If Germany
was not to have an October, neither did its would-be Kornilov get
THE WESTERN WORLD II?
any further than the original.
So the Weimar regime carried on its middle-of-the-road way
resisting threats from right and left. Hitler's 'beer hall' putsch came to
nothing in Munich in 1923; the KPD got nowhere in the March
action of 1921. Lenin, it is true, was hoping for more during the more
successful periods of the war against Poland than his denunciations
of the putschist tactics of Zinoviev and Radek would sometimes sug-
gest. But he was also coming round to the understanding that, as
world revolution was failing in the short run at least, the two great
powers excluded from the Versailles Conference were being pushed
together, and that some accommodation would have to be reached
between the Soviet Republic and Weimar. Not only would this rap-
prochement bring some stability and security to a Central Europe
which had experienced more than its fair share of the ravages of war
and internal discord, but it would also be of mutual advantage to two
ravaged economies. Soviet Russia could offer some agricultural
surplus and vast mineral deposits, Weimar Germany machinery and
technological expertise. Moreover the German forces could train in
the remote depths of the Russian steppe far away from the inquisitive
eyes of the Allied War Control Commission. The agreement was
realised with the Treaty of Rapallo of April 1922, and the KPD now
resigned itselfto building up its formal strength in a manner strongly
reminiscent of the vilified SPD in the later nineteenth century. 28
In this somewhat bare account of developments in Germany at the
end of the war and during the years immediately following, there has
been insufficient attention paid to its context, to the feverish expec-
tations and anguished apprehensions that swept throughout not only
Germany but the whole of Europe in this hectic period. This de-
ficiency might be partially rectified as we turn to look at the conti-
nental setting of the rise and fall of the principal Communist hopes
for the explosion of world revolution from a Russo-German nuc-
leus. An important link was of course the conflict between the Reds
and their opponents in Poland, the Baltic provinces and the Ukraine
which have received mention in the previous chapter. Almost as cen-
tral to the thoughts of Lenin and his associates for at least a few
months were the events taking place in Hungary.
The junior partner in the Habsburg dual monarchy was of a some-
what brittle social structure even before the onslaught of the war.
The chief source of tension was between city and country. Budapest
was not only the most industrialised centre but also the home of
much of its non-Magyar population - German, Italian and especially
Jewish. The Jews of Budapest not only predominated in industry but
also controlled most of the city's newspapers and were very active in
cultural life in general. The countryside was Magyar and Catholic,
anti-semitic and landlord-dominated. Something of a representative

form of government had developed in the capital, but was not very
discernible elsewhere, when in October 1918 Hungary, like Germany
and Russia, adopted a liberal democratic form of government as the
imperial regime was collapsing. Count Michael Karolyi was
appointed prime minister by Franz Josefin his role as King of Hun-
gary, but already crowds in Budapest were proclaiming the arrival of
a republic. In January 1919 there were more demonstrations in the
capital favouring social reforms and opposing the demand of the
Entente powers for the cession of Transylvania to Rumania. Unable
to provide much satisfaction on either issue, Karolyi resigned in
March; and the United Socialist Party, which had been one of the
members of his coalition, proclaimed on 21 March the creation of the
Hungarian Soviet Republic.
The Hungarian United Socialist Party was hampered by an imper-
fect structure produced by the unbalanced social foundations.
Although aspiring to mass and widespread support, it had a follow-
ing of about three quarters of a million workers, nearly all from
Budapest. Its leadership was mostly Jewish, and mostly from the
younger generation of wealthy industrial families, and fanatically
Marxist, with the Communist Bela Kun fresh from Moscow as the
Hungarian Lenin. But Bela Kun and his associates lacked the tactical
flexibility of Lenin and the Bolsheviks. To give the most important
example, they made no concerted attempt to win over the peasants,
advocating a policy of total nationalisation and collectivisation
rather than at least a transitional phase of small-scale individual
landholding. The peasants - who often found that their former
owners were appointed as state farm managers, who were intensely
suspicious of a new currency being introduced, particularly since the
introducers were the 'Jews of Budapest' - presented a solid front of
sullen opposition to the new regime. In Budapest itself revolutionary
zeal took the form of a widespread Terror which brought about the
loss of much former support, and the government increasingly
depended on outside aid and the promise of it. Partly because of the
new international dimension, and partly because of the old strategem
of relieving social tensions through a vigorous foreign policy, the
Hungarian army struck out into Slovakia, where there was a large
minority Hungarian population and where links could be
strengthened with Soviet Russia. The Hungarian troops moved in
during May 1919 and were given an enthusiastic welcome; and in
June the creation of a Slovakian Soviet Republic was proclaimed
under their protection. This fresh addition to the Communist
brotherhood lasted less than a month. The Czechs, who were for
national self-determination more than the spread of communism,
especially as they came to identify the hated Hungarians as the main
agency for such a development, opposed it. The Slovaks themselves
were less than happy at being pressed into the Hungarian army. And
the Entente powers pressed with a blockade for a withdrawal ac-
companied by the quid pro quo of Rumanian withdrawal from Hun-
gary. The invader army duly left Slovakia before the end of June, and
the Soviet Republic duly collapsed, soon to be followed by its Hun-
garian instigator. With the Rumanians still encroaching rather than
moving back and the Red grasp even on Budapest no longer sure, the
white Admiral Horthy, with strong peasant support, was soon able
to assume power and to hold it until 1944 - a long command of a state
instead of a non-existent navy.29
Some kind of stability soon returned to the rest of Eastern Europe.
At the heart of the old Habsburg Empire, Austria itself, a somewhat
rootless Weimar-type government emerged - a coalition between
conservatives and social democrats but, now that they had lost their
imperial responsibilities, aspiring for the union with Germany which
the Allies had ruled out. 30 States previously within the orbit of the
two other deceased empires, the Hohenzollern and the Romanov -
Poland and the Baltic states - we have glanced at in the previous
chapter, but some attention remains to be given to the Balkans. Here,
the stability was no more than comparative, more assured than
before the war but always threatened by potentially explosive dis-
putes, fuelled by fervent nationalism and much coloured by the
possibility of Red revolution. At the centre of the area and of the
problem was Macedonia, split between Yugoslavia and Greece with
some of its people placed under Bulgarian rule. A passionate and ter-
roristic Macedonian nationalist organisation agitated for indepen-
dence from Yugoslavia and Greece and a merger with Bulgaria. Its
activities resulted in the assassination of the head of the Bulgarian
government, followed by a savagely crushed Communist attempt at
takeover in Sofia, and subsequent fruitless raids on Yugoslavia and
Greece. Yugoslavia was also rent by the rivalry between Serbs and
Croats, but put into some semblance of order with the imposition of
a monarchical dictatorship in 1929. Greece, on the other hand, be-
came a republic in 1924 and managed to survive domestic problems,
such as nearly a million and a half refugees, along with a number of
frontier disputes, notably with Turkey and Albania (the latter being
ruled officially by Ahmed Bey Zogu, from 1928 King Zog I, and un-
officially for much of the time by Italy). And so the powder keg of the
Balkans did not ignite after the First World War as it had done
before, even though the Red flag was now raised to fan the flames of
nationalism. There and in the rest of Eastern Europe new states were
formed out of the ruins of old empires and the devastation of war
without any lasting expansion of communism beyond the Soviet

Russian borders. On the other hand enough support had been given
to such a spread for a movement to be built up which would experi-
ence much greater success after the Second World War in the aII-
important presence of the Red Army.31
Taking a similarly long view, we could say that the shape of things
to come after the Second World War was revealed after the First
World War in Western Europe, too; in other words, that the origins
of what has become known as Eurocommunism are to be found to
some extent in the manner in which the various Communist parties
first came to be formed. The precedent in this direction was set in
Germany by the merger of the KPD 'intelligentsia' with the USPD
'proletariat' in December 1920; both French and Italian political de-
velopments soon went along similar lines. The French Socialist Party
had been wondering for some time before this whether or not to af-
filiate with the Third International when the 21 conditions came to
be debated at a party congress which met at Tours towards the end of
December 1920. Emissaries returning from the Moscow Congress
were in favour, and Clara Zetkin smuggled herself in to plead for the
good of the Comintern cause. There was opposition, notably from
Leon Blum, but the anti-Communist trade union leadership had no
weight at the congress, and so the proposal was accepted by a con-
siderable majority and the French Socialist Party was renamed the
French Communist Party. The moderates formed their own party,
and a year later the trade union movement split between the two par-
ties. In early 1921 the Italian Socialists got together at Livorno. Dele-
gates from the Comintern were present, as was G. Serrati, leader of
the Italian delegation to its second congress. A strong left wing
emerged, for unconditional acceptance of the '21 conditions', and a
passionate right-wing view, almost as strongly opposed to accept-
ance. Serrati was spokesman for the largest group, the centre, which
came out in favour of the acceptance of the '21 conditions' but also,
in clear contradiction to the 21 st, of continued co-operation with the
socialist right. The contradiction finally led to a vote in favour of the
secession of the Italian Socialist Party from the Comintern, with
A. Bordiga, who had first proposed the 21st condition in Moscow,
leading the left wing to the formation of the Italian Communist
Party. Of course more immediately significant events than the social-
ist split were occurring in Italy in 1921, to a considerable extent en-
couraged by it. The former socialist, Mussolini, was building up the
strength of his movement to defeat that of the workers after the
March on Rome in 1922 and the formation of the Fascist govern-
ment. The Italian left was to be suppressed until the end of the
Second World War, by which time it had learned some lessons about
the consequences of its own disunity. The French left, although
sometimes successful at elections and never persecuted, was also div-
ided, too much so to rule.32
I n Italy and to a lesser extent France, the years 1917-21 were dis-
turbed and often violent, reflecting not only the chaos attending the
conclusion of the First World War and the years immediately follow-
ing it, but also the impact of the Russian Revolution. Perhaps the
Iberian peninsula, although not deeply involved in the war and most
remote from Moscow, experienced the greatest amount of social dis-
location in Western Europe, but there was a radical, even would-be
revolutionary upsurge in the Low Countries as well, partly because
of their contiguity with Germany. In Holland, for example, accord-
ing to the historian Pieter Geyl writing in The Encyclopaedia Britan-
nica:
Mr. Troelstra, the Socialist leader, his imagination fired by the

spectacle of the German revolution, toyed with the idea of imitat-
ing it among his own people. The attempt was a ludicrous failure.
The Government took strong measures and the people rallied to
them, and after an excited week quiet was restored on 21
November 1918. The Socialist party, which had been far from
unanimous about this adventurous policy, re-entered the path of
constitutionalism, and Mr. Troelstra, who resigned the leadership
in 1925 owing to ill-health, never regained his old prestige.
To the north, in newly independent Finland, all the firmness ofGen-

era I Mannerheim was called for to maintain order, while there was a
wave of unrest throughout adjacent Scandinavia, in, for example, the
'revolutionary' railway strike of December 1920 and national strike
of May 1921 in NorwayY
Across the sea, in Great Britain, October also made its impact.
Although the violence involved was on a much smaller scale than in
many parts of Europe, the 'battle' of George Square in Glasgow in
January 1919 appeared to be the beginning of a British or at least a
Scottish communist revolution to some observers, although some
opponents might have been more certain than many supporters. One
of the major participants, William Gallacher, wrote in his autobi-
ographical Revolt on the Clyde:
We were being isolated and encircled with enemies, but we had

possibilities of winning great new forces to our side if we had only
the necessary revolutionary understanding and audacity. Revolt
was seething everywhere, especially in the army. We had within
our own hands the possibility of giving actual expression and lead-
ership to it, but it never entered our heads to do so. We were carry-
ing on a strike when we ought to have been making a revolution. 34
More confidently the secretary of state for Scotland said that 'it was a
misnomer to call the situation in Scotland a strike - it was a Bolshe-
vist rising', and he and his colleagues in the War Cabinet, still in
existence, kept troops in readiness on a war footing in case the situ-
ation should deteriorate. 35
If the revolutionary aspirations of John Maclean and others were
not realised, the British workers did make a considerable
contribution to the consolidation of the first Communist state
through the 'Hands Off Russia' movement which grew in early 1920.
Later on in the same year a Council of Action was formed in London
with affiliates elsewhere to arrange an immediate strike to stop the
interventionist war. The successful White defence of Warsaw
reduced the apparent threat of the export of Red revolution, and the
capitalist British and Soviet Russian governments were soon talking
about a more peaceful form of commerce. Meanwhile, in August
1920, the Communist Party of Great Britain was formed from a
number of radical groups, its initial membership being small but
dedicated and including several participants in the councils of
action. 36 By 1922, hopes for mass support for the CPGB or for Soviet
Russia were fading and the Party journal The Communist lamented
on 17 June:
Four generations of industrial capitalism have bred a class so

pathetically loyal to existing institutions that almost any crime is
regarded with less abhorrence than attacks upon the framework of
society. Every thinking capitalist is amazed at this stolid con-
servatism, however much he secretly rejoices. It is worth battalions
of riflemen and parks of artillery to a governing class otherwise
very shaky about its future prospects.37
In John Bull's other island, with the Civil War still raging, the situ-
ation was much more turbulent. Lenin had been excited by the Easter
Rising of 1916, writing in July of that year:
A blow of identical strength, delivered against the power of the

British imperialist bourgeoisie by a rising in Ireland, has a hundred
times greater political significance than one in Asia or Africa ....
The misfortune of the Irish is that they rose prematurely - when a
European-scale rising of the proletariat had not yet matured.
At the Second Congress of the Comintern in the summer of 1920,

Roderick Connolly, the son of James, echoed Lenin in his assertion
that:
If we consider the international situation as a bitter struggle be-

tween the centre of the world revolution, Soviet Russia, with the
small states grouped around Russia on the one hand, and the
League of Nations led by British imperialism on the other, then
Ireland, that constant hearth of revolution in the heart of the
empire, which keeps an English army of 200,000 men permanently
occupied, is of great importance for the international revol-
utionary movement.
Although Connolly was by no means alone in such a belief, and

although Soviets of various kinds were formed in Ireland in 1921,
long-term hopes for close association between the Irish and Soviet
republics were not realised. In the shorter run, there is no doubt, the
British government's anxieties about Ireland compounded those
concerning security nearer home and further away. The Times
reflected the wider concerns, which will be looked at more closely
below, in an editorial of23 January 1920:
Supposing that the Bolshevist successes were to affect our security

in Asia, or that the Russians were to attack Poland or any of the
other political arrangements made by the Paris Conferences, what
in that case would our policy be? It is an issue quite distinct from
any that has yet been decided. It is no longer a question of support-
ing military operations in Russia, but of the defence of India,
which is as much British territory as Ottawa or Melbourne or
Kent. It is no longer at issue whether Russians shall be well
governed or ill, but whether we shall govern ourselves as we wish
or others may choose to dictate. 38
As we move finally to consider the impact of October in the rest

of the Western world, we leave Europe and cross the Atlantic to
become remote from the main cockpit, but also to find much excited
talk and no small amount of action. In the USA, long the home of
great enthusiasms, there were those who were carried away by the
news of the Revolution, for example, William M. Brown, who gained
considerable notoriety by resigning as Bishop of Arkansas to become
the self-styled 'Episcopus in partibus Bolshevikium et Infidelium'.39
Debate among the politicians of the extreme left was rather more
down to earth. At a convention in Chicago in September 1919,
differences of national origin as well as some doctrinal disputes

going back into the nineteenth century produced two breakaways
from the Socialist Party - a Communist Labor Party and a Com-
munist Party of America - although under the influence of the
Comintern, a united Communist Party of North America was formed
in May 1921.40 Discussion had now moved from down to earth to the
underground, for the Communist Party had been made illegal, held
its founding congress in secret and had to make use of various front
organisations. As for the trade union movement, it was often anti-
pathetic to Bolshevism, certainly when its spokesman was Samuel
Gompers, head of the American Federation of Labor. Although the
IWW was still strong and there were many strikes in 1919, with
'Soviets' being set up in Butte, Montana, and Portland, Oregon,4! the
spread of the 'Red menace' among American workers was greatly
exaggerated, notably at the time of the General Strike in Seattle in
1919, when Mayor Ole Hanson made himself into a national hero by
his firm action and sentiments such as the following:
Bolshevists believe in destruction of nationalism, loyalty and

patriotism and the adoption of a sentimental, sickly, unworkable,
skim-milk internationalism. Loving no country, they excuse them-
selves by saying they love all countries alike. Polygamous men
have ever used the same excuse .... Bolshevism would disarm and
Chinafy our great people .... Bolshevism teaches and its votaries
practise immorality, indecency, cruelty, rape, murder, theft,
arson.42
Hanson's views were widely shared, as the 'Red scare' built up in

1919 with the encouragement of the attorney-general, A. Mitchell
Palmer, demonstrated. Any kind of agitation was suspect; the mai-
ling of a few bombs and the explosion of even fewer was interpreted
as part of a concerted attempt to subvert probity and good order.
Many innocent people lost their jobs and some their lives in the wave
of hysteria that swept throughout the USA. And to counter the all-
pervasive threat, new emphasis was put on the patriotism that had
already been stirred up by the war. The Joint Committee of New
York State Legislature investigating seditious activities under Clay-
ton R. Lusk asserted that:
... steps are being taken by the public school authorities with the
cooperation of the legislatures of almost every state in the United
States to make Americanization and citizenship training as vital
and integral a part of the public school curricula as the universal
teaching of the justly famed three r's. They seem to subscribe to the
belief that if we could give children in their early youth a real and
sympathetic appreciation of American ideals and a respect for the
institutions through which these ideals find realisation, their
patriotism will be deep-rooted and lasting and their loyalty to this
nation so strong that it will withstand the influence of subversive
propaganda.
But sometimes, the Committee warned, 'subversive activities mas-

querade under the name of Americanization', two alleged examples
being lectures on psychoanalysis and on Henrik Ibsen. The Join!
Committee also quoted with approval the approach to problems of
Americanisation of A. W. Coffin, of the War Civics Committee,
East St Louis, Illinois:
Too often the superintendent, the foreman, the employer and the
native-born workman miss a great opportunity to be the foreign-
born workman's hero or his general or corporal instead of his task-
master, through neglect to form a play fellowship with the new-
comer .... If the Italians are present, buy some baccio balls and
see what happens. If the Slavs are enrolled, make some parallel
bars, and watch who uses them most during the noon hour. If there
are English, Scotchmen or Canadians to be considered, have faci-
lities for soccer and cricket.43
Problems of the great American 'melting-pot' were indeed at the root

of much of the trouble in 1919 and the years following, particularly
since the fusion process was not yet very advanced. And some
extreme ideas had indeed been imported from Europe along with its
huddled masses. These two sets of circumstances were clearly incor-
porated in the famous case of Sacco and Vanzetti, who were finally
executed in 1927 because they were Italian radicals rather than thiev-
ing murderers, as Vanzetti said in his last statement to the court. But
among the other motives probably spurring on some of the Ameri-
canisers was the realisation that patriotism could perform a useful
service as a blanket cover for the dismantling of some of the liberal
measures of the pre-war period. Certainly, the anti-Red tumult never
died down completely as normalcy was restored in the 1920s, and
was to rise up again in almost equally strident tones after the Second
World War.44
Even across the northern border soccer and cricket were not
enough to give Canada complete domestic peace at the end of the
war. The Canada First Publicity Association purchased newspaper
space in the summer of 1919 to advertise 'The Frozen Breath of Bol-
shevism. If Bolshevism comes to Canada it will do here what it has
done in Russia and what it seeks to do in Germany. '4' Sources of the
icy halitosis were believed to be everywhere, especially in Winnipeg
and back across the ocean at a demobilisation camp in Kinmel,
North Wales. At Kinmel, the trouble appears to have stemmed from
delays in the return of soldiers to civilian life and the frightful camp
conditions as much as from radical impulses, although the leaders
certainly carried red flags in their demonstrations. 46 A correspondent
in the Calgary Daily Herald of 12 March 1919 wrote that conver-
sation with all ranks had convinced him that:
Bolshevism had no real place among the Canadian troops though

the feeling is strongly entertained that Canada should carefully re-
view her immigration policy and exclude Russian and other Euro-
pean immigrants who are incapable of appreciating the benefit of
Canadian institutions. 47
In its policy of One Big Industrial Union the Western Conference

of Labor meeting in Calgary in March 1919 was believed in particu-
lar to be advocating the introduction into Canada of Bolshevism; it
did indeed declare itself in favour of proletarian dictatorship. When
another of its policies, the general strike, was adopted in Winnipeg in
May, there were newspaper reports of 'a military junta, which
attempted to establish a strikers' government in Winnipeg modelled
along the Leninist Russian monstrosity', and of 'a red guard of aliens
headed chiefly by imported English and Scottish anarchists' .48 In fact
the most violent occurrence was a peaceful march (in defiance of the
mayor's ban) during the course of the control of which one person
was killed and about thirty were wounded. And with the leaders in
jail, the strike was called off as a royal commission was set up to in-
vestigate the whole affair; this found that the strike had consisted of
non-violent collective bargaining led by Canadian citizens rather
than by alien elements.49 Nevertheless, without it reaching anything
like American proportions, the domestic 'Red scare' continued, and
the first convention of the Canadian Communist Party in 1921 had to
be held in secret in a barn outside Guelph, Ontario. Up to that point
Canadian socialism had contained a somewhat disparate mixture of
preachers of the 'social gospel', trade unionists, Marxist and non-
Marxist intellectuals and (particularly marked in such a widely
scattered and heterogeneous people) provincialists, regionalists and
nationalists (especially French Canadian). Even now, after 1921, the
lines were not clearly drawn, and the rise of the social credit move-
ment added yet another element to the mixture. '0
The principal characteristic of the situation across the Atlantic
ocean in the outpost of the Western world, South Africa, was of
course race. The foothold carved out of the Cape by the British and
Dutch was still precarious enough in 1908 for Bill Andrews, a white
union leader, to argue that the 'coloured races, if unchecked would
rise to the top and endanger the state itself by reason of their num-
bers, vitality and low standards'. Another feature of the South Afri-
can situation was the strong legacy of the Boer War, which meant
continued, powerful antipathy to Great Britain and therefore to the
First World War. S. P. Bunting, a prominent Labour politician,
argued in 1915 that his colleagues had to choose between the Afri-
kaner vote and support for the war; there was with him little or none
of the principled internationalism of some socialists. Even in 1917
Andrews was pressing for 'parallel' trade unions for coloured and
Kaffir workers, and standing along with Bunting and others in all-
white elections. When the Communist Party of South Africa was
formed in 1921, Andrews was secretary-editor, Bunting treasurer,
and the executive all-white in its membership and pro-white in its
policies. Their outlook was well illustrated at the Rand strike in 1922
when a banner inscribed with the legend 'Workers of the World,
Fight and Unite for a White South Africa' was carried along in a
daily march with a band playing the 'Red Flag'.51
Across the Indian Ocean in Australia racism and anti-British feel-
ing were also to be found, albeit in comparatively diluted form, since
the aborigines were not as numerous as the Kaffirs and the antipo-
dean Irish not as prominent as the Afrikaners. On the other hand,
Australians were worried by the 'yellow peril', as they began to rea-
lif>e after 1905 and even more after 1914 that they were rather further
from the old country than they had usually thought during the latter
part of the nineteenth century. As a leader in the Sydney Morning
Herald put it on 18 December 1917:
There is probably no centre of population in the world quite so

open to attack from the enemy without and the enemy within ...
the forces of disaffection make it more like Petrograd than
London or Paris .... The same implied threats of violence and dis-
order were offered to Lincoln when he forced his will upon the
Northern States in the American Civil War.
These last remarks were occasioned by the fact that at the time of the
October Revolution Australia was holding a referendum on a prob-
lem that had caused Lincoln much trouble - that of conscription.
The same leader-writer, C. Brunsden Fletcher, had made no secret of
his attitude in the Herald on 14 November: 'Self-respecting men
cannot be expected to play the fool to please a populace only fit to
be compared with the lunatics of Leninism - the poor pacifists of
Petrograd.' There were few 'lunatics of Leninism' at large in Austra-

lia at this time, although the fact that at least one of them - Peter
Simonoff - was of Russian origin encouraged complaints of 'alien
elements' and an upsurge of anti-semitism (since a clear majority of
Australian Russians were Jewish). But Tom Barker, an IWW organ-
iser and an energetic member of the band of socialists who were
among the opponents of conscription, was more representative of
the Australian extreme left in his later recollection that 'I'd never
heard of Lenin or Trotsky but I had organised meetings in Sydney in
support of the February Revolution, so I was able to tell ... some-
thing about the struggles of the Russian people.'52 The IWW not only
welcomed October, but also spoke out against conscription and in
favour of the One Big Union before moving with other socialists in-
cluding seceding members of the reformist Labour Party towards the
formation of the Communist Party of Australia, which was finally
achieved in Sydney in October 1920.53 The Australian Labour Party,
(ALP) with strong union affiliations, remained little interested in
ideology or internationalism, antipathetic to communism and preoc-
cupied by economic motives. The prime minister, W. M. Hughes, a
Labour politician but now heading a Nationalist government (since
the bulk of the ALP had opposed conscription in 1917 while Hughes
and thirty other MPs had split to support it) was able to argue in Sep-
tember 1919 that the war had achieved national security, White Aus-
tralia and freedom from communism. 'Australia', he proclaimed, 'is
safe.'54
Of apparently sterner stuff as well as less racist was H. E. Holland,
a leader of the Labour Party across the Tasman Sea in New Zealand,
who in February 1920 could still say that the light of the Soviet
Russian achievements was destined 'to illumine the world and to
leave Russia flaming like a star of the first magnitude in the constella-
tion of nations' .55 Earlier on 23 January 1918, equal enthusiasm had
been shown by 'The Vag' (E. J. Howard of Christchurch), a colum-
nist in the Maori/and Worker:
It's coming, Brother! you can hear the coming of Democracy even
in God's Own Country. Russia! Australia! China! America! Why
not New Zealand? Get ready, comrades, get ready. Be ready to
take over the mines, the mills, the ships and the factories.
The Maori/and Worker was to cool down by 4 August 1920, however,

arguing that:
In British communities it is idle to hope for a Revolution after the

Russian method. Britons are hopelessly constitutional. ... While,
therefore, we favour revolutionary principles, we recognise that
methods in such a country as Maoriland must be a compromise
between reformist and revolutionary' .56
And, in like manner, in the same month as he made the above

remarks, Henry Holland also pointed out that 'the Social Revolution
will achieve itself and be achieved through evolutionary processes' .57
Poking fun at the similarly compromising approach of another
Labour leader, Walter Nash, some irreverent colleagues sang:
The people's flag is palest pink,

It's not so red as you might think.58
Recoiling from such dilution of the revolutionary message, Thomas

Feary, a young miner, and other enthusiasts, formed a New Zealand
Marxian Association in 1918 which was to become the New Zealand
Communist Party in the spring of 1921.59 As for the first post-war
government, its programme has been characterised as 'a shred of
socialism, a patch of patriotism, a humanitarian thread, and an
imperialist ribbon on the ragged conservative cloak' .60 Problems and
tensions there certainly were during its period in office - economic,
racial and religious as well as political- but the 'Fish of Maui' con-
tinued to swim through the South Pacific without encountering
unmanageably stormy waters.61
Moving up to the North Pacific, we arrive at our last port of call,
the oriental outlier of the Western world, Japan. Here the October
Revolution encouraged the government to decide on intervention,
and by November the General Staff had already drafted 'The Plan to
Dispatch Troops to Protect the Japanese Residents in the
Russian-Occupied Far East'. The Japanese ambassador to Russia,
Uchida, was greatly alarmed by such a policy, arguing that, whether
Japan liked it or not, the Bolshevik regime was likely to last for a long
time, and Japan would have to deal with it. He argued in favour of
recognition rather than intervention, but was forced to resign in July
1918. More radical criticism of the government came from Ishibashi
Tanzan, the liberal editor of Toyo keizai Shimpo (,The New Asian
Economic Gazette'). After the October Revolution, Ishibashi re-
jected the notion that Lenin and the Bolshevik regime were puppets
of the Germans, and argued that Lenin's policies succeeded only be-
cause they tried to meet the aspirations of the masses. In his view, the
Soviets expressed the will of a previously suppressed people, and a
new era which was opening would mean the death of imperialism.
What was dangerous to Japan was not a German thrust into Siberia,
nor the threat of Bolshevism, but rather the fact that, too preoccu-
pied with the pursuit of narrow national interests, Japan was blind to
the economic and political bankruptcy of imperialism. Like Uchida,
he argued in favour of recognition and against intervention, and con-
tinued to do so even though incurring government censorship.
As for the Japanese socialists, they had been virtually silenced
since an alleged attempt at regicide in 1912, but a small group of them
still managed to put out 20 issues of a journal called Shin shakai
('New Society') during the period January 1917 to August 1918. To
begin with, they were very ignorant of the great events of 1917, one of
them Arahata Kanson explaining that:
We knew nothing about the nature of the Russian Revolution, nor

about the organisation of the Soviets, nor the political parties
which formed the new government. We knew the differences be-
tween the SRs and the SOs, but the differences between the Bol-
sheviks and the Mensheviks only after the revolution. Nobody
knew or had heard of Kerensky, Lenin or Trotsky.
Such ignorance stemmed basically from the circumstance that

Japanese socialists had mostly been interested in gaining enlight-
enment from the works of Marx and Engels, and had paid little atten-
tion previously to developments in Russia. 62 But February and
especially October made all the difference. In the estimate of Chito-
shi Yanaga:
The Russian Revolution came in 1917, at a time when the advo-

cates of democracy were gathering strength and voices denouncing
militarism were beginning to reverberate throughout the nation.
The success of the Bolsheviks made a profound impression upon
the mind of Japanese youth and had the effect of stimulating leftist
thought and movement. 63
Shin shakai made a considerable contribution to the discussion

which aroused Japanese socialists but also split them in three direc-
tions, each represented by an outstanding individual. Takabatake
Motoyuki became convinced that Bolshevism could be revol-
utionary only in Russia, and turned to a right-wing state socialism.
Osugi Sakae was dismayed by the Bolshevik split with the SRs and
the suppression of the Kronstadt Revolt, and was an enthusiastic
advocate of anarchism until his assassination by the Secret Police in
1923. Yamakawa Hitoshi remained deeply committed to the
October Revolution, and made a revaluation of Japanese socialist
thought using it as a basis.
Along with all this debate, serious labour troubles developed for
the first time in Japanese history. The year 1919 was one of great
strikes in factories, mines and transportation, with thousands of
workers jailed for their part in these disturbances. Reacting to this
activity as well as to the inspiration of events in Russia, workers and
intellectuals marched in the first Japanese May Day parade in 1920
and came together to form a Socialist Union in the same year. But the
inaugural meeting was disrupted by the police, and the Union was
dissolved in May 1921 at the order of the government. The Com-
munist Party of Japan, formed about a year later by Japanese dele-
gates to the Third Congress of the Comintern, had an equally
difficult time from the start; its leaders, including Yamakawa Hito-
shi and Arahata Kanson, were arrested in May 1923, and the Party
virtually collapsed and then disappeared for some years. 64
Concern for the general security of the Pacific as well as for that of
its several parts was widely expressed in a number of different ways in
1917 and after. For example, headlines in The Pacific Commercial
Advertiser published in Honolulu on 9 November 1917 ran:
'Kerensky's Fall Menace to Hawaii, say Congressmen. May Open
Way for Germany to Establish Bases in Siberian Port for Raiders.'
And what the Germans might begin a successful Bolshevik regime
could follow. This was especially alarming to Hawaians because of
their unhappy experience with Russian religious refugees just before
1914, of whom the Advertiser said, also on 9 November:
They demanded life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness without

work. The world, they thought, owed them a living, but they failed
to understand that they owed the world anything in return. So it
seems to be with virtually the entire Russian nation.
Thoughts for the guarantee of Pacific security against the Red Star as
well as the Rising Sun were in the minds of many delegates to the
Washington Conference which met towards the end of 1921, as the
exclusion of Soviet Russia (in spite of her vigorous protests) indi-
cated.6s
And before the Versailles Conference some two and a half years
previously, General Smuts was no doubt thinking of more than the
security of Europe in his recommendation of the restoration of Ger-
many as a bulwark against Bolshevism and his fear 'that the Paris
Conference may prove one of the historic failures of the world; that
the statesmen connected with it will return to their countries broken,
discredited men, and that the Bolsheviks will reap where they have
sown'.66 In these years immediately following the Russian Revol-
ution, a vast number of writers discussed the global implications of
February and especially of October. Some were highly alarmed, such

as G. Pitt-Rivers, who in a book entitled The World Significance of
the Russian Revolution and published in 1920 expressed the wish that
Russia 'would free herself from the crazy paranoiacs and parasites
who are sucking her life's blood'." Others were wildly enthusiastic,
such as Frank Anstey, an Australian M.P., who concluded a work
written in 1919 with the declaration:
All Power' in its scope, the right of each locality to work out its
own salvation, land, homes and industries, local action, direct
action, action quick and on the spot; emulation, stimulation,
rivalry in effort for the common good; the foremost a beacon to
the backward .... The impatient world will wait no longer. ...
Capitalism listens with quaking soul to the drum beats of the
Armies of Revolution. Those beats grow louder and louder - they
draw nearer and nearer. 68
To assess the extent to which the fears of the opponents of Bolshe-

vism and the hopes of its supporters were justified, we must now turn
from the Western world to find out how the drums were beating in
the Third.
6 The Third World
There was no substantial part of the inhabited world completely

unaffected by the immediate impact of the Russian Revolution. Even
the most sparsely peopled region - the Arctic - was soon under the
influence of the great event, largely because of its proximity to and
partial inclusion in the Russian Republic, at least to some extent be-
cause of the belief of such an expert as Vilhjalmur Stefansson in, as he
called it, The Northward Course ofEmpire. which was to lead him on
to The Adventure of Wrangellsland. 1 While the uninhabited Antarc-
tic remained outside the most immediate contention, it too was later
to become a disputed region, the Soviet government basing its claims
on the activities of prerevolutionary explorers. 2
In this chapter, the focus of our attention will be on those parts of
the world more firmly incorporated in the great global empires,
whose subjects were rarely proletarian and not often bourgeois, but
were nevertheless seen by Lenin and his associates as potential par-
ticipants in the world revolution, even though the manner of their
doing so was the subject of keen debate at the Second Congress of the
Comintern. Should 'bourgeois nationalism' be encouraged, and to
what extent and in conjunction with which other social forces? Such
questions involved Lenin in considerable controversy.3 Here, we
take as a point of departure the observation of the geographer
A. Supan quoted by Lenin in Imperialism: The Highest Stage of
Capitalism and concerning development at the end of the nineteenth
century: 'The characteristic feature of the period is ... the division of
Africa and Polynesia.' Supan pointed out that between 1876 and
1900 the percentage of territory belonging to the colonial powers
rose by nearly eighty per cent in Africa and by over forty per cent in
Polynesia. 4 We shall begin our survey by giving our attention to a
remote part of Polynesia in order to demonstrate that even in most
unlikely places only recently brought into the imperialist network the
impact of October was palpably felt soon after the event itself.
The islands of the South Pacific presented an image on the face of
it which was pre-capitalist and even pre-feudal, with hints of primi-

tive communism. This was explicitly discovered by a New Zealand
Parliamentary Commission visiting Western Samoa soon after the
First World War and commenting:
Unfortunately, the Samoans are communistic in their ideas of life,

and this fact has an important bearing on labour matters. It is
expected that the man who has should support the man who has
not, and as a consequence the man who does work is preyed upon
by the man who does not. It has been asserted that the Samoan is
physically unfit to put forth sustained effort for any lengthened
period, but this theory is difficult to believe. It seems more prob-
able that the principle of communism rather than any physical
unfitness is responsible for his unwillingness to work.
But as part of its investigations, the Commission discovered that,

in some parts of the South Pacific at least, something like the feudal
stage had been passed. Makea, an A riki or chief in Rarotonga in the
Cook Islands, pointed out that formerly he and his fellows had held
absolute power over the land, and 'the tenants had to render certain
services in return, including military service.... Tenants failing to
render their obligations were dispossessed.' Later, however, a land
court had shared out a portion to each individual, 'exactly the same
as in New Zealand'. So, in quite a short space of time, some inhabit-
ants of the South Seas had been pushed through a complete historical
phase.'
Were any of them anxious to move further, to socialism? Cer-
tainly, they would have found it difficult to follow the lead of the
Russian revolutionaries, even to know what such a lead was. South
Pacific newspapers, often weekly rather than daily and without
much information from the world outside, were often misinformed.
For example, the Samoa Times reported on 17 November 1917 that
'Kerensky is reported to have defeated the Bolsheviki, the majority
of the troops having joined the premier', while the Fiji Times an-
nounced on 28 November that 'Bolsheviki is the latest to secure the
alleged control of the army and navy, Kerensky, Lenin and others
having been relegated to somewhere behind the scenes.' Some of this
news was probably distorted as relayed through Hawaii, the above
misunderstandings may partly have been suggested by the Pacific
Commercial Advertiser of 12 November which stated that the fall of
the Russian radicals was believed to be only hours away, and of 14
November, which contained the headline 'Bolshe-Viki Bands are
Reported To Have Committed Terrible Excesses and Made Con-
ditions in Russian Capital Intolerable.' News travelling in the other
THE THIRD WORLD 135
direction, from the South Seas outwards, may have been distorted,
too, but if not, an item in the New York radical newspaper The Libe-
rator, in September 1919, answered the question posed at the begin-
ning of this paragraph in the affirmative. This was a dispatch from
Papeete, Tahiti, which ran as follows:
A sort of communist republic has been set up in the island of

Mauke by soldiers who returned recently from the battlefields of
France. Mauke is one of the Cook group of islands west of Tahiti.
Reports from Mauke say the soldiers have taken entire charge of
the island, displaced the government resident, assumed direction
of the trading stores, set prices on the goods for sale, and estab-
lished government by committee.
Here, obviously, is a case that merits closer investigation, for it

could encourage excited exclamations indeed. C. E. RusselI in
Indianapolis had probably read his Liberator when he wrote about
Lenin and Bolshevism:
From what might be called a student's cell in the city of Cracow,

Austria, to the utmost Orient and the islands of the South Seas,
taking in much territory between, and all in these few months -
wonderful is the flight, all must admit it to be so! The creed of one
man become already the creed of millions and still going on to
other millions and to others.6
To what sort of place had the message apparently come? Dis-

covered by the explorer whose name they bear in 1777, the Cook
Islands were not proclaimed a British protectorate until 1888. In
1890 a general legislature was set up along with an executive council
of which the Arikis were members. The whole archipelago was
annexed by the Governor of New Zealand in 1901.7 Although their
total number was not many more than 6000, the Cook Islanders were
keenly prepared to do their bit when the news of the outbreak of the
First World War came to them. On Niue, a western outlier of the
group, 164 was collected and sent to Wellington along with the offer
of 200 young men and the following message: 'To King George V, all
those in authority, and the brave men who fight. I am the small island
of Niue, a small child that stands up to help the King to stand fast. '8
The Rarotongan Company (named after the most important island
of the group) of the Australia and New Zealand Mid-Division duly
found its way to Egypt, where it was involved in the handling of
ammunition and other such duties. Its Captain - G. A. Bush - noted
that its discipline was generally good from April 1917 to December
19189 ; but it may well have been in contact with other troops whose
behaviour was less exemplary in Egypt during roughly the same
period and who had taken the bold step of forming their own coun-
cils. 1o Meanwhile, back home, a Cook Islands Act was passed in
April 1916 to clear up some serious anomalies in their constitutional
position, a leading role in the work being taken by Dr Maui Pomare,
a Maori member of the New Zealand Cabinet closely involved in the
affairs of his own people and those of their island cousinsY On the
face of it, the way was prepared for a peaceful demobilisation of the
returning troops, but Captain Bush's charges were not to maintain
their record for keeping good order.
When we turn to look at the official records of the incident noticed
in the Liberator, we can have little doubt that it seemed very serious
to the government's man on the spot. The Telegraph Office in Christ-
church, New Zealand, regretted to inform the governor-general,
Lord Liverpool, on II March 1919 that it had intercepted the follow-
ing radio message:
To Governor Papeete. Serious disturbances here by returned sold-

iers who are taking charge of settlement. Require .armed assist-
ance. Can you send warship or other assistance. Fifty armed men
at least required. Signed - Platts, Resident Commissioner, Raro-
tonga.
The next day, 12 March, the acting prime minister of New Zealand,
the Hon. Sir James Allen, was able to give the governor-general a
fuller account:
A communication was received late last night from the Resident

Commissioner Rarotonga as follows. Begins. Soldiers out of hand
raided three stores. Looted contents. Two serious assaults. Cap-
tain Bush advised immediate appeal for help. Sent message
Governer Tahiti for warship. Sent another independently passing
troopship. Today High Court convicted two ringleaders. Heavily
sentenced. Expect attempt to break gaol tonight and other stores.
'Flora' arrives Wednesday. Please arrange without fail Union
Company remove Atui and Mauke men who are chief offenders by
'Flora' on Wednesday. Captain Bush says assistance man of war
imperative. Organising Europeans, natives special constables.
Ends.
To this communication Sir James Allen added the note that arrange-
ments had been made with the Union Company for the Flora to re-
move the Atui and Mauke men to their respective islands, and on the
THE THIRD WORLD 137
first despatch another administrator added the comment that the job
was too much for Platts, the commissioner. Whether or not Captain
Bush was also finding his responsibilities inordinately heavy was not
discussed, but both men were obviously seriously alarmed. Still on 12
March Allen informed the governor-general that he had received
from the commissioner in Rarotonga the news that thirty-five white
special constables and fifty reliable native troops had prevented the
threatened disturbance the previous night. Platts considered that the
crisis was over and the position was improving. He also reported that
complaints of overoharging by the traders had been one of the causes
of the disturbance, and that shopkeepers had made claims of 1500
to cover the losses that they had incurred from looting.
Twelve days later the governor-general received confirmation of
the return of calm to the Cook Islands from Sir James Allen. A tele-
gram dated 22 March from the commissioner at Rarotonga had said
that three offenders had been convicted and that the police, military
officers and A rikis. all agreed that there was no cause for further anx-
iety as to a fresh outbreak. On 24 March the acting prime minister
also sent the governor-general news of other telegrams which it did
not appear advisable he should send over the wires, namely:
Public meeting requests public enquiry into system administration

operating Cook Islands giving special consideration events pre-
ceding disturbances. Enquiry should include Island industries and
commercial conditions. Unsatisfactory economic position held
largely responsible present unrest. Future causes grave position
unless conditions improved. Signed - Russell Chairman.
And a second telegram explained the first:
Russell's message to Premier is entirely a Progressive Associ-

ation move. That body is trying to make political capital of
soldiers disorder, hence application for enquiry into scheme of
administration operating in these Islands. Have nothing to fear
from any enquiry. Enquiry into causes of outbreak might be
useful. Suggest one you await report etc. per 'Moana' before
reply to Russell two you come down yourself and decide what
enquiry if any desirable. No risk further outbreak. First one is
being effectively dealt with. Signed - M. Pomare.
Sir James Allen told Lord Liverpool that he had telegraphed Dr

Pomare to ask when he would return to Wellington as the matter
would have to be considered by the cabinetP The atmosphere of
the incident is well suggested for us by the name affixed to a
communication dated 9 May 1919 from their man in Rarotonga

to the London Missionary Society: 'The returned soldiers caused a
little disturbance but everything is quiet now. Bond James.'13
A month or so after Bond James had sent in his report, the
governor-general himself was making a tour of the South Pacific
Islands. At Mangaia, in the Cook group, he noted:
When addressing the people, I took the opportunity of impressing

the men who had lately been demobilised of the advisability of
laying to heart all the good lessons which they had learned while
under military discipline, and I told them that we looked to them
to assist materially in fostering the interests of their Island. Some
of the men had been in Egypt where, unfortunately, they had wit-
nessed certain acts of insubordination perpetrated on the traders,
and there was just a possibility that they might be inclined to do
something of the same kind on the few White traders if their terms
did not meet with approbation.
About Mauke, the governor-general was less communicative, un-

fortunately:
Here it also appeared to me and to Doctor Pomare that we should

say a few words to the returned soldiers as regards their behaviour,
as Mr. Cameron [the resident agent] told us there had been an
inclination on their part to get out ofhand. 14
The whole matter was finally, if not completely, cleared up in the

following year with the Report of the Commission to Inquire into the
Conditions of Trade between New Zealand and Fiji. Tonga. Western
Samoa. and Cook Islands published as an Appendix to the Journals of
the House of Representatives of New Zealand. 1920. 1' It was probably
to a considerable extent in order to influence the findings of the Com-
mission that the merchants, planters and traders of the Cook Islands
also published in 1920 the following pamphlet: Cook Islands Ad-
ministration: An Arbitrary Autocracy: Denial of Justice: A Serious
Crisis: An Impartial Inquiry into the Causes of Declining Trade and
Growing Discontent: Also An Appeal to the Parliament and People of
New Zealand. The anonymous author began by revealing a clear
political attitude as well as something of a literary flair, and his first
paragraph merits quotation at length:
It is generally conceded that good administration is of far greater

importance than the particular form of Government that may be
in vogue in any country - that a 'benevolent despotism' is much to
THE THIRD WORLD 139
be preferred to a hideously cruel and tyrannical regime of State
Socialism such as the Bolshevists have established in Russia. This
must not be taken as an unqualified endorsement of Alexander
Pope's dictum:
For forms of government let fools contest;
Whate'er is best administered is best.
The form of Government under which people live is a matter of
very great moment. It is especially desirable fhat Governments
should be of representative character, so that, In the event of any
failure to deal out even-handed justice to all, there should be a
ready means of obtaining redress or of securing a change of ad-
ministration. The axiom, 'No taxation without representation',
should have as its corollary 'No representation without taxation'.
Grievances caused by maladministration may arise under the most
democratic system, but the people in such case have the power to
demand justice. When, however, the people have no such power-
when an autocratic Administrator, by whatever name he may be
called-
... dressed in a little brief authority,
Plays such fantastic trick's before high Heaven
As makes the angels weep-
and those who suffer from his caprice, corruption, incompetence
or malevolence have no effective means of protest - when, in short,
justice is denied and appeal is futile, an intolerable situation is
created. It will thus be seen that, when maladministration is allied
with a bad form of Government, conditions are created that are
tyrannical and oppressive, and against which the people are jus-
tified in employing the forces of Revolution.
Here was an explicit appeal for a Cook Islands 1776 or 1789 or

even February 1917, although on behalf of the merchants, planters
and traders rather than the native people. As the remainder of the
pamphlet confirms, in the view of its sponsors the resident com-
missioner was indeed carrying on a 'benevolent despotism' on
behalf of the Islanders themselves. Island Councils set up in 1915
gave the appearance of constitutional government, but they were a
sham since the native representatives accepted his every suggestion.
And when the returning soldiers rioted in 1919 the resident com-
missioner attempted to throw the blame on 'profiteering' tactics by
the traders. Furthermore:
It is alleged, on the testimony of many eye-witnesses, that a

drunken soldier entered the Commissioner's office, armed with a

bar of iron, and threatened mischief if two of his friends who had
been arrested were not at once released from gaol. This is denied
by the Commissioner; but confirmation of the story is afforded by
the report that the agent of the London Missionary Society took
the offending native in hand and made him apologise to the Com-
missioner, the upshot being that no prosecution followed.
This was not only another exploit for Bond James but also, as far as
the pamphleteer was concerned, a revelation to the natives of the
weakness of the resident commissioner. They had been led by him to
believe that 'the Administration is standing between them and a
band of selfish exploiters'. This was far from the case, but ifnot prop-
erly led, the Cook Islanders might become like Samoans and relapse
into 'habits of indolence and lack of ambition'.
The Parliamentary Commission, for its part, formed a somewhat
different impression of the enterprise of the Cook Islanders, receiv-
ing many complaints that the traders were exploiting the natives and
making vast profits out of the sale of fruit to New Zealand. For this
reason a serious attempt was being made among the natives to form a
co-operative association in the fruit trade, and the Commission
believed that encouragement should be given to such an aspiration.
Their Report also stated:
We are informed, however, that notices were posted in public

places asking the Natives to deal only with the Native Committee,
and were signed 'By order'. The traders contended that many
Natives were under the impression that 'By Order' meant by order
of the Administration, and as a consequence were afraid to sell or
consign their fruit through the traders. As a matter of fact the Ad-
ministration had nothing whatever to do with the publication of
such notices: they were issued by the Native Committee. This may
be a comparatively small matter to mention; nevertheless we think
that the person or persons who issue such notices should be com-
pelled to sign them.
A small matter indeed, and yet a further illustration of the Parlia-

mentary Commission's attitude, in favour of moderate encour-
agement of the Cook Islanders and a certain amount of restraint on
the traders, including persistence with at least some form of the
'benevolent despotism' of the resident commissioner. This kind of at-
titude led to some further mild reform, attempting to placate both
Europeans and natives. The Cook Islands Amendment Act of
November 1921 gave the Europeans their representation on the
THE THIRD WORLD 141
Island Council, but removed their exclusive privilege of obtaining al-
coholic liquor by introducing absolute prohibition. In June 1922, Dr
Pomare was created a Knight Commander of the British Empire,
which no doubt pleased his supporters in the Islands, even if they
were not legally able to celebrate this honour by drinking Sir Maui's
health. 16
Unfortunately the Cook Islanders did not live happily ever after.
Jackson Webb writes in The Times of 2 December 1977 of 'The so-
called civilisation that is strangling the Cook Islands'. He complains
that fruit companies and tourism have done much social and ecologi-
cal damage, and goes on to lament that:
Since the early 1880s, there has been no looking back for Poly-
nesia. It is an old tragedy. The past has been annihilated by greed,
imported diseases and religious bullying. Today, there are simply
no precedents. Economically pinioned from the outside, with its
cultural backbone broken and rich artistic and ritualistic sources
of life cut off by the missionaries, what can the Cook Islands
people do but turn completely, desperately to the bleak present,
while their integrity and communal spirit dwindle to extinction.
Jackson Webb also makes the shrewd point that 'Ironically, it is the
small outlying places of the world, like the Cooks, which seem to
register most violently the aberrant currents of the time.' That
which applied to 1977 arguably applied to 1919, too. Like their
comrades in other parts of the world, the Cook Islands soldiers came
home wanting homes fit for heroes, and were prepared to take action
when they did not find them. While their ideas cannot be precisely
determined, their general direction seems clear enough. Moreover,
their enemies' enemies would have been looked upon by them as
their friends, and these, they would have discovered from the Pro-
gressive Association's pamphlet if they did not know it before, in-
cluded the 'Bolshevists'.
Radical ideas certainly passed through the head of the leader of a
strike in 1920 to the west of Polynesia in Fiji, although that began in
January for 'increase of wages in view of the high cost of living'.
Alarm spread quickly enough for New Zealand to send 50 men and
200 rifles and Australia a gunboat with 50 ratings at the beginning
of February. On the tenth of that month, 'Loyal Indians British
subjects' asked the Governor for protection 'from interference by
political agitators' and he - C. H. Rodwell- wired the Secretary of
State for the Colonies that 'Indian unrest is assuming appearance of
racial outbreak.' Five days later, the Governor could be reassuring,
now that the nominated member of the Legislative Council the
Honourable Badri Mahraj had arrived 'and rendered excellent ser-

vice by addressing meetings and warning Indians against mis-
chievous and seditious propaganda which has nothing to do with
stated grievances namely cost ofliving and rate of wages', and then,
after another three days, 'All have returned to work' and 'Complete
order prevails. '17
Reporting to Milner at greater length on 12 March 1920, Rodwell
wrote that on 5 February he had been shown a draft of an address
just given at a meeting of the strikers, which consisted mostly of a
'long resume of political complaints and aspirations'. He added:
It was in fact a clear proof that the economic grievances, on which

the leaders had induced the labourers to strike, had been relegated
to the background, and that the movement had been converted
into a political agitation. Is
The chief culprit was singled out as Dr Manilal, who had arrived in
Fiji in 1911 from Mauritius, to which he had gone in 1907 at the
request of Mahatma Gandhi. I9 Manilal and his associates themselves
indicated that Rodwell had not been scaremongering, sending to
Milner on 13 March a petition in which they argued that 'repressive
legislation ... has been so practised as to terrorise and emasculate
[sic] all Indians' and that 'the world is moving towards democracy
and the vested interests in Fiji cannot stem the world tide reaching
Indian labourers.' On 2 April Manilal wrote to the Colonial Sec-
retary 'God save the Fiji government from the retribution due to
their underlings or their exploiters the capitalists', and then on 10
April wrote to him again, putting his ideas and complaints in a more
explicit context:
1. ... I happened to read Red Europe by Frank Anstey MP Mel-

bourne during this my exile and I am profoundly affected and
arrive at the conclusion that the true place of every Indian must be
in India and that there is no hope of gaining anything from Euro-
pean civilisation. In India, we must fight tooth and nail this Euro-
pean civilisation by the revival of our old spiritual life; otherwise
Indians will be swallowed up like the rest of the world in the abys-
mal chaos of Capitalism or Imperialism, and God only knows,
where that may lead.
2. I am charged with having said things, which Frank Anstey in
his book charges against all governments concerned with the war
- I am exiled, while he is re-voted into the Commonwealth Parlia-
ment.
3. Frank Anstey does not spare the highest and best in British
THE THIRD WORLD 143
politics and I am condemned for raising my voice against certain
occurrences in a small place like Fiji.20
So, according to his own testimony, if still more Gandhian than Bol-
shevik, Manilal was certainly aware of the Russian Revolution and
influenced by it. Whether or not it was he to whom the New Zea-
lander Thomas Feary made the suggestion in late 1919 of a Pacific as-
sociation of Marxist organisations cannot be ascertained, but Feary
undoubtedly communicated with an individual in Fiji as well as with
groups in Canada, the USA and Australia. 21 Manilal was now to
have the chance of talking to Feary (although whether or not he did
so is unknown), for it was to New Zealand that he was deported on 15
April after a petition in favour of his release with 1500 signatures was
rejected. 22 The persistence of revolutionary ideas in Fiji after his de-
parture appears unlikely, and they were not likely to have been pres-
ent in a strike in Rabaul, New Britain, still further to the west in
Melanesia in 1929, even though the Administrator General
E. A. Wisdom thought that the instigator might have been 'a re-
ligious fanatic or Bolshevik influence' .23
When we move from the South Pacific to the other area recently
incorporated into the imperialist network, namely Africa, we find
that pre-revolutionary Russia was among those involved in the great
rivalry. Tsarist interest in the dark continent went back at least as far
as Peter the Great, although it really gathered momentum towards
the end of the ni,neteenth century along with the race for empire
involving nearly all European nations. Yet Russia did not seek so
much to establish colonies in the fastnesses of Africa as to prevent
rivals, especially Great Britain, from establishing a stranglehold
there. Initially aimed before this period at hindering the Turks or
helping to establish trade routes by sea to the Orient, tsarist policy
from the 1880s to about 1905 was concerned, in the words of a con-
temporary, 'to establish an Ethiopian Empire as a fortress and bul-
wark against Egypt, and to prevent the English colonies of Africa
from becoming united .. .'. Influence in Ethiopia would be a re-
straint on Great Britain's monopoly control of the Suez Canal route
and a hindrance to the implementation of her Cape to Cairo scheme.
Thus Russia gave support to the Boers, as Nicholas II himself ex-
plained to his sister in 1899:
It is pleasant for me to know that the ultimate means of deciding

the course of the war in South Africa lies entirely in my hands. It is
very simple - just a telegraphic order to all the troops in Turkes-
tan to mobilise and to advance towards the frontier [of India].
Not even the strongest fleet in the world can keep us from striking
England in that, her most vulnerable point.
Some of his advisers wanted to go even further, the former Boer gen-
eral, Pinaar-Joubert, believing that the tsar and his government
could establish a hold over the whole of Black Africa. 'Russia must
be willing to declare itself suzerain of South and Central Africa', he
maintained in 1905, putting forth the alluring prospect of 'a precious
stone to add to the crown of Russia'. Economic and political realism
prevailed, for Russia was hardly in a position in 1905 to embark
upon an adventure far away from home with an adversary even
stronger than the Japanese. But the British government for its part
certainly took the Russian interest in Africa seriously enough for it to
weigh heavily in calculations concerning world-wide imperial strat-
egy. For example, as Winston Churchill pointed out later, a policy of
conciliation towards Russia in China was followed in 1898 in order
'to influence the impending conflict on the Upper Nile and to make it
certain, or at least likely, that when Great Britain and France should
be placed in direct opposition, France should find herself alone'.
With the world crisis looming up towards 1914, Anglo-French and
Anglo-Russian rivalries were pushed into the background and pri-
orities given to African problems were placed much lower than
before. But the First W orId War and the Revolutions of 1917 were by
no means to end the Russian concern with tropical Africa. In the
view of the author of a scholarly Western work on the subject:
... in determining its political objectives in Africa and in choosing

the means of achieving these objectives, the Soviet government
was to repeat to a remarkable extent the experience of its prede-
cessor. The opportunism of Czarist approach, the intensity of
opposition to British colonial power, the recognition ofthe disrup-
tive potential of indigenous nationalist movements, and the ex-
ploitation of Negro discontent were all to find their echo in
postrevolutionary Russian policy .24
Of course, there were also important discontinuities, too, especially

from the ideological point of view; the aims and beliefs of Soviet
communism and of Western democracy were not completely in the
same category as those of pre-First World War empires even if, as in
all historical mutations, there are some untidy overlaps and indis-
tinct borderlines. Moreover, in the years immediately following
1917, the weak Soviet Republic was hardly capable of em bark ing on
a clear, energetic policy towards Black Africa; even if there was no
shortage of arguments pressing in that direction, there was no social
movement on the spot calling for prompt action.
THE THIRD WORLD 145
Some sources suggest that there was no consciousness at all of the
Russian Revolution in certain parts of West Africa. Dispatches from
the Gold Coast in 1919, for example, talk ofracial tension, criminal
activity and even of civil disturbances. In February, our. man
out there reported unrest among local civil servants, who along
with other complaints including the shortage of false teeth and
hammocks, had objected to one of their British seniors as a 'N egro-
phobist'. Our man, Hugh Clifford, wrote that 'the Native Public Ser-
vice ... must be cleansed, I consider of the scum which is present at
the top'. In May, he recommended that 'Owing to an increasing
number of outrages by armed criminals strengthening of European
staff is an urgent matter', and later in the year referred to civil dis-
turbances, but without giving any details. 23 In none of these dis-
patches is there any suggestion of 'Communist' influence. Indeed
although saluted by Soviet commentators as progressive, the polit-
ical writing and activity in the Gold Coast at this time appears to
have been nationalist rather than Marxist-Leninist. Finding a voice
in what an early Soviet writer called a 'radical, indigenous press',
West Africans wrote in the first number of the Gold Coast Indepen-
dent in June 1918: 'There is a distinct public opinion taking shape in
West African affairs today; it may be crude, rough-hewn, but it is
growing and developing vigorously.' They asserted: 'The war has
proved our loyalty, our equal sacrifices in lives and money.' Already
in the second number, the Gold Coast Independent journalists wanted
to know 'whether we shall develop as a free people under the Union
Jack or be made hewers of wood and drawers of water'. What they
themselves called a 'growing tide of public indignation' had led by
March 1920 to the formation in Accra of the National Congress of
British West Africa (NCBW A). The first modern organisation in
African politics, the NCBW A was moderate and constitutional in its
approach, sending a delegation to King George V in 1921 to ask why
Africa had been excluded from the extension to his subject peoples of
the right of self-determination, and another to the Council of the
League of Nations with self-determination again in view. Here the
spirit was predominantly that of Woodrow Wilson's Fourteen
Points, from which one delegate extensively quoted, going on to say
that the principle of self-determination had 'brooded over almost the
whole of our continent' and was also 'the energising force which has
brought into being the NCBW A'. But at least one commentator, dis-
cussing the part played by British Negro Africans in the war, sus-
pected something more than the spirit of Wilsonian liberalism
among them, talking of 'dangerous revolutionary tendencies' .26
None of these, if they existed, can be readily identified either in the
Gold Coast, which we have chosen here for our specific example, or
in Nigeria and the rest of British West Africa. The picture changes
somewhat when we turn to consider British West Africa's French
neighbour. There, although the prevailing spirit was less that of 1917
than of 1789 - a tradition arguably originating in the late eighteenth
century when the cry of 'Vive Robespierre' went up in these colonies
as well as in the metropolis _27 we can also discover at least some posi-
tive evidence and more suggestion that the Communist message did
quickly penetrate to Francophone West Africa. The carriers were the
soldiers and other colonials, for the most part brought over to
Europe to help with the winning of the war but to a minor extent
making their way for other reasons as had Ho Chi Minh and Chou
En-lai, two other more famous revolutionaries. Over tens of thou-
sands of soldiers were recruited from French West Africa, and bat-
talions of them made a contribution to the ultimate victory at
Verdun and elsewhere. At the front and especially behind the lines
they were exposed to political influences. Even such innocent oc-
casions as the 14 july celebrations could not help but make an im-
pact, but according to some observers, there were more sinister
influences at work. The military censor in the Bordeaux region, for
example, complained in 1916 of 'anarchist thoughts' among the Sen-
egalese troops stationed locally, and Blaise Diagne, a collab-
orationist Negro parliamentary deputy, called one of the colonial
officers in the French forces of occupation in Germany 'a Bolshevik
Mahdi'. More significantly several hundred Senegalese and Alge-
rians were sent along as part of the French interventionist force to
Odessa and Sevastopol at the end of 1918. The story goes that several
Blacks were converted to Bolshevism and went over to the Red side,
one of them reputedly meeting a hero's death in a cavalry charge
against the Whites. Boris Kornilov in his poem 'My Africa' describes
this unknown warrior making his sacrifice 'in order to deal a blow to
the African capitalists and bourgeoisie'. Others less adventurous
took back home with them something of the message of October, in-
cluding revolutionary songs. However, there was no immediate
upsurge of activity in any way emulating October in French West
Africa, nor indeed many 'African capitalists or bourgeoisie' to strike
out against. Many of the swelling ranks of colonial evolue intelli-
gentsia, if attracted to thoughts of opposition at all, warmed more to
non-Communist movements such as Garveyism and Pan-
Africanism, Black nationalist or internationalist in their com-
position. A much smaller number were attracted by the explicitly
Marxist Union Intercoloniale, set up in Paris in 1921 by the future
Ho Chi Minh, with the assistance of members of the French Com-
munist Party and on behalf of all those from French colonies
throughout the world. 28
THE THIRD WORLD 147
As in the case of tropical Africans, many Vietnamese made their
acquaintance with socialism in the factories and trenches of the First
World War, about 100,000 of them being sent to France at this time.
Not only Ho Chi Minh but other leaders also served a revolutionary
apprenticeship there, Ton Duc Thang becoming involved in a
French naval revolt against intervention at Odessa and Nguyen Ai
Quoc working towards the arguments to be contained in Le Proces
de fa cofonisationfranc;aise, including a powerful tribute to the lead
and support of the Russian revolutionary regime. It was not until
about ten years after October, however, that the desire for emulation
began to take firm root in Indochina itself.29
In most of the rest of South-east Asia the movement would de-
velop later, too. The major exception was the Dutch Indies, where
the older faith of Islam joined the newer - Marxism - in a powerful
combination by 1920. Nationalism was present along with Islam in
the formation of the first political party, the Sarekat Islam formed in
Japan in 1912. Two years later a group of Dutchmen, notably Sneev-
liet and Baars, attempted to set up for local radical workers the
Social-Democratic Association of the Indies (lSDV) with its own
journal, H et Vrye W oord ('The True Word'). This party was success-
ful enough to alarm the colonial authorities, particularly after the
Russian Revolution, and they sent Sneevliet into exile in 1918. Under
the alias of Maring, he was the representative at the Second Congress
ofthe Comintern of the Communist Party of the Indies (PKI), which
Baars had helped to form from the ISDV in the spring of 1920. At
first, the PKI operated within the ranks of the Sarekat Islam, but was
able to gain a large measure of independence through securing the
following of tens of thousands of workers, especially in the trade
union movement. But the denunciation of Pan-Islamism at the
Second Congress of the Comintern did it no good, and contributed
to the failure of an attempted coup in 1926 and the subsequent de-
struction of the PKI. In any case somewhat foolhardy, the local
Communists had not yet fully learned the lesson that they would
have to take more notice of the traditional beliefs of their country-
men in their attempts to inculcate revolutionary ideology. The point
was argued forcefully at the Fourth Congress of the Com intern in
1922:
At present, Pan-Islam ism is a national-liberation struggle, because

Islam for the Moslems is everything: not only religion, but also the
State, the economic system, the food, in fact everything. Thus,
Pan-Islamism now means the fraternity of all Mohammedan
peoples and the liberation not only of the Arabian, but also the
Indian, Javanese and all other oppressed Mohammedan peoples.
This fraternity is called the liberation struggle against the British,

French and Italian capitalists, consequently against world capital-
ism .... This is our new task, and just as we are willing to support
the national war, we shall also support the liberation struggle of
the very active and energetic 250 million Mohammedans, who are
subject to the Imperialist powers. Therefore, I ask once more if we
should support Pan-Islamism in this sense, and in how far we are
to support it. 30
The question may have been of most pressing importance as far as

Islam was concerned, but it had also to be considered when the other
major religions of the world were involved, as well as when the
equally powerful force of nationalism was at work. Such a con-
sideration stands out clearly when we turn to look at the develop-
ment of the Communist impulse in the great sub-continent of India.
In this case, four major trends of development have been discerned.
First there were the leaders working from abroad during the First
World War and immediately afterwards, among whom the best
known was M. N. Roy. Secondly there were the members of the Pan-
Islamic Khilafat movement, some of whom also went away from
home during the war. Thirdly there were Sikh and Punjabi migrant
workers in the USA who under the influence of the IWW formed
themselves into the Ghadar Party before the war, and staged an
unsuccessful rising in their native land in early 1915. And fourthly
there were left-wing members of the National Congress, of the Khila-
fat and other movements who stayed in India and searched for the
organisation of a revolutionary party on the model of the Bolsheviks
after the success of October. Moslem motives combined here with
others- Hindu, Sikh, Christian and socialist. 31
The Indian intelligentsia, that is an intelligentsia concerned with
Western ideas, had been in existence since the early nineteenth cen-
tury. Predominantly Bengali and Hindi, it had been receptive from
an early date to the ideas of Paine and Bentham, and had debated
these and others in such organisations as the Society for Acquisi-
tion of General Knowledge formed towards the end of the I 830s.
A specifically socialist element entered the thought of the Indian
intelligentsia at about the time of the Paris Commune. Also in 1871
an application was made from Calcutta for membership of the
First International (see the Eastern Post of 19 August). Permission
was granted on 5 September to the applicants, some or all of whom
may have been Europeans. Shivanath Shastri, already a member of
the Brahmo Samaj group, formed about five years later an Egalita-
rian Group whose aim was the creation of 'communism'. Great
writers such as Bankin Chandra Chatterji and Rabindranath
THE THIRD WORLD 149
Tagore discussed questions of socialism as well as nationalism in a
manner which could loosely be called populist. Under their influ-
ence many members of the intelligentsia rediscovered their own
people through personal contact and through the revival of classics
such as the Bhagavad-Ghita. The state of mind among young intel-
lectuals was well represented by a nephew of Tagore's who gave his
support to a strike among Bombay railway signallers in 1899 and was
soon afterwards writing about his aversion to industrialisation in
general. 32
As elsewhere in the Third World it was the Russo-Japanese War
and the closely linked Revolution of 1905 that gave the first real im-
petus to the independence movement in India, breathing unprece-
dented vigour, for example, into the National Congress which had
begun a fairly moderate campaign for constitutional reform twenty
years earlier. At the opening of the Congress of 1906 the moderate
'grand old man of India' Dadabhai N airoji asked:
At the very time that China in East Asia, and Persia in West Asia,
are awakening, when Japan has already awakened, and Russia is
struggling for liberation from despotism, is it possible for the free
citizens of the British Empire in India - the people who were
among the first to create world civilisation - to continue to remain
under the yoke of despotism?
From the other side, Sir Valentine Chirol posed the following ques-
tion concerning the Russo-Japanese War: 'If the young Asiatic
David could smite down the European Goliath, what might not 300
million Indians dare to achieve?' But it would be wrong to single out
that war as a great stimulus separate from or superior to the other
sources of inspiration for these 300 million. Moslems were excited by
developments in the Ottoman Empire, and the burgeoning of Arab
as well as Persian political consciousness, which in turn were all con-
nected with events in other parts of the world, including the vast
northern neighbour Russia. Moslem and Hindu alike were fired with
enthusiasm by the Revolution of 1905, opposition to the tsarist
regime 'opening the floodgates of the people's movement'. Now 'the
people of India began to realise that the English would not be influ-
enced in the least by the academic debate and discussions that were
carried on by the Indian National Congress'.H
Among the 300 million, members of the intelligentsia would be
more aware than others of the course that history was taking in
various parts of the world, but in India itself a new excitement man-
aged to communicate itself to at least some members of the smaII in-
dustrial working class and the vast rural peasantry. A key figure in
this conjuncture was Bal Gangadhar Tilak, 'the real symbol of the
new age' according to Jawaharlal Nehru. Tilak stood for a distinctive
blend of Hindu culture with modern political action - the best means
of achieving independence and a true rebirth of that culture. In his
newspaper Kesari Tilak made frequent comparison between tsarist
rule in Russia and British rule in India, and stressed the consequent
necessity for the opposition to the latter to take up the approach of
the opposition to the former. Arrested for his agitation in 1908, he
declared: 'Once the Government resorts to repressive measures in the
Russian spirit, then the Indian subjects of England must imitate, at
least in part, the methods of the Russian people.'34 Strikes of sym-
pathy for Tilak in Bombay showed that his words were not going
unheeded, and the news of them reached as far as Lenin, who wrote:
The Indian masses are beginning to come out into the streets in
defence of their native writers and political leaders. The despicable
sentence that the English jackals passed on the Indian democrat
Tilak (he was sentenced to a long term of exile and in reply to a
question in the House of Commons , it was revealed that the Indian
Jurymen voted for his acquittal whereas the conviction was passed
by the votes of the Englishjurymen!), this act of vengeance against
a democrat on the part of the lackeys of the moneybags gave rise to
street demonstrations and a strike in Bombay. The Indian proleta-
riat too has already sufficiently matured to wage a class-conscious
and political mass struggle and that being the case, Anglo-Russian
methods in India are played out. 3'
Unrest, including violence and terrorism, continued down to the

First World War, many of those involved owing their allegiance to
'Maharishi Marx'. But yet again as in Russia and many other parts of
the world it was the outbreak of world war in 1914 that constituted
the next important step in the development of the Indian revol-
utionary movement. M. N. Roy put the subsequent situation thus:
On the outbreak of the First World War in 1914, Indian revol-

utionaries in exile looked towards Germany as the land of hope
and rushc.d there, full of expectations. By the end of the year, the
news reached us in India that the Indian Revolutionary Com-
mittee in Berlin had obtained from the German Government the
promise of arms and money required to declare the war of inde-
pendence. The news spread like wildfire, to affect the Indian sold-
iers of the British army also. Revolution was round the corner,
although we had the vaguest possible idea about the things to
come; in any case independence was within reach. The imagined
THE THIRD WORLD lSI
imminence of the attainment of the common goal induced several
secret revolutionary organisations to compose their traditional
feuds. Clandestine conferences led to the formation of the general
staff of the coming revolution. 36
Even in 1914 the Committee in Berlin insisted in its agreement with

the German government that: 'If our revolution is successful, we
shall strive to establish a communist republic in India and the
Austro-German powers shall have no right to interfere in our
efforts.'37 There was no clear view about what shape this 'communist
republic' would take, and no unanimous agreement that it should be
set up at all, but there were certainly centres of Indian revolutionary
activity not only in Berlin but also in Constantinople (after Turkey
came into the war on the side of the central powers), Kabul in Af-
ghanistan (for many years a centre of anti-British activity), and
Stockton, California, USA (the headquarters of the Ghadar Party).
From Constantinople attempts were made to infiltrate the Indian
army detachments fighting the Turks in the Middle East. In Kabul a
'provisional government of independent India' was set up, and sup-
port sought not only from local Pathan tribes, but also from Ger-
many, the tsar of Russia and then Kerensky. The Ghadar Party
staged an unsuccessful rebellion in the Indian army in 1915, and also
tried to run guns in to support other anti-British action.
The February Revolution acted as a further stimulus to seditious
activity. On 24 May 1917 the British ambassador to Sweden sent
home the following confidential telegram:
Papers recently reported arrival from Berlin of certain Indian

nationalists under the head of V. Chattopadhyaya who stated in
an interview that he was not concerned with peace propaganda
but was working for self-government for India, independent of
British control.
I was informed today that a nationalist conference will shortly
take place instigated by Finns and representatives of various
Russian nationalities, which these Indians will take part in.
Informant stated that Germans were behind it and that probably
intention was to get Lenin or other anti-English Russian extrem-
ists to work up the Indian independence movement in Russia. 38
Back home the Commonweal Office in Madras produced a pam-

phlet entitled The Lesson from Russia: A Few Notes on the Effect of
the Russian Revolution on the Problem of Home Rule for India. The
preface declared: 'What moral grit the stricken peasant of Russia
displayed will be an inspiration to the equally if not more stricken
peasant of India.' And later in the main part of the pamphlet there
was the ringing assertion: 'The Sun of Liberty rose for the children of
Nippon a few years ago; it has been rising for waking China; it is now
rising for the Russians. Our hour is approaching - India too shall
soon be free ... .' Having learned more of the agitation abroad at
Stockholm and elsewhere and the continued dissatisfaction in the
subcontinent itself, Lord Sydenham felt bound to write in the Sunday
Times of 21 October 1917: 'During the last three years we were
threatened with the most dangerous and desperate Indian revolution
since the great Mutiny of 1857.'
This was before the October Revolution, which would produce
even greater levels of excitation among both Indian radicals and their
opponents. The pro-government Statesman was soon proffering its
view that:
The Acts of the Russian Revolutionary Committee now constitute

in their collectivity what is certainly the most rapid and bids fair to
be the most comprehensive movement of subversion of which any
historical state has been subject.39
And the government itself responded to the new challenge with what
has been called its traditional policy of the carrot and the stick. The
carrot was the Montagu-Chelmsford constitutional reform of
1918-19 denounced by the Congress movement as 'Inadequate, un-
satisfactory, disappointing'. The stick was the Report of the Sedition
Committee which sat under Justice Rowlatt, and put forward the
Rowlatt Bill which proposed 'a regime of draconic repression and
complete suppression of elementary democratic rights and liber-
ties' .40 Even the stick appeared inadequate as the high prices and
wage reductions of economic slump led to great strikes after the end
of the war in Ahmedabad, Bombay, Calcutta and Madras, and wide-
spread peasant disturbance. Mahatma Gandhi who was making his
way on to the national stage, led the striking textile workers of
Ahmedabad and the dissident peasants of Champaran, and called
for a countrywide protest against the Rowlatt Bill on 6 April 1919.
Support for this 'hartal' was fairly general, and an alarmed govern-
ment responded with the machine-gunning of thousands of unarmed
demonstrators and the consequent killing of about five hundred of
them in Jalianwalla Bagh, an almost completely enclosed square in
Amritsar on 13 April. Martial law was introduced into the Punjab,
and an extreme tension threatened further violence. At the National
Congress meeting in Amritsar in December 1919 proposals were
made for sweeping land reforms, and the government's intelligence
bureau pointed out that 'Russian pro-Bolshevik practice in the
THE THIRD WORLD 153
matter of division ofland' would appeal very much to the Indian pea-
sants. Increasingly Congress members were coming to think that no
real possibility of such reforms would present itself until indepen-
dence was achieved. 41
Meanwhile there were important developments among the Indian
revolutionaries abroad. The Berlin Indian Independence Committee
was now wound up, and several of its members made their way to
Soviet Russia. Lenin was host to an Indian delegation in May 1919,
and told them to avoid the path of'Tolstoyism':
In our country too Tolstoy and others tried for the emancipation
of the people by propagating religion, but nothing came of it. So
after returning to India you propagate class struggle, that will clear
the path ofliberation.42
Differences of attitude such as this apart, the meeting between Lenin

and the Indian revolutionaries was constructive and strengthened
the ties between them as well as leading forward towards the forma-
tion of the Communist Partyoflndia (CPI). The leader of the delega-
tion and head of the 'provisional government' in Kabul, Mahendra
Pratap, went off at once - according to his own account - as com-
panion to the Soviet ambassador to Afghanistan which had just
declared its independence and therefore found itself briefly at war
again with Great Britain. The others were soon at work either in cen-
tral Asia with political agitation or in Moscow helping with the ac-
tivities of the Comintern.43
Between its Amritsar session in December 1919 and its next ses-
sion in Nagpur in December 1920 the National Congress came fully
to its new resolve: Swaraj or independence through non-cooperation
led by Gandhi, as well as the righting of pressing wrongs in the
Punjab and elsewhere. A further feature of the N agpur session was a
new spirit of unity between Hindus and Moslems. The Pan-Islamic
Khilafat movement was agitated not only by frustrations in India
but also by the dismemberment of the Ottoman Empire, which
threatened the sanctity of Mecca and Medina, the holy places. So
while the All-India Khilafat Committee gave its full support to non-
cooperation, it could not help giving much of its attention to events
vital to its religion in the Middle East.
Ironically under pressure from Kemal Pasha, and post-war
events, Khilafat motives were being downplayed in Turkey itself
and more secular aims placed to the fore. Undeterred by such cir-
cumstances, or possibly quite ignorant of them, thousands of Mos-
lems from the Punjab and other areas joined in a holy movement -
Hijrat or Hegira - to join in the struggle for the protection of the
centre of their religion away from their home where it seemed that
the Moslem faith was unable to be free. Vast numbers of emigrants
arrived in Afghanistan in the spring and summer of 1920. Most of
them returned to India before the end of the year, but a determined
handful set off through Soviet Russia to join Kemal Pasha . .They
were captured and enslaved on the way by counter-revolutionary
Turcomans, but were soon then left to fend for themselves in the
desert. They managed to make contact with Red detachments and
fought with them against the Turcomans. A few may finally have
achieved their aim of breaking through to Kemal Pasha, but at least
some stayed in Soviet Central Asia. 44
Here they were able to join an 'Army of Liberation' being directed
towards Afghanistan by M. N. Roy, who in the face of Lenin's scep-
ticism had been able to requisition for his purpose two trainloads of
men, arms, munitions and money. At the beginning of October 1920
these supplies were used as the basic equipment for an Indian Mili-
tary School in Tashkent but also, in the words of M. N. Roy, were to
lead to wider triumphs for Soviet power: 'Indian revolutionaries
would carry the message of the Russian revolution to their countries,
which would surely inspire the Indian masses to undertake heroic
actions for overthrowing the British rule.'45 The British government
was alarmed at the news, and Lord Curzon wrote a passionate pro-
test in December 1920,46 while the rupture of the Anglo-Russian
trade talks then in progress could be used as a threat. But the failure
of the Indian Military School was both the result of the inadequacy
in numbers and aptitude of its students and the hostile attitude of the
Afghan government, which Lenin had predicted:
King Amanullah was not a revolutionary. He was shrewd enough

to see that he could profit by pretending to be anti-British. But the
opportunist policy would ultimately lead him to a deal with the
highest bidder, and the British could pay more. Then, there was
the decisive consideration that, in the last analysis, King Amanul-
lah had more in common with the British rulers of India than the
Russian Bolshevik regime. 47
So although Amanullah addressed Lenin as the 'High-Born Presi-

dent of the Great Russian Republic' and Lenin greeted Amanullah
with a compliment to Afghanistan as 'the only independent state in
the world', relations between the two were never as close as optimists
such as Roy had hoped. But nor was Afghanistan the puppet of the
imperialists. Rather, as treaties were signed with the Soviet govern-
ment in February 1921 and with the British government in
November of the same year, there was the gradual realisation from
THE THIRD WORLD 155
both London and Moscow that 'an independent Afghanistan might
serve as a barrier and a buffer, rather than as a bone of contention be-
tween them'. Chicherin attempted to reassure the still highly sus-
picious Curzon of this emerging stalemate at the Lausanne
Conference in December 1922:
You are uneasy because our horsemen have reappeared on the

heights of the Pamirs, and because you no longer have to deal with
the half-witted Tsar who ceded the ridge of the Hindu Kush to you
in 1895. But it is not war that we offer you, it is peace, based on the
principles of a partition wall between US. 48
The Indian Military School at Tashkent was a failure as such, but

it did produce several of the first members of the CPI, which num-
bered no more than ten in its ranks at the time of its foundation in
Tashkent in October 1920. Roy was very much involved in the for-
mation of the CPI, but was not its chief or sole instigator; Moslem
emigrants and other Indian revolutionaries were also involved.
Before this time the government already had at its disposal 'officers
specially appointed for counter-propaganda, co-ordination of intel-
ligence, both internal and external, and organisational measures to
keep Bolshevist emissaries and propaganda out of India'. 49 To some
extent, these appointments were made as part of the campaign of in-
tervention, with emissaries and propaganda being sent into Soviet
Russia. Moreover, an energetic attempt was made in the pro-
government Indian press to blacken Bolshevism. 50 Such activity not-
withstanding, the rapprochement of the National Congress with
Communist elements already detectable in 1919 became more pro-
nounced in the early 1920s. At the Gaya session of the National Con-
gress in December 1922 Singaravelu, the Madras labour leader,
declared:
Comrades, first and foremost we have one thing to do - that is we

have to attain Swaraj and the method which we can use in attain-
ing Swaraj is non-violent non-cooperation. That method has been
disputed by our fellow Communists abroad. I told them that we
have adopted this method as a practical necessity and that I
believed in that method .... We, the Communists in India differ
from our fellow Communists in this fundamental method."
In 1923 Singaravelu formed a political party both attached to the

National Congress and adhering to the principles of communism -
the Labour Kisan Party.
And throughout the 1920s, while the government reacted and
over-reacted to any suggestion of a Bolshevik conspiracy in India,

discussions among worker and peasant opposition alike led towards
the setting-up of the Communist Party in India. While relations with
the National Congress were by no means always harmonious, the
Communists were widely recognised as playing an important part in
the struggle for Swaraj, Jawahalal Nehru himself writing in his Auto-
biography:
It is difficult to be patient with many Communists; they have de-

veloped a peculiar method of irritating others. But ... I have
always admired their great courage and capacity for sacrifice ...
the real understanding Communist develops to some extent an
organic sense of social life. Politics for him cease to be a mere
record of opportunism and groping in the dark. The ideals and ob-
jectives he works for, give a meaning to the struggle and to the sac-
rifices he willingly faces. He feels that he is part of a grand army
marching forward to realise human fate and destiny ... .52
Conversely, as we have seen, at least some Indian revolutionaries

were prepared to adapt their thinking to the 'Tolstoy an' religiosity of
Gandhiism and to show respect for the Mahatma himself. Even the
government gave some recognition to the chief proponent of Swaraj
through Satyagahra. There may have been an element of political
astuteness here, an advocate of passive resistance being patently
preferable as the leader of an independent movement to the prea-
chers of revolutionary violence. Yet colonial administrators, too,
were capable of idealism as well as conscientious devotion to what
they believed to be the best interests of the area under their jurisdic-
tion. The framers of the Montagu-Chelmsford constitutional
reforms at the end of the First World War were largely guided by
their belief in the super-eminence of parliamentary government as
were their successors during the inter-war period and after the
Second World War. S3 And Gandhi himself believed in parliamentary
government as well as in non-violent resistance as the best way of
gaining it and independence.
From India we could move with equal ease and appropriateness to
what the Western world has been accustomed to call the Far East or
Middle East. This would still be so if we left India as we arrived, dis-
cussing Pan-Islamism. For even before 1914 that movement had
reached almost global proportions. After the Russo-Japanese War
students from Turkey went to Japan and helped develop the publi-
cation there of a Moslem newspaper, their heads full of the idea of a
blend of their religion with the driving force of the conquerors of
Russia. And China too was held up as an example for Moslems and
THE THIRD WORLD 157
the formation of an alliance with the Middle Kingdom was recom-
mended, this argument gaining increased persuasiveness with the
outbreak of the Chinese Revolution in 1911. Perhaps, although far
more is involved here than the Pan-Moslem movement, we should
first direct our attention towards Mecca.
In the Middle East, as well as new directions in the principal re-
ligion of the area, there was an upsurge in nationalism at the begin-
ning of the twentieth century. And contiguity with Soviet Russia was
to add an important further element to the sweeping changes taking
place. When the sick man of Europe - the Ottoman Empire - died
soon after its erstwhile largest neighbour and chief opponent - the
Russian Empire - the time appeared to many to be ripe for revol-
ution in Turkey and elsewhere in the Middle East. Already in 1905
there were strong-enough rumblings for a thorough political earth-
quake to threaten the regimes in both Turkey and Iran, to take just
two examples.
For some years before 1905 the Young Turk movement had been
kept firmly under control and the constitution of 1876 rendered a
dead letter. Sultan Abdul Hamid II was determined to keep this satis-
factory situation unchanged, and therefore did all he could to keep
news of the inflammatory events from spreading through his empire,
especially concerning those which had occurred on the other side of
the Black Sea. He therefore took steps to make sure that the rebel-
lious crew of the Potemkin did not take that notorious warship
through the Straits. Coffee houses where rumours might be spread
by word of mouth were closed, and journalists were prohibited not
only from reporting the 'outrages', but even from mentioning the
word 'Russian'. Special steps were also taken to stop the spread of
revolution from Iran, including the dispatch of troops there.
For all the sultan's preventive measures, the insidious message did
break through. Twenty-eight officers in the Turkish army and navy
sent the following message of condolence to the family of Lieutenant
Schmidt, the leader of the Sevastopol uprising, soon after his ex-
ecution:
We too make a pledge to the great citizen Schmidt. We make a vow

over his corpse, which is dear to us and to the Russian people. We
swear that we will fight to the last drop of blood for sacred, civic
freedom, for which cause many of our great citizens have perished.
We vow that we will exert all our strength and means to acquaint
the Turkish people with events in Russia, so that by our common
effort we may achieve the right for ourselves to live as human
beings.
(What became of the twenty-eight is unknown; certainly the letter

was seized by the tsarist police before it reached the Schmidt family.)
Moreover the rise of political consciousness among Russian Mos-
lems in 1905 could not help but cross the frontiers of Turkey, especi-
ally since there was a considerable amount of human traffic across
them. Again the sultan tried to seal off such pernicious penetration,
but without success. By 1908 pressure within Turkey from the Young
Turk movement, the Moslem leadership and more popular sources
was so great that the Constitution of 1876 was revived, and in early
1909 Abdul Hamid was obliged to leave the throne in favour of his
brother. But there was no unanimity among the opponents of the
sultan. Some, like Mustafa Kemal, wanted the Ottoman Empire to
be dismantled and a strong Turkish state set up; others, including
emigre Russian Moslems, supported the idea of Pan-Turkism, which
would involve the acquisition of parts of the Russian Empire; a few,
mainly in Salonika and Paris, kept alive the belief in socialist inter-
nationalism.'
Meanwhile, in Iran, the Russian Revolution of 1905 'had a most
astounding effect', according to a contemporary observer on the
spot, who continued:
Events in Russia have been watched with great attention, and a

new spirit would seem to have come over the people. They are tired
of their rulers, and taking example of Russia, have come to think
that it is possible to have another and better form of government.
More than in the case of Turkey, migrant workers to Transcaucasia

and Transcaspia brought back inflammatory views and supported
opposition to the shah. The impetus for reform also came in the early
stages from Moslem leaders who found the shah's policies infringing
on their privileges. And so, after wide protests in 1905 and again in
1906, the shah granted a constitution including the election of a con-
sultative National Assembly - the Majlis. This was enough for con-
servatives, but well short of sufficiency for liberals, 'the salt of the
Assembly' centred in Iranian Azerbaidzhan, especially Tabriz.
The denouement of the Iranian Revolution has to be seen in a
wider context. First the Anglo-Russian Entente of 1907, whereby
Iran was divided into spheres of influence, signalled the determi-
nation of two empires to stop subversion in the face of the threat of a
powerful rival- Germany. Second, 'unofficially' ;;upported by coun-
ter-revolutionary elements in Russia, a Persian Cossack Brigade
(with Russian officers) blew up the Majlis in 1908. Tabriz held out
with the support of Baku Social Democrats, and the tsarist govern-
ment sent a force from the same city to break the siege in the spring of
THE THIRD WORLD 159
1909. In July an insurgent march on Tehran led to the seizure of the
capital and the overthrow of the shah, but the revival of the M aj/is
could not lead to much progress in the face of a threat of further
Russian incursions and the Russian occupation of 1911 speIt the
complete demise of the spirit of 1905."
The presence of up to 17,000 Russian troops in Iran in 19141ed to a
strained relationship with Turkey; then, in 1917 as in 1905, under the
impact of war and revolution, more problems were posed. Turkey
enjoyed mixed fortunes as ally to the Central Powers, but appeared
to be doing very well with the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, which handed
over to it sections of southern Transcaucasia. With the collapse of
the Central Powers however, British forces in the Middle East were
able to restore a stability favourable to British interests. And Soviet
Russia, publishing the secret treaties and disclaiming any legacy of
ambitions for expansion from the tsarist and provisional govern-
ments, was able to appeal for Turkish friendship. In a radio broad-
cast to the 'workers and peasants of Turkey' on 13 September 1919
Chicherin declared:
The way is open for England to seize on the Muslim states small
and great, with a view to their enslavement. Already she is running
things as she pleases in Persia, in Afghanistan, in the Caucasus,
and in your country. Since the day when your government surren-
dered the Straits to the disposal of England, there has been no
independent Turkey, no historic Turkish city of Istanbul on the
mainland of Europe, no independent Ottoman nation.
Fraternal co-operation was offered and an invitation 'to expel the

European robbers by simultaneous and combined force, and to
destroy and render powerless those within the country who have
become accustomed to build their fortune on your misfortune'. 56
But the Bolsheviks were being overtaken by a new movement
which had also stolen many of their clothes. Announcing his pur-
pose in August 1919 and building up his strength in Anatolia
where he had been army commander, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk
soon acquired much support for his nationalist programme which
also included many social reforms. A considerable number of his
avowed aims, such as industrial and cultural revolution, recalled
the programme of Lenin; some of them, such as the adoption of
the Western calendar and a Western script, brought back mem-
ories of Peter the Great. The father of the new Turkey certainly
leaned on Soviet support, but had no intention of succum bing to it.
Kemal and Lenin could co-operate to keep the imperialists out
of their part of the world, but could not agree on how to divide it
between themselves. Both had promised self-determination to min-

ority peoples within their boundaries, but both were becoming reluc-
tant to allow such a choice to be made in a world where departure
from one sphere of influence would almost certainly mean entrance
into another. As Kemal consolidated his power in Anatolia and
moved towards British-occupied Istanbul, he could readily agree
with Lenin that it was inimical to both their interests to acquiesce in
the Allied plans for the unrestricted opening of the Straits into the
Black Sea and the creation of buffer states in Transcaucasia. But
where should frontiers be fixed? And could there be co-operation
anyway between a Communist leader and a bourgeois nationalist?
The attempt of Kemal's rival, Enver, to secure the support of the
Second Congress of the Communist International and the formation
of the Turkish Communist Party in the summer of 1920 produced
further embarrassments. Co-operation between Turkish Com-
munists and nationalists was partly successful but mainly uneasy,
and came to an end with the throwing into the sea of most of the lea-
ders of the former in early 1921. Nevertheless, these problems and
those of the frontiers were sufficiently solved for a Soviet-Turkish
Treaty to be signed in March 1921, the same time exactly as the con-
clusion of the Anglo-Russian Trade Treaty and generally as the
introduction of the New Economic Policy. A Greek invasion of
Turkey with British support was sufficiently successful for the Soviet
government at last to give help for the expulsion of the foreigners,
but Kemal continued to show in negotiations concerning the integ-
rity of Turkey and the opening of the Straits that he would not be the
puppet of either the Western powers or of the Soviet Union. Indeed,
he himself pulled some of the strings. 57
Persia was occupied by British forces during the war, and accepted
a thinly disguised protectorate in the summer of 1919. The Soviet
government had renounced tsarist spheres of interest, but did not
welcome such immediate advantage of the renunciation being taken
by an interventionist. Chicherin made a declaration to the Persian
'workers and peasants' similar to that which he would make to their
Turkish counterparts a month or so later. The first emissaries from
Soviet Russia to Persia were turned back or shot, but a firm foothold
was gained by Soviet troops in the northernmost province of Gilan in
the spring of 1920 as they contributed to the establishment of a pro-
Soviet republic under a colourful leader, Kuchik Khan. This way-
ward fanatic was more nationalist than Communist, but more hopes
could soon be held out for the Communist Party of Persia set up
under his protection in July. But as in the case of Turkey, Soviet sup-
port for local Communists was abandoned in favour of rapproche-
ment with the bourgeois nationalists, this time with a group including
THE THIRD WORLD 161
Riza Khan which seized power in Tehran in February 1921. Nego-
tiations already in process with the preceding government were now
concluded, and the Soviet-Persian Treaty was signed on 26 February
1921. Soviet hands would be kept off Persia as long as the hands of
the British and others were kept off too. Some embarrassment was
caused Moscow when Kuchik Khan marched on Tehran with the
support of his local Soviet advisers in the summer of 1921; there was
some relief when the attempted coup failed, and even approval when
the republic of Gilan was re-occupied by Persian forces in October,
and Kuchik Khan hanged. There was some ruffling of the waters
over the question of Persian oil and concessions to capitalists and
over that of how far the Red Flag might follow or at least influence
the pattern of Soviet-Persian trade, but an amicable-enough resol-
ution was achieved in both cases, for the time being at least."
The Arab peoples were certainly in turmoil in the immediate after-
math of the First World War, but the influence among them of the
Russian Revolution appears to have been less strong than that
among their neighbours in the Middle East. This was partly because
they did not share a frontier with Russia, as did Turkey and Iran,
partly because some of their frontiers in general were still unfixed
and the necessity for 'bourgeois nationalism' - here overlaid by Pan-
Islamism or Pan-Arabism - was even greater than elsewhere in the
region. Of course, there was some significant development. For
example, in late 1920 three people from newly formed socialist
groups came together in Alexandria to form what was to become the
Communist Party of Egypt in 1922. A membership of hundreds
rather than thousands (mostly Arabs) sent one of their number to the
Third Congress of the Comintern and they accepted the '21 con-
ditions' of affiliation to it. An early appeal to the 'manual and non-
manual workers of the world' attacked the 'brutal aggression by
which British militarist and colonial officials have replied to the
sacred demands of Egypt' and promised that 'the Egyptian intel-
lectual proletariat will cease all collaboration with the oppressors'.
There were 'bourgeois nationalist' overtones here which would pre-
vent the Party from being completely orthodox, but it was con-
sidered dangerous enough for it to be driven underground in 1924.
Elsewhere among Arabs there were no greater signs of activity before
that date."
We must move over Asia to what the Western world was accus-
tomed to call the Far East and, having already considered briefly
Japan as an outlier of the Western world, we must now concentrate
on China. This sleeping giant had begun to stir itself at the middle of
the nineteenth century, to a considerable extent in response to the
prompting of an increased amount offoreign incursion. The Taiping
Rebellion (1851-1864) was at once a millenarian movement and

something more down to earth in such features as: the replacement of
Confucianism by a mixture of Christian and indigenous beliefs; the
advocacy of agrarian communism, especially collective cultivation
of the land; and the espousal of enlightened doctrines (sex equality
and the prohibition of concubines, arranged marriages, foot-binding
and opium-smoking). The Taiping Rebellion was followed by res-
toration and reaction, but the continuance of imperialist pressures
and the rapid defeat of China by Japan in the War of 1894-5 led to
the movement of the summer of 1898 known as the Hundred Days
Reform, and then to the Boxer Rebellion which reached its peak in
1899-1900, a more popular if less enlightened movement than the
Reform. 60
The westernised intelligentsia seized its chance again after the
defeat of Russia by Japan, which was much more popular in China
around 1905 than a decade before or, indeed, a decade later. For,
taking its chance in 1915 with the notorious '21 demands' undermin-
ing China's very independence, Japan was to receive as much execra-
tion as the imperialist powers of the West. Sun Vat-sen said later in a
speech in 1924, that in 1905, 'We regarded the Japanese victory as
our own victory. It was indeed a happy event.' Returning to Tokyo
from Europe in that year, he formed what has been called 'the first
league of Chinese intellectuals in modern times'. And, for Mao Tse-
tung, 'The anti-imperialist, anti-feudal, bourgeois-democratic revol-
ution in China, strictly speaking, began with Sun Yat-sen.'
That other great revolutionary leader, Lenin, considered that Sun
Vat-sen was 'apparently wholly unfamiliar with Russia' and that his
analysis of the problems confronting China was 'completely inde-
pendent of Russia, of Russian experience, of Russian literature'.
And yet the league's newspaper Min-pao published from 1905-10 in-
cluded many articles on Russia, some by Sun Vat-sen himself. In the
fourth issue, for example, a contributor declared:
The revolutionary storm in Russia has profoundly shaken the en-

tire world. . . . Although the peoples of Russia have not yet
received freedom, the domestic policy has changed, and this in
turn has exercised a great influence on the reform movement in
China.6 !
Sun Vat-sen and his colleagues, it needs to be emphasised, were

bourgeois nationalists rather than radicals, Kadets rather than Bol-
sheviks, yet their Revolution of 1911 was an important step forward
in the political consciousness of the Chinese people, an echo of 1905,
even iffor Mao it was 'a miscarriage' rather than a 'dress rehearsal' .62
THE THIRD WORLD 163
The Manchu dynasty had ended six years before the Romanovs, but
the Chinese proletariat had not awakened as much as the Russian,
nor was the intelligentsia keen to rouse it. A scholarly assessment of
this elite concludes:
As a class their interest lay in Westernizing reform, but the prere-

quisite for such reform was social stability. In 1911, their primary
and immediate concern was the preservation of law and order.
That would remain their primary concern so long as their power
was threatened by popular forces in the army, the secret societies,
or the urban masses. Yet the very nature of the urban elite's reform
program virtually guaranteed that popular opposition would
exist, and that opposition would be met with a repressive concern
for law and order. It was a vicious circle which not only precluded
the possibility of unity between the elite and the masses, but
increasingly drove the elite to the right in its effort to secure its own
power.63
Thus the elite soon put its trust in a 'strong man', Yuan Shi-kai, and
when he fell in 1916 the way was open for the warlords, a succession
of whom appointed their own civil governments.
No immediate threat was posed to China after the February
Revolution, still less after its successor in October. Already before
1917 the Russian imperial government had been losing its grip on the
Far East, and the ensuing disturbances loosened that grip still more.
This process, which has already been examined in chapter 4, resulted
in a much slighter immediate impact of the Communist message on
the Far East than had been hoped. However loud and colourful the
oratory in Moscow or Baku, it was only faintly heard in Peking. And
yet the Bolshevik example did influence the nature of the formation
of the Chinese Communist Party, and some useful contacts were
made with its founders in very difficult circumstances by Soviet emis-
saries.
Soon after October the Soviet government was making overtures
to China for the negotiation of new treaties to replace the old, but in
March 1918, according to a later Soviet complaint, the Allies 'seized
the Peking government by the throat', compelling it to abandon re-
lations with that in Moscow. Continued announcements of goodwill
from the Kremlin were listened to with more attentiveness after the
Allies favoured Japan rather than China in their settlement at Ver-
sailles in the spring of 1919. With the Red Army now pushing the
forces of Admiral Kolchak back into Siberia, a declaration was made
that it would bring about 'liberation from the yoke of the foreign
bayonet, from the yoke of foreign gold'. The unequal treaties
imposed by tsarism were denied again, and the affirmation was made
that:
The Soviet Government returns to the Chinese people without any

kind of compensation the Chinese Eastern Railway, and all gold
mining, and forestry concessions, which were seized from them by
the government of the Tsar by the Kerensky government, by the
outlaws Horvath, Semenov, Kolchak, and the Russian generals,
merchants and capitalists.64
The declaration was received with enthusiasm in China, even though

it took eight months to reach there. But the course of Sino-Soviet re-
lations did not run nearly as smoothly as these promising beginnings
suggested. Problems connected with the Red Army's advance into
Mongolia, delay in the transfer ofthe Chinese Eastern Railway and
fear of Communist infiltration were of concern to a series of Chinese
governments and were still not completely solved after the first top-
level mission of Ioffe in 1922, even though American pressure for
Japanese withdrawal from the mainland had given Soviet diplomacy
some excellent opportunities. Ioffe was certainly given an enthusi-
astic reception, especially at Peking University, where the chancellor
declared at a banquet in his honour:
The Chinese revolution was a political one. Now it is tending

towards the direction of a social revolution. Russia furnishes a
good example to China, which thinks it advisable to learn the les-
sons of the Russian Revolution, which started also as a political
movement but later assumed the nature of a social revolution.
Please accept the hearty welcome of the pupil to his teachers.65
Against a background of limited rapprochement, was the Chinese

revolution making the kind of progress estimated by the Peking U ni-
versity Chancellor? He may well have been influenced in his judge-
ment by the circumstance that it was at his institution in the winter of
1918 that a group of students encouraged by some outstanding lib-
eral professors launched a new journal called New Tide, a title
expressly defined in an early number as the October Revolution and
its wider implications.66 But students at Peking University were as
much nationalist as communist. This was clearly shown by the May
Fourth Movement launched there in 1919 in protest at the transfer
by the Paris Peace Conference of Germany's rights in Shantung to
Japan rather than China. This movement came to involve a renewed
and more penetrative attack on the old ways. An offshoot from it was
the Communist Party of China, which held its first congress in
THE THIRD WORLD 165
Shanghai in the summer of 1921, and which was at first neither uni-
formly pro-Soviet or even completely Marxist, but, like the May
Fourth Movement, predominantly formed by intellectuals with a
wide range ofviews. 67
A new element appeared to come into the situation with the first
genuine mass strike in Chinese history, in Hong Kong during the
early months of 1922. The Communist Party was far from being the
most important at this time; although the strike did increase its
strength and influence to some degree, Sun Yat-sen's Kuomintang-
itself partly influenced by the Bolshevik model - was considerably
more powerful. And so the Chinese Communist Party entered into
its fateful alliance with the Kuomintang, the way prepared by Sneev-
liet and confirmed by Ioffe, who with Sun Vat-sen issued a joint
statement in early 1923, including the following explanation:
Dr. Sun Vat-sen holds that neither the communistic order nor the
Soviet system can actually be introduced into China, because there
do not exist here the conditions necessary for the successful estab-
lishment of either communism or Sovietism. This view is entirely
shared by Mr. Ioffe who is further of the opinion that China's
paramount and most pressing problem is to achieve national unifi-
cation and attain full national independence; and in connection
with this great task, he has assured Dr. Sun Vat-sen that China has
the warmest sympathy of the Russian People and can count on the
support of Russia. 68
If China was not ripe for proletarian revolution, its neighbouring

states such as Korea and Outer Mongolia could hardly be expected
to be more mature, although the foundation of the Communist Party
of Korea and the Mongolian People's Party in 1920 pointed the way
forward to later Red harvests. 69 Everywhere throughout Asia
October's influence had been felt. As K. M. Panikkar puts it:
That the Russian Revolution quickened the pulse of the peoples of

Asia no one would deny. That it also helped to awaken the masses,
to create doubts in the minds of thinking people about the validity
of many things which they had accepted without question from the
West, could not also be doubted. Equally it would be accepted that
its general effect was to weaken the hold of the West on the peoples
of Asia. 70
Panikkar goes on to point out that the impact would vary from one
section of the continent to another. Nobody could argue with this
either, although it would take some years before the differentiation
became clear. In great countries and in others not so great, the Com-
munist movements were often small, even minute, yet in the fevered
atmosphere of the post-war world their potential was often exagger-
ated by themselves and their opponents. In the longer run, Com-
munist confidence and capitalist concern both received ample
justification.
Finally we move to Latin America, which was included by John
Reed in a speech made by him at the Baku Congress of the Peoples of
the East in September 1920:
You, the peoples of the East, the peoples of Asia, have not yet ex-
perienced for yourselves the rule of America. You know and hate
the British, French and Italian imperialists, and probably you
think that 'free America' will govern better, will liberate the
peoples of the colonies, will feed and defend them.
No, the workers and peasants of the Philippines, the peoples of
Central America and the islands of the Caribbean, they know what
it means to live under the rule of 'free America'.71
True, John Reed was no longer in such a euphoric mood as he had

been a year or two previously. Angelica Balabanova later recalled
that on his return to Moscow, 'Jack spoke bitterly of the demagogy
and display which had characterised the Baku Congress and the
manner in which the native population and the Far Eastern delegates
had been treated'.72 Nevertheless, there is no gainsaying the circum-
stance that Central and even more South America would appear
remote from Baku, Moscow and every other centre of the Russian
Revolution in 1920. Broadly speaking we may accept the observation
that in the early years the Soviet government and the Com intern
'concentrated their extra-European activities in the Asiatic and Afri-
can territories of those Great Powers. The United States was at that
time a minor foe, and so Latin America, the backyard of the USA,
was considered of small importance'73
However, as in other remote areas, there could be some response
from sympathisers with the Russian Revolution without any serious
challenge to its opponents. Socialism had for some years been put-
ting down its roots in Latin America, and, from such origins, five
communist parties were formed in the years immediately following
the Russian Revolution, in Argentina, Chile, Uruguay, Brazil and
Mexico.
The nature of the party in Mexico was conditioned both by recent
experience of a domestic revolution and the always significant conti-
guity with the United States. And so the Communist Party of
Mexico first founded in 1919 soon took on a peasant-nationalist
THE THIRD WORLD 167
tinge graphically illustrated in the work of its most famous member,
the painter Diego Rivera. Moreover, just as the American govern-
ment had intervened on many occasions in Mexico's domestic
affairs, so American radicals came to play an important part in the
formation of the CPM - Linn A. E. Gale, Charles Phillips, Luis
Fraina and Bertram D. Wolfe to name but four. In Mexico, too,
there was most clearly evident the influence of other outsiders, all
working on behalf of the Comintern - M. N. Roy, Katayama Sen
and Michael Borodin (a Russian who had lived for some years in the
USA). Not only might Mexico with a vigorous Communist Party
appear as a possible springboard for revolution elsewhere, it could
also continue to act as a thorn in the side of the United States and re-
strain that great power from continuance of intervention in Russia. 74
Elsewhere in Latin America, communist parties tended to form
where there were large immigrant groups among the population and
enough urban industrialisation for labour organisations to take on
some political importance. In Argentina before the First World War,
the socialist movement's left wing had been against revisionism and
compromise, and it could not be happy when, as the events of 1917
unfolded, the movement's newspaper labelled the Bolsheviks as the
worst enemies of the Russian Revolution. In January 1918, there-
fore, a breakaway group founded the International Socialist Party,
and this changed its name to the Communist Party of Argentina in
December 1920. Although it protested strongly during the 'tragic
week' of 1919 when strikers were shot down by the army, it possessed
little worker membership of its own, and remained a small party in
general. In Chile hopes were brighter because there was no split in the
Socialist Workers Party. At the congress convened in December
1921 it voted unanimously to become the Communist Party of Chile
and join the Com intern. It was very active in the trade union move-
ment, and made some headway there in these early years. In Uruguay
a majority of the Democratic Socialist Party agreed to become the
Communist Party and to join the Comintern in April 1921. It also
had some influence among the labour movement, publishing a news-
paper with the title of The Red Trade Union. Brazil was a somewhat
different case, since the radical movement there was anarchist more
than socialist. Its newspaper carried a pro-Soviet appeal from
Maxim Gorky in February 1919 and other sympathetic articles, but
in March 1921 the Soviet government was denounced as the most
brutal expression of authority. The Communist Party was formed in
Rio at about this time but with only a handful of members. It enjoyed
the further unique distinction of being the first Latin American Com-
m unist Party to be banned - in 1922.75
Apart from in these five countries, there was awareness of the
Russian Revolution throughout the rest of Latin America, including

the Caribbean. But the major surge forward would come after the
Second World War, notably with Castro's Revolution in Cuba.
After the First World War, as in other parts of the world, Latin
American governments were making an unofficial accommodation
with the Soviet government in the shape of trade agreements. For
example, as late as 1923, Argentina still recognised the tsarist diplo-
matic representatives, but commerce had been joined with Soviet
Russia from 1921 onwards. 76 And so in the Third World as in the
Western after some alarms and threats, at least a temporary rappro-
chement was being made between the citadel of world revolution and
its principal opponents.
Part Three
Revolutions in Retrospect and Prospect
As Daniel Field has written:
Professional historians produce in response to subjective and pro-

fessional imperatives but also in response to demand. Society
wants the historian's product because it seeks an affirmation of the
cherished conception of itself and a rendering of the past for trans-
mission to the young.
Headds:
... the experience of Soviet life and culture has shaped their out-
look,just as our society shapes ours, and the results are manifest in
the works of historians in each country. 1
In chapter 7, we shall be guided by these straight-forward yet far-

sighted remarks of an American scholar as we turn to an historiogra-
phical retrospect on revolution, concentrating on the practice on the
craft in the United States and the Soviet Union, especially as con-
cerned with 1776 and 1917. For, although not completely apparent
170 REVOLUTIONS IN RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT
as recently as 1945, the emergence of the two present super-powers

and their huge influence in world affairs are all too obvious in 1978
and are likely to remain so for many years to come. That is, if there
are many years to come, for the prospects of long-term survival for
the human race do not appear any brighter at the time of writing than
they have in the last thirty years or so. To the extent that the fateful
clash stems from respective ideologies, the study of their historical
roots and comparison between them are of outstanding importance.
For American emphasis on individual rights and Soviet insistence on
social justice both stem from revolutionary origins. Minor themes in
this final chapter will be the 'totalitarian' view of the Soviet Union,
especially in juxtaposition or even equation with Nazi Germany, and
the attitudes towards other historiographical problems to be found
in the West and the Third W orId. Finally, there will be some brief ref-
erence to the necessity for a future revolution; these concluding ob-
servations will emphasise that previous historical experience from
the seventeenth to the twentieth centuries could be of service in pre-
serving and reshaping the world of tomorrow.
6 Sixty Years After
All researchers operate in space-time, but the manner in which they

do so varies considerably. Physicists work on a scale which varies
from sub-atomic particles so small that their very existence is debat-
ed, to the whole universe too huge for the mind to grasp, from mil-
lionths of a second to millions of years. Meanwhile Western
historians are reluctant to abandon specialisation., which transcend
national boundaries or more than a few decades. While they might to
some extent be excused since the object of their enquiry, the develop-
ment of human society, is so difficult to pin down, and the means of
carrying out that task at their present disposal are so primitive, their
timidity is often at variance with their aspiration. While they would
widely agree with Marc Bloch that the only true history is universal
history, many of them would argue that there must be a moratorium
on such ambitious projects until the basic spadework, the collection
of evidence and the refinement oftechnique, has been brought nearer
completion. This is not so much a counsel of perfection as a con-
fession of impotence, since in all fields of human enquiry, general-
isation and supportive evidence advance together. Moreover there
are pressing reasons for getting on with the job, as everybody knows.
That tiny piece of the universe to which we attach disproportionate
importance, the world, is in daily danger of self-destruction, and all
its citizens need to do whatever they can to avert this local explosion.
A few historians, much more assertive than their colleagues, argue
that the study of their subject offers the most complete restraint on
global fission. While most members of the guild appear to bury
themselves in earlier centuries to avoid the twentieth, gaining a false
confidence in the continuance of human life on the flimsy presuppo-
sition that there is no reason for it to cease what it has managed to do
for so long, this small minority, agreeing with Shakespeare that
what's past is prologue, believe that by unravelling the great knot of
today's world into yesterday's more simple threads a comprehensive
resolution may be achieved of our present complexities. A more
moderate statement of such an approach would recognise not only

that the exact isolation of every thread would be too demanding a
task, but also that new lines or tangles might be introduced without
obvious antecedents, thus accepting another argument with a differ-
ent metaphor: 'The future grows from the past as a plant grows from
a seed, yet it contains more than the past.'1
We have been talking so far of 'Western historians', by which we
mean those who would be identified in other parts of the world as the
'bourgeois historians' of Western Europe, the Western and Southern
Hemispheres and Japan. Socialist historians in the Soviet Union and
Eastern Europe have no difficulty in pursuing a speciality at the same
time as accepting an overall view of their subject which is at once
scientific, progressive and universal. According to this view, world
communism will take over from imperialism, that is, capitalism at its
highest stage, as certainly as capitalism replaced the earlier feudal
stage of human development. This, of course, is the Marxist view of
history, and yet it should not be forgotten that Marx himself neither
brought his own theory to the ultimate stage of refinement nor pro-
duced it in anything like its entirety out of the blue. Already in the
eighteenth century and even in the seventeenth, the way was being
prepared for the materialist conception of history. And later Lenin
added his own gloss to Marxism, particularly appropriate for the
stage of development reached in his own part of the world at a time of
revolution, but also worthy of inclusion in the general corpus of
Marxist theory.
In this book we have paid special attention to the Leninist argu-
ments, to those which prepared the way for the Russian Revolution,
and then gave direction to it. But it has been our first concern to give
some account of the origins of the Russian Revolution and its con-
text two centuries and more before the birth of Lenin. While not
accepting the following argument of Miliukov we have agreed with
him at least about the necessity of taking a longer view of the great
event than is customary:
Just as a powerful geological cataclysm playfully casts down the

crust of the latest cultural strata and brings to the surface long-
hidden strata recalling the dim past - the ancient epochs of the
earth's history - so the Russian Revolution laid bare for us all our
historical structure, only thinly hidden by the superficial layers of
recent cultural acquisitions. The study of Russian history in our
day gains a singular new interest, because through the social and
cultural strata displayed on the surface of the Russian upheaval
the attentive observer can graphically trace the history of our past.
What strikes the foreign observer of contemporary affairs, what is
SIXTY YEARS AFTER 173
for him the first key to the eternal sphinxlike silence of the Russian
people, has long been known to the sociologist and student of
Russia's historical evolution. For the latter, Lenin and Trotsky
lead movements far closer to Bolotnikov, Razin and Pugachev - to
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries of our history - than to
the latest words of European anarchic-syndicalism. 2
In our estimation 'European anarchic-syndicalism' had just as much

to do with the Revolution as had the 'peasant wars' of the early
modern period, since it contained within itself a formidable in-
terpretation of world history as well as a recommendation for revol-
utionary change.
By no means all Marxists accept current Soviet interpretations of
history; although they usually go along with what Lenin had to say,
they often give more emphasis to the arguments of Trotsky, especi-
ally the 'combined development' assessment of Russian history as set
out in the first chapter of his account of the Revolution. Most
Trotskyists are to be found in the Western world, as are a whole
range of other self-styled Marxists seeing themselves as the ideo-
logical opponents of the Soviet dogmatists. These sometimes follow
the criticisms of Lenin made by such contemporaries as Antonio
Gramsci and Rosa Luxemburg. A few, such as the Red Army Frac-
tion in Germany and the Red Brigade in Italy, preach terroristic viol-
ence; a great many more in the revisionist Communist parties of Italy
and France increasingly accept a peaceful, evolutionary view of
human development and have at least begun to contemplate the
abandonment of such central doctrines as the 'dictatorship of the
proletariat' .
Meanwhile in the Third World the debate rages with at least equal
ferocity. The Chinese world outlook, formed and fortified by the
thoughts of Chairman Mao, is the strongest, or at least the best
known, owing to the power that the Chinese Peoples Republic is able
to exert. But there are many Third World leaders who do call them-
selves socialist, and more than a few who would accept the label of
Marxist. In the case of newly formed nations, problems of historical
interpretation are particularly pressing, since a convincing ancestry
is as necessary for them as a credible attitude towards their place in
the family of nations today.
In this final chapter we shall say something about each of the views
forming such a wide spectrum. We will begin with and concentrate
on a comparison of the outlooks not of the Third World, but of those
to be found elsewhere. With the transformation of Europe from
many states into two main blocs, at least some of the old quarrels
have been settled and some of the old distortions put right. More
generally J. H. Plumb has recently voiced a long-held aspiration that

with the demise of the nationalistic history, to him false history, will
come the dawn of universal, true history.3 But how have historians
responded to the call in the world's two most powerful states, the
USA and the USSR? On the face of it, since their basic ideologies
reflect respectively the universality of the eighteenth-century En-
lightenment and of nineteenth-century Marxism, they should have
produced work of a framework much wider than that of their Euro-
pean colleagues. To discover whether or not this has indeed been the
case, let us consider American and Soviet historians first as they ap-
proach their own history, and then, as they approach each other's,
giving special emphasis to problems of revolution and breadth of
focus.
Perhaps the most striking characteristic of American historio-
graphy on the USA has been its heavy 'Whig' emphasis, its insistence
that the American Revolution produced a new society of universal
significance. The classical statement of this interpretation was made
by George Bancroft, who was not only a thorough scholar but also a
considerable patriot. A century or so after the great event he
declared:
When all Europe slumbered over questions of liberty, a band of

exiles, keeping watch by night, heard the glad tidings which prom-
ised the political regeneration of the world. A revolution, unex-
pected in the moment of its coming, but prepared by glorious
forerunners, grew naturally and necessarily out of the series of past
events by the formative principle of a living belief.4
In such a view, the nearest approach to an individual saviour of man-

kind would be George Washington. Ludicrous though the tale of the
felling of the cherry tree may now appear, the moral message con-
tained in it and other anecdotes was real and earnest enough in its
time to many of the contemporaries of George Bancroft. And the
image of Washington as light of the world crossed the Atlantic suf-
ficiently to arouse some stout defenders. To give a small but not
insignificant illustration, one nineteenth-century reader of the Uni-
versity of Edinburgh copy of Aaron Bancroft's biography wrote as a
marginal comment: 'The author of this book gives Washington by
far too good a character, but there was an excuse for him as he was an
American himself.' This aroused the following rejoinder of another
reader: 'The writer of the above paragraph shows himselfto be either
an infernal idiot or an envious fool; for never was there a greater or a
better man than George Washington, the Founder of the American
Republic.' Washington's image may not shine so brightly two
hundred years on, but, we are told, 'The drama that began in 1776
has not yet been played out'; the Revolution is still proclaimed as
'not an event in American history alone but a turning-point in world
history, not a single crisis settled in a brief span of years but a broad
movement ofliberation which has not yet run its course'. 5
Continued celebration has led inevitably to some distortion as well
as exaggeration. The losers, the Tory Loyalists, were totally ignored
when not maligned until towards the end of the nineteenth century,
and have only recently been given anything like their scholarly due.'
Because of the emphasis on a 'consensus' interpretation ofthe Revol-
ution, the lower social orders, the city 'mobs' and the rank and file
soldiers and sailors, have also not been examined in the manner they
deserve until the last decade or SO.7 Most seriously in the context of
the present discussion, the Revolution and American history in gen-
eral were for too long looked upon as unique. A kind of Monroe
Doctrine possessed the minds of historians in the USA; the New
World should throw off the somnolent past of the Old as it rejected
its political present. Paradoxically the people who had achieved its
independence acknowledging that 'a decent respect to the opinions
of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel
them to the separation', increasingly believed in its 'Manifest Des-
tiny' to conquer a continent irrespective of such opinions, the orig-
inal universalist ideology becoming the cloak for a rampant
nationalism.
Towards the end of the nineteenth century the classical Whig view
of the American Revolution began to break up with the arrival of the
so-called 'Imperial School' of historians. Coinciding with the arrival
of the imperialist period in American development, and to some
extent following on the 'frontier thesis' of F. J. TurnerB - born of his
realisation that possibilities of internal expansion had virtually
exhausted themselves - this new school of historians were moved to
follow the celebrated injunction of Admiral Mahan to look outward.
In the works of Charles M. Andrews, George L. Beer and
Herbert L. Osgood, the principal consideration was given to the
Anglo-Saxon or English-speaking peoples, and the strong suggestion
was made that the part played by them would continue to be of out-
standing importance. For example, having defined imperialism as a
'new nationalism' based on the concept of a distinctive civilisation
that was to be upheld and spread, Beer argued that in the late nine-
teenth century other Western powers realised that
... unless they themselves deliberately and methodically

embarked on a similar course, their future part in the world was
destined to be relatively unimportant, in comparison with the
seemingly assured destinies of the Russian and English-speaking

peoples who had spread themselves over large areas. 9
The resulting rivalry, including Germany's quest for her place in the
sun, led to the First World War.
The next major stage in the expansion of the American historio-
graphical framework occurred after the great watershed of the First
World War and the Russian Revolution. The new Wider Horizons of
American History, as described by Herbert E. Bolton, were to com-
prise the whole of the Western hemisphere, its Latin section now
being joined with the Anglo-Saxon in what might be called a histo-
riographical 'good neighbour' policy. In his presidential address to
the American Historical Association in 1932 Bolton pointed out that
A report by a recent committee of historians complains that many

doctoral thesis subjects in United States history had been culti-
vated past the point of diminishing returns. A larger synthesis of
American History, I am sure, would do much to relieve this rather
pathetic situation. lo
What Turner had achieved with his frontier thesis, Bolton now
hoped to do with his concept of the 'Greater America'. If in the short
run Bolton enjoyed nothing like the influence that was gained by F. J.
Turner or C. A. Beard, views similar to his became widespread after
the Second World War. (Neither Turner nor Beard widened the hor-
izons of American history in the sense under discussion here.)
Although Turner argued that 'local history must be viewed in the
light of world history' and also considered briefly the question of
possible sequels to the triumph in the USA of 'Bolshevistic labour
ideas', his energies were concentrated on trying to account for, as
Hofstadter says, 'not the evolution of modern democracy in general,
but only the distinctive features of its American version.' Similarly,
although considering class conflict, the Constitution and industrial
revolution when examining the Civil War, Beard could be said
throughout his work to be heading towards the 'American Conti-
nentalism' of his later years, for all the sentiments such as those
voiced in his AHA presidential address of 1933, 'Written History as
an Act of Faith':
The supreme issue before the historian now is the determination

of his attitude towards the disclosures of contemporary thought.
He may deliberately evade them for reasons pertaining to person-
al, economic, and intellectual comfort, thus joining the innumer-
able throng of those who might have been but were not. Or he
may proceed to examine his own frame of reference, clarify it,
enlarge it by acquiring knowledge of greater areas of thought and
events, give it consistency of structure by a deliberate conjecture
respecting the nature or direction of the vast movements of ideas
and interests called world history.11
The first effect of the Second World War was the emergence of the
idea of the Atlantic civilisation. Although this had some roots in the
'imperial school's' latter-day triumph in the shape of the Atlantic
Charter and the English-speaking special relationship between
Roosevelt and Churchill, it was more intimately connected with the
alliance between the United States and Western Europe effected
through the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation. Making specific
reference to at least the Atlantic Charter in their contribution to the
proceedings of the Tenth International Congress of Historians in
Rome in 1955, R. R. Palmer and Jacques Godechot outlined the
concept of a late eighteenth-century democratic revolution affecting
the whole of Atlantic civilisation. They have since each developed the
concept in a somewhat different manner, and encouraged others to
conduct their researches according to their hypothesis. 12
Another line of filiation stretching back to the 'imperial school'
can be detected in the comparative studies of slavery and the slave
trade that have been carried out since the Second World War,
although the Bolton influence may also be seen here. A further rele-
vant factor is the decolonisation movement and the burgeoning in-
terest in their origins of black peoples both in Africa and the Western
hemisphere. Thus one of the first books to trigger off discussion in
this period was written by the Jamaican prime minister, Eric Wil-
liams, whose Capitalism and Slavery was first published in 1944.
While Williams concentrated on the Atlantic trade, Frank Tannen-
baum made a single contribution to the development of the discus-
sion in the more restricted sphere with his Slave and Citizen: The
Negro in the Americas, which first came out in 1947. A large amount
of high-quality work in comparative slavery has followed since, and
C. Vann Woodward has enlarged upon the thesis of the Dutch
scholar Wilhelmina Kloosterboer concerning comparative emanci-
pations. 13
To C. Vann Woodward must also go at least some of the credit
for opening up American history as a whole to comparative con-
sideration, a move in line with historiographical development else-
where and especially promoted by medieval historians, two of
whom, Marc Bloch and Henri Pirenne, made particular efforts to
persuade their colleagues to think in such a manner. As far as the es-
sentially non-medieval case of the United States is concerned,
Woodward points out in The Comparative Approach to American
History that 'The striking paradox of a nation that professes histori-
cal parochialism and practises cosmopolitan involvement calls for
attention from professional historians.'14 Somewhat surprisingly,
this paradox has been as applicable to the historians of the New Left
as to the more conservative 'consensus' school. IS While at least one of
them, Jesse Lemisch, wishes to encourage 'a Left historian who
wants to work on 12th century trade patterns', 16 he himself and most
of his colleagues specialise in American history, thus still echoing in
their own manner the famous words of Stephen Decatur, 'our
country, right or wrong', even if giving fresh emphasis to the wrong.
Even as far as foreign policy is concerned, David Donald, putting
forward his own argument and quoting others, tells us:
The Radicals usually do research only in American archives, and

they concentrate on showing how United States policy was
formed. As a result, Henry Pachter has observed, their mono-
graphs frequently tend 'to attribute too much of what happened in
the last 80 years to American initiatives. We did this, we did that-
as though diplomacy was not an interaction of many powers.'
Dean Ernest May of Harvard points out that this single-archive
approach to diplomatic history often leads to another kind of dis-
tortion: 'Those historians who concern themselves exclusively
with American events tend also to be those who are on the hunt for
villains. '17
May himself elsewhere points the way towards an exit from such
an impasse1s by declaring that: 'In fact, there may be only one nation
in all of history that has had anything like America's post-1945 ex-
perience, and that is its contemporary and adversary, the USSR. '19 If
this be so, historians must surely recognise that the pre-1945 experi-
ence of the superpowers is also to some extent comparable. So it has
certainly appeared to many observers from at least as far back as the
end of the eighteenth century onwards. Here we are concerned with
investigating the degree of similarity of their historiographies from
the point of view of their nationalist framework.
The first obvious obstacle to the implementation of an exercise
which is very heavily burdened with difficulties of many kinds is that
the Russian Revolution is of much more recent provenance and of
much more bloody immediate consequences than the American. The
result of a comparative exercise may well be to show that the differ-
ences outweigh the similarities, as we proceed to the investigation
of Russian historiography, both pre-revolutionary and post-
revolutionary.
Russian historians of the nineteenth century shared with their
counterparts in the United States and most European countries a
nationalist 'Whig' outlook. They saw their primary task as the expla-
nation of the process by which the Russian Empire had come to be
formed, and by strong implication gave encouragement to the view
that the Russian Empire would continue to exist, and in its own
peculiar fashion prosper. The greatest of them, S. M. Solovev and
his pupil V. O. Kliuchevsky, were both men of broad and cosmo-
politan culture, and yet both gave their major emphasis to the study
of the organic growth of the Great Russian state. At the same time
neither could be as lyrical in the celebration of their major theme as
was Bancroft, since each of them was by far too honest a scholar to
conceal from himself the inefficiency and injustice of the tsarist
regime. Yet even though Kliuchevsky was still active throughout the
first turbulent decade of the twentieth century, he never ceased to
hope that the organic growth could continue without any form of
revolutionary discontinuity.2o
The tensions with which the historians of the last days of tsarism
had to reconcile themselves are most appropriately embodied for us
by Pavel N. Miliukov, who was an active politician as well as an out-
standing scholar. Among other aspects of his career which are par-
ticularly relevant to our theme is his close association with the
United States, where in 1903 at the University of Chicago he gave
what was probably the first American series of lectures on Russian
civilisation by a Russian. 21 Published as Russia and Its Crisis, the
series concluded with Miliukov's affirmation that 'Russia wants a
political representation, and guaranties of what are called the funda-
mental rights of individuality'.22 Nearly twenty years after, having
struggled unsuccessfully for the establishment of a liberal demo-
cracy, Miliukov remained convinced that his views were correct,
agreeing with the leader of the ill-fated Root Mission about 'the
meaning of that Revolution which lies at the bottom of the American
policy towards Russia, the only policy that is sound and really friend-
ly'. Miliukov quoted with approval Root's observation that 'We
must remember that a people in whom all constructive effort had
been suppressed for so long, cannot immediately develop a genius for
quick action.'23 Miliukov continued to present his evolutionary view
of Russian history which would culminate in the establishment of
something like the American system of government.
Before 1917 there had been no shortage of attempts to show that
Russia could peacefully evolve in such a direction, even though most
of his colleagues were not as Americanophile as Miliukov himself.24
After the October Revolution, an almost complete rejection of such
an optimistic view took place under the aegis of M. N. Pokrovsky,
who dominated Soviet historiography throughout most of the

1920s. 25 According to Pokrovsky the whole of pre-revolutionary
Russian history was to be seen as a preparation for the October
Revolution. Such a terminal point was its only positive feature; the
rest was a tale of the most vicious exploitation in feudal, capitalist
and imperialist eras alike. All the great national heroes, including
Peter the Great, were reduced to ciphers completely controlled by the
relentless forces of the class struggle and the development of the ex-
ploitation of natural resources. Even Lenin found Pokrovsky's ap-
proach too broad and impersonal for easy comprehension and
recommended that a chronological appendix be appended to his gen-
eral history.
Soon after his death in 1932 Pokrovsky's work was denounced as
schematic and mechanical, and during the Stalinist era of 'Socialism
in One Country', 'Pokrovskyite' became a term of opprobrium.
Nationalist history made a triumphant comeback, and such figures
as Peter the Great were rehabilitated as outstanding contributors to
the early formation of the Socialist Fatherland. 26 This tendency be-
came even more marked during the years of the Second World War,
and with the ensuing onset of the cold war 'Soviet patriotism' was
still the most desirable feature of historical writing while 'cosmo-
politanism' had become the quality most to be deplored. As in the
American case, universalist aspirations became the disguise of
nationalism. Even the most distinguished historians were suspected
or accused of deviations away from the good norm or towards the
bad. As in other cultural fields, such as education and literature, a
necessary accompaniment of the construction and reconstruction of
socialism first in one country, then throughout Eastern Europe, was
rigid conformity to narrowly if not always clearly defined regulations
of orthodoxy.
With the death of Stalin and the ensuing 'thaw' historians joined in
the difficult exercise of establishing different norms for published
works. Some went too far in the new direction, notably the majority
of the editorial board of the principal journal, Voprosy islorii ('Prob-
lems of History'). The second-in-command, E. N. Burdzhalov, came
under heaviest fire for his over-enthusiastic participation in the cam-
paign of Destalinisation. While it was a hopeful sign that Burdzhalov
made a substantial comeback so that his excellent book on the
February Revolution of 1917 could be published in 1967, neither he
nor his colleagues could yet feel confident that harsh criticism and
demotion might not be meted out to them for work unacceptable to
the Party. Historians such as Andrei Amalrik have been sent into
harsh Siberian exile, admittedly for works that are closer to political
pamphleteering than to academic scholarship; Amalrik is now in the
West. Others have been demoted for alleged misinterpretation of the
Russian Revolution. 17
At the same time even militantly anti-Soviet Western historians
could now admit that work of real value to them has been published
in the Soviet Union with official approval in recent years, for
example the monographs on the nineteenth century by
P. A. Zaionchkovsky.18 Moreover in recent years we can see his-
torians moving towards an acceptance of the comparative approach
for pre-revolutionary, if not revolutionary and post-revolutionary
history. The partial rehabilitation of M. N. Pokrovsky could be seen
as a step in the same direction. But the base of the Soviet 'Whig' view
is still that of the Fatherland.
Before we turn to consider the question of the extent to which such
trends mark a convergence of American and Soviet historiography,
we must summarily investigate the consideration of Soviet history by
Americans and vice versa, although in an even more summary
manner than our survey so far. Among the friends of
Pavel N. Miliukov at the University of Chicago at the beginning of
the twentieth century was Samuel Harper, who was among the first
American university professors to concern themselves with the study
of Russia. Predictably enough, like the outstanding British historian
of Russia of the period, Sir Bernard Pares, Harper was a great sup-
porter of Russian liberalism. Accompanying Elihu Root on his mis-
sion to the Provisional Government in 1917, Harper was encouraged
to conclude that the cause in which he believed was now triumphant,
even though there were a few dampers to his enthusiasm such as the
enforced resignation from the Foreign Ministry of Miliukov and the
growing threat of Bolshevism. Harper encouraged Root to think that
democracy of the American type would in the end be victorious,
although this view was modified later when he came to publish
his memoirs under the title 'The Russia I Believe In'.19 Harper
helped set the essential tone for American writing on Russian
history that has persisted down to more recent times, the basis
for which is that the Soviet Union will one day be freed from
Communist oppression and assume a form of government similar
to that of the United States. It has received encouragement from
many emigres sharing the outlook of Miliukov. In such a per-
spective the pivotal point of Soviet history, the October Revol-
ution of 1917, is looked upon as a sad and unfortunate incident
which might have been avoided and was not profound enough in
its influence to be inevitable. Christopher Lasch believes that
such 'optimism' persisted down into the thirties and forties, writing:
The depression and the New Deal, by making the issue of

economic inequality a matter of general concern, gave weight
to the argument that the Bolshevik revolution was primarily an
experiment in social justice; the rise of the Nazis made the Bolshe-
viks seem innocuous by comparison; and the war brought the
United States into outright alliance with communism. Thus the
full significance of the revolution, already made explicit under
Stalin, went largely unnoticed in this country until the late 1940s.
But even then it was difficult for Americans to believe that the
revolution was not only a bad thing for liberalism but that, equally
important, it was here to stay. On the contrary, Americans per-
suaded themselves that the communist dictatorship would topple
of its own weight (providing the West stood firm). So autocratic a
form of government, they thought, was inherently unstable. Even
Mr. George F. Kennan, who otherwise did so much to make
Americans aware of the nature of the Soviet system, insisted that
the only hope of the West lay in an eventual liberalizing of the
system. Thus it may be questioned whether Americans ever
resigned themselves to coexistence with evil.
Lasch concludes by saying that 'To live in a world half of which is

dominated by one's enemies is not something that comes easily to
Americans brought up in the benevolent assumptions of the eight-
eenth century Enlightenment. 3o
Turning to the men of the thirties and the forties, let us single out
for special attention perhaps the most influential of them as Lasch
suggests, Mr. George F. Kennan, who has produced both academic
work and political advice of generally accepted high quality, while
enjoying a successful career as diplomat and university professor.
Kennan was one of the principal advocates in the years following the
Second World War of the 'containment' of communism, although he
insists that he did not want such a policy to be military in its emphasis
but rather political and economic. Recognising that the Soviet
government had essential interests to protect, he also argued that
If it were not for the peculiar personality and behavior of the

Soviet regime itself - its ideological preconceptions against the
West, its cruelties at home, the traditionally Russian sense of sus-
picion and insecurity vis-a-vis the outside world by which it was
inspired, and above all its cultivation for domestic-political pur-
poses of the myth of a hostile external environment - the problem
of the protection of Soviet power within Russia might never have
been what it was. l1
Kennan believes that the employment of historical perspective en-
courages understanding ofthe peculiar personality and behaviour of
the Soviet regime itself. He goes back beyond his father's exposure of
the harshness of the tsarist government's usage of the Siberian exile
system to the reign of Nicholas I to find an administration closely
similar to that of the 1970s.32 While historical continuity is certainly
an observable fact in Soviet as well as American and every other kind
of history, it could well be going too far to equate the government of
a pre-industrial, predominantly peasant society by a monarch with
the support of a religious ideology and a land-owning nobility, with
that of the heavy industrialised, at least half-urban society by an indi-
vidual or group with the support of Marxist-Leninist ideology and a
privileged, but not in any major sense, property-owning political
party. It is doubtful that American historians would feel that the
United States could best be understood by an examination of the
presidencies from Jackson to Buchanan, granted that some still
useful insights were provided by Alexis de Tocqueville and other
foreign visitors in a manner broadly comparable to that of de Custine
in tsarist Russia. And would Soviet historians be likely to use such
analogies as Kennan in a similar fashion? That is among the ques-
tions to which we must now turn.
N. N. Bolkhovitinov informs us that 'American studies in the
Soviet Union are a comparatively young branch of historical science
... one may justifiably speak of American studies as an independent
field in the Soviet Union only in the 1950s and 1960s'33 In these two
decades, from starting-points such as the writings of Marx, Engels
and Lenin, A. V. Efimov's Towards the History ojCapitalism in the
USA, which was first published in 1934, and a whole series of disser-
tations, monographs and general works have been completed. (The
Old Left in the USA (the internal emigres) help them through their
publications rather as external Russian emigres render assistance to
American historians of the USSR.) Special attention has been paid
to the questions of the Negro and imperialism among others. While
little use has so far been made by them of archival materials, Soviet
historians may be said to have provided some interesting insights
and to have made some contribution to one of American
historiography's least developed areas, its conceptual framework. 34
At the same time, obviously enough, they present a view of Ameri-
can development which is as adversely critical in its own way as is
that of Soviet development from the American point of view. Heavy
emphasis is given to the belief that the USA needs a revolution of the
Russian type, even though this is not explicitly stated. 35 Thus we
may conclude that Soviet historians continue to visit their own pre-
conceptions on American history at least as much as do American
historians on Soviet history.

Now let us move on to methodology. At the end of an article
on contemporary American historiography, N. N. Bolkhovitinov
writes:
Attested and well-founded factual data and conclusions, however
paradoxical they seem at first glance, must receive a correct schol-
arly explanation and recognition. On the other hand, sensational
and insufficiently founded conclusions must be decisively re-
jected. 36
To him the principal means of discerning the incorrectness of the the-
oretical positions is through their incompatibility with the tenets of
Marxism-Leninism. Thus while showing some respect for the empi-
rical approach, Bolkhovitinov takes up a clear, fundamental meth-
odological position.
From the other side A. P. Mendel believes that he has detected
some movement on the part of Soviet historians away from such con-
strictions, writing:
Present achievements are providing realistic grounds for the hope
and expectation that the first Russian Marxists could derive only
from Marxist historical mythology. With tangible scientific and
economic success winning allegiance for the regime from those
who matter politically, the authorities may feel secure enough to
lessen their dependence on Marxist eschatology. Consequently, if
this is correct, the historian can begin to withdraw from service on
the 'historical front' and to return, at least partly, to his tradi-
tional pursuit of historical truth. 37
Elsewhere Mendel develops his own ideas concerning the 'traditional
pursuit of historical truth', arguing that it can make a significant
contribution to the raising of the quality of life in the post-industrial
age. He argues that:
It is long past time we junked the curriculum of economic man
and got back to the 'liberal arts', the free arts, the arts of free
men .... The essential concern of our schools should be to provide
for our children the sensitivities and proclivities that will enable
them to live lives of creative leisure, to find deep gratification - as
their parents cannot - in great art, thought, literature and music, in
'listening to the essence of things', feeling themselves in accord
with the natural world (not regarding it as an enemy to be con-
quered and dissected), in living the kind of life that gave meaning
and richness to the earlier aristocracies. 38
In other words, history should concentrate on improving the flavour
of life rather than contributing in any useful manner to its scientific
explanation. While not agreeing in general with Mendel, many of his
colleagues would shy away from 'scientific explanation'. 39
The argument could be put forward that if Mendel is correct in his
view that 'scientific socialism' is in retreat even in the Soviet Union,
this is a clear indication that the Soviet Union has lost its revol-
utionary dynamic to an extent that it can no longer be looked upon as
a progressive society.40 Certainly, as already mentioned above, few if
any of the New Left group of American historians appear to look
upon the Soviet Union as capable of providing any guidance as to the
direction that the United States should take. Among their persistent
themes has been the call for a return to the ideals of 1776. For their
part many Soviet dissidents appear to have moved away from earlier
infatuation with the ideals of contemporary American society to
concentrate on a reasoned expose of the evils of Stalinism, while
looking for a solution to Soviet problems in a return to 'pure' Lenin-
ism or even in a re-examination of the beliefs of pre-revolutionary
Slavophiles or Westerners. In other words, the American dream has
turned as sour for many Soviet dissidents as has the Soviet dream for
American liberals.
This tendency itself marks a kind of convergence, but a negative
kind in that both dissatisfied groups are essentially looking back,
hoping for the restoration of a world lost rather than a world to be
won. But a more positive kind of historiographical convergence is
possible and may already be in process. This needs to be seen within
the framework of convergence theory in general. A. G. Meyer has
written that there are basically three theories of convergence, firstly:
... one that posits the development of both Soviet and American
societies within the framework of democratic socialism, a model
similar to the Swedish system. The basic assumption here is that a
pluralistic society will be able to govern itself only with the help of
a democratic, participatory, pluralistic political system based on a
civic culture of mutual toleration. A second theory of convergence
regards the same social pluralism as the basis for a political order
modeled rather on the modern corporation or perhaps on the com-
pany town - an order stressing hierarchy, coordination, structured
communications, rational elite recruitment, and the like. Hence
this is convergence on a bureaucratized polity. Finally, we have an
apocalyptic theory of convergence in a new fascist-like totalita-
rianism engendered by the psychological cost of modernization
and the resulting crisis style of political rule. The model here would
be the Third Reich. Some would add a fourth theory forecasting
the end of both the Soviet Union and the United States in their
present forms in a revolution, followed by the thorough restruc-

turing of both polities according to anarcho-syndicalist or socialist
ideals. I have not considered this last possibility because it is not,
strictly speaking, a theory of convergence, and it is in my view the
least likely of all the possible alternatives.
In any application of these theories of convergence Meyer warns of

the dangers of teleology, ethnocentrism and determinism - precon-
ceived direction, national self-preoccupation and absence of free
will. He also points to various counter-theories or at least limitations
- 'residual differences' and national culture. He asserts that:
Given the primitive state of social science, a choice between these

various theories and counter-theories can be made only on ideo-
logical, moral, or political grounds. To become convinced that
convergence is or is not likely, the scholar must make a political
choice between essential and incidental elements of the social
system. That choice is sUbjective.4 !
Is historiography in an equally primitive state?42 Do historians

also realise that their choice is subjective when they talk of historical
trends? What, in particular, is their attitude to the question of con-
vergence? At least one practitioner of the craft, J. H. Plumb, appears
to have little doubt that
Ancient patterns of living are crumbling before the demands of in-

dustrial society ... life in the suburbs of London, Lagos, Jakarta,
Rio de Janeiro and Vladivostok will soon have more in common
than they have in difference. 43
In his book The Death of the Past, as we have noted above, Plumb
welcomes the demise of national history, to him false history, and the
dawn of universal, true history.
Possibly nationalistic history has declined in the West since, after a
period of readjustment, a wider framework than that of one nation is
being accepted by practitioners of the craft. 44 If so, the enormous
problems of data collection and processing will have to be carried out
in a manner more defined, even more scientific, than in the phrase
'the traditional pursuit of historical truth', to quote A. P. Mendel
again. As far as America and Soviet historiography is concerned, the
same process might already be under way. By indicating the past de-
velopment of what Meyer calls 'residual differences' and national
culture in the cases of the USA and the USSR, historians are not only
breaking down the national framework and moving towards 'the
death of the past', towards universal history, but also contributing to
the discussion of convergence theory by their social science col-
leagues. Genuine universal history may take some time to come, but
any move towards it helps to avert the worst kind of convergence dis-
cussed by Meyer, the fascist totalitarian. And in this particular case,
the comparative history of the USA and the USSR might contribute
in some small degree to a truer, less nationalistic application of the
ideals of both American and Russian Revolutions: individual free-
dom and social justice. But in early 1978 the future looks less rosy
than black; a totalitarianism more crippling than that conceivable
when the word was first coined about thirty years ago looms all too
large on the horizon of many different analysts with widely varied
world views. The major reason for this is the world's continued divi-
sion into great camps where domestic virtues and alien vices are pro-
claimed in as strident a manner as the available communications
media will allow. The Western world loudly proclaims 'democracy'
and respect for 'human rights' as its major positive characteristics,
underplaying or even completely ignoring its own limited implemen-
tation (and more than occasional violation) of such concepts. It visits
upon its rivals, especially on the Soviet Union, a thorough-going
antipathy and continuous militant opposition towards popular
political participation and freedom, saying little or nothing about the
advancement of such worthy causes where it may be found on the
part of its opponents. The truth of the matter, which is elusive, does
not necessarily lie in the middle; it is certainly not to be found in the
Manichaean world view which has been too evident in all camps
during the cold war. Amid much talk of the arrival of 1984 some
years before its time, we should perhaps recall that in George
Orwell's novel, an essential policy of the totalitarian state is the
continued artificial stimulation of rivalry between Oceania, Eura-
sia and Eastasia. 45
A contemporary Western variation of this theme, expressed in a
manner ranging from a politician's caricature to a scholarly in-
terpretation, is the equation of the Soviet Union with Nazi
Germany under the 'totalitarian' heading. Yet an increasing number
of scholars have put forward arguments along the same lines as V. R.
Berghann, who believes that 'to subsume Communism and Fascism
under one and the same term is a heuristic blind alley'.46 To varying
degrees, many would concur with the reservation ofD. Schoenbaum:
Can we assume a meaningful identity with a conspiratorial

group of highly intellectual, professional revolutionaries and a
heterogeneous collection of provincial cranks; between an
underdeveloped country with a vast rural population in the

throes of industrialisation and a well developed industrial society
in the midst of a worldwide economic crisis?47
Certainly, as set out in chapter 3 above, there is a considerable basis

for the fairly close comparison between the imperial predecessors of
the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany. Moreover, we have seen in
chapter 5 above that Lenin and his associates looked chiefly to Ger-
many for a development of the revolutionary drive initiated in
Russia. Yet the Bolsheviks clearly recognised the more fully fledged
nature of the German proletariat and the more mature level of
Germany's modernisation. In the 1930s, such differences were if any-
thing more pronounced. And so, while the basis for comparison
remains in such features as the degree of state control and bureaucra-
tic procedure, the case for an identification of the Soviet Union and
Nazi Germany is more difficult to place on a firm foundation. 48
On the other hand, there are few analysts in both Western and
Third Worlds who would want to defend the Soviet Union of today
as the fulfilment of the Bolshevik aspirations of October 1917. Left-
wing Western opponents of the USSR attack it for its conservatism
while errant Eurocommunist friends are prepared to compromise
with the once reviled social democrats. Explaining such behaviour,
one of the latter declares:
We are fully aware of the fact that our conception of the relation
between democracy and socialism does not correspond with that
elaborated by Lenin. But this conception has been developed, not
by abandoning Lenin's method, but by taking stock of profoundly
different historical conditions which Lenin himself could never
have predicted.49
The first group argues for the overthrow of the Soviet government,
the second still hopes for its reform. For their part, Soviet apologists
denounce Trotskyism and other 'infantile' left-wing deviations,
while chiding Communists in France, Italy and elsewhere for their
unnecessary and possibly dangerous revisionism. And some Third
World ideologues have been able to see in October a model for their
own pattern of development, one of them writing:
If Uganda is serious about developing as an African country, then

we must adopt socialism .... When African countries became
independent all their institutions were colonial creations, thus the
cultural values of the country were not African and the economic
systems were capitalistic .... The 1917 revolution came at the time
when USSR was in a similar state to that of the African states at
the time of independence. The Russians demonstrated an alter-
native to a liberal capitalist society. Liberal democracy was no
longer to be copied by everyone ....50
But such a path has not been followed by Uganda, and even where
African socialism has made some progress, it has not attempted to
repeat the route taken by the Soviet Union. As for the Chinese, while
still revering Lenin and even Stalin, they attack the USSR bitterly for
its 'social imperialism'. Meanwhile, in the USSR itself, there is no
shortage of dissidents asserting that the ideals of October have not
been realised, or even in some cases wanting to reject the whole tra-
dition that stems from 1917.
But in conclusion let us revert to the principal argument of this
book, which has been for the insertion of the Russian Revolution in
its appropriate global, historical context. At least as much as its great
predecessors, it had universal aspirations and therefore belongs not
to anyone locale but to the whole world. Like them, it aroused in
human beings the desire to struggle for the overthrow of an old,
unjust society and the institution of a new society that would be just.
Wise statesmen perceived this powerful force, sharing the view of
Richelieu, who saw, in the early seventeenth century, that 'for him
who knows how to use it there is no lever in the world like that of a
rising cause, for a rising cause embodies the growing dissatisfaction
of men with a long-established evil which they have learned to detest,
but which they have not yet learned to overthrow.'51 If the Russian
Revolution failed to live up to the expectations of most of its sup-
porters, this feature too puts it in the same general category as the
English, American and French Revolutions. In the world today there
is again 'a rising cause', an overwhelming necessity for a new revol-
ution incorporating the best of the spirit of 1649, 1776, 1789 and
1917, as well as addressing itself primarily to the 'long-established
evil' with which we are all too familiar. This is not a call to the barri-
cades, for any major domestic disturbance is likely to upset the deli-
cate international balance; the argument is rather for a revision of
our historical consciousness which will help to avert conflict and pro-
mote progress. If that sounds like Utopia, 'the world has now
become too dangerous for anything less. '52
Noles and References
Part One Russia and Modem Revolutions

I. At the First World Congress on Soviet and East European Studies,
Banff 1974, a panel on this subject did not meet because none of the panel-
lists was able to put in an appearance.
2. See chapter I, notes 1 and48.
3. J. V.PolisenskY, War and Society in Europe, 1618-1648 (Cambridge,
1978)p.11.
4. See chapter 2, notes 1-3. Among the Western specialists who do believe
in the inclusion of Russia in discussion about the international impact of the
French Revolution is Max Okenfuss 'who is personally convinced that both
before and after 1789 more Russians knew about and sympathized with
European political writings and French revolutionary movements than is
generally realized'. See Krifika, vol. 10(1973-4)46.
5. See chapter 3, note I.
1. The General Crisis o/the Seventeenth Century
I. Trevor Aston (ed.), Crisis in Europe, 1550-1660 (London, 1965) p.3.

And see note48 below.
2. John Milton, A Brief History of Moscovia (London, 1682) from The
Works ofJohn Mitton, vol. 10 (New York, 1932)327-8.
3. The precedent was Paulus Jovius, or Paolo Giovio (1483-1552), his-
torian and geographer.
4. J .Q.Cook, 'The Image of Russia in Western European Thought in the
Seventeenth Century', from Dissertation Abstracts, 20 (Ann Arbor, 1959)
2247. For a general description and illustration ofthis process, see Anthony
Cross (ed.), Russia under Western Eyes, 1517-1825 (London, 1971).
5. Ph. Cluver, lntroductionis in universam geographiam .... (Lugduni
Batavorum, 1629) p.47.
6. Pierre Chaunu, 'Refiexions sur Ie tournant des annees 1630-1650',
from Cahiers d' histoire moderne et contemporaine, 12 (1967).
7. Ibid., p.262.
8. For a penetrating analysis of the significance of this infiltration, see
NOTES AND REFERENCES 191
M. Mancall, Russia and China: Their Diplomatic Relations to /728 (Cam-
bridge, Mass., 1971).
9. Ph. Briet, Parallelageographiae veteris et novae, I (Paris, 1648) 161.
10. S.R.Gardiner (ed.), Letters Relating to the Mission of Sir Thomas Roe
to Gustavus Adolphus, /629-1630 (London, 1875) p.2.
11. See, for example, D.Eeckaute, 'Le commerce russe au milieu du
XVIIe siecle d'apres la correspondance du charge d'affaires suedois Rodes',
Revue historique, 233 (1965) 323-38; L. V. Cherepnin, 'Russian 17th-Century
Baltic Trade in Soviet Historiography', Slavonic Review, 43 (1964-5) 1-22;
M. Grokh, 'K voprosu ob ekonomicheskikh otnosheniiakh stran vostochnoi
i zapadnoi Evropy v period trinadtsatiletnoi voiny', Srednie veka, 24
(Moscow, 1963)225-39.
12. R.O.Crummey, The Old Believers and the World of Antichrist; The
Vyg Community and the Russian State, 1694-1855 (Madison, Wisc. and
London, 1970) p.lO.
13. P.Pascal, Avvakum et les debuts du raskol (Paris, 1938) pp.xx-xxv;
C.B.H.Cant, 'The Archpriest Avvakum and His Scottish Contemporaries',
Slavonic and East European Review, 44 (1965-6) 381-402.
14. See, for example, L.R.Lewitter, 'Poland, the Ukraine and Russia in
the 17th Century', Slavonic and East European Review, 27 (1948-9) 157-71
and 414-29; N.A.Baklanova, 'Kul'tura i byt vo vtoroi polovine XVIIv', in
B.A.Rybakov et al. (eds), Istoriia SSSR, 3 (Moscow, 1967) 160-9;
S.F.Platonov, Moscow and the West (translated and edited by Joseph
L. Wieczynski with an introduction by Serge A.Zenkovsky) (Hattiesburg,
W. Va., 1972) pp. 97-141.
IS. Henry Brereton, Newes of the Present Miseries of Russia . ...
(London,1614)p.37.
16. A. V.Borodin, Inozemtsy- ratnye liudi na sluzhbe v moskovskom gosu-
darstve (Petrograd, 1916) p. 7.
17. A.F.Steuart, Scottish Influences in Russian History (Glasgow, 1913)
p.32.
18. Borodin,!nozemtsy, pp.8-9.
19. A. V.Chernov, Vooruzhennye si/y russkogo gosudarstva v XV-XVlIvv,
s obrazovaniia tsentralizovannogo gosudarstva do reform pri Petre I (Moscow,
1954) pp.152-5. The manual was Uchenie i khitros!' ratnogo stroeniia pek-
hotnykh liudei, a translation of Kriegskunst zu Fuss . .. by Johann Jacobi von
Wallhausen (Oppenheim, 1615).
20. For the most scholarly yet broad treatment of this subject, see
Richarrd Hellie, Enserfment and Military Change in Muscovy (Chicago and
London, 1971). See also the valuable article by Thomas Esper, 'M ilitary Self-
Sufficiency and Weapons Technology in Muscovite Russia', Slavic Review,
28 (1969). On pp.204-5 Esper writes:
'The decision to reorganize and restructure the Russian army along modern
lines was made in the early 1630s, although no significant changes occurred
until the second half of the century .... By the early 1660s ... seventy-nine
per cent of the army (about 77,000 men) was composed of what were called
"foreign" units - cavalry, dragoons, hussars, infantry. This was the core of
the new army, trained and to some extent officered by foreign mercenaries.'
192 NOTES AND REFERENCES
21. See, for example, B.F.Porshnev, 'Les rapports politiques de l'Europe

occidentale et de l'Europe orientale it I'epoque de la guerre de trente ans', in
Xle Congres international des sciences historiques. rapports IV. histoire
moderne (Goteborg-Stockholm-Uppsala, 1960) 136-63. Some of
Porshnev's views are more fully presented in his books Frantsiia. A ngliiskaia
revolitsiia i evropeiskaia politika v seredine XVllv (Moskva, 1970) and Trin-
adtsatiletniaia voina i vstuplenie v nee Shvetsii i Moskovskogo gosudarstva
(Moscow, 1976). A commentary on his views, based mostly on the first of
those books, now follows.
22. This is the principal theme of Porshnev's Trinadtsatiletniaia voina.
And see note 18 above.
23. Porshnev, Frantsiia pp. 70-4.
24. Ibid., p.337.
25. E. N. Williams, The Ancien Regime in Europe: Government and Society
in the Major States. 1648-1789 (London, 1970) p.17.
26. See Michael Roberts, 'The Military Revolution, 1560-1660', in
Essays in Swedish History (London, 1967); Hellie, Enserfment, pp. 254-8.
27. See, for example, S.H.Baron, 'The Weber Thesis and the failure of
capitalist development in "early modern" Russia', Jahrbucher fur Ges-
chichte Osteuropas 18 (1970) 321-36. At the same time, it is as well to keep in
mind the argument of N. Steensgard that the part played by the state in the
economy has been a generally neglected subject for research on seven-
teenth-century Europe. See his 'The Economic and Political Crisis of the
Seventeenth Century' in Xllie Congres international des sciences historiques
(Moscow, 1970).
28. On the Russian social system in this context, see in particular John
Keep, 'The Muscovite Elite and the Approach to Pluralism', in Slavonic and
East European Review 48 (1970). For suggested parallels with Spain and
France, see respectively A.N.Chistozvonov, 'Nekotorye aspekty problemy
genezisa absoliutizma', in Voprosy istorii 5 (1968); S.M.Troitskii, 'Le
systeme deJohn Law et ses continuateurs russes', in F.Braudel et al. (eds) La
Russieet ['Europe. XVle-XXe siec/es (Paris-Moscow. 1970) p.32.
29. See, for example, P. N. Miliukov, Gosudarstvennoe khoziastvo Rossii v
pervoi chetverti XVIII stoletiia i reforma Petra Velikogo (St Petersburg,
1905).pp.53-4.
30. Karl Pommerening, 'Donoseniia koroleve Khristine i pis'ma k koro-
levskomu sekretariu shevdskogo rezidenta v Moskve Karla Pommereninga'
in Chteniia v obshchestve istorii i drevnostei rossisskikh pri M oskovskom uni-
versitete, kn. I (1898) pp. 417-21; S.V.Bakhrushin, 'Moskovskii miatezh
1648g', in Nauchnye trudy, 2 (Moscow, 1954) 50-2.
31. For agood general survey, see M.N.Tikhomirov, Sobornoe ulozhenie
1649g(Moscow, 1961)pp.5-26.
32. Quoted by Bakhrushin, in Nauchnye trudy, 2, 53.
33. Ibid., 59.
34. Ibid., 59.
35. Samuel Collins, The Present State ofRussia (London, 1671) pp.1 04-5.
36. Bakhrushin, Nauchnye trudy, 2, 78.
37. Tikhomirov, Sobornoe ulozhenie, pp. 9-15.
38. Bakhrushin, Nauchnye trudy, 2, 80-1.
39. Ibid.,81-91.
40. Tikhomirov, Sobornoe ulozhenie, pp. 22-61. For accounts in English,
see J. L. H. Keep, 'The Decline of the Zemsky Sobor', Slavonic and East Euro-
pean Review, 36 (\957-8); Hellie, Enserfment, passim, particularly pp.
134-40. And see above, pp. 11-12.
41. M.P.Alekseev, 'Angliia i anglichane v pamiatnikakh pis'mennosti
XVI-XVlIvv', Uchennye zapiski Leningradskogo Gosudarstvennogo Univer-
siteta, seriia istoricheskikh nauk, vyp. 15 (\ 948) pp. 84- \09; Z.1. Roginskii,
Poezdka gontsa Gerasima Semenovicha Dokhturova v Angliiu 164511646gg:
lz istorii anglo-russkikh otnoshenii v period angliiskoi revoliutsii XVI/ veka
(Iaroslavl, 1960); J.J.Lubimenko, 'Anglo-Russian Relations during the
English Revolution' in Transactions of the Royal Historical SOCiety, 4th ser.,
II (London, 1928).
42. K.l.Iakubov, Rossiia i Shvetsiia v pervoi polovine XVI/ veka (Moscow,
1898) p. 470. For events in Turkey, see A.N.Kurat, 'The Ottoman Empire
under Mehmed IV', The New Cambridge Modern History, vol5 (Cambridge,
1964) pp. 504-5.
43. Steuart, Scottish Influences, pp. 35-6.
44. Z.I.Roginskii, 'Missiia lorda Kolpepera v Moskvu (lz istorii anglo-
russkikh otnoshenii v period angliiskoi revoliutsii XVlIv)" L. G. Beskrovnyi
et al. (eds) Mezhdunarodnye sviazi Rossii v X VI/-X VI/Ivv, (ekonomika, politi-
ka, kut'tura) (Moscow, 1966) pp. 906--\02; L.Loewenson, 'Did Russia inter-
vene after the execution of Charles IT in Bulletin of the Institute of Historical
Research, 18 (1940) 13-20.
45. A Collection of the State Papers of John Thurloe Esq., III (London,
1742) p.50; A.S. Kan, 'Svedeniia russkikh ob angliiskoi revoliutsii', lzvestiia
akademii nauk SSSR, seriia istorii ifilosofii, vol. 6 (1949) 464-5.
46. The phrase is from Samuel Hartlib and quoted by Christopher Hill in
his article The English Revolution and the Brotherhood of Man', reprinted
in Puritanism and Revolution (London, 1968) p. 127.
47. See S.D.Skazkin, 'Osnovnye problemy tak nazyvaemogo "vtorogo
izdaniia krepostnichestva" i srednei i vostochnei Evropy' in Voprosy istorii,
No.2 (1958). For a useful collection of documents, see R.E.F.Smith, The
Enserfment ofthe Russian Peasantry (Cambridge, 1968).
48. Among the relevant articles which have appeared in Past and Present
since the publication of Trevor Aston (ed.) Crisis in Europe are: H.Kamen,
'The economic and social consequences of the Thirty Years War', 39 (1968);
J. V.PoMenskY, 'The Thirty Years War and the Crises and Revolutions of
Seventeenth-Century Europe', 39 (\968); J.H.Elliott, 'Revolution and Con-
tinuity in Early Modern Europe', 42 (1969); and M.O.Gately, A.L.Moore
and J. E. Wills, 'Seventeenth-Century peasant "Furies"; Some Problems of
Contemporary History', 51 (\971). The last of these articles is a critique of
Roland Mousnier's Peasant Uprisings in Seventeenth-Century France, Russia
and China, trans. Brian Pearce (London, 1972).
49. For an interesting discussion ofthis point, see T.K.Rabb, The Strug-
gle for Stability in Early Modern Europe, (New York, 1975).
50. C. Hi11, The Century ofRevolution, 1603-1714 (London, 1969) p. 165.
51. Paul Avrich, Russian Rebels, 1600-1800 (London, 1972) p.115;

G.A.Sanin and I.S.Sharkova in L.V.Cherepnin et al. (eds), Krest'ianskie
voiny v Rossii XVII-XVIIIvekov: problemy,poiski, resheniia (Moscow, 1974)
pp. 369, 377-9; B.G.Kurts, Russko-kitaiskie snosheniia v XVI, XVII i XVIII
stoletiiakh (Khar'kov, 1929) p.136.
2. The Democratic Revolution o/the Eighteenth Century

1. J.Godechot, R.R.Palmer, 'Le probleme de l'Atiantique du XVIIIeme
au XXeme siecle', Relazioni del X Congresso Internazionale di Scienze Sto-
riche vol. 5 (Firenze, 1955) pp.175-239, particularly pp.219-33.
2. For Godechot's later views, see his France and the Atlantic Revolution
of the Eighteenth Century, 1770-1779 (New York and London, 1965).
3. R.R.Palmer, The Age ofthe Democratic Revolution: A Political History
of Europe and America, 1760-1800: The Struggle (Princeton and London,
1964) p. 140. For Palmer's later assessment of his own work, see his
contribution to L. Perry Curtis (ed.), The Historian's Workshop (New York,
1970).
4. Russian title- Trudy vol'nogo ekonomicheskogo obshchestva k pooshch-
reniiu v Rossii zemledeiia i domostroitel'stva, I (St Petersburg, 1765) i, iii, vi,
ix-x.
5. E. V. Tarle, 'Byla Ii ekaterininskaia Rossiia ekonomicheskoi otstaloi
stranoiu?', Sovremennyi mir v (St Petersburg, 1910).
6. Tarle, Sovremennyi mir, v, 7.
7. A.Burja, Observations d'un voyageur sur la Russie, la Finlande, la
Livonie,la Curlandeet la Prusse (Berlin, 1785) p. 214.
8. Burja, Observations, p.49; Tarle, Sovremennyi mirv, 8.
9. See, for example, B.B.Kafengauz, Ocherki vnutrennego rynka Rossii
pervoi poloviny XVIII veka (Moskva, 1958); M.Ia. Volkov, 'Otmena vnu-
trennykh tamozhen', Istoriia SSSR, No.2 (1957).
10. See, for example, L.G.Beskrovnyi et al. (eds), Istoriia SSSR, voU
(Moscow, 1967) p.440.
11. F. Crouzet, 'Angleterre et France au XVIIIe siecle: Essai d'analyse
comparee de deux croissances economiques', Annales: economies, societes,
civilisations, No.2 (1966) 271.
12. N. G. LeClerc, Histoire physique, morale, et politique de la Russie
ancienne et moderne 6 vols (Paris, 1783-94) quoted by Tarle, Sovremennyi mir
v,l1.
'13. Tarle, Sovremennyi mir v, 13-5, points out that in 1785, a compara-
tively good year for France, she exported to Russia goods to the value of
5,485,675Iivres while importing from Russia goods worth 6,412,339 livres.
He goes on to give more comparative figures on p.17. J.L.Van Regemorter,
'Commerce et politi que: Preparation et negociation du traite franco-russe de
1787', in Cahiers du monde russe et sovihique No.3 (1963) draws somewhat
different conclusions from Tarle on the balance oftrade between France and
Russia.
14. Tarle, Sovremennyi mir v, 17-8; P.W.Bamford, Forests and French
Sea Power. 1660-1 789 (Toronto, 1956)p. 211.
15. R.G.Albion, Forests and Sea Power: The Timber Problem of the Royal
Navy. 1562-1682 Harvard Economic Studies, XXIX (Cambridge. Mass.,
1926)p.x.
16. Hansard's Parliamentary History of England XVII (London, 1813)
1142.
17. John Marshall, A digest of all the accounts . .. of the United Kingdom
of Great Britain and Ireland. etc. (London, 1833) pp.71-5. E. B.Schumpeter,
English overseas trade statistics. 1697-1808 (Oxford, 1960) p. 18, gives a
slightly different picture. For the Scottish connection in particular, see
David S. Macmillan, 'The Scottish-Russian Trade: Its Development, Fluc-
tuations and Difficulties, 1750-1796', in Canadian-American Slavic Studies
vol.4 (1970).
18. Beskrovnyi et al. (eds), Istoriia SSSR 3,422. See also Preceptor K.-G.
Hildebrand, 'Foreign markets for Swedish iron in the 18th century' in Scan-
dinavian Economic History Review 6 (1958) 9-10.
19. Hansard. XVII, 1137. For the importance of Russian exports wider
afield, see Alfred W.Crosby, Jr, America. Russia. Hemp and Napoleon:
American Trade with Russia and the Baltic 1783-1812 (Columbus, Ohio,
1965).
20. See, for example, V.I.Shunkov et al. (eds), Perekhod ot feodalizma k
kapitalizmu v Rossii (Moskva, 1969); Samuel H. Baron, 'The Transition from
Feudalism to Capitalism in Russia: A major Soviet historical controversy',
A merican Historical Review 77 (1972).
21. H.F.Von Storch, Historisch-statistisches Gemalde des russischen
Reichs am Ende des Achzehnten lahrhunderts 6 vols (Riga, Leipzig,
1797-1802) quoted by Tarle, Sovremennyi mirv, 9.
22. Tarle, Sovremennyi mir v, 22-7. Tarle maintains, for example, that
while a French factory at the end of the eighteenth century would be con-
sidered large if it employed 100-200 workers and a rare exception if 300-400
and more, the corresponding figures for a Russian factory would be higher.
23. Roger Portal, 'The Industrialization of Russia', The Cambridge Econ-
omic History ofEurope, 6 (Cam bridge, 1966) 802.
24. Trudy vol'nogo ekonomicheskogo obshchestva, VI (1770) 59-68.
25. Iu.P.Klokman, Sotsial'no-ekonomicheskaia istoriia russkogo goroda:
vtoraia polovina XVIII veka (Moscow, 1967) pp. 316-7, puts the percentage
of Russian town-dwellers at the end of the eighteenth century at 4.1 per cent
of the poll-taxpaying population, but he also says that other Soviet his-
torians, using unpublished figures, have suggested a figure of 7.5 per cent
and even 8.3 per cent. These variations largely result from the fact that
government statistics referred to official town dwellers, while many people
living in towns seasonally or permanently were officially registered as rural
inhabitants. On pp. 321-2 of his book, Klokman maintains that towns
throughout Europe shared the political powerlessness of Russian towns, at
least up to the French Revolution. Russia's population as a whole, according
to V.M.Kabuzan, rose from 22,236,000 in 1762 to 37,414,000 in 1795. See his
Narodonaselenie Rossii v XVIII-pervoi polo vine XIXv (po materia/am revizii)
(Moscow, 1963)pp. 164-5.
26. C.B.A.Behrens, The Ancien Regime (London, 1967) pp. 34, 38, 176.
Behrens makes some interesting comparisons between the French and
Russian peasants.
27. See, for example, the remarks made on the French economy by F.
Crouzet, Annales, No.2 (1966) 273-5.
28. V. N. Bochkarev, Voprosy politiki v russkom parlamente XVlllogo
veka: Opyt izucheniia politicheskoi ideologii XVlllogo veka po materialam
zakonodatel'noi komissii 1767-1768 (Tver, 1923) p.28.
29. Isabel de Madariaga, Britain, Russia, and the Armed Neutrality of
1780 (London, 1962); N.N.Bolkhovitinov, Stanovlenie russko-
amerikanskikhotnoshenii, 1775-/815 (Moscow, 1966) pp.50-90.
30. See, for example, A.Lobanov-Rostovsky, Russia and Europe.
1789-1825 (Durham, North Carolina, 1947); K.E.Dzhedzhula, Rossiia i
Velikaia Frantsuzskaia Burzhuaznaia Revoliutsiia kontsa XVIII veka (Kiev,
1972)pp.330-430.
31. P.P.Epifanov,' "Uchennaia druzhina" i prosvetitel'stvo XVIII veka',
Voprosy istorii No.3 (1963) 53.
32. From a lecture by Professor C.R.Boxer at the 1967 Anglo-American
Conference of Historians in London. I am grateful to Professor Boxer for
confirming and enlarging upon this information by letter. For other cultural
contacts between the two extremities of Europe in the early eighteenth cen-
tury, see C.R.Boxer, 'An enlightened Portuguese: Antonio Ribeiro
Sanches', History Today (April, 1970).
33. L.G.Beskrovnyi, B.B.Kafengauz (eds), Khrestomatiia po istorii
SSSR: XVlllv(Moscow, 1963) pp. 585-6; P.N.Miliukov, Ocherki po istorii
russkoi kul'tury, vol.3 (Paris, 1937) p.396.
34. The number of books published in Great Britain in the eighteenth cen-
tury is incalculable.
35. Marc Raeff, Origins of the Russian Intelligentsia: The Eight-
eenth-Century Nobility (New York, 1966): M.M.Shtrange, Demokratiches-
kaia intelligentsiia Rossii v XVIII veke (Moscow, 1965).
36. D. S. Von Mohrenschildt, Russia in the Intellectual Life of Eight-
eenth-Century France (New York, 1936); E.Haumant, La culture franc;aise
en Russie (Paris, 1910).
37. See, for example, Gote Carlid and Johann Nordstrom (eds), Torbern
Bergman's Foreign Correspondence vol. I (Uppsala, 1965) pp. 284, 320, 322,
323; N.N.Bolkhovitinov, 'Beginnings of the Establishment of Scientific
and Cultural Relations between America and Russia', Soviet Studies in His-
tory 5 (1966) 48-59; L. W.Labaree et al. (eds), The Papers of Benjamin
Franklin (New Haven, 1959 - ) vol. 10 p.299; vol. 12, p.194. This last refer-
ence indicates direct contact between Franklin and his Russian contem-
porary, Lomonosov.
38. K. A. Papmehl, Freedom of Expression in Russia: The History of the
Idea and Its Practical Application (The Hague, 1971); A.M.Skabichevskii,
Ocherki istorii russkoi tsenzury, 1700-1863g (St Petersburg, 1892)
pp.33-40.
39. Gunning to Suffolk, State Papers 91, vo1.95, p.146; vol. 96, p,43;
vo1.97, pp.38, 42.
40. A.T.Bolotov, Zapiski, from Beskrovnyi and Kafengauz, Khrestoma-
tiia, pp. 412-3.
41. See, for example, the contributions of A.L.Shapiro and
A.P.Pronshtein to Soviet Studies in History vols. 5 and 6 respectively; and
J.T.Alexander, Emperor of the Cossacks: Pugachev and the Frontier Jac-
querie (Lawrence, Kansas,- 1973). Roger Portal talks of 'Pugachev: une
revolution manquee', Etudes d'histoire moderne et contemporaine, I (Paris,
1947).
42. A.N.Filippov, 'Moskva i Pugachev v iiulei avguste 1774 god a', Trudy
obshchestva izucheniia Kazakhstana 6 (Orenburg, 1925) 16-7.
43. Ibid., 22-4.
44. S.A.Golubtsov, 'Moskovskaia provintsial'naia vlast i dvorianstvo v
ozhidanii Pugacheva', Staraia Moskva, no. 1 (Moscow, 1929) 8.
45. All ofthis paragraph from ibid., 9-10.
46. D.I.Malinin, 'Otgoloski Pugachevshchiny v Meshchovskom uezde:
(po sekretnym delam Meshchovskoi voevodskoi kantseliarii)" Izvestiia
kaluzhskoi uchenoi arkhivnoi komissii, XXI (Kaluga, 1911) 9-29.
47. All these quotations from D.I.Malinin, Otgoloski Pugachevshchiny v
Kaluzhskom krae (Kaluga, 1930) pp. 4-6.
48. A. T. Bolotov, in Beskrovnyi and Kafengauz, Khrestomatiia, p.413.
49. All of this paragraph from M.D.Kurmacheva, 'Otkliki krest'ianskoi
voiny 1773-1775 gg v tsentral'nykh guberniiakh Rossii', Voprosyagrarnoi
istorii tsentra i severo-zapada RSFSR: materialy mezhvuzskoi nauchnoi konfe-
rentsii (Smolensk, 1972) pp.24-5.
50. Ibid.,pp.13-7.
51. Golubtsov, Staraia Moskva no. I, pp. 14,26-8,31.
52. Ibid., pp. 38-41; Filippov, TrudyvI,lO-ll.
53. V. V. Mavrodin, 'Osnovnye problemy krest'ianskoi voiny v Rossii
1773-1775 godoy', Voprosy islorii no. 8, (1964) 62. See also Shapiro and
Pronshtein, note 41 above.
54. Alexander, Emperor ofthe Cossacks, pp. 206-11. See also Leo Yaresh,
'The "Peasant Wars" in Soviet Historiography' Slavic Review vol. 16 (1957);
and, for a different interpretation of the Cossack theme, Philip Longworth,
'The Last Great Cossack Rising', Journal ofEuropean Studies vol. 3 (1970).
55. Kurmacheva, Voprosy p. Ill.
56. R. R. Palmer in a letter to the author, 20 April 1970.
57. M. D. Kurmacheva, 'Ob uchastii krepostnoi intelligentsii v
Krest'ianskoi Voine 1773-1775 gg', in L. V. Cherepnin et al. (eds),
Krest'ianskie voiny v Rossii XVII-XVIII vekov: Problemy, poiski, resheniia
(Moskva, 1974)pp. 307, 310.
58. R. V. Ovchinnikov (ed.), 'Sledstvie i sud nad E. I. Pugachevym',
Vopros istorii4 (1966) 123.
59. Beskrovnyi and Kafengauz, Khrestomatiia p. 394
60. J. T. Alexander, 'Recent Soviet Historiography on the Pugachev
Revolt: A Review Article', Canadian-American Slavic Studies vol. 4 (1970);
John T. Alexander, 'Western Views of the Pugachov Rebellion', Slavonic
and East European Review vol. 48 (1970); O. E. Kornilovich, 'Obshchest-
vennoe mnenie Zapadnoi Evropy 0 Pugachevskom bunte', Annaly vol. 3 (St
Petersburg, 1923); A. I. Andrushchenko, 'Pugachevskoe vosstanie i

Kiuchuk-Kainardzhiiskii mir', Voprosy voennoi istorii Rossii XVIII i pervaia
polovina XIX vekov(Moscow, 1969).
61. Sbornik imperatorskogo russkogo istoricheskogo obshchestva XXXVI,
26--9.
62. V. N. Bochkarev, 'Russkoe obshchestvo ekaterininskoi epokhi i
frantsuzskaia revoliutsiia', Otechestvnennaia voina i russkoe obshchestvo I
(Moscow, 1911) 59.
63. An important source here is K. E. Dzhedzhula, Rossiia (full title in
note 30). In many ways an imperfect work, it nevertheless contains much
useful information and some stimulating hypotheses. See the review by Max
Okenfuss in Kritika vol. 10 (1973-4).
64. E. Dumont, 'Dnevnik',Golosminuvsheg02(l913) 153.
65. Count Segur, Memories and Recollections III (London, 1827) 420.
66. Sbornik IRIOxXIII, 481, 495, 593.
67. Russkii arkhiv I (1878) 294.
68. Arkhiv VorontsovaxII(Moscow, 1877) 117.
69. See Dzhedzhula, Rossiia p. 151, for early reaction in the provinces.
70. Sbornik IRIO XVI, 431-2.
71. Dzhedzhula, Rossiia pp. 158-9.
72. S. N. Glinka, Zapiski(St Petersburg, 1895)p.29.
73. A. Rambaud, Recueil des Instructions donnees aux ambassadeurs et
a
ministres de France depuis les trailes de Westphalie jusqu' la revolution
fram;aise: Russie II (Paris, 1890) 518-9.
74. Arkhiv VorontsovQIx(Moskva, 1876)267.
75. E. L. Trifil'ev, Ocherki iz istorii krepostnogo prava v Rossii: Tsarstvo-
vanie Imperatora PavIa Pervogo (Khar'kov, 1904) pp. 278ff; E. I. Koreneva,
Krest'ianskoe dvizhenie v Rossii v 1796-1798gg: A vtoreferat dissertatsii na
soiskanie uchenoi stepeni kandidata istoricheskikh nauk (Moscow, 1954) pp.
1,9-10; M. De-Pule, 'Krest'ianskoe dvizhenie pri Imperatore Pavle Petro-
viche', Russkii A rkhiv (1869) 530, 548.
76. De-Pule, Russkii Arkhiv(1869) 536--7.
77. A. A. Bibikov, Zapiski 0 zhizni i Sluzhbe A. I. Bibikova (Moscow,
1865) p. 260.
78. Dzhedzhula, Rossiia pp. 171-2.
79. T. G. Snytko, 'Novye materialy po istorii obshchestvennogo dviz-
heniia kontsa XVIIIv', Voprosy istorii no. 9 (1952) 1.13--6. The evidence that
Snytko presents does not appear to justify fully his assertion that the Smo-
lensk group can be called a J acobin circle.
'80. A. Karasev, 'Kazn brat'ev Gruzinovykh: 27-ogo oktiabria 1800g',
Russkaia starina VII (1873) 573; O.Gvinchidze, Brat'ia Gruzinovy (Tbilisi,
1965)p.6.
81. All the above from Dzhedzhula, Rossiia pp. 192, 204-20. Of course,
Radishchev and Novikov, to some extent Chelishchev and Krechetov too,
incurred Catherine's wrath for other reasons as well as for alleged sympathy
with the French Revolution.
82. G. R. Derzhavin, Zapiski(Moscow, 1860) p. 381. See also the case of
Kotzebue in The most remarkable year in the life of Augustus von Kotzebue
written by himself and translated by the Rev. Benjamin Beresford, 3 vols
(London, 1802). And see for further examples, some of them debatable,
Dzhedzhula, Rossiia pp. 220-34 and M. M. Shtrange, Russkoe obshchestvo i
frantsuzskaia revoliutsiia 1789-1794gg(Moscow, 1956) pp. 159-61.
83. E. N. Burdzhalov, Tsarizm v bor'be s frantsuzskoi burzhuaznoi revo-
liutsiei(Moscow, 1940)p. 13.
84. Gvinchidze, Brat'ia Gruzinovy p. 34.
85. M. V. Klochkov, Ocherkipravitel'stvennoideiatel'nostivremeni Pavia
I(Petrograd,1916)pp.134-5.
86. Gvinchidze, Brat'ia Gruzinovyp. 34.
87. C. F. Masson, Memoiressecrets surla Russien (Paris, 1800)p.39.
88. V. V. Sipovskii, 'Iz proshlogo russkoi tsenzury', Russkaia starina
xcvm(1889) 164.
89. A. McConnell, A Russian Philosophe: Alexander Radishchev,
1749-1802 (The Hague, 1964)p.130.
90. Dzhedzhula, Rossiia pp. 234-54; Shtrange, Russkoe obshchestvo pp.
176-7.
91. A. A. Fursenko, 'The American and French Revolutions of the
Eighteenth Century: An attempt at a Comparative Characterization', Soviet
Studies in History vol. 13 (1974) argues that the French Revolution has a
much greater significance than does the American. Albert Soboul, 'La revol-
ution franyaise dans I'histoire du monde contemporain', Studien uber die
Revolution (Berlin, 1969) also insists on the pre-eminence of the French
Revolution over the American.
92. Edmund Burke, Worksvol.3(London, 1901)367.
93. Marquis de Condorcet, Outlines of an Historical View of the Progress
ofthe Human Mind (London, 1795) p. 265.
3. The Peaceful Modernisation ofthe Nineteenth Century

I. There is a vast literature on this subject taking such an 'optimistic'
view. See, for example, G. Katkov et al., Russia Enters the Twentieth Cen-
tury, 1894-1917 (London, 1971); T. G. Stavrou (ed.), Russia under the Last
Tsar (Minneapolis, Minn., 1969); Paul R. Gregory, 'Russian Indus-
trialisation and Economic Growth: Results and Perspectives of Western Re-
search', Jahrbucher for Geschichte Osteuropas vol. 25 (1977).
2. See note 27 below.
3. This passage comes from near the beginning of The Communist Mani-
festo.
4. Two books which examine this theme, albeit in a different manner, are
W. Laqueur, Russia and Germany (London, 1965) and H. Schreiber, Teuton
and Slav (London, 1961). In some respects, our approach follows that of
Perry Anderson, Lineages of the Absolutist State (London, 1974) and of Bar-
rington Moore Jr, Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy: Lord and
Peasant in the Making ofthe Modern World (Hardmondsworth, 1969).
5. See,forexampie,J. L. H. Keep, 'Russia 1613-45'inJ. P. Cooper (ed.),
The New Cambridge Modern History, vol. 4 (Cambridge, 1971) and chapter I
above.
6. See, for example, L. R. Lewitter, 'Poland, the Ukraine and Russia in

the 17th Century', Slavonic and East European Review vol. 27 (1948-9). And
see chapter I above.
7. Hans Rosenberg, 'The Rise of the Junkers in Brandenburg-Prussia
1410--1653', American Historical Review XLIX (1943-4) 1-22, 228-42;
F. L. Carsten, The Origins of Prussia (London, 1954)pp.176-7.
8. Carsten, Origins pp. 179ft'.
9. Ibid., p. 181.
10. See E. J. Feuchtwanger, Prussia: Myth and Reality (London, 1970)
pp.38ft'.
11. Ibid., p. 47. For Russia, see S. M. Troitskii, 'Finansovaia politika
russkogo absoliutizma vo vtoroi polovine XVII-XVIII-vv', in Druzhinin,
Absoliutizm p. 295.
12. Feuchtwanger, Prussia p.49.
13. For informed views on this subject, see H. Schreiber, Teuton and Slav,
p. 256ft'; Marc Raeft', 'The Enlightenment in Russia and Russian Thought in
the Enlightenment' in J. G. Garrard (ed.), The Eighteenth Century in Russia
(Oxford, 1973).
14. See N. M. Druzhinin, 'Prosveshchennyi absoliutizm v Rossii' in
Druzhimn, Absoliutizm; I. A. Fedosov, 'Prosveshchennyi absoliutizm v
Rossii, Voprosy istorii No.9 (1970); and the World Profiles on Frederick II
and Catherine II edited respectively by Peter Paret and Marc Raeft'.
15. See, for example, W. H. Bruford, Germany in the Eighteenth Century:
The Social Background of the Literary Revival (Cambridge, 1965);
H. Rogger, National Consciousness in Eighteenth-Century Russia (Cam-
bridge, Mass., 1960).
16. Quoted by D. B. Horn, British Public Opinion and the Partition of
Poland (Edinburgh, 1945) pp. 18-9. Compare Goethe's observation that: 'It
was Frederick the Great and the Seven Years War that first gave German
literature a subject with a real greatness and living interest': Bruford, Ger-
many p. 296; and Kliuchevskii's assertion that 'Russians under Catherine felt
themselves to be not only people, but almost the first people of Europe:
V. O. Kliuchevskii, Sochineniia vol. 5 (Moskva, 1958) 370.
17. See, for example, G. A. Craig, 'Engagement and Neutrality in Ger-
many: The Case of Georg Forster, 1754-94', Journal of Modern History 41
(1969); M. A. Bond, 'The Political Conversion of Friedrich von Gentz',
European Studies Review 3 (1973) 1-12; and, for an interesting attempt to go
beyond the familiar arguments about French influences during this period,
see R. M. Berdahl, 'New Thoughts on German Nationalism', American H is-
torical Review 77 (1972) 65-80. The East German historians, with their socio-
economic approach, have been able to bring out well the positive develop-
ments in Germany during the Napoleonic period. See Andreas Dorpalen,
'The German Struggle against Napoleon', Journal of Modern History 41
(1969) 488. For Russia, see chapter 2 above.
18. J. G. Blum, 'The Rise of Serfdom in Eastern Europe', American H is-
torical Review 62 (1956-7).
19. E. D. Domar, 'The causes of slavery or serfdom: A hypothesis', Jour-
nalofEconomic History 30 (1970).
20. See chapter 2 above and H. J. Habbakuk and M. Postan (eds), The
Cambridge Economic History of Europe vol. 6 (Cambridge, 1966), especially
the remarks by D. S. Landes on pp. 363-5 and R. Portal on p. 602. For some
interesting qualifications of the notion of German backwardness see
K. Borchardt, The Fontana Economic History of Europe IV (London, 1972)
ch. 4; T. Kemp, Industrialization in Nineteenth-Century Europe (London,
1969)pp.81-2.
21. The passage comes from near the end of The Communist Manifesto.
22. See, for example, Otto Pflanze, Bismarck and the Development ofGer-
many: The Period of Unification, 1815-71 (Princeton, 1963): H. Bohme, The
Foundation ofthe German Empire (London, 1971) pp. 40ff.
23. See, for example, W. M. Pintner, Russian Economic Policy under
Nicholas I (Ithaca, New York, 1967) pp. 5-7, 22-5.
24. Ibid., pp. 250--5.
25. Marx and Engels, quoted by N. M. Druzhinin in A. P. Bazhova et al.
(eds), Istoriia SSSR, (Moskva, 1967) 260.
26. For a good introduction to the abolition, see T. Emmons (ed.), Eman-
cipation ofthe Russian Serfs (New York, 1970).
27. See, for example, V. 1. Lenin, Collected Works 4th Ed., vol. 13
(Moscow and London, 1962) p. 239.
28. For one aspect of the Kaiser's (and the Tsar's) influence, see
R. A. Kann, 'Dynastic Relations and European Power Politics, 1848-1918',
Journal ofM odern History 45 (1973).
29. For a discussion and qualification of an important work on this sub-
ject, see O. Pflanze, 'Another Crisis among German Historians?: Helmut
Bohme's Deutschlands Weg zur Grossmacht', Journal of Modern History 40
(1958) 118-29.
30. A. Gerschenkron, Europe in the Russian Mirror; Four Lectures in
Economic History (Cambridge, 1970) p. 102.
31. On this question, see the informative and perspicacious discussion in
the Times Literary Supplement (1 Feb., 1974) pp. 93ff.
32. See A. Rosenburg,lmperial Germany: The Birth ofthe German Repub-
Iic,187/-1918 (London, reprint 1970) pp. 44ff.
33. Hans-Ulrich Wehler, 'Bismarck's Imperialism, 1862-1890', Past and
Present no. 48 (1966) 119-55.
34. K. D. Barkin, The Controversy over German Industrialization (Chi-
cago, 1972) pp. 40--2.
35. Wehler, Past and Present nos 48, 134, 146, 153. Compare the first two
chapters of V. R. Berghahn, Germany and the Approach of War (London,
1973) and the interesting review of this book by J. Steinberg, who stresses the
strength ofthe German Empire rather than its 'insoluble' problems, in His-
torical Journal XVI (1973) 203.
36. T. H. Von Laue, 'A Secret Memorandum of Sergei Witte on the In-
dustrialization of Imperial Russia', Journal of Modern History 26 (1954).
37. See, for example, J. P. McKay, Pioneers for Profit: Foreign Entre-
preneurship and Russian Industrialization, 1885-1913 (Chicago, 1970), who
argues on p. 387 that: 'The Russian experience suggests that strategies of de-
velopment based on market economies can use large-scale private foreign
investment to help meet the challenge of industrial revolution.' For a con-

trary view, see B. V. Anan'ich, Rossiia i mezhdunarodnyi kapital,1897-1914:
Ocherki istorii finansovykh otnoshenii (Leningrad, 1970) p. 299; 'Even the
most perfect financial system could not save the already doomed political
regime of the last Russian tsar.'
38. Pleve, quoted in The Memoirs of Count Witte (New York and
London, 1921) p. 250.
39. See chapter 4 below and H. D. Mehlinger, J. M. Thompson, Count
Witte and the Tsarist Government in the 1905 Revolution (Bloomington,
Indiana, 1972) pp. 32-3. Omitted here for reasons of space have been the late
nineteenth-century crises of tsarism as analysed by P. A. Zaionchkovskii
and other Soviet historians.
40. G. A. Hosking, The Russian Constitutional Experiment: Government
and Duma, 1907-1914 (Cambridge, 1973) p. lB. Nicholas and the extreme
right tended to cut themselves off from the Duma as Wilhelm and his entour-
age did from the Reichstag.
41. O. Hoetzsch, The Evolution ofRussia (London, 1966) p. 176. For con-
trasting views of the success of Stolypin's peasant policy, see W. E. Mosse,
'Stolypin's Villages', Slavonic and East European Review 43 (1965) and
G. B. Tokmakoff, 'Stolypin's agrarian reform; An appraisal', Russian Re-
view 30 (1971). Lenin believed that the Stolypin reform followed the Prussian
path. See Collected Works vol. 13, pp. 241-4.
42. A. Gerschenkron, 'Problems and patterns of Russian economic de-
velopment', in C. E. Black (ed.), The Transformation of Russian Society
(Cambridge, Mass., J960)p. 6l.
43. L. D. Trotsky, The History of the Russian Revolution (London, 1965)
pp.27-8.
44. Marx and Engels, The Communist Manifesto, preface to the Russian
edition. For a general scholarly study, see R. P. Koniushaia, Karl Marks i
revoliutsionaia Rossiia (Moscow, 1975).
45. For Durnovo's memorandum, see F. A. Golder (ed.), Documents of
Russian History, 1914-1917(New York, 1927) pp. 3-23.
46. Quoted by Michael D. Biddiss, 'From Illusion to Destruction: The
Germanic bid for world power, 1897-1945', review article, British Journal of
International Studies 2 (1976) 183.
47. This was clear enough at the time to Miliukov and others. See
Trotsky, History p. 845.
48. Sbornik IRIOxXXIII, 293-4.
49. Quoted by J. C. Miller in Triumph of Freedom, 1775-1783 (Boston,
1948) p. 586.
50. Quoted by Paul Dukes, The Emergence of the Super-Powers: A Short
Comparative History of the USA and the USSR (London and New York,
1970) p. 49. Some of the following argument is taken from that work.
51. R. W. Emerson, Works(Edinburgh,1906)p. 949.
52. From Correspondence Respecting Central Asia HMSO C. 704
(London, 1873) pp. 72-5.
53. These quotations from L. A. Rand, 'America views Russian serf
emancipation', Mid-America 50 (1968) 43-4, 47-8.
54. See Douglass C. North, Growth and Welfare in the American Past: A
new economic history (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, 1966) especially chs 10
and II.
55. Quoted by Dukes, The Emergence pp. 80-1.
56. For an interesting Soviet view of the Progressive movement, see
I. A. Beliavskaia, Burzhuaznyi reformizm vSSHA (Moskva, 1968).
57. John Higham, quoted by Marilyn Blatt Young, 'American Expan-
sion, 1870-1900: The Far East', in Barton J. Bernstein (ed.), Towards a New
Past: Dissenting Essays in American History (New York, 1969) p. 185.
58. Woodrow Wilson, quoted by Lloyd C. Gardner, 'American Foreign
Policy, 1900-1921: A Second Look at the Realist Critique of American
Diplomacy', in Bernstein, Towards a New Past p. 212.
59. O. H. Palmer, Secretary, Statement of the Origin, Organisation and
Progress of the Russian-American Telegraph Western Union Extension, Col-
lins' Overland Line . ... (Rochester, New York, 1866) p. 33.
60. Glyn Barratt, 'The Enemy that never was: The New Zealand
"Russian Scare" of 1870-1885', New Zealand Slavonic Journal no. I (1976).
Part Two The Russian Revolutions and Their Impact

I. L. Trotsky, The History ofthe Russian Revolution (London, 1965) p. 27.
2. Ibid., p. 31. And see, for example, A. Gerschenkron, Europe in the
Russian Mirror: Four Lectures in Economic History (Cambridge, 1970) pp.
109-10.
3. See Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth (Harmondsworth, 1971)
and Jean-Paul Sartre's prefatory remark on p. 9, that in this book ' ... the
Third World finds itselfand speaks to itselfthrough his voice.'
4. Victor Zorza in The Guardian Weekly, I Jan. 1978. Of course, the Chin-
ese make the distinction between the 'imperialism' of the USA and the 'social
imperialism' of the USSR, and also seek to drive a diplomatic wedge be-
tween them.
5. See, for example, Zbigniew Brzezinski, Between Two Ages: America's
Role in the Technetronic Era (New York, 1970) pp. 293-301, and the com-
ments on his outlook by Jonathan Steele in the Guardian 29 Dec. 1977.
4. The Three Russian Revolutions

I. Leon Trotsky, 1905 (Harmondsworth, 1973)p. 7.
2. SeeW. Sablinsky, The Road to Bloody Sunday (Princeton, 1976).
3. Quoted by Lionel Kochan, Russia in Revolution (London, 1970) p. 93.
4. Trotsky, 1905 pp. 98-9.
5. John Keep, The Rise of Social Democracy in Russia (Oxford, 1963) pp.
195-6.
6. Trotsky,1905p.122.
7. E. D. Chermenskii, Burzhuaziia i tsarizm v pervoi russkoi revoliutsii
(Moscow, 1970) assesses the manner in which the middle-class centre
claimed for itself the achievements of 1905.

8. Trotsky, 1905 p. 141.
9. Ibid., p. 91.
10. Julius Braunthal, History of the International, 1864-1914 (London,
1966)p.298.
11. Ibid., pp. 298-9.
12. Lenin and Pavlovich quoted in Ivar Spector, The First Russian Revol-
ution: Its Impact on Asia (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, 1962) p. 123.
13. See especially Mother and The Life ofa Useless Man.
14. Maureen Perrie, trans., ed. and intro., 'The Russian Peasantry in
1907-1908: A Survey by the Socialist-Revolutionary Party', History Work-
shop no. 4 (1977) 182, 187, 190. See also Maureen Perrie, 'The Social Com-
position and Structure of the Socialist-Revolutionary Party before 1917',
Soviet Studies vol. 24 (1972).
15. Leopold Haimson, 'The Problem of Social Stability in Urban Russia,
1905-1917', Slavic Review 23 and 24 (1964-5) and later comments by
Arthur P. Mendel, T. H. Von Laue, George L. Yaney, Truman B. Cross
and Alfred Levin.
16. Norman Stone, The Eastern Front, 1914-1917 (London, 1975) pp.
20-4.
17. See, for example, Violet Conolly, 'The "nationalities question" in the
last phase oftsardom' and Hans Braker, 'The Muslim revival in Russia' in
G. Katkov et al. (eds), Russia enters the Twentieth Century, 1894-1917
(London, 1971).
18. Stone, The Eastern Front pp. 12-3.
19. E. N. Burdzhalov, Vtoraia russkaia revoliutsiia: Vosstanie v Petro-
grade (Moskva, 1967) p. 85.
20. See Raymond Pearson, The Russian Moderates and the Crisis of Tsa-
rism, 1914-1917 (London, 1977) especially ch. 7 - 'The Reluctant Revol-
utionaries' .
21. Burdzhalov, Vtoraia: Vosstanie p. 92.
22. On 'spontaneity' and the debate concerning it in the Soviet Union, see
David Longley, 'Some Historiographical Problems of Bolshevik Party His-
tory (The Kronstadt Bolsheviks in March 1917)" Jahrbucher fur Geschichte
Osteuropas vol. 22 (1974); and Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, 'The Bolsheviks and the
Formation ofthe Petrograd Soviet in the February Revolution', Soviet Stu-
dies vol. 29 (1977). For complete opposition to the concept of 'spontaneity',
see G. Katkov, Russia 1917: The February Revolution (London, 1967).
23. John Keep, The Russian Revolution: A Study in Mass Mobilization
(London, 1976) p. 52 quotes the Moscow police chiefs view that the bread
queues in the old capital had the effect of 'tens ofthousands of revolutionary
proclamations' .
24. Leon Trotsky, The History of the Russian Revolution (London, 1965)
pp. 223-232.
25. Lenin, Collected Works vol. 24, pp. 21-4.
26. Ibid., vol. 23, 253. Lenin is talking here in a lecture on 1905 given on 9
Jan. 1917 to an audience of young 'friends and comrades' in Zurich with a
context of Europe and the world rather than Russia alone. He also says: 'We
must not be deceived by the present grave-like stillness in Europe. Europe is
pregnant with revolution.'
27. From Miliukov's note of I May 1917. See Trotsky, The Historyp. 350,
where he describes the note and talks of Miliukov's aim to 'use the war
against the revolution'.
28. These two quotations from Branko Lazitch and Milorad
M. Drachkovitch, Lenin and the Comintern vol. I (Stanford, California,
1972) pp. 21, 28-9.
29. The Times 29-31 August, 11-15 Sept. 1917.
30. For contrasting interpretations of this process, see Keep, The Russian
Revolution, and Trotsky, The History.
31. Lenin, Collected Works vol. 26, 74.
32. For contrasting interpretations of the event, see R. V. Daniels, Red
October: The Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 (London, 1967; New York, 1969)
and P. N. Sobolev et al., History of the October Revolution (Moscow, 1966).
Lenin quotation from Collected Works vol. 26, 236.
33. Notably O. H. Radkey, The Election to the Russian Constituent As-
sembly of1917 (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1950).
34. Arthur Ransome, 'Russia', The Encyclopaedia Britannica sup-
plementary vol. III (London and New York, 1926) p. 415. And see Lionel
Kochan, 'Kadet Policy in 1917 and the Constituent Assembly', Slavonic and
East European Review 45 (1967). For an appreciation of Arthur Ransome as
analyst of Russian revolutionary affairs, see W. Mandel, 'Arthur Ransome:
Eyewitness in Russia, 1919', Slavic Review 27 (1968).
35. Ransome, The Encyclopaedia vol. III, p. 415.
36. Ibid., p.415. And see Keep, The Russian Revolution parts IV and V.
37. Ransome, The Encyclopaedia vol. III, p.415.
38. Lenin, Collected Works vol. 30, pp. 253-75. And for a scholarly Soviet
analysis of the Constituent Assembly, see O. N. Znamenskii, Vserossiiskoe
uchreditel'noe sobranie (Leningrad, 1976). Gorky quotation from
R. E. F. Smith (ed.) The Russian Peasant 1920 and 1984 (London, 1977) pp.
27.
39. See generally J. Wheeler-Bennett, Brest-Litovsk: The Forgotten Peace
(London, 1934; New York, 1971).
40. Ransome, The Encyclopaedia, vol. III, 415, 417-8.
41. A Competent account may be found in D.Footman, Civil War in
Russia (London, 1961).
42. Ransome, The Encyclopaedia vol. III, p.419.
43. Quoted in Louis Fischer, The Soviets in World Affairs vol. 1 (London,
1930)p.157.
44. Quoted in John M. Thompson, Russia, Bolshevism and the Versailles
Peace (Princeton, 1966) p. 84. For a comparable approach to that ofThomp-
son, see A. J. Mayer, Politics and Diplomacy of Peacemaking: Containment
and Counter-revolution at Versailles, 1918-1919 (New York, 1967).
45. James B. Scott, President Wilson's Foreign Policy (New York, 1918)
pp. 354-63; Thompson, Russia p. 335. And see generally N. G. Levin Jr,
Woodrow Wilson and World Politics: America's Response to War and Revol-
ution (New York and London, 1970), and the many works of
W. A. Williams.
46. Quoted by I. D. Buzinkai, 'The Bolsheviks, the League of Nations,
and the Paris Peace Conference, 1919', Soviet Studies vol. 19 (1967-8) p. 258.
47. Thompson, Russiap. 319.
48. Quoted by O. G. Gankin, 'The Bolsheviks and the Founding of the
Third International', Slavic Review 1 (1941) 99.
49. Thompson, Russia p. 343.
50. Ibid.,p.319.
51. Quoted by Buzinkai, Soviet Studies vol. 19, p. 259.
52. Quoted by Carr, The Bolshevik Revolution vol. 3, p. 116.
53. Ibid., p. 130. A British delegate Fineberg was present in a 'con-
sultative' capacity.
54. Ibid., p. 132n ..
55. Ibid., p. 192. The atmosphere of the Second Com intern Congress is
well caught in A. Rosmer, Lenin's Moscow (London, 1971).
56. For the '21 Conditions' see Jane Degras (ed.), The Communist Inter-
national 1 (1956) 168-172. For the context, see The Second Congress of the
Communist International: Minutes ofthe Proceedings (London, 1977).
57. See Brian Pearce (ed.), Baku: Congress of the Peoples of the East, Sep-
tember 1920: Stenographic Report (London, 1977) pp. 34, 36; S. White,
'Communism and the East: The Baku Congress, 1920', Slavic Review 33
(1974).
58. See Paul Avrich, Kronstadt 1921 (Princeton, New Jersey, 1957);
R. V. Daniels, 'The Kronstadt Revolt of 1921: A Study in the Dynamics of
Revolution', Slavic Review 10(1951); E. Mawds1ey, 'The Baltic Fleet and the
Kronstadt Mutiny', Soviet Studies vol. 24 (1973).
59. Lenin, Collected Works vol. 32 pp. 275-82; See also Rosmer, Lenin's
Moscowpp.119-22.
60. The First Congress of the Toilers of the Far East, Moscow-Petrograd
1922 (Petrograd, 1922; reprint London, 1970) pp. 141-8.
5. The Western World

1. Ron Grant, 'The Society of Friends of Russian Freedom (1890-1917)-
A case study in Internationalism', The Journal of the Scottish Labour History
Society no. 3 (1970) 12.
2. Ibid., 15-16. See also Barry Hollingsworth, 'The Society of Friends of
Russian Freedom: English Liberals and Russian Socialists, 1890-1917',
Oxford Slavonic Papers New Ser., 3 (1970) 45-64.
3. Grant, The Journal no. 3; 17.
4. W. S. Adams, 'British reactions to the 1905 Russian Revolution',
Marxist Quarterly 2 (1955) 173.
5. I. S. Iazhborovskaia, 'Revoliutsiia 1905-1907 godov i mezhduna-
rodnoe rabochee dvizhenie', Istoriia SSSR, 1 (1975) 29-36. Iazhborovskaia
quotes Rosa Luxemburg, Gesammelte Werke Bd. 2 (Berlin, 1972) 150. Com-
pare Robert Looker (ed. and intro.), Rosa Luxemburg: Selected Political
Writings (London, 1972) pp. 117-33.
6. See, for example, Teddy Roosevelt to Upton Sinclair on 15 Mar. 1906,
Letters vol. 5, pp. 179-80.
7. A. V. Piaskovskii,Revoliutsiial905-1907ggvRossii(Moscow, 1966)p.
288.
8. Concerning later opposition to asylum in Great Britain for Nicholas II,
George V wrote: 'Those damn politicians, if it had been one of their kind,
they would have acted fast enough. But merely because the poor man was
royal. .. .' See Robert D. Warth, The Allies and the Russian Revolution:
From the Fall o/the Monarchy to the Peace 0/Brest-Litovsk (Durham, North
Carolina, 1954) p. 36.
9. Lloyd George, War Memoirs vol. 3 (London, 1934)pp.1636-46.
10. E. N. Burdzhalov, Vtoraia russkaia revoliutsiia: MoskvaJront,perife-
riia(Moscow,1971)pp.41fr-8.
II. See, for example, A. P. Mendel (ed.) P. N. Milyukov: Political
Memoirs, /905-1917 (Ann Arbor, Michigan, 1967) pp. 435-9.
12. General Sir Alfred Knox, the British military attache, made the fol-
lowing comment when Miliukov said that Russia would fight to the last drop
of blood: 'I have no doubt that Miliukov would, but can he answer for
Russia?' See Warth, The A/liesp. 32.
13. Burdzhalov, Vtoraia: Moskva pp.428-32.
14. William Gallacher, Revolt on the Clyde: An Autobiography (London,
1936)p.137.
15. See, for example, G. A. Williams, Proletarian Order: Antonio Grams-
ci, Factory Councils and the Origins 0/ Italian Communism, 1911-1921
(London, 1978)p.61.
16. Quoted by Burdzhalov, Vtoraia: Moskvap. 435.
17. Stephen White, 'Soviets in Britain: The Leeds Convention of 1917',
International Review o/Social History, vol. 19 (1974) p. 166.
18. Alastair Davidson, Antonio Gramsci (London, 1977) p. 83.
19. Burdzhalov, Vtoraia: Moskvapp.438-40.
20. Lloyd George, War Memoirs vol. 4 (London, 1934) p. 1933 wrote:
'The coming of the Russian Revolution lit up the skies with a lurid flash of
hope for all those who were dissatisfied with the existing order of society. It
certainly encouraged all the malcontents in the ranks of labour to foment
discord and organise discontent. Fishers in troubled waters, they did not cre-
ate the unrest, but they took full advantage of it. Their activities sprang into
special prominence in 1917, and seriously added to our difficulties.'
21. Burdzhalov, Vtoraia: Moskvapp.440-1.
22. Ibid., pp. 442-3; Gerhard Schulz, Revolutions and Peace Treaties
(London, 1974) p. 72.
23. John Paton, Proletarian Pilgrimage (London, 1935) p. 299.
24. Ken Coates, intro., British Labour and the Russian Revolution: A
Report/rom the Daily Herald (Nottingham [no date]) p. 20.
25. For Gallacher's comments on this, see hisRevoltpp. 164-5.
26. Ralph Miliband, Parliamentary Socialism: A Study in the Politics 0/
Labour (London, 1961) pp. 5fr-7. Anderson quotes from Coates, British
Labour pp. 12-13, 30. See also S. R. Graubard, British Labour and the
Russian Revolution, 1917-1924 (Cambridge, Massachusetts and London,
1956) pp. 39-41, including an account by Will Thorne of an interview with

George V who was worried about the outcome of the Leeds Conference.
Thorne assured the King that 'in my humble judgment there will never be a
physical violent revolution in this country'. Compare Lloyd George, War
Memoirs vol. 4 (1938). And see White, International Review, vol. 19, who de-
scribes the discussions throughout Great Britain concerning the estab-
lishment of Soviets or Councils in 1917 and 1918. And, for echoes as far away
as Aberdeen, see Lewis Grassic Gibbon and Hugh MacDiarmid, Scottish
Scene: or The Intelligent Man's Guide to Albyn (London, 1934) pp. 242-3,
where Grassic Gibbon talks of 'the founding of the Aberdeen Soviet when
the news of the Bolshevik Revolution came through from Russia: and how I
and a cub reporter from another paper attended the foundation meeting; and
were elected to the Soviet Council ... .'
27. The passage is to be found towards the end of The Communist Mani-
festo.
28. This analysis of the German Revolution taken from Schulz, Revol-
utions; E. H. Carr, The Bolshevik Revolution vol. 3 (Harmondsworth, 1966);
A. S. Lindemann, The 'Red Years': European Socialism versus Bolshevism,
1919-1921 (Berkeley, California, 1974); A. J. Ryder, The German Revolution
of 1918 (Cambridge, 1967); and R. RUrup, 'Problems ofthe German Revol-
ution 19 18-19', Journal ofCon temporary History 3 (1968)
29. See R. L. Tokes, Bela Kun and the Hungarian Soviet Republic: The
Origins and Role of the Communist Party of Hungary in the Revolutions of
1918-1919 (New York, 1967).
30. See, for example, C. A. Macartney, The Social Revolution in Austria
(Cambridge, 1926); F. L. Carsten, Revolution in Central Europe, 1918-1919
(London, 1972}pp. 78-126.
31. Schulz, Revolutions; Carr, The Bolshevik Revolution vol. 3,
32. Lindemann, The 'Red Years' pp. 249-86; R. Wohl, French Com-
munism in the Making, 1914-1924 (Stanford, California, 1966) especially ch.
5; Williams, Proletarian Order ch. II.
33. See, for example, G. H. Meaker, The Revolutionary Left in Spain,
1914-1923 (Stanford, California, 1974); A. F. Upton et al., Communism in
Scandinavia and Finland (New York and London, 1973); Encyclopaedia Bri-
tannica Supp. Vol. II (London and New York, 1926) p. 1036.
34. Gallacher, Revolt p. 221. For confirmation of Gallacher's assessment
of army unrest, see Dave Lamb, Mutinies, 1917-1920 (London, no date). For
the navy, see Public Record Office, Admiralty Digest 1919, listing items such
as 'Bolshevik Agents in the Fleet' and 'Distribution of Bolshevik Literature'.
See also letter from Tom Hadwin, History Workshop no. 4 (1977).
35. Minutes of the War Cabinet, 30 Jan. 1919, quoted in Glasgow 1919:
The Story of the 40 Hours Strike (Glasgow, [no date]) no pagination. And
see R. Desmarais, 'Lloyd George and the development of the British govern-
ment's strikebreaking organisation', International Review of Social History
vol. 20 (1975). Desmarais argues that Lloyd George agreed with the advice of
Tom Jones that 'Bolshevik propaganda is only dangerous in so far as it can
lodge itself in the soil of real grievances', but at the same time was determined
to crush unrest wherever it appeared.
36. See, for example, R. Challinor, The Origins of British Bolshevism
(London, 1977); J. Klugmann, The History of the Communist Party of Great
Britain vol. I (London, 1968); L. J. Macfarlane, The British Communist
Party: Its Origin and Development until 1929 (London, 1966). For evidence of
revolutionary feeling in Glasgow, the Rhondda Valley and elsewhere in the
summer of 1920, see Whiting Williams Full up and Fed up: The Worker's
Mind in Crowded Britain (London and New York, 1921). lowe this reference
to Raphael Samuel.
37. See, for example, Stephen White, Britain and the Bolshevik Revolution:
A Study in the Politics of Diplomacy, 1920-1924 (London, 1978) chs. 7 and 8,
and Conclusion.
38. Marcus Wheeler, 'Soviet Interest in Ireland', Survey 21 (1975) 81-5;
The Second Congress ofthe Communist International I (1977) 143,317-26.
39. William M. Brown, Communism and Christianism: Analyzed and
Contrasted from the Marxian and Darwinian points of view (Galion, Ohio,
1927) under frontispiece.
40. See, for example, T. Draper, American Communism and Soviet Russia:
The Formative Period (New York, 1960) pp. 13-24. For a Soviet analysis, see
A. V. Berezkin, Oktiabr'skaia revoliutsiia i SSHA /9/7-/922 (Moscow,
1967)ch.4.
41. Draper, American Communism p. 16.
42. Ole Hanson, Americanism versus Bolshevism (New York, 1920) pp.
28~.
43. Clayton R. Lusk et al., Revolutionary Radicalism: Its History, Purpose
and Tactics (Albany, New York, 1920) pp. 2294, 2322-3, 2385-6.
44. Compare the celebrated remarks of Mr Dooley, Finlay Peter Dunne's
creation: 'We're the greatest crusaders that iver was - fr a short distance.'
45. See, for example, the Calgary Daily Herald 16June 1919.
46. Lamb, Mutinies pp. 20-7, for an account, a reconstruction and an as-
sessment of the Kinmel Mutiny. See also The Times 8, 10,26 Mar. 1919.
Possibly, the red flags were used as signals in addition to their revolutionary
implications, themselves accentuated by the fact that one of the leaders was
William Tarasevich, of Russian descent. He and four others were shot or
bayonetted dead.
47. The Calgary Daily Herald of that date also carried stories with the
headlines 'Human Flesh Sold in Russia to Famine Stricken People' and
'Spartacans Fighting like Wild Beasts' as well as the declaration by Sir Rider
Haggard that the Kinmel Mutiny had clearly demonstrated that 'The
Empire should be kept for the citizens ofthe Empire.'
48. The Calgary Daily Herald 26 May 1919. Threatened with deportation
for their alleged infringement of Orders in Council prohibiting socialist
meetings and circulation of socialist literature, 'aliens' - mainly of Russian
descent on this occasion - had issued a joint protest earlier in the year. See
J. G. Eayrs, In Defence of Canada vol. 1 (Toronto, 1964) p. 43. The Calgary
Daily Herald 27 May 1919 called for the censorship of The Soviet being pub-
lished in Edmonton.
49. Nevertheless, Roy Maclaren, Canadians in Russia, 1918-1919 (Toron-
to, 1976) p. 516 argues that labour unrest in Canada in the year 1919 has been
under-emphasised.
50. I. Avakumovic, The Communist Party of Canada (Toronto, 1975) pp.
IOff.
51. H. J. and R. E. Simons, Class and Colour in South Africa. 1850-1950
(Harmondsworth, 1969) pp. 88, 183,285-6. See W. H. Harrison, Memoirs of
a Socialist in South Africa. 1903-1947 (Cape Town [no date]) pp. 68-72 for a
description of the foundation of the Communist Party of South Africa. For
biographies ofthe other two leaders, see R. K. Cope, Comrade Bill: The Life
and Times of w. H. Andrews. Workers' Leader (Cape Town, 1943) and
E. Roux, S. P. Bunting: A Political Biography (Cape Town, 1944). Bunting
argued in 1922 that the maintenance of the colour bar by the Rand strikers
was really a fight for civilised standards. Roux, on p. 27 of his biography,
says that Bunting ended up in the 'negrophilist camp'.
52. Alastair B. Davidson, The Communist Party of Australia: A Short
History (Stanford, California, 1969) p. 6.
53. Davidson, The Communist Party chs. I and 2. For earlier background,
see Robin A. Gollan, Radicals and Working Class Politics. 1850-1910 (Mel-
bourne, 1960).
54. Manning Clark, A Short History of Australia (New York, 1969) p.
215.
55. P. J. O'Farrell, Harry Holland: Militant Socialist (Canberra, 1964) p.
108.
56. More respectable newspapers such as the Lyttelton Times, the New
Zealand Herald, and The Christchurch Press took a line similar to that of the
Sydney Morning Herald.
57. O'Farrell, Harry Hollandp. Ill. Holland and his colleagues were de-
nounced by the Marxian Association as 'the Kerenskys and Scheidemanns
of New Zealand'. Ibid., p. 110.
58. John A. Lee, Rhetoric at the Red Dawn (Auckland and London 1965)
p.7.
59. H. O. Roth, 'The October Revolution and New Zealand Labour',
Political Science 13 (1961)45-55.
60. Keith Sinclair, A History of New Zealand (Harmondsworth, 1969) p.
244.
61. Sinclair, A History.
62. Kikuchi Masanori, Roshiya Kakumei to Nihonjin (The Russian Revol-
ution and the Japanese (Tokyo, 1973) as summarised and translated by Tsu-
yoshi Hasegawa, pp. 61-7,103-6,247-50,256-7,259-65.
63. Chitoshi Yanaga, Japan since Perry (New York and London, 1949)
pp.468-82.
64. Robert A. Scalapino, The Japanese Communist Movement. 1920-1966
(Berkeley and Los Angeles, California, 1967) pp. 14-21. For some worth-
while articles on the development of Japanese socialism, see Rivista Storica
Italiana Anno LXXXIX (1977).
65. Carr, The Bolshevik Revolution vol. 3, pp. 516-7.
66. W. K. Hancock and Jean Van der Poel (eds), The Smuts Papers vol. 4
(London, 1966) pp 83-7.
67. G. Pitt-Rivers, The World Significance of the Russian Revolution
(Oxford, 1920)p.44.
68. Frank Anstey, Red Europe (Glasgow, 1921) p. 176. For a fictional
representation of Anstey, see the character of 'Frank Ashton' in Frank
Hardy's novel Power Without Glory.
6. The Third World

1. Vilhjalmur Stefansson, The Northward Course of Empire (London,
1922); The Adventure of Wrangel Island (London, 1926).
2. See, for example, the brief account of the Bellingsgausen-Lazarev
Expeditions, 1819-1821, in Dimitri M. Lebedev and Vadim I. Grekov,
'Geographical Exploration by the Russians', a contribution to Herman
R. Friis (ed.) The Pacific Basin: A History of its Geographical Exploration
(New York, 1967) pp. 194-7. lowe the references in notes 1 and 2 to Terence
Armstrong.
3. See, for example, The Second Congress of the Communist International,
1 (London, 1977) 109-20. See also Dov Bing, Revolution ill China: Sneevlie-
tian Strategy Auckland University, Unpublished M.A. Thesis, especially ch.
5.
4. Lenin, Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism (Moscow, 1970)
pp.73-4.
5. Appendix to the Journals of the House of Representatives of New Zea-
land. 1920 1, A4, AS.
6. C. E. Russell, Bolshevism and the United States (Indianapolis, 1919) p.
4.
7. Encyclopaedia Britannica 11 th ed. (Cambridge, 1910).
8. H. W. Wilson and J. A. Hammerton (eds), The Great War: The Stan-
dard History ofthe All-Europe Conflict vol. 3 (London, 1915) p. 177.
9. PRO, W095,4532.
10. David Mitchell, 1919: Red Mirage (London, 1970) p. 124.
11. J. F. Cody, Man of Two Worlds: Sir Maui Pomare (Wellington, 1953)
pp.112-14.
12. All the above communications from PRO, CO 209:300.
13. Council for World Mission Archives, School of Oriental and African
Studies, London, South Seas 1919, Box 59.
14. PRO, CO 209:301.
IS. Appendix, vol. 1 A4.
16. Cody, Man of Two Worlds, pp.132-3.
17. PRO, CO 83: 150, 211, 263, 343, 372, 383.
18. Ibid., 558.
19. K. Dhanesh, Adolf von Plevitz: The Precursor of Manilal Doctor
(Mauritius, no date) pp. 45-7.
20. PRO,C083:151, 101, 102, 129,230.
21. H. Roth, 'The October Revolution and New Zealand Labour', Polit-
ical Science 13 (1961) 52.
22. For later developments in Fiji, see K. L. Gillion, The Fiji Indians:
Challenge to European Dominance. 1920-1946 (Canberra, 1977).
23. Ian Willis, 'Rabaul's 1929 Strike', New Guinea vol.5 (1970) pp. 13-4. I
owe this reference to Hugh Laracy.
24. Pre-revolutionary Russo-African connections from Edward
T. Wilson, Russia and Black Africa before World War II (New York and
London, 1974)pp. xiv-xv, 3, 73, 79-89.
25. PRO, CO 96:597, 600, 601.
26. Latter part of this paragraph from Wilson, Russia and Black Africa
pp.110-20.
27. John D. Hargreaves, 'Assimilation in Eighteenth-Century Senegal',
Journal ofAfrican History 6 (1965) 183.
28. A. B. Letnev, 'Politicheskoe probuzhdenie vo frantsuszkoi zapadnoi
Afrike posle pervoi mirovoi voiny, 1918-1923gg', in A. B. Davidson et al.
(eds), Tropicheskaia Afrika: Problemy istorii (Moscow, 1973) pp. 16, 17,
19-21,22,29,33-34,54,61-8. Andre Marty, La revolte de la Mer Moire
(Paris, 1939) refers to Senegalese participation in a revolt only at Itea in
Greece on 26-7 June 1919. See pp. 449-50. I am grateful to Marc Michel for
his comments on the Senegalese in the War and Intervention. M. Michel is
sceptical about Letnev's account.
29. I. Milton Sacks, 'Marxism in Viet Nam', in Frank N. Trager (ed.),
Marxism in Southeast Asia: A Study of Four Countries (Stanford, California,
1959) pp. !O3-11.
30. Jeanne S. Mintz, 'Marxism in Indonesia', in Trager, Marxism, pp.
171-80. See generally the works of Ruth T. McVey, including The Rise of
Indonesian Communism (Ithaca, New York, 1965) and The Social Roots of
Indonesian Communism (Brussels, 1970).
31. G. Adhikari, Documents of the History of the Communist Party of
India, vol. I, 1917-1922(New Delhi, 1972)pp.I-2.
32. Goutam Chattopadhyay, in conversation with the author, May 1974.
33. This paragraph from Ivar Spector, The First Russian Revolution: Its
Impact on Asia (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, 1962) pp. 94-8.
34. Ibid., pp. 98-100.
35. Lenin, 'Inflammable Material in World Politics', quoted by Goutam
Chattopadhyay, 'Impact ofthe Russian Revolution on the Indian Freedom
Movement - Some Aspects', in Horst Kruger (ed.), Neue Indienkunde:
Festschrift Walter Ruben zum 70 Geburtstag (Berlin, 1970) p. 177.
36. Quoted in ibid., p. 178.
37. Ibid., p. 178. See also T. G. Fraser, 'Germany and Indian Revolution,
19 14-1918', Journal ofCon temporary History 12(1977).
38. Chattopadhyay, Neue Indienkunde, p. 178. See also Zafar Imam, 'The
Rise of Soviet Russia and Socialism in India, 1917-1929' in B. R. Nanda
(ed.), Socialism in India (Delhi and London, 1972) pp. 42-3. lowe this refer-
ence to Rosemary Tyzack.
39 Zafar Imam, ColonialislJl in East-West Relations: A Study of Soviet
Policy towards India and Anglo-Soviet Relations (New Delhi, 1969) pp. 54-5,
56-72,74-7.
40. Adhikari,Documentsvol.l,p.15.
41. Ibid., pp. 15-6; Chattopadhyay, Neue Indienkunde p. 180; Imam, Col-
onialism, pp. 59-62.
42. Quoted by Adhikari, Documents vol. 1, p. 19. See also A. I. lunel,
'V. I. Lenin i stanovlenie sovetsko-indiiskikh obshchestvenno-
politicheskikh otnoshenii v 1917-1922gg', Istoriia SSSR no. 1(1974).
43. Imam, Colonialism pp. 71-4,117-19; Adhikari, Documents vol. I, pp.
16--20.
44. Ibid., pp. 33-46.
45. Ibid., p. 52.
46. Ibid., p. 52. See also L. F. Rushbrook Williams, India in 1920: A
report preparedfor presentation to Parliament . .. (Calcutta, 1921) p. I: 'It is
impossible to understand on the one hand the relations between India and
Afghanistan, and on the other hand the relations between India and the
Frontier Tribes, without some knowledge ofthe stormy background of Bol-
shevik activity upon which both in greater or less degree largely depended.'
47. Adhikari, Documents, vol. 1,50-2.
48. E. H. Carr, The Bolshevik Revolution, 1917-1923 vol. 3 (Harmonds-
worth, 1966) pp. 239-42, 290-2, 463-4.
49. Sir Cecil Kaye, Communism in India ed. by Subodh Roy, p. 132;
Imam, Colonialism pp. 74-7.
50. And in books such as Edmund Candler, Bolshevism: The Dream and
the Facts (Bombay, 1920). See, for example, p. 79: 'The adoption of Bolshe-
vism in principle would mean that the Brahmin would have to do the work of
the chamar, clerks would be employed as scavengers, and bankers and mer-
chants would be seen cleaning the common sewers.'
51. Quoted by Chattopadhyay , Neue Indienkunde p. 181.
52. Quoted in ibid., pp. 183-4.
53. See P. G. Robb, The Government of India and Reform: Policies
towards Politics and the Constitution, 1916-1921 (Oxford, 1976).
54. The section on Turkey from Spector, The First pp. 62--6; George
S. Harris, The Origins of Communism in Turkey (Stanford, California, 1967)
ch.1.
55. The section on Iran from Spector, The Frrst pp. 38-50. For the views
of an English contemporary, see E. G. Browne, The Persian Revolution of
1905-1909 (Cambridge, 1910). For Lenin's views, see 'Events in the Balkans
and in Persia', October 1908, in Collected Works vol. 15, pp. 220-30.
56. Carr, The Bolshevik Revolution vol. 3, p. 247.
57. Ibid., pp. 246--51, 266--7, 294-304, 468-72; Harris, The Origins chs.
4-6.
58. Carr, The Bolshevik Revolution vol. 3, pp. 246, 292-4, 464-8. See also
Sepehr Zabih, The Communist Movement in Iran (Berkeley and Los
Angeles, 1966) pp. 43, 45; and Nasrullah Saifpour Fatemi, Diplomatic His-
tory ofPersia, 1917-1923 (New York, 1952). The section on Turkey and Iran
has been modified somewhat, following expert comment generously given
by William Olson.
59. Hans Kohn, A History of Nationalism in the East (London, 1919),
especially ch. 7; Walter Laqueur, Communism and Nationalism in the Middle
East (London, 1956), especially ch. 2. And for a scholarly survey of the Bol-
shevik threat to the British sphere of influence in general, see Stephen White,
Britain and the Bolshevik Revolution: A Study in the Politics of Diplomacy,
1920-1924 (London, 1978), especially chs. 4-6.

60. Lucien Bianco, Origins of the Chinese Revolution, 1915-1949 (Stan-
ford, California, and London, 1971) pp. 4-12. For a distinctive, anti-socialist
approach to the subject, see Donald W. Treadgold, The West in Russia and
China: Religious and Secular Thought in Modern Times vol. 2 (Cambridge,
1973).
61. This paragraph from Spector, The First pp. 77-87.
62. Ibid., p. 85.
63. Joseph W. Esherick, Reform and Revolution in China: The 1911 Revol-
ution in Hunan and Hubei(Berke1ey, California, and London, 1976) p. 258.
64. This paragraph from Carr, The Bolshevik Revolution vol. 3, pp.
489-98; A. S. Whiting, Soviet Policies in China, 1917-1924 (New York,
1954) especially p. 30.
65. Carr, The Bolshevik Revolution vol. 3, pp. 528-30.
66. Treadgold, The WestvoI.2,p.136.
67. Bianco, Origins 39-43, 54. And for the part played by about 2000
emigres, see C. Brandt, 'The French returned elite in the Chinese Com-
munist Party' in E. F. Szczepanik (ed.) Economic and Social Problems of the
Far East (Hong Kong, 1962).1 owe this reference to Delia Davin.
68. Carr, The Bolshevik Revolution vol. 3, pp. 524-8, 533-4.
69. Ibid., pp. 488-9, 505-14, 522-4. See also The First Congress of the
Toilers of the Far East (Petrograd, 1922; reprint London, 1970) pp. 95-121
and passim. And see Owen Lattimore, intro., Gerard M. Friters, Outer Mon-
golia and its International Position (London, 1951).
70. K. M. Panikkar, Asia and Western Dominance (London, 1959) p. 152.
71. Brian Pearce (ed.), Baku Congress of the Peoples of the East (London,
1977) p. 85.
72. Angelica Balabanova, My Life as a Rebel (London, 1938) pp. 318-19.
73. Robert J. Alexander, Communism in Latin America (New Brunswick,
New Jersey, 1957) p. 34.
74. Ibid., pp. 319-22.
75. This general survey taken from ibid., passim. See R. E. Poppin, In-
ternational Communism in Latin America: A History of the Movement,
1917-1963 (New York, 1964). lam grateful to David Waddell for his perusal
of the section on Latin America.
76. A. I. Sizonenko, 'Sovetskaia Rossiia i Latinskaia Amerika v 1917-
1924gg', Voprosy istorii 6 (1973).
Part Three Revolutions in Retrospect and Prospect

1. Daniel Field, 'The Reformsofthe 1860s', Windows on the Russian Past:
Essays on Soviet Historiography Since Stalin (Columbus, Ohio, 1977) pp. 92,
95.
7. Sixty Years After

1. David Layzer, quoted by G. J. Whitrow, The Nature of Time (Har-
mondsworth, 1972) p. 132.
2. P. N. Miliukov, Istoriia vtoroi russkoi revoliutsii (Sofia, 1921) pp.
11-22, quoted by Arthur E. Adams, The Russian Revolution and Bolshevik
Victory: Why and How? (Boston, Massachusetts, 1960) p. I.
3. J. H. Plumb, The Death ofthe Past (Harmondsworth 1973)p. 115.
4. George Bancroft, History of the United States of A merica from the Dis-
covery ofthe Continent the author's last revision vol. 4 (New York, 1886) p. 4.
Although not giving specific approval to this passage and while making
subtle reservations which cannot be entered into here, Edmund S. Morgan
nevertheless suggests that 'the Whig interpretation of the American Revol-
ution may not be as dead as some historians would have us believe, that
George Bancroft may not have been so far from the mark as we have often
assumed'. See his The Challenge of the American Revolution (New York,
1976)p.57.
5. M. M. Klein, 'The American Revolution in the Twentieth Century',
The Historian vol. 34 (1972) p. 229; Richard B. Morris, The American Revol-
ution Reconsidered (New York and London, 1967) p. 85.
6. See, for example, G. A. Billias, 'The First Un-Americans: The
Loyalists in American Historiography' in A. T. Vaughan and G. A. BiJlias
(eds), Perspectives on Early American History: Essays in Honor of
R. B. Morris (New York, 1973).
7. See, for example, Jesse Lemisch, 'The American Revolution Seen from
the Bottom Up', in Barton J. Bernstein (ed.), Towards a New Past: Dissent-
ing Essays in American History (New York, 1969); and for a convenient re-
view essay, see R. C. Simmons, 'Class Ideology and Revolutionary War',
History vol. 62 (1977).
8. Richard Hofstadter, The Progressive Historians: Turner. Beard. Par-
rington (New York, 1968) pp. 29, 39, 66.
9. George L. Beer, African Questions at the Paris Peace Conference (New
York,1923)p.4.
10. H. E. Bolton, The Epic of Greater America', American Historical
Review 38 (1932-3) 473-4. Bolton went on to modify his assertion signifi-
cantly: 'Before closing I wish to repeat with emphasis that I do not propose
such a synthesis as a substitute for, but as a setting in which to place, anyone
of our national histories.' And see Wider Horizons ofAmerican History (New
York and London, 1939).
II. American Historical Review, 39 (1933-4) 227-8, Hofstadter, The Pro-
gressive Historians pp. 72,102-3,135,333.
12. See chapter 2 above. And see A. J. Mayer, Politics and Dip/omacy of
Peacemaking: Containment and Counterrevolution at Versailles. /9/8-/9/9
(New York, 1967) p. viii: 'My conception of the age of the Russian Revol-
ution owes much to Robert Palmer's treatment of an earlier age.'
13. W. Kloosterboer, Involuntary Servitude since the Abolition ofS/avery:
A Survey of Compulsory Labour throughout the Worll (Leiden, 1960); C.
Vann Woodward, 'Emancipations and Reconstructions: A Comparative
Study', XIII mezhdunarodnyi kongress istoricheskikh nauk: Doklady kon-
gressatom I (Moscow, 1973).
14. C. Vann Woodward (ed.), The Comparative Approach to American
History (New York, 1968)p.3.

15. Aileen S. Kraditor attacks the 'conflict' concept as well as that of the
'consensus', since both lead to the posing of 'yes-type' questions for which
the answers are predetermined. See her 'American Radical Historians and
their Heritage', Past and Present no. 56 (1972) 137.
16. Jesse Lemisch in debate with Staughton Lynd at the New University
Conference in Spring 1968, appendix to Staughton Lynd's pamphlet, Intel-
lectuals. the University and the Movement (Boston [no date n.
17. David Donald, 'Radical Historians on the Move', New York Times
Book Review section, 19July 1970.
18. For further discussion of such an exit see, for example. Louis Hartz,
'American Historiography and Comparative Analysis', Comparative Studies
in Society and History vol. 5 (1962-3); Walter Hugins, 'American History in
Comparative Perspective', Journal of American Studies II (1977); and
P. P. McCormick, 'The Comparative Method; Its Application to American
History', Mid-America no. 61 (1974).
19. Ernest R. May, 'The Cold War', in Woodward, The Comparative, p.
342. For pre-1914 American-Russian comparisons, see chapter 3 above.
20. V. E. IIIeretskii et al. (eds),1storiografiia istorii SSSR (Moskva, 1961)
pp. 305-16. For the early formation of the Russian school, see J. L. Black,
'The State School Interpretation of Russian History: A Re-Appraisal of its
Genetic Origins', Jahrbucher fur Geschichte Osteuropas Band 21 (1973). See
also J. L. Black Nicholas Karamzin and Russian Society in the Nineteenth
Century (Toronto, 1975)pp.I64-89.
21. S. Harper, The Russia I Believe In (Chicago, 1945) p. 9 points out that
Miliukov was preceded by the Czech statesman Masaryk in 1902.
22. P. N. Miliukov, Russia and Its Crisis new ed. (New York, 1962) p.
408.
23. P. N. Miliukov, Russia Today and Tomorrow (London, 1922)p. 294.
24. See, for example, A. E. Presniakov, 'Tri stoletiia' vol. I, 1-3, and
other contributions to V. V. Kallash (ed.), Tri veka (Moscow, 1912-13), a
six-volume celebration of the tercentenary of the Romanov dynasty.
25. See H. Asher, 'The Rise, Fall and Resurrection ofM. N. Pokrovsky',
The Russian Review 31 (1972); J. D. White, 'Historiography of the Russian
Revolution in the Twenties', Critique vol. 1(1973); S. H. Baron, 'Plekhanov,
Trotsky and the Development of Soviet Historiography', Soviet Studies vol.
26(1974).
26. Perhaps the outstanding example of a patriotic historian was
E. V. Tarle. See A. K. Erickson, 'E. V. Tarle: The Career of a Historian
under the Soviet Regime', Slavic Review 19 (1960).
27. H. J. Ellison, 'Soviet Historians and the Russian Revolution', in
L. H. Legters (ed.) Russia: Essays in History and Literature (Leiden, 1972);
George M. Enteen, 'A Recent Trend on the Historical Front', Survey vol. 20
(1974); John Keep, 'The Current Scene in Soviet Historiography; Survey.
vol. 20 (1974); D. A. Longley, 'Some Historiographical Problems of Bolshe-
viks Party History (The Kronstadt Bolsheviks in March 1917)" Jahrbucher
fUr Geschichte Osteuropas vol. 22 (1974).
28. One of these has been translated into English by D. Jones -
P. A. Zaionchkovskii, The Russian Autocracy under Alexander III (Gulf
Breeze, Florida, 1976).
29. Samuel Harper, The Russia I Believe In (Chicago, 1945) p. 108 writes
that 'we Americans were guilty of wishful thinking.' For examples of such
thinking, especially by Harper, see C. Lasch, The American Liberals and the
Russian Revolution (New York, 1962)pp. 28,45, 73,105-7,159.
30. Ibid., pp. xv-xvi.
31. G. F. Kennan, Soviet Foreign Policy, /9/7-/94/ (Princeton, New
York and London, 1960) p. 115.
32. G. F. Kennan, The Marquis de Custineand his Russia in /839 (Prince-
ton, 1971). For Kennan's later views see 'Mr X - 30 Years On: An Interview
with George Urban', Encounter (September 1976) and 'The Russian Ques-
tion', Encounter (March 1978). He now defends detente.
33. N. N. Bolkhovitinov, 'The Study of United States History in the
Soviet Union', American Historical Review 74 (1968-9) 1221. Pre-
revolutionary Russian writing on the United States was not for the most part
at an academic level. For an example of the work of perhaps the most not-
able figure, see M. Kovalevsky, 'American Impressions' Russian Review 10
(1951).
34. See, as a small translated example, N. N. Bolkhovitinov's own article,
'The role of the "frontier" in the history of the USA (a critical analysis of the
views ofF. J. Turner)', Soviet Studies in History vol. 2 (963-4).
35. See, for example, A. A. Fursenko, 'The American and French Revol-
utions of the eighteenth century: An attempt at a comparative con-
sideration', Soviet Studies in History vol. 13 (1974).
36. N. N. Bolkhovitinov, 'Sovremennaia amerikanskaia istoriografiia:
novye techeniia i problemy', Novaia i noveishaia istoriia no. 6 (1969) 129.
37. A. P. Mendel, 'Current Soviet Theory of History: New Trends or
Old?" American Historical Review 72 (1966-7) 72-3.
38. A. P. Mendel, 'On the Eve of Freedom',lngenor4 (Michigan Univer-
sity College of Engineering, 1968) 24.
39. During a tour of the United States in 1970, the writer found very few
historians sympathetic to the concept of 'scientific explanation'.
40. James P. Scanlan, 'From Historical Materialism to Historical Inter-
actionism: A Philosophical Examination of Some Recent Developments', in
Samuel H. Baron and Nancy W. Heer (eds), Windows on the Russian Past:
Essays on Soviet Historiography since Stalin (Columbus, Ohio, 1977) p. 20.
41. A. G. Meyer, 'Theories of Convergence' in C. Johnson (ed.), Change
in Communist Systems (Stanford, 1973) pp. 336-7.
42. For stimulating discussion on this point, see D. A. Hollinger,
'T. S. Kuhn's Theory of Science and Its Implications for History', American
Historical Review 78 (1973); C. Vann Woodward, 'The Future of the Past',
A merican Historical Review 75 (1970).
43. J. H. Plumb, in his Introduction to The History of Human Society
Series, for example, in J. H. Parry, The Spanish Seaborne Empire (London
and New York, 1966) p. 17.
44. So argues P. M. Kennedy, 'The Decline of Nationalistic History in
the West, I900--1 970',Journal o/Contemporary History 8 (1973).
45. For an interesting discussion of how Orwell chose his title, see 'Note
on the sources of George Orwell's 1984' in R. E. F. Smith (ed.), The Russian
Peasant 1920 and 1984 (London, 1977) pp. 9-10. One of the possibilities
referred to by Smith is Jack London's The Iron Heel. Another is
A. V. Chayanov's The Journey of my Brother Alexei to the Land of Peasant
Utopia, first published in Moscow in 1920, in which the following passage
describing one future development occurs: 'After six months of bloodshed,
peace was restored by the joint efforts of America and the Scandinavian
Union, but at the price of dividing the world into five closed economic
systems - German, Anglo-French, American-Australian, Japan-China and
Russian. Each ofthese isolated systems was allocated pieces of territory in all
climatic zones, sufficient to ensure their economic existence, and thereafter,
while preserving a community of culture, they developed altogether different
political and economic ways oflife'. See Smith, The Russian Peasant p. 86.
46. In a book review, Journal of European Studies 3 (1973) 309. See also
the remarks of Ronald G. Suny in another book review, in Sbornik of the
Study Group on the Russian Revolution (Leeds, 1975) p. 24: 'The concept
"totalitarianism" has in recent years been subject to acute criticism, its
underlying
, values and biasses exposed, and its essential fuzziness revealed
47. D. Schoenbaum, Hitler's Social Revolution: Class and Status in Nazi

Germany 1933-1939 (London, 1967) p. xiv.
48. For a fuller assertion of this argument, see Paul Dukes and John
W. Hiden, 'Towards an Historical Comparison of Nazi Germany and Soviet
Russia in the 1930s', New Zealand Slavonic Journal no. 2 (1978).
49. Giorgio Napolitano interviewed by Eric Hobsbawm, The Italian
Road to Socialism (London, 1977) p. 99.
50. Ahmed Mohiddin, 'Socialism the Answer to Africa', Uganda Argus 5
Sept. 1969, quoted in James Mulira, The Role of Soviet Bloc Countries in the
Political. Economic and Social Developments of Uganda. 1945-1970 unpub-
lished Ph.D. Dissertation in History (Princeton, 1974).
51. S. R. Gardiner, The Thirty Years War. 1618-1648 (London, 1903) p.
199.
52. J. R. Platt the physicist, quoted by Arthur Koestler in a book review
in the Observer 25 Sept. 1977.
Bibliographical Note
There is a vast literature on the Russian Revolution and on modern Russian

history. Yet, as far as I know, there is no other work in English which at-
tempts to consider these subjects in the manner undertaken here. For that
reason, a bibliography of a general nature cannot be provided. True, books
such as Stanley w. Page, Lenin and World Revolution (New York, 1959) and
Arnold Toynbee, The Impact of the Russian Revolution: The Influence of Bol-
shevism on the World outside Russia (London, 1967) suggest an approach
similar to Part 2, but both are essays of a somewhat broader nature and less
close in focus. The third volume of E. H. Carr's The Bolshevik Revolution
(London, 1953) subtitled 'Soviet Russia and the World' is a much more
scholarly treatment than that given in Part 2, yet it says little about the
Southern Hemisphere or about the course of the Russian Revolution itself.
Crane Brinton, The Anatomy of Revolution (London, 1953) is a stimulating
comparison of the great revolutions of modern times. W. H. Chamberlin,
The Russian Revolution. 1917-1921,2 vols. (New York, 1935) and several
later editions is generally agreed still to be the best of its kind. Chapter 38,
'The Drive for World Revolution' is an introduction to the themes tackled in
chapters 5 and 6 of the present work. As far as studies of a more specific
nature are concerned, they are introduced with full title as well as place and
date of publication on their first appearance in each chapter.
Index
Abdul Hamid II 157 Bernstein, E. 58, 61, 104

Afghanistan 151, 153, 156, 157- Bismarck 55, 57, 60
60, 161 Bloch, M. 171, 177
Albania 119 Blum, L. 120
Alexander I 29, 53 Bolotnikov, Ivan 39, 173
Alexander II 56,67, 71 Bolotov, A. T. 31,35-6
Alexander III 70 Bordiga, A. 120
Alexandra 85, 86, 88 Borodin, Michael 167
Alexis Mikhailovich 7, 9, 12, Brazil 166-7
13-18,22,51 Brown, W. M. 123
Allen, Sir James 136, 137 Bryan, W. J. 69
Amalrik, Andrei 180 Buchanan, Sir George 106
Amanullah 154 Bulavin, K. 39
Anderson, W. C. 110 Bulgaria 119
Andrews, W. H. 127 Bullitt, W. 97
Anstey, Frank 132, 142 Bunting, S. P. 127
Antarctic 133 Burdzhalov, E. N. 180
Arahata, K. 130 Bush, Captain 135, 136, 137
Arctic 133
Argentina 166-7, 168
Australia 103, 127-8, 141-3 Canada 108, 125-6, 143
Austria (inc. Habsburgs) 5, 8, Caribbean 72, 166, 168
9,53,55,81, 104-5, 106, 112 Carlyle, T. 40
Avvakum 5,6 Catherine II 23, 25, 27, 28, 30,
38,43
Baars 147 Charles I I, 8, 18
Baden, Max von 112 Charles II 18, 19,20,22
Balfour, A. J. 104 Chatterji, B. C. 148
Baltic 5, 8, 18-19, 26, 44, 53, Chattopadhyaya, V. 151
78,97,98, 105, 117, 119 Chelishchev, P. I. 46
Barker, Tom 128 Chelmsford, Lord 152, 156
Bauer, G. 114 Chicherin, G. 155, 159, 160
Belgium 82, 99 Chile 166-7
220
INDEX 221
China 11,22,56,72,73,75,99, Filaret 10
102, 152, 156, 161-5, 173 Finland 121
ChiroI, Sir Valentine 149 Fletcher, C. B. 127-8
Chitoshi, Y. 130 Fraina, L. 167
Chou En-Iai 146 France 4-9, 12, 18, 19-21, 25-
Christina 8 9,41-3, 52-4, 65, 81, 99, 102,
Churchill, Sir Winston 96, 144, 104, 106, 107, 120-1, 144,
177 146, 173, 188
Clemenceau, G. 97 Franz Josef 118
Clifford, H. 145 Frederick II, The Great 51, 52
Coffin, A. W. 125 Frederick William, The Great
Connolly, Roderick 123 Elector 51
Cook Islands 134-41 Frederick William I 51, 52
Cromwell 8, 18, 19,93 Frederick William IV 55
Cuba 168
Culpepper, Lord 18, 19 Gale, L. 167
Curzon, Viscount 98, 154, 155 Gallacher, W. 107, 109, 121
Custine, Marquis de 183 Gandhi 142, 152, 155, 156
Czechoslovakia (inc. Bohemia) George V 134, 145
4,82, 112, 118-19 Germany 2, 4, 5, 10, 23-4, 39,
43, 50-62, 72, 74, 82, 85, 94,
D' Alembert 30 95, 98, 104, 106-7, 108-9,
Deane, S. 62 111-17, 118, 119, 120, 131,
Debs, E. V. 71, 104, 108 150-1, 153, 170, 173, 176, 185,
DeLeon, D. 104 187-8
Denikin, A. 93 Geyl, P. 121
Denmark 23 Gold Coast 145
Derzhavin, G. R. 46 Gompers, S. 124
Diagne, B. 146 Gorchakov, A. 65
Diderot 30 Gorky, M. 84, 93, 167
Dokhturov, G. S. 17, 18 Gramsci, A. 107, 173
Durnovo, P. N. 60,61 Great Britain (including Eng-
land, Scotland) 4, 5, 6, 8, 10,
Ebert, F. 114-16 11,17,18,20,22,24-6,42,43,
Egypt 135-6, 161 50, 53, 5~ 58, 62, 65, 7~ 8~
Eisner, K. 116 99, 102, 103, 106, 107, 109-11,
Emerson, R. W. 64 121-3, 126, 143-4, 150
Engels, see Marx and Engels Greece 4-5, 119
England, see Great Britain Grimm, M. von 43, 62
Enlightenment 23, 29-30, 52, Groener, W. 114, 115
182 Gunning, Sir Robert 31
Enver Pasha 160 Gustavus Adolphus 10, 18
Feary, T. 129, 143 Haase, H. 108

Fiji 141-3 Hansen, O. 124
222 INDEX
Hardenberg, K. von 53 Kolchak, Admiral 93, 97, 163-

Hawaii 131, 134 4
Haywood, W. 104 Korea 99, 165
Heckert, F. 108 Kornilov, General 90, 92, 116
Hindenburg, P. von 114 Krechetov, F. 46
Ho Chi Minh 146, 147 Kuchuk Khan 160, 161
Holland, see Netherlands Kun, Bela 118
Holland, H. E. 128, 129
Hoover, H. 97 LaFollette, R. 71
Horthy, Admiral 119 League of Nations 96-8, 123,
Horvath, General 164 145
Howard, E. J. 128 Leibniz 51
Hughes, W. 128 Lenin 50,60,61,62,78,82,88,
Hume, D. 53 102, Ill, 113, 117, 118, 122,
Hungary 4, 56, 98, 106, 112, 125, 133, 134, 150, 153, 154,
117-19 159, 173, 180, 183
Leslie, Sir Alexander 7
India 102, 123, 142, 148-56 Liebknecht, K. 112, 113, 116
Indonesia 147 List, F. 59
International, Second 88, 99, Lithuania 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 96, 98,
104, 116, Third 47, 76, 97-9, 105, 108
100-2, 116, 131, 161 Liverpool, Lord 136, 137, 138
loffe, A. 164, 165 Lloyd George, D. 96, 98, 105,
Ireland 122-3 108
Ishibashi, T. 129 London, J. 72
Italy 4,9,82,89, 106-8, 120-1, Louis XVI 24, 25
173, 188 Ludendorff, E. von 114
Izvolsky, A. 106 Lusk, C. R. 124-5
Luxemburg, R. 104, 108, 112,
Jagow, 60-1 113, 116, 173
James II 20 Lvov, Prince G. 85, 86, 104,
James, Bond 138, 147 114
Japan 75, 102, 103, 106, 129-
31, 152, 162-4, 172 Macdonald, R. 109
Jaures, J. 104 Maclean, J. 122
Mahan, Admiral 175
Kapp, W. 116 Manilal, Doctor 142, 143
Karolyi, M. 118 Mannerheim, Marshal 121
Katayama, S. 102, 167 Mao Tse-tung 162
Kemal Ataturk 154, 158-60 Marx and Engels 8, 50, 55,60,
Kerensky, A 89-91, 114, 134, 61,70,71,111,150,183
151, 164 Mauritius 142
Khmelnitsky, B. 9, 13 Mazarin 8, 9, 10
Kliuchevsky, V. O. 66 Menezes, D. F. de 29
Knox, General 106 Mexico 64,66,67, 73, 166-7
INDEX 223
Michael Romanov 7, 12, 17 Peter III 32, 52
Miliukov, P. N. 102, 106 Petsner, F. 7
Mongolia 164, 165 Phillips, C. 167
Montesquieu 30 Pinaar-Joubert, General 144
Montagu, E. 152, 156 Pirenne, H. 177
Morozov, B. 9, 12-17 Platts, Commissioner 136
Mussolini 120 Pleve, V. von 59, 72, 76-7
Nabokov, K. 106 Poland 4-13, 18,36, 78, 82, 97,
Nairoji, D. 149 98,100,101,117,119
Nansen, F. 97 Pomare, Sir Maui 136-8, 141
Napoleon 53, 55 Portugal 29, 99, 121
Nash, W. 129 Pozharsky, D. 6
Nehru, J. 150, 156 Pratap, M. 153
Netherlands (including Holland) Pugachev, E. 30-45, 79, 173
5, 7, 8, 10, 18, 43, 54, 65, 82,
121 Radek, K. 99, Il6, Il7
New Zealand 73, 103, 128-9, Radischev, A. 46,47
134-41, 143 Rasputin 86
Nicholas I 53, 55 Reed, J. 166
Nicholas II 59, 76-90, 105, Revolution, American I, 23,
108, 143, 151 29, 47, 48, 169, 174-5, 185,
Nigeria 146 187, 189; Atlantic 23, 26,
Nikon 5,9 28-9, 48, 177; English I, 8,
Norway 4, 108, 121 18,19,41,55, Ill, 189; French
Noske, G. 115 I, 23-5, 28-30, 42-9, 55, 61,
Novikov, N. I. 46 82, 101, III; Russian passim
Richelieu 10, II, 189
Ordin-Nashchokin, A. 9 Rivera, D. 167
Osterman, F. A. 33, 38 Riza Khan 161
Osugi, S. 130 Rodwell, C. H. 141, 142
Oxenstierna 8 Roe, Sir Thomas 5
Roosevelt, F. D. 177
Paleologue, M. 106 Roosevelt, T. 72, 105
Palmer, A. M. 124 Root, E. 179
Panin, P. I. 32, 38 Rousseau 40
Pan-Arabism 161 Rowlatt, Justice 152
Pan-Islamism 147"':'8,161 Roy, M. N. 148, 150, 154, 155,
Pan-Turkism 158-9 187
Paton, J. 109 Rumania 97, 98, Il8, 119
Paul, Emperor 23, 47 Russell, Chairman 137
Persia 10, 22, 99, 102, 157-61 Russell, C. E. 135
Peter I, The Great 7, 9, 17, Russia, passim
20-2, 30, 51, 52,61, 143, 159, Sacco, N. 125
180 Sakai, Y. 107
224 INDEX
Samoa, Western 134 Uruguay 166-7

Scheidemann, P. 114, 116 United States of America 2,28,
Schmidt, Lieutenant 81, 157, 41, 50, 56, 58, 60, 62-73, 74,
158 89,99, 102, 104-5, 106, 123-5,
Scotland, see Great Britain 143, 151, 166, 169, 174-9,
Sen, K. 102 181-3, 185
Serrati, G. 108, 120
Shcherbatov, M. M. 42 Vanzetti, B. 125
Simonoff, P. 128 Vietnam 147
Singaravelu, C. 155 Volkonsky, M. N. 32, 33, 38,
Sneevliet, H. (alias Maring) 147 39
South Africa 103, 126-7, 143-4 Volkovsky, F. 103
Spain (including Habsburgs) 4, VoItaire 30, 40
5,9, 10, 12,72,99, 121
Speransky, M. 53
War, Crimean 56, 73; First
Stalin 180, 185, 189
World 84-5,86, 105-12, 148,
Stefansson, V. 133
150; Napoleonic 29,30;
Stein, H. von 53 Russo-Japanese 77, 79, 80,
Stolypin, P. A. 58, 83
82-3, 105, 149, 156; Seven
Sun Vat-sen 162, 165
Years 29; Thirty Years I,
Supan, A. 133 7, 8-12, 51
Sviatopolk-Mirsky, D. 77 Washington Conference 102,
Sweden 4-11, 19, 23, 26, 53,
131
185 Washington, G. 174-5
Switzerland 24, 99 Webb, J. 141
Sydenham, Lord 152 William I 57
William II 57, 106, 109, III,
Tagore, R. 148-9 112
Takabatake, M. 130 Williams, E. 177
Tannenbaum, F. 177 Wilson, W. 62, 72, 96, 99, 148
Tilak, B. G. 150 Wisdom, E. A. 143
Tocqueville, A. de 62-3, 183
Witte, S. 58, 59, 80
Tolstoy, L. 153 Wladyslaw IV 8-9
Tranmael, M. 108 Wolfe, B. 167
Troelstra, P. 121
Trotsky 60, 74-5, 76, 78, 80, 81,
90, 94, 97, 99, 100, 113, 125, Yamakawa, H. 130, 131
173, 188 Yanaga, C. 130
Turgot 25 Yuan Shi-kai 163
Turkey 4, 7, 9, 10, 18, 53, 58, Yugoslavia 119
102,119,151,153,156-61
Zetkin, C. 120
Uchida, Y. 129 Zinoviev, G. 99, 100, 101, 117
Uganda 188-9 Zog, I 119

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October and the World

Also by Paul Dukes

A History ofRussia: Medieval. Modern. Contemporary

First published 1979 by

Associated companies in Delhi Dublin

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Dukes, Paul, b. 1934

ISBN 978-0-333-18391-5 ISBN 978-1-349-16142-3 (eBook)

PART Two: The Russian Revolutions and Their Impact 74

PART THREE: Revolutions in Retrospect and Prospect 169

Notes and References 190

King's College, Old Aberdeen PAUL DUKES

The case is examined for considering Russia as an indirect partici-

untouched. Again, the customary interpretation of Western special-

In 1965 Christopher Hill wrote that some agreement had been

The study of Geography is both profitable and delightful:

And so Milton decided to follow a certain precedent3 in con-

All the peoples of Europe are co-operating among themselves,

Deficient in some of its details, this observation was correct in its

Avvakum's followers at a monastery near the White Sea are re-

Now must the miseries of Russia be augmented by the coming of

... a bad example, which the subjects of other sovereigns will

solely the result of a machinating Mazarin; the Netherlands had

What a complicated chain of inter-relations. Turkey because of

In conclusion Porshnev widens his argument to the Eurasian scale.

Of course, Russian conformity was not rigid. The military revo-

or Code of Laws, that it produced. Only then can we be in a position

In state conditions alien to all constitutional juridical forms, there

Of course, the tsar must not be looked at as a figure aloof from

The principal features of the social composition of the revolt of

At the request of your sovereign, King Charles, and because of our

If Cromwell swallowed this suggestion, the letter of intelligence said,

comparative remoteness of Central and Eastern Europe from the

on in the legends and songs of the Cossacks and peasants.

states, Switzerland, England and France all demonstrated economic

It is rare that men maintain ajuste milieu in the praise or blame of

Although Catherine's desire for favourable pUblicity became noto-

reason for this is palpable: the merchandise which is exported from

According to the figures provided by Marshall, which Palmer and

Tarle, Roger Portal:

The Russia of Catherine II, by virtue of the number of its factories

But, it will no doubt be asked, if Russia was not so backward in the

... my hearing was struck by a general rumour which suddenly

Moscow was at the time of the revolt a province consisting of eleven

as much as possible, if only with sharpened stakes. Everybody was to

... in case the affair should come to a battle, they should

Everybody knows that the name of the miscreant Pugachev has

This town is made up of all kinds of [ordinary] people, among

On the other hand, as R. R. Palmer has suggested, 'quotation, in

And since ... our name now flourishes in Russia, therefore We

These are hardly 'limited aims', in either scope or severity.

I cannot communicate the enthusiasm which was excited among

Catherine herself moved from a moderate suspicion to a complete

As a person ignorant of the facts, I simply ask questions, foresee-

In April 1792 she confessed to the same correspondent that 'I am