The Russian Revolution

by Richard Pipes

  The march of events and the development of class war in the Revolution has produced a situation in which the slogan “All Power to the Constituent Assembly” … has, in effect, turned into a slogan of the Kadets, the followers of Kaledin, and their accomplices. It is becoming clear to the whole people that this slogan, in fact, means the struggle for the elimination of soviet authority and that the Constituent Assembly, if separated from soviet authority, would inevitably be condemned to political death.… Any attempt, direct or indirect, to view the question of the Constituent Assembly from a formal juridical point of view … signifies betrayal of the cause of the proletariat and a transition to the point of view of the bourgeoisie.

  Nothing in this argument made sense. The elections to the Assembly had taken place, not before October 26, but in the second half of November—that is, only seventeen days earlier: in the interim nothing had happened to invalidate Lenin’s verdict of December 1 that they were the “perfect” reflection of the people’s will. The principal champions of the Assembly were not the Kadets and certainly not the followers of the Cossack general Aleksei Kaledin, the latter of whom wanted to topple the Bolshevik regime by force of arms, but the Socialists-Revolutionaries. By turning out in large numbers at the polling stations, the “whole people,” on whose behalf Lenin claimed to speak, had shown, not that they regarded the Assembly as anti-Soviet, but looked to it with hope and expectation. And as for the claim that the Assembly was antithetical to the rule of the soviets, only people with very short memories could have forgotten that a mere seven weeks earlier, as they were reaching for power, the same Bolsheviks had insisted that soviet rule alone would guarantee the convocation of the Assembly. But here, as always, Lenin’s arguments were not meant to persuade: the key phrase occurred toward the end of the article, that further support for the Assembly was tantamount to treason.

  Lenin went on to say that the Assembly could meet only if the deputies were subject to “recall”—that is, if it consented to its composition being arbitrarily altered by the government—and if it further acknowledged, without qualifications, “Soviet authority”—that is, the Bolshevik dictatorship:

  Outside these conditions, the crisis connected with the Constituent Assembly can be solved only in a revolutionary manner by means of the most energetic, rapid, firm, and decisive measures on the part of Soviet authority.… Any attempt to tie the hands of Soviet authority in this struggle would signify complicity with the counterrevolution.

  On these terms, the Bolsheviks agreed to have the Assembly meet on January 5/18, 1918, provided that at least 400 deputies turned up. At the same time they issued instructions for the convocation three days later (January 8/21) of the Third Congress of Soviets.

  The Bolsheviks now launched a noisy propaganda campaign, the theme of which Zinoviev stated in a speech to the CEC on December 22: “We know very well that behind the pretext of the convocation of the Constituent Assembly, under the celebrated slogan ‘All Power to the Constituent Assembly,’ lies concealed the cherished slogan ‘Down with the Soviets.’ ”105 This proposition the Bolsheviks made official by having it adopted by the CEC on January 3, 1918.106

  The protagonists of the Assembly rallied their forces. They had been put on notice. But in seeking to counter Bolshevik threats, they suffered under a grievous, indeed fatal handicap. In their eyes, the Bolsheviks had subverted democracy and forfeited the right to govern: but their removal had to be accomplished by the pressure of popular opinion, never by force, because the only beneficiary of an internecine conflict among the socialist parties would be the “counterrevolution.” By December, Petrograd knew that on the Don the generals were assembling troops: their purpose could be nothing else but subverting the Revolution and arresting and perhaps lynching all socialists. This was to them a far worse alternative than the Bolsheviks, who were genuine, if misguided, revolutionaries: admittedly too impetuous, too lustful for power, too brutal, but still “comrades” in the same endeavor. Nor could one ignore their mass following. The democratic left was convinced then and in the years that followed that the Bolsheviks would sooner or later come to realize they could not govern Russia alone. Once this happened and the socialists were invited to share power, Russia would resume her progress toward democracy. This political maturation would take time, but it was bound to occur. For this reason, resistance to the Bolsheviks had to be confined to peaceful propaganda and agitation. The possibility that the Bolsheviks were perhaps the real counterrevolutionaries occurred only to a few left-wing intellectuals, mainly from the older generation. Socialist-Revolutionary and Menshevik leaders never ceased to view the Bolsheviks as deviant comrades in arms: they confidently awaited the time when they would come around. In the meantime, whenever the Bolsheviks came under the assault of outside forces, they could be depended on to rally to their side.

  The Union for the Defense of the Constituent Assembly now initiated its own propaganda campaign. It printed and distributed hundreds of thousands of newspapers and pamphlets107 to explain why the Assembly was not anti-Soviet and why it alone had the right to give the country a constitution. It staged demonstrations in the capital and the provincial cities calling for “All Power to the Constituent Assembly.” It sent agitators to barracks and factories to obtain the signatures of soldiers and workers, including those who had voted for the Bolsheviks, on appeals calling for upholding the Assembly. The SRs and Mensheviks who organized these activities along with trade unions and striking civil servants evidently hoped that evidence of massive support would inhibit the Bolsheviks from using force against the Assembly.

  A few socialists thought this was not enough: they came from the SR underground, and felt that only the methods used against tsarism—terror and street violence—would restore democracy. Their leader was Fedor Mikhailovich Onipko, an SR delegate from Stavropol and a member of the Military Commission of the Union for the Defense of the Constituent Assembly. Assisted by experienced conspirators, Onipko penetrated Smolnyi, planting there four operatives in the guise of officials and chauffeurs. Tracking Lenin’s movements and discovering that he slipped out of Smolnyi frequently to visit his sister, they placed in her house an agent posing as a janitor. Onipko wanted to kill Lenin and then Trotsky. The action was planned for Christmas day. But the SR Central Committee, which he asked for approval, absolutely refused to condone such action: if the SRs murdered Lenin and Trotsky, he was told they would be lynched by workers and only the enemies of the Revolution would benefit. Onipko was ordered to dissolve his terrorist group immediately.108 He obeyed, but some conspirators (among them Nekrasov, Kerensky’s closest associate) not connected with the SR Party carried out a clumsy attempt on Lenin’s life on January 1. They inflicted a slight wound on the Swiss radical Fritz Platten, who was riding with Lenin.109 After this incident, whenever he ventured out of Smolnyi, Lenin carried a revolver.

  78. F. M. Onipko.

  Onipko next sought to organize armed resistance against the anticipated Bolshevik assault on the Constituent Assembly. His plan, worked out with the Union for the Defense of the Constituent Assembly, called for a massive armed demonstration in front of Taurida on January 5 to intimidate pro-Bolshevik troops and ensure that the Assembly would not be dispersed. He managed to secure impressive backing. At the Preobrazhenskii, Semenovskii, and Izmailovskii Guard Regiments some 10,000 men volunteered to march, arms in hand, and fight if fired upon. Possibly as many as 2,000 workers, mainly from the Obukhov plant and the State Printing Office, agreed to join.

  Before setting its plans in motion, the Military Commission went back to the Central Committee of the SR Party for authorization. The Central Committee again refused. It justified its negative stand with vague explanations, all, in the ultimate analysis, grounded in fear. No one had defended the Provisional Government, it argued. Bolshevism was a disease of the masses which required time to overcome. This was no time for risky “adventures.”110

  The Central Committee reconfirmed its intention to hold on Ja
nuary 5 a peaceful demonstration: the troops would be welcome but they had to come without arms. The committee counted on the Bolsheviks not daring to open fire on the demonstrators out of fear of provoking another Bloody Sunday. When, however, Onipko and his aides returned to the barracks with the news and asked the soldiers to come unarmed, they met with derision:

  “Are you making fun of us, comrades?” they responded in disbelief. “You are asking us to a demonstration but tell us to come without weapons. And the Bolsheviks? Are they little children? They will for sure fire at unarmed people. And we: are we supposed to open our mouths and give them our heads for targets, or will you order us to run, like rabbits?”

  111

  The soldiers refused to confront Bolshevik rifles and machine guns with bare hands and decided to sit out January 5 in their barracks.

  The Bolsheviks, who got wind of these activities, took no chances and prepared for the decisive day as they would for battle. Lenin took personal command.

  The first task was to win over or at least neutralize the military garrison. Bolshevik agitators sent to the barracks did not dare attack directly the Constituent Assembly because of its popularity; instead they argued that “counterrevolutionaries” were trying to exploit the Assembly to liquidate the soviets. With this argument they persuaded the Finnish Infantry Regiment to pass a resolution rejecting the slogan “All Power to the Constituent Assembly” and agreeing to support the Assembly only if it cooperated closely with the soviets. The Volhynian and Lithuanian regiments passed similar resolutions.112 This was the extent of Bolshevik success. It appears that no military unit of any size would condemn the Constituent Assembly as “counterrevolutionary.” The Bolsheviks, therefore, had to rely on hastily organized units of Red Guards and sailors. But Lenin did not trust Russians and gave instructions for the Latvians to be brought in: “the muzhik may waver if anything happens,” he said.113 This marked still greater involvement of the Latvian Riflemen in the Revolution on the side of the Bolsheviks.

  On January 4, Lenin appointed N. I. Podvoiskii, the ex-chairman of the Bolshevik Military Organization, which had carried out the October coup in Petrograd, to constitute an Extraordinary Military Staff.114 Podvoiskii once again placed Petrograd under martial law and forbade public assemblies. Proclamations to this effect were posted throughout the city. Uritskii announced in Pravda on January 5 that gatherings in the vicinity of Taurida Palace would be dispersed by force if necessary.

  The Bolsheviks also sent agitators to the industrial establishments. Here they ran into hostility and incomprehension. In the largest factories—Putilov, Obukhov, Baltic, the Nevskii shipyard, and Lessner—workers had signed petitions of the Union for the Defense of the Constituent Assembly and could not understand why the Bolsheviks, with which many of them sympathized, had now turned against the Assembly.*

  As the decisive day approached, the Bolshevik press kept up a steady drumbeat of warnings and threats. On January 3, it informed the population that on January 5 workers were expected to stay in their factories and soldiers in their barracks. The same day Uritskii announced that Petrograd was in danger of a counterrevolutionary coup organized by Kerensky and Savinkov, who had secretly returned to Petrograd for that purpose.* 115Pravda carried a headline: TODAY THE HYENAS OF CAPITAL AND THEIR HIRELINGS WANT TO SEIZE POWER FROM SOVIET HANDS.

  On Friday, January 5, Petrograd, and especially the area adjoining Taurida Palace, resembled an armed encampment. The SR Mark Vishniak, who walked to Taurida in a procession of deputies, describes the sight that greeted his eyes:

  We began to move at noon, a spread-out column of some two hundred people, walking in the middle of the street. The deputies were accompanied by a few journalists, friends, and wives, who had obtained entry tickets to Taurida Palace. The distance to the palace did not exceed one kilometer: the closer one approached, the fewer pedestrians were to be seen and the more soldiers, Red Army men and sailors. They were armed to the teeth: guns slung over the shoulder, bombs, grenades, and bullets, in front and on the side, everywhere, wherever they could be attached or inserted. Individual passersby on the sidewalk, upon encountering the unusual procession, rarely greeted it with shouts: more often they followed it sympathetically with their eyes and then hurried on. The armed men approached, wanting to know who goes and where, and then returned to their stations and bivouacs.…

  The entire square in front of Taurida Palace was filled with artillery, machine guns, field kitchens. Machine gun cartridge belts were piled up pell-mell. All the gates to the palace were shut, except for a wicket gate on the extreme left, through which people with passes were let in. The armed guards attentively studied one’s face before permitting entry: they inspected one’s rear, felt the backside.… After going through the left door more controls.… The guards directed the delegates across the vestibule and Catherine’s Hall into the Assembly Hall. Everywhere there were armed men, mostly sailors and Latvians. They were armed, as those on the street, with guns, grenades, munition bags, and revolvers. The number of armed men and weapons, the sound of clanking, created the impression of an encampment getting ready either to defend itself or to attack.

  116

  The Bolshevik delegation, headed by Lenin, arrived at Taurida at 1 p.m. Lenin wanted to be on hand to make quick decisions as the situation unfolded. Sitting in what during the Duma period had been the “government loge,” he directed Bolshevik actions for the next nine hours. Bonch-Bruevich remembered him “excited and pale like a corpse.… In this extreme white paleness of his face and neck, his head appeared even larger, his eyes were distended and aflame, burning with a steady fire.”117 It was, indeed, a decisive moment in which the fate of the Bolshevik dictatorship hung in the balance.

  The Assembly was to open at midday, but Lenin, through Uritskii, refused to allow it to begin proceedings until he knew what happened outside, on the streets of Petrograd, where, in defiance of Bolshevik orders, a massive demonstration had been gathering all morning. Although its organizers stressed in their appeals that they intended it to be “peaceful” and confrontations were to be avoided,118 Lenin had no assurance that his forces would not fold at the first sign of mass resistance. He must have had a contingency plan in mind in the event the demonstrators overwhelmed his forces: the SR Sokolov believes that if that happened, Lenin intended to come to terms with the Assembly.119

  The Union instructed the demonstrators to gather by 10 a.m. at nine points in various parts of the city and from there proceed to the central gathering place, the Champs de Mars. At noon, they were to move in a body, under banners calling for “All Power to the Constituent Assembly,” along Panteleimon Street to Liteinyi Prospect, immediately turn right onto Kirochnaia Street, left on Potemkin Street, and right on Shpalernaia, which runs in front of Taurida Palace. After passing the palace, they were to turn right onto Taurida Street and proceed to Nevsky, where they were to disperse.

  The crowd which gathered that morning throughout Petrograd was impressive (some counted as many as 50,000 participants), but neither as large nor as enthusiastic as the organizers had hoped: the troops stayed in the barracks, fewer workers than expected turned up, with the result that the participants were mainly students, civil servants, and other intellectuals, all somewhat dispirited. Bolshevik threats and displays of force had made an impression.120

  Podvoiskii knew the route the procession was to take, since the organizers had widely advertised it, and deployed his men to bar its way. The forward detachment of his troops, with loaded guns and machine guns, deployed on the streets and rooftops at the point where Panteleimon Street run into Liteinyi. As the head of the procession approached this crossing, shouts went up—“Hurrah for the Constituent Assembly!”—whereupon the troops opened fire. Some demonstrators fell, others ran for cover. But they soon re-formed and continued on their way. Because more troops barred access to Kirochnaia Street, the demonstration proceeded along Liteinyi, running into volleys of gunfire as it was about to turn into Shpalernai
a. Here it broke up in disorder. Bolshevik soldiers pursued the demonstrators and seized their banners, tearing them to shreds or tossing them on bonfires. A different procession in another part of the city, composed mostly of workers, also met with gunfire. The same fate befell several smaller demonstrations.121

  Russian troops had not fired on unarmed demonstrators since the fateful day in February 1917 when they dispersed crowds defying prohibitions against public gatherings: violence then had sparked mutinies and riots that marked the onset of the Revolution. And before that was Bloody Sunday and 1905. Given these experiences, it was not unreasonable for the organizers of the demonstrations to assume that this massacre, too, would ignite nationwide protests. The victims—according to some accounts eight, according to others twenty-one122—received a solemn funeral on January 9, the anniversary of Bloody Sunday, and were buried at the Preobrazhenskii Cemetery, close by the casualties of that time. Worker delegations carried wreaths, one of which was inscribed: “To the victims of the arbitrariness of Smolnyi autocrats.”123 Gorky wrote an angry editorial in which he compared the violence to Bloody Sunday.*

  As soon as news reached him that the demonstrators had been dispersed and the streets were under Bolshevik control—this happened around 4 p.m.—Lenin ordered the meeting to begin. On hand were 463 deputies, slightly more than one-half of those elected, among them 259 SRs, 136 Bolsheviks, and 40 Left SRs.† From the opening bell, the Bolshevik deputies and armed guards jeered and booed non-Bolshevik speakers. Many of the armed men who filled the corridors and the balcony did not have to force themselves to behave raucously, for they had helped themselves to the vodka generously dispensed at the buffet. The minutes of the Assembly open with the following scene: