Ramon Mercader, captivated by revolutionary zeal since his youth in Spain, was also in the grip of the Soviet special services, and would remain so until the end of his life. His full name was Jaime Ramon Mercader del Rio Hernandez. One of the most interesting books on him is by Isaac Don Levine, entitled The Man Who Killed Trotsky,136 and I have also learnt much about him from David Semenovich Zlatopolsky, who with his wife, Conchita Brufau, was close to Mercader during his Moscow period. The testimony of Ramon’s brother Luis, who became a professor at Madrid University, is also revealing.137 The most complete information, however, on this victim of Stalinism comes from Sudoplatov and the secret files of the OGPU’s Foreign Section.
Sudoplatov described Mercader as highly intelligent and strong-willed, fanatically convinced of the historic justification of the cause to which he had devoted his life. Either his grandfather or great-grandfather had been Spanish ambassador to St Petersburg, while his mother’s father had been the Governor of Cuba. Ramon’s mother, Eustacia Maria Caridad del Rio, was an impulsive, energetic, determined woman. During the Spanish civil war, as the young mother of five sons—Jorge, Pablo, Ramon, Monserrat and Luis—she had left her devout husband, joined the Communist Party and become an agent of the NKVD. The Soviet Resident at the time was Alexander Orlov and his deputy was Naum Eitingon. From this moment Eitingon became closely associated with Caridad and her son Ramon, recognizing the reliability and determination of the young officer of the Republican army. It was from this time also that Mercader became a secret agent of the NKVD. The alias Frank Jacson was acquired when the NKVD special laboratory in Moscow gave him a fabricated passport concocted from the documents of a Canadian volunteer who had died in Spain.
Ramon’s younger brother Luis associates Ramon’s fate with the character of their mother, a beautiful and adventurous woman who exerted a powerful influence over her son. It was these chief players that Eitingon prepared to act out the last scene of Trotsky’s life. No money was spared. To return to Moscow with empty hands would have meant for Eitingon the same fate as that of Shpigelglas. It was not open to him to disappear into thin air, as Orlov had done: his sense of duty was too strong. He told Ramon: ‘You must carry out the sentence.’ According to Luis, who spent nearly forty years in the USSR and personally knew Kalinin, Beria, Kobulov, Sudoplatov and Eitingon, the whole operation cost not less than $5 million.
Mercader, having settled in Mexico, invited Sylvia to join him, and at the beginning of 1940 she soon fixed herself up as a secretary to Trotsky, her sister Ruth Agelof having held the same position earlier. Trotsky liked the modest, plain young woman, who was extremely helpful to him. When Eitingon found out that Sylvia was going to work for Trotsky, he was delighted: the penetration had begun.
Sylvia and Ramon lived together at the Hotel Montejo, and Ramon would take her to work in his elegant Buick. As a smartly dressed businessman, he would get out of the car, open the door for her, help her out, kiss her cheek and wave an affectionate goodbye. Often he would also pick her up after work. The guards at Trotsky’s villa soon grew accustomed to Sylvia’s tall, handsome lover, and gradually they accepted him as one of their own. On one occasion he gave the Rosmers a lift into town, and they afterwards told Trotsky that Sylvia had ‘a very sympathetic fiancé’. It was with Marguerite Rosmer’s help that Ramon finally managed to enter the fortress. The guests from France had returned from a shopping expedition and asked him to help them carry their packages into the house. Once there, he was able to confirm what he had learnt from the female Soviet agent who was already in place about the disposition of the rooms, the doors, the outside alarms, the locks, etc.
At first the young Spaniard did not expect that he would have to bloody his own hands with the murder of Trotsky, but on 26 or 27 May 1940, a few days after the unsuccessful attempt on Trotsky’s life, Eitingon closeted himself with Mercader and made clear how things stood. It was impressed on him that he would be merely ‘carrying out a just sentence’ issued in Moscow, and that this enormous honour would make him a hero forever. Mercader could not disobey. He had already seen in Spain how disobedience could end. When one of his Republican acquaintances was suspected in Catalonia of connections with the POUM, he disappeared without trace. Mercader had learned that this was the law of the revolution: the weak and unreliable are liquidated.
Like Sudoplatov and Eitingon, all the other participants in the operation expected a successful outcome. Eitingon conducted the uninterrupted psychological preparation of his agent. He managed to convince Ramon not only that the action was possible, but also reminded him that ‘Mexico is the ideal country for an act of vengeance. They don’t even have the death penalty. But you should know that if you don’t manage to escape we will save you. Absolutely!’ Mention of the death penalty must have sent a chill down Ramon’s spine, but the psychological massage did its work. After a brief depression in June, he took heart and began energetically preparing himself for the ‘action’.
Eitingon, a member of his team called Rabinovich, and Mercader met on several occasions to make plans and discuss details. Naum Isaakovich Eitingon had enormous experience. It is not generally known that he had worked in Shanghai with the Comintern agent Richard Sorge, or that he had controlled the activities of the British spy Kim Philby, as well as other Soviet agents. It was Eitingon who carried the greatest risk: one more failure and he would be summoned to Moscow and his inevitable doom. But it was Ramon who was the most tormented. He had seen Trotsky, spoken with him, met the Rosmers and Natalya, and they had all treated him in a friendly and sympathetic way. And this was how he would repay them?
Some time before Trotsky met his killer, he had had intimations of his impending death. Before the attack on 24 May he decided to write his last will. Above all he wanted to leave his supporters and friends posthumous guidance, and to let later generations know that he had remained true to the Idea. Half of the testament is devoted to his wife and the other half to the political struggle. Not his homeland, not the Fourth International, not even Seva, his grandson, figure: only two names occur, Natalya and Stalin.
First published in 1958 in Trotsky’s Diary in Exile, the testament was written in three parts, two on 27 February 1940, and a personal addendum on 3 March. Characteristically, Trotsky reaffirmed his dedication to revolutionary ideas: ‘For forty-three years of my conscious life I have remained a revolutionist; for forty-two of them I have fought under the banner of Marxism. If I had to begin all over again I would of course try to avoid this or that mistake, but the main course of my life would remain unchanged. I shall die a proletarian revolutionist, a Marxist, a dialectical materialist, and, consequently, an irreconcilable atheist. My faith in the communist future of mankind is not less ardent, indeed it is firmer today, than it was in the days of my youth.’ On 3 March he added: ‘But whatever may be the circumstances of my death I shall die with unshaken faith in the communist future. This faith in man and in his future gives me even now such power of resistance as cannot be given by any religion.’138
We have already seen how much Trotsky loved his second wife. Nearly fifty letters from him to her in the Houghton Library offer poignant testimony to this. The episode with Frida Kahlo was entirely out of character and rather confirmed the steadfastness of his love for one woman. What he writes about Natalya in his testament is tender and full of meaning. Having thanked his friends for remaining loyal at the most difficult moments of his life, he did not wish to name or single out any individual: ‘My high (and still rising) blood pressure is deceiving those near me about my actual condition. I am active and able to work but the outcome is evidently near.’ He believed he would die of a brain haemorrhage, and even hoped for such an end: ‘If the sclerosis should assume a protracted character … then I reserve the right to determine for myself the time of my death. The “suicide”, if such a term is appropriate in this connection, will not in any respect be an expression of an outburst of despair or hopelessness. Natasha and I said more than once that
one may arrive at such a physical condition that it would be better to cut short one’s own life, or, more correctly, the too-slow process of dying.’139
Even after the attack in May Trotsky continued to scrutinize and analyse the world situation. In his last months he wrote a great deal about the war, predicting that Hitler, who had built his state on racial principles, and Stalin, who had built his on class principles, must inevitably clash. Trotsky must have asked himself on more than one occasion how Hitler, with his advocacy of the master-race, differed from Stalin, who continued to assert the old Marxist postulate of class leadership. Yet in placing the two leaders on the same level, Trotsky could not bring himself to attack the ‘leading role’ of the proletariat. Indeed, in the Manifesto of the Fourth International, which he wrote and which was approved at a special conference two days after the 24 May attack, it was plainly stated: ‘The essence of our programme can be expressed in two words: proletarian dictatorship.’140 Without this formula the entire programme of world revolution would have collapsed. Trotsky linked the two dictators by their shared criminal mentality, but it never occurred to him that for millions of Soviet citizens Stalinism was not an anomaly, but something that had grown organically out of Marxism and Leninism, adapted to fit the needs of the day.
Throughout this period, despite his illness and the atmosphere of tension around the house, Trotsky continued to engage in businesslike correspondence with the organization. His letters continued to examine methods of bringing his anti-Stalinist ideas to the Soviet people. The question arises of whether Trotsky wished for a Soviet defeat in the war. Perhaps for him the removal of Stalin superseded the national interest? It was not so simple. In the programme of the Fourth International he wrote: ‘For us the defence of the Soviet Union coincides in principle with preparing the international proletarian revolution. We utterly reject the theory of socialism in one country as the ignorant and reactionary brainchild of Stalinism. Only the international revolution can save the USSR for socialism. But the international revolution will bring inescapable death to the Kremlin oligarchy.’ The line of Trotsky’s thinking is clear: the Soviet Union must be defended in order to save the world revolution, which itself would remove Stalin and his regime. He wanted to imbue Soviet public opinion with these ideas, but meanwhile, as he himself wrote, part of the published Trotskyist literature ‘should be kept on the shelf. Trotsky never realized that the idea of carrying out a revolution against Stalin on the wave of a Nazi invasion was Utopian.
Trotsky was disquieted by the internal problems that afflicted the American Socialist Workers Party, which was a major element in the Fourth International, and in which a split had occurred. The majority, led by James Cannon, continued to support Trotsky, while the minority, led by Trotsky’s old personal friends Shachtman and Burnham, had for practical purposes split both with Trotskyism and traditional Marxism altogether. Shachtman’s defection was especially hurtful, as Trotsky had considered him his loyal pupil. It is worth noting that splits, factional squabbles, mutual recrimination and intellectual dissension had characterized the Trotskyist movement from the outset, much as it had the Russian revolutionary movement of an earlier generation. This mutual irreconcilability is explained by the profound internal inconsistency of the movement in general. Trotsky had declared intellectual war on virtually everyone: on the bourgeoisie, on social democracy, and on Stalinism. He did not change the point of view he had expressed in 1931, when he said: ‘The struggle with social democracy is the struggle with the democratic wing of imperialism.’141 Many of Trotsky’s supporters believed the main thrust of his strategy was the struggle with Stalinism, and that the rest of his targets were mere appendages.
After the death of Lev, the links with Paris were somewhat weakened. Letters from Estrin and Zborowski continued to arrive, along with the books and magazines Trotsky requested, but when Lev died something inside Trotsky himself snapped. When Estrin came out to Mexico Trotsky and Natalya sat for a whole evening and listened as their friend talked about Lev, reliving the tragedy of his death.142
Zborowski meanwhile continued to seek permission to come to Mexico,143 but Trotsky felt no need for new people. He was tired of visitors, tired of the danger and tired of the struggle. Almost every day he would assemble a pile of documents and in agony try to write something new about Stalin, but he had written so much about him already, one article much like the other, that he felt he could produce little that was original. The book on Stalin was going slowly, partly also because very little information was coming out of the USSR. Apart from what he could glean from the fabrications of Pravda—a month after they had appeared—and the radio broadcasts from Moscow, which were barely audible, there was almost no information. In the forty-three months that Trotsky had lived in Mexico he did not know that Stalin had become a real earthly god, and that blind adoration of him had virtually become the chief feature of Soviet public life. The situation had gone so far that shortly before his own removal, Yezhov, referring to ‘countless requests from workers’, could propose the unthinkable: his department prepared a draft decree of the Supreme Soviet renaming Moscow as Stalinodar. The draft was sent to the Politburo and the Praesidium of the Supreme Soviet. Stalin, however, was cautious and no fool, and did not agree to the proposal.144 Instead he concentrated on perfecting punitive measures against his enemies on all sides. Almost every day he confirmed hundreds of lists of names of those considered ‘Trotskyists’ and condemned as ‘first category’, i.e. to death. On 12 December 1938 alone, Stalin and Molotov sanctioned the shooting of 3167 people.145 Trotsky was cut off from much that was happening in his homeland, and he knew that angry abuse would not by itself save his last book. Anxiously he delved into the newspapers and urged his supporters to find factual material about the regime.
While he was trying to consolidate his movement and lead it in the right direction, the Moscow group of Chekists in Mexico was not idle. From all of the available evidence—Sudoplatov, the trial proceedings of Mercader, Natalya’s memoirs, the evidence of the Mexican chief of police, of Trotsky’s secretary Joe Hansen, and more—it is possible to trace step by step Eitingon’s chief task, the penetration of Mercader into Trotsky’s circle.
Mercader-Jacson first entered the house some time at the end of April 1940, when he helped Marguerite and Alfred Rosmer take their bags to their room, returning at once to his car. On 28 May, shortly before the departure of the Rosmers, Mercader was invited to dinner as ‘Sylvia’s friend’ who would drive them to their ship. At the Rosmers’ request Mercader was brought into the dining room, accompanied on Trotsky’s orders by Harold Robins, who was in charge of security.
On 12 June 1940, before leaving for New York ‘at the command of his firm’s boss’, Mercader entered the house to ask Trotsky if he might leave his Buick in the yard during his absence.
On 29 July, Natalya invited Sylvia and Ramon for a chat about their future over a cup of tea. Natalya was sure they would get married, and she talked with tact and humour about family life and its diversions.
On 1 August, Ramon drove Sylvia and Natalya on a shopping expedition to the city centre. On their return, he carefully carried the packages and bundles into the house and deposited them where Natalya indicated. He left at once, mentioning urgent business.
On 8 August, giving no obvious reason for the visit, Mercader appeared with a bouquet of flowers and a box of sweets. In conversation with Trotsky, he said he would gladly take him on an excursion into the mountains. Trotsky thanked him, but made no commitment.
On 11 August, coming to collect Sylvia after dinner, Mercader did not wait for her at the car, but came into the house. The guards regarded this as normal, as he had become such a familiar face. The couple soon left the house and drove away.
On 17 August, the new ‘friend of the house’ arrived uninvited and asked Trotsky for a few minutes of his time. He wanted him to look over an article he had written in which he criticized those, like Burnham, who were attacking Trotskyism.
The conversation was brief and Mercader left. For some reason he had been wearing a dark suit and carrying a raincoat, although it had been hot.
It appears that Mercader was in the house about ten times, apparently with no definite plan of action. He may have wanted to confirm the interior lay-out for himself, but we now know it had already been revealed to him by the female agent.
There would be one more fateful visit. It took place at 5 p.m. on Tuesday 20 August 1940. The description of the last day of Trotsky’s life is best left to his widow. The morning post had brought news that at last Trotsky’s manuscripts had been received safely at Harvard. Their despatch had had the character of an undercover operation, as Trotsky was so concerned for their safety, and he was also pleased with the $15,000 the university had paid him for the privilege of keeping his papers.
Trotsky usually fed his rabbits and chickens at around eight in the morning. Natalya would watch him through the window; she always watched him, even when he was at his desk. ‘From time to time,’ she wrote, ‘I would open the door a little so as not to disturb him, and saw him in his usual position bent over papers and magazines, pen in hand.’ Trotsky himself acknowledged that he worked better when he knew that she was nearby. Even in his testament he found it possible to speak of her in the most unconventional way: ‘Natasha has just come up to the window from the courtyard and opened it wider so that the air may enter more freely into my room. I can see the bright green strip of grass beneath the wall, and the clear blue sky above the wall, and sunlight everywhere. Life is beautiful. Let the future generations cleanse it of all evil, oppression and violence, and enjoy it to the full.’146
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