Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar

by Simon Sebag Montefiore

  Stalin was said to be lurking in a recessed gallery with darkened windows at the back where the orchestras once played for aristocratic quadrilles and whence puffs of pipe smoke were alleged to be emanating.

  On the 13th, six days before the trial began, Stalin departed by train for Sochi, after a meeting with Yezhov. It is a mark of the impenetrable secrecy of the Soviet system that it has taken over sixty years for anyone to discover that Stalin was actually far away, though he followed the legal melodrama almost as closely as if he had been listening to it in his office. Eighty-seven NKVD packages of interrogations plus records of confrontations and the usual pile of newspapers, memos and telegrams arrived at the wicker table on the veranda.

  Kaganovich and Yezhov checked every detail with Stalin. The protégé was now more powerful than his former patron—Yezhov signed his name ahead of Kaganovich in every telegram. While the will of the great actor-manager controlled all from afar, the two in Moscow doubled as PR-men and impresarios. On the 17th, Kaganovich and Yezhov reported to the Khozyain that “we’ve fixed the press coverage . . . in the following manner: 1. Pravda and Izvestiya to publish a page-length account of the trial daily.” On the 18th, Stalin ordered the trial to proceed next day.

  The accused were indicted with a fantastical array of often bungled crimes ordered by the shadowy conspiracy led by Trotsky, Zinoviev and Kamenev (“The United Trotskyite-Zinovievite Centre”) that had successfully killed Kirov but repeatedly failed to kill Stalin and the others (though never bothering with Molotov). For six days, they confessed to these crimes with a docility that amazed Western spectators.

  The language of these trials was as obscure as hieroglyphics and could only be understood in the Aesopian imagery of the closed Bolshevik universe of conspiracies of evil against good in which “terrorism” simply signified “any doubt about the policies or character of Stalin.” All his political opponents were per se assassins. More than two “terrorists” was a “conspiracy” and, putting together such killers from different factions, created a “Unified Centre” of astonishing global, indeed Blofeldian, reach: this reveals much about Stalin’s internal melodrama as well as about Bolshevik paranoia, formed by decades of underground life. 12

  While these crushed men delivered their lines, Procurator-General Vyshinsky brilliantly combined the indignant humbug of a Victorian preacher with the diabolical curses of a witch doctor. Small with “bright black eyes” behind horn-rimmed spectacles, thinning reddish hair, pointed nose, and dapper in “white collar, checked tie, well-cut suit, trimmed grey moustache,” a Western witness thought he resembled “a prosperous stockbroker accustomed to lunching at Simpson’s and playing golf at Sunning-dale.” Born into an affluent, noble Polish family in Odessa, Vyshinsky had once occupied a cell with Stalin with whom he shared hampers from his parents, an investment that may have saved his life. But as an ex-Menshevik, he was absolutely obedient and ravenously bloodthirsty: during the thirties, his notes to Stalin constantly propose shooting of defendants, usually “Trotskyites preparing the death of Stalin,” always ending with the words: “I recommend VMN—death by shooting.”

  Vyshinsky, fifty-three, was notoriously unpleasant to his subordinates but cringingly sycophantic to his seniors: he used the word “Illustrious” in his letters to Molotov and even Poskrebyshev (whom he cleverly cultivated). Even his subordinates found him a “sinister figure” who, regardless of his “excellent education,” believed in the essential rule of Stalinist management: “I believe in keeping people on edge,” but he was always on the edge himself, suffering bouts of eczema, living in fear and helping to breed it. Alert, vigorous, vain and intelligent, he impressed Westerners as much as he chilled them with his forensic mannerisms and vicious wit: it was he who later described the Romanians as “not a nation, but a profession.” He was very proud of his notoriety: presented to Princess Margaret in London in 1947, he whispered to the diplomat introducing them, “Please add my former title as Procurator in the famous Moscow trials.”13

  Every day, Yezhov and Kaganovich, who must have been listening to the trial in the “hospitality suite,” reported to Stalin on the proceedings like this: “Zinoviev declared that he confirms the depositions of Bakaiev on the fact that the latter had made a report to Zinoviev on the preparation of a terrorist act against Kirov...” They revelled in recounting to the actor-manager-playwright the successful “unfolding” of this theatrical piece.

  However, there was severe doubt among many of the journalists, exacerbated by the NKVD’s comical blunders: the court heard how Trotsky’s son, Sedov, ordered the assassinations in a meeting at the Hotel Bristol in Denmark—yet it emerged that the hotel had been demolished in 1917.

  “What the devil did you need the hotel for?” Stalin is said to have shouted. “You ought to have said ‘railway station.’ The station is always there.”14

  This show had a wider cast than the players actually onstage because others were carefully implicated, raising the prospect of other famous “terrorists” appearing in later trials. The defendants took great care to implicate a couple of military commanders and then both Leftists, such as Karl Radek, and Rightists, such as Bukharin, Rykov and Tomsky. Vyshinsky announced that he was opening new cases against these celebrated names.

  The members of this off-stage cast performed their roles very differently: the gifted journalist Karl Radek, a famous international revolutionary who cut an absurd figure with his round glasses, whiskers, pipe, leather boots and coats, had been close to Stalin during the early thirties, advising him on German politics. Writers always imagine they can write their way out of danger so Radek offered his pen to the Master. Now Stalin decreed that “although not very convincing, I suggest to delay for the moment the question of Radek’s arrest and to let him publish in Izvestiya a signed article . . .” Opportunities, even temporary indulgence towards old friends, could change Stalin’s meandering progress.91

  On the 22nd, the accused refused to plead for their defence. The Politburo—Kaganovich, Sergo, Voroshilov and Chubar—along with Yezhov, asked for instructions: “It’s not convenient to authorize any appeal,” Stalin retorted, at 11:10 the next night giving exact instructions on the press coverage of the sentences. Revealingly, the playwright thought the verdict required a little bit of “stylistic polishing.” Half an hour later, he wrote again, worrying that the trial would be regarded as just a “mise-en-scène.” 15

  Stalin’s spin doctors engineered public outrage against the terrorists. Khrushchev, rabid supporter of the trials and shootings, arrived one evening at the Central Committee to find Kaganovich and Sergo bullying the poet Demian Bedny to produce a blood-Curdling ditty for Pravda. Bedny recited his effort. There was an awkward pause:

  “Not what we had in mind, Comrade Bedny,” said Kaganovich. Sergo lost his temper and shouted at Bedny. Khrushchev glared at him.

  “I can’t!” protested Bedny, but he could. His “No Mercy” was published the next day, while Pravda shrieked: “Crush the Loathsome Creatures! The Mad Dogs Must Be Shot!”

  In the court, Vyshinsky summed up: “These mad dogs of capitalism tried to tear limb from limb the best of our Soviet land”—Kirov. “I demand that these mad dogs should be shot—every one of them!” The dogs themselves now made their pathetic pleas and confessions. Even seventy years later, they are tragic to read. Kamenev finished his confession but then rose again, obviously off-message, to plead for his children whom he had no other means of addressing: “No matter what my sentence will be, I in advance consider it just. Don’t look back,” he told his sons. “Go forward . . . Follow Stalin.”

  The judges withdrew to consider their pre-decided verdict, returning at two-thirty to sentence all to death, at which one defendant shouted: “Long live the cause of Marx, Engels, Lenin and Stalin!”16

  Back in prison, the scared “terrorists” shakily appealed for mercy, remembering Stalin’s promise to spare them. As Zinoviev and Kamenev waited in their cells, Stalin, waiting in sunny Soc
hi, received a telegram at 8:48 p.m. from Kaganovich, Sergo, Voroshilov and Yezhov who informed him that the appeal of the defendants had been received. “The Politburo proposed to reject the demands and execute the verdict tonight.”92 Stalin did not answer, perhaps congratulating himself on his imminent revenge, perhaps having dinner, but surely aware that the murder of two of Lenin’s closest comrades marked a giant step towards his next colossal gamble, an intense reign of terror against the Party itself, a slaughter that would consume even his own friends and family. Stalin waited for three long hours. 17

  PART FOUR

  Slaughter: Yezhov the Poison Dwarf 1937–1938

  17

  The Executioner: Beria’s Poison and Bukharin’s Dosage

  Minutes before midnight, Stalin sent this laconic telegram: “Okay.” 1 During the first hour of 25 August, a number of limousines cruised through the gates of the Lubianka prison, containing the officials to witness the executions.

  A dignified Kamenev and a feverish Zinoviev were led out of their cells and down the steps. Yezhov and Yagoda were accompanied by the ex-hairdresser, Pauker. Vyshinsky as Procurator-General was meant to attend important executions but was said to be so squeamish that he usually sent one of his chief investigators, Lev Sheinin. Mikoyan supposedly said that Voroshilov represented the Politburo.

  Stalin never attended torture or execution (though he witnessed a hanging as a child and must have observed violent death in Tsaritsyn) but he respected his executioners. Execution was officially called the “Highest Measure of Punishment,” usually shortened to the terrible letters “VMN” or the acronym Vishka, but Stalin called it “black work,” which he regarded as noble Party service. The master of “black work” under Stalin presided over this sombre but brisk ritual: Blokhin, a pugnacious Chekist of forty-one with a stalwart face and black hair pushed back, was one of the most prolific executioners of the century, killing thousands personally, sometimes wearing his own leather butcher’s apron to protect his uniform. Yet the name of this monster has slipped through history’s fingers.93 In the theatre of Stalin’s court, Blokhin henceforth lurks in the background, but is rarely offstage.2

  Zinoviev shouted that this was a “Fascist coup” and begged the executioners: “Please, comrade, for God’s sake, call Joseph Vissarionovich! Joseph Vissarionovich promised to save our lives!” Some accounts have him actually hugging and licking the Chekist’s boots. Kamenev reportedly answered: “We deserve this because of our unworthy attitude at the trial” and told Zinoviev to be quiet and die with dignity. Zinoviev made such a noise that an NKVD lieutenant took him into a nearby cell and despatched him there and then. They were shot through the back of the head.

  The bullets, with their noses crushed, were dug out of the skulls, wiped clean of blood and pearly brain matter, and handed to Yagoda, probably still warm. No wonder Vyshinsky found these events sickening. Yagoda labelled the bullets “Zinoviev” and “Kamenev” and treasured these macabre but sacred relics, taking them home to be kept proudly with his collection of erotica and ladies’ stockings.94 The bodies were cremated.

  Stalin was always fascinated by the conduct of his enemies at the supreme moment, enjoying their humiliation and destruction: “A man may be physically brave but a political coward,” he said. Weeks later, at a dinner to celebrate the founding of the Cheka, Pauker, Stalin’s comedian, acted the death and pleadings of Zinoviev. To the raucous guffaws of the Vozhd and Yezhov, plump, corseted and shiny-pated Pauker was dragged back into the room by two friends playing the role of guards. There he performed Zinoviev’s cries of “For God’s sake call Stalin” but improvised another ingredient. Pauker, a Jew himself, specialised in telling Stalin Jewish jokes in the appropriate accent with much rolling of “R”s and cringing. Now he combined the two, depicting Zinoviev raising his hands to the Heavens and weeping. “Hear oh Israel the Lord is our God, the Lord is one.”95 Stalin laughed so much that Pauker repeated it. Stalin was almost sick with merriment and waved at Pauker to stop.3

  Bukharin was hill climbing in the Pamirs when he read in the newspapers that he had been implicated in the Zinoviev trial. He frantically rushed back to Moscow. Bukharin had seemed forgiven for past sins. As the editor of Izvestiya, he had returned to prominence with frequent access to Stalin. In 1935, at a banquet, Stalin had even publicly toasted Bukharin: “Let’s drink to Nikolai Ivanovich Bukharin. We all love . . . Bukharchik. May whoever remembers the past, lose an eye!” Whether to preserve Bukharin for his own trial (after Tomsky’s suicide), because of a lingering fondness or just feline sadism, Stalin proceeded to play with beloved Bukharchik who waited anxiously in his Kremlin apartment.

  On 8 September, the Central Committee summoned Bukharin to a meeting with Kaganovich, where, along with Yezhov and Vyshinsky, he was amazed to encounter his childhood friend Grigory Sokolnikov, a venerable Old Bolshevik, who was delivered to the room by the NKVD. The “confrontation” was one of Stalin’s bizarre rituals in which, like an exorcism, Good was meant to confront and vanquish Evil. They were presumably designed to terrify the accused but also, and this may have been their main function, to convince the presiding Politburo members of the victim’s guilt. Kaganovich played impartial observer while Sokolnikov declared there was a Left-Right Centre, involving Bukharin, which was planning the murder of Stalin.

  “Can you have lost your reason and not be responsible for your own words?” Bukharin “turned on the tears.” When the prisoner was led out, Kaganovich boomed: “He’s lying, the whore, from beginning to end! Go back to the newspaper, Nikolai Ivanovich, and work in peace.”

  “But why is he lying, Lazar Moisevich?”

  “We’ll find out,” replied an unconvinced Kaganovich who still “adored” Bukharin but told Stalin his “role will yet be uncovered.” Stalin’s antennae sensed that the time was not right: on 10 September, Vyshinsky announced that the investigation against Bukharin and Rykov had been closed due to lack of criminal culpability. Bukharin returned to work, safe again, while the investigators moved on to their next trial—but the cat did not stop caressing the mouse.4

  Stalin remained on holiday, directing a series of parallel tragedies in his escalating campaign to eliminate his enemies while devoting much of his energy to the Spanish Civil War. On 15 October, Soviet tanks, planes and “advisers” started arriving in Spain to support the Republican government against General Francisco Franco, backed by Hitler and Mussolini. Stalin treated this less as a rehearsal for World War II and more as a replay of his own Civil War. The internecine struggle with the Trotskyites on his own side and the Fascists on the other created a war fever in Moscow, stoking up the Terror. Stalin’s real interest was to keep the war going as long as possible, embroiling Hitler without offending the Western powers, rather than helping the Republicans win. Furthermore, like an accomplished “barrow boy,” Stalin systematically swindled the Spanish of several hundred million dollars by rescuing their gold reserves and then tricking them into paying inflated prices for their arms.96

  Gradually, instructing Voroshilov in military, Kaganovich in political, and Yezhov in security matters by telephone from Sochi, he presided over the effective NKVD takeover of the Republic itself, where he found himself in a genuine struggle with the Trotskyites. He set about the liquidation of Trotskyites along with his own men. The Soviet diplomats, journalists and soldiers serving in Spain spent as much time denouncing one another as fighting the Fascists.

  After a short stay at the new little dacha built for him by Lakoba at Novy Afon (New Athos),97 to the south in Abkhazia right beside Alexander III’s monastery, Stalin returned to Sochi where he was joined by Zhdanov and President Kalinin. Yezhov was expanding the lists of suspects to include the whole of the old oppositions but also entire nationalities, particularly the Poles. Simultaneously he was pushing for the role of NKVD chief, attacking Yagoda for “complacency, passivity, and bragging,” in a letter that may have been sent to Stalin in a shameless job application: “Without your intervention, th
ings will come to no good.” Meanwhile Yagoda bugged Yezhov’s calls to Stalin, learning that Blackberry had been summoned to Sochi. Yagoda left immediately for Sochi, but when he arrived, Pauker turned him back from the gates of Stalin’s dacha.

  On 25 September, Stalin, backed by Zhdanov, decided to remove Yagoda and promote Yezhov: “We consider it absolutely necessary and urgent to appoint Comrade Yezhov to the post of People’s Commissar of Internal Affairs. Yagoda is not up to the task of exposing the Trotskyite-Zinovievite Bloc . . . Stalin, Zhdanov.”5

  Sergo visited the dacha to discuss Yezhov’s appointment and his own battles with the NKVD. Stalin felt he needed to win over Sergo to Yezhov’s appointment, even though Blackberry and his wife were family friends of Sergo. “This remarkably wise decision by our father suits the attitude of the Party and country,” Kaganovich wrote cheerfully to Sergo after he had sacked Yagoda and appointed him to Rykov’s job as Communications Commissar.

  There was relief at Yezhov’s appointment: many, including Bukharin, regarded it as the end of the Terror, not the beginning, but Kaganovich knew his protégé better: he praised Yezhov’s “superb . . . interrogations” to Stalin, suggesting his promotion to Commissar-General. “Comrade Yezhov is handling things well,” Kaganovich told Sergo. “He’s dispensed with the bandits of the counter-revolutionary Trotskyites in Bolshevik style.” The dwarfish Blackberry was now the second most powerful man in the USSR.6