by Prit Buttar
There were also significant food shortages in Vilnius, and on 31 October, allegations that Jewish shopkeepers were hoarding bread resulted in an eruption of anti-Jewish violence. Many Jewish shops were looted, and several Jews were badly beaten, but elsewhere there were demonstrations in favour of the Soviets and against the Lithuanians. Much of the violence against Jews came from the Polish community, and continued for several days. The Jewish community was critical of the recently arrived Lithuanian police force in the city, which intervened late and often ineffectively; their task was not helped by the fact that few police officers spoke Yiddish or Polish, or by their poor grasp of the layout of the city.
The Latvian Jewish community was also coming under increasing suspicion. At the outset of the Bolshevik Revolution, the industrialised heartland of Latvia was a fertile recruiting ground for communism, and Latvians formed a disproportionally large proportion of the Soviet Communist Party, partly due to the large numbers of ethnic Latvians who lived inside Russia itself. In the late 1930s, Stalin’s paranoia of any he regarded as having questionable loyalty to the Soviet Union – and to himself in particular – led to a series of ‘national operations’ by the NKVD. The Latvian Operation resulted in thousands of ethnic Latvians being deported to Siberia, and over 16,000 were executed. Despite this, the Soviets encouraged Latvian Jews, as well as ethnic Russians in Latvia, to regard the Soviet troops as their best protection against both the Germans and the Latvians themselves. The Ulmanis government policy of ‘Latvia for Latvians’ was unequivocally nationalistic, but it was also combined with strong measures to prevent violence against Jews. Nevertheless, Soviet agitators now set to work, persuading large parts of the Jewish community that Latvia was only marginally less anti-Semitic than Germany.
In February 1940, the Red Army finally began to get the upper hand over its tough Finnish opponents, and with a satisfactory end to the Winter War in sight, Stalin returned his attention to the Baltic States. The Soviet envoys to the three states attended a conference in Moscow, where they were instructed to increase political activity.23 Of the three states, Estonia represented the fewest opportunities for the Soviet agitators to play one ethnic group against another. Whilst the policy of forcing the Baltic States to accept mutual assistance treaties in the autumn of 1939 had started with Estonia and had then moved south, there were good reasons for further progress occurring in the opposite direction. Firstly, there were far more opportunities to set different ethnic communities against each other in Latvia and Lithuania, and secondly, securing the southern countries first would create a barrier to any refugee traffic.
In Latvia, the Soviet ambassador Ivan Zotov had for several years sent a steady stream of reports back to Moscow about the pro-Soviet sentiment not only of Jews, but of other urban dwellers, particularly the Russian and Belarusian minorities. To a large extent, these reports were influenced as much by what Zotov thought Stalin wished to hear as by the reality on the ground.24 The urban working classes were in favour of closer cooperation and even union with the Soviet Union, Zotov stated in several telegrams; and he claimed that the rural population, too, was unhappy with the Ulmanis regime.25 Zotov was not alone in sending misleading information. One of his colleagues, Ivan Cechaev, sent a report detailing the possibilities of establishing a communist underground movement in eastern Latvia, and sought to portray the Ulmanis government as a fascist dictatorship that held the Latvians back from their desire to join the Soviet Union. Colonel Vasiliev, the military attaché to the Soviet Embassy in Riga, reported in May 1939: ‘The workers are of the opinion that the Red Army will enter the territory in the near future. The intelligentsia think thus: better the Soviet forces than the Germans … the majority of the workers support a direct union of Latvia to the Soviet Union.’26
The reality was very different. For a few brief months during the Latvian war of independence, much of Latvia had been under Bolshevik control, and there had been widespread arrests and killings, usually with minimal or no judicial process, of those perceived as hostile to the Bolsheviks. Although large numbers of Latvians had originally been supporters of the Bolsheviks, many of these changed their opinion after these killings, while other Bolshevik sympathisers chose to leave Latvia as the Red Army retreated. The policies of Ulmanis following his victory in the post-war elections and during his years of dictatorial rule during the 1920s and 1930s had resulted in a remarkable increase in living standards throughout Latvia, further undermining support for radical changes. In particular, the land reforms introduced by Ulmanis during the 1920s were an effective answer to many of the long-held grievances of the rural population, and in any event, Soviet attempts to introduce collectivised farming in those parts of the Baltic States that the Bolsheviks had controlled during the wars of independence were not remembered with any fondness.
How much Stalin was aware of the exaggeration and – on some occasions – complete fabrication of information from Latvia and the other Baltic States is open to question. The experience of the Latvians during their war of independence had certainly left strong anti-German feelings, but this was matched by an equally strong anti-Soviet sentiment. However, there were still large bodies of communist sympathisers, despite the banning of the Latvian Communist Party. Significantly, Jews formed a disproportionately large percentage of these sympathisers. A report of the Latvian Ministry of the Interior in 1929 stated that 50 per cent of the membership of the banned Communist Party and 60 per cent of the Latvian youth organisation Komjautnatne, equivalent to the Soviet Komsomol, were Jewish.27 The Soviet authorities were keen to exploit any tension between the nationalist Ulmanis regime and minority populations, both Jewish and Russian, and even as the Riga government was being forced into accepting a mutual assistance treaty, Zotov reported to Moscow:
The dreadful poverty of the Jewish residents is striking. About a third of the Jewish population depend on voluntary organisations … in recent times, Jews have been increasingly subject to legal proceedings on negligible evidence. The state machinery promotes anti-Semitism in the workplace … for economic and political reasons and [out of a sense of] national humiliation, the Jewish workers follow the development of the USSR with interest and affection. They express their sympathy for a land with no nationalistic hatreds or differences, and where the brotherhood of workers is an everyday fact.28
As time passed, there were frequent pro-Soviet demonstrations in Latvian cities and towns, but it is questionable how well these represented the sentiments of the majority. There were particularly large demonstrations in the summer of 1940 in Riga, but it seems that the majority of those involved were either ethnic Russians or Jews.29
The situation in Lithuania was particularly complicated. The Anglo-French alliance, which had ostensibly declared war on Germany to protect Poland, was unable to accept the transfer of the Vilnius region to Lithuania. In an attempt to avoid embarrassment, the French asked the Lithuanians not to mention the issue, and in return did not raise it themselves. Although the Lithuanian leadership hoped for and expected a victory by the Western Powers over Germany, they were constantly reminded by Moscow that Vilnius had been returned to Lithuania by the Soviets on two occasions, the first at the end of the Lithuanian war of independence, the second following the fall of Poland. By contrast, Molotov maintained, the Western Powers had done nothing to help Lithuania. Throughout the winter of 1939–40, the Soviets repeatedly obstructed Lithuanian government attempts to establish better trade links with the Western Powers and encouraged closer cooperation with Germany, whilst simultaneously stating, both publicly and in private, that they were not meddling with Lithuanian affairs. Such a policy reflected the attitude of Moscow to the arrangements with Germany: whilst Stalin and others might regard the Pact as a temporary expedient, they behaved – in trade matters, at least – as if they intended to respect it fully. Speaking to the Supreme Soviet at the end of October, Molotov stressed that the pacts with the three Baltic States did not constitute any interference in internal
matters. The resolution of the Vilnius question, he stressed, demonstrated the noble principles of Soviet foreign policy. Shortly after, Molotov wrote to Nikolai Pozdniakov, the Soviet ambassador to Lithuania, forbidding all Soviet officials from getting involved in any political activity within Lithuania: ‘The least effort of any of you to mix into the internal affairs of Lithuania will incur the strictest punishment of the guilty person … it is necessary to reject gossip about the “Sovietisation” of Lithuania as provocative and harmful.’30
Publicly, Lithuanian officials made repeated favourable comments about the new relationship with the Soviet Union. In private, they were less certain of the future. From February 1940, Augustinas Povilaitis, the head of the Lithuanian security service, had regular secret meetings with a Gestapo agent, supplying the Germans with detailed information about the Soviet bases in Lithuania. Details of their discussions are controversial, as Povilaitis was extensively interrogated by the Soviets, and the account of this interrogation clearly shows a man who was increasingly desperate to placate his interrogators. As one Lithuanian historian commented, ‘Povilaitis’ interrogators just had to want it, and he would have confessed to having dug a tunnel from Kaunas to Vilnius.’31
Meanwhile, domestic problems abounded for all three Baltic States. Germany effectively blocked their lucrative pre-war trade with Britain and the west, while offering little in return. Responsibility for the costs of the Soviet garrisons had not been defined in the mutual aid pacts, and Soviet authorities frequently refused to pay bills for goods received by the garrisons, complaining that the amounts were exaggerated. In February 1940, the deteriorating economic situation led to a wave of strikes in Lithuania; although Smetona publicly blamed this on communist agitators, he was aware that in reality the Lithuanian Communist Party remained small and relatively weak, whereas the financial difficulties facing all Lithuanians were very real.
It is not known for certain when Stalin decided to act to occupy the Baltic States, but it seems likely that a firm decision was made in the spring of 1940, perhaps as late as the last week of May. By this time, German troops had already moved to occupy Denmark and Norway, The Netherlands had fallen, and German armour had reached the English Channel. Estonian diplomats in Moscow were convinced that events in Western Europe precipitated a move by the Soviet Union to secure complete control of the Baltic States before Hitler might choose to reconsider the previously agreed ‘spheres of influence’.32 Stalin had hoped that Hitler would become embroiled in a prolonged war in the west, greatly reducing his strength and ability to attack the Soviet Union. He was therefore alarmed by the inability of the Western Allies to put up significant resistance to the German advance, and concluded that he would have to take whatever measures were necessary to secure his own frontiers. The first inkling of coming events was when Soviet tanks stationed in the Vilnius region were ordered to move to Gaižūnai, closer to Kaunas – which had been the ‘temporary capital’ of Lithuania while Vilnius was under Polish control, and remained the seat of government despite its return – on 18 May. A week later, Molotov summoned the Lithuanian ambassador, Ladas Natkevičius, and handed him a note alleging that Lithuanians working for or with the protection of the Lithuanian government were luring Soviet soldiers into criminal activities. The nature of these activities was not given, though it was implied that two soldiers had been kidnapped. Molotov concluded that he was sure that the Lithuanian government would take appropriate measures, and that the Soviet government would not be forced to take further steps itself.
Earlier in the month, Natkevičius had informed the Soviet authorities about the suicide of a Soviet soldier in Lithuania, but he knew of no other incidents involving the Soviet garrisons in his country. Nor did anyone in Kaunas. On 27 May, Smetona’s prime minister, Antanas Merkys, rejected the Soviet allegations as unfounded, but ordered the creation of a commission to investigate further.
The Lithuanian government now found itself drawn into an increasingly Kafkaesque world, in which it found itself unable to determine the exact nature of the charges it faced. Urbšys asked if the Lithuanian commission could speak to the Soviet soldiers involved in the allegations, but was told that they were not available, as they were undergoing treatment for the harm they had suffered. Even more surreal was Molotov’s reaction to requests for more information about the exact nature of the allegations: he told the baffled Lithuanians that the Lithuanians could not expect the Soviet authorities to do their work for them, and should sort the matter out themselves. In early June, nearly 300 Lithuanians suspected of a variety of crimes around the Soviet garrison areas were arrested, but none were found to have been involved in anything that could be linked to the Soviet allegation. An attempt to increase security around the Soviet garrisons backfired; the Soviets now complained that the Lithuanians were harassing the garrisons, even preventing laundry from being collected and delivered. The Lithuanians were also accused of conspiring with the Latvians and Estonians to create an anti-Soviet alliance. It was certainly true that the three countries had discussed mutual defence in the winter, but the reality was that there were already more Soviet troops stationed on their territory than their combined armies. Any united anti-Soviet position was untenable.
On 4 June, Merkys was summoned to Moscow. On 7 June, Molotov informed him that the Soviet authorities believed that the Lithuanian Minister of the Interior, Kazys Skučas, and Augustinas Povilaitis were behind the anti-Soviet acts, which still remained nebulous. Povilaitis was of course the head of the Lithuanian security services, and had been holding regular meetings with a Gestapo agent. Talks continued, moving steadily away from the vague charges of interfering with the Soviet garrisons and towards Soviet demands for a restructuring of the Lithuanian government. Any attempt by the Lithuanians to return to the nature of the accusations was deflected by Molotov, who invariably responded by accusing the Lithuanians of anti-Soviet activity. Finally, late on 14 June, Molotov made his final demand. The only way to resolve the situation was for the Lithuanians to place Skučas and Povilaitis under arrest, and to create a new government that would be more friendly to the Soviet Union. Also, Lithuania would have to accept more Soviet troops on its territory. A deadline of 1000hrs the following day was given, with the threat that Soviet troops would then enter Lithuanian territory even in the absence of any agreement.
The immediate reaction of the Lithuanians was that they had no grounds to arrest Skučas and Povilaitis. Molotov replied that they should arrest them anyway, and find appropriate charges afterwards.33 If they were unable to do so, he said, the Soviet authorities would help them find suitable charges. The Lithuanian government argued throughout the night. Smetona wanted to resist, even if such resistance served only a symbolic role, but he was in a minority. Finally, they came to the only conclusion possible: they would accept Soviet terms. Merkys resigned, Smetona announced that he would leave the country, and Stasis Raštikis was asked to form a new government.
When the Lithuanian Foreign Minister advised Molotov of these developments the following day, he was stunned by the Soviet response. Molotov rejected the suggestion that Raštikis should be the new prime minister, and told Urbšys that he would send Vladimir Dekanozov, a Deputy Commissar for Foreign Affairs, to Kaunas to supervise the creation of a new government. Soviet troops began to move into Lithuania later in the day. The arrival of Soviet troops in Kaunas was greeted by noisy demonstrations, mainly in support. Lithuanian historians have repeatedly maintained that these demonstrations were made almost entirely by the Jewish population, but Soviet accounts naturally maintained that many of those who greeted them with flowers were Lithuanians. Nevertheless, there was a widespread acceptance at the time that the Jews were more enthusiastic about Soviet occupation than they had ever been about Lithuanian nationalism. A report by the Lithuanian security service made observations that were shared by many others:
When the USSR army marched into Lithuania, the Jews began to express their arrogance. It happened that an ir
responsible element of Jewish society, mostly youths, walked the streets of the cities and would not even yield the sidewalks for walking Lithuanians to pass. Also, there are Lithuanian complaints that the Jews are declaring in threatening form: ‘Now we are the lords.’34
Smetona left Kaunas before the Soviets arrived. He issued himself a visa to Germany and crossed the border later that day; there was a moment of farce when Lithuanian border guards refused to allow him to leave Lithuania, and he finally entered Germany by wading through a shallow stream. He had repeatedly investigated the possibility of fleeing to Germany ever since the enforced mutual assistance treaty of the previous year, and left Lithuania with several important documents and a large amount of cash. Despite allegations that he siphoned off government funds, later investigation has suggested that the money was his own.35 He eventually travelled on to the United States. He lived there until his death in a house fire in January 1944.