The Lost Opportunity: Attempts at Unification of the Anti-Bolsheviks:1917-1919

publishing across academic disciplines since 1975

LAZARSKI

University Press of America®, Inc.

The term “White movement” is commonly associated with the military struggle against the Soviet regime pursued by various anti-Bolshevik armies. Such a perception of the movement neglects the considerable effort undertaken by Russian political elites to organize political opposition to Bolshevik power. Acting through several multiparty organizations, these elites repeatedly attempted to form a common anti-Bolshevik front, to restore an all-Russian government and to liberate of the anti-Bolshevik struggle, which have been almost entirely ignored by historical scholarship. If we consider that the men and women who composed those elites were the most active and dynamic group in Russian civil society, that neglect is striking. Their main task—the restoration of an all-Russian government—was of utmost importance for the anti-Bolsheviks, whose main centers were located on the peripheries of the Russian Empire and often had contradictory goals. Due to the paucity of interest in the activity of White political elites, this book is a pioneering study. CHRISTOPHER LAZARSKI is Professor of History and Politics at Lazarski School of Commerce and Law in Warsaw, Poland.

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THE LOST OPPORTUNITY

Russia from the Bolsheviks. In The Lost Opportunity, Lazarski explores these facets

THE LOST OPPORTUNITY ATTEMPTS AT UNIFICATION OF THE ANTI-BOLSHEVIKS, 1917-1919 MOSCOW, KIEV, JASSY, ODESSA

CHRISTOPHER LAZARSKI

ISBN-13: 978-0-7618-4120-3 ISBN-10: 0-7618-4120-2 90000 9 780761 841203

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The Lost Opportunity Attempts at Unification of the Anti-Bolsheviks, 1917–1919 Moscow, Kiev, Jassy, Odessa

Christopher Lazarski

UNIVERSITY PRESS OF AMERICA,® INC.

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Copyright © 2008 by University Press of America,® Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard Suite 200 Lanham, Maryland 20706 UPA Acquisitions Department (301) 459-3366 Estover Road Plymouth PL6 7PY United Kingdom All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America British Library Cataloging in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Control Number: 2008927394 ISBN-13: 978-0-7618-4199-7 (clothbound : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-7618-4199-9 (clothbound : alk. paper) ISBN-13: 978-0-7618-4120-3 (paperback : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-7618-4120-2 (paperback : alk. paper) eISBN-13: 978-0-7618-4200-2 eISBN-10: 0-7618-4200-4

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To my mother and sister

Contents

Preface

vii

I.

Introduction

1

II.

The Background Political Elites and the State Duma The 1917 Revolutions and the Beginning of the Civil War The Volunteer Army in the South: Origins, Principles, and Policy

9 9 15 19

III. Moscow: High Hopes The Origins and Activity of the Multiparty Organizations Savinkov’s Insurrection The Moscow Epilogue

36 36 46 48

Kiev: The Tilt to the Right Political Conditions in Ukraine and Their Impact on Russian Anti-Bolsheviks The Extreme Right From the Moderate Right to the Moderate Left

59

IV.

V.

Jassy: A Conference of Disunity

VI. Odessa: The Great Disillusion French Intervention in the South The Question of Authority The Council of Four Organizations Denikin’s Triumph

v

60 63 73 101 117 118 125 130 138

vi

Contents

VII. Conclusions

157

Bibliography

163

Index

173

Preface

Books have their history, and so does mine. My interest in the Whites goes back in time to a graduate seminar at Georgetown University’s Department of History in which I did research on White propaganda. This research eventually resulted in a paper published in Slavonic and East European Review (70/4). A few years later, I wrote my dissertation on the Whites in the South, but then I put aside the topic, as I moved to other projects. Three years ago, Professor Andrzej S. Kaminski, a friend of mine from Georgetown, asked me why I had not made use of the evidence on the Whites which I had collected after completing the dissertation and why I did not write a book on that topic. Andrzej knew that I “sat” on a mass of unused materials on the Whites which I had accumulated during several years of work at the Hoover Institution, Stanford University. I hesitated until I discovered that very little has been published on the Whites in the South within the last decade, and, to my surprise, nothing on what has always interested me the most, the role of Russian political elites in the Civil War. So I began to rewrite my dissertation fitting it in to my current interests and finally making use of collected evidence. The University Press of America kindly agreed to publish the product of that work. I have used the Library of Congress system to transliterate the Cyrillic alphabet in the text. The only exception from that rule applies to well-know Russian names, such as Kerensky or Trotsky. Soft and hard signs are sometimes omitted in the text in case of names known in English historiography (for example, Shulgin) but preserved in the footnotes (Shul’gin). The dates are given according to the Gregorian calendar, but are often supplemented by the “old style” dates in brackets.

vii

viii

Preface

I have consistently used the term “the South” to describe the south-western provinces of the former Russian Empire where Denikin’s White Army and other anti-Bolshevik movements were located. The term “south Russia,” often used in sources and older scholarly production, would certainly be not appropriate, since parts of that territory form currently independent states. I would like to thank several institutions which supported me in the course of the research and writing of this book, the Barbara Johnson-Piasecki Foundation, the State Department (Title VIII Research Fellowship), the Hoover Institution and the Lazarski School of Commerce and Law. I would also like to extend my gratitude to all my friends and colleagues who have encouraged me to write this book and who have helped me with their advice and comments. In particular I am indebted to Professors Richard Stites and Andrzej S. Kaminski without whom this book would not have been written.

Chapter I

Introduction

The term “White movement” is commonly associated with the military struggle against the Soviet regime pursued by various anti-Bolshevik armies in the southern, eastern and northern border regions of the former Russian Empire. “White” generals, officers and armies are the main symbols of the movement. All other anti-Bolshevik initiatives are usually viewed as either short-lived, or as “non-White,” for example the nationalities’ fight, which was branded as separatist, or the resistance of the peasants, which was called the “Black” or “Green” movement. Such a perception of the White movement neglects the considerable effort undertaken by political elites of Russian civil society (obshchestvo) to organize a political opposition to Soviet power.1 In tense relations with the White military leadership and with different vision of the antiBolshevik struggle, political elites and their efforts constitute an important, although little-known and underestimated, facet of the White movement in the South. Almost as soon as the Provisional Government collapsed Russian political elites attempted to take the initiative in the anti-Bolshevik struggle and to create a common front representing all political currents within civil society except for those of the extreme left and right. As the highest moral and spiritual authority in the nation, they intended to restore an all-Russian government.2 That government would, in their opinion, bring unity into the diverse, often hostile centers of resistance against Soviet authority, reclaim political control over the anti-Bolshevik armies, and coordinate the war effort against the new revolutionary regime. With the military help of the Western Allies—whose armed intervention was anticipated at first behind the Urals, and later in the south-western provinces of the former Empire—they would liberate Russia

1

2

Chapter I

from the Bolsheviks. This initiative by Russia’s politicians began in Moscow, and later continued in the South, in Kiev and in Odessa. That concept of anti-Bolshevik struggle rested on the tacit assumption that civil society still preserved at least a part of the special position, which it had acquired throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, of being a spokesman for the nation and for Russia. To maintain that special role and to gain recognition for that role among other anti-Bolshevik forces, civil society’s political elites needed to appear to be acting unanimously. The political unification of all mainstream parties and groups within civil society thus became vital. For only then could the government which political elites intended to create have a claim to legitimacy, a legitimacy which would be based not on numeric preponderance, not on the majority, which they did not have, but on expressing Russia’s “general will”—to use Rousseau’s term—which articulated what Russia could have possibly wished in the conditions of the Civil War. The concept of the anti-Bolshevik struggle, as presented above, is a very brief synthesis of many different political programs the details of which at times varied greatly. Regarding the concrete programs, these were born of difficult negotiations and disputes that continued for months. Their success or failure depended as much upon the good will and loyalty (or lack thereof) of the politicians participating in the process, as on the external forces and ever changing circumstances which remained beyond politicians’ control. It was, therefore, a dynamic process in which programs evolved, underwent adjustments and revisions, or were totally rejected. Yet, the central objective—the restoration of Russian authority with political elites playing the leading role—remained unchanged. In spite of the clear evidence available in archives and in published documents which show repeated attempts to restore a Russian government, the efforts of civil society’s political representatives have been largely ignored by historical scholarship and, therefore, given little attention in the history of the Civil War. As a lost cause within a larger movement that was defeated, the work of the Russian political elites seemed to deserve no more than a brief mention or a footnote. It is true that the elites failed, and their cause became the “lost opportunity.” Yet it is not true that at the beginning of the Civil War their concept for the struggle against the Bolsheviks was a preordained failure. In fact, it remained a viable option until the spring of 1919, i.e., until the collapse of the French intervention in the South. Thus the trend to casually treat their efforts seems entirely unjustifiable. The lack of interest in the activity of anti-Bolshevik political elites is even more striking if we consider who they were, and the importance of their aims. These were the most active and dynamic members in Russian civil society:

Introduction

3

leaders of party organizations, professional and business circles, intellectuals, former members of both chambers of the Russian Parliament and of local self-government, as well as former high ranking officials in Tsarist and Provisional Government administrations. This group was relatively small, counting from a few hundred men and women, if we consider only their “first rank”, to a few thousand, if we include also their lesser known, regional counterparts. By its very nature, this group could not sit idle while the world around them was falling apart. As for the importance of their aims: the centers of anti-Soviet resistance were located on the periphery of the Russian Empire, pursued different policies, and often had contradictory goals. Without consolidation of their efforts, they could not challenge the Bolsheviks in Central Russia. Thus, the restoration of an all-Russian authority should have been the urgent priority. Political elites understood that and set for themselves that goal immediately after the Bolsheviks seized power. It was not they but the White military commanders, in particular General Anton Denikin, who seemed to put that task aside. Denikin recognized Admiral Alexander Kolchak’s authority only in June 1919, i.e., seven months after the latter came to power, and only when that recognition had no practical meaning for the former’s authority. Finally, to judge the weight and significance of the efforts undertaken by political elites, it is worthwhile to look at them from the perspective of Russia’s political tradition. In Russian history there are no examples of generals exercising long-term political rule. Unlike Latin America, Russia had never been ruled by military dictators. It is, therefore, strange that so far no one has questioned why the Whites had no government worthy of the name. Why were there White generals but no White prime ministers? Why in the South did the commander-in-chief of the Russian Army Denikin de facto recognize no higher authority than his own until his demise in April 1920? In other words, why was there no Russian government in the South for the roughly two years of General Denikin’s rule which had power if not over him, at least next to him? If the struggle with the Bolsheviks required a military dictatorship and the politicians had no role to play in that struggle, or were even an obstacle in it—as it was often claimed—then one must ask why the Bolsheviks produced no military dictatorship and why Lenin and Trotsky were not replaced by the Red generals? Bolshevik leaders’ obsessive fear of “Banapartism” does not explain away that question. The struggle of Russian political elites deserves a close examination. Their efforts were not marginal episodes in the Civil War with no consequences for its course. Rather, they belonged to the mainstream of the anti-Bolshevik struggle. The history of elites’ activities, their victories, failures, internal fights, compromises, political hopes, calculations and miscalculations enhance

4

Chapter I

our knowledge of the key themes in the Civil War. Their ultimate loss and the reasons for their failure touch on the basic question of the defeat of the White movement. In itself this justifies an in-depth investigation of the political aspect of the White movement. But there are also other facets of political elite’s conduct during the Civil War which deserve a closer look and some rethinking. What were its core beliefs and values? What were the strengths and weaknesses which it displayed in the course of the struggle against the Bolsheviks? Leaving aside external circumstances, was it something within the elite group of civil society that brought about its failure? And finally, did it assist or fail the nation during those testing times, those new Times of Trouble (smuta), as the Civil War was sometimes called? These issues touch upon the fundamental problem of the importance of civil society within Russian history and as such belong to the essential questions relating to the course of Russian history over the last two centuries. The aim of this book is to present the history of the Russian anti-Bolshevik political elites in the South during the Russian Civil War. Since this opposition failed to achieve full unity but formed several multiparty structures divided along the traditional lines separating the Right, the Center and the Left, this book investigates the origins, development and activities of each of these organizations, and traces the evolution of their political programs. In particular, this work analyses the various attempts at creating a compromise among multiparty organizations, and subsequently, at forming an all-Russian government supported by civil society’s mainstream. This book also describes the relations of the multiparty organizations with the commanders of the Volunteer Army Generals Mikhail Alekseev and Denikin. It touches upon their attitudes toward the nationalities in the borderlands and their hopes relating to the French intervention in the South. Finally, it seeks answers as to why all of these organizations were unsuccessful, especially addressing the internal and external reasons for their failure. The activities of the multiparty organizations passed through three distinct, chronological and geographical stages: first the Moscow period (fall 1917–summer 1918), then the Kiev period (late summer-fall 1918), and lastly the Odessa period (winter 1918–spring 1919). Those stages determine the structure of this work, as each period is described in a separate chapter. An additional chapter is devoted to the conference in Jassy (November 16– December 6, 1918). Although this conference was not a separate stage but an interlude between the Kiev and Odessa phases, it was of crucial importance for elites’ attempts at unification and merits a separate treatment. Additionally, the first chapter provides background information on the Russian political elites during their brief parliamentary experience (1906-17), introduces

Introduction

5

main dramatis personae, gives an overall picture of the revolutionary changes that took place on the eve of and just after the Bolshevik Revolution, and presents the origins, ideology and early politics of the Volunteer Army. The geographical frame of the current work encompasses the SouthWestern provinces of the former Russian Empire, and reaches beyond that region only in one case—Moscow. Obviously, as the birthplace of the political opposition, the latter could not be omitted. The reason for limiting this work to the South is that this region was the principal place of activity for the multiparty organizations. It was in there that they developed their most interesting and promising concepts, and that they achieved their full growth. It was also there, that they faced their main challenges, and that they experienced their decline. The short period of activities by the antiBolshevik political elites in the East is not addressed in this work. The multiparty organizations never succeeded in developing their operations in the East before Kolchak’s coup in November 1918. After that, the policy of the Kolchak Government as well as the relations between the military and civilian elements in his authority pose entirely different sets of problems than those in the South. Likewise, this work does not investigates activities of the political elites in the South after Denikin achieved unquestionable leadership in the anti-Bolshevik struggle in this region, i.e., after the failure of the French intervention in the South, and thus when independent activity by the political elites became impossible. In setting the scope for this work, it is worthwhile to redefine the White movement so that it embraces not only the army but also the political centers of resistance to the Soviet regime, and at the same time, separates it from other, “non-White” anti-Bolsheviks. The most obvious definition slightly modifies the opening of this chapter. The “White movement” embraced all anti-Bolshevik forces, military and political, that accepted the principle of fighting exclusively for all-Russian aims without regard for any particular concern; preserving the constitutional changes that followed the February Revolution, and remaining loyal to the Western Allies. The three principles just mentioned were the basic tenets of the Volunteer Army’s ideology and they were accepted by all multiparty organizations, either enthusiastically or with much reservation. It thus may be said that the current work focuses on the White political opposition to the Bolshevik regime, as it generally does not consider all those groups which rejected at least one of those principles. The only exception is a brief description of the extreme Right movement in Ukraine under Hetman Skropadskyi. The extreme Right played an important role at that time in Russian politics in the South, and its exclusion could have distorted the overall picture of the Kievan period of the anti-Bolshevik political opposition.

6

Chapter I

As previously mentioned, historians have largely ignored the struggle against Bolshevism which was waged by the political elites of Russian society. Thus, although some monographs and papers discussing the Civil War touch upon the activities of one or other multiparty organization, none research all of these groups thoroughly. Several studies are, however, worth mentioning. On the origins of the multiparty organizations in Moscow two monographs are helpful: Vera Vladimirova, God sluzhby “Sotsialistov” kapitalistam. Ocherki po istorii kontr-revoliutsii v 1918 gode,3 and Richard Pipes, Struve. Liberal on the Right, 1905–1944.4 Both, however, have a broad scope that includes but does not focus on multiparty groups. Peter Kenez’s Civil War in South Russia, 1918 and Civil War in South Russia, 1919–1920 furnishes background information on the multiparty organizations.5 Although scattered and uneven, this information is valuable because it provides elementary data on each stage of their activity. Of particular value for the topic of this research is William G. Rosenberg’s monumental work Liberals in the Russian Revolution. The Constitutional Democratic Party, 1917–1921.6 Although Rosenberg focuses only on the Kadets, that concentration helps, since the Kadets were involved in the activities of all multiparty organizations. Its thorough presentation of the politics of the antiBolshevik elites in the Moscow period is followed by a rather fragmentary examination of the Kievan period, and by an insufficient account of the Jassy Conference and events in Odessa during the French intervention in the South. For the examination of the Kievan stage and the Jassy Conference, Anna Procyk’s Russian Nationalism and Ukraine: The Nationality Policy of the Volunteer Army during the Civil War provides a valuable account of the multiparty organizations and an insightful analysis of their position towards Ukrainian separatism.7 For the politics of the multiparty organizations at the Jassy Conference and during the Odessa period, two studies are particularly valuable: Robert H. McNeal, “The Conference of Jassy: an Early Fiasco of the Anti-Bolshevik Movement,” and George A. Brinkley, The Volunteer Army and Allied Intervention in South Russia, 1917–1921.8 McNeal, however, focuses entirely on the question of Western aid to Russia and fails to appreciate the importance of domestic issues that were the subject of spirited discussions at the Jassy Conference. For Brinkley the activity of the multiparty organizations in Odessa was a rather minor issue in the history of Franco-Russian relations during the French military intervention in the South, and therefore, his account cannot be judged as sufficient. Two monographs on the Whites in the East published in recent years turned out to be disappointing as far as multiparty organizations are concerned: both N. G. O. Pereira’s White Siberia: The Politics of Civil War and Jonathan D. Smele’s book Civil War in Siberia: The Anti-Bolshevik Government of Admiral Kochak, 1918–1920 give only a brief account of the Moscow stage.9

Introduction

7

In view of the current state of historical research on the political opposition to the Bolshevik regime, this book largely ventures into unexplored territory. It attempts to retrieve from oblivion the efforts of Russian elites in the antiSoviet struggle and to restore a certain balance between the military and the political facets of that struggle. Furthermore, this work illuminates some specific aspects of the anti-Bolshevik efforts pursued in Moscow and in the South, which have been more or less ignored in the historiography. Among these issues are: the activity of the anti-Bolshevik groups that were created by the Moscow intelligentsia, especially the operations of their remnants in 1919; the history of the Russian monarchist movement in Ukraine, particularly the military forces organized by the extreme Right; the activity of the moderate Right in Ukraine; a new consideration of the failure of the Jassy Conference which stresses the unsuccessful attempt to restore an all-Russian government; and finally, the question of south-Russian authority in Odessa during the French military intervention in the South.

NOTES 1. I follow here Terence Emmons’ translation of obshchestvo as civil society and I use that term in the book, although for the sake of style, at times I abbreviate civil society to society: The Formation of Political Parties and the First National Elections in Russia (Cambridge, Massachusetts and London: Harvard University Press, 1983), 4. The term obshchestvo is sometimes also rendered in English as “educated society” to stress its separation from the mass of uneducated, underprivileged people (narod)— the peasants and workers—who constituted an overwhelming majority of the population in pre-revolution Russia. Yet as that English term means primarily an educated elite or “high society,” it cannot be applied to Russian obshchestvo which included almost everyone who was literate and did not do physical work for a living. Of course, to be really counted among the obshchevstvo one had to assimilate at least some values of that group, first of all, a sense of responsibility for the people and for the Russian State. Small, internally divided and sandwiched between the “dark” masses and autocracy, Russian civil society as a whole had long before the Revolution developed and cherished an image of self as Russia’s highest moral and spiritual authority. They therefore believed that they alone spoke for the nation and for Russia. 2. Throughout the Civil War many Russian governments were established, but they exercised only regional control. The term all-Russian government signified a government which would be the successor of the Provisional Government abolished by the Bolsheviks, i.e., which would represent the Russian State as a whole, not its parts. Only the Kolchak Government met those requirements, particularly, after General Denikin recognized its authority in June 1919. 3. Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel’stvo, 1927. 4. Cambridge: Harvard U. Press, 1980.

8

Chapter I

5. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971 and 1977. 6. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974. 7. Edmonton & Toronto: Canadian Institute of Ukrainian Studies Press, 1995. 8. The McNeal article was published in J. S. Curtiss (ed.), Essays in Russian and Soviet History (New York: Columbia University Press, 1963), 221–36; Brinkley’s book: Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1966. 9. Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1996; and Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996, respectively.

Chapter II

The Background

POLITICAL ELITES AND THE STATE DUMA The era when Russian civil society could legally engage in politics began with the October Manifesto of 1905. Yet that group’s sense of responsibility for the people (narod) and the state had a much longer tradition, reaching back at least to the Decembrist Uprising of 1825 when its predecessors, young radical officers, challenged the power of autocracy. Throughout much of the 19th century, at the time when civil society gradually emerged as a social layer, its involvement in political, social and cultural life bore the marks of an anti-regime, often clandestine and radical opposition. The great Reforms of Alexander II, particularly his Zemstvo Reform (1864), which introduced provincial and local self-government into most of the lands of the Russian Empire, created much more favorable conditions for civil society to engage legally in local politics and in public activity. During the last decades of the 19th century thousands of professionals—the so-called third element— worked in self-government and its various agencies, and took responsibility for the improvement of education, health, agriculture and other areas of life in provincial Russia. Alexander II’s Legal Reform (1864), created in turn a remarkably independent judiciary and with it a legal profession worthy of the name. Russia’s rapid industrialization in the late 19th and early 20th century contributed to the growth of yet another segment of civil society—industrial and commercial circles. The 1905–07 Revolution was an opportunity to transform Russia from an autocracy into a constitutional monarchy along west European lines. But the October Manifesto (1905) and the Fundamental Laws (1906) took Russia only half-way up that road. On the one hand, the Duma, the lower chamber 9

10

Chapter II

of the parliament elected by general election, was to control the state budget and to have—together with the higher chamber, the State Council—the right to make laws. On the other hand, those rights were strictly circumscribed by the immense powers retained by the Tsar: he had the government appointed and responsible to him; enjoyed exclusive control of foreign affairs and the army; could veto any law and dissolve or prorogue the Duma at his whim, in which case, he had the power to decree law. Nicholas II was thus in a much better position vis-á-vis the State Duma than England’s King Charles I had been against the Commons in the first half of the 17th century. Although based on a limited franchise that discriminated against peasants and workers, the first two Dumas, elected in 1906 and 1907, were remarkably liberal and radical. Their majority either opposed autocracy and desired full constitutional monarchy, or rejected the existing political order and advocated revolution. The Government refused to collaborate with such a Duma and Nicholas II dissolved it twice (July 1906 and June 1907). Then at the instigation of Prime Minister Petr Stolypin, the Tsar took advantage of his extraordinary powers and issued a new electoral law which further restricted the franchise by favoring the propertied classes in general and the nobility in particular. That new electoral law produced right and right-center majorities in the next two Dumas, the Third (1907–12) and the Fourth (1912–1917). Only the Third Duma worked for its full terms; the Fourth Duma operated throughout the First World War and ended after the February Revolution. It was during that ten year period that most of the persons, who in the future would participate and lead the anti-Bolshevik political opposition, acquired their political experience, gained recognition among the public and developed a deep sense of obligation to Russia. The Third and Fourth State Dumas were perceived by many as being very conservative or even reactionary. This is true insofar as both Dumas included extreme Rightists (pravye) among whom were fanatical royalists, such as the colorful and romantic V. M. Purishkevich and the Black Hundred Reactionary G. G. Zamyslovskii.1 These men lacked any ideological cohesion apart from the hatred of the existing constitutional order (however limited it was) and the desire for the restoration of an unadulterated autocracy. The overwhelming majority of the Duma deputies, however, either supported the existing political order, as did the Octobrists, or wanted to deepen its constitutional principles and grant the Duma and State Council exclusive legislative rights. The greatest advocates of such changes were Russian liberals, the Kadets. Although their representation in both Dumas was not numerous (around fifty), they could count on the support of the Octobrists and the Progressists, i.e., the parties placed immediately to their right in the political spectrum. Moreover, even a large part of the Right, the nationalists, increasingly reconciled them-

The Background

11

selves with limited autocracy when the ineptitude of Nicholas II’s rule became apparent after the outbreak of the World War. Members of these parties, from the Progressive Nationalists to the liberals, together about 300 deputies out of 420, formed a new majority in the Fourth Duma, called the “Progressive Bloc” (August 1915). The conservative politician Baron V. V. MellerZakomel’skii was the chairman of the Bloc, while a liberal, P. N. Miliukov, and a nationalist, V. V. Shulgin, were his deputies. The Bloc accepted an essentially Kadet program, which included the Duma’s right to veto ministerial appointments, the release of political and religious prisoners and an end to discrimination against religious minorities, including the Jews. The politicians of the Bloc seemed to believe that a government responsible to the Duma was imminent, particularly given that the majority of ministers in the existing Government were willing to resign in order to give the Duma a chance to form a new cabinet. Instead, the Tsar prorogued the Duma and then departed for the front.2 Thus at that time, the Progressive Bloc failed to produce any constructive results. However, the parties which formed it and their leaders would constitute in the future the core of the anti-Bolshevik political opposition. It is therefore worthwhile to outline briefly their parliamentary experience and in this way to have a clearer viewpoint on the future evolution of their principles, programs and policies. The Kadets or Constitutional Democrats, since 1905 under the name of the Party of People’s Freedom, were a party of Russian liberals. They subscribed to all the principles classical Western liberals cherished, such as rule of law, civil liberties, individual rights, and the sovereignty of the people. With pride, the Kadets claimed to be at the forefront of liberalism, being even more liberal than their Western mentors.3 Yet, as William Rosenberg noticed thirty years ago and more recently Anna Procyk pointed out in her brief but brilliant summary of their attitudes, inasmuch as they claimed to be pure liberals, the Kadets were in fact “tainted” by nationalism, the strength of which they were unaware of until the World War and Revolution.4 In that, the Russian liberals were similar to early Western liberals and nationalists who had originally been indistinguishable, and who split only in the mid 19th century. Secure in their position as the dominant nationality in the Empire, Russian liberals could denounce the Old Regime’s policy of oppression and discrimination against national minorities, while at the same time opposing federalism and supporting a unitary state structure and its territorial integrity. Even in the case of Finland and Poland, the Kadets supported autonomy rather than independence.5 Furthermore, the privileged position of Russian culture did not arouse their liberal sensitivity, as it stemmed, they claimed, from its superiority over all other national cultures in the Empire and from its role as a vehicle for progress which benefited all Russia’s inhabitants. Consequently, as Procyk summarized:

12

Chapter II

Because of their materialistic, utilitarian worldview they subconsciously submerged their national emotions in the respectable . . . rationalistic formulas fashionable at the beginning of the century. Not being fully aware of their own feelings, they tended to underestimate the strength of the nationalisms in the periphery . . . . When the catastrophes of the war and the revolution made them aware of their submerged feeling, their newly awakened national fervor transformed them into the most ardent defenders of Russia’s indivisibility. They saw no need to curb their emotions, because they were convinced that their cause was founded on respectable scientific principles of universal human progress.6

During the Civil War, the Kadets participated in every multiparty organization, from the rightist State Unity Council to the leftist Union for Regeneration; in one—the National Center—they, and the nationalists, constituted the core. As members of that National Center, the Kadets were next to the nationalists the strongest supporters of the White Army. Moreover, the Kadet leaders advocated military dictatorship for the duration of Civil War, and were the most committed to defending Russia’s territorial integrity and international position. If the Kadets were not aware of their Great Russian chauvinism, one cannot say the same about the nationalists who, together with other deputies of the Right, appeared in the Third State Duma in significant numbers (about hundred and fifty). Indistinguishable at first from other Right deputies, the nationalists were organized in 1907 into a separate faction of moderate rightists by P. N. Balashev, Count V. A. Bobrinskii and P. N Krupenskii, all of whom were members of Russia’s wealthiest nobility. They came from Podole (Balashev), Tula and Kiev regions (Bobrinskii), and Bessarabia (Krupenskii). Joined by other groups, in particular by members of the Kiev Club of Russian Nationalists, they established in 1909 the Russian National faction in the Duma with Balashev as president, A. S. Gizhitskii as vice-president, and F. N. Bezak as treasurer. Since they actively pursued the goal of establishing local cells, they became a party rather than a mere parliamentary faction. In spite of its all-Russian character, the faction and the party were composed of deputies and supporters primarily from the western provinces of the Empire. Their chief concern was the defense of Russian minority interests threatened by Polish landowners in the countryside, by Jewish commerce and business in the cities, and increasingly by the nascent Ukrainian national movement.7 Although they were strongly monarchist and still considered Russia to be an autocracy, they accepted the Duma as a part of the Russian political order and wanted to be loyal to both.8 “Russia for the Russians” was their underlying principle; thus they stressed the unity of the Empire and supported the Orthodox Church. They also professed the inviolability of private property and demanded state assistance for Russian minorities in the borderlands, as well as for the peasants.9

The Background

13

The nationalists’ unity did not last long. Already in 1911 Krupenskii split and formed the Independent Nationalist Party. He was less chauvinistic and more moderate than mainstream nationalists, and wished to cooperate with the Duma’s Center, mainly the Octobrists. Most of his followers (eighteen deputies and thirty-one deputies in the Third and Fourth Dumas, respectively) were from Bessarabia where Krupenskii had large estates and influence.10 A further division took place in the Fourth Duma when the remaining nationalists split into two factions. The majority continued to be led by Balashev, while the minority was established by Bobrinskii and Shulgin. The former group mainly represented the interests of Russian landlords in the western borderlands, and was more socially conservative and somewhat less inclined to oppose the Government. The latter, after the split called the “Progressive Nationalists,” were ideologically motivated, modern nationalists, for whom estate or class distinction played a secondary role. While respecting autocracy, they were often openly critical of the Government.11 Most of the Progressive Nationalists were from the western provinces, particularly Ukraine; the Kiev Club of Russian Nationalists constituted their core. In time Shulgin became their unquestionable leader. He was the editor-in-chief of the Russian daily Kievlianin which gave the nationalists a powerful tool for shaping Russian opinion in Ukraine. For this purpose, Shulgin had a host of talented journalists, of whom his close friend A. I. Savenko, a member of the Fourth Duma and the chief of the Kiev Club since January 1914, was the best known.12 The Progressive Nationalists and Krupenskii’s Independent Nationalist Party joined the Progressive Bloc in 1915, while Balashev’s majority Nationalists abstained.13 In the Civil War, the Progressive Nationalists were active in the Kadet dominated National Center and were among the staunchest supporters of the White Army and its military leader Denikin. They were also the most hostile to the nationalities, in particular the Ukrainians. In contrast, the nationalist groups led by Balashev and Krupenskii cooperated with the Hetmanate of Skoropadskyi and tried to organize Russian armies independent of the Volunteer Army of Generals Alekseev and Denikin. The Octobrists created in response to the Tsar’s Manifesto of October 30th (17th) 1905, had the largest representation in the Third Duma (about one hundred and fifty deputies) and one of the largest in the Fourth (about one hundred). Their leaders A. I. Guchkov and M. V. Rodzianko were Duma Presidents, the former in the Third Duma and the latter in the Fourth. Although much has been said about the Octobrists as a bourgeoisie party—liberal landowners were in fact their main constituency—they were more like the Kadets, satisfied with the new constitutional order. They

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shared with the Kadets a regard for the rule of law and for individual rights, but disagreed with them in preferring the organic growth of political institutions to radical reforms.14 Also, unlike the Kadets they did not hide their nationalism in defending Russians’ position in the borderlands. However, they did not like the “zoological nationalism” of the Nationalists and their slogan “Russia for the Russians.”15 After the Bolshevik Revolution, most of the Octobrists joined, at first the Right Center (Moscow), and later the rightist State Unity Council (Kiev). As the rest of the Right, they were critical of the White military commanders and much more willing than the Kadets and the Progressive Nationalists to accommodate the nationalities in the borderlands. The last party in the Progressive Bloc was the Progressist Party, located between the Octobrists and the Kadets on the political spectrum. It originated in 1908 as a Third Duma faction and was later joined by liberal Moscow business circles. In the Fourth Duma its representation grew from twenty-eight to forty-one deputies. The Progressists were as liberal as the Kadets in their view on civil rights, rule of law and constitutional monarchy, but they differed from them by stressing the leading role of industry and commerce in Russia’s development and supporting the interests of the entrepreneurial class. Moscow industrial circles had a dominant position in the party, providing the leader of the Progressists’ faction in the Fourth Duma A. I. Konovalov, as well as a group of talented editors of their newspaper Utro Rossii (Morning Russia) P. P. Riabushinskii, S. N. Tret’iakov, S. A. Smirnov, and P. A. Buryshkin.16 In the Civil War they played an important role in the Moscow phase. They provided much needed funds for the activities of the first multiparty organizations, as well as for the enlistment of officers for the Volunteer Army. But their funds dried up rapidly after the Bolsheviks came to power and their political role waned; they were hardly visible in the Kiev and Odessa periods. Of the parties which stayed outside the Progressive Bloc but were later active among the anti-Bolshevik, White political opposition, it is worthwhile to mention two groups: one on the right fringes of the State Duma and another on its left. The first consisted of extreme reactionaries, hostile to anything liberal and modern in general, and specifically to the post-1905 political order, in particular the Duma. During the Civil War, they briefly emerged in the Kievan period among the organizers of the monarchist Russian armies sponsored by the Germans and Skoropadskyi. The second group, the parties of the Left in the Duma, eventually joined either the leftist multiparty organization the Union for the Regeneration of Russia—mainly the Popular Socialists, the Trudoviks and some other right Mensheviks—or stayed outside of it and fought the Bolsheviks on their own.

The Background

15

THE 1917 REVOLUTIONS AND THE BEGINNING OF THE CIVIL WAR The World War revealed fully the ineptitude of the Tsarist Government both at the front and at home. The Tsar continuously changed the government from bad to worse, and gradually every minister with talent and integrity—A. V. Krivoshein was one of the most distinguished among them—was either removed from office or resigned.17 Disillusionment and criticism of the ruling family and even accusations of treason against various members of the House of Romanov became so severe that even some monarchists looked forward to Nicholas’ removal.18 Accordingly, when food riots erupted in St. Petersburg in early March 1917, they rapidly escalated into a serious political crisis which plunged Russia into revolution. In those eventful days the State Duma, in spite of being prorogued, formed the Provisional Committee which comprised politicians from the Progressive Bloc as well as two representatives of the Duma’s Left, Aleksandr Kerensky (Trudovik) and N. S. Chkheidze (Menshevik).19 After Nicholas II’s abdication on March 15 (2), the Provisional Committee created the Provisional Government which then assumed full state power, included that of autocracy, when Grand Duke Mikhail Aleksandrovich, the designated new monarch, declined to take the throne (March 16/3). Although the future constitutional order was to be determined by a Constituent Assembly, the Grand Duke’s resignation momentarily turned Russia into a de facto republic and endowed all of its citizens with equal political rights.20 Furthermore, the Provisional Government immediately confirmed the abolition of estates—hereditary social classes— and issued a series of acts which granted Russia’s inhabitants a variety of rights and liberties, including the abolition of the death penalty for civilians and soldiers.21 However, on two burning questions—land and peace—the Government took positions which were contrary to the popular mood. The land question was deferred to the Constituent Assembly, while the war was to be pursued to a victorious end.22 Those two issues as well as the entire policy of liberalization and democratization reflected the Kadet preponderance in the Provisional Government of Prince G. E. Lvov.23 The liberals refused to accept forcible land seizures even though, in theory, they supported land reform (introduced from above and without detriment to agriculture’s productivity), while the defense of Russia’s national interest and its international position was a fundamental policy of Pavel Miliukov, the minister of foreign affairs and the dominant figure in the Government who, let us remember, was also the chairman of the Kadet party.24 Both policies proved to be fatal. The June 1917 counterattack at the front contributed to the Army’s disintegration and, indirectly, to the collapse of the new regime. In turn, the non-predetermination

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policy regarding the land question—initiated by the Provisional Government and maintained by the Kadets, and by other Whites after the Bolsheviks seized power—was one of their gravest mistakes which largely determined the course of the Civil War. On the surface, the Provisional Government enjoyed unlimited power as it was responsible to no one—the Duma was never reconvened and the autocracy ceased to exist. Yet in fact, its authority was being increasingly undermined by the Petrograd Soviet of Workers’ and Soldiers’ Deputies. The latter quickly became the second seat of authority initiating the so-called dual power (dvoevlastie) of the Provisional Government and the Soviet. The (in)famous Order No. 1 issued by the Petrograd Soviet already on March 14 (1) perhaps more than anything else contributed to the spread of disorder. On the one hand, it allowed for the execution of only those state decisions which were approved by the Soviet; on the other, it limited military discipline and introduced soldiers’ committees in the Army.25 Thus, in addition to a drastic weakening of the authority of the Provisional Government from the moment it emerged, the order eventually led to the rapid destruction of the Russian Army. Throughout the War, the Russian Army had suffered a great number of casualties due to the superiority of the German Army’s weaponry, which the Russian commanders counterbalanced with manpower. The soldiers were tired of the war and pre-war patriotism and enthusiasm had quickly evaporated, turning into defeatism and demands for peace at any price.26 By 1917, peace was, next to land, the most powerful and popular slogan. With the weakening of discipline after the February Revolution, soldiers began to “take leave” of the Army without asking anyone for permission. Desertions increased as news spread of peasants taking landlords’ land by force or—just the opposite—of landlords removing peasant families from land. Fearing that they would be left out of their share in land distribution, as well as for their families, the peasant-soldiers began to depart for home.27 After the collapse of the June offensive, initiated by the Provisional Government, desertions in the Army reached major proportions. Soldiers were no longer running on foot and hiding; instead hordes of demoralized and revolutionized deserters were taking trains and vandalizing them on their way home with no fear of any authority.28 The so-called frontoviki (young men returning from the front) were among Russia’s most unruly elements, challenging and undermining existing authorities in their localities. They were also the most susceptible to radical agitation, including that of the Bolsheviks.29 The Army received another fatal blow in August 1917, when after the aborted attempt of the Commander-inChief, General Lavr Kornilov, to bring order to Petrograd, Kerensky ordered the arrest of the Army’s highest command.30 By the end of the summer of

The Background

17

1917, the Russian Army had lost almost all fighting capability. It had become powerless. In the meantime, industrial centers and cities were increasingly engulfed by strikes, the countryside was sacked by land seizures, and the Government was losing whatever control it had originally enjoyed.31 Respect for the law and fear of authority gradually disappeared. Disorder spread unchecked throughout the whole country. Kerensky, who in July became the Prime Minister, was able to control the situation at the center for a time: his powerful speeches seemed to have had a magnetic influence on the masses.32 But his “government by speeches” could not last long. While the Provisional Government was losing power, the Soviets spread rapidly throughout Russia, reaching not only large, industrial centers but also local towns and rural districts. Composed usually of socialists of various kinds, the Soviets were unruly and in themselves posed no direct threat to the Government’s existence.33 That situation changed when the Bolsheviks began to dominate an increasing number of Soviets, particularly those in large towns and industrial centers. Since the Bolsheviks were eager to gain power by force, the Provisional Government was doomed. The giant Russian Empire was like a minor postcolonial state: a few dozen armed and determined men could stage a coup d’état without encountering serious resistance.34 The Bolsheviks seized power in Petrograd on November 7 (October 25) under the slogan “All Power to the Soviets.” That slogan allowed them to take advantage of the upcoming Second All-Russian Congress of Soviets in whose name they allegedly took power.35 That also gave them the opportunity to use the network of soviets throughout the country to spread their authority relatively unopposed.36 In the first few months after October, the real challenge for the Bolsheviks was not to fight “counter-revolutionaries” but to get a grip on the Soviets and to stay in power. To meet that challenge, they put aside ideological dogmas and called for “Land for the Peasants” and immediate peace. In this way, they placated the peasants and soldiers. They also began to develop their own machine of terror, long before the official proclamation of the “Red Terror” in September 1918.37 Then, as if they were giving the peasants a bill for their land, they used food requisitioning detachments to forcibly extract grain from the countryside to feed the hungry cities in the winter and spring of 1918. In January 1918, the Bolsheviks dispensed with the Constituent Assembly by force, thereby getting rid of an institution, which, having been elected by a truly universal vote, had the legitimate claim to authority. Military resistance in the South-Western borderlands seemed to have been successfully dealt with by the spring of 1918. Finally, after signing the BrestLitovsk Peace with the Germans in March 1918, the Bolsheviks seemed to be in full control throughout the Empire, except for Finland and the territories

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occupied by the Germans. This situation allowed Lenin to tell the Moscow Soviet in April that: “. . . in the main, the Civil War has ended.”38 He was mistaken. The Civil War had not ended. It was about to erupt with formidable force. And the dispersed Constituent Assembly and the peace with the Germans would play an important role in the ensuing Civil War. The long awaited Constituent Assembly was venerated by the all enemies of the Old Regime. Unlike all previous elections in Russia, the vote for the Assembly was based on universal, equal, direct, and secret suffrage for all Russian men. The Assembly, therefore, was clearly the voice of the entire people, not of civil society alone, as it had been hitherto. The Constituent Assembly elected in November 1917 gave an overwhelming victory to socialist parties in general (around 70 percent), and the Socialist Revolutionaries in particular (40 percent). The Kadets, who attracted more votes than any other non-socialist party, received less than five percent of the votes. The election results gave the SRs a majority of deputies (370 out of 715), while the Bolsheviks who had the second largest vote (24 percent) and representation (175 deputies), in fact lost the election.39 Since they could not control the Assembly, the Bolsheviks repeatedly postponed its convocation. They then threatened and humiliated its members during the only day of its proceedings on Jan. 18 (5), 1918, prevented its reconvening, and through propaganda branded it a counterrevolutionary force.40 Unable to act legally on Bolshevik controlled territory, the members of the Constituent Assembly reappeared at the first opportunity outside of it. In May 1918 the Bolsheviks provoked a conflict with the co-called Czechoslovak Legion which had been formed during the War mostly from Czech and Slovak POWs and deserters from the Austro-Hungarian Army. At the time, the Legion was the only large military force in Russia (about 40,000 soldiers) which preserved its military discipline and combat ability. The legionaries were anxious to get out of Russia and it was agreed that they would be transported by train along the Trans-Siberian railroad to the Far East and then to Allied ships. However, when they learned that Trotsky ordered that they be disarmed and that those who resisted be shot, the legionaries began to disarm the Bolsheviks. Within three months the legionaries controlled the entire Trans-Siberian railroad, from European Russia around Samara, Simbirsk and Kazan to Vladivostok in the Far East.41 Under their protection in early June 1918, there emerged in Samara an SR government called the Committee of Members of the Constituent Assembly (Komuch). Further to the East behind the Ural Mountains there emerged in June another anti-Soviet government, the Provisional Siberian Government based in Omsk.42 Both governments, as well as other anti-Bolshevik forces, began to talk about calling a state conference which would restore an all-Russian Government. That

The Background

19

State Conference (gosudarstvennoe soveshchanie) met finally in Ufa (Sept. 3–23, 1918) and established the Ufa Directory which was later abolished by Admiral Kolchak’s coup (Nov. 18).43 But before the meeting in Ufa took place, the question of preliminary conditions for calling the State Conference, the composition and character of the government it would create, and the role of members of the Constituent Assembly in it, would become a subject of great controversy among the multiparty organizations in Moscow. Those issues will be presented in the following chapter. Peace was one of the first promises which the Bolsheviks made to win popular support, and they delivered it. As the October coup marked also the final dissolution of the Russian Army, the Bolsheviks were in no position to bargain. They immediately entered into negotiations with the Germans, concluded an armistice in December 1917 and peace in March 1918 at BrestLitovsk. The price for peace was heavy—the loss of Poland, Finland, the Baltic States, Ukraine and the southern Transcaucasia. Important for our purpose is that, as a result of that peace, the South became an anti-Soviet stronghold and the anti-Bolsheviks split over the so-called orientation controversy.44 As for the former, the withdrawal of the Bolsheviks from Ukraine precipitated the Soviet collapse on the Don and led to the establishment of two, conservative and pro-German regimes: one in Ukraine under Hetman P. P. Skoropadskyi and another on the Don Cossacks territory under General P. N. Krasnov. It also indirectly helped the Volunteer Army of Generals Alekseev and Denikin in recapturing the lands of the Kuban Cossacks which subsequently became the base of their operations. As for the orientation controversy, the dependence of the Soviet regime on the good will of the Germans made some anti-Bolsheviks think that the Germans were in a much better position to help Russia to get rid of Bolshevism than the Western Allies. Such thoughts were entertained not only by conservative politicians but by liberals as well, including the Chairman of the Kadet party Miliukov. That question as to whether the Western Allies or Germany would be more helpful in defeating the Bolsheviks, became a subject of intense dispute among Russian political elites and will be discussed in the next two chapters.

THE VOLUNTEER ARMY IN THE SOUTH: ORIGINS, PRINCIPLES, AND POLICY While the White Army is not the subject of this book, it is necessary to consider it briefly in order to better understand the activities and the programs advocated by political elites. The origins of the White Army, and by extension of the White movement, go back to the first half of November 1917, when

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General Mikhail Alekseev, a former chief-of-staff of Nicholas II and de facto commander-in-chief (1915–17), went south to the Don Cossacks.45 In the Don capital Novocherkassk, he began to gather around himself patriotic officers and military cadets who had found refuge on the territory of the Don Host. Alekseev’s plan was to establish a military force and political authority, initially on a local level and later, if possible, on the all-Russian level. The task facing him seemed completely hopeless. Russia was rapidly sinking into chaos due to the collapse of authority and the total disorder and lawlessness that followed. Soviet authority was swiftly expanding, nowhere encountering serious resistance. Under these circumstances, patriotic appeals issued by the General, calling for resistance to the internal and external enemies—the Bolsheviks and the Germans—went almost without response. The thin trickle of volunteers arriving in Novocherkassk seemed ridiculously small and totally disproportionate to the enormousness of the need. Yet, Alekseev persisted and his emerging “Alekseev Organization” was soon to be known as the Volunteer Army or the White Army.46 Alekseev was soon joined by the generals who had been imprisoned as a result of the Kornilov affair and who escaped from their Bykhov jail after the Bolshevik coup. Among them were, Generals Denikin, A. S. Lukomskii, S. L. Markov, and I. P. Romanovskii. General Kornilov himself came on December 19 (6) as the last.47 About the same time, between November 1917 and January 1918, there appeared in Novocherkassk many well known Russian politicians, among them the former Duma Chairman (Rodzianko), three ministers of the Provisional Government (Miliukov, A. I. Shingarev, V. A. Stepanov), party leaders and intellectuals (M. M. Fedorov, B. V. Savinkov, K. N. Sokolov, P. B. Struve, Shulgin, Prince G. N. Trubetskoi and others). Most of them were Kadets, but there were also politicians of the moderate Right and of the socialist Left.48 It was no coincidence that so many of Russia’s highest officers and politicians went to the Don. The Don’s neighbors to the West and South, Ukraine and the Kuban, were also free from Soviet power, but they were much more self-assertive, clearly opted for a federal structure of the Russian state and declared independence soon after the Bolsheviks seized power. Furthermore, Ukraine had a strong national movement, while the Kuban Cossacks (who in large part descended from the Zaporozhian Cossacks deported in the 18th century from Ukraine) were in the process of developing a separate identity. By comparison, the Don seemed a much more hospitable place for those who perceived the struggle against the Bolsheviks as a fragment in the larger fight for Russia’s national interest and who viewed regional “particularism, egoism and separatism”—the code words used against advocates of a federal state structure and local autonomy—equally as dangerous as Bolshevism. The Don

The Background

21

Cossacks were unquestionably Russian, displayed no separatism, and the ataman of their army (voisko) General A. M. Kaledin was in touch with the Bykhov prisoners, and supported Alekseev and his Organization.49 However, the conditions the Russian patriots found on the Don in the fall and winter 1917 were extremely disappointing. The Cossacks, particularly the frontoviki, were almost as revolutionized as the rest of the population. They displayed no eagerness for fighting the Bolsheviks. On the contrary, they looked at the Alekseev Organization with hostility, or indifference at best. The tension ran so high that Gen. Kaledin asked Alekseev to stay on the Don territory for no longer than a week in order not to aggravate the situation. But a short time later, in the first days of December, Kaledin had to reverse his request and to beg Alekseev for help against the insurgent population and the approaching Red Guards. Although Alekseev had only a few hundred men at that time—of whom many were recovering in hospital because of injuries or general exhaustion—he sent 400 volunteers to fight. This small force turned out to be sufficient for droving out the Red Guards. Thus Kaledin’s authority was preserved, and the Volunteer Army gained time for respite and growth.50 The arrival on the Don of so many generals and politicians was for the Alekseev Organization not without dramatic consequences. First of all, almost immediately after the arrival of General Kornilov there erupted a conflict between him and General Alekseev who did not like each other. Kornilov had distrusted Alekseev at least since the time of his aborted coup when Alekseev carried out Kerensky’s order and arrested Kornilov and his companions. The conflict was so intense that Kornilov threatened to leave the Don and go to the East. As it was not Alekseev but Kornilov who had held the hearts of the officers—who admired him for his attempt to restore military discipline in August 1917—it was clear that had Kornilov left the Don, most of the volunteers would have gone with him. The compromise finally worked out between them stipulated that Alekseev remain in charge of the political, diplomatic and financial work of the Army, while charismatic Kornilov become its military commander. Additionally, the two generals formed a triumvirate with General Kaledin, who was in charge of the Don Government. This solution prevented the destruction of the White movement at its inception, but the relations between Alekseev and Kornilov remained tense.51 Another conflict, of much greater consequence for the nature of the White movement, was an open confrontation between the military and the politicians. They vehemently disagreed as to who would lead the anti-Bolshevik struggle. For the politicians, particularly those of national stature, it was clear that they should lead and that the military should be subordinated to them. In contrast, many in the military saw the politicians as troublemakers who

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played party politics in the midst of Russia’s terrible misfortunes, for which the politicians bore responsibility. They therefore believed that the politicians should be kept at a distance. The chief exponent of this view was General Kornilov, who after his bitter experience with Premier Kerensky in August 1917, distrusted politicians in general. Denikin, who later skillfully exploited that assessment, wants us to believe that it was the unanimous view of the entire military, except for General Alekseev.52 The latter, in turn, clearly viewed the Army as a part of a larger movement for state regeneration in which politics and politicians would have to play an important role, since not all of Russia’s problems could have been resolved with military means. Alekseev himself became involved in political matters as early as Nicholas II’s abdication and had frequent contacts with Russia’s principal politicians. He acknowledged that his trip to the South was not his individual action but rather a mission given to him immediately after the Bolshevik coup by a group of predominantly Kadet politicians in Moscow. One of his early principal objectives was to establish a strong Russian authority, at first local and later all-Russian, which would include a large political spectrum, excluding only those who wanted to restore the autocracy and those who supported the Bolshevik disorder. In fact, the Army he was organizing in Novocherkassk was meant to protect that new political center.53 It was for this purpose that Alekseev created the Special Council (Osoboe soveshchanie) headed by himself and composed of distinguished Kadet politicians (Fedorov, Miliukov, Struve, Prince Trubetskoi), as well as some obscure, local socialists who were admitted to the Council at Savinkov’s request (P. M. Ageev, S. P. Mazurienko and K. M. Vendziagol’skii). The Council was also to include the military: Generals Kornilov and Kaledin.55 The composition of the Council made it a government-like, civilian authority. The generals were to play a vital role in it, justified by the conditions in Russia and on the Don. Still, they were not to run the Council; they were to be members. But just as Alekseev lost the contest with Kornilov for the leadership of the Volunteer Army, he and the politicians lost their clash with the generals over the leadership of the White movement. Alekseev’s Council was reduced to a purely advisory role next to Commander-in-Chief Kornilov, with Alekseev still at its head, and its socialist members disappearing without a trace.55 The reasons for Alekseev and the politicians’ failure are at least threefold. First, Alekseev was seriously ill and had less than a year to live. This explains his dispirited defense of his rightful position as the Army’s founder. Second, the situation in Novocherkassk allowed the military to put the politics and politicians to the backstage. Surrounded by a not-so-friendly population, and threatened by an imminent Bolshevik invasion, the small band of White volunteers and their commanders had to think first about their own survival. This

The Background

23

situation elevated military matters and made politics and politicians appear a hindrance rather than a help. Finally, it seems that some of the generals already entertained political ambitions and were not happy with the competition of professional politicians. Kornilov was bold, courageous and charismatic, yet his straightforward, frank and impulsive character, political naiveté, and honorable conduct made him a “White Don Quixote” rather than a “White Machiavelli.” Although he had political views, and his political program—more liberal than that of the Kadets—caused quite a stir in Novocherchassk, he does not seem to have entertained political ambitions.56 Thus, he can be excluded from consideration, especially given his untimely death in April 1918. But other generals, particularly Denikin cannot be counted out. Denikin, who even during Kornilov’s life was second in command,57 was usually viewed as a simple, unassuming, strictly honest, frugal, and selfless officer. Russia’s misfortune launched him into a position of leadership in the White movement which he had not looked forward to, nor had welcomed. But as a man of courage and ardent patriot, he could not refuse responsibility, when his Mother Russia was calling to him for aid. So, the argument goes, Denikin fought for Russia, and Russia alone, without regard for any private, party, class or regional interest, but only for the restoration of Russia “great, one, and indivisible,” as the most distinctive, future slogan of the Whites proclaimed. His only fault, if any, was that he was a simple general from a provincial garrison who lacked appropriate experience in politics and in strategic command. This has been the almost universal view put forth by his contemporaries as well as historical scholarship.58 Yet it seems that Denikin was, in fact, far from the image of the selfless patriot which he sought to project. It is true that he declared many times that his only aim was to save Russia and restore its greatness without regard for any ambitions and interests, including his own. However, his policies contradicted these claims, for he refused to cooperate with anyone who would not submit unreservedly to his authority and who showed any trace of independence.59 Throughout the period which is the subject of this book, this attitude turned Denikin against every initiative of the multiparty organizations which aimed at establishing Russian authority, whether local or all-Russian. Denikin’s obstructionism was particularly visible during the Kiev and Odessa phases. Although he justified his conduct by accusing others of ulterior and impure motives, it appears that what truly motivated him was his desire to appear like a modern-day Prince Dimitrii Pozharskii. He seemed to believe that, like the 17th century national hero, he could rescue Russia in its new “Time of Trouble” and save it from the Bolsheviks and dismemberment. For Denikin, whatever advanced this personal ambition, was good; whatever hampered it was bad. Thus the apolitical ideology proclaimed by the Army

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became Denikin’s principal weapon against his potential rivals—among them Russia’s most distinguished politicians. He used it to make them look selfish, petty, quarrelsome and unpatriotic; while he, the unknown provincial general, appeared to be a pure, selfless Russian patriot fighting only for the motherland.60 The stakes of this game were high—victory or failure for the Whites, but that seemed a small price for Russia’s 20th century Pozharskii: a true “patriot” indeed. The lost battle for the leadership of the White movement in that early period of its existence did not mean that Russia’s political leaders and political affairs were doomed to play a secondary role in the anti-Bolshevik struggle in the South, or that the politicians themselves gave up any hopes of influencing and directing that struggle. As the politicians were leaving the Don they must have thought that if the Volunteer Army were to survive, it would have to deal with administrative, social, economic, political and international matters and that those issues would have to thrust politics to the fore again. Furthermore, in early 1918 the situation in Russia and the South was rapidly changing and many things could have happened to radically alter the military and political conditions. Leaving aside other regions, in the South between the spring and fall of 1918 two new major anti-Bolshevik centers appeared: Ukraine under Skoropadskyi and the Don under General Krasnov. Both reduced the Whites to being just one among many anti-Soviet centers, particularly given that Ukraine and the Don sponsored several other Russian volunteer armies. Political elites tried to take advantage of those opportunities. Finally, the collapse of the Central Powers and expected Allied intervention in the South opened new opportunities for politicians to reassert their role. Thus, although the battle for the leadership was lost in Novocherkassk in the early 1918, the “war” continued and could have changed the situation at any point. The period of respite which the Whites enjoyed after Alekseev chased the Red Guards out of the Don in early December 1917 did not last long. In late January the Red Guards reappeared in much greater numbers, while the Cossacks showed no more willingness to fight them. Seeing a Bolshevik take over imminent, Kaledin committed suicide, and the Volunteers left the Don in late February.61 As the Reds began to encircle them, the Whites decided to go South in the hope of reaching the Kuban. Thus began the legendary trek of the Volunteers which, because of severe and frosty weather, is known as the “Icy March” (late February-early May 1918). In the course of that march, the tiny force, which in February consisted of two to three thousand volunteers, crossed the distance between Rostov on-the Don and Ekaterinodar, the Kuban’s capital twice. They displayed remarkable strength of spirit and valor as they retreated through the steppe fighting continuous skirmishes against an

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enemy which was at times tenfold stronger. Any lost battle might have endangered the Army’s very existence. The Whites were decimated and lost one of their founders General Kornilov, killed by a Bolshevik artillery shell (Apr. 13, 1918), as though an ordinary (plain) bullet was unworthy of this extraordinary (daring) character (officer). But the Army itself survived this critical period under its new Commander-in-Chief Denikin. With the inflow of new volunteers, the Army continued to grow.62 The heroic struggles of the early period, especially of the Icy March, created legends, and what amounted virtually to a cult around the White Army. Here, at the moment of Russia’s greatest decline, amid widespread indifference and, as it was called, “class and regional egoism,” this small group of patriots jeopardized their lives for the sake of their motherland. This forged a particular esprit de corps amongst the original volunteers, and with it, contempt for everyone and everything outside the Army. Only the Army had sacrificed itself for the national good, and remained unsullied by subservience to any particular interests or by collaboration with national enemies. It was the Army alone that was able to free Russia from Bolshevik tyranny and from regional separatism. This tremendous prestige and the spirit prevalent among the officer corps was doubtlessly a key element solidifying the Army in difficult periods. Yet, the emphasis on the moral superiority of the Army, constantly accented by Denikin, made it difficult to consolidate the antiBolshevik camp in the South.63 The Brest-Litovsk Treaty completely changed the political and military situation in the South. As a result of it, the Bolsheviks had to leave Ukraine where the conservative regime of Hetman Skoropadskyi took over. Meanwhile the Don got rid of Soviet power and established a similar authority under General Krasnov, elected the ataman of the Don Host. Both regimes were pro-German and both rejected legislation introduced after the February Revolution, and so returned to the pre-revolutionary order. The White Army returning to the Don was thus faced with the option of either joining forces of the new regimes, or remaining loyal to Russia’s Western Allies and to the post revolutionary changes. Denikin chose the second alternative refusing to have anything in common with Skoropadskyi and Krasnov, thereby solidifying his liberal and pro-Allied credentials. In June 1918 Denikin initiated another Kuban campaign and completed it in August by capturing the Kuban land. Thereafter, the Whites ceased to be a “wandering camp” and gained a permanent territorial base. Kuban’s capital Ekaterinodar became the seat of the White command, while the Army grew to be one of the main centers of the anti-Bolshevik struggle in the South. After the collapse of the Central Powers in November 1918, which precipitated the fall of Skoropadskyi’s and Krasnov’s regimes, it became the only military

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power in the South. Thus, against all odds, the dreams of the Army’s founders seemed to have been fulfilled. Between December, 1917, and May, 1918, the “founding fathers” of the Army and of the White movement issued a number of declarations defining the goals of the Army. These were: 1. Restoration of the Russian State, as encapsulated in the slogan “great, one and indivisible Russia” (velikaia, edinaia i nedelimaia); 2. Uncompromising struggle with the Bolshevik regime; 3. Continuation of the war with the Central Powers, and loyalty to the Western Allies; 4. Non-predetermination of the state order until the convocation of the Constituent Assembly in a liberated Russia; 5. Separation of the Army from party politics and from any particular, class or regional interests. To these aims, Denikin formally added in October 1918 a principle which had been unofficially advocated much earlier, namely, a military dictatorship for the period of the war against the Bolsheviks. Around that time, the struggle against Germany was also dropped from the list of the Army’s aims because of the Allied victory in the Great War. From this point, up until Denikin’s resignation as commander-in-chief in April 1920, the Army’s ideology remained largely unchanged.64 In theory, White ideology was supposed to unify the nation around the Army. This is why it purposely employed broad definitions, strongly appealed to Russian patriotism and avoided any controversial issues which were postponed until the convocation of the Constituent Assembly. In practice, however, Denikin interpreted White ideology in such a ways as to contradict its original intentions. The first principle of fighting for all-Russian goals turned out in fact to be a fight for the preservation of the Russian Empire and for its centralized state order. Thus the Whites tolerated neither separatism—even in so mild forms as the Hetmanate in Ukraine and Krasnov’s Don—nor autonomous movements which sought to rebuild Russia as a federation. The former were accused of treason while the latter of “regional egoism” which in a time of war bordered on treason. This was a remarkably shortsighted, if not suicidal, policy, considering that Ukraine and the Don were willing to cooperate with the Whites against Soviet Russia, while the Kuban Cossacks—opponents of centralized state order—constituted an ever-increasing percentage of the White Army. Denikin, who chose Kuban’s capital Ekaterinodar as the seat of his authority, was, however, completely insensitive to local ambitions and instead

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displayed a Great Russian arrogance and imperialism. A rude demonstration of that attitude was Denikin’s toast made in the Kuban ataman residence, just a few days after recapturing Ekaterinodar: “Yesterday the Bolsheviks ruled in Ekaterinodar. Over this building floated a dirty red flag. Cursed yesterday. Today it is the Kuban flag that floats over the building. Strange today. But I believe that tomorrow the tricolor national Russian flag will fly . . . We will drink to that happy, joyous tomorrow.”65 Such attitudes and behavior by White leaders alienated the Kuban Cossacks as well as the other nationalities in the South. As a result, Anna Procyk argues, Denikin led in fact two parallel wars, one against the Bolsheviks and another against the nationalities in the borderlands.66 Such policy and behavior distinctly weakened the Whites and hampered, what they claimed to have been their fundamental aim—the struggle against the Bolsheviks (the second principle among Army’s goals). The third principle of loyalty to the Allies meant not only enmity towards Germany, but also towards pro-German political groups and remnants of Russian statehood. This prevented cooperation with the Right, which was the best organized and most influential segment of Russian civil society in the South between the summer and fall of 1918. It also excluded any compromise with Ukraine and the Don. The idea lying behind the Whites’ fourth principle, the non-predetermination policy and waiting for a future Constituent Assembly to make difficult decisions, had theoretical and practical justifications. On theoretical grounds, it was assumed that the White commanders had no right to change the existing state order, which was understood as the order established between the fall of autocracy and that of the Provisional Government. On practical grounds, it was argued that since any decision was bound to antagonize some segment of the population, it was better to postpone it until after the Civil War. However, as it turned out, that principle and policy did not serve the White cause well. On the contrary, the non-predetermination principle was one the greatest mistake of the Whites. First, since it meant a delay in social reforms, in particular the resolution of the urgent question of land reform, it estranged broad segments of the population. But Denikin, like the Kadets in the Provisional Government, preferred to antagonize the peasants rather than to bind policy-makers’ hands in a future Russia. Second, waiting for a future Constituent Assembly meant that the Constituent Assembly dispersed by the Bolsheviks was not valid. This alienated many socialists, particularly the Socialist Revolutionaries, who still considered it to be valid and who viewed the Whites as reactionaries and monarchists. Third, the non-predetermination policy gave the White leadership a pretext for rejecting a constitutional monarchy as one of the Army’s aims. In spite of Denikin’s eloquent defense of this decision in his Ocherki russkoi smuty, the rejection of monarchism

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actually weakened the White Army and movement.67 The officer corps of the Army was monarchist and showed a marked disdain for the idea of fighting for the Constituent Assembly. Moreover, the Right segment of civil society, as well as the Kadets, advocated a constitutional monarchy. This desire did not mean opposition to a Constituent Assembly; on the contrary, it made it a necessity. Thus, the problem could be reduced to the naming of a Romanov as titular head of the White movement. But, in spite of continuous pressure, Denikin was definitely against such a move. His obstinacy, particularly in the second half of 1918, when a strong monarchist movement emerged in the South, and the idea of a constitutional monarchy gained decisive support from the political elites’ majority, was utterly counterproductive.68 The fifth principle of White ideology, the separation of the Army from politics, served as an excuse for rejecting political initiatives undertaken outside the Army, and, simultaneously, as a means of refusing cooperation with antiBolshevik political elites. Such an interpretation of this principle did not exist at the beginning. As already mentioned General Alekseev, who was responsible for the Army’s political line, sought cooperation with the politicians. He was ready to follow their advice, even if compromises proposed by the multiparty organizations did not fully meet with his approval. However, signs of Alekseev’s illness, visible at least by the spring of 1918, prevented him from exercising effective control over political matters, and long before his death (October 8, 1918), Denikin assumed political leadership of the Army. Denikin’s own stance towards civil society and its political elites was radically different. The initiatives by the multiparty organizations which aimed at the restoration of an all-Russian or south-Russian authority did not gain his support. On the contrary, Denikin dismissed appeals for cooperation and help, and treated them as attempts to draw the Army into “narrow party politics,” conceived with no regard for the good of the country. Such a policy, implemented by the commander-in-chief of the White Army, frustrated all efforts at consolidating the anti-Bolsheviks camp in the South. Finally, a dictatorship of the Army’s commander-in-chief seems to have been Denikin’s long-term goal. It was argued that in view of mortal danger for Russia, dictatorial power was necessary to save the nation. However, Denikin was not open about his ambition. He did not say that he wanted power for himself nor did he officially assume the title of dictator. Unlike Kolchak who proclaimed himself the Supreme Ruler (Verkhovnyi Pravitel’) immediately after he took power, Denikin seemed to wait until others would acclaim him dictator. Month after month passed, and he continued to wait. It is true that in terms of real power, Denikin did not need the title of dictator. With the simple title “commander-in-chief” Denikin, in fact, had more power than Nicholas II who had been bound by law and by such institutions as the

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State Duma and Council. Denikin had none of these limitations. He could decree any law, provisional but in force until the future Constituent Assembly, and had no institution which could limit and control his authority. The Special Council which he revived in August 1918 after he had captured the Kuban—and which came the closest to something which could be called the White Government in the South—was purely advisory and Denikin appointed all of its members. Thus the lack of official dictatorial power would not have had any real meaning, if not speculations about appointing a Romanov the head of the White movement, or attempts to establish Russian authority that would rival Denikin’s power. Leaving aside the question of whether such speculations and attempts were good or bad for the White cause, they were obviously undermining his authority; therefore, his unwillingness to assume dictatorial power de iure, and his permanent status of “dictator manqué” clearly weakened the Whites. It is interesting to note that there were some within Russian society who approved Denikin’s usurpation of authority. The Kievan National Center and other nationalists close to Shulgin supported him without reservation. Denikin received similar support from the Kadets who filled most of the posts in his Special Council. By its very nature, civil society and its political elites had a profound sense of responsibility for Russia and for the Russian people. Under autocracy it was they, not the state and its bureaucracy, who had been the voice of the nation. Russia’s brief parliamentary experience did not weaken their sense of mission, but did produce among them a group of professional politicians who in the State Duma and other institutions gained experience in practical politics. In spite of differences within that elite group, their majority began increasingly to oppose autocracy, particularly during the Great War. Although in general, they welcomed the collapse of the Old Regime in early 1917, they did not necessarily accept all of what followed. On the contrary, most of them were deeply alarmed by the rapid radicalization of the revolutionary forces, by the weakening of the State and the Army, and by the ensuing disorder. The October 1917 coup proved that the political representatives of civil society were serious about their self-perceived responsibility for the nation and the state. Immediately after the coup, they stood at the forefront of the antiBolshevik struggle and attempted to restore Russian authority with the help of the nascent White Army in the South. That early attempt, undertaken on the Don, failed, revealing a wide gap between political elites and the White Army. The Army’s rejection of the political leadership in those early days of the White movement, its increasing bias against politics and politicians, and its aversion to compromise constituted an ominous auspice for the political elites and a sign of troubles to come.

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NOTES 1. Robert Edelman, Gentry Politics on the Eve of the Russian Revolution: The Nationalist Party 1907–1917 (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1980), 34–36. Interestingly, among right and center factions, the Pravye had the lowest percentage of nobles and the highest of priests (ibid. 36). Zamyslovskii was a Vilnius lawyer who in 1911 was the main prosecutor in the infamous Mendel Beilis case, in which a Jew was wrongly accused of ritual murder. Purishkevich was, in turn, a passionate lover of monarchy and a great orator, but naïve and detached from reality. Both resurfaced in 1918 in Kiev among the anti-Bolshevik extreme Right. 2. Richard Pipes, A Concise History of the Russian Revolution (New York: Vintage Books, 1996), 65; James D. White, The Russian Revolution 1917–1921: A Short History (New York: Arnold Publishers, 1995), 53–54. White quotes liberal Utro Rossii (Aug. 13, 1915) which gives a list of members of the new government, among them Miliukov, M. V. Rodzianko, A. I. Guchkov, N. V. Savich, and A. V. Krivoshein. 3. That was the claim of Kadets’ chairman, Professor Miliukov at the founding Congress of the Party of People’s Freedom, quoted by Pipes, Struve, 7. 4. Rosenberg, Liberals, 13–19; Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 27–31. 5. Rosenberg, Liberals, 18. 6. Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 31. Also, cf. Pipes, Struve, chapters 3–5, in particular pp. 211–14. 7. Robert Edelman, “The Election to the Third Duma: The Roots of the Nationalist Party,” in Leopold Haimson (ed.), The Politics of Rural Russia, 1905–1914 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1979), 105–110; Edelman, Gentry Politics, 49–52, 67–72, 77, 79, 143–46. 8. Edelman, Gentry Politics, 40, 68–69. 9. Edelman, Gentry Politics, 94–96, 145. 10. Edelman, Gentry Politics, 124–26, 169, 191. 11. Edelman, Gentry Politics, 167–89, 196–200. Gizhitskii and Bezak remained in Balashev’s group of regular nationalists (ibid. 167). 12. Edelman, Gentry Politics, 181–89. See also Shulgin’s memoirs in his Gody, published in Gody-Dni-1920 (Moskva: Novosti, 1990), 21–328 (transl. by Tanya Davis as The Years: Memoirs of a Member of the Russian Duma, 1906–1917, New York: Hippocrene Books, 1984). 13. Edelman, Gentry Politics, 209–12l; Haimson, Politics, 118. 14. White, Russian Revolution, 27–28, 35; Michael C. Brainerd, “The Octobrists and the Gentry, 1905–1907: Leaders and Followers?,” in Haimson, Politics, 68–70; 76–88; Edelman, Gentry Politics, 21, 37–39, 65, 167. 15. Brainerd, “The Octobrists and the Gentry,” 70–71, 86–67; Edelman, Gentry Politics, 94. 16. White, Russian Revolution, 38–39 17. George Katkov, Russia 1917: The February Revolution (New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1967), 152. Krivoshein was a respected agrarian specialist and long time minister of agriculture (1908–15) with ambitions to becoming prime minister

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(ibid. 134–35). Other ministers included A. A. Polivanov, A. D. Samarin, S. D. Sazonov and N. B. Shcherbatov. 18. For example, see W. Bruce Lincoln, Red Victory: A History of the Russian Civil War (New York: Da Capo Press, 1999), 30–34. 19. White, Russian Revolution, 73; Katkov, Russia 1917, 293. Katkov’s book is a classic on the February Revolution and is still one of the most thorough and powerful account of those events. 20. See Robert P. Browder and Alexander Kerensky (eds.), The Russian Provisional Government 1917: Documents, 3 vols. (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1961), I, 116. Mikhail’s resignation included a statement that the Provisional Government “is endowed with full power, until such time as the Constituent Assembly, to be convened . . . on the basis of a universal, direct, equal, and secret vote, by its decision on the form of government, expresses the will of the people.” Katkov claims that this act by Grand Duke Mikhail was illegal. Since Mikhail refused the throne, he was not an autocrat; therefore, he could not determine anything (Russia 1917, 407–15). 21. See Browder and Kerensky, Russian Provisional Government, I, 135–36; 196, 210–12. 22. See Browder and Kerensky, Russian Provisional Government, I, 157–58; II, 524–25, 527–28. 23. Rosenberg, Liberals, 58. Miliukov chose Lvov as Prime Minister because of his disassociation from politics—Lvov had been a Chairman of the Union of Zemstvos. 24. On Miliukov’s policy, Rosenberg, Liberals, 75; on land question, ibidem, 127–29, 144–45. 25. See Browder and Kerensky, Russian Provisional Government, II, 848–49. 26. Allan K. Wildman, The End of Russian Imperial Army (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), 76–115; Lincoln, Red Victory, 25–29. 27. Wildman, End of Russian Imperial Army, 192–201; 234–36; 244–45, 362–71. He shows that the desertion took place mostly in the rear, not frontline trenches and that the largest waves of desertion occurred only after the Bolsheviks seized power. 28. Lincoln, Red Victory, 40–43; cf. A. I Denikin, Ocherki russkoi smuty, 5 vols. (Paris: Povolozky; Berlin: Knigoizdatel’stvo “Slovo,” 1921–1926), II, 147–48. 29. Peter Kenez, Civil War in South Russia, 1918 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971), 31–40; Lincoln, Red Victory, 76, 79. 30. They were kept in the old monastery which had been turned into a jail, in Bykhov, just ten miles south (around 15 kilometers) from Mogilev (Mohylew) in Belarus, where the Army Headquarters (Stavka) was stationed. See Evan Mawdslay, The Russian Civil War (London: Allen & Unwin, 1987), 11–12. 31. Cf. John Channon, “The Peasantry in the Revolutions of 1917,” in Edith Rogovin Frankel, et al., (eds.), Revolution in Russia: Reassessments of 1917 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 106–24; Diane P. Koenker and William G. Rosenberg, “Perceptions and Realities of Labour Protest, March to October 1917,” ibid., 131–53.

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32. Lincoln, Red Victory, 37. He quotes French ambassador Maurice Paléologue who thought Kerensky acted “like a monomaniac or one possessed,” and British viceconsul Robert Bruce Lockhart who thought he was “more impressive in its emotional reactions than any [early] speech of Hitler.” 33. Frankel, Revolution in Russia, 17–25, 110–17. 34. Cf. Mawdslay, Russian Civil War, 7. The Bolsheviks were still a relatively minor force, although by October 1917 the party’s membership grew to 300,000. But as Mawdslay points out, eleven out of twelve Bolsheviks were newcomers, and only 24,000 of them had belonged to the party in February. 35. Pipes, Concise History, 139–40. Pipes provides interesting material which shows how the Bolsheviks doubled or tripled the number of their delegates from Soviets which they controlled in order to gain a majority at the Second Congress. As such this Congress did not reflect the true composition of the Soviets but was rather a Bolshevik manipulation. 36. Frankel, Revolution in Russia, 26–30; Mawdslay, Russian Civil War, 8–10. 37. See Lincoln, Red Victory, 133–58 for a brief summary of Bolshevik terror before September 1918. 38. Quoted in Mawdslay, Russian Civil War, 21–22. 39. Cf. White, Russian Revolution, 175–76. 40. Pipes, Concise History, 161–63. 41. Mawdslay, Russian Civil War, 46–49; Lincoln, Red Victory, 94–96; Pipes, Concise History, 181–82. After the Brest-Litovsk Treaty, the Czechs and Slovaks were afraid of being transferred to the Germans. The head of the Czechoslovak National Council in Paris, Thomas Masaryk, negotiated with the Bolsheviks the conditions for their transfer to the Far East. 42. Mawdslay, Russian Civil War, 56–68; Lincoln, Red Victory, 100–101. 43. For a short overview of those events, see Mawdslay, Russian Civil War, 104–111. For a detailed presentation, see Pereira, White Siberia, 44–106 and Smele, Civil War in Siberia, 10–107. 44. For a general survey of German-Bolshevik-Ukrainian negotiations, see John Wheeler-Bennett, Brest-Litovsk: The Forgotten Peace, March 1918 (London: Macmillan, 1938). 45. For a general survey of the origins of the White Army, see W. H. Chamberlin, The Russian Revolution, 2 vols. (New York: Macmillan, 1930), I, 378–88; David Footman, Civil War in Russia (London: Faber and Faber, 1961), 35–39, 44–46; Kenez, Civil War in South Russia, 1918, 44–87, particularly 55–58, 61–63, 68; Mawdsley, Russian Civil War, 20–22, 94–96; Lincoln, Red Victory, 74–82, 86–92. 46. “Alekseev o proiskhozhdenii Dobrovol’cheskoi Armii,” in S. A. Piontkovskii (ed.), Grazhdanskaia voina v Rossii 1918–1921 g.g.: khrestomatiia (Moskva: Izdanie Kommunistich. Universiteta im. Ia. M. Sverdlova, 1925), 496–99; “Alekseev Appeals for Allied Aid,” Communication to the Chief of the French Mission in Kiev, Feb. 9, 1918, in J. Bunyan and H. H. Fisher (eds.), The Bolshevik Revolution, 1917–1918 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1934), 425–27; Denikin, Ocherki, II, 156–57. Cf. Lincoln, Red Victory, 76–78. Under the Provisional Government General Alek-

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seev was also de iure the commander-in-chief, until General Kornilov replaced him on that post in July 1917. 47. Denikin, Ocherki, II, 145–56, 188–89. Cf. Rosenberg, Liberals, 308; Mawdslay, Russian Civil War, 11–12. 48. “Alekseev o proiskhozhdenii Dobrovol’cheskoi Armii,” 497; K. N. Sokolov, Pravlenie generala Denikina (Sofia: Rossiisko-bolgarskoe knigoizdatel’stvo, 1921), 3–4; Delo Borisa Savinkova (Moskva: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel’stvo, 1924), 32; Denikin, Ocherki, II, 187–88; V. V. Shul’gin “Dokladnaia zapiska,” memorandum to General A. M. Dragomirov, Kievskaia Azbuka, Sept. 5, 1918, in Wrangel Military Archive, file 136, Hoover Institution, Stanford University, thereafter rendered as WMA; Rosenberg, Liberals, 308. 49. Denikin, Ocherki, II, 99–102; Lincoln, ibid.; Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 35–38. She points out that in the earliest period of the White movement in November 1917, General Alekseev was already worried about Ukrainian separatism and thought about how to prevent its growth, and how to combat it. He was equally indignant about signs of separatism among Kuban politicians. 50. “Alekseev Appeals for Allied Aid”; Denikin, Ocherki, II, 156–60. 51. Denikin, Ocherki, II, 187–90; A. S. Lukomskii, Vospominaniia, 2 vols. (Berlin: Otto Kirchner, 1922), I, 280–84; Rosenberg, Liberals, 311; Kenez, Civil War, 75–78. 52. Denikin, ibid.; Lukomskii, ibid.; P. N. Miliukov, Russia Today and Tomorrow (New York: Macmillan, 1922), 138–39; Rosenberg, Liberals, 310–12; Kenez, Civil War, 74–78. One of Denikin’s main theses in his Ocherki, is that the Army was above politics, parties and interests because it fought for Russia alone. Politics and politicians in particular, were obstacles in that struggle and therefore true patriots should avoid them. 53. “Alekseev o proiskhozhdenii Dobrovol’cheskoi Armii,” 497; “Pis’mo generala ot infanterii M. V. Alekseeva k general-leitenantu M. K. Dideriksu, 8–go noiabria 1917g.,” Beloe delo 1 (1926): 77–82; “The Organization of the Anti-Bolshevik Movement in the Southeast,” Extracts from a Report by U.S. Consul Dewitt Poole, January 26, 1918 quoted in Bunyan and Fisher, Bolshevik Revolution, 411–414; Rosenberg, Liberals, 310–12; Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 37. Kenez, Civil War, 73–77. 54. “Alekseev o proiskhozhdenii Dobrovol’cheskoi Armii,”; “The Organization of the Anti-Bolshevik Movement in the Southeast”; Delo Borisa Savinkowa, 32–33; K. Vendziagol’skii, “Savinkov,” Novyi zhurnal, no. 70 (1962): 155; Denikin, Ocherki, II, 190; Rosenberg, Liberals, 310–12. The Council was also to admit more representatives of the Left, including A. A. Argunov, N. V. Chaikovskii, and the Marxists, G. V. Plekhanov and E. D. Kuskova. 55. Denikin, Ocherki, II, 193–94; Rosenberg, Liberals, 312. 56. “Politicheskaia programma gen. Kornilova,” Arkhiv russkoi revolutsii, IX (1923): 285–86 (abbreviated as ARR). Kornilov stated in it that the Bolsheviks “playing on the lowest instinct of the rabble” established “a despotic dictatorship of the mob which threatens to ruin the historical attainment of the country.” His general aims were to destroy the “Bolshevik autocracy” (sic!), to restore order, to reestablish the rights of citizens and “other worthwhile conquests of the revolution,” and to lead

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Russia “along the sublime path of freedom to a lasting peace . . .” In particular he promised among other things: legal and political equality for all Russian citizens regardless of sex and nationality; reestablishment of private property; freedom of speech, the press and religious freedom; restoration of the Constituent Assembly dissolved by the Bolsheviks; resolution of the land question by the Constituent Assembly, and the rights of nationalities to “extensive local autonomy provided that the unity of the state is preserved.” Russia was also to fulfill all the obligations arising from the treaties with the Allies, and the future peace was to include “the right of selfdetermination of oppressed nations.” The program was in many ways similar to White political declarations, yet it departed from them in a few important points: the accent on civic rights and freedoms was much stronger, while the promise to reestablish the Constituent Assembly dispersed by the Bolsheviks and to give large autonomy to nationalities, and the rights of self-determination to “oppressed nations” contradicted bluntly White principles and policies. No wonder that this program enraged not only Alekseev but also Miliukov, “the dean of Russian liberals,” as he was sometimes called. Cf. Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 42–43. 57. Cf. “Alekseev o proiskhozhdenii Dobrovol’cheskoi Armii,” 498. In that interview, Alekseev answering the question about the Army’s leadership, stated that at the head of the Volunteer Army are Generals Kornilov and Denikin. 58. Among the exceptions General P. N. Wrangel is worth mentioning. See his Always with Honour (New York: R. Speller, 1957). But even he, while openly critical of his command, assumed that Denikin was a simple officer on whose shoulders destiny laid too great a task. For obvious reason Soviet historiography did not tend to be liberal towards Denikin. 59. A good example of that is Denikin’s relation to Shulgin and his counterintelligence organization “Azbuka.” It would be difficult to find anyone more loyal to Denikin and the Army than Shulgin. He supported the Volunteer Army from its earliest days by sending money, officers and intelligence reports. For example the following documents in WMA, file 136: General M. V. Alekseev to V. V. Shul’gin, correspondence, Aug. 28, 1918; V. V. Shul’gin to General A. M. Dragomirov, “Dokladnaia zapiska,” Sept. 5, 1918; Nemo, Azbuka report, Sept. 29/16, 1918; “Izhe ot Vedi,” Azbuka report, Sept. 30, 1918 (O. S.); V. V. Shul’gin, “Istoricheskaia spravka,” memorandum, Azbuka, (n. d.); “Doklad,” Azbuka report, Nov. 6, 1919. He and the organizations he controlled—Azbuka and the Kievan National Center—stood for military dictatorship of Denikin and defended that idea among Russian political elites. For example: M. V. Rodzianko, V. A. Stepanov, V. V. Shul’gin to Grand Duke [Nikolai Nikolaevich], Azbuka, (n. d.), WMA, file 136; “Slovu ot Aza,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Dec. 20, 1918, WMA, file 136; Azbuka report, otdelenie pri Stavke, Mar. 22, 1919, WMA, file 130. In Odessa, he was instrumental in preventing the formation of the South Russian Government during the French intervention because he was afraid that it would have threatened Denikin’s authority (cf. chapter on the Odessa period). But Shulgin did it because he thought that Russia’s interest required it, not because he was Denikin’s pawn. So when he saw that Denikin’s policy in Odessa was wrong, he did not hide his criticism in confidential reports sent to Denikin’s Special Council in Ekaterinodar, while still remaining supportive on the outside. For example,

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V. V. Shul’gin to V. A. Stepanov, correspondence, Azbuka report, Odessa, Feb. 6 (19), 1919, WMA, file 136. In spite of all of this, Denikin accused Shulgin and Azbuka of being blindly monarchist and of undermining officers’ loyalty towards himself (Ocherki, III, 85–86). Yet, he failed to notice what was really striking in Azbuka reports, namely, blatant Great Russian chauvinism and hatred of any trace of separatism or local patriotism, in particular in Ukraine. As a good Russian “liberal,” Denikin seemed to not mind it. 60. One does not have to be a psychologist to see that Denikin seemed to be insecure and that his sense of insecurity probably stemmed from his low social origins (his father, a Russian officer, was born a serf), mixed national descent (his mother was Polish) and his relatively low stature among Russian generals at the beginning of the Civil War (cf. Ocherki, I pt 2, 128). As political initiatives were advanced by leading representatives of society, often high born, and as members of the Romanov family were proposed to take his place in the White movement, Denikin used the best tactics he knew—he sabotaged all plans which could have threatened his position. Cf. Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 60–61. 61. Denikin, Ocherki, II, 160–66, 173, 200, 219–20; Lukomskii, Vospominaniia, II, 276–80. Lincoln, Red Victory, 79–82. 62. In March, the Volunteer Army was joined by the forces of Kuban Government (around 3000 men). After the Icy March, the Army had about 5000 men and about 10000 in June, see Denikin, Ocherki, II, 282, 345. 63. One has to keep in mind, however, that as new officers jointed and as the Army resorted to a draft, its high spirit and morale deteriorated rapidly. By 1919 the White Army became well known for its plunder, pillages and pogroms. 64. Appeals, declarations and other documents issued between December 1917 and October 1918. See A. I. Denikin, Ocherki, I part 2, 196; II, 198–199; 341–432, and III, 130–131; 262; 267–270; B. Kazanovich, “Poezdka iz Dobrovol’cheskoi armii v ‘Krasnuiu Moskvu’.” APR 7 (1922): 186. 65. See A. P. Filimonov, “Razgrom kubanskoi rady,” APR V (1922): 324. 66. Procyk, Russian Nationalism, passim. 67. Vol. III, 128–133; see also Denikin, Put’ russkogo ofitsera (New York, 1953), 96. 68. Cf. chapter IV and V.

Chapter III

Moscow: High Hopes

When seeking the origins of the White movement, the historical scholarship points to the initiative of General Mikhail Alekseev undertaken in November of 1917 on the territory of the Don Cossacks. Far less known is the history of another anti-Bolshevik initiative undertaken simultaneously by Russian political elites. Like Alekseev, they had only all-Russian goals. However, unlike him, their main aim was to politically organize Russian civil society and to restore an all-Russian government. Going on the assumption that any differences between the Russians were unimportant as compared to the threat of Bolshevism, the elites attempted to find common grounds for all parties and groups in the mainstream of civil society. A political opposition to Bolshevism formulated in this manner would have had the legitimate right to represent Russia and thus to restore state authority. In cooperation with various military anti-Bolshevik forces and with the parallel armed intervention of the Western Allies behind the Urals, that government would then overthrow the Soviet regime. The purpose of this chapter is to investigate the Moscow period of the White political opposition to Soviet power.

THE ORIGINS AND ACTIVITY OF THE MULTIPARTY ORGANIZATIONS The origins of the political opposition against the Bolshevik regime can be traced back to the summer of 1917.1 At that time the second Russian capital, Moscow, became the gathering place for many leading political figures who, disenchanted with the course of the Revolution, began seeking remedies for the growing civil disorder and disintegration of the Russian Empire. In July36

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August 1917, some moderate politicians of the Right and Center decided to abandon party loyalty and to create a non-socialist multiparty alliance, the socalled Union of Public Figures (Soiuz obshchestvennykh deiatelei).2 The Union’s principal aim was to recreate a strong state authority which would reestablish internal order and continue the war effort against Germany. Furthermore, it advocated agrarian and labor reforms while opposing economic socialism; it wanted to defend the new democratic order from both growing socialist anarchy and the remnants of the Old Regime. The Union included the former Chairman of the State Duma M. V. Rodzianko, the Chairman of the Constitutional Democratic Party P. N. Miliukov, the former Commanderin-Chief General Alekseev, several other distinguished members of the legislative chambers (State Duma and Council), as well as representatives of various parties, professional organizations and the Union of Officers. The liberal Kadet party constituted its core.3 The Union’s First Congress in Moscow in early August of 1917 attracted many delegates, including representatives of the Army Headquarters and the Union of Officers, among them General A. M. Kaledin, the future ataman of the Don Host, under whose protection General Alekseev would found the Volunteer Army. The Congress consolidated the future right wing of the Moscow State Conference. In this way opposition politicians encountered disenchanted Army commanders with whom they found common ground in criticizing the Provisional Government and socialists in general. The rejection of party politics and calls for putting the good of Russia and of the national interest first (nadpartiinost’) were the main theme of the Congress. It also chose the Union’s Executive Committee which included Rodzianko, Miliukov, Alekseev and S. N. Tret’iakov, a representative of the Commercial and Industrial Union (Torgovo-promyshlennyi soiuz). During the second Congress of the Union of Public Figures, convened in Moscow just before the Bolshevik coup, these bonds between the politicians and the Army’s representatives were strengthened: officers comprised a large group at the Congress and the Army was the focus of most of the debates.4 After the Bolshevik coup d’état in November 1917, Soviet authority spread rapidly throughout the provinces of the former Russian Empire. In the ensuing chaos, the Bolsheviks began to build the foundation for their new regime. Yet the release of gigantic contradictions that helped the Bolsheviks to come to power was not necessarily in agreement with the aims of the new regime. Although the Bolsheviks were able to impose their authority immediately in the center of the country, they were too weak to accomplish the same results in the borderlands. On the contrary, the border regions became the domain of their enemies. But challenges to the Soviet regime coming from the borderlands had a fundamental weakness: however powerful they were in their

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regions, without the consolidation of their efforts, they posed only a local danger and could not threaten Soviet power in the Russian heartland. In view of this basic weakness, the initiatives undertaken by the Russian political elites in Moscow between the fall of 1917 and the summer of 1918 acquire a special significance. Since revolutionary fever and the Bolsheviks’ grip on power in this city was relatively milder than those in Petrograd, Moscow attracted leaders of many political parties, local self-governments and professional associations; this process already began after the February Revolution. Moscow thus became the seat of the anti-Bolshevik political elites in the spring and summer of 1918.5 Working underground, right under the noses of the Bolsheviks, these elites was able to gradually formulate a program for the restoration of an all-Russian authority which was to end the fragmentation of the anti-Bolshevik camp and lead it to victory over the Soviet regime. The Union of Public Figures remained inactive for several months after the Bolsheviks seized power,. Some of its leaders, such as Miliukov, Rodzianko and General Alekseev left the territory controlled by the Soviet regime. Others, who remained in Moscow, attempted to revive the Union in early 1918. To achieve this goal, they invited new representatives from industrial, agricultural, academic and even socialist circles to enter the Union’s Executive Committee. It seems that D. M. Shchepkin, a former minister of internal affairs in the Provisional Government, replaced Rodzianko as the chairman.6 The scope of Union’s underground activities in Moscow was, however, limited: it did not go much beyond the exchange of political views among its members. By that time, the Union ceased to be a political center for antiBolshevik opposition, although it still remained an important forum for shaping Moscow oppositional public opinion.7 Evolving toward the Right, the Union survived until a wave of arrests in mid-1919. Already in November of 1917, to supersede the loosely bound Union of Public Figures, A. V. Krivoshein, a former minister of agriculture, Professor P. I. Novgorodtsev, then the head of the Kadet party, and several other political activists founded a smaller, conspiratorial body. It was called the “Nine” (deviatka) because initially the group consisted of three delegates each from the Union of Public Figures, the Kadet party, and the Commercial and Industrial Union.8 Unlike the Union of Public Figures, which at that time still included some moderate left elements, the Nine exclusively represented the liberal center and the rightist segments of civil society. Headed by Novgorodtsev, the Nine soon grew much beyond its original size. Among its members were such important politicians, intellectuals and businessmen as N. I. Astrov, M. M. Fedorov, V. I. Gurko, V. A. Stepanov, N. A. Berdiaev, N. N. Shchepkin, D. N. Shipov, P. B. Struve, S. A. Morozov, and S. N. Tret’iakov. In its initial stage the group did not yet foresee the formation of a new government. Its principle

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aim was to organize officers living in Moscow and, with this force, to overthrow the Bolshevik regime, which still seemed a relatively simple task. Moscow business circles were to provide the funds for this venture. Sometime in February-March 1918, this organization became known as the Right Center (Pravyi Tsentr) or Moscow Center. At this time Krivoshein became its leader.9 The Right Center and its successor group, the National Center encountered numerous obstacles in enlisting officers, and ultimately they failed to create a viable military force. Contacts with officers were not easy. Most were passive and the Center was unable to find a commander of sufficient military stature to attract volunteers. Gurko, who next to Stepanov, was originally in charge of maintaining contacts with officers, mentions two leaders of the Military Section, Generals Dovgirt and Dreier, Brusilov’s chief of staff. The former was little known, while the latter was suspected of collaboration with the Cheka. General A. A. Brusilov himself agreed to lead the Section if the number of its officers reached at least 6000. However, it appears that the Center was only in touch with 800 volunteers. The Center spent about 800,000 rubles per month giving 250 rubles per each officer.10 Since that meager allowance barely allowed volunteers to survive in Moscow, other groups, especially Boris Savinkov’s organization, were more successful in recruiting Moscow officers. Unlike the Center, these groups sometimes advocated raising insurrections outside of Moscow. They therefore sent volunteers away to provincial towns and, from the summer of 1918, to the East.11 In July, General Alekseev also appealed to officers from Moscow to come to the South and protested against holding them in the capital.12 These factors, as well as the growing Bolshevik terror, gradually weakened the military organizations in Moscow. Although some survived perhaps until early 1919, their actual military significance ended with Savinkov’s uprising in July 1918. The Soviet-German peace negotiations and subsequent Brest-Litovsk Peace Treaty turned the attention of the Moscow political opposition again to the problem of Russian international policy. The territorial losses which deprived Russia of “everything that it acquired to the West since the early 17th century,” produced widespread indignation.13 The anti-Bolshevik intelligentsia was unified in its rejection of the Brest-Litovsk Peace, but opinions differed as to the proper response. The liberal and left segments of civil society tended to believe that a close alliance with the Entente was the best policy. As they argued, the Peace was concluded by usurpers, the Bolsheviks, and was therefore not valid. Previous agreements with the West had to be honored. So far Russia, as a part of the coalition against the Central Powers, had not lost the war but only a campaign. By fighting against the Germans and their puppets the Bolsheviks, Russian patriots could expect Western aid and hope that the victory of the Allies over Germany would also mean their

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triumph over the Soviet regime.14 The rightist majority, however, maintained that the Germans were the more promising ally. In their view, the collapse of order and the signing of the Brest-Litovsk Peace made the Germans the real masters in Russia. The Germans would renegotiate the Peace Treaty and remove the Bolsheviks from Moscow if they believed that the true representatives of Russia, civil society, would guarantee them lasting friendship. As for loyalty to the Allies, the Right believed that the Western powers had forfeited Russia’s loyalty by making excessive military demands and by their readiness to recognize the Bolshevik regime if it continued the war against Germany.15 The controversy over an Allied or a German orientation led to a deep conflict within the Right Center. The pro-Allied minority viewed the landing of a small British corps in Murmansk in March 1918 and the Japanese landing in Vladivostok in April 1918 as proof that the Entente had not written off Russia. Contact with Western, mostly French diplomats in Moscow strengthened this belief. A proposal sent from Paris by Russian émigré circles suggested the possibility of a second, Eastern front, formed by the Allies and the antiBolsheviks, behind the Urals.16 The French Consul General Fernand Grenard passed the project through to anti-Soviet Russian politicians. This action, along with other French hints about an Allied landing in Russia, made it appear that the plan was the official policy of the Entente.17 Thus, when at the end of May the Czecho-Slovak legion began its extraordinary venture— which soon gave it control of the entire Trans-Siberian Railroad and adjacent territories—the prospect of the second front seemed to be a reality. The pro-German majority was, on the other hand, warning of the likelihood of territorial losses in Siberia since the Japanese would not help Russia “just for her beautiful eyes.”18 Moreover, according to some military specialists, the accumulation of a substantial force in the Urals would take six to eight months, leaving in the meantime the Russian heartland at the mercy of the Bolsheviks and Germans. Some monarchists also considered the fate of the Tsar’s family; they hoped that the Germans would have greater leverage and willingness to pressure the Soviet regime to save the Romanovs.19 The growing polarization of opinions and factional struggles in the Right Center found its natural solution at the end of May or beginning of June. At that time the pro-Allied minority, supported by the prestige of the Volunteer Army of Generals Alekseev and Denikin—its envoy was in Moscow at that time—left the organization and founded a new organization, the National Center (Natsional’nyi Tsentr).20 The majority, which remained in the Right Center, continued its futile talks with Ambassador Wilhelm von Mirbach and other German diplomats. However, the Germans, who never seriously committed themselves to the removal of the Bolsheviks, rejected outright the Center’s advances, when they realized that it represented not civil society as a whole but

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a faction. The Right Center also maintained contacts with the Allied diplomats in Moscow even after it had adopted a pro-German policy. Its members tried to convince Consul Grenard that Russia was no longer at war and that they had to seek German aid in order to overthrow the Bolshevik regime. Needless to say, Grenard could not respond positively to their arguments and ruled out the possibility that such Russian politicians would gain Allied friendship.21 The orientation controversy determined the choice which the centrist and rightist politicians had to make between the Right and National Centers. For example Miliukov, a distinguished liberal, remained in the Right Center because of his pro-German stance.22 Yet the Right Center, freed from most of its moderate activists, became increasingly conservative. The model which it envisioned for the regeneration of Russia was similar to that of the Time of Troubles (1601–13). Thus the Center’s politicians anticipated the restoration of order in Russia through a series of military initiatives in the provinces. They believed that local military organizations, acting independently, would clear their territories of the Bolsheviks; the Volunteer Army in the South would be one of such forces. Gradually, they maintained, military leaders would subordinate themselves to the central commander in the Moscow region. After the restoration of order, a Zemskii Sobor or a Constituent Assembly (as a more moderate wing advocated) would convene to ordain the fundamental laws of the Russian Empire and to elect a new Tsar.23 Not surprisingly, Denikin was not inclined to accept a scheme which reduced the Volunteer Army to one of many equal forces in the anti-Bolshevik camp. By the end of the summer of 1918, the Center ceased to function, having accomplished little of its domestic or foreign agenda. Most of its activists headed south, mainly to Ukraine.24 Some later reemerged as participants in a conservative alliance, the State Unity Council of Russia. Unlike the Right Center, the National Center was a coalition of “concerned citizens,” rather than a forum of party representatives in a multiparty structure. It was predominantly a Kadet organization, although it also included non-socialist political activists recruited from the Union of Public Figures, the Commercial and Industrial Union, the Orthodox Church, Old-Believer circles, and urban and local self-governments (duma; zemstvo).25 Kadet politicians, Astrov, Fedorov and Stepanov, played principal roles in the new organization. In June 1918, the Center asked General Alekseev to become its leader.26 Alekseev’s answer is unknown, but even if he agreed, because of communication difficulties between Moscow and the Don-Kuban region, his function would have been only titular. From September 1918, the head of the Center in Moscow was D. N. Shipov, a former Octobrist and Zemstvo leader, whose moral authority was greatly respected even by his adversaries.27

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The National Center considered the good of the Russian State (gosudarstvennost’) to be the highest cause and thus condemned class struggle, party politics and national movements in the borderlands which it branded as “separatist.” In contrast to the Left and Right which were willing to accommodate nationalities through the idea of a federal state order, the Kadets in the National Center rejected federalism, and supported extreme centralism.28 Searching for principles and policies that could unify the patriotic elements in civil society, the Center advocated a constitutional monarchy, urged the creation of a united Russian armed forces, stressed loyalty to the Allies and, naturally, took an uncompromising anti-German and anti-Bolshevik stance. As the future monarch and the commander-in-chief, it proposed Grand Duke Mikhail Aleksandrovich, and General Alekseev respectively. Yet, to accommodate the socialists, the Center deemed it necessary to postpone the proclamation of the monarchy until order was reestablished.29 In view of the expected Allied intervention behind the Urals and Volga, the Center began to consider the formation of an all-Russian government in the East with the participation of all anti-Bolshevik and anti-German forces, especially the Volunteer Army, and advised it to move to the East.30 Contacts with Allied diplomats about the second front in the East as well as the activity of the left wing Kadets, brought the Center into negotiations with another multiparty coalition existing in Moscow: the Union for Regeneration. The Union for the Regeneration of Russia (Soiuz Vozrozhdeniia Rossii) was founded in April 1918. Although theoretically, it was to unite all of civil society, in fact, it attracted only its leftist segments. For this reason the organization was sometimes called the Left Center (Levyi Tsentr).31 The Union included activists from the Popular Socialists (A. V. Peshekhonov, A. A. Titov, N. V. Chaikovskii), Right Socialist Revolutionaries (N. D. Avksent’ev, A. A. Argunov, B. N. Moiseenko), Social Democrats of the Unity branch (Edinstvo) and of Defensists (Oborontsy). Since, like the National Center, it was a coalition of persons not parties, some left Kadets participated in both multiparty organizations (Astrov, N. N. Shchepkin, Stepanov, N. K. Volkov).32 The Union had particularly strong ties with the Popular Socialists. They had identical agendas, moreover, the chairman of the Popular Socialists V. A. Miakotin also led the Union. The Union shared with the National Center some fundamental principles, including a high regard for state interests, an ardent anti-German and proAllied attitude, and anti-Bolshevism. Yet, as an alliance of the Left, the Union abhorred monarchy in any form, stressed the need for social reforms, preferred a federal rather than a centralized Russian state, and had an ambivalent attitude toward the Volunteer Army of Alekseev-Denikin.33 Not fully trusting the progressive credentials of that army, the Union attempted to organize its

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own military force in Moscow and in various provincial towns. Later, it tried to transfer that force to the East.34 Leftist parties had maintained close ties with the Allied representatives in Moscow even before the Union was formed. They tried to deliver a message to Western diplomats that the Brest-Litovsk Treaty was devoid of legitimacy, and that Russia still continued to be at war with Germany. After the Union was founded these principles were included in its program. On the question of the second front behind the Urals, the Union’s position was that the Japanese had to be a part of a larger Allied force. Russian society would welcome military intervention if the Allies guaranteed Russia’s territorial integrity, did not burden it with new military obligations, and did not interfere in Russia’s internal affairs.35 Having agreed to the Union’s demands, the French insisted that all “democratic” forces create one anti-Bolshevik front and form an all-Russian Government. They also suggested that provisionally this authority should be a directory, i.e., a collective dictatorship, and that the Constituent Assembly—dispersed by the Bolsheviks in January 1918—sanction it.36 The last two propositions proved very controversial. Both the Union for Regeneration and the National Center saw the importance of a unified Russian position vis-à-vis the Western governments. Both organizations also aspired to being the exclusive intermediary between the Allied diplomats in Moscow and the various political groups seeking financial aid. Therefore, they agreed to have common representation on the outside.37 The Center and the Union also shared the reestablishment of an allRussian authority as a fundamental goal. Yet ultimately, they could not unite their organizations and had difficulty in forming a coalition government because of disagreements over the legitimacy of the dissolved Constituent Assembly, and the nature of the future all-Russian Government. Their antagonistic party backgrounds additionally hindered political cooperation. The National Center believed that the Constituent Assembly elected in 1917 was no longer politically relevant. It viewed that Assembly as the symbol of revolutionary fever and paralysis of state authority, and feared that its revival might have deepened Russia’s anarchy. For these reasons, the Center unequivocally refused to recognize the Constituent Assembly’s authority. The Center maintained that the future order would be decided by a new assembly, convened in a Russia freed from the Bolsheviks.38 In this respect, the Center was uncompromising, and French wishes could not change its position. It is worth noting that the leaders of the Volunteer Army held the same opinion. On the second question, i.e., the nature of an all-Russian government, the Center was much more accommodating. Although it believed that a military dictatorship, introduced for the period of struggle against the Bolsheviks, was

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the quickest way to defeat the Soviet regime—this was its position in negotiations with the Union for Regeneration and in its correspondence with General Alekseev—the Center was ready to accept a directory for the sake of unity. Only in the fall of 1918, when it began to support Denikin’s claim to exclusive leadership in the anti-Bolshevik struggle, the National Center wanted its earlier policy in the summer appear much less compromising.39 In turn, the Union for Regeneration formally agreed on the Constituent Assembly, but in fact was seriously divided on this issue. The Socialist Revolutionaries, who had the majority in this Assembly, upheld its legitimacy. On the issue of an all-Russian authority, the Union firmly opposed military dictatorship, even for a provisional period. Obsessively fearful of reactionaries, the Union believed that such a dictatorship could be a vehicle for restoring the Old Regime. It therefore preferred a three-man directory, in which civilian politicians would safeguard Russia’s newly won freedom.40 Although unable to merge, both organizations appeared close enough to work together toward common goals. The prospect of the second front and strong Allied pressure fortified the impetus for cooperation. As a result, the National Center and the Union for Regeneration achieved a compromise, concluded in June 1918. That compromise stipulated that the dissolved Constituent Assembly would not be revived, and that the all-Russian Government— constructed on freed territories in the East—would take the form of a threeman-directory composed of a military commander and two politicians, one socialist and one non-socialist. A further understanding put General Alekseev in the leading position among the candidates for the military post in the directory. The other nominees, General V. G. Boldyrev and Admiral A. V. Kolchak, had a secondary status. In the socialist category, Avksent’ev and Chaikovskii were viewed as the most appropriate compromise candidates. N. M. Kishkin, Stepanov and Astrov were considered for the non-socialist post.41 Yet, this compact encountered serious difficulties as soon as it began to be implemented. Each organization mistrusted the other. Not without reason each anticipated that the loyalty of the other was qualified, and that, in certain conditions, one side might try to deceive the other. Thus, the compromise, which was supposed to bring them closer, in fact, became the cause of future discord and mutual recriminations. The National Center expected that its favorite, the Volunteer Army, would move to the Volga region to take a position on the southern flank of the second front. That army would then become a rallying point for all antiBolsheviks in the East. This, in turn, would make possible the formation of an all-Russian government and its armed force—one Russian Army—both led by General Alekseev. The Center further assumed that experience would

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correct the impractical provision about the directorial form of the government and that the new authority would evolve into a de facto dictatorship.42 While the Center activists began in June to leave Moscow for the South to promote these objectives, the members of the Union for the Regeneration of Russia opted to go to the East where the situation looked more advantageous for their cause. The prospect of the second front seemed to move the heart of the struggle from the South to the East. The Volunteer Army was no longer the only national anti-Bolshevik force in Russia because, after the CzechoSlovak uprising, new anti-Soviet military and political centers appeared in the East. These centers were predominantly left-leaning, with the moderate SRs as a prevailing force, and were often organized with the active participation of members of the dissolved Constituent Assembly. The slogan: “All Power to the Constituent Assembly” resounded widely throughout the Urals, Siberia and on the Volga.43 These new circumstances were evident at the State Conference held in Ufa between September 8 and 23, 1918, which was to choose the all-Russian Government.44 The conference gathered representatives of several governments and political organizations but the delegates of the National Center and the Volunteer Army were missing. Although certainly influenced by the Moscow compact reached in June, the conference departed from it on several crucial points. All but one of the members of the newly elected Directory had been previously accepted in Moscow, yet by choosing the Directory of Five instead of Three and by selecting most of them from among the leftist candidates, the Ufa State Conference, shifted the Government substantially to the left.45 Similar “adjustments” of the Moscow agreement were made with regard to the dissolved Constituent Assembly. The Directory would not be initially responsible to this body, but the Assembly would resume its legislative role if 250 of its members could gather prior to January 13, or 170 prior to February 13, 1919.46 Throughout the summer of 1918, the National Center observed with apprehension the course of events in the East. The tilt to the left aroused alarm even before the decisions of the Ufa Conference reached the South. Yet, the Center was not ready to relinquish the idea of an all-Russian Government formed by political forces of civil society. It still urged General Alekseev to go to the East, even after its original plan to move the whole White Army proved unrealistic. The prestige of the Volunteer Army and of the General personally, seemed so great that, as was a priori assumed, no one would dare to question his claim to the leadership in the future directory. Furthermore, the Center believed that Alekseev’s presence would counterbalance leftist influences and endow the directory with sufficient authority to be recognized as

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the truly all-Russian Government by a clear majority of anti-Bolshevik forces.47 Alekseev understood this singular opportunity for uniting the political work of civil society with the military action conducted by the various armies in the South and East. Although he preferred a dictatorship to a directory, he reconciled himself with the latter out of political expediency. Unlike Denikin, Alekseev did not question or ridicule the ability of civilian politicians to reestablish political order in Russia. Therefore, in spite of extraordinary obstacles, Alekseev was ready to travel to the East along with General A. M. Dragomirov. Yet, the trip was repeatedly postponed, first because of military reasons and later because of his poor health.48 His death on October 8, 1918 put an end to this plan. After Alekseev’s death the situation changed dramatically. By then, it was evident that the Allied involvement in the East possessed limited scope. Moreover, the expected defeat of the Germans on the Western front and the opening the Straits to the Black Sea seemed to move the focus of the antiBolshevik struggle from the East back to the South. Denikin now did not have to compromise with the political initiative which he resented. Therefore, on October 25, 1918, soon after he learned about the results of the Ufa Conference, he refused unequivocally to recognize the Directory as the allRussian authority and considered it only as one of many local governments.49 The National Center, whose main leaders were at that time in Kiev and Ekaterinodar, hesitated at first, but ultimately yielded to Denikin’s pressure and followed his lead.50 The Union for Regeneration chose another path. It continued to support the Directory’s claim to supreme authority in Russia until it learned that Kolchak’s coup on November 18, 1918 abolished that institution.51

SAVINKOV’S INSURRECTION The various initiatives undertaken in Moscow throughout 1918 led not only to the emergence of the Ufa Directory, and to the emigration of Russian political elites to the South and East. Because of Boris Savinkov’s activity, they had a military epilogue as well. An indefatigable revolutionary, Savinkov left the Don in January 1918 furnished with dubious credentials extracted from the leaders of the Volunteer Army. These allowed him to present himself in Moscow as an emissary of Generals Alekseev and Kornilov.52 He immediately entered into contact with many groups of officers and began to form his own military organization the Union for the Defense of the Fatherland and Freedom (Soiuz Zashchity Rodiny i Svobody).53

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Savinkov was the first to gain access to Allied diplomats in Moscow and procured significant financial aid for the Union. Money received in April 1918 from the Czecho-Slovak leaders and later from the French Embassy enabled him to compete effectively with the Right Center for the services of officers. His socialist background was another important factor. His French diplomatic contacts, as well as officers, believed that in a revolutionized Russia only a socialist venture could attract popular support and thus have some chance for success.54 Already by May 1918 Savinkov had assembled a force of approximately 5000 men who were located in Moscow and many provincial towns in North-East Russia.55 Miakotin alleges that Savinkov’s ambitions was to make the Union a political organization that would rival the other Moscow centers. Savinkov himself explains that from its inception the Union accepted Kornilov’s program which, as he characterized it, emphasized four simple slogans: fatherland, loyalty to the Allies, the Constituent Assembly, and land for the peasants.56 However, he does not mention that Kornilov’s program was anathema to the Volunteer Army. In the summer of 1918, when his group became a sizable force, Savinkov began to seek political patronage. In spite of his socialist background, he did not join the Union for the Regeneration of Russia, but preferred affiliation with the National Center which, as he even claimed, had emerged owing to his initiative.57 Still, Savinkov remained very much his own man and his bonds with the Center seem to have been quite loose. At any rate, most of his energy was devoted to military affairs. The principle aim of the Savinkov Union was preparation for an armed insurrection against the Bolsheviks. After rumors about the Eastern Front began to circulate, Savinkov planned, allegedly with French knowledge, to incite several revolts north-east of Moscow, namely in Yaroslavl, Rybinsk, Murom and Kostroma. As he claimed he had also intended to assassinate Lenin and Trotsky at that time, although this plan was never carried out.58 The timing of the insurrection was to be synchronized with a supposed Allied landing in Archangel, and Savinkov stressed in his accounts that he coordinated with the French and the National Center his decision to start it. However, it appears that the sole responsibility for it rested only with him.59 On July 5 a small force led by Savinkov himself tried without success to capture Rybinsk. In Kostroma the insurrection never got underway. On July 6, Colonel A. P. Perkhurov, the chief of staff of the Union, seized Yaroslavl and held it for seventeen days. Another Union leader, Grigor’ev, held Murom for two days. The Allied landing, however, failed to materialize and the uprising was drowned in blood. Those insurgents who survived had to flee.60 Savinkov himself resurfaced in Ufa. Soon afterwards he was sent by the Ufa Directory to Paris as a member of its military mission.

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THE MOSCOW EPILOGUE The exodus of major public figures from Moscow in the summer of 1918 moved the focus of the anti-Bolshevik political opposition from the capital to the South (Kiev and Ekaterinodar), and to the East (Cheliabinsk and Omsk). Political motives, coupled with the growing danger to the personal safety of Bolshevik adversaries, dictated these departures.61 Yet, in spite of the introduction of martial law by the Soviet regime at the end of May, and the Red Terror, which followed Fanya Kaplan’s attempt on Lenin’s life (August 30), some members of the Union for Regeneration, the National Center and the Union of Public Figures carried on their organizational work in Moscow well into 1919. This work was conducted in almost complete isolation from the outside world. Sporadic news from Ukraine reached them after a three or four-week delay. Contacts with the Whites in the Kuban and especially in the East were even rarer.62 This isolation, along with the constant threat posed by the Cheka, limited the activity of the Moscow multiparty groups to periodic meetings during which the participants exchanged news, often completely fantastic, and discussed a perennial topic: “the current political situation.” The Union for Regeneration and the National Center sometimes held such meetings together. Both refused to cooperate with the Union of Public Figures, which after the disappearance of the Right Center served as a common forum for the right wing of Moscow civil society.63 The National Center, taking advantage of the large number of scholars within its ranks, drafted various legislative proposals in the fall of 1918 for a future all-Russian government which, as the Center expected, would soon arise in the South. The proposals dealt with problems of local selfgovernment, the labor question, the legal status of the Church, foreign policy and economic issues. The problem of land reform was almost entirely neglected because, in line with the Kadet usual stance, it was deemed too divisive and detrimental to state interests.64 The final spurt of energy among Moscow multiparty groups occurred in the spring and summer of 1919. Sometime in March or April, they received delayed news of an Allied call for an immediate armistice among all belligerent forces in Russia and for peace negotiations. As the Allies proposed, this peace conference would take place on Prinkipo Island near Constantinople.65 The Moscow organizations then formed the Tactical Center (Takticheskii tsentr) to develop a common response to this initiative and to present their position to the Western Powers. In its declaration the newest Center rejected—as did the White governments in the South and East—any suggestion of agreement with the Soviet regime. Instead, it appealed to the Allies for military and financial

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assistance for the White forces in the borderlands.66 Its subsequent activity as well as the nature of the Center were somewhat controversial. The Tactical Center functioned as a council of six members, composed of two representatives from each participating organization. At its was N. N. Shchepkin, who at that time also led the National Center.67 S. N. Mel’gunov, a representative from the Union for Regeneration, asserts that the Tactical Center was only a conduit for communication among fully autonomous groups. Specifically, he denied that the Center had its own political program, that it carried out independent activity, and that it constituted a clandestine leadership of the member organizations. According to him, such statements surfaced in the summer of 1920 during the investigation after the mass arrests of Moscow activists, and at their trial. As he says, they were instigated by Bolshevik authorities who claimed that the Tactical Center was “the head of all-Russian counter-Revolution.”68 Some evidence, however, suggests that these charges were not a complete fabrication. The Center continued to function even after issuing its declaration on the Prinkipo Conference, and thus assumed the form of a more permanent institution. It also exercised at least some executive power over the three organizations which composed it.69 Around June 1919, the Tactical Center approved yet another document to be sent abroad. It was a comprehensive memorandum drafted by specialists from the Union of Public Figures which touched upon constitutional, political, social, educational, financial, industrial and agricultural aspects of life in Soviet Russia. The Center also negotiated among its three constituent groups a declaration on the principles of the future all-Russian Government of Admiral Kolchak. It was expected that such a government would appear after Kolchak reached Central Russia. In harmony with other White announcements, the declaration advocated a provisional military dictatorship and the convocation of a National Assembly (Natsional’noe sobranie) which would determine the future state order. It was purposely vague on the questions of land reform and election law because the Right and Left disagreed on whether peasant land seizures should be considered legitimate and whether suffrage should be universal.70 The final question tackled by the Center was a plan for an armed insurrection in Moscow, still advocated by some anti-Bolsheviks. The Center deemed an uprising to be futile because Denikin and Kolchak’s armies were too distant from the capital to deliver the necessary assistance.71 The arrest of N. N. Shchepkin and some other anti-Bolshevik figures in June 1919 led to the suspension of all activities by Moscow underground organizations. Their work was never resumed. Some of their members left Soviet Russia; others were able to remain free in the capital because the Bolshevik authorities executed Shchepkin in September 1919, without knowing the

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extent of the underground activities carried out by Moscow oppositionists in late 1918 and in the first half of 1919.72 While the South became after the October Revolution the most important military center in the growing resistance to the Soviet regime, Moscow, until the middle of 1918, remained the heart of the anti-Bolshevik political opposition. In conspiracy and at considerable risk that opposition attempted to create a unified front of all anti-Bolshevik political forces and to organize its own military units. With the aid of the White armies in the South and East, as well as the assistance of the Western Allies it ultimately aimed at the forcible overthrow of the Bolshevik regime and the reestablishment of an all-Russian Government. In pursuing these goals, the political elites displayed high spirit, admirable courage and endurance. In spite of the growing threat from the nascent Cheka, they developed an underground network in Moscow and maintained clandestine contacts with Western diplomats and White centers in the South and East. They continued that activity much beyond the summer of 1918, long after they could count on a quick overthrow of the Bolsheviks and when even their presence in Moscow (not to mention underground work), posed an imminent danger to their lives. Admirable qualities notwithstanding, the elites’ conduct in Moscow also revealed their two fundamental weaknesses, one entirely of their own making and another, largely remaining beyond their control. The first was their inability to work together toward common goals and the second was their dependence on the military. While in theory the Bolsheviks were supposed to be the utmost disaster for Russia and to make any differences among the political elites secondary or even unimportant, in reality, the elites remained deeply divided, and the Bolshevik threat did not change this. Pre-revolutionary biases as well as new conflicts among the elites proved far stronger than their hatred for the common enemy. The Right, which was the first to come up with the idea of a common front, was also the first to give it up and to abandon Moscow altogether. The two remaining centers, representing the liberals and the nationalists, on the one hand, and the moderate leftists, on the other, fared not much better. Each wanted to unite civil society, but at the cost of eliminating the other centers rather than through cooperation. Ultimately, to change their attitude, they needed the intervention of foreigners, the French, who pressured them to work together. The June 1918 compromise which the two multiparty groups reached was the crowning achievement of the elites in the entire Moscow period. It carefully stipulated the form and personal composition of the new allRussian authority, and the conditions for its creation. Yet, that compromise was broken at the Ufa State Conference as soon as the French no longer had

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the opportunity to exert pressure on the Russian politicians and when one side, the Left, gained preponderance. This outcome certainly brings into question the elites’ determination to cooperate for common goals and raises doubts about their political maturity. The political elites’ activity during the Moscow period also showed that they were unable to create a military force on their own and that they had to rely on the military (Savinkov’s success in this respect does not change this overall assessment, as he was a character, one of a kind, rather than a typical representative of the Russian political elites). This severely limited their room for maneuver and made them completely dependent on the military’s willingness to give them a role in the anti-Bolshevik struggle. Early experiences with the Volunteer Army showed that the White generals had assigned inferior status to politicians and politics, and nothing indicated that they were likely to change this attitude in the future.

NOTES 1. Very little evidence has been published on the origin of the anti-Bolshevik multiparty opposition in Moscow. See: A. Argunov, Mezhdu dvumia bol’shevizmami (Paris: Union, 1919), 3–7; V. I. Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” ARR, XV (1924): 5–18; “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve v 1918 g. Iz pokazanii S. A. Kotliarevskago po delu ‘Takticheskago Tsentra,’“ Na chuzhoi storone, 8 (1924): 123–42 (abbreviated as NChS); “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei v Moskve 1917–1919 g. (Pokazaniia N. N. Vinogradskago v dele ‘Takticheskago tsentra’),” NChS 9 (1925): 91–103; V. A. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 2 (1923): 178–99; Vera Vladimirova, God sluzhby “Sotsialistov” kapitalistam. Ocherki po istorii kontr-revoliutsii v 1918 gode (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel’stvo, 1927), 199–212, 233–41, and V. A. Klimenko, Bor’ba s kontrrevoliutsiei v Moskve: 1917–1920 (Moscow: Izdatel’stvo “Nauka,” 1978), 65–98. For English-language historiography on that subject, see Kenez, Civil War in South Russia, 1918, 135–38, 159, Pipes, Struve, 255–57; Rosenberg, Liberals, 210–18, 289–300, 328–29, 346–47; Pereira, White Siberia, 64–67; Smele, Civil War in Siberia, 35–36, 57–58. 2. Sometimes Soiuz was also called Sovet. 3. “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 126; “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 92–93. 4. “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 126–27; “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 92–93. See also Rosenberg, Liberals, 210–18. Generals A. A. Brusilov and N. V. Ruzskii delivered the harshest speeches at the Congress attacking the Provisional Government. Among other members of the Union, there were P. P. Riabushinskii, P. B. Struve, N. A. Berdiaev, Prince E. N. Trubetskoi and General N. N. Iudenich. 5. Cf. Argunov, Mezhdu dvumia bol’shevizmami, 3–7; “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” NChS 9, 92; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 2, 179.

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6. “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 127; “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 94; Klimenko, Bor’ba s kontrrevoliutsiei, 66. At that time other members of the Executive Committee of the Union included inter alia Tret’iakov, Kadet politicians Professor P. I. Novgorodtsev and A. A. Cherven-Vodali; V. I. Gurko a leader of the League of Landowners (Soiuz zemel’nykh sobstvennikov); A. S. Belorussov, from the Popular Socialists (Narodnye sotsialisty) but with close Kadet ties, and several intellectuals (P. B. Struve, N. A. Berdiaev and others). 7. “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve” 127–32; “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” passim. 8. According to Gurko, a former non-party member of the State Council, who participated in those events (“Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 8). See also A. I. Denikin, Ocherki, III, 71. On the other hand, another Moscow activist Professor S. A. Kotliarevskii, asserts in his account that it was the Union of Public Figures which until the emergence of the Right Center in February-March 1918 was the common forum of opposition circles in Moscow (“Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 127–32). Since he does not mention the Nine, he might not even have known of its existence. After all, the Nine was a clandestine organization. 9. Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 8; Vladimirova, God sluzhby, 234. Gurko (ibidem) relates that the Right Center entered into contacts with officers already in February 1918; therefore, the organization had to be formed before that time. Kotliarevskii indicates March-April as the date of its origin (“Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 132); Vladimirova, in turn, mentions March (God Sluzhby, 234). The thirteen day difference between the Julian and Gregorian calendars can partly explain these inconsistencies. On the other hand, some reports of the White intelligence service Azbuka trace the Right Center as far back as November 1917: “Pravyi i Natsional’nyi tsentry,” Azbuka report, (n. d.), p. 1, and Kako, “Natsional’nyi Tsentr,” Azbuka report, Sept. 1918, p. 1, both in WMA, file 129. Rosenberg mentions January-February as the founding date of the Center (Liberals, 289). Krivoshein replaced Novgorodtsev as the leader when the Nine developed into the Right Center (“Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 96, and Denikin, Ocherki, III, 71). 10. Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 9–11. Denikin, mentions 700–800 officers (Ocherki, III, 71). However, Gurko’s figures of spending 800,000 rubles to support officers and 250 ruble allowance per officer would indicate that the Center supported 3200 officers rather than 800, unless some money was allocated for other military purposes. A similar figure—3000, is supported by an Azbuka report written in Summer 1918: Izhe, (n. d.), WMA, file 136, pp. 2–3. After the National Center was formed, Astrov, and later Shipov, N. N. Shchepkin and N. Ogorodnikov, were in touch with Moscow officers (“Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 134, 142) 11. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 192. He mentions enlistment of officers and sending them to the East by the Military Section of the Socialist Revolutionaries. See also the second part of this chapter for a more detailed description of the Savinkov organization. 12. Denikin, Ocherki, III, 80. The National Centers, angered by this appeal, protested in a letters sent to Alekseev on July 22.

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13. As Miakotin put it (“Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 179). The non-Soviet press unequivocally condemned the Treaty (“Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 128). See also “Pravyi i Natsional’nyi Tsentry,” Azbuka report, (n. d.), WMA, file 129, p. 1. 14. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 187–89. 15. “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 129–30; Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 12. 16. Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 12; Denikin, Ocherki, III, 76. A prominent Kadet politician and Russia’s representative in Paris V. A. Maklakov telegraphed this project to the French Embassy in Moscow. 17. An example of such enunciations, often quoted in White sources, is the socalled “verbal note” given in June, 1918 to various political parties by the French Ambassador Joseph Noulens. He pledged rapid deployment of Allied troops to Archangel and Vladivostok with the purpose of establishing the second (eastern) front, and promised military aid to Russian anti-Bolshevik forces. See N. I. Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” Golos minuvshago na chuzhoi storone, 3 (1926), 39–40; Argunov, Mezhdu dvumia bol’shevizmami, 7. 18. As Gurko put it (“Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 12). 19. Ibid., 12, 16–17. 20. Ibid., 15; “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 132–33; B. Kazanovich, “Poezdka iz Dobrovol’cheskoi armii v ‘Krasnuiu Moskvu,’” ARR, VII (1922): 193–94. According to Denikin a definitive split occurred between June 2 and June 8, 1918, when a group of mostly Kadet politicians—Astrov, Belorussov, Fedorov, Stepanov, Struve—left the Right Center: (Ocherki, III, 75–76). 21. “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 130–33; Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 14–15, and “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 97. Negotiations undertaken in Kiev also proved to be futile: “Soobshchenie Az,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Aug. 10, 1918, WMA, file 141, pp. 2–3; Stepanov—Natsional’nyi Tsentr, correspondence, Sept. 10, 1918, WMA, file 167, p. 4; Denikin, Ocherki, III, 77, 81–86. See also the next chapter on the Kievan period of political opposition. 22. For a detailed analysis of Miliukov’s pro-German position, see Rosenberg, Liberals, 313–20. 23. Denikin, Ocherki, III, 75n, 77, 81–87, 253. Cf. Kievskaia Azbuka, intelligence report, Kiev, Sept. 7, 19[18], WMA, file 141, p. 2. 24. Krivoshein left Moscow sometime in July-August followed, a month later, by two other important figures—Gurko and Baron V. V. Meller-Zakomel’skii (“Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 97–99). Subsequently, the Right Center ceased to exist (“Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 135). 25. Azbuka report in WMA, file 129: “Pravyi i Natsional’nyi Tsentry,” (n. d.), pp. 1–2; Fedorov, untitled report on the National Center, p. 1; Kako, “Natsional’nyi Tsentr,” Sept. 1918, p. 1; and file 143: “Iasskoe Soveshchanie,” intelligence report, Jassy. The Union of Public Figures and the Commercial and Industrial Union were divided in their attitude toward the National Center. A majority supported the Right Center (“Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 96–97). 26. Natsional’nyi Tsentr—Alekseev, correspondence, Azbuka, intelligence report, June 19 (6), 1918 in WMA, file 167, p. 4. The dating of the letter is uncertain. A

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barely legible, handwritten addition to the document gives the date June 19 (6), 1918. However, the letter cites a Bolshevik report dated July 16 (3), 1918; therefore, it could not have been written in June, unless the July date was a typing mistake (iiul’ instead of iiun’), which seems quite possible. General Lukomskii quotes a fragment of the same letter and also dates it June (Vospominaniia, II, 116n). See also Azbuka report in WMA, file 129: “Pravyi i Natsional’nyi Tsentry,” (n. d.), p. 2 and Kako, “Natsional’nyi Tsentr,” p. 2–3; Denikin, Ocherki, III, 77. 27. “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 133; “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 98. 28. Cf. Pereira, White Siberia, p 38–39. Gosudarstvennost’, in terminology used by the Kadets, also signified Rechtsstaat, but in the course of the Civil War it simply meant that preservation of the all-Russian State was the highest good and that any particular, especially, class and “regional” interests should come after it. Cf. Rosenberg, Liberals, 134. 29. Azbuka reports in WMA, file 129: Fedorov, untitled report on the National Center, pp. 1–2; Kako, “Natsional’nyi Tsentr,” pp. 1–3, and “Pravyi i Natsional’nyi Tsentry,” pp. 1–2. Azbuka reports in WMA, file 167: Natsional’nyi Tsentr—Alekseev, correspondence, June 19 (6), 1918, pp. 1–4; Stepanov—Natsional’nyi Tsentr, correspondence, Sept. 10, 1918, p. 5. And WMA, file 143: “Iasskoe Soveshchanie,” intelligence report, Jassy, pp. 1–2; Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 9 (Nov. 20/7, 1918), p. 6. 30. See note no. 26. 31. Argunov, Mezhdu dvumia bol’shevizmami, 3–4; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 180; Vladimirova, God sluzhby, 202; Fedorov, untitled Azbuka report on the National Center, WMA, file 129, p. 1. General Boldyrev, the future military commander in the Ufa Directory, contends that “to some degree” he was the Union’s founder: V. G. Boldyrev, Direktoriia. Kolchak. Interventy. Vospominaniia (Novonikolaevsk: Sibkraiizdat, 1925), 25. Some sources imply that the Left Center preceded the Union for Regeneration. Yet, the founders of the Union say nothing about it. At the same time its political rivals continued to use the name Left Center even in late 1918. Hence, it seems, that it was a somewhat derisive term which existed simultaneously with the Union for Regeneration. Cf. Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: Oko, Sept. 4, 1918, p. 2, and “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Oct. 18, 1918, p. 5. Procyk seems to be mistaken when she implies that the Left Center was an organization formed in early 1918 next to the Nine of Krivoshein, and that it was that organization which split over orientation controversy into the Right Center and the National Center (Russian Nationalism, 52). 32. Argunov, Mezhdu dvumia bol’shevizmami, 3–4; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 180–81; Vladimirova, God sluzhby, 202–03, and “Iasskoe Soveshchanie,” intelligence report, Jassy, WMA, file 143, p. 1. Miakotin mentions initial members of the Union. The Menshevik fractions Edinstvo and Oborontsy joined the Union somewhat later (ibid., 184). Similarities in political programs, and perhaps the fact that some Kadets participated in the foundation of the Union for Regeneration, led Gurko to believe that it was the Union, not the National Center, that

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appeared as a result of the orientation controversy within the Right Center (“Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 12). 33. Argunov, Mezhdu dvumia bol’shevizmami, 4–5; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 181–82; Boldyrev, Direktoriia, 23–25; “Iasskoe Soveshchanie,” intelligence report, Jassy, p. 1, and Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 1, Nov. 16 (3), 1918, pp. 2–3. On the Union’s preference for the federal Russian state, see “Soobshchenie Vserossiiskago Natsional’nogo Tsentra,” Kiev, Dec. 17 (4), 1918, WMA, file 141, p. 1, and “Ob”dinennoe Torzhestvennoe Sobranie Ruskikh politicheskikh organizatsii,” Ekaterinodar, June 4, 1919, WMA, file 129, p. 3. 34. Argunov, Mezhdu dvumia bol’shevizmami, pp. 5–6; 8–9; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 191–92. Miakotin denies that the Union organized its military detachments, yet it admits that many officers belonged to the Union, 192. 35. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 187–89; Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 9: 5–6. 36. ”Pravyi i Natsional’nyi Tsentry,” p. 2, and Fedorov, untitled Azbuka report on the National Center, pp. 1–2; Argunov, Mezhdu dvumia bol’shevizmami, 7; Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 9: 5. 37. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 189–90. They were particularly worried about Savinkov’s access to Western diplomats. Since only the Kadets—who participated in the Union and the Center—were appointed to represent both organizations before the Allies, the National Center later claimed that, in fact, it solely controlled foreign relations, see “Pravyi i Natsional’nyi Tsentry,” p. 2. 38. “Pravyi i Natsional’nyi Tsentry,” pp. 2–3; Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 9: 2–4, 6–7; Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 56–57; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 183. 39. Natsional’nyi Tsentr—Alekseev, correspondence, pp. 3–4. Cf. Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 9: 6–7. 40. “Peregovory o soglashenii mezhdu partiiami,” Nash Vek [Petrograd], 70/94 (April 11, 1918): 3; Argunov, Mezhdu dvumia bol’shevizmami, 4–5; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 181–83. Cf. Pereira White Siberia, 64–66; Smele, Civil War in Siberia, 35–36. 41. Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 9: 2–3; “Pravyi i Natsional’nyi Tsentry,” p. 3; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 194. See also Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 8: 6; “Pismo moskovskikh politicheskikh deiatelei ot 24 iiulia 1918 goda,” Zaria [Omsk], 79 (Sept. 18, 1918); Vladimirova, God sluzhby, 239. Their pro-German attitude discredited the candidacies of Miliukov and V. D. Nabokov for the non-socialist category. 42. Natsional’nyi Tsentr—Alekseev, correspondence; Stepanov—Natsional’nyi Tsentr, correspondence, Azbuka report, Sept. 10, 1918, WMA, file 167, pp. 5–9; “Pravyi i Natsional’nyi Tsentry,” pp. 2–3; Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 9: 6; Denikin, Ocherki, III, 78. 43. Argunov, Mezhdu dvumia bol’shevizmami, 8–9; Izhe, Kievskaia Azbuka, intelligence report, (n. d.), WMA, file 141. The trip from Moscow to the East was extremely difficult; therefore, some leaders of the Union, for example Miakotin and Titov, chose an alternate route through the South. They were then stuck there because

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travel from the South was not easier, see Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 2 (1923): 198 and 5 (1924): 253–54. 44. For general information on the Ufa Conference and Directory, see Pereira White Siberia, 96–103; Smele, Civil War in Siberia, 44–50. 45. Of the original members chosen to the Directory, i.e., Avksent’ev, Astrov, General Boldyrev, Chaikovskii, and P. V. Vologodskii, only the latter, the prime minister of the Siberian Government, was not among the candidates discussed in Moscow. The remaining four could be classified as leftist because Astrov was considered a left Kadet, while Boldyrev, though listed with no formal party affiliation, was an activist of the Union for the Regeneration of Russia. After Astrov refused to join, the Directory’s non-socialist category had no member who had been approved in Moscow. The Directory underwent a further transformation, when it exchanged Chaikovskii, who was not present in Ufa, for an SR activist (V. M. Zenzinov). Thus the final composition of the Directory included three SRs, one KD (Vinogradov who replaced Astrov) and one allegedly “non-party member” (Boldyrev). See “Akt ob obrazovanii Vserossiiskoi verkhovnoi vlastii,” Russkii istoricheskii arkhiv (Prague: Izdanie Russkogo zagranichnogo istoricheskogo arkhiva, 1929), 247, 250; “Beseda s Astrovym,” Azbuka report, WMA, file 129—Bunyan dates this document on Nov. 26, 1918: J. Bunyan (ed.), Intervention, Civil War, and Communism in Russia, AprilDecember, 1918: Documents and Papers (New York, Harcourt: Brace and Hove, 1936), 366–68. 46. “Akt ob obrazovanii Vserossiiskoi verkhovnoi vlastii,” and “Zhurnal no. 7 Zasedaniia Komissii gosudarstvennago soveshchaniia po organizatsii Vserossiiskoi Vlastii v gor. Ufe,” Sept. 16, 1918, in Russkii istoricheskii arkhiv, 147–51 and 188–90. 47. Stepanov—Natsional’nyi Tsentr, correspondence, Azbuka report, Sept. 10, 1918, WMA, file 167; Denikin, Ocherki, III, 88–89; Lukomskii, Vospominaniia, II, 116–17 48. Ibid. 49. Zhurnal osobago Soveshchaniia, no. 5 (Oct. 25/12, 1918), in Wrangel Private Archive, file 1, pp. 10–11, Hoover Institution, Stanford University. See also Denikin, Ocherki, III, 258–59. Denikin received letters from the Directory and General Boldyrev only after Alekseev’s death (ibid.). 50. “Nakaz predstaviteliam N. Ts. komandirovannym v Iassy na soveshchanie s predstaviteliami Soiuznykh derzhav,” Ekaterinodar, Nov. 4, 1918, WMA, file 129, p. 4; “Beseda s Astrovym”; Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 9: 6. 51. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 5 (1924): 261; Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 9: 3–5; Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 55–59. 52. Generals Alekseev and Kornilov, anxious to get rid of Savinkov, sent him to Petrograd and Moscow on a mission to persuade Plekhanov and Chaikovskii to join the Special Council created on the Don: see Delo Borisa Savinkova, 32–33; see also the previous chapter. Alekseev was outraged by the persistent legend of his association with Savinkov: Denikin, Ocherki, III, 80.

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53. For a general description of that episode in Savinkov’s life, see Richard Pipes, The Russian Revolution (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1990), 646–53. 54. Denikin, Ocherki, III, 79; B. V. Savinkov, Bor’ba s bol’shevikami (Warsaw, Izdanie Russkago politicheskago komiteta, 1920), 26; Delo Borisa Savinkova, 38, 41; Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 10–11. Savinkov obtained the first financial aid from the Czech-Slovaks in April 1918. They contributed 200,000 Kerensky rubles. Then the French began to support him with subsidies paid in installments of 40,000–100,000 Kerensky rubles. When he began to prepare an armed insurrection, he received a lump sum of two million rubles. Altogether the French Embassy provided him with 2.5 million. 55. Savinkov, Bor’ba s bol’shevikami, 26. He mentions 5500 officers at his disposal located in Moscow and thirty-four provincial towns. In Delo Borisa Savinkova, 36, he testifies that roughly 5000 men enlisted to the Union. The General Staff of the Volunteer Army estimated its strength at 2000–3000 men (Denikin, Ocherki, III, 79). 56. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 2 (1923): 190; Savinkov, Bor’ba s bol’shevikami, 24. On Kornilov’s program see chapter II, note no. 56. 57. Delo Borisa Savinkova, 43–44. See also Savinkov, Bor’ba s bol’shevikami, 28–29. 58. Savinkov boasted of the involvement of his organization in Fanya Kaplan’s attempt on Lenin’s life (Bor’ba s bol’shevikami, 32). Later, however, he explicitly denied this (Delo Borisa Savinkova, 36). 59. For Savinkov’s view, see his Bor’ba s bol’shevikami, 28, 32 and Delo Borisa Savinkova, 37–39, 44. The French Consul Grenard denied any instigation of the uprising: Fernand Grenard, La Revolution russe; avec trois cartes (Paris: A. Collin, 1933), 322. The National Center did not comment on Savinkov’s action, but Denikin said that Savinkov had deceived the Center (Ocherki, III, 80). 60. Savinkov, Bor’ba s bol’shevikami, 32; Delo Borisa Savinkova, 42–44. The Allied landing, on a much smaller scale than expected by the Moscow elite, took place in Archangel almost a month later, on August 1, 1918. 61. A distinguished Kadet leader Prince P. D. Dolgorukov informs us that in May 1918 the Cheka arrested nearly sixty members of the National Center. Although they were released a few weeks later, the danger remained, and soon opposition politicians began to leave the capital: Pavel D. Dolgorukov, Velikaia razrukha (Madrid, 1964), 98. 62. For example, information about the results of the Ufa Conference came to the Center in Moscow only at the beginning of 1919 (“Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” p. 140). “None of our four couriers dispatched to Moscow has returned,” complains a member of the National Center in Kiev, see Azbuka report, Kiev, Dec. 17 (4), 1918, WMA, file 129. WMA, file 136 contains a few documents from mid-1919 titled “Raznyia pisma N.Ts v Moskvu,” which shows that more frequent contacts between Moscow and Ekaterinodar was maintained at least at that time. To be regular, these contacts required twelve couriers. 63. “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 98–99; “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 136.

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64. “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 136–40. Fedorov, before he left Moscow in October of 1918, requested this work from the National Center. 65. The invitation to the conference was issued on January 22, 1919 and a day later was broadcast on the radio. It set February 15 as the date opening the conference. By the end of February it was obvious that the idea had been abandoned. Thus the Moscow groups began to act when the Prinkipo Conference had been already dead. For further information about this obscure Allied initiative, see chapter VI. 66. “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 100–01. A prominent member of the National Center Professor S. A. Kotliarevskii came from the South to promote the idea of establishing a common forum for Moscow political organizations. 67. “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 100; “Natsional’nyi Tsentr v Moskve,” 142; “Delo ‘takticheskogo tsentra,’“ Izvestiia, 183/1030 (19 Aug. 1920): 2. N. N. Shchepkin replaced Shipov as the leader of the National Center in January 1919 (he also was a member of the Center Committee of the Kadet party). The Tactical Center had the following composition: N. N. Shchepkin, P. V. Gerasimov (and his substitute, Prince S. E. Trubetskoi) from the National Center; S. N. Mel’gunov from the Union for Regeneration (sources do not mention the second representative); and D. M. Shchepkin and S. M. Leont’ev from the Union of Public Figures. 68. S. Mel’gunov, “Sud istorii nad intelligentsiei,” NChS 3 (1923): 139, 156–57. Mel’gunov accused prof. S. A. Kotliarevskii from the National Center and N. N. Vinogradskii from the Union of Public Figures of collaboration with the Soviet investigators. See also “Delo ‘takticheskogo tsentra,’“ Izvestiia, 183/1030. Cf. Rosenberg, Liberals, 347n. 69. Some issues were discussed directly in the Tactical Center without previous authorization in the founding organizations, cf. “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 103. 70. “Sovet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 101–02. According to N. N. Vinogradskii, the declaration was issued in April, 1919. 71. Ibid., 103. Izvestiia says that the Moscow organizations had some military force at their disposal (“Delo ‘takticheskogo tsentra’“). Mel’gunov’s account, on the other hand, views such allegations as a Soviet provocation (cf. “Sud istorii nad intelligentsiei,” p. 156). But if Vinogradskii’s report is credible, this decision by the Tactical Center indicates that Moscow organizations still maintained contacts with some military groups. 72. Mel’gunov, “Sud istorii nad intelligentsiei,” 139–53; “Soviet obshchestvennykh deiatelei,” 103. The final blow at already inactive organizations came in February 1920 when the Cheka arrested twenty-eight former opposition figures.

Chapter IV

Kiev: The Tilt to the Right

In late summer and fall of 1918, Ukraine in general and Kiev in particular were full of refugees from Central Russia. The conservative nature of Skoropadskyi’s regime attracted especially the privileged layers of Russian civil society. But in addition to aristocrats, tsarist bureaucrats, landowners, industrialists and merchants, Kiev also drew the flower of the Russian intelligentsia—among them many distinguished political figures—and thousands of officers. Many of the refugees had worked together in the pre-revolutionary legislative and executive branches of the government or had known each other from Petrograd and Moscow salons. Now they frequented Kievan salons and restaurants and passionately discussed Russia’s future. Kiev thus became a place of numerous political initiatives and intrigues, and replaced Moscow as the focal point of the anti-Bolshevik political opposition. As it had in the Moscow period, Russian political elites formed in Kiev several multiparty coalitions, aspired to recreate an all-Russian government and sought foreign aid in the struggle against the Bolsheviks. Yet, there also appeared important differences. Unlike in Moscow, the presence of strong pro-German and monarchist groups, from the extreme and moderate Right, and the urgent question of separatism in the South, in particular in Ukraine, forced political elites to take a stand on issues that proved very difficult and divisive. Furthermore, after their experience in Moscow, some multiparty groups were less inclined to pursue full unification of their organizations. Instead they seemed satisfied with cooperation; some even preferred that political authority be placed in the hands of the military. Finally, the entire Kiev period lasted approximately four months (August-November 1918), with a phase between October and November that had a decisive influence on the shape of the political opposition. Time was a luxury that the Kievan groups 59

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did not have, especially given the volatile political conditions in the South; therefore, their actions were not always deliberate or measured up to the challenges which they were facing.

POLITICAL CONDITIONS IN UKRAINE AND THEIR IMPACT ON RUSSIAN ANTI-BOLSHEVIKS At the time under investigation, Ukraine was a formally sovereign state ruled by General Pavlo Skoropadskyi, who after taking power in a coup d’état (April 29, 1918), assumed the antiquated Polish-Ukrainian title of Hetman. With the aid of the German Army, which de facto occupied the whole country, he was able to restore a certain degree of order and a relative normalcy to life in Ukraine.i The Hetmanate’s basic feature was an almost total rejection of the legal changes that followed the February Revolution and the return of Ukraine to the pre-revolutionary status quo. These principles and policies were much appreciated by the mass of escapees from Soviet Russia who were looking for a place of refuge from revolutionary chaos. For Russian political elites in Ukraine, it additionally offered new opportunities for organizing themselves and for working out various strategies of fighting for Russia. Yet, this period also renewed some old conflicts and brought to the fore many new ones. The German presence in Ukraine awakened the orientation controversy with new force. Since the Germans were not only the true masters in Ukraine but, in the summer and early fall of 1918, also appeared in the South to be winning the Great War, pro-German politicians gained new impetus for seeking their aid and much better conditions for their work than the advocates of the Entente. As the pro-German camp was also more willing to reach compromise with the Hetmanate, the orientation controversy overlapped with the nationality question which together became very touchy issues for Russian political elites and created a profound division among them. That division remained even after the defeat of the Central Powers and continued to be a major source of conflict. The dictatorship of the Hetman was Ukrainian by name. The Ukrainian tongue was theoretically the official language of the State, and Ukrainian education made genuine progress in that period. Yet Skoropadskyi was not a Ukrainian nationalist and vacillated, depending on political circumstances, between rapprochement with the Ukrainian National Union of VynnychenkoPetliura, which strove for Ukraine’s independence, and federation with Russia, once it was liberated from the Bolsheviks. His administration, both central and local, was composed predominantly of Russian bureaucrats who

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regarded the Ukrainian State as a provisional solution. Moreover, the Hetman left considerable freedom of action for various Russian political organizations, including groups hostile to his regime and to his overlords, the Germans. Thus, many Russians—particularly the more rightist segments of civil society, including even some groups of nationalists, and the escapees from Soviet territory in general—were eager to reach a compromise with the Hetman and Ukrainian national aspirations. In exchange for help in the struggle against the Bolsheviks, they were willing to accept a federation between Russia and Ukraine. Others however, especially the Great Russians who resided in Ukraine permanently, as well as the Kadets active in the National Center, perceived Ukrainian separatism as an Austrian and German subversion, viewed Skoropadskyi as a national traitor, and abhorred the idea of a federal state order in a future Russia. Needless to say, the commanders of the Volunteer Army held exactly the same views. Thus, the conflicting attitudes toward Ukrainian national aspirations in general and Skoropadskyi’s regime in particular created a deep split among the Russians. What was worse, they contributed to the confusion of priorities as to who was the principal enemy of the White movement, the Bolsheviks or the Ukrainian nationalists. The Hetman was primarily dependent on German military help, but his regime could also count on significant domestic support, coming mostly from the Ukrainian Democratic-Agrarian Party (Ukrainska Demokratichno-Khliborobska partiia), the League of Landowners (Soiuz zemel’nykh sobstvennikov), and the Union of Industry, Commerce, Finance and Agriculture (Soiuz promyshlennosti, torgovli, finansov i sel’skogo khoziaistva), better known under its abbreviated name Protofis. The Ukrainian Democratic-Agrarian Party, in Russian sources usually referred to as the Union of Agrarians (Soiuz khleborobov), was a peasant party which included various elements ranging from quite poor, landowning peasants to large aristocratic landowners.2 Together with the League of Landowners it represented the interest of the propertied class in the countryside. Protofis was its equivalent among businessmen. All of these groups were extremely fearful of social anarchy, either Bolshevik or Ukrainian. For that reason, they were hostile toward the socially radical leadership of the Ukrainian separatists, and welcomed the German occupation of Ukraine and later the Hetman’s regime. In fact, the strongest of these groups, the Union of Agrarians, played an active role in bringing Skoropadskyi to power.3 In spite of the allegations to the contrary made by Russian nationalists, the support of these groups for Ukrainian independence was qualified and depended on Ukraine’s ability to maintain order. Ukraine’s federation with Russia seemed to be their main option. Furthermore, dominant figures in these organizations were local Russians—Count D. F. Geiden and Prince A. D. Golitsyn led the Union of Agrarians and Protofis, respectively.iv Although

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their political ambitions focused mostly on maintaining order in Ukraine, they were also involved in various conservative initiatives which aimed at the restoration of the Russian monarchy and the creation of an all-Russian authority. Some politicians, especially from the Union of Agrarians, sympathized with the Monarchist Bloc, an organization of ardent royalists.5 Others, mostly from the League of Landowners and Protofis, joined a more moderate Russian organization, the State Unity Council of Russia.vi After Germany asked for an armistice in October 1918, the commitment of these organizations to the all-Russian cause increased dramatically. Yet, instead of taking advantage of this opportunity for winning these groups over to their side, the Whites renewed attacks on them, thereby deepening mutual hostility. Skoropadskyi’s Ukraine became the focal point of a strong monarchist movement. Its moderate wing was active in the State Unity Council and eventually found a place within the White movement. Other, more radical factions found themselves definitely outside of the White movement because of their call for an immediate restoration of the monarchy, their rejection of the order that followed Nicholas II’s abdication, their arrangements with German authorities and the Hetmanate, and their hostility to the Volunteer Army of General Denikin. These groups, sarcastically called “right Bolsheviks” by their adversaries, were not willing to depart from the Kievan political arena, when in October–November pro-Allied politicians became more active. Any compromise between the monarchist, extreme Right, and liberals and leftists was out of the question, while mutual recriminations created much bad blood among these groups. The Hetmanate and the Germans attempted to form several voluntary armies, recruited from among the Russian officers who lived in Ukraine. For various reasons, thousands of officers chose to serve in these regiments. Although their sponsors and the “right Bolsheviks” conceived them as a rival force to the Volunteer Army of General Denikin, many moderate conservatives and even some liberals viewed them as additional Russian military units which could be useful in the struggle against the Bolsheviks. This provoked an angry reaction on the part of Denikin who did not like any Russian military force in the South outside of his control. Thus, attitudes towards these armies became one more source of conflict among political elites in Kiev. The White Army itself was the subject of intense disputes in the antiBolshevik camp in Ukraine. The political strategy of its leaders had many antagonists on the Right and Left. Pro-German, rightist politicians tended to view the White officers as irresponsible romantics, who, by rejecting a priori any compromise with Germany, sacrificed Russia’s true interests. They also condemned Alekseev and Denikin’s refusal to accept the restoration of the monarchy. In turn, the Left feared the military dictatorship urged by the White

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leaders and, in general, did not trust their commitment to democracy and freedom. Yet, even rightist and leftist critics of the politics pursued by the White commanders respected the Volunteer Army’s devotion to the national cause and its courage. For their part, Alekseev and especially Denikin, aided by their political proponents from the Kadet party, attempted to blur this difference, and treated attacks on White policy as attacks on the Army itself. Moreover, by using the military and moral prestige which the Army had gained in the initial period of the Civil War, they tried to persuade public opinion that only the Army and political groups which supported it were truly Russian, and that all others were unpatriotic and served either “particular” or foreign interests. In the second half of 1918 this image of the Volunteer Army was still far from being accepted by its rivals. In spite of what Denikin might have wished, his army was at that time known as the Volunteer Army on the Kuban and was seen as just one of many southern centers of resistance against the Bolsheviks. Politicians in Kiev did not think in terms of being included or not in the White movement, even if they did some soul searching because of their dealing with Germany. Naturally, they strongly resented any questioning of their patriotism and they themselves raised doubts about the political maturity of the White Army’s leadership. In the end, the conflicts and challenges which Russian politicians faced in Kiev were to be resolved with White Army’s ideology in the background and General Denikin’s intransigence—which the elites were only gradually becoming aware of—in the foreground. Both White ideology and Denikin’s policies significantly reduced their freedom of action and the room for compromise.

THE EXTREME RIGHT In the summer of 1918 the Russian rightist elements in Kiev were disorganized and lacked political cohesion. They all shared a fierce hatred of Bolshevism, the desire to restore the monarchy, hopes for German aid and rather friendly relations with the Hetmanate. But they differed on important matters. Some called for the restoration of autocracy, while others preferred constitutional monarchy; some became German tools, while others only expected German help against the Bolsheviks; some rejected post February Revolution changes en bloc and hated the Liberals and the Left almost as much as the Bolsheviks, while others were ready to accept post revolutionary changes and sought allies to their left, including socialists; and finally, some denounced General Alekseev for his role in Nicholas II’s abdication, and the White Army for not restoring the monarchy, while others were critical of Denikin’s policy

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but supportive of the Army. Furthermore, as the refugees tried to adjust to the new conditions in Ukraine and mingled with each other in Kiev, previous divisions among them seem to have lost much of their power, so that former “progressive nationalists,” i.e., Russian chauvinists, cooperated with the Hetman’s regime, while former extreme rightists became moderate and worried about the stupidity of their erstwhile friends. Finally, throughout much of the Kiev period the Right was in the process of organizing itself, working out its political program and unifying or differentiating itself around certain initiatives undertaken by the Germans, the Hetman and Don Ataman P. N. Krasnov, and by individual politicians or their small groups. Many politicians participated in several organizations, some extreme, some moderate. Thus the division between the extreme and moderate Right was obscure throughout much of the Kiev period and became clear only in the fall. The most important organization of the Russian extreme Right in Ukraine was the Monarchist Bloc (Monarkhicheskii blok).7 It emerged only after intensive feuds and maneuvering among various factions. In the first half of the summer, a group of monarchists led by F. N. Bezak (a former member of the “regular” nationalists of P. N. Balashev in the Third and Fourth State Dumas), tried to approach a group of nationalists close to V. V. Shulgin, known for its monarchist sympathies. These overtures were scorned as the Shulgin group which, being one of the staunchest supporters of the Volunteer Army of General Denikin, was intransigent in its anti-German and anti-Ukrainian stance. Shortly afterwards, a clandestine monarchist congress failed to bring about unification. On the contrary, the Bezak group was accused of being “Kadet”—probably on account of its attempts to approach Shulgin who, although a Russian chauvinist, had been one of the leaders of the Progressive Bloc in the last State Duma and thus was considered by some to be Kadet— and an even more rightist faction led by B. A. Pelikan and A. S. Gizhitskii surfaced. Sometime in late August or early September the monarchists gathered at another congress and this time succeeded in uniting in the Monarchist Bloc. It included the Bezak and Pelikan groups, as well as other nationalists and monarchists who followed Balashev, and Count V. A. Bobrinskii, the former leader of the Progressive Nationalists in the Fourth Duma. They were joined by a circle of military monarchists, including General Prince A. N. Dolgorukov and General Count Fedor Keller, and by some former members of the extreme Right in the Third and Fourth Duma, for example G. G. Zamyslovskii.8 The new organization chose as its nominal head an obscure figure by the name of Sokolov.9 The Monarchist Bloc pretended to express the opinion of all “true” monarchists, especially officers. Although its more reasonable wing was willing to cooperate with moderate forces to its left—including the Kadets—the Bloc

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blamed Russian civil society in general for the tragedy of the Civil War. By supporting the February Revolution, the liberal and socialist intelligentsia had introduced anarchy which permitted the Bolsheviks to seize power. The Bloc was also ambivalent toward the Volunteer Army. On one hand, it wanted to use that Army in the struggle against the Soviet regime and attempted to maintain contacts with its leaders. On the other, it uncompromisingly criticized the Army’s program and personally attacked its commanders. They maintained that by refusing to raise the monarchist flag for the Army and supporting the slogan of the Constituent Assembly convoked after the Civil War, Generals Alekseev and Denikin antagonized the majority of officers who, the Bloc claimed, were monarchist. Furthermore, the “right Bolsheviks” contended that the White Generals pursued an irrational pro-Allied policy. By depriving themselves of German help and refusing to collaborate with antiBolsheviks who received such assistance, the General worked to the detriment of Russia’s raison d’état.10 For example, General Keller warned General Alekseev in a letter written on Aug. 2 (July 30) that the lack of a clear monarchist program for the Volunteer Army discouraged officers from joining it and instead attracted them to monarchist detachments sponsored by the Germans.11 For their part, the extreme monarchists insisted that they themselves represented not a German but a Russian orientation, because gaining support of the former enemy served the best interest of the country. From this perspective, they justified their solicitation of German funds, needed to organize Russian voluntary regiments, even though some had warned Alekseev and Denikin against such a German intrigue.12 The Monarchist Bloc attracted some “true” royalists from among the Ukrainian parties which supported the Hetmanate, such as the Union of Agrarians and to a lesser degree Protofis and the League of Landowners. However, it was not able to unite all extreme forces. Specifically, it failed to subordinate the Union of Our Fatherland (Soiuz Nasha Rodina). This organization emerged sometime in August or early September, i.e., about the same time as the Monarchist Bloc, and had only nine members whose identities were confidential. Formally led by a little-known figure M. E. Akatsatov, the Union had much more important patrons, among them Prince G. N. Leuchtenberg (Leikhtenbergskii), a member of the House of Romanov, Count V. A. Bobrinskii, and Zamyslovskii who was probably one of its nine confidential members. Although small, the Union played a very important role in Kievan politics because of its close connections with the Germans and the Hetmanate, and its participation in the formation of the so-called Southern Army (Iuzhnaia armiia) of which the Union was an official sponsor.13 Ukraine had became a place of refuge for tens of thousands of officers of the former Russian Imperial Army. Those trained officers were looked at

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covetously by both Krasnov and Denikin, who had problems with their mainly Cossack armies which were unwilling to fight outside of their territories, and by Skoropadskyi who had almost no military force of his own. Since the Brest-Litovsk Peace Treaty stipulated that neither Germany nor Ukraine could allow anti-Bolshevik military forces on their lands, the extreme Right found out an ingenious solution: volunteers enlisted in Ukraine were sent to Russian military units located on the Don which was in a state of war with Soviet Russia. It might be added that the Denikin’s White Army also resorted to a similar stratagem and sent officers enlisted in Ukraine to the Kuban by way of the Don. The situation of the Southern Army was not different: its official headquarters was on the Don. It seems that the Union of Our Fatherland was established as a front organization and that those who truly provided the necessary funds were Germany and Ukraine. At least, it is alleged that Prince Leuchtenberg passed millions of rubles from the Germans to Akatsatov. For this money, the Union began the enlistment of officer-volunteers to the Southern Army—Count Bobrinskii appears to have been in charge of this process. This Army was meant to defend the South from internal enemies, liberate Russia from the Bolsheviks and establish a constitutional monarchy. The struggle against internal enemies meant that the Army would not fight against the Germans, while constitutional monarchy, however paradoxical that principle might sound for extreme monarchists, was inserted to prevent protests by socialist deputies in the German Reichstag who could have objected to the formation of a reactionary army on German controlled territory.14 Energetic efforts to organize the Southern Army must have disturbed Denikin’s protagonists who feared that it might grow into a genuine rival of the White Army. For, although the Whites ordinarily considered cooperation with Germany and Ukraine to be an unforgivable sin, at this time Shulgin wrote to Count Bobrinskii, his former leader in the faction of the Progressive Nationalists in the Duma, pleading with him to switch sides and together with his entire army to join the White Army. He argued that such a switch could tip the balance for the monarchists and thus push the White commanders into their arms.15 The answer of Bobrinskii to Shulgin’s letter is unknown, but subsequent events show that he did not take advantage of his former friend’s proposition. The Union of Our Fatherland’s opting for a constitutional monarchy offended all “true” royalists, while Akatsatov’s refusal to share control over the army, especially over German money, was a bone of contention between the Union and the Monarchist Bloc. Yet their relations were not entirely unfriendly. Prince Leuchtenberg sympathized with the Bloc, while two other rightist politicians, Bobrinskii and Zamyslovskii, belonged to both organizations.16

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Being temporarily unable to realize its plan toward the Southern Army, the Monarchist Bloc succeeded in creating its own military force. In early September, it gained political supervision over the so-called Astrakhan Army which had been established in July on the Don territory by Colonel Prince Tundutov, and which was meant, at least formally, to enlist the Astrakhan Cossacks and the Kalmyks for the purpose of liberating those provinces from the Bolsheviks.17 Moreover, the Bloc procured separate funds from the Germans to organize yet another Russian voluntary unit commanded by General Count Keller. Because its headquarters were located in Pskov in the north, the unit was named the Northern Army.18 With this force at its disposal, the Bloc intended to unify all three Russian armies and to place them under the command of Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich who resided in the Crimea.19 The Bloc believed that the leaders of the Southern Army could not reject this plan and would agree to include their troops in the united monarchist army. This army was to be the first step leading towards the consolidation of all antiBolsheviks in the South. The unified forces of the monarchists, of the Don, Ukraine and the Volunteer Army on the Kuban, aided by the Germans, would then be able to overthrow the Bolshevik regime, and establish Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich on the throne.20 The extreme monarchists, however, took such wishful thinking for reality. They grossly overestimated their own strength while underestimating the intransigence of General Denikin. Their new volunteer armies had too little fighting capability to become a focus for all other anti-Bolshevik forces. The Hetman’s Ukraine did not have its own army and was thus of limited value as an ally in a military campaign against the Bolsheviks. White Generals claimed for themselves the leadership position in the struggle for Russia’s restoration; therefore, the prospect of the Volunteer Army joining such a venture was highly implausible. The Ataman of the Don Cossacks, General Krasnov welcomed the idea of a common action against the Bolsheviks but was unlikely to accept the extreme monarchists as its leaders. The Germans never actually committed themselves to overthrowing the Soviet regime. Finally, and most importantly, Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, influenced by General Alekseev and by other White leaders, refused flatly to get involved in this affair.21 The plan thus fell to pieces like a house of cards. The extreme monarchists’ subsequent activities took place in the final period of the Hetmanate, when German defeat in the Great War became apparent. The news of the note sent on October 4, 1918 by the Germans to the Allies, in which they asked for an armistice, made a great impression in Kiev. The initial joy of victory in the pro-Allied camp and dismay in its pro-German counterpart was soon replaced by anxiety, shared by all, about the future. The most urgent question was how to defend Ukraine against the Bolsheviks in

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the event of the German Army’s withdrawal. For the Hetmanate this was also a question of survival. To understand the role played by the extreme Right— as well as by other Russian forces—in the last period of Skoropadsky’s rule, some of his political maneuvers must be presented. The Hetman had to break out of his political isolation and build up his own military force because German protection was no longer reliable. To deal with the first objective he met on November 2 with General Krasnov who was also in search of allies. During this meeting, they put forward the idea for a general anti-Bolshevik alliance in the South which would consist of Ukraine, the Don, the Kuban, the Volunteer Army of General Denikin and, if possible, Georgia, the Crimea and the Terek region in the Caucasus. It seems that they also thought about Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich as the leader of this national alliance.22 In this way, Krasnov and Skoropadskyi conceived their own grand plan for restoring the Russian State. However, on November 11 the leadership of the White Army bluntly rejected this proposal, which would have reduced their army to the position of one of many equal elements in a broad anti-Bolshevik coalition. Instead, they proposed a solution which amounted to a disguised attempt to impose their own military rule on the southern provinces. They replied that they were interested only in the creation of a single military command in the South under General Denikin, and could negotiate merely about its conditions.23 Since this was unacceptable to both Krasnov and Skoropadskyi, the whole initiative proved to be futile. But the rigid attitude of the White leaders soon had its repercussions when the Hetman, searching for support among Russians, turned to the extreme Right rather than to more moderate politicians. The Hetman also failed in attaining his second objective, the creation of a military force able to defend Ukraine. He did not resort to a draft because he feared that it would render the army susceptible to Bolshevization. Attempts to organize voluntary troops among rich peasants did not accomplish much. The only available sources of recruitment were again Russian officers. For their services, however, Skoropadskyi had to compete with the Kievan City Duma and party organizations—which recruited officers to establish a police force—and with the Enlistment Bureau of the Volunteer Army. Thus, from among several military detachments which emerged in Kiev at that time, the Hetman controlled only the Special Corps (Osobyi korpus).24 Outside of Ukraine, Skoropadskyi retained some influence over the new Southern Army formed on the Don under the command of General N. I. Ivanov. This unit comprised the Saratov Corps of Colonel Manakin, the reorganized Astrakhan Army of Tundutov and the former Southern Army of Akatsatov which needed new sponsors after the Germans had ceased to give them subsidies. Ukraine was to provide the funds necessary for this unit’s maintenance.25 Yet, the mil-

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itary value of all these voluntary troops was questionable, while the Hetman became more and more dependent on reactionary officers who treated the Ukrainian State with contempt. Skoropadskyi also felt increasing pressure from those who had been his most faithful followers, i.e., from the Union of Agrarians, League of Landowners and Protofis. Frightened by the possibility of the German Army’s withdrawal from Ukraine and by Skoropadskyi’s negotiations with separatists from the Ukrainian National Union,26 they openly sided in early October with the supporters of a “great, one and indivisible Russia,” despite their continued support for Ukraine’s autonomy or federation with Russia. They also began to seek contacts with the Allies.27 Growing pro-Russian sympathies were so evident among these groups that the Hetmanate authorities were reluctant to allow the Union of Agrarians to hold its congress, and issued a permit only under the condition that the congress would not address the question of Russia’s restoration. Yet, during the Congress (November 4–7) Skoropadskyi himself spoke to the delegates about Russia, restored by Ukraine and the Don, and about Russian-Ukrainian federation. This speech and a passionate call for Russia’s rebirth delivered by a former State Duma member and ardent monarchist, V. M. Purishkevich, received a standing ovation from the audience.28 The domestic weakness of the Hetmanate and changes in the international situation—the victorious Entente was thought to strongly favor a united Russia—finally compelled Skoropadskyi to abandon his official policy which had stressed Ukrainian independence. On November 14, 1918, the Hetman issued an edict in which he proclaimed Ukraine’s leading role in the restoration of an all-Russian state built on the principle of federation.29 This radical step brought dubious gains on the international arena. Internally, it did not reconcile the Hetman with the Volunteer Army of General Denikin or with moderate Russian politicians in Ukraine, while it completely antagonized Ukrainian patriots who desired independence for Ukraine. The day before Skoropadskyi issued the edict on federation, the Kievan press published Denikin’s order claiming his exclusive command over all Russian armed forces in the South. Denikin later asserted that he had been misunderstood, and denied that he had tried to extend his military authority to Ukraine. Although the Ukrainian censorship erased the words “Ukraine and Crimea” from the published text of the order, its sense was understood well and made a great impression in Kiev.30 It strengthened the prestige of the White leaders and their army, but it also produced confusion and disorder, and further exacerbated the difficult relations between Denikin and Skoropadskyi.31 For, after the order’s publication, the commanders of the various voluntary corps in Kiev immediately submitted their troops to Denikin and then

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attempted to arrest Skoropadskyi. The Hetman was able to dissuade them from executing this plan only by arguing that his arrest would bring more disorder, and so make it easier for the Bolsheviks to overrun Ukraine.32 Badly shaken by the betrayal of the Russian volunteers, Skoropadskyi was also under attack by Ukrainian separatists. On the night of November 14/15, the Ukrainian Directory—which had been clandestinely established on November 13—proclaimed Skoropadskyi an outlaw, abolished the Hetmanate, and raised a popular uprising against the regime. Soon the countryside was in complete revolt, and the Hetman’s rule was reduced mainly to Kiev, which still was protected by the German Army. Thus, beset by enemies from all sides, Skoropadskyi finally decided to bring to power the only force which he thought he could trust—the extreme monarchists.33 The failure of earlier plans to create a monarchist crusade against the Bolsheviks, had compelled the Monarchist Bloc to revise its program and reduce its ambitions. These policy changes coincided with the growing awareness in Kiev that the Western Allies were winning the Great War. Like many politicians in the former pro-German camp, the extreme monarchists became quite Germanophobic, although they did not forsake the political option which from the perspective of White leaders was still pro-German. The Bloc attempted to continue to organize monarchist armies, and maintained good relations with Ukraine and the Don.34 In late October, it placed its hopes for the restoration of the Russian monarchy in the struggle that would be led under the Don-Ukraine leadership. The Bloc planned to convene in mid-November a monarchist congress in Rostov-on-the Don under the slogan: “Great, one, and indivisible Russia built on the foundation of the legitimate hereditary monarchy” (Velikaia, edinaia, i nedelimaia Rossiia na osnove zakonopreemstvennoi monarkhii). Its purpose was to organize one front for all Russian patriots in the South including the White Army and the Kuban.35 Preparations for the congress coincided with the aforementioned initiative undertaken by Krasnov and Skoropadskyi during their meeting on November 2. Therefore, it seems safe to assume that both ventures were, in fact, a part of the same scheme. There is no evidence as to whether the congress ever took place. It appears that the idea for it was abandoned after Denikin rejected the KrasnovSkoropadskyi plan. In spite of these new setbacks, the extreme monarchists did not remain idle. Some evidence suggests that in mid-November, they conspired to overthrow the Hetman and introduce in Ukraine a dictatorship of General Count Fedor Keller. They might have succeeded, given the extreme weakness of the Hetmanate and the respect and authority the monarchists enjoyed among the Russian officers in Kiev and in Pskov, where the Northern Army was stationed. But this plan became superfluous, when on November 18 (5), 1918, Sko-

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ropadskyi appointed Keller—who was just about to leave Kiev for Pskov to take up the command of the Northern Army—to the position of commanderin-chief, and endowed him with full power in civil affairs.36 While Skoropadskyi needed the extreme monarchists to legitimize his rule among the Russians, and thus secure the loyalty of the Russian troops in struggle against the Ukrainian insurgents, the Monarchist Bloc, and particularly Keller, understood his nomination virtually as an unofficial termination of the Hetman’s authority and as the beginning of his own dictatorship. The new commander instituted a five-member Council of the State Defense (Sovet Gosudarstvennoi Oborony), composed entirely of the Monarchist Bloc’s politicians. The Council, led by Bezak (chairman) and Dolgorukov (vicechairman), seemed to act as the highest executive body, even though Ukraine still had the legal government appointed by Skoropadskyi.37 In official and private pronouncements, Keller stressed that he served one Russian state, and that he intended to abolish Ukrainian military uniforms and drill, and to replace them with Russian. Keller also prepared an order promulgating the restoration of the monarchy in all-Russia which he wanted to issue just three days after his nomination. The Council was barely able to prevent its publication by persuading him, that before the monarchy was to be restored, the country would have to pass through a period of dictatorship which would reimpose order and regenerate Russia.38 In general, the Council seemed to be more realistic than its founder Keller. To win support for the new regime, the Council was willing to compromise on matters of principle and policy. On November 23, it initiated negotiations with the Kievan section of the National Center, i.e., the group whose political stance was almost identical with that of Denikin’s Volunteer Army. These “right Bolsheviks” were now ready to accept constitutional monarchy in a future Russia, recognize the “unity of Russian people,” and oppose a federal state structure by accepting only autonomy for the southern provinces. Furthermore, they renounced their pro-German past, and expressed hostility toward the Hetmanate and its support for the convocation of the Ukrainian Parliament (Seim).39 But the Kievan National Center was no more elastic than Denikin, and still regarded the Council’s members as renegades of the national cause. Hence, their offers for cooperation were unequivocally rejected. Keller’s policy finally led to a conflict with the Ukrainian Council of Ministers. The Government did not protest against the infringement on its executive prerogatives but complained that Keller, by stressing the integrity of Russia, ignored the official Ukrainian position on federation with Russia, thereby arrogating to himself legislative power. This authority, the Council maintained, belonged to it until the convocation of the Seim. Keller, a military man, for whom constitutional questions over the division of powers were too

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subtle, responded with indignation: Skoropadskyi had pledged his support for one Russian state before Keller accepted his nomination, hence either he would receive full power, or resign. The same day, on November 27 (14), the Hetman dismissed the ambitious general and appointed Dolgorukov as the new Commander-in-chief.40 Upon learning of Keller’s removal, infuriated Russian officers wanted either to overthrow Skoropadskyi, or depart to the Northern Army. However in his last order, Keller conceded his power. He stated that he would have sacrificed himself for “Great, indivisible, one Russia, but not for the separation from it of a federal state [Ukraine].” He also stressed that order in Russia could not be reintroduced without a single authority.41 General Prince A. N. Dolgorukov represented the same monarchist ideology as Keller and therefore was able to calm the officers. However, his authority was challenged by Denikin’s agents and followers in Kiev. They demanded that the command of all voluntary units be united and placed under General Lomnovskii, the representative of the White Army in Ukraine. To that end they carried out effective agitation among the officers. Dolgorukov, angered by this challenge, arrested Lomnovskii on December 6 (November 23) and released him only after a series of interventions on his behalf. Subsequently, Lomnovskii decided to submit his troops to Dolgorukov.42 Although Dolgorukov was able to assert his leadership, he was, in some sense, a commander without an army. Most patriotic officers who really wanted to fight for Russia had left long ago for the Don or for the White Army on the Kuban. The volunteers who had missed even the monarchist armies and still remained in Kiev were the least willing and able for combat. Hence, their objection against defending “the Ukrainian State” of Skoropadskyi can only be partly taken at face value, especially given that all political organizations to the right of the Union for the Regeneration of Russia appealed to the Russians to fight against the Ukrainian insurgents led by Ataman Symon Petliura.43 Thus, it became obvious that with this force at his disposal Dolgorukov alone could not defend Kiev. The outcome of the struggle was decided by an agreement between the Germans and Petliura. In exchange for help in the evacuation of its army, the German Command agreed on December 13 (November 30), 1918 to surrender Kiev. On the following day, the Petliura’s Ukrainian insurgents crushed the sporadic resistance of Russian troops and entered Kiev. Dolgorukov capitulated and fled to Odessa. Skoropadskyi abdicated and, in disguise, left Kiev with the Germans. Keller was killed by the Ukrainians. Some officers took refuge in the German Army’s barracks and in this way saved their lives.44 The demise of the Hetmanate and with it the extreme Right was thus complete.

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FROM THE MODERATE RIGHT TO THE MODERATE LEFT As mentioned before, the division between the extreme Right on the one side, and the moderate forces from the Right to the Left on the other—as applied in this chapter—is quite arbitrary in the Kiev period of anti-Bolshevik political opposition. Throughout most of this time the moderate Right seemed closer to the extreme Right than to the center or left wing of Russian politics. Their attitudes toward Germany during orientation controversy, toward the monarchy, toward Ukrainian separatism and toward Krasnov’s regime well illustrate this point. Yet, this division of political forces in Kiev seems unavoidable when Kievan political groups are observed in a wider perspective. Unlike the National Center and the Union for Regeneration, which had passed through their formative stages earlier in Moscow, the Kievan rightist groups only began regrouping and crystallizing their programs in the late summer and fall of 1918. As a result of this process, the extreme Right ended up as the last de facto defender of Skoropadskyi’s regime and, subsequently, when that regime collapsed, it disappeared as an organized force. On the other hand, as of late fall of 1918, the emerging State Unity Council started to work closely with the National Center and the Union for Regeneration and continued this collaboration throughout 1919. Together, the three organizations constituted the core of the White political opposition in the Odessa period and later became the principal source of political support for the White Army of General Denikin. The State Unity Council of Russia The State Unity Council of Russia appeared formally in early November 1918. Yet its origins can be traced back to the summer of 1918, which was, in general, a time of intensified activity by various rightist organizations. The events of that summer led, on the one hand, to the emergence of the Monarchist Bloc and, on the other hand, to a series of initiatives undertaken by conservative circles composed of former members of both legislative bodies— the State Duma and Council. Previous failures, especially Miliukov’s, did not discourage these groups from seeking once again German aid in the struggle against the Bolshevik regime.45 These efforts gained a new impetus under the influence of those who had earlier participated in the activities of the Moscow’s Right Center, and who had recently arrived in Kiev. The most prominent figure in this group was a reform-minded, pre-revolutionary Minister of Agriculture Aleksandr Krivoshein, who in August entered into contacts with German authorities in Ukraine.46

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Krivoshein like other Russian politicians of the German orientation, he did not believe that the Western Powers would send a sufficient military force behind the Urals to pose a real threat to either the Bolsheviks or the Germans. The idea of the Eastern front, which had so excited pro-Allied politicians in Moscow, was to Krivoshein simply unrealistic. Hence, he believed that perpetual loyalty to the Entente was not in Russia’s best interest. Moreover, Krivoshein was afraid of Western influences in Russia fearing that they would benefit the socialists and harm the monarchists. Therefore, he saw no other alternative but a compromise with the Germans which, as he admitted, was possible only if they suffered heavy losses on the Western front. From this perspective, Krivoshein demanded of Germany that it annul the Brest-Litovsk Treaty and agree to the restoration of one Russian state led by a free, national government. In exchange, he offered Russia’s neutrality in the World War. Rejection of his plan, he warned, could strengthen pro-Allied forces in Russia and threaten Germany from the East if military difficulties arose in the West.47 Krivoshein’s proposition contained the basic principles which Miliukov had presented earlier to the German authorities in his personal negotiations (Miliukov participated in these talks too). The outcome of these contacts proved no more fruitful. Germany did not intend to change its policy toward the Soviet regime and maintained relations with anti-Bolsheviks in order to find puppets rather than partners. Thus having to choose between the extreme monarchists and the more moderate conservatives, the Germans preferred the extremists who raised no preconditions, demanded no guarantees, and were anxious to get aid at any cost.48 Krivoshein lost interest in negotiations with the Germans when he realized in mid-September that they did not treat his group as a serious partner. Furthermore, vague news about the tragic fate of Nicolas II and his family prejudiced him against Germany.49 Like many on the Right, he believed that the tsarist family could have been saved had German authorities pressured the Bolsheviks strongly enough. But the plan for Russia’s liberation from the Bolsheviks, as conceived by Krivoshein and his colleagues from the legislative chambers did not limit itself only to soliciting German help. That plan also endorsed a compromise with Ukrainian separatism, envisioned the restoration of the monarchy in a liberated Russia and aspired to the unification of all Russian patriots. Judging the Bolshevik regime to be a total disaster, Krivoshein and his political friends sought Ukraine’s cooperation. In this respect, these conservative Russian circles displayed a flexibility entirely absent from the liberals and nationalists, and, for that matter, from the leftists as well. A good example of their flexibility and practical approach to politics, worthy of Burke, is the following statement which Krivoshein made on October 17, 1918:

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The Ukrainian fight for independence (samostiinichestvo) threatens Russia with a temporary division, while the Bolsheviks with its full destruction. Therefore, one has to forget about separatism, or enter with it into provisional alliance for the sake of struggle with Bolshevism at full strength. . . . If the Ukrainian Government really succeeds in creating an army and will fight against Bolshevism, then I and my two sons will become Ukrainian national insurgents (samostiiniki).50

With that attitude Krivoshein and his circle had no difficulty in approaching the Hetman and his Government, and promising them broad autonomy for Ukraine within a federal Russian state, and for Skoropadskyi himself, the title of Hetman for life. Although the latter did not commit himself firmly, his ministers were obviously sympathetic to this proposition, and friendly relations between both sides continued until the end of the Hetmanate.51 The former Duma and Council members favored a monarchy for Russia. They suggested Grand Duke Aleksandr Mikhailovich as the future monarch. It appears, he would have been chosen by the Zemskii Sobor convoked by personal invitations and would have received the title of Ruler of Russia (Pravitel’ Rossii).52 This scheme was similar to the previous plan conceived in Moscow by the Right Center. Krivoshein assumed responsibility for obtaining Aleksandr’s approval and, in the middle of September, he went to the Crimea, where the Grand Duke resided. He did not accomplish his goal, however, for Aleksandr, like Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, the favorite of the Monarchist Bloc, refused to partake in any action which involved German participation.53 Although important, restoration of the monarchy was not the absolute end for these moderate rightist circles. Unlike the Monarchist Bloc, they strove first of all for the restoration of the Russian state, and only then of the monarchy. Moreover, to achieve their immediate objective of establishing a broad political coalition in Russian civil society, they treated the principle of monarchy as negotiable. Thus, even before the negative response of the Grand Duke became known, they admitted that a direct leap from anarchy to monarchy was doubtful and that a socialist government during a transitional period was possible.54 Originally, Krivoshein and two other leaders of this group, S. E. Kryzhanovskii and Count Aleksei Bobrinskii (the brother of Vladimir Bobrinskii, one of the leaders of the Monarchist Bloc) assumed in late August that their planned coalition, named the all-Russian Bloc (vserossiiskii blok), would include parties and groups from the extreme Right to the right Socialist Revolutionaries. Because of opposition from the extreme Right, which subsequently established the Monarchist Bloc, this idea was dropped almost as soon as it was formulated.55 The chances for its approval by proAllied forces—the Kievan section of the National Center and the Union for

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Regeneration—seemed even less probable, although the plan was never seriously discussed with those organizations. Consequently, Kryzhanovskii and Aleksei Bobrinskii focused on organizing the members of four prerevolutionary State Dumas and Councils (1906–17) who had taken refuge in Kiev. They initiated a series of informal meetings which soon led to the emergence of the Council of Members of Legislative Chambers (Soveshchanie chlenov zakonodatel’nykh palat). Already at its first meeting on September 28 (15), this parliamentary group chose a five-member Bureau that included Count Aleksei Bobrinskii (chairman), Baron V. V. MellerZakomel’skii, and a lone liberal among them, Miliukov.56 A few days after the parliamentary group had met for the first time, Kiev was shaken by news of the German note asking the Allies for an armistice. As the old enemy was about to lose the war, Russia had to face grave dangers: firstly, of the spreading of Bolshevism to territories hitherto occupied by the Central Powers; secondly, of recognition by the Allies of separatist states created within its former borders, and thirdly, of being excluded from the peace conference after the War. To prevent these threats, Russia urgently needed military aid and diplomatic support from the victorious Allies. And this, in turn, meant that it had to have a government or, at least, foreign representation recognized by the West and able to defend its interests. These formidable challenges energized the new organization. On the one hand, the Council of Members of Legislative Chambers aspired to be the focus for all parties and groups that put the good of the Russian State above class interest (gosudarstvennost’).57 On the other, it aimed at the formation of a political body that would represent Russia at home and abroad. Already on October 16 (3) the Bureau of the parliamentary group issued an appeal to Russian society, written by Miliukov, that called for the creation of the all-Russian Representation (obshcherossiiskoe predstavitel’stvo). This appeal, and other documents issued in October and November, showed that this institution—sometimes also termed the State Unity (gosudarstvennoe ob”edinenie) or Preliminary Parliament (predparlament)—was to be the nation’s highest spiritual and moral authority and to exercise real state authority. As a body selected by a broad coalition, it would enjoy the trust of civil society and could therefore effectively shape public opinion and use its moral authority on behalf of Russia’s regeneration. With the participation of Denikin’s White Army on the Kuban, it would form an all-Russian Government and would send a diplomatic mission to represent Russia abroad. The parliamentary group also expected that: the remnants of Russian statehood in the South, in particular, the Volunteer Army on the Kuban, the Don and Ukraine would cooperate in the struggle for Russia’s restoration; the Western Allies, through the delivery of weapons to Denikin’s Volunteer Army and di-

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rect military intervention, would help to recapture both Russian capitals; the German Army would stay in the South until Western troops arrived; the Russian State would regain its former borders and international position; and finally, after liberation Russia would be ruled by a constitutional monarch.58 Attempts undertaken by the Council of Members of Legislative Chambers to extend its political basis brought about limited results. The Council argued that the Entente’s approaching victory rendered the division between the proGerman and pro-Allied orientation superfluous. Therefore, it invited the proAllied groups to join the Council. However, hostility between the camps was still real, and too great to overcome, even after it had lost its political sense.59 The predominantly nationalistic Kievan National Center and the socialist Union for Regeneration remained deeply suspicious toward rightist politicians and continued to cast anti-German slogans against them. Thus, only the rightist groupings, which emerged in Kiev in September and early October, were willing to cooperate with the parliamentary group. Their composition was similar to that of the Right Center in Moscow and included former deputies in pre-revolutionary regional and urban self-governments (zemstvo; duma), and representatives of the Orthodox Church, of commerce, industry and finance, of landowners, and of a group of academics. Most of them were tainted by a pro-German past.60 M. S. Margulies, a leading member of a city self-government group and of commercial, industrial and financial organizations from Moscow and St. Petersburg, had his own ideas about how to consolidate Russian society and create its representation. Namely, he called for the unification of all elements of the bourgeoisie (panburzhuaznoe ob”edinenie), including its leftist segments. He imagined that this unification could become a focus not only for the Right but also for the Left, and would demonstrate to Europe that Russian political elites were united in one anti-Bolshevik bloc. However, Margules’ proposal did not find adherents and ultimately, he entered the organization initiated by the Council of Members of Legislative Chambers.61 The final structure of the coalition that emerged in early November of 1918 included nine member groups (legislative chambers—the State Duma and Council—counted separately) which sent five delegates each to the State Unity Council of Russia (Sovet Gosudarstvennogo Ob”edineniia Rossii). The forty-five member Council, in turn, elected a nine member Bureau with Baron Meller-Zakomel’skii as the chairman, and Krivoshein (League of Landowners), Miliukov (State Duma), S. N. Maslov (local Zemstvo) and S. N. Tret’iakov (Commerce and Industry) as vice-chairmen. The Bureau’s membership included Prince Professor E. N. Trubetskoi (academic group); I. G. Koran (financial group); Prince A. D. Golitsyn (Protofis), and Margulies (city self-government). Krivoshein had lost the competition for the

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chairmanship because his candidacy was considered unacceptable for socialists whom the Council still hoped to attract.62 In late October, the State Unity Council of Russia, or more properly, still the Bureau of the parliamentary group, decided to dispatch a delegation to Western Europe headed by the former Russian ambassador to Vienna N. N. Shebeko. The delegation’s aim was to clarify Allied attitudes toward Russia and the separatist states that had emerged on the territory of the former Russian Empire, and to raise the question of Western aid for the White movement. Shebeko and V. I. Gurko, who accompanied him in this mission, had an important added assignment. On their way to the West, they were to stop in Ekaterinodar for talks with Denikin and the Kadet politicians in his administration. The principle objective of this visit was to win over Denikin and his liberal associates to the idea of a united action by the entire South against the Bolsheviks with the State Unity or pre-Parliament playing an important role, if not leading such a coalition. Additionally, the envoys were to discuss the details of their foreign mission hoping for an agreement in this area as well.63 Thus being unable to attract liberals and leftists in Kiev, the parliamentary group tried to find endorsement for its program at the core of the White movement. Reactions in Ekaterinodar were twofold. Denikin, in spite of the opinions of his closest military advisors, refused flatly to accept the offer. He justified this decision by stressing that the White Army was above party politics and could not associate itself with any group, especially not one with such a dubious past. Yet, it seems, he evoked this basic tenet of the Volunteer Army’s ideology only to cover his resentment toward an initiative which could have led to political control over the military. Furthermore, the plan of the Kiev Right called for cooperation with the Don and Ukraine as well as other states in the South and so entailed a federal rather than a centralized state. It also foresaw a monarchy for the future order in Russia. Both perspectives were unacceptable to the General.64 The Kadet politicians, to whom the proposition was also addressed, did not like it either and ruled out any possibility for cooperation with the Don and Ukraine. But perhaps being less inclined to take the blame for the failure of the idea of the State Unity Council, they unwillingly agreed to participate in it under certain conditions. They demanded that the Council: have its seat outside of German occupation; recognize the White Army as the center of all-Russian authority (Vserossiiskii gosudarstvennyi tsentr); combat Ukrainian separatism; get rid of its right wing groups; and accept the membership of center and left wing organizations. The last requirement further specified that the State Unity Council include only the parliamentary group and representatives of the Orthodox Church from among the Right and admit to it delegates from the National Center, the Union for the

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Regeneration of Russia and, the Zemstvo-City Union (Zemskoe i gorodskoe ob”ediienie), a left-wing organization of local self-government.65 Shebeko and Gurko agreed to move the headquarters of the State Unity Council from Kiev and to send a new delegation to Ekaterinodar for further negotiations, but were very disappointed with the results of their visit. For, even if the parliamentary group had accepted all the stipulations on which the Kadets insisted—and it appeared ready to approve at least some of them—its plan to establish political authority in Russia and to create a united front against the Bolsheviks would not have succeeded. The Kadets seemed to conceive the State Unity Council only as an advisory body attached to the military leadership (the second stipulation) rather than a parliament-like institution, a source of any other authority in Russia. Furthermore, coalition of military forces in the South was anathema to the liberals, while other important questions, such as foreign representation for anti-Bolshevik Russia were not even seriously discussed. As Gurko concluded, the Kadets cherished too much the monopoly of political power, which they allegedly enjoyed in Ekaterinodar, to share it with others. In view of Allied victories, the Kadets also perceived that collaboration with the Right to be redundant.66 Postponing temporarily their foreign mission, the two envoys traveled back to Kiev via Novocherkassk. In the Don capital they met with General Krasnov who, naturally, applauded the original concept of the State Unity Council and of a common anti-Bolshevik coalition. When they reached Kiev, they were greeted with the news of the Hetman’s proclamation of the RussianUkrainian federation, as well as Denikin’s order subordinating all Russian military units to himself.67 Subsequently, the seat of the State Unity Council was moved to Odessa. By early December, most rightist politicians had already left for Odessa due to the ominous military situation.68 But the nature of the State Unity Council of Russia had been settled even earlier. Already at the Jassy Conference (midNovember–early December 1918) it represented only one, predominantly rightist segment of civil society. The National Center The National Center had emerged in Moscow in May-June 1918 as a result of the conflict between the pro-German majority and pro-Allied minority in the Right Center. Being unable to change its political course, the pro-Allied politicians left the Right Center and set up their own organization. Besides Kadets, who clearly dominated this supposedly multiparty coalition, the National Center included more liberal elements from commercial and industrial

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circles, and representatives of the Orthodox Church, Old-Believers, and urban and local self-governments.69 The National Center existed in Moscow until mid-1919 but many of its members, especially its leaders abandoned the capital during the summer and early fall of 1918 and came to Kiev and Ekaterinodar. Among those who either visited or settled down temporarily in Kiev were: N. I. Astrov, V. N. Chelishchev, A. A. Cherven-Vodali, Prince P. D. Dolgorukov, M. M. Fedorov, Professor P. I. Novgorodtsev, Countess S. V. Panina, A. S. Salazkin, V. A. Stepanov, N. K. Volkov. These visits began in September but their peak occurred in late October-early November. Those who settled at least temporarily in Kiev, established in early November the all-Russian National Center (Vserossiiskii Natsional’nyi Tsentr) and claimed to be the headquarters for the local divisions of the National Center.70 Kiev also had a strong local branch of the National Center which sometime in the fall of 1918 assumed the name of the Kievan National Center (Kievskii Natsional’nyi Tsentr) to distinguish itself from the all-Russian National Center. The Kievan section of the National Center grew out of an intelligence organization called Azbuka, which was set up by Shulgin in the fall of 1917. Azbuka’s principal aim was to provide the Volunteer Army of General Alekseev, and later of General Denikin, with military and political information from most of the territories controlled by the Soviets and Germans. Azbuka was also to conduct propaganda on behalf of the Volunteer Army, maintain contacts with the Tsar’s family, politically evaluate officers and soldiers who enlisted in the Volunteer Army, organize uprisings on Bolshevik territories, and collect funds for the army. Throughout 1918 Azbuka maintained its headquarters in Kiev but its operations were financed by Moscow anti-Bolsheviks, originally business circles, later the Right Center and, from the summer 1918 until January 1919, the National Center.71 Strong connections with Moscow political groups quite naturally drew the Azbuka headquarters into politics, and its agents, from the summer of 1918, began to represent the National Center in Kiev. Needless to say, they acted in both capacities clandestinely, although their intelligence activity was kept in utmost secrecy, while their political work was merely confidential, and after the German note in October, quite open.72 As mentioned earlier, before the Revolution the founder of Azbuka, Shulgin, owned the influential, nationalist Russian daily Kievlianin. He enlisted into the Kiev branch of Azbuka some of his former journalist colleagues who within the National Center belonged to the so-called “Shulgin group.” Due to Shulgin’s absence (in the summer and fall of 1918 he was in Ekaterinodar and Odessa, and in October he entered the Special Council of General Denikin) the chief spokesman for this group, as well as for the Kievan branch of the National Center, was A. I. Savenko, a former member

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of the State Duma and journalist from Kievlianin. It appears that Savenko was also an Azbuka agent and hid under the pseudonym “Az.”73 The Shulgin group constituted the core of the Kievan National Center. Formally, several other groups joined the organization: the Multiparty Bloc of Russian Voters (Vnepartiinyi blok russkikh izbiratelei), the Club of Russian Nationalists (Klub russkikh natsionalistov), the Association Rus’ (Obshchestvo Rus’), and a Kadet faction led by A. E. Efimovskii and V. M. Levitskii.74 But at least some of them seemed to serve the Shulgin group as sheer front organizations, or as means to penetrate and control a particular environment.75 Already in his days as a member in the last three pre-revolutionary State Dumas, Shulgin was a well known nationalist, monarchist and supporter of autocracy, although then, he was also a proponent of preserving the legislative power of the Russian parliament. During the Civil War he became an advocate of constitutional monarchy, and Azbuka—as well as the Kievan section of the National Center—adopted this principle to their political program. A tsar was simply perceived as indispensable if Russia were to be restored as “great, one and indivisible.” Staunch supporters of the White Army, as they were, in this respect they strongly disagreed with its non-predetermination ideology set by Alekseev and maintained by Denikin. As Shulgin’s associates claimed, a future Constituent Assembly that would eventually decide the order in Russia was not an appealing slogan to predominantly monarchist officers and to the powerful monarchist movements in the South.76 Hence, they kept exerting pressure on the leaders of the Volunteer Army to openly embrace a monarchist ideology for the White movement. The Shulgin group as well as the majority of the Kievan National Center represented the interests of the Great Russian minority living in Ukraine. This explains their negative perception of separatist movements in the former Empire, especially of Ukraine’s, which they saw as a threat to Russia equal to, or even more menacing than Bolshevism. They believed the Bolshevik regime was doomed to collapse after the German fall, while the Ukrainian national movement, if not crushed when still weak, would require a long-term bloody struggle to defeat it. Az (Savenko) well illustrated this point when he wrote to Vedi (Shulgin): “If [the Ukrainian] independence movement grows strong and the Volunteer Army and the Allies recognize it, it will be necessary to migrate to Great Russia and from ‘abroad’ continue the struggle.” Hence, the Kievan National Center decided in a resolution issued on October 30 (17), 1918 to devote all of its energy to fighting against this threat. The solution of the Ukrainian question, as this group firmly maintained, lay in provincial autonomy—not in a separate Ukrainian state.77 The Kievan National Center was extremely fearful of Skoropadskyi’s attempts to gain recognition for the Hetmanate from the Allies. In the fall,

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Skoropadskyi revived an earlier idea of summoning the Ukrainian Parliament (Seim) which would legitimize his regime and thus help him in diplomatic actions. Similar fears aroused diplomatic initiatives undertaken in the West by separatists from the Ukrainian National Union. To counteract these initiatives, the Kievan National Center strongly opposed convoking the Seim and denounced the sheer notion of Ukraine as a state and of Ukrainians as a nation. In its own appeals to the Allies, it proclaimed that Ukraine was not a nation but a political party comprising national renegades who plotted to destroy the fatherland for Austrian and German money. They argued that the overwhelming majority of the Ukrainian population was “Little Russian,” who belonged to a branch of the Russian nation, and considered themselves Russians. As for the Hetmanate, it was a German puppet state that emerged as a result of national treason and the betrayal of the Allies.78 German support for Ukrainian separatism and its willingness to tolerate the Bolshevik regime explains the Kievan National Center’s scorn for proGerman Russian politicians and its uncompromising pro-Allied orientation. The Center rejected all offers of cooperation coming from the extreme monarchists and the Members of Legislative Chambers. It agreed on common action with the State Unity Council only in the face of encroaching Ukrainian detachments on Kiev.79 Instead, it preferred to continue the policy of cooperation initiated in Moscow between the National Center and the Union for Regeneration. Thus in spite of its contempt for socialists, it maintained, at least declaratively, contacts with the latter organization.80 Having difficulty in finding political partners inside the country, the Kievan National Center placed high hopes abroad. It believed that aid from the Allies was the remedy for most of Russia’s troubles. It took for granted Western support for a Russia, “great, one and indivisible, and, like other Russian political groups, expected swift military intervention, and material and financial help for the Volunteer Army of Denikin. It also anticipated Western endorsement of a monarchy in Russia.81 Political ambitions impeded cooperation between the Kiev branch and politicians of the National Center who came from Moscow. Their first official meeting, on November 7, was still friendly. The groups exchanged information about themselves and, basically, acknowledged the unanimity of their political programs. They also accepted a proposition from M. M. Fedorov, who was the leading figure among the newcomers, that the latter group would establish a local cell of the Moscow National Center. The friction began, when this supposedly local cell attempted to impose itself as the highest authority on the whole organization and to treat the National Center in Kiev merely as its branch. For the Muscovites who were high-ranking Kadet politicians this seemed a natural order of things. After all, the National Center was mostly a

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Kadet formation. Furthermore, the newcomers sought contacts with Kadets living in Kiev and tried to enlist them in the organization. Such recruitment was, however, anathema for the Kievan National Center because the political reputation of Kiev’s liberals was often completely tarnished by their proGerman past.82 Attitudes toward Miliukov illustrate this point well. While for the local politicians of the National Center, he was considered either a traitor or mentally ill, a man with whom a Russian patriot should not have had anything in common, for the Moscow liberals, he was still a venerable figure.83 Thus, after Miliukov disavowed his past pro-German tactics, Fedorov deemed it quite natural to appoint him to the post of vice-deputy chairman in the all-Russian National Center without demanding his resignation from the same function in the State Unity Council.84 The all-Russian organization was not only almost exclusively Kadet but what’s more, it seemed as though its membership had been limited to Kadet leaders. Many of them treated Kiev as a brief respite on the way from Moscow to Ekaterinodar, which some sarcastically called their “Mecca.”85 It was there that they played the role of Denikin’s closest advisors in political affairs and served in his civilian administration, including its highest organ, the Special Council. From this perspective, the all-Russian National Center looked like little more than a transient group which perceived its true political interest in Ekaterinodar, and subordinated its activity in Kiev to that end. Relations with the Kiev group were, anyhow, only of minor significance for Moscow politicians at that time. For, in the first half of November, the allRussian National Center was preoccupied with matters that seemed of utmost importance for Russia’s future, namely, an approaching conference of leading Russian political figures and Western ambassadors to Romania. The explicit purpose of this meeting, known as the Jassy Conference, was to restore contacts between the anti-Bolshevik movement and the Allied Governments. But pro-Western Russian politicians also expected that this event would confirm their great hopes as to the intentions of the Entente toward Russia. As previously in Moscow, they foresaw a large military intervention—only this time in the South, not in the East—and viewed the conference as the preliminary consultations which was to precede a major breakthrough in the course of the Civil War.86 An instruction prepared for representatives of the National Center to the Jassy Conference clearly reflected this perception. In this document, drafted probably in Ekaterinodar, the Center affirmed the impeccable pro-Western credentials of Denikin’s Volunteer Army and of its own, and then stated that due to Russia’s sacrifices in the Great War, it expected the Allies to deliver massive assistance in money, armaments and other military materials to the army. Furthermore, it insisted that the German Army immediately withdraw

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from the South and that Allied troops replace it upon its departure. The National Center also addressed domestic affairs in the instruction hoping to win Western support for its proposals. The Center assumed that the principal objective of the Allies in Russia was to restore its statehood and territorial integrity. To achieve these aims, it deemed it necessary to create a Russian government in the South which would gradually expand its control over all of the territories freed from German occupation. The instruction further proposed that this government: be formed next to the commander of the Volunteer Army; be provisional until consultations with the Ufa Directory made it possible to establish an all-Russian government; and, for the time being, be recognized as representing Russia abroad.87 The concept of southern authority put forward by the National Center actually might have gained approval in Jassy not by the Western ambassadors, who remained passive and uninvolved, but by the Union for Regeneration and the State Unity Council which also participated in the conference. However before the conference, the Center’s representatives must have received some additional instructions from Ekaterinodar that brought the organization’s political program into line with Denikin’s agenda. For, in Jassy, they regarded the Ufa Directory as one of many local governments, and arbitrarily demanded that Russian authority in the South take the form of a Denikin dictatorship and be recognized as the all-Russian Government.88 The all-Russian National Center excluded the Kievan group from all preparatory work for the conference, and did not invite any of its members to Jassy. For its part, the Kievan National Center did not acknowledge the superiority of the all-Russian organization and called it contemptuously “Volkov’s” National Center referring to Fedorov’s successor, N. K. Volkov. In the remaining days of the Hetmanate, both groups occasionally took the same political stance. For instance, they protested against the convocation of the Seim, refused to cooperate with the Hetman even after he proclaimed his edict on federation, and appealed for the defense of Kiev against Petliura. However, as organizations, they became with time more and more estranged.89 The Kievan National Center spent the last period before the collapse of the Hetmanate preparing the National Russian Congress of Southern Russia (natsional’nyi russkii s”ezd Iuzhnoi Rossii), which it planned to convoke on January 9, 1919 (December 22, 1918). The Kiev activists undertook this initiative in complete independence from the all-Russian National Center. They intended to gather representatives of Russian civil society from the South and to prove the truly Russian character of Ukraine, or, as organizers preferred to say, of Little Russia.90 Because Petliura captured Kiev in mid-December, the Congress, naturally, could not take place and the plan proved futile. The lead-

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ership of both factions of the National Center then moved to Odessa, while activists who decided to remain in Kiev went underground. The Union for the Regeneration of Russia The Union for the Regeneration of Russia originated in Moscow in the spring of 1918 as a left wing multiparty coalition of the Popular Socialists, Right Socialist Revolutionists, Unity and Defensist Social Democrats, and some left Kadets. When in the summer of 1918 the general exodus of Moscow’s antiBolshevik politicians began, activists of the Union deemed the East to be more promising for their cause than the South. Only after the trek East proved extremely dangerous, did some of them—including the leader of the Union V. A. Miakotin—decide to migrate to Kiev, hoping that from there, they would have a better chance at reaching the East. Only when this proved equally difficult, did they settle in Kiev and establish there the new headquarters of their organization.91 In Ukraine’s capital, the Union had a local cell headed by D. M. Odinets. This organization was founded sometime during the summer. At the time of Miakotin’s arrival in late September or early October, it had already gathered a couple dozen of followers. Their majority, however, were not local but came from other regions. Furthermore, unlike other multiparty groups, none of the Union’s members enjoyed national stature, or was known to Kiev’s public, or had good connections with the Hetman’s Government or White authority in Ekaterinodar. There were several Kadet leaders, such as Astrov, Stepanov and Volkov, who still belonged to the Union and who had some of those qualities, but their membership in the Union was only formal and, in fact, their only contacts with it was as representatives of the National Center.92 The Union was small and without much influence, and remained underground until the fall of Skoropadskyi. Being on the sidelines of Kiev politics, it focused mainly upon the propagation of its program and on searching for allies among other political parties, according to Miakotin.93 The Union gathered socialists who, at least in theory, placed the good of the Russian state above any particular—class or regional—interests. Thus, its political program was on the surface not far from that of the National Center or, for that matter, the leadership of the White Army. The Union desired the preservation of the Russian state as one and indivisible, and was against the recognition of any of the new states which had appeared in the South. It was especially hostile toward the Hetmanate. The Union was also unwaveringly anti-German and it nurtured the typical illusions of pro-Allied politicians about the intentions of the Entente toward Russia. In the fall of 1918, it expected: Western military intervention to quickly remove the German Army

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from the South and defend the region against Bolshevik encroachment; comprehensive aid for the Volunteer Army, especially in armaments; and respect for the integrity of the Russian state, specifically, the non-recognition of the Hetmanate. Yet, there were also important differences which separated the Union from the White military leadership. The Union firmly opposed the idea of Denikin’s dictatorship, either as a local authority in the South or as an allRussian government. Instead it maintained that an all-Russian Government had already been formed, and that the Ufa Directory was this government. As for authority in the South, the Union supported a local authority which would take the form of a directory, created by society’s political forces.94 The Union also considered federation to be the appropriate structure for the future Russian state. This stance contradicted the position of the National Center as well as the tactics of the White Army. Officially Denikin—in accordance with a non-predetermination policy—was not against federation but, in fact, he followed a centralizing policy and viewed the principle of federation as a cover for separatism.95 Another principle which separated the Union from other multiparty organizations as well as the White Army was its militant anti-monarchism. Both the State Unity Council and the National Center supported constitutional monarchy even if they differed in the degree of their commitment to that principle, and in their understanding of how and when it should be inaugurated. The Volunteer Army, in turn, refused to endorse monarchy not because of any particular prejudice against it, but because of its non-predetermination ideology and because of Denikin’s fear for his power. But the majority of White officers were monarchist, and this was the main cause of the Union’s distrust of the army, and its opposition to a Denikin dictatorship. As it maintained, this could lead to the restoration of the Old Regime. The insistence of the Union for Regeneration on the acceptance of the Ufa Directory as the all-Russian Government made its second task in Kiev—the search for political partners—extremely difficult. On the Right, there was no group which shared the Union’s opinion of the Directory. On the contrary, the Right deemed it to be preposterous, while the position of the liberal center was ambiguous at best. As for the Left, many could not forgive the Union for its collaboration with the “bourgeoisie.”96 Thus, the only group which had some contact with the Union was its traditional partner from Moscow, the National Center, both all-Russian and Kievan.97 Although Miakotin admits that Kiev under the Hetman was not a Union for Regeneration stronghold, not all of his colleagues were so realistic. For example, when a group of university students refused to be drafted by the Hetman’s authorities but said that they would have obeyed a conscription order issued by the Union for Regeneration, some local leaders of the Union inter-

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preted this as a sign of their organization’s strength. In fact, as Miakotin concedes, the students did not want to serve in any military force and used the Union’s name for expediency’s sake.98 Socialist politicians displayed similar misjudgments but of an even greater magnitude in regard to the Union’s ability to gain power in Ukraine. They entered into contact with a group of “radical” officers who pledged to oust the Hetman and then to establish a Union government in Ukraine headed by Odinets. This delusion cost the Union a great deal of money—obtained from the French, as Denikin implies—but brought nothing in return. The radical officers were either completely corrupt and ready to make any promises to whoever paid them; or they were crypto-Bolsheviks interested, indeed, in overthrowing the Hetman but not for the Union’s benefit. Furthermore, a Union’s voluntary corps, originally planned to consist of three hundred soldiers and eventually of a thousand, attracted only twenty-three volunteers.99 V. B. Stankevich, a conduit between the Union and the officers, claims that the alleged coup was set for November 14, the day when Skoropadskyi proclaimed his edict on Ukrainian-Russian federation. As he maintains, this coincidence brought confusion into the plotters’ ranks, and subsequently the coup was postponed indefinitely.100 Like the all-Russian National Center, the Union for Regeneration was very excited at the prospect of the meeting in Jassy. For that purpose, it prepared a special appeal, addressed to the future commander of the Allied forces intervening in the South, and assumed that its delegates to Jassy would be able to deliver it. They also treated the appeal as their instruction for the conference. In the appeal, the Union reiterated its political principles already characterized above, and its faith in a quick Allied landing in the South.101 In the last period of Skoropadskyi’s rule, the Union for Regeneration together with the all-Russian and Kievan National Center pressed for the passing of military command over the Hetmanate’s voluntary units to General Lomnovskii. When this proved futile, the Union hesitated and did not take a clear position on whether to support the defense of Kiev against the Ukrainians, or to aid Petliura against the Hetman. The former meant a betrayal of socialism, while the latter would be a betrayal of national interests. Members of the Union were therefore left to sort out their priorities.102 Meanwhile, many Union’s activists, like those of other organizations, left Kiev for Odessa. Only underground, at first under the Ukrainian Directory and later under the Bolsheviks, did the fighting political factions of Russian society in Kiev finally find unity. Both factions of the National Center, the Union for the Regeneration of Russia, the remnants of the Enlistment Bureau of the Volunteer Army, and the delegates of local cooperatives created the National Unification

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(Natsional’noe Ob”edinenie). This organization provided intelligence for the White Army, led economic sabotage and carried out anti-Bolshevik propaganda by publishing three newspapers as well as printing leaflets. It survived until September of 1919, when the White Army occupied Ukraine.103 It is conceivable that already in the second half of 1918 the South could have posed a genuine threat to the Soviet regime. However, internal divisions among the political and military centers of the anti-Bolshevik resistance were too great to make this threat real. Although each had considerable resources at its disposal, alone, neither the White Army, Ukraine, the Don nor the extreme Right and its armies, was a match for Soviet might. Still relatively weak, the Volunteer Army on the Kuban invariably refused to partake in any broad anti-Bolshevik alliance. Instead, it aimed at the consolidation of the non-Bolshevik Russian forces on its own terms. The Army cultivated its self-image as the last bulwark of true Russia, untainted by any particular interests, and exclusively in the service of the national cause. Yet, its Commander-in-chief Denikin made a travesty of these lofty ideas. The national cause in his and his associates’ interpretation became a struggle for the restoration of imperial Russia. As a result, any cooperation with Ukraine and the other remnants of Russian statehood in the South had to be ruled out. Furthermore, although Denikin denounced others for narrow factional struggles, he himself—demonstrating a partisanship worthy of any politician—declined to cooperate with anyone who expected to be treated as a partner. Instead, he demanded unconditional subordination to his authority. Denikin’s arrogance seemed to be one of the most important factors which prevented the unification of the anti-Bolsheviks forces in the South in the second half of 1918. Although theoretically an independent state, Ukraine was itself involved in endeavors aimed at Russia’s restoration. In early November 1918, even before he issued the edict on federation, Hetman Skoropadskyi, together with the Ataman of the Don Cossacks Krasnov, put forward the idea of a general alliance of the South against the Soviet regime. Considering all differences among the anti-Bolsheviks as secondary, they wanted to bring together the Volunteer Army of Denikin, Ukraine, the Don and, if possible, Georgia, the Crimea and the Terek region. Regardless of how plausible this concept was, it never had a chance to be tested because of its prompt rejection by Denikin. Ukraine’s involvement in all-Russian affairs took another, indirect form. The Hetman and his German patrons created a considerable force that otherwise would have never emerged, or would have remained a tiny fringe group: the extreme monarchists. With the blessing and money from the Germans and the Hetman, the diehard reactionary politicians were able to organize several monarchist armies which, although of dubious military value, gathered thou-

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sands of officers. Convinced of its strength, the extreme Right developed political ambitions of its own and not only dreamt of the restoration of the monarchy but also of the annihilation of the Soviet regime. Already in October 1918, it tried to unite the South, overthrow the Bolsheviks and put Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich on the imperial throne. Yet, the whole idea collapsed, as its numerous elements were not worked out but taken for granted. The Monarchists’ belief that others would not only agree to joint them, but would also accept their leadership is particularly striking examples of their wishful thinking. Yet, having said that, one has to also conclude that the diehard monarchists were not the most guilty for the failure of the grand design to create a united front of the entire South against the Bolsheviks. For, had the White Army agreed to join the proposed front, had its commanders encouraged rather than discouraged the Grand Duke to lead it, that front might have emerged, even without the extreme Right at its head. But the narrow-minded monarchism of the extreme Right was matched both by the narrow-minded Russian nationalism of the White politicians who could not tolerate any deviation from the orthodox idea of a “great, one and indivisible Russia,” and by the petty jealousy of the commander-in-chief of the White Army. As it happened, the anti-Bolshevik political opposition in Kiev acted against this background. Perhaps because of this background, it was the Right which took upon itself the task—which in Moscow the liberals had championed—of unifying all of civil society’s political forces, and of restoring an all-Russian Government. Looking at it from this perspective, the emergence of the strong current of the moderate Right was the most important event in the history of the political opposition in Ukraine. The moderate Right developed the ambitious concept for the State Unity Council, which greatly exceeded the parameters of a rightist organization. The Council was to represent Russian civil society as a whole, and as such was to serve as a parliament-like institution; a body exercising the highest moral and spiritual authority in Russia. This, in turn, would have enabled it to enter into negotiations with the commanders of the various anti-Bolshevik armies, in particular with Generals Denikin and Krasnov. Together with them, the State Unity Council could have then established an all-Russian government which could have reclaimed political control over the military, continued the struggle against the Soviet regime and represented Russia abroad. Furthermore, the State Unity Council was also willing to reach a compromise with the nationalities in the borderlands, making a step which the liberals and nationalists abhorred. To placate at least moderate elements among the nationalities and to harness them into the anti-Bolshevik struggle, the State Unity Council promised a federal state order in a future Russia. Thus, by

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creating the highest Russian authority and, at the same time, by reducing tensions among the nationalities in the South, the Council hoped to forge the entire South into a large front against the Soviet regime. It might be said that the concept of the State Unity Council failed under the weight of the Right’s own success. For this wing of the Right dominated the political stage in Kiev to such a degree that the State Unity Council simply could not find any viable partners among the liberal, nationalist and leftist wings of the Russian intelligentsia. The Kievan National Center could not be taken into account due to its narrow chauvinism and passionate hatred for politicians of the German orientation. Two other groups, the allRussian Center and the Union for Regeneration were weak and did not really appreciate the great opportunity offered to them. In late October-early November, at the time when the idea of the State Unity Council was presented, they were preoccupied with the upcoming Jassy Conference: the prospect of Allied intervention offered them an excuse for remaining nonnoncommittal. But this meant that the moderate Right was left alone in Kiev. The search for an understanding with Ekaterinodar, in turn, brought total disaster. The overt and covert rejection of the State Unity Council by Denikin and Ekaterinodar’ Kadets brought a definitive end to this idea. Consequently, the State Unity Council was reduced to representing only the rightist elements in civil society. The emergence in Kiev of several multiparty organizations instead of one was not harmful in itself. On the contrary, a better, more accurate expression of the different interests within Russian society could have been a healthy phenomenon, if the common good for which they all professed to care, had been a true aim of the political elites. This division, however, became selfdestructive when the multiparty organizations could not rise above their petty quarrels. The moderate Right was the only group in Kiev which had the will and vision to achieve the goals that the political leaders of civil society had sought since Moscow. Unlike the others, the Right not only talked about these goals; it also created an organizational structure and worked out a comprehensive plan that might have led to their realization. The Center and Left, although they could not conceive any corresponding strategy, were either hostile or indifferent toward the State Unity Council, and allowed it to fall, and with it, perhaps the only chance to unite the entire South in an anti-Bolshevik alliance. Instead, both looked forward to meeting Western ambassadors in Jassy. As a matter of fact, after the collapse of the idea of the State Unity Council, there was nothing else to look for in Kiev. The only breakthrough could come in Jassy. Yet, the support for Denikin’s dictatorship by the all-

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Russian Center and for the Ufa Directory by the Union for Regeneration was ominous for the upcoming Jassy Conference.The former really meant the abandonment of the principle that society had held dear—its leadership in the struggle against the Bolsheviks, whereas the latter, in view of the Left’s weakness in the South and Admiral Kolchak’s overthrow of the Ufa Directory, proved utterly pointless. NOTES 1. For a general survey of the Hetmanate, see Włodzimierz Me˛drzecki, Niemiecka interwencja militarna na Ukrainie w 1918 roku (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo DiG, 2000), 146–310; John S. Reshetar, The Ukrainian Revolution: A Study in Nationalism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1952), 136–207; Joan L. Stachiw (ed.), Ukraine and the European Turmoil, 1917–1919, 2 vols. (New York: the Shevchenko Scientific Society, 1973), I, 76–102. 2. Khliboroby meant peasant-owners personally tilling their land, with or without help of farmhands, see Me˛drzecki, Niemiecka interwencja, 150 and Reshetar, Ukrainian Revolution, 120. Their party, however, departed quite far from representing only peasant farmers because it had nobility in its leadership (Count D. F. Geiden, A. A. Znosko-Borovskii, Count Konovnits, D. F. Andro, B. F. Grigorenko). 3. For detailed description of events leading Skoropadskyi to power, see Me˛drzecki, Niemiecka interwencja, 128–64; Reshetar, The Ukrainian Revolution, 115–35. 4. V. I. Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” ARR, XV (1924), 28; Az, Azbuka report, Kiev, Oct. 11, 1918 (N. S.), WMA, file 141, pp. 2–3. Both Geiden and Golitsyn had also been members of pre-Revolutionary State Duma. 5. “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 5, a typewritten copy of an article in Azbuka report, Kiev, Jan. 19, 1919, WMA, file 141; “Ekstrennoe Soobshchenie Aza,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Nov. 24 (11), 1918, WMA, file 141, pp. 1–2. 6. Denikin lists Protofis and the League of Landowners among groups composing the State Unity Council. Prince Golitsyn even participated in its foundation: Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 185n; M. S. Margulies, God interventsii, 3 vols. (Berlin: Izdatel’stvo Z. I. Grzhebina, 1923), I, 16–17. 7. Some sources use also the term: the Union of the Monarchist Bloc (Soiuz monarkhicheskogo bloka). 8. “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 5; and Azbuka reports from Kiev, in WMA, file 141: “Ekstrennoe Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 24 (11), 1918, pp. 1–2; Az, (n. d.), p. 2–3. Also, “Kratkiie svedeniia o deiatel’nosti ‘Soveta Gosudarstvennago O”edineniia,’” Azbuka report, April, 1919, WMA, file 129, p. 4, and Denikin, Ocherki, III, 119. Among Bezak’s followers there were: K. P. Grigorovich-Barskii, Katenin, Skarzhinskii. Pelikan’s group included Prince Kochubei, Kotov-Konashevich and Shcheglovitov, son of former minister I. G. Shcheglovitov shot by Bolsheviks. Former minister of Agriculture A. V. Krivoshein and former assistant to Premier Stolypin

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S. E. Kryzhanovskii were mentioned among Bloc’s sympathizers, if not its members, cf. Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: “Doklad Oko,” Oct. 26 (Nov. 8), 1918, p. 2; Az, (n. d.), p. 3, and a report dated Oct. 10, 1918. 9. Sources also mention Dolgorukov as the head of the Monarchist Bloc. However, Denikin quotes an official agreement between the Bloc and the Astrakhan Army where Sokolov figures as the Bloc’s leader (Ocherki, III, 119n). 10. Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: “Soobshchenie Az,” Aug. 10, 1918, p. 5; Az, Sept. 20, 1918, p. 3; Az, (n. d.), p.. 3; Oko, Sept. 4, 1918; Oko, Sept. 15, 1918. Also “Kratkiie svedeniia o deiatel’nosti ‘Soveta Gosudarstvennago Ob”edineniia,’” p. 4; Gertsog G. Leikhtenbergskii, “Kak nachalas’ Iuzhnaia Armiia,” ARR, VIII (1923), 166, 173–74; Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 33–42; Denikin, Ocherki, III, 120–21. 11. Leikhtenbergskii, “Kak nachalas’ Iuzhnaia Armiia,” 173. Keller had been Denikin’s commander in the past and Denikin could not bring himself to condemn him, as he did with all the others who participated in German and Ukrainian sponsored actions. 12. Leikhtenbergskii, “Kak nachalas’ Iuzhnaia Armiia,” 166. Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: Az, (n. d.), p. 3 and “Doklad poruchnika Novitskago,” (n. d.), pp. 2–3. This attitude was typical among pro-German politicians. General Krasnov, who was only loosely connected with the extreme monarchists, expresses this sentiment very well: P. N. Krasnov, “Vsevelikoe Voisko Donskoe,” ARR, V (1922), 218–23; 238–41. 13. “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 5, and “Ekstrennoe Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 24 (11), 1918, pp. 1–2. See also other Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: Az, (n. d.), pp. 2–3; “Doklad poruchnika Novitskago,” pp. 2–3; Oko, Aug. 26 (Sept. 8), 1918; Dobro, Sept. 8, 1918. See also Izhe, Azbuka report, Kiev, Sept. 2 (15), 1918, WMA, file 136. Azbuka agent Dobro suggested in one of his report that Akatsatov was “a former, pre-revolutionary agent provocateur” (Dobro, “Politicheskaia obstanovka,” Azbuka report, Sept. 10, WMA, file 141). 14. “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 5, and “Ekstrennoe Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 24 (11), 1918, pp. 1–2; Leikhtenbergskii, “Kak nachalas’ Iuzhnaia Armiia,” 169–182; P. I. Zalesskii, “Iuzhnaia Armiia,” Donskaia Letopis, III (1923), 234, 237; Denikin, Ocherki, III, 119–21. 15. V. V. Shul’gin to V. A. Bobrinskii, correspondence, Sept. 30 (O. S.), 1918, WMA, file 136. 16. “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 5; “Ekstrennoe Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 24 (11), 1918, p. 2; Az, (n. d.), Kiev, p. 2 in WMA, file 141 and Leikhtenbergskii, “Kak nachalas’ Iuzhnaia Armiia,” 178. 17. It was the first Russian army sponsored by the Germans. When they cut funds in August, Tundutov (an adventurer according to Denikin) was forced to look elsewhere for support, and on Sept. 7, 1918 (O. S.) he entered into an agreement with the Monarchist Bloc: Denikin, Ocherki, III, 117–19. On the Astrakhan Army, see also, “Donesenie Oko,” Azbuka report, July 27–Aug. 9, 1918, WMA, file 141. Tundutov and his army had contacts with Moscow Right Center according to Denikin (ibid.).

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18. “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 5; “Ekstrennoe Soobshchenie Aza, Nov. 24 (11), 1918, p. 2. See also, Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: “Soobshchenie Ize,” Oct. 10, 1918; “Soobshchenie Oko,” Oct. 24, 1918 (O. S.), “Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 29 (16), 1918; “Soobshchenie Buki,” Jan. 12, 1919 (Dec. 30, 1918); “Poiasnitel’naia zapiska k shtabam biura Severnoi Armii,” (n. d.), and in WMA, file 136: “Dla Izhe,” Oct. 13, 1918 (O. S.); “Vedi ot Izhe,” Nov. 8, 1918 (N. S.). 19. This united army was sometimes called the Southern Army which causes additional confusion. Some sources mention Keller as its designated commander. However, the evidence is clear that Keller and Dolgorukov attempted to convince the Grand Duke to lead monarchist forces. “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Oct. 18, 1918, WMA, file 141, p. 5, and Denikin, Ocherki, III, 254–55. 20. Such a scenario was never put together in one, comprehensive plan by the extreme Right. Its recreation presented here is based on various statements and allusions, which sometimes contain contradictory details. All evidence however, indicates that this was a general objective of the extreme monarchists. For example, see several intelligence reports written by Azbuka in Kiev in WMA, file 141: Az, (n. d., but late Sept. or early Oct., 1918), pp. 3–4; Oko, Sept. 25; “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Oct. 18, 1918; Izhe, (n. d.), p. 6. See also Azbuka report, Sept. 21–29, 1918, in WMA, file 167, p. 5; Leikhtenbergskii, “Kak nachalas’ Iuzhnaia Armiia,” 166–67; Krasnov, “Vsevelikoe Voisko Donskoe,” 243–44, and Denikin, Ocherki, III, 254–55; IV, 183. 21. General Krasnov who left a very unflattering description of the Southern and Astrakhan Armies (confirmed by many Azbuka reports), did not treat extreme monarchists as equal partners, and himself aspired to a leadership position in an antiBolshevik crusade: Krasnov, “Vsevelikoe Voisko Donskoe,” 236–39, 243–45. General Alekseev disturbed by rumors that Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich might accept the Bloc’s proposition, urged him to refuse: Denikin, Ocherki, III, 255–56. Similar letter sent Rodzianko, Shulgin and Stepanov: M. V. Rodzianko, V. A. Stepanov, V. V. Shul’gin to Grand Duke (Nikolai Nikolaevich), correspondence, Azbuka report, WMA, file 136. Keller was so shocked by Grand Duke’s refusal that he became ill: “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Oct. 18, 1918, WMA, file 141, p. 5. See also “Doklad poruchnika Novitskago,” p. 3. 22. Krasnov, “Vsevelikoe Voisko Donskoe,” 236–39. Report on the situation in Ukraine, Sept. 1918 to Feb. 1919, Cheriachukin Papers, file 4, Hoover Institution, Stanford University. An Azbuka agent suggested earlier that Skoropadskyi wanted only an alliance between the Don and Ukraine, but Krasnov insisted on including the Volunteer Army: Dobro, “Politicheskaia obstanovka k 16–mu oktiabria, Ezhenedel’noe donesenie,” Azbuka report, Oct. 16, 1918, Kiev, WMA, file 141, p. 2. Denikin mentions a letter sent to General Dragomirov on Nov. 18, 1918 in which Skoropadskyi is quoted as saying that he had asked Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich to accept the supreme command over all Russian armies and governments in the South. The Grand Duke, however, rejected this offer as well (Ocherki, IV, 192). See also, Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 73–74, 76–77. 23. Krasnov, “Vsevelikoe Voisko Donskoe,” 240. General Alekseev died on Oct. 8, hence Denikin was the only leader of the White Army at the time the proposition was put forward.

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24. Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: Az, Oct. 11, 1918, p. 5; “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Oct. 18, 1918, p. 6; “Soobshchenie Aza,”, pp. 6–7. Denikin estimates that approximately 3000–4000 officers enlisted to the Special Corps and to other voluntary detachments led by General Kirpichev, Colonel Sviatopolk-Mirskii, Rubanov and others (Ocherki, IV, 189–90). 25. Krasnov and Skoropadskyi decided the fate of the monarchist armies during their meeting on Nov. 2 Skoropadskyi promised seventy-six million rubles for the new Southern Army. Leikhtenbergskii, “Kak nachalas’ Iuzhnaia Armiia,” 181; Zalesskii, “Iuzhnaia Armiia,” 239–40. See also Krasnov, “Vsevelikoe Voisko Donskoe,” 238, 242–45; Lukomskii, Vospominaiia, II, 61, and “Soobshchenie Aza,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Nov. 15, 1918, WMA, file 141. 26. Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: Az, (n. d.), pp. 1–2; Az, Oct. 11, 1918, pp. 2–3; “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Oct. 18, 1918, p. 4, and “Soobshchenie Aza,” Oct. 25, 1918, pp. 2–3. See also Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 180, and Reshetar, Ukrainian Revolution, 192–94. 27. Azbuka reports sent from Kiev in WMA, file 141: “Soobshchenie Dobro,” Oct. 2, 1918, pp. 1–3; “Soobshchenie Dobro,” Nov. 8, p. 2; Az, Oct. 11, pp. 2–3; “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Oct. 18, p. 4; “Soobshchenie Aza,” Oct. 25, p. 5 and Nov. 1, pp. 11, 15, “Soobshchenie Vserossiiskago Natsional’nago Tsentra,” Dec. 17 (4), and Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 183. Cf. Me˛drzecki, Niemiecka interwencja, 270. 28. Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: Oko, Nov. 8 (Oct. 26), 1918, pp. 2–3; “Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 8, 1918, p. 2, and Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 183. Cf. Me˛drzecki, ibid. 29. For a general survey of events leading to the proclamation of federation and its results, see Me˛drzecki, Niemiecka interwencja, 270–273; Reshetar, Ukrainian Revolution, 191–99. For the Ukrainian point of view: see Stachiw, Ukraine and the European Turmoil, 183–214. 30. Denikin, Ocherki IV, 190–91, 198. Denikin maintains that he intended only to unify the command of the Russian voluntary troops in Ukraine and prevent them from participating in the Ukrainian civil war. To achieve this, he designated General Lomnovskii—the chief of the Enlistment Bureau of the Volunteer Army in Kiev—to be their commander and ordered him to cooperate militarily with the Hetman only in case of a Bolshevik invasion of Ukraine. See also Azbuka report from Kiev in WMA, file 141: “Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 15, 1918, pp. 2–3, and Nov. 22 (9), p. 1, and in WMA, file 131: Buki, Jan. 12, 1919 (Dec. 30, 1918), p. 2. Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 46–47. 31. Azbuka agents and Denikin himself summarized the impact of the orders in their own terms: According to their interpretation, the order made many people abandon the Ukrainian service and feel Russian again: Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 190–91; “Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 15, 1918, pp. 2–3. See also Buki, Jan. 12, 1919, p. 2. 32. Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 190–91; “Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 15, 1918, p. 3. See also, Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 75–76. 33. Skoropadskyi tried at first to contact the Ukrainian Directory, and only afterwards decided to turn to the Monarchist Bloc: “Ekstrennoe Soobshchenie Aza,”

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Azbuka, report, Kiev, Nov. 24 (11), 1918, WMA, file 141, p. 3. For the final days of the Hetmanate, see also Me˛drzecki, Niemiecka interwencja, 274–304; Reshetar, Ukrainian Revolution, 198–202; Stachiw, Ukraine and the European Turmoil, 207–223. 34. “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 5; “Ekstrennoe Soobshchenie Aza, Nov. 24 (11), 1918, p. 4; “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Oct. 18, WMA, file 141, p. 6. 35. Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 183. According to Denikin, Zamyslovskii was delegated to Rostov to organize the congress but Az, an Azbuka agent, connects his travel to the Don with the transfer of the Southern Army of Akatsatov and the Astrakhan Army to the new Southern Army: “Ekstrennoe Soobshchenie Aza,” Azbuka, report, Kiev, Nov. 24 (11), 1918, WMA, file 141, p. 2. 36. Lukomskii, Vospominaniia, II, 126. Appointment of Keller is described in many Azbuka reports, i.a., “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 5 and 6, Jan. 19, 1919, in Azbuka report, in WMA, file 141; “Ekstrennoe soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 24 (11), 1918, p. 3; “Soobshchenie Aza,” Kiev, Nov. 15, 1918 (O. S.), WMA, file 141, p. 5, and Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 196. Passing civil authority on to the commander-inchief perhaps might be explained by the fact that after the proclamation of the edict on federation, Ukraine was in an undeclared state of martial law. 37. “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 6; “Ekstrennoe soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 24 (11), 1918, pp 3–4; “Soobshchenie Vserossiiskago Natsional’nago Tsentra,” Azbuka report, Dec. 17 (4), in WMA, file 141, p. 2. In a telegram sent to Denikin on the day of his nomination Keller informed that he took full control over military and civil affairs (Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 196). 38. Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 197; Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: “Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 22 (9), 1918, p. 2, and Nov. 29 (16), p. 2; “Ekstrennoe Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 24 (11), p. 4. Keller also “settled” old accounts with the Union of Our Fatherland by arresting Akatsatov. 39. “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 6; “Ekstrennoe soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 24 (11), 1918, p. 4. The expression “the unity of Russian people” meant that the Great Russians, Little Russians (Ukrainians) and Byelorussians were not separate nations but constituted one Russian nation. 40. Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 197; “Soobshchenie Aza,” Azbuka report, Nov. 29 (16), 1918, WMA, file 141, pp. 1–3. 41. Ibid. 42. Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 131: “Soobshchenie Aza,” Dec. 21 (8), 1918, pp. 2–3, and Buki, Jan. 12, 1919 (Dec. 30, 1918), p.p. 3–4. Units led by Sviatopolk-Mirskii and Rubanov were in a state of revolt, Denikin, Ocherki, IV, p. 198–99. 43. Azbuka reports from Kiev: “Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 29 (16), 1918, WMA, file 141, p. 3; “Soobshchenie Aza,” Dec. 21 (8), WMA, file 131, p. 3, and Buki, Jan. 12, 1919 (Dec. 30, 1918), WMA, file 131, p. 4; Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 199–201. 44. Ibid. Some volunteers left Ukraine with the German Army, while others were later freed by the Ukrainian Directory.

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45. For a detailed description of Miliukov’s negotiations, see Rosenberg, Liberals, 312–20, and Kenez, Civil War in South Russia, 1918, 162–64. See also Miliukov’s own summary of the negotiations quoted in: Denikin, Ocherki, III, 82–83. 46. Denikin, Ocherki, III, 253, IV, 186 and Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu.” In addition to Krivoshein, among the most prominent members of the Right Center who came to Kiev were S. E. Kryzhanovskii (late July or early August) and V. I. Gurko and Baron V. V. Meller-Zakomel’skii who came a month later. 47. “Soobshchenie Az,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Aug. 10, 1918, WMA, file 141, pp. 2–3; V. A. Stepanov—Natsional’nyi Tsentr, correspondence, Azbuka report, Kiev, Sept. 10, 1918, WMA, file 167, p. 4. 48. For a detailed account of German policy toward Soviet Russia, see Pipes, Russian Revolution, 612–70. 49. Azbuka report, Kiev, Sept. 7, 1918, WMA, file 141; “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 32. The tsar ‘s family was murdered on the night of July 16/17, 1918. 50. “Otdel’noe soobshchenie dlia Vedi,” Azbuka report, Kiev, (n. d., but early Nov., 1918), WMA, file 141, p. 1. Krivoshein said that in a conversation with an Azbuka agent Az (Savenko), who then wrote a report to Vedi (Shulgin). Cf. “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Oct. 18, 1918 WMA, file 14. For more on Azbuka and its agents, see the fragment below on the National Center. 51. “Kratkiie svedeniia o deiatel’nosti ‘Soveta Gosudarstvennago Ob”edineniia,’” Azbuka report, April 1919, WMA, file 129, pp. 3–4; “Soobshchenie Az,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Aug. 10, 1918, p. 3, and “Otdel’noe soobshchenie dlia Vedi,” Azbuka report, Kiev, (n. d., but early Nov., 1918) both in WMA, file 141; Stepanov— Natsional’nyi Tsentr, correspondence, Azbuka report, Sept. 10, 1918, WMA, file 167, p. 4; Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 186, 196. 52. Natsional’nyi Tsentr—Alekseev, correspondence, Azbuka report, June 19 (6), 1918, p. 4, WMA, file 167, and two Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: “Soobshchenie Az,” Aug. 10, 1918, p. 3; and Sept. 7, 1918, p. 1. They also considered the candidacy of Grand Duke Mikhail Aleksandrovich. See previous chapter: “Moscow: High Hopes.” 53. “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Oct. 18, 1918, WMA, file 141, p. 6. 54. Ibid.; Azbuka report, Kiev, Sept. 7, 1918, WMA, file 141. Gurko provides an interesting account of how members of legislative chambers, all monarchists, were afraid even among themselves to raise the issue of restoration of monarchy in a future Russia: Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 31. 55. Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: Az, Aug. 18, 1918, p. 2, and Sept. 7; “Politicheskoe polozhenie,” Sept. 25, p. 3: “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza” Oct. 18, p. 5. The opposition of the extreme Right was so important because former deputies had close ties with it and the division between them was not always clear. For instance, Bezak was active in both groups, while Prince Kochubei and Count V. A. Bobrinskii participated in those discussions. In the Bobrinskii family a strange evolution occurred: Vladimir—former leader of the Progressive Nationalists and participant in the Progressive Bloc in the Fourth Duma—belonged to the Monarchist Bloc, while his brother Aleksei—a former member of the State Council, where he had

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belonged to the pravye—was active in the parliamentary group. Furthermore, Aleksei is quoted as saying that the extreme Right was more dangerous for Russia than the Left: Az, Azbuka report, Kiev, (n. d.), WMA, file 141, p. 3. 56. The remaining members were: M. A. Iskritskii, and N. P. Shubinski, two former Octobrists. V. I. Gurko, also elected to the Bureau, refused to enter it and then he was replaced by Miliukov. “Kratkiie svedeniia o deiatel’nosti ‘Soveta Gosudarstvennago Ob”edineniia,’” Azbuka report, April 1919, WMA, file 129, pp. 3–4; Az, Azbuka report, Kiev, Sept. 20, 1918, WMA, file 141, pp. 3–4. On Oct. 16 (3) the Bureau was enlarged by three new members: Bezak, Gurko and Kryzhanovskii. “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Oct. 18, 1918, WMA, file 141, p. 5; Denikin, Ocherki, IV, p. 184. 57. Cf. Rosenberg, Liberals, 134 and chapter III, note no. 28. 58. Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 184–86; Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Oct. 18, 1918 (O. S.), p. 5, and “Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 1 (N. S.), p. 13; Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 33–34. 59. Miliukov was a great proponent of this line of reasoning: Az, Azbuka report, Kiev, Oct. 11, 1918, WMA, file 141, p. 4. See also Az, “Otdel’noe soobshchenie dla Vedi,” Kievskaia Azbuka, Kiev, Oct. 4 (Sept. 21), WMA, file 136 Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 184. 60. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 13–15. See also Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 185n. 61. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 14–15; M. Braikevich, “Iz revoliutsii nam chtonibud’,” NChS 5 (1924), 221–22. 62. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 16–17; Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 32; Braikevich, “Iz revoliutsii nam chto-nibud’,” 221, and Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 186. According to Margulies, the State Unity Council emerged in the second half of October (God interventsii, I, 27). However, early November appears to be a more accurate date for its inception, since the Council informed Denikin about its existence only on Nov. 12 (Ocherki, IV, 186). It is unlikely that the new organization would have waited almost a month to deliver this news to him. Furthermore, Azbuka reports do not mention it until early November but inform only of the Council of Members of Legislative Chambers. See also “Kratkiie svedeniia o deiatel’nosti ‘Soveta Gosudarstvennago Ob”edineniia,’” p. 1. 63. Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 184–86; Gurko, ”Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 34–36, 38. According to Gurko, he and Shebeko left Kiev on Nov. 12 (Oct. 30), 1918 and came to Ekaterinodar a few days later. There, they spent ten days (“Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 36, 44). He obviously is wrong, and they must have left earlier because by Nov. 18 (5), they both were in Jassy, see Zhurnal Soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh no. 7, Nov. 18 (5), 1918. 64. Gurko in his account of the visit in Ekaterinodar recalls that Generals A. S Lukomskii and A. M Dragomirov were hostile to the plan of the Kiev Right, in particular to united action of the Volunteer Army, Ukraine and the Don (“Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 38–42). This demonstrates their loyalty to the commander-in-chief, because Denikin mentions Lukomskii as a proponent of the offer (Ocherki, IV, 185), while Gurko—shortly thereafter, at the Jassy Conference—lists both Generals, along with Denikin’s diplomatic representative in the West, S. D. Sazonov, as advocates of

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Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich’s leadership over the White movement: Zhurnal Soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh no. 8, Nov. 20 (7), p. 3. See also Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” Golos minuvshago na chuzhoi storone 3 (1926), 54. 65. Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 185. I follow here Peter Kenez’ translation of its name as the Zemstvo-City Union (Civil War in South Russia, 1918, 206). See chapter VI for more information about the Zemstvo-City Union. 66. Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 39, 42. 67. Ibid., 44–47. 68. “Kratkiie svedeniia o deiatel’nosti ‘Soveta Gosudarstvennago Ob”edineniia,’” p. 5. 69. Azbuka report in WMA, file 129: “Pravyi i Natsional’nyi Tsentry,” (n. d.), pp. 1–2; Kako, “Natsional’nyi Tsentr,” Sept. 1918, p. 1; Fedorov, untitled report on the National Center, p. 1; Denikin, Ocherki, III, 75–76); Vera Vladimirova, God sluzhby, 238–39. On the origin of the National Center and its activity in Moscow see also the previous chapter. 70. Azbuka reports in WMA: Stepanov—the National Center, correspondence, Sept. 10, 1918, file 167, p. 1; “Vedi ot Izhe,” Kiev, Nov. 8, file 136; “Soobshchenie Aza,” Kiev, Nov. 8, file 141, pp. 3–4; untitled report, Dec. 17 (4), file 129, and Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 186. 71. Shul’gin, “Istoricheskaia spravka,” memorandum, Azbuka, Razvedyvatel’nyi otdel, WMA, file 136; Denikin, Ocherki, III, 85. See also, Peter Kenez, Civil War in South Russia, 1919–1920 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977), 65–71. After February 1919 until its closure in December 1919 Azbuka was supported by funds of the Denikin administration. 72. Kenez somehow did not notice connections between Azbuka and the National Center (Civil War in South Russia, 1919–1920 ), 65–71. In addition to plenty of circumstantial evidence, several intelligence reports talk openly about it: V. A. Stepanov to A. I. Savenko, correspondence, Azbuka, Ekaterinodar, Dec. 20 (7), 1918, Razvedyvatel’nyi otdel, WMA, file 136; V. A. Stepanov to V. V. Shul’gin, transcript of telephone conversation, Azbuka, Jan 9, 1919, Razvedyvatel’nyi otdel, WMA, file 136, p. 1; untitled intelligence report, Azbuka, Odessa, Oct. 17, 1919, Razvedyvatel’nyi otdel, WMA, file 151. See also Denikin, Ocherki, III, 85. 73. Cf. Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA 141: “Soobshchenie Az,” Aug. 10, 1918, p. 5; untitled, Sept. 7; “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Oct. 18, p. 6. Shulgin probably hid under the pseudonym, “Vedi.” The writing style of intelligence reports also betrays journalists in Azbuka’s service. The reports often have the character of polemical articles, more appropriate to press disputes than intelligence information. For more information on Shulgin pre-revolutionary activity, see chapter II. 74. Az, Azbuka report, Kiev, Oct. 11, 1918, WMA, file 141, pp. 1–2; Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 186n, V, 22–23. Efimovskii and Levitskii were the leaders of a Kadet faction in the Kievan National Center, not the whole organization, as Rosenberg asserts (Liberals, 349–50). 75. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 22–23. Sometimes the Club of Russian Nationalists was also termed the Club of Progressive Russian Nationalists (Klub progressivnykh

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russkikh natsionalistov) which reflects the name of the party and of the Fourth Duma faction “Progressive Nationalists” to which Shulgin had belonged. 76. Shul’gin, “Istoricheskaia spravka,”; Azbuka reports from Kiev “Soobshchenie Dobro,” Nov. 8, 1918, p. 2; “Soobshchenie Az,” Aug. 10, p. 5; Denikin, Ocherki, III, 85–86 77. “Otdel’noe soobshchenie dlia Vedi,” Azbuka report, Kiev, WMA, file 141, pp. 2–4; “Rezoliutsiia priniata natsional’nym tsentrom,” a leaflet, Kiev, Oct. 30, 1918 in WMA, file 129. See also other Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: “Soobshchenie Az,” Aug. 10, 1918, p. 5; “Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 22 (9), 1918, p. 2, and “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 6. See also Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 187 78. Two printed leaflets in WMA, file 129: “Rezoliutsiia priniata natsional’nym tsentrom,” Kiev, Oct. 30, 1918 and “Ot Komiteta po sozyvu natsional’nago russkago s”ezda Iuzhnoi Rossii,” Kiev (n. d., but late November or early December 1918). See also Azbuka reports from Kiev, in WMA, file 141: Az, Oct. 11, 1918 (N. S.), pp. 1–3; “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Oct. 18, 1918, pp. 1–6; “Otdel’noe soobshchenie dlia Vedi,” pp. 1–3, and “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 6. 79. “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 6; Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 198–99. 80. Azbuka reports from Kiev, in WMA, file 141: “Soobshchenie Vedi ot Aza,” Oct. 18, 1918, p. 5; “Soobshchenie Aza,” Nov. 1, 1918 (N. S.), p. 13, and Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 186, 188, 198. See also two Azbuka reports from Kiev: “Soobshchenie Vserossiiskago Natsional’nogo Tsentra,” Dec. 17 (4), 1918, WMA, file 141, p. 5, and Buki, Jan. 12, 1919 (Dec. 30, 1918), WMA, file 131, p. 1. 81. Azbuka reports from Kiev in WMA, file 141: Az, Oct. 11, 1918 (N. S.), WMA, file 141, pp. 1–2; “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 6; “Soobshchenie Dobro,” Nov. 8, 1918, p. 2; “Rezoliutsiia priniata natsional’nym tsentrom,” and “Ot Komiteta po sozyvu natsional’nago russkago s”ezda Iuzhnoi Rossii.” 82. “Soobshchenie Aza,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Nov. 8, 1918, WMA, file 141. And Azbuka reports in WMA, file 136: Stepanov to Savenko, correspondence, Dec. 20 (7), 1918; “Slovu ot Aza,” Dec. 30; 1918; “Vedi ot Izhe,” Nov. 8, 1918. 83. “Slovu ot Aza,” Dec. 30, 1918. Az (Savenko) had some doubts as to the mental health of Miliukov: Az, Azbuka report, Kiev, Oct. 11, 1918, WMA, file 141, pp. 4–5. For his part, Miliukov labeled Shulgin and Savenko as “representatives of zoological nationalism”: “Otdel’noe soobshchenie dlia Vedi,” Azbuka report, (n. d.), WMA, file 141. 84. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 21. On the list of participants in the Jassy Conference Miliukov appeared as a vice-deputy chairman of the State Unity Council and of the National Center: “Spisok chlenov Iasskoi Delegatsii,” Jassy Conference, WMA, file 143. 85. As Margulies put it (God interventsii, I, 24). 86. On the Jassy Conference, see the next chapter. See also: Robert H. McNeal, “The Conference of Jassy: an Early Fiasco of the Anti-Bolshevik Movement,” in J. S. Curtiss (ed.), Essays in Russian and Soviet History (New York: Columbia U. Press, 1963), 221–36; Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 39–76.

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87. “Nakaz predstaviteliam N. Ts. komandirovannym v Iassy na soveshchanie s predstaviteliami Soiuznykh derzhav,” Ekaterinodar, Nov. 4, 1918, WMA, file 129, pp. 1–4. 88. See chapter V on the Jassy Conference. 89. “Slovu ot Aza,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Dec. 30, 1918, WMA, file 136; “Soobshchenie Aza,” Azbuka report, Kiev, Nov. 29 (16), 1918, WMA, 141, p. 3; “Diiachi Skoropadshchiny,” Ukraina no. 6; Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 196, 198–200, V, 22–23. 90. “Slovu ot Aza,” Dec. 30, 1918; “Ot Komiteta po sozyvu natsional’nago russkago s”ezda Iuzhnoi Rossii.” 91. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 5 (1924), 252–54. Miakotin left Moscow in September 1918. He describes adventures of that trip to Kiev in the second part of his series “Iz nedalekago proshlago” NChS 3 (1923), 179–93. 92. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 5 (1924), 253–54. The Kadets formally left the Union only after they had moved from Kiev to Odessa: P. N. Miliukov to I. I. Petrunkevich, correspondence, Dec. 4 (Nov. 21), 1918, WMA, file 135, p. 2; V. A. Stepanov to the National Center in Moscow, correspondence, Azbuka report, zapiska no. 51, WMA, file 130. 93. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 253. 94. Ibid., 257–61. Miakotin did not elaborate on the question of southern authority. Only at the Jassy Conference did the Union’s representatives put forward a full concept of this authority and present methods of how to achieve it: Zhurnal soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh no. 8, p. 5; no. 9, pp. 3–7; no. 10, pp. 2–3, 5; no. 11, p. 9, and Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 55–59, 64. See also chapter V on the Jassy Conference. 95. “Soobshchenie Vserossiiskago Natsional’nago Tsentra,” Kiev, Dec. 17 (4), 1918, WMA, file 141, pp. 1–2, 5, and “Ob”edinennoe Torzhestvennoe Sobranie Russkikh politicheskikh organizatsii,” June, 4, 1919, Ekaterinodar, WMA, file 129, p. 3. For a general review of White attitudes toward federalism, see Kenez, Civil War in South Russia, 1918, 219–52. 96. Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 188; V, 23. 97. See note no. 80. 98. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 254–55. See also Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 188; Oko, Azbuka report, Kiev, Sept. 4, 1918, WMA, file 141. 99. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 254-55; V. B. Stankevich, Vospominaniia 1914–1919 g. (Berlin: Izdatel'stvo J. P Ladyzhnikova, 1920), 325; Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 188. 100. Stankevich, Vospominaniia, 326. 101. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 255–61. 102. Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 198-200; Stankevich, Vospominaniia, 326–31;. 103. I. P. Demidov, “Doklad o Kieve,” intelligence report, Razvedyvatel'nyi otdel, Sept. 19, 1919, WMA, file 148; “Doklad o Kievskim Tsentre,” intelligence report, Razvedyvatel'nyi otdel, Ekaterinodar, May 1919, WMA, file 149.

Chapter V

Jassy: A Conference of Disunity

Throughout the Kiev period, the three multi party coalitions—the State Unity Council of Russia, the National Center and the Union for the Regeneration of Russia—whose professed aims were the political unification of Russian society and the restoration of a state authority that would lead the struggle against the Bolsheviks, never met together nor seriously attempted to discuss a political compromise involving all three organizations. And it was not to their credit that they finally did gather together in Jassy at the conference with Western ambassadors. While negotiating in Jassy the conditions for foreign aid to Russia, they also tried to work out common political ground among themselves.1 The initiative for the Jassy Conference came from an adventurer, Captain Emile Henno, a mysterious French vice-Consul in Kiev who at the time lived in Jassy, the provisional capital of Romania. He had allegedly been appointed to his post by the French Ambassador to Romania Comte Auguste de SaintAulaire, although the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs denied later that Henno was in its service. Henno displayed strong pro-Russian and antiseparatist sentiments, which were, as Denikin judged, almost Shulgin-like. He led Russian politicians to believe—and they were very eager to trust him—that his pronouncements represented the official French position towards Russia. He thus contributed to the Russian misjudgment of Allied intentions.2 Acting, or pretending to act, on behalf of Ambassador SaintAulaire, Henno sent on October 19 (6), 1918 an invitation to Shulgin to come to Jassy and advise him in the preparing a political program for the Allies in case of their intervention in the South.3 With exaggeration bordering on provocation, Henno intimated that Western intentions toward Russia included the abrogation of the Brest-Litovsk Treaty, support for the principle of one, 101

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indivisible Russian state and for the restoration of the monarchy.4 As result of that invitation, Denikin’s Special Council later appointed Shulgin as its official representative at the conference in Jassy. The original idea of inviting only Shulgin soon ivolved into a much larger venture, perhaps under the influence of a few former Russian officials residing in Jassy. Those were: S. A. Poklevskii-Kozell and A. S. Savinov, the Russian ambassador and consul to Romania, respectively; Colonel N. S. Il’in, the chief of the Russian Red Cross and General D. G. Shcherbachev, the former commander of the Romanian front, who later at the conference represented the Denikin’s Army.5 During their meeting on October 30 (17), in the presence of Henno, they decided to organize the Russian National Council (Russkii Natsional’nyi Sovet) whose purpose was to help in reestablishing contacts between Western Governments and anti-Bolshevik Russia. To achieve that task, the Council invited to Jassy representatives of the leading political forces within the anti-Bolshevik movement for a conference with the Western ambassadors to Romania. Since invitations were issued not only to multiparty organizations but also individually to specific persons, the Council determined to a large degree the crucial question of who would participate in the conference.6 The conference took place between November 16 (3) and 23 (10), 1918 in Jassy and reconvened in Odessa between November 25 (12) and December 6 (November 23). Its core constituted sixteen delegates of whom eleven were listed as representing multiparty organizations and five were noted without party affiliation. Of the first group, six delegates belonged to the State Unity Council, three to the (all-Russian) National Center and four to the Union for the Regeneration of Russia. Two delegates belonged to more than one multiparty organization. Among the core group there were such prominent figures in Russian politics as: I. I. Bunakov-Fundaminskii, M. M. Fedorov, V. I. Gurko, A. V. Krivoshein, M. S. Margulies, Baron V. V. Meller-Zakomel’skii, P. N. Miliukov, N. V. Savich, A. A. Titov and S. N. Tret’iakov. Shulgin, sent by the Special Council of General Denikin, was in Jassy too, but he arrived ill and could not take part in the conference.7 Additionally, there were eleven participants—including the two representatives of the White Army, Generals Shcherbachev and A. N. Grishin-Almazov—who either had an advisory voice, or participated sporadically in the proceedings or joined the conference later, when it moved to Odessa.8 The Allied side was represented by four diplomats, Saint-Aulaire (France), George Barcley (Great Britain), Charles Vopicka (USA) and Giacinto Auritti (Italy) who met twice with the Russian delegates, at the opening and closing of the conference.9 Together, it was an imposing assembly of anti-Bolshevik Russia. At last, the multiparty organi-

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zations had an opportunity not only to talk with Western envoys but also to communicate directly among themselves. The proceedings of the conference show that the Russian statesmen gathered in Jassy occupied themselves with two fundamental tasks. First, in their contacts with Western diplomats, they attempted to negotiate the best military conditions for Allied intervention in the South, and sought to obtain political support for the restoration of one, indivisible Russia. Second, among themselves, they tried to resolve the urgent question of the future all-Russian or South-Russian authority. As far as the first aim was concerned, all organizations made the almost identical assumption that a large-scale Allied intervention in the South was imminent. The foundation for this belief, especially common among the liberal and left wings of Russia’s political elites, was a firm conviction that Russia, as a part of the civilized world, could not be left at the mercy of such barbarians as the Bolsheviks, but would be rescued in the interest of the common good. A speech by Gurko along these lines made a strong impression on Western ambassadors at the closing of the conference.10 Another line of argumentation emphasized the West’s formal obligation to help Russia because of its membership in the anti-German coalition and because of its enormous sacrifices in the World War. It was generally believed that the Allies would have to eradicate the Bolsheviks, viewed as German puppets, just to complete their victory over the Central Powers.11 The participants at the conference succumbed to the delusion that the irresponsible assurances of Henno and the supportive remarks of minor Western diplomats represented official Allied policy toward Russia.12 Consequently, the delegates did not perceive it to be their duty to induce, or even beg, the Entente into military intervention, but rather to negotiate its timing and political conditions. Accordingly, they raised various conditions and demands, as though White Russia were in a bargaining position. Four notes delivered at the conference to the Allies—three approved by the delegates and one passed on from the Special Council of General Denikin— reflected this perception.13 First, they emphasized the urgency of an Allied landing, for Western military units would have to maintain order in the South, and defend it from the Bolsheviks and “Ukrainian chauvinists” until the Volunteer Army grew strong enough to take upon itself these tasks. They also envisioned the quick dispatch of a token force to the Southern ports as well as to the most important towns in the South in order to raise Russians’ spirit and dishearten their enemies. Second, they demanded immediate aid in armaments for the White Army as the only force in the South fighting for all-Russian aims. Third, they asked for assistance in preparing an offensive on Bolshevik territory led by Russian forces. And fourth, they requested that all

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military units, including those of the Allies, be under the sole command of a Russian general.14 Russian guidelines for Allied military intervention in the South pointed to the most fundamental political aim which Russian statesmen set for themselves in their dealings with Western Governments: their recognition of the unity of Russia. In particular, they called for: the rejection of the BrestLitovsk Treaty and the endorsement of the principle of “great, one and indivisible Russia” within its pre-War borders, excluding the Kingdom of Poland; the non-recognition of the new states in Russia which did not adhere to the principle of “great, one and indivisible Russia”; and a single Russian diplomatic representation now and at the post-war Peace Conference.15 Already during the Jassy Conference Russian delegates began to realize that Allied intervention might not come as soon as they wished. Thus, besides sending notes and talking to Western ambassadors, they also tried to contact Allied higher authorities directly and make them aware of the emergency situation in Russia. On November 18, they dispatched two delegates, K. R. Krovopuskov and Colonel I. M. Novikov, to the Allied military command in Constantinople with a call for immediate action.16 Although their reception was friendly, the visit revealed the Allied lack of commitment for a large scale landing in the South. General Louis Franchet d’Esperey, the French commander in the Balkan theater of operations, enquired into the exact nature of their hopes for intervention, and then proceeded to ask numerous logistical questions, clearly showing Allied unpreparedness for intervention. Still, Krovopuskov in his report to the conference was optimistic.17 Before the conference adjourned, the delegates made yet another attempt at contacting the Western Governments, this time directly. For this purpose they elected the so-called “Little Delegation” (malaia delegatsiia) which was sent on December 3 to Paris. Among its member were Gurko and Shebeko, who thereby resumed the old mission assigned to them in early November 1918 by the Council of Members of Legislative Chambers.18 The Little Delegation actually reached Paris and London (January–March 1919) and talked to Western governmental officials. Yet, as these meetings took place in entirely changed circumstances, they had little in common with the delegates’ original purpose.19 As mentioned, the problem of restoration of all-Russian authority was the second central issue addressed in Jassy. The prospect of intervention made its resolution of utmost importance. For, in what appeared to be a decisive moment in its history, Russia could either be a passive object of alien actions, or be united and possess a will to fight its enemies, and to defend its interests vis-à-vis the Western Allies. Convinced of their great responsibility, the Russian participants at the Jassy Conference attached particular importance to ac-

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complishing unity among themselves, or at least appearing unified to the outside world. Their attitudes in relations with the Allies showed that they shared many basic views on the Russian national interest. Consensus in this respect seemingly offered a good chance for cooperation in other areas. Yet, as soon as they began to deliberate on the shape of the future Russian government to be formed in the South, that consensus shifted into an intense dispute. The conference split into two fundamental factions, one supporting an all-Russian dictatorship, further subdivided into protagonists of Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich and of General Denikin, and another favoring a local government in the South led by a three-man directory.20 Let us first focus on the internal divisions within the first faction. Gurko and Savich proposed Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich’s candidacy for the position of dictator. They stressed a great symbolic meaning of a dictatorship and argued that the dictator should be non-controversial and of a high stature, so that no one would question the legitimacy of his authority. They maintained that the Grand Duke was such a person, for he enjoyed uncommon popularity among Christians, landowners, businessmen both large and small, and among ordinary soldiers. He was also the candidate of the overwhelming majority of the State Unity Council, and what was more important, he was supported by Denikin’s closest associates, such as Generals A. S. Lukomskii and A. M. Dragomirov, and by the distinguished diplomat S. D. Sazonov who represented Russia in Paris.21 As for Denikin’s candidacy, Gurko and Savich pointed out that it could provoke a seniority conflict among the generals. For example, Krasnov (Don Army), Keller (Northern Army), N. I. Ivanov (Southern Army), Boldyrev (Ufa Directory), as well as Skoropadskyi, could contest Denikin’s seniority. The dictatorship of the Grand Duke, a member of the tsarist family, was not threatened by such challenges. Finally, it was argued that the future dictator would be preoccupied with foreign affairs, i.e., dealing with the Allies and negotiations at the Peace Conference, and so could not be able to devote his time to military and civil matters. He should therefore have at his side a career officer as a commander-inchief and a civilian as the prime minister. Savich, who made this proposition, clearly aimed at a double compromise: one with Denikin’s protagonists and another with the advocates of a directory. The former could be satisfied with preserving Denikin’s military command, while the latter might accept intermediate authority between a dictatorship and a directory.22 Denikin, in turn, was the choice of the National Center, and partly of the State Unity Council for the role of dictator. His most vocal advocates were Fedorov and Miliukov.23 They stressed that the election of the Grand Duke would mean the pre-determination of the future state order as a monarchy, disregard for the wishes of the Allies who were friendly toward Denikin, and

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the alienation of the masses which awaited a dictator, or “people’s Tsar” (narodnyi Tsar) able to prevent the restoration of the autocracy. Furthermore, they rejected the argument that Denikin’s dictatorship would provoke a seniority conflict. Among the enumerated generals, Ataman Krasnov was the only one who counted, but even he could be replaced as the commander of the Don Army. As for other generals, all except Boldyrev were German puppets. Boldyrev, in turn, in mid-1918 had already accepted the precedence of General Alekseev.24 Thus Denikin, as the successor of Alekseev, enjoyed seniority over Boldyrev. Fedorov and Miliukov also dismissed Savich’s compromise proposal by arguing that the dictator could not be removed from military operations. Finally, they maintained that in the South the Volunteer Army of General Denikin was clearly the leading military force and the natural focus for all patriots fighting for Russia’s regeneration. After the landing of the Allied troops, they believed that the Volunteer Army would rapidly become a large army, able to defeat the Bolsheviks. Thus, as Fedorov and Miliukov concluded, the ultimate reason for Denikin’s dictatorship was that he proved himself to be an excellent commander of the only force capable of leading Russia to victory.25 Although the advocates of dictatorship debated among themselves the question of who would actually make the best dictator, they all agreed in principle—Savich’s concession notwithstanding—that this post was necessary for saving Russia. The minority, supporting the directory as a regional government in the South, was equally adamant about the pertinence of their solution and unequivocally condemned the concept of an all-Russian dictatorship. Since the pro-dictatorial majority belonged to the State Unity Council and the National Center, and their opponents to the Union for Regeneration, the conflict over the nature of Russia’s future authority overlapped with the traditional antagonism between the Right and Left. It also involved different interpretations of past arrangements between the National Center and the Union for Regeneration. Thus, both sides of the conflict argued as much about the future as about the past. Miliukov and Fedorov, the most vocal protagonists of dictatorship, and Bunakov-Fundaminskii and Titov, their pro-directorial counterparts, agreed on the following points relating the compact concluded in Moscow in early summer 1918 between the National Center and the Union for Regeneration: the compact had defined the fundamental principles for the future all-Russian government which was to be formed in the East; it determined the structure of a future government to be a three-man directory consisting of a military commander, one socialist, and one non-socialist, and it objected to any future recognition of the Constituent Assembly dissolved by the Bolsheviks.26 These were, however, the only points on which they agreed.

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Miliukov, Fedorov and others in the in pro-dictatorial camp accused the Union for Regeneration of breaking its Moscow commitment at the Ufa Conference. The National Center, as they maintained, had always preferred dictatorship and acceded to a directory only for the sake of cooperation with the moderate socialists, but under the condition that the Constituent Assembly would not be revived. However, the socialist politicians, taking advantage of their majority at the Ufa Conference, recognized the legitimacy of the Assembly. Moreover, the socialists instead of appointing Alekseev as commander-in-chief, opted for General Boldyrev, and created a left-wing directory consisting of five men. Thus the Ufa Directory was not the authority which the Moscow compact envisioned. Therefore, it could not be regarded as the all-Russian Government but rather as one of many local governments. Furthermore, the spokesmen for the National Center went on, the victory of the Allies and the opening of the Black Sea moved the strategic center of the anti-Bolshevik movement from the East to the South. Because of that, the formation of an all-Russian government in this region was a matter of fundamental national interests. That government should be a dictatorship to thwart strong centrifugal forces and to make the best use of all available resources in combating Bolshevism.27 Presenting their case the Union for Regeneration, Bunakov-Fundaminskii and Titov, stated that it was the Allied diplomats in Moscow who had advocated a triumvirate. Furthermore, they went on, the West had not changed its position and was still in favor of the directory because this form of government provides some guarantees for the preservation of the democratic gains of the Revolution. Western Democracies quite naturally wished Russia to have a political order similar to their own, and would not accept a dictatorship which might lead to the restoration of the Old Regime.28 In Ufa, Bunakov-Fundaminski and Titov continued, the political composition of the State Conference had been different than anticipated. This as well as local conditions in the East had led to some alterations in the Moscow agreement. Thus the Ufa Conference chose the Directory of Five because it had to include representatives of the Siberian Government, and elected Boldyrev as its military leader because he was present at the conference. Although the spokesmen for the Union for Regeneration did not know the precise reasons for the Ufa Conference’s recognition of the Constituent Assembly, they assumed that its endorsement had been somewhat qualified. Ultimately, the two spokesmen emphasized that the Union continued to regard the Ufa Directory as the all-Russian Government. As for authority in the South, they understood the urgent reasons for its establishment. Yet, they insisted that it have the character of a provisional and local government (vremennoe pravitel’stvo iuga Rossii) until the confluence of the Southern and Eastern fronts made

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possible its fusion with the Ufa Directory; it have the form of a three-man (or even five-man) directory, and it be elected by a State Conference (Gosudarstvennoe Soveshchanie). The latter institution, analogous in nature to the Moscow State Conference from the previous year, would include representatives of regional parliaments (such as Don Krug, Kuban Rada), local selfgovernments, and social and political organizations. After the election of a directory and a civilian executive government (delovoi kabinet ministrov) the projected State Conference would dissolve.29 The State Unity Council’s representatives at the Jassy Conference were the most willing to search for a middle ground. Therefore, they were ready to support a civilian government with a multiparty character that would work beside the dictator. As mentioned, they also suggested a modified version of dictatorship (Savich’s proposal). To further accommodate the pro-directorial faction, they agreed to accept the regional nature of this authority until the unification of the Eastern and Southern fronts which, because of Western intervention, was expected to occur soon. Yet, even they refused to recognize the Ufa Directory as the all-Russian Government, accept a three-man directory, and agree on the State Conference in the form envisioned by the Union for Regeneration. In these matters they were in agreement with the representatives of the National Center who forcefully argued against the concept of authority advanced by the Union for Regeneration.30 Even leaving aside the question of the Ufa Directory, the socialists, according to Fedorov, conceived of a fragmented authority for the South: the triumvirs would fight among themselves, civilian government would be an arena of partisan politics, and the State Conference would promote local separatism and usurp the power to control the Directory. Fedorov’s conclusion was that the grave situation in Russia called for Denikin’s dictatorship in which neither “regional” particularism nor party politics would be tolerated. Ministers for a civilian cabinet functioning alongside the dictator, would be selected by Denikin without regard for their party membership but on the basis of merit. As for the State Conference, he envisioned a much smaller body, similar to the Jassy Conference, composed of representatives of party and social organizations. This State Conference was to advise the dictator on political issues.31 The proposition put forward by Bunakov-Fundaminskii and Titov widened the gap between the socialists and the rest of the conference members. In spite of their desire at appearing unanimous before the Allies, the participants at the conference were unable to bridge their differences. Thus the matter was finally put to a vote in which dictatorship won. The actual margin of the vote is unknown, for the journals of the conference discreetly passed over it in silence.32 But to mollify the socialist delegates and to avoid an open conflict

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with the Left in general, the advocates of dictatorship accepted unilaterally the compromise formula proposed by Savich: The Southern Government is a Russian government to which foreign diplomatic missions are accredited. The question of the formation of an all-Russian government is deferred until such time as success in the struggle against the Bolsheviks makes possible regular relations with those forces which are active in the East.33

The question of the dictator’s person was, however, still not resolved. Krivoshein, supported by certain other delegates, urged that this issue be determined not in Jassy but in Kiev. For, as he argued, the conference deliberated in almost complete isolation and did not know what was going on in Russia. Even more, he continued, such important matters should not be decided without consultation with the delegates’ own organizations.34 Although it is not clear whether he conceived of an entirely new body for the election of the dictator, it is quite clear that in Kiev his candidate, Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich, had a much better chance of winning. But conveniently for the pro-Denikin faction, General Shcherbachev, the unofficial representative of the Volunteer Army at the conference, announced that he had just received information from Ukraine that 300 Russian officers from the General Staff and 30,000 ordinary officers wholeheartedly recognized Denikin’s authority.35 Bewildered by this unsubstantiated news, the delegates settled the matter without further delay. In the voting that took place on November 21 (8), Denikin won over the Grand Duke with nine votes against four. Although the journals of the conference and other sources do not precisely identify the votes, we can actually venture to recreate it. In that particular session there were fourteen ordinary delegates and two participants, Poklevskii-Kozell and General Shcherbachev, who it appears, could also cast votes. BunakovFundaminskii, Titov and possibly M. V. Braikevich votes can be discounted because the advocates of the directory did not cast their votes. From the proceedings of the conference, one can almost certainly infer that the distribution of the votes was as follows: the Grand Duke was supported by Gurko, Savich, Krivoshein, and possibly by Meller-Zakomel’skii, while Denikin was supported by Fedorov, Miliukov, Chembers, Margulies, Shcherbachev, and probably by N. A. Khomiakov, A. I. Pil’ts, Tret’iakov and Poklevskii-Kozell.36 After deciding on the nature of authority in the South and passing the previously discussed third (final) note to the Western ambassadors on November 23 (10), the conference came to its natural end. The remaining proceedings of the conference in Odessa concerned less important issues such as sending the Little Delegation to Western Europe, hearing Krovopuskov’s report on his

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trip to Constantinople, and searching for ways to defend Odessa against the Ukrainians. The final question, which deserves examination, was the conduct of each multiparty structure at the conference. Only two weeks before the opening of the conference, the State Unity Council still aspired to become a forum which would unify all political groups from the moderate Right to the moderate Left. It desired to form the all-Russian government and, through unification of all Russian military forces in the South, to lead the struggle against the Bolsheviks. In Jassy, however, the Council was merely one of several organizations that participated in the conference. Its delegation, in spite of its numerical preponderance over each of the remaining delegations, was unable to pass any of its own proposals. The disparity between the Council’s aspirations and its reality was thus astounding. The main reasons for its ill fortune lay beyond the conference itself, and had to do with the Council’s lack of political realism in general and the failure of the Savich-Gurko mission in Ekaterinodar in particular. Yet, several factors at the conference contributed to this situation as well. First, the sheer fact that the members of the State Unity Council found themselves in Jassy among other participants who were either uncommitted or belonged to two other multiparty groups, made them quite naturally represent the rightist segment of civil society instead of its whole. Second, not all participants at the conference were delegated by their organizations: some were selected by the Russian National Council in Jassy. As a result, certain members of the State Unity Council who attended the conference did not necessarily represent the mainstream of the Council but were willing to follow recommendations made by other groups. Third, two members of the Council, Miliukov and Braikevich, also belonged to the National Center and the Union for Regeneration, respectively. As the proceedings of the conference show, their ultimate loyalty did not lay with the Council. Fourth, although to various degrees, both the National Center and the Union for Regeneration claimed Allied support for their propositions and tried to intimidate their opponents with Allied displeasure. Finally, the maneuver successfully carried out by General Shcherbachev about massive support for the leader of the Volunteer Army swayed the least committed members of the Council and made them vote for Denikin. Yet, the Council’s core group—Gurko, Krivoshein, Meller-Zakomel’skii and Savich—tried at least to salvage the essence of the State Unity Council’s program. Although they appeared to fight only for the dictatorship of the Grand Duke, in fact, by opposing Denikin’s candidacy, they also resisted the ceding of all authority to the military. In doing so, they defended civil society’s right to participate in the shaping of Russia’s government and to be a partner in that government. If they won, the Grand Duke would have been a

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quasi-dictator, with Denikin commanding the army and the politicians running the government. Another loser in Jassy was the Union for the Regeneration of Russia. Originally however, the conference offered it several opportunities. The South was not a Union stronghold. Composed mostly of outsiders, shunned by some leftists and scorned by many rightists, the Union was without political influence. Its alleged plans to overthrow Skoropadskyi, just two days before the opening of the Jassy Conference, also shows its imprudence. Yet, in spite of all of these shortcomings, and perhaps in recognition of the strength of the Left in general, the Union was treated as an equal partner in Jassy and, in fact, had a larger delegation than the National Center.37 Moreover, the proceedings show that other groups sincerely tried to accommodate the Union. Therefore, it is very likely that the Union might have prevailed in its insistence on the initially local character of the southern government, upon a triumvirate—but not under the name “directory” (the Savich proposal), on multiparty civilian government, and on some sort of a state conference. A compromise on each of these issues seemed feasible, especially given the Union’s skillful claim that the West supported the concept of divided government. All the Union had to do was to drop its preconditions that the Ufa Directory be recognized as the all-Russian Government and that the south Russian authority be a three-man directory in its pure form. This, however, did not happen, and the Union came out of the conference isolated. It was not only outvoted but also deserted by the Kadets who hitherto had remained within its ranks.38 Furthermore, its obstinacy was completely superfluous, although the Union could not know it at the time. When on November 21 the voting on dictatorship versus directory took place, the Ufa Directory no longer existed because Admiral Kolchak overthrew it on November 18. The National Center was seemingly the only winner at the conference. Although it had only three official representatives in Jassy (including Miliukov), it achieved everything it wanted. Its victory was, however, not as great as it seemed. For the Center was able to dominate the conference not because of its own strength and the quality of its arguments, but because of the true power behind it, the Volunteer Army and its Commander, Denikin. Being closely connected with the distinguished Kadets who served in Denikin’s administration, the National Center followed their policies. This meant that they supported Ekaterinodar’s claim to exclusive leadership in the struggle for Russia’s liberation, and denounced all who contested that claim as unpatriotic and as serving either class, party or regional interests. That view gained approval in Jassy but its success was not complete and it was purchased at a heavy price. First, endorsement of Denikin’s dictatorship by a simple majority was a dubious victory. The Jassy Conference was not a parliament and its

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decisions had only a symbolic meaning, not a legally binding power. As such, the vote required unanimity, for those who did not vote for Denikin—and the parties which they represented—could still contest his authority. Second, to achieve its aims, the National Center resorted to manipulation. False claims of support for Denikin’s dictatorship by the Western Powers and by Russian officers in the South could not stand for long and led to future disputes. Third, by promoting a military authority above civilian control, the National Center betrayed in Jassy the principle hitherto common to all multiparty organizations, namely, that the society had the right to form the legitimate all-Russian government. Such conduct might have strengthened the special position liberals enjoyed in Ekaterinodar, but it also made them totally dependent on Denikin’s wishes. Consequently, the true winner at the conference was not the National Center but Denikin who could now rightfully treat politicians not as partners but as mere executors of his will. Robert McNeal subtitled his article on the Jassy Conference: “An Early Fiasco of the anti-Bolshevik Movement.” He referred to the failure of the Russian politicians in Jassy to comprehend the true intentions of the Allies toward Russia. Deliberating under the false assumption that Western military intervention in the South was impending, they refrained from exerting pressure on the Allies, regardless of how much that pressure might have changed. They also overestimated the relevance of their own conference, not knowing or not wanting to acknowledge that the Western Governments more or less ignored it. There was yet another fiasco at the conference, perhaps far greater: the unwillingness of the participants to search for compromises and their readiness to sacrifice the common good for particular, party interests. This fiasco becomes even more striking when one realizes that the conference had gathered the most distinguished Russian statesmen and that these men deliberated with the understanding that the outcome of the struggle against the Bolsheviks depended on their decisions. The crucial question for that struggle—the nature of authority in Russia, further divided the political elites, instead of unifying it. The Left refused to budge on its dogma that the Ufa Directory was the allRussian Government and that authority in the South would be a local directory. The liberals in the National Center wholeheartedly supported a military authority, thereby selling out the interests of civil society as a whole. Finally, the Right was too weak to push through any of its compromise propositions. Unanimity in foreign affairs was also less of a success than it appeared to be. Consensus in this area, was built mostly upon a Great Russian nationalism which expressed itself in hostility against the nationalities striving for independence, and aimed at the preservation of the Russian Empire and its international position. To achieve that consensus, the delegates did not have to make hard choices; on the contrary, all they had to do was to cherish illusions.

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They simply compiled a list of wishes and presented them to the Western ambassadors believing that their realization would automatically follow.

NOTES 1. For a thorough review of the Conference, see Robert H. McNeal, “The Conference of Jassy,” 221–36; Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 83–93. In Russian, there is a detailed description by N. I. Astrov: “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 39–76. This account is particularly valuable as Astrov, simply records its proceedings and does not attempt to present his view on it. See also V. I. Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 45–52, and M. S. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 27–43. 2. McNeal, “The Conference of Jassy,” 222; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 5. See chapter VI, note no. 11. 3. Zhurnal osobago Soveshchaniia no. 7, Oct. 19, 1918, Wrangel Private Archives, file 1, p. 17; Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 43. The text of the invitation letter from Henno already betrays his strong pro-Russian sympathy and bias against separatism movement: Henno to V. V. Shul’gin, correspondence, Azbuka report, Oct. 19 (6), 1918, WMA, files 129 and 141. 4. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 5–6. 5. Among those officials there was also an officer of Shcherbachev’s staff General Novitskii. Colonel Il’in claimed that, in fact, it was he who had proposed a larger gathering of Russian politicians in Jassy: Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 43. 6. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 27–28; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NCS 5 (1924), 255–56; Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 43. As it seems, even some representatives of the multiparty organizations were invited personally rather than elected by their colleagues. 7. The following list of major participants in the Jassy Conference is based on “Spisok chlenov Iasskoi Delegatsii,” and Zhurnal Soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, in WMA, file 143, as well as Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 42–43, and Margulies, God interventsii, I, 27–28. The State Unity Council (SUC): (1) M. V. Braikevich, also representing the Union for Regeneration; (2) V. I. Gurko; (3) A. B. Krivoshein; (4) M. S. Margulies; (5) V. V. Meller-Zakomel’skii, and (6) P. N. Miliukov, also representing the National Center. The all-Russian National Center, which simply figured as the National Center (NC): (7) A. Ia. Chembers; (8) M. M. Fedorov, and (6) Miliukov, also representing SUC. The Union for Regeneration (UR): (1) Braikevich, also representing the SUC; (9) I. I. Bunakov-Fundaminskii; (10) K. R. Krovopuskov; (11) A. A. Titov. Listed officially without party affiliation: (12) N. A. Khomiakov; (13) Colonel I. M. Novikov; (14) A. I. Pil’ts; (15) N. V. Savich, in fact in SUC, and (16) S. N. Tret’iakov, in fact in SUC. Two delegates, Krovopuskov and Novikov left for Constantinople on Nov. 18, therefore missed most of Conference’s sessions. 8. Ibid. (1) General D. G. Shcherbachev, admitted on Nov. 18 (5) as an unofficial representative of the Volunteer Army. (2) V. V. Rudnev, not mentioned in official documents, seemed to be only an observer. The Conference also had several participants

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with a consultative voice: (3) V. I. Demchenko, his SUC affiliation not mentioned; (4) B. E. Miliutin, the secretary of the Conference, probably in SUC; (5) N. N. Shebeko, his SUC affiliation not mentioned; (6) V. P. Riabushinskii, and (7) N. F. Von Ditmar, vice chairman of Protofis, his SUC membership not mentioned. The remaining four persons, not listed in the “Spisok chlenov” are: (8) Colonel N. S. Il’in, admitted to the Council on Nov. 20(7); (9) Count P. M. Tolstoi, a member in UR, admitted on Dec. 5; (10) General A. N. Grishin- Almazov, arrived on Nov. 30, arepresentative of the Volunteer Army, and (11) Shulgin, a member of NC, delegated by the Special Council but not participating in the Conference because of illness. McNeal wrongly mentions Miliutin and Shebeko as members of the Conference. According to Zhurnaly the former was a secretary making notes of the proceedings while the latter had only a consultative vote (“The Conference of Jassy,” 224n, 229n). 9. “Protokol soveshchaniia russkoi delegatsii v Iassakh s soiuznymi poslannikami,” Nov. 17 (4) and Nov. 23 (10), 1918, WMA, file 143. 10. “Protokol soveshchaniia russkoi delegatsii v Iassakh s soiuznymi poslannikami,” Nov. 23 (10), 1918, WMA, file 143, p. 2. Cf. E. N. Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” ARR, XVIII (1926), 154. 11. “Nakaz predstaviteliam N. Ts. komandirovannym v Iassy na soveshchanie s predstaviteliami Soiuznykh derzhav,” Ekaterinodar, Nov. 4, 1918, and untitled Azbuka report, Kiev, Nov. 4, 1918, both in WMA, file 129. “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” Azbuka report, (n. d.), WMA, file 143, p. 5. These arguments, often supported by geopolitical and economic reasons, can be found in many documents not necessarily relating to the Jassy Conference. See also Zhurnal Soveshchanii, no. 14, Nov. 22 (9), 1918, and “Protokol soveshchaniia russkoi delegatsii.” Nov. 23 (10), 1918. 12. Before his failed trip to Kiev, Henno went so far as to ask Russian delegates for political instructions, which were then given to him, see chapter VI, note no. 12. See also “Deklaratsiia Soiuznikov,” and Zhurnal Soveshchani, no. 17, Nov. 26 (13), 1918, WMA, file 143. 13. All notes are in WMA, file 143: “Pervoe Obrashchenie,” Nov. 17 (4), 1918, and two untitled documents which can be verified as the second and third (or final) notes—dated respectively, Nov. 19 (6) and Nov. 22 (9)—cf. Denikin’s, Ocherki, V, 7, and Astrov’s, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 49–50, 68–69. The note of the Special Council (the fourth note) in: A. A. Neratov, “Obrashchenie Dobrovol’cheskoi Armii k Soiuznikam,” Azbuka report, Oct. 27 (14), 1918, in WMA, file 136 and 143. 14. Unity of military command in the South, postulated in the third note, tacitly assumed Russian control over the intervention army. Cf. Zhurnal Soveshchanii, no. 7, Nov. 18 (5), 1918, p. 5; no. 8, Nov. 20 (7), p. 1, and Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 68. See also Margulies, God interventsii, I, 29. 15. In this order they were mentioned by Miliukov during his speech to Allied ambassadors in Jassy: “Protokol soveshchaniia russkoi delegatsii v Iassakh s soiuznymi poslannikami,” p. 3; the same speech quoted also by Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 45–46. See also all four notes quoted previously. 16. Zhurnal Soveshchanii, no. 7, Nov. 18 (5), 1918. The two delegates were accompanied by General Galievskii, who did not participate in the Jassy Conference.

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17. Zhurnal Soveshchani, no. 20, Nov. 29 (16), 1918; Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 71. 18. Zhurnal Soveshchani, no. 12, Nov. 22 (9), 1918, and no. 15, Nov. 23 (10). The remaining members of the delegation were: Krovopuskov, Miliukov, Titov and Tret’iakov: Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 72. For the controversy about the membership of the Little Delegation see, McNeal, “The Conference of Jassy,” 233. 19. For accounts of the delegation written by its members, see Gurko, “Iz Petrograda cherez Moskvu,” 54–74; A. A. Titov, “Doklad,” Azbuka report, (n. d., but March, 1919), WMA, file 167. 20. The question of Russian authority was discussed during four sessions of the Conference. All evidence, in Zhurnal Soveshchani, no. 8–9, Nov. 20 (7), and no. 10–11, Nov. 21 (8), and Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 53–65. 21. This particular argument was raised by Gurko: Zhurnal Soveshchanii, no. 8, Nov. 20 (7), p. 3. See also Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 54. 22. All arguments favoring the Grand Duke’s candidacy in: Zhurnal Soveshchanii, no. 8, Nov. 20 (7), 1918, pp. 1–3; no. 9, Nov. 20 (7), pp. 5, 10–11; no. 10, Nov. 21 (8), pp. 1–3, and no. 11, Nov. 21 (8), pp. 3–8, and Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 53–54, 56–67, 62. 23. Miliukov, as a vice-chairman in both organizations, represented formally the State Unity Council and the National Center at the Conference. However, unlike most delegates of the former group who searched for a middle ground, he adopted the uncompromising views of Fedorov, the chairman of the latter group. Thus, William Rosenberg is not right in placing Miliukov at the head of the State Unity Council’s delegation to Jassy, especially in that Meller-Zakomel’skii, the chairman of this organization, was present at the Conference (Liberals, 352). 24. During negotiations in Moscow about the all-Russian government conducted in mid-1918 between the National Center and the Union for Regeneration. See chapter III on the Moscow period. 25. Zhurnal soveshchanii, no. 8, pp. 2–3, 6; no. 9, pp. 2, 6–11, 14; no. 10, pp. 3–6; no. 11, pp. 1–5, 7. Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 53–54, 55. 26. Zhurnal soveshchanii, no. 9; Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 56–58. Cf. chapter III. 27. Zhurnal soveshchanii, no. 8, pp. 2–3, 6; no. 9, pp. 2, 6–11, 14; no. 10, pp. 3–6; no. 11, pp. 1–5, 7, and Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 53–7, 59–60, 62, 64. 28. Zhurnal soveshchanii, no. 9, pp. 3–7; no. 10, pp. 2–3, 5, and Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 57–59. 29. Zhurnal soveshchanii, no. 8, p. 5; no. 9, pp. 3–7; no. 10, pp. 2–3, 5; no. 11, p. 9, and Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 55–59, 64. 30. Zhurnal Soveshchanii, no. 9. p. 10–11; no. 11, pp. 1–2, 6–8; Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 53, 62–63. 31. Zhurnal Soveshchanii, no. 9. p. 9; no. 10, p. 1; no. 11, pp. 3–6; Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 62. 32. Zhurnal Soveshchanii, no. 11, p. 10. 33. Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 64–65.

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34. Ibid., 65; Zhurnal Soveshchanii, no. 10, p. 3. 35. Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 65. As future events showed Shcherbachev’s information was a pure fabrication. 36. Zhurnal Soveshchanii, no. 11, p. 10; Astrov, “Iasskoe soveshchanie,” 65; see also Margulies, God interventsii, 35 and 138. 37. Among the core sixteen-group, fourth and three, respectively. See note no. 7. 38. According to Miliukov, Stepanov left the Union for Regeneration by early December, 1918. At the same time Astrov, who like Stepanov belonged to the group of founders of the Union, was calling on other Kadets to do the same: P. N. Miliukov to I. I. Petrunkevich, correspondence, Azbuka report, Dec. 4 (Nov. 21), 1918, WMA, file 135, p. 2. Astrov himself formally ended his membership in the Union only in late January, 1919: Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NCS 6 (1924), 77, 85.

Chapter VI

Odessa: The Great Disillusion

As early as the spring of 1918, Odessa had become a city of refuge for a growing number of escapees from Soviet Russia. This great commercial center of more than a half-million inhabitants possessed a better infrastructure than other cities of the South for absorbing thousands of newcomers. Still, the constant influx of new escapees quickly made the living conditions in the city increasingly difficult. Finding accommodations in Odessa, particularly for the less well-to-do arrivals, gradually became impossible. The fall of the Hetmanate in December 1918 brought yet another wave of Russian refugees— only this time fleeing the Ukrainian armies of Ataman Petliura—to a city already filled to the brim. Among the thousands of new arrivals were Russian political elites which had additional reason to look for refuge in Odessa. They expected that shortly, great masses of Allied soldiers would land on the shores of the Black Sea and help Russia in the war against the Bolsheviks and in restoring order. The task of the Russian elites was to form a state authority that would prosecute the war, as well as guard the interests of Russia vis-à-vis the Allies. The importance of this task, along with the great hopes linked to military intervention caused “All Kiev” to hurry to Odessa, just as previously “All Moscow” had gone to Kiev, and even earlier “All Petrograd” had gone to Moscow—to paraphrase the words of a participant in these events, Prince E. N. Trubetskoi. Odessa thus became the third stage of emigration for Russian society’s political leaders, as well as the next center for their activity. What did the Russian political elites in Odessa do during the period of the unsuccessful French intervention in the South? As in Moscow and Kiev, these elites were basically organized in multiparty organizations and aimed at the establishment of Russian authority through society’s political forces. It was 117

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initially believed that French military intervention would create opportune conditions for achieving these goals. But the reality of the intervention was that these ambitious plans were gradually degraded to attempts to establish any sort of power that could ensure effective administration in a small French zone around Odessa. In order to show the external circumstances over which Russian politicians had little influence, a brief sketch of the history of the French intervention in the South is provided. In particular, it focuses on the instability of French policy toward Russia, and on the relations of the headquarters of the intervening armies with the Ukrainian Directory and with Denikin’s authority in Ekaterinodar.

FRENCH INTERVENTION IN THE SOUTH While Russian politicians linked gigantic hopes to the expected intervention of the Western Allies in the South, perceiving it as an event of historic dimension, the Western powers seemed not to accord this matter much importance.2 In the fall of 1918, Great Britain did not even consider the possibility of participating in an armed intervention in this region and was willing only to provide material support for the White movement.3 The United States was so far from the idea of getting involved in the Civil War in the South that one Russian politician observed sarcastically that America was ready to intervene in only one circumstance: if the pre-Revolutionary regime were to be victorious in Russia.4 As for the French government, although, it sent significant military forces to the South, it did not seem to know how far to engage itself in Russian affairs and what exactly it wanted to accomplish. The amazing inconsistencies in French policy toward Russia between the fall of 1918 and the spring of 1919 resulted from basic errors and miscalculations of George Clemençeau’s Government. The French decided on military intervention without carrying out a detailed analysis of the risks of the operation, without considering its objectives, and without determining if the action, once begun, could be brought to a conclusion. The war against Bolshevism had been undertaken almost instinctively, as a natural extension of the war against Germany. The Bolshevik government was viewed as a German puppet, which, through the signing of the separate peace in Brest-Litovsk, removed Russia from the camp of the Western Allies and thereby almost brought about their defeat in the War. This government, abominable for its conduct in Russia, threatened the peace in Europe through its calls for social revolution. Furthermore, the French raison d’état called for the overthrow of the Soviet regime in order to eliminate the political influence of the Germans in the East, and also to protect French economic interests threatened by the

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Soviets’ repudiation of foreign debt and by their confiscation of property.5 Russian appeals for help also impressed French authorities. Of special importance in this regard were four notes sent by representatives of the Russian political elites gathered at the Jassy Conference. These notes underlined the necessity of intervening in the South as a way of making it possible for Russian anti-Bolshevik forces to organize a powerful army.6 The decision to send an army to the South was made almost on the spur of the moment. Originally, it had seemed that intervention in the Civil War in Russia did not require the organization of new armies and their transportation from France to Ukraine, for which the government would have had to obtain the support of a parliamentary majority as well as public opinion. It merely called for the use of the Armée d’Orient, a multinational Allied force which stationed in the Balkans under the command of General Louis Franchet d’Espérey. After an armistice with Bulgaria (mid-September) and Turkey (late October), Romania’s reentry into the War on the side of the Allies (early November), and finally, after the sudden military collapse of the Central Powers, that Army of three hundred and fifty thousand men was left idle. It could be moved to Ukraine, either by land or sea. Consequently, several directives and orders from Premier Clemençeau issued in October and November were sufficient for beginning the intervention, even though General Franchet d’Espérey had warned him against such a move on account of the low moral of the soldiers. According to the initial plan prepared by the French General Staff, several divisions were to be transported by sea from Salonika to Odessa where they were to take over the territories in the South yielded by the Germans. General Henri Berthelot, the commander of the French armies in Romania and a strong proponent of the intervention was put in charge of the operation. General Franchet d’Espérey retained overall command in the area.7 Problems with the intervention began even before the operation started. In November, the French General Staff cut the number of divisions to be sent to the South, first from eighteen to twelve and shortly thereafter to six. 8 An intervention on such a reduced scale meant that the seizure of Ukraine could no longer be part of the calculations. But before news of these cuts could reach Bucharest, where General Berthelot was staying, he had showed an earlier version of the intervention plans to General Shcherbachev, the representative of the Volunteer Army to the Allied Command. On November 16 (3), 1918, Shcherbachev sent a report to Denikin describing the plans. Further, he presented them not as tentative plans but as the official policy which France was obligated to follow. According to Shcherbachev’s report, Berthelot promised, in the name of the French Government, the swift dispatch of twelve French and Greek divisions which would first occupy Odessa and Sevastopol, then Kiev, Kharkov, and even the Don basin. The Volunteer Army was to expect

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military supplies from the former Romanian front and financial support from the Allies. The report implicitly suggested full French support for “one, great, and united Russia” and eased Russian anxieties about France’s stance toward the separatist states in the South. Shcherbachev himself was to participate in all decision making at the Allied Command in the South, which made Russia not just the object of military intervention but also a partner.9 Other events also seemed to confirm Russia’s hopes for Allied help. Small squadrons of Allied warships appeared on the Black Sea. In Sevastopol, the process of taking over the Russian fleet from the Germans was beginning. On November 23, England’s official representative, General Frederick Poole, arrived in Novorossiisk. Several days later, he appeared in Ekaterinodar in the company of a French officer Lieutenant Erlich, whom the command of the Volunteer Army treated as a diplomatic mission of France. In the course of a banquet, the guests drank toasts assuring the White leadership of the support of their countries for a unified Russia and toasted Denikin as the commanderin-chief of the future anti-Bolshevik front in the South.10 Denikin accepted these assurances at face value, somehow not taking into consideration the curiously subordinate rank of the French officer. The promised arrival of the Allied armies was delayed. In the rapidly changing political circumstances of the South, this had a profound effect on the future of the intervention. This was because, before the first units of the French armies appeared in Odessa, the regime of Hetman Skoropadskyi fell in Kiev on December 14 and the Ukrainian Directory took power. In Odessa itself, Ukrainian insurgents took control on December 11, when General Biskupskii, the military commander nominated by the Hetman, surrendered the city to the besieging army of Ataman Petliura. Given these developments, the Allied armies landing in Odessa were unexpectedly faced with the question of their relationship to the new Ukrainian authorities. Naturally, this problem could not be solved by the military, but required a decision by the politicians in Paris. But the instructions from the government had scarcely arrived before they showed themselves inadequate to the situation. During this period, the French vice-Consul Captain Emile Henno was representing the Allies in the South. Formally, he was working on the basis of plenipotentiary powers of doubtful worth, extracted from the Western envoys to Romania during the Jassy Conference. In fact, because of communication difficulties, he acted entirely on his own authority, with no instructions from Paris.11 This was an entirely inappropriate role for such a junior diplomat; all the more so because Henno had a tendency to present his own views as the official position of his government. By this sort of action, he only increased confusion about French goals in the South. Furthermore, Henno strongly supported the restoration of an all-Russian state, accepting entirely the point of

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view of the Russian politicians who were hostile to separatism. He even went as far as to accept instructions written for him by the Russian delegates at the Jassy Conference and agreed to act on them. Those instructions ordered him to support the principle of Russia’s territorial integrity and to oppose the Ukrainian struggle for independence.12 Subsequently, Henno was meant to go to Kiev, but the popular uprising against the Hetmanate prevented him from reaching Ukraine’s capital and so he settled in Odessa. From there he began to send appeals proclaiming the rebirth of Russia as a great power, calling on the people of the South to maintain order until the arrival of the Allied armies, and threatening retribution to anyone who would disturb the peace. In his over-eagerness, he moved to a declaration of direct support for the regime of the Hetman, apparently considering it less injurious to Russian interests than a government of Ukrainian nationalists. By this last action, as Anna Procyk notices, he unintentionally struck a blow to the idea of a “great, one and indivisible Russia,” causing certain Russian politicians to observe that Henno “does not understand the situation in the South.”13 Although Odessa was taken by the army of Petliura, a small area of the port remained outside of his control. The Ukrainians did not dare attack it because Henno, who was staying there, declared it to be a “neutral zone” protected by the Allies, and threatened severe punishments if it were disturbed. Many Russian politicians and senior officers took refuge in this extraterritorial area while about 1500 White officer-volunteers, who had fled there in fear before Petliura’s units, were now located on ships.14 The neutral zone lasted for several days, until December 17 when the first landing party of the Allied armies arrived, in the form of one French-Moroccan division under the command of General Albert Borius. Because the Ukrainians did not want to surrender the city, General Grishin-Almazov, a former delegate of the Volunteer Army to the Jassy Conference, persuaded the White volunteers to disembark from their ships and to engage the armies of Petliura in battle. With the help of French artillery, the Russians drove the Ukrainians from Odessa after a daylong fight. Russian sources later emphasized with pride that the city was recaptured without the direct participation of any French soldiers, therefore, the Russians were able to appear in Odessa as hosts.15 Reportedly General Borius’ only political instruction was “to make common cause with patriotic Russians.” On the advice of Henno, he named Grishin-Almazov the military governor of Odessa and, to the satisfaction of the Russians, did not interfere in the governing of the city. Furthermore, conscious of his ignorance in local affairs, he left Henno completely in charge of representing the Allies. As for Henno, he was in no doubt about the proRussian course of French policy.16 Still, certain things began to disturb the Russians. Borius did not move from Odessa and forbade Grishin-Almazov

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from attacking Petliura’s armies. The Ukrainians were poised on the very borders of the city, cutting it off from its natural source of provisions. Thus, problems with supply and the high cost of living, already severe in Odessa because of the influx of refugees from Soviet Russia, suddenly deteriorated. To make matters worse, Odessa experienced a severe shortage of fuel, especially painful in the winter time. Likewise, in light of the great hopes that the Russians had placed in the intervention, the passivity of the intervening armies evoked at first surprise, then increasingly anger and contempt.17 The inhabitants of Odessa observed with amazement the low morale in the Allied armies, evident from the very moment of their arrival. The soldiers were undisciplined and did not exhibit any eagerness for battle. Moreover, the soldiers as well as some officers compared the French and Russian Revolutions, leaving no doubt that their sympathies were with the Bolsheviks.18 As usual, this was interpreted as Bolshevik agitation, which undoubtedly was to be found in Odessa. However, enemy propaganda was not the real reason for the disintegration of the intervening armies’ morale. Even before the beginning of the invasion, the French General Staff had warned that “it would be difficult, if not impossible, once the magic word of peace had been pronounced, to resume military operations.”19 After four years of war, soldiers and officers alike simply did not want to die for Russia. Consciousness of the low morale of the army, as well as growing resistance in France to the intervention in Russia forced Clemençeau’s Government to reduce anew the scale of the intervention. By the end of December it become evident that the French had neither the intention nor the strength to actively engage the Bolsheviks in battle. Instead they were planning to establish a “defensive front” in the South, while the entire weight of the offensive was to fall on the shoulders of the anti-Bolsheviks.20 This new policy became evident when, in mid-January 1919, General Borius was replaced in Odessa by General Philippe Henri d’Anselme. Like Borius, d’Anselme had absolutely no knowledge of Russia or the complicated political and national problems of the South. Moreover, he had no inclination to concern himself with these matters. He left all political questions in the care of his chief of staff, Colonel Henri Freydenberg, whose knowledge of the region was not much better. Although General Berthelot and Franchet d’Espérey sporadically visited Odessa (the former twice, the latter once) to make especially important decisions, it was Freydenberg who, until the end of the intervention, took charge of French policy. This situation well illustrates the French Government’s level of interest in the Russian Civil War. In place of an irresponsible adventurer, Captain Henno, there appeared a total ignoramus, Colonel Freydenberg, who, as the chief executor of French policy, largely acted without any political guidance or supervision from Paris.21 The

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absence of French diplomatic and political representation in the South shocked Russian politicians. Freydenberg soon became a bête noire for the Russians, as they tended to blame him more than Paris for the situation. From the pronouncements of d’Anselme and Freydenberg, it can be inferred that the French pursued the following principles: support for all elements of order in the South, regardless of their position toward the unity of Russia; consolidation of all forces in the struggle against Bolshevism; avoidance at all costs of the spilling of French blood of French; and finally, treatment of the future political order and borders of Russia as its own internal affair rather than a French concern.22 An outward expression of this policy was the beginning of talks with representatives of the Ukrainian Directory, initiated as soon as the new command arrived in Odessa (January 15, 1919). Thanks to these negotiations, the French were able first to lift the blockade of the city and then, before the end of January, to occupy terrain within a radius of some forty to eighty miles (sixty to a hundred and thirty kilometers) from Odessa bounded by the cities of Tiraspol’, Berezovka, Nikolaev, and Kherson.23 In this way, the French resolved a deep crisis of provisions in Odessa and, at the same time, they considerably expanded the zone of occupation without firing a shot. The success of the initial talks with the Ukrainians led to further negotiations. Freydenberg, who was in charge of these negotiations, demanded from Ukraine changes in the personal composition of the Directory, an agreement to federate with Russia, and the placing of its army under French command. These concessions, in Freydenberg’s view, would prepare the ground for a compromise between anti-Bolshevik Russia and Ukraine and their joint battle with the Soviet regime. Considering their dependence on French aid, both military and diplomatic, the Ukrainians were in no position to reject these impositions. The military threat from the Bolsheviks, as well as the diplomatic advantages that the White Russians enjoyed at the Paris Peace Conference, were too grave for the Ukrainians to ignore the wishes of the French Command. Thus, as the French requested, the most leftist members of the Ukrainian Directory resigned in early February.24 Ukraine was also willing to enter into federation with Russia, but wanted to achieve it “from below,” through prior agreements with the states that had emerged in the south-west of the former Russian Empire. In fact it signed a note to that effect together with representatives of Belarus, the Kuban and the Don. Finally, the Ukrainians also agreed to place their armies under a joint French-Ukrainian-Russian command.25 Freydenberg was already conscious of the intransigent position of the Russians toward Ukraine, and consequently did not even try to talk with them on the subject of political compromise. Instead, he tried to secure RussianUkrainian cooperation indirectly, through military cooperation. Toward this

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end, he proposed the creation of the so-called “mixed brigades.” These brigades were to be recruited from local peasant-volunteers, were to have Russian officers, use French uniforms, and have French military instructors. Since overall command of the Ukrainian armies and the mixed brigades was to be in French hands, these forces would de facto constitute a single army. This solution had another great virtue from the point of view of the French, namely it would put under their command a real offensive force that could replace the demoralized French intervention troops. However, Freydenberg’s plans were thwarted by the decisive opposition of the White Army leadership. In a command of late February, Denikin threatened with court martial anyone who contributed to implementation of these “illegal” orders of the Allies.26 The problem of the mixed brigades was not an isolated instance of disagreement between the Allied Command in Odessa and the White leadership in Ekaterinodar. On the contrary, it was an expression of the deep disillusionment with, and general disapproval of, French policy in the South. For Denikin, the limited scale of the intervention signaled the breaking of French promises. This to him was a cynical betrayal of Russia, a faithful ally in a time of need. Therefore, Denikin flooded Berthelot, Franchet d’Espérey, and even Marshall Ferdinand Foch with telegrams, calling for the fulfillment of French commitments.27 In turn, French contacts with the Ukrainians indicated a betrayal of the principle of a “great, one and indivisible Russia” and the application of “the German policy” towards Russia, i.e., its dismemberment.28 Naturally, Denikin tried to do everything in his power to frustrate these designs. The question of how Russian authority in Odessa and in the zone of occupation was to be organized became another area of controversy between Denikin and the French military command. Originally, the chief antagonists on this issue were the Russian administration in Odessa and the White government in Ekaterinodar. However, the French were increasingly beginning to be a party to the conflict. For, they could not remain indifferent to the administrative paralysis in the Odessa region that stemmed from the centralizing policy of Ekaterinodar. The French were especially angered by the inertia of the Odessa administration with regard to the question of control over the Russian fleet. After taking it from the Germans, the French handed the fleet over to the Russian administration in Odessa. Denikin, in turn, ordered that the fleet be placed under the control of Ekaterinodar. When the French command wanted to use the Russian ships, for instance to transport crude oil from Batumi to Odessa, or to bring in new military units from Salonika, it became evident that delivery of the ships was not possible without agreement from Ekaterinodar. As the port administration explained to the French, the arbitrary disposition of the ships was forbidden by Ekaterinodar under pain of court

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martial. In this context, it was casually hinted that the French were not above reproach because they had made it difficult for the White Army to enter Kherson and Nikolaev.29 Ekaterinodar’s inflexibility in its contacts with the leadership of the intervening armies, its rejection of cooperation and its openly defiant attitude toward the wishes of the French was a significant tactical error. Denikin could have exploited Paris’ apparent lack of interest in the intervention and, through close cooperation with the French military commanders in the South, attempted to pull France into the Civil War as deeply as possible. Instead, he missed no opportunity to remind the French leadership of their unfulfilled obligations to Russia, thereby inflaming mutual relations, and eventually causing a bitter conflict. This conflict precipitated the French seizure of power in the region of the intervention in mid-March, 1919, and indirectly influenced Paris’ decision to end the military intervention and to abandon the South at the beginning of April. This apparent blunder is incomprehensible unless one acknowledges Anna Procyk’s claim that for the Whites “the defeat of Bolshevism was only a means to a higher end,” i.e., “the restoration of Russia’s territorial integrity.”30 From that perspective, Denikin’s inflexibility and haughty treatment of the French look perfectly rational.

THE QUESTION OF AUTHORITY Russian political elites were forced to act in Odessa against the background outlined above. As in Kiev, at the beginning of the Odessa stage they were organized in three multiparty organizations: the State Unity Council, the National Center, and the Union for the Regeneration of Russia. In early December, the leaders of these organizations gathered in Odessa, where they resumed their participation in the conference begun in Jassy. After negotiations with the Western diplomats in Romania, they were full of faith in an early Allied military intervention in the South and in the concomitant defeat of the Bolsheviks. At the Jassy Conference, they had received assurances of help similar to those which General Berthelot had conveyed to Denikin through General Shcherbachev.31 The majority at the Jassy Conference voted in favor of a dictatorship by Denikin which would gradually be transformed into an all-Russian authority. The acknowledgement of this position for Denikin did not, however, alter the obvious fact that there was a need for a south-Russian authority in the area of the intervention. This authority was to act as a host for the Allies and to participate in the campaign against the Soviet regime. Due to its presence alongside the intervening armies, this government would quickly acquire a

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significance considerably exceeding its regional character. Assuming an optimistic scenario of events—an early take-over of the entire South and the subsequent defeat of the Bolsheviks by the Allies—such an authority could gain a stature equal to or even surpassing that of Denikin’s. The task of forming such a South-Russian government naturally rested with the Jassy Conference participants. This was a role for the conference which both, its participants and the French, accepted. Yet, the Jassy Conference had to suspend its activities on December 6, 1918 because the armies of Petliura were rapidly approaching Odessa. Many of the delegates, among them the majority of the Right, fled to the Crimea and remained there for the duration of the Ukrainian occupation of the city (December 11–18).32 Several days after Petliura’s units were driven out, the conference tried to resume its activities, but it found an entirely different situation in the city. After his nomination by General Borius, Grishin-Almazov took power in Odessa as military governor. He, in turn, appointed as his civilian assistant A. I. Pil’ts, former governor of Irkutsk. Then, to their complete surprise, the participants of the Jassy Conferece received for their approval a pre-prepared list of members for the civil government which was supposed to be formed in the region of the French intervention. The true spiritus movens behind all these movements was Shulgin, a member of Denikin’s Special Council, a politician wholly devoted to the creation of a strong military authority for the struggle against the Bolsheviks.33 When the majority of the members of the Jassy Conference escaped to the Crimea, Shulgin sought refuge in the neutral zone. Subsequently, he took advantage of their absence and entirely seized the political initiative. First, he persuaded Henno to recommend General Grishin-Almazov to the French Command for the post of military governor. As a governor, Grishin-Almazov had many advantages: on the one hand, he was energetic and courageous, as he proved in the battles with the Ukrainians for Odessa; on the other hand, he was totally dependent on Shulgin since, as a new arrival from Siberia, he had neither connections nor influence in the South.34 Second, Shulgin prevailed upon Grishin-Almazov to name a rather unknown conservative politician, Pil’ts, as civilian governor, and then to create around him an entire council of ministers. In this manner, there came into existence the so-called Pil’ts Cabinet which included Grishin-Almazov as Minister of War, along with six other, completely unknown figures.35 Shulgin’s goal was clear. He was trying to create an efficient local administration and, at the same time, prevent it from threatening Denikin’s dictatorship. But in order to succeed, Shulgin’s plan needed the support of the other participants from the Jassy Conference (Shulgin, Grishin-Almazov, and Pil’ts were themselves members). Since the Left was promoting the creation of a local directory, Shulgin concentrated on

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winning over the Right, and the way he did this bore all the signs of a theatrical drama. On December 21, the day they returned from the Crimea, the leaders of the State Unity Council learned from Madame Henno about the prepared list of members for the government to be set up by Pil’ts.36 Mme. Henno gave her regrets that at such a critical moment they were not in Odessa. She also complained about the effrontery of the Left, which had done nothing to protect the city from the Ukrainians but was now demanding of General Grishin-Almazov that he share power with it. Prepared in this way by Mme. Henno, the bewildered politicians from the State Unity Council subsequently met viceConsul Henno who appreared with Shulgin and Pil’ts. The vice-Consul began the meeting by delivering a speech which underscored the necessity of immediately establishing Russian local authority. He then stated that the Jassy Conference must bring such an authority into existence because only a government so established in Odessa would be credible to French higher authorities. Certainly none of this was news for his guests. But a moment later Shulgin presented them with a list of candidates for the new government. In response to their reservations about the low prestige of the individuals proposed, Shulgin replied that the government would after all be just a local administration, one of the many in the South. As the Allied armies advanced, he continued, similar governments would be formed in Kiev and Kharkov.37 The politicians of the State Unity Council were pleased neither by the narrowly provincial, low-key profile of the proposed government, nor by the fact that they were completely excluded from its creation. However, they lacked the boldness to reject it completely. Of their three alternatives—to support the Pil’ts government, to form an entirely new government, or to concentrate on creating all-Russian authority right away—they were unable to choose a single one in those critical days. Their interminable discussions led them nowhere.38 Their inability to reach a decision or act meant the virtual acceptance of the fait accompli consisting of “the seizing of power by the completely unknown General Grishin with the blessing of Shulgin.”39 While the leaders of the Right were reconciling themselves to the thought that General Grishin-Almazov was in charge of Odessa, the Left was advancing its own concept of Russian authority. In accordance with their basic canon, the Left argued that the government ought to have a collegial character. Since the French had occupied the Odessa region, the Left thought that Grishin-Almazov should share power with the City Duma and Provincial Zemstvo. On December 22, 1918, they thus proposed the establishment of a triumvirate consisting of Grishin-Almazov, Braikevich, the President of the Odessa Duma, and E. N. Butenko, the Chairman of the Provincial Zemstvo.40 Under the influence of Shulgin, Grishin-Almazov rejected this move, explaining that in the

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midst of civil war a strong one-person authority was necessary.41 The organizations of the Left tried again several days later to obtain approval for their idea of a collegial government, this time going over Grishin-Almazov’s head. Taking advantage of the brief visit of General Lukomskii in Odessa in late December 1918 and early January 1919, they addressed their proposition directly to him. Lukomskii heard them out and promised that General Denikin, who was soon to arrive in Odessa, would himself make the decision. However, Denikin did not arrive and the Left’s proposal remained without a response.42 Still, as Braikevich himself attests, between Grishin-Almazov and the representatives of the self-governments there developed good working relations which lasted throughout the entire period of the French intervention.43 When Shulgin began his great intrigue, aimed at maneuvering the political elites from participation in governing the South, he certainly did not take into consideration the possibility that Ekaterinodar would deliver a blow against his efforts, i.e., the very center of power in Russia in whose interest Shulgin was trying to act. Denikin’s movements in December 1918 and January 1919 accomplished this exactly. Disregarding internal quarrels, the political elites— including those individuals gathered around Shulgin—agreed on the necessity of creating a Russian government in Odessa which would closely cooperate with the French command. Furthermore, they expected Denikin’s presence in Odessa and taking command or, if he could not be present, handing over extraordinary powers to the Odessa government.44 For the good of the nation, Russian politicians in Odessa was even prepared to accept for a time the rule of GrishinAlmazov—Pil’ts as this sort of regional government. Yet, Denikin did not seem to understand the need for such a government. On the contrary, he acted grudgingly toward the Russian administration in the region of the intervention, accusing it from the beginning of separatism, and tried to do everything in his power to deprive it of any real authority.45 This led quickly to the paradoxical situation, in which both Right and Left—neither satisfied with the existing government in Odessa—had to protect it from attacks from Ekaterinodar. The roots of the Ekaterinodar-Odessa conflict reach back to the time when Borius named Grishin-Almazov military governor of Odessa. GrishinAlmazov immediately turned to Denikin for confirmation of his nomination, solemnly promising total loyalty toward the White leadership. Since this signified an extension of his authority to the territory occupied by the French, Denikin confirmed Grishin-Almazov’s appointment, although he did so with a certain reluctance. Denikin evidently did not like having the selection of the Governor-General of Odessa presented to him as a fait accompli. It seems that he also did not trust in Grishin-Almazov’s obedience.46 Hence, the process of limiting of the new governor’s authority began immediately after his confirmation.

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Already on December 25, two “ministers” in the Pil’ts Government were dismissed on orders from Ekaterinodar and two others were appointed in their places. The remaining members of the cabinet expected dismissal at any moment, therefore, they avoided any undertaking.47 Likewise, Lukomskii’s previously mentioned visit had, as its chief goal, the strengthening of Ekaterinodar’s control over Odessa. While the political elites in Odessa were arguing over extraordinary powers for the local government, Lukomskii was insisting on complete centralization of authority in Denikin’s hands. Odessa’s administration, he demanded, was to do nothing without Denikin’s prior approval and its members were to travel to Ekaterinodar once a month for consultation. In the course of Lukomskii’s visit, there also ensued the transmission of control over the fleet to Ekaterinodar, which later became the source of conflict with the French command.48 Denikin’s next step toward subordinating Odessa to White authority in Ekaterinodar was the order issued on January 9, 1919 (Dec. 27, 1918), which de facto annulled Grishin-Almazov’s nomination. In this order, Denikin charged Grishin-Almazov with administrative incompetence and financial extravagance. He also dissolved the Pil’ts Government and decreed that its administrative apparatus be subordinated to the Special Council in Ekaterinodar. Finally, he handed over the governance of Odessa to the City Duma and requested that any public expenditures be coordinated with Ekaterinodar.49 This order aroused intense indignation in Odessa. Telegraph lines connecting Odessa and Ekaterinodar passed through territories controlled by the Bolsheviks and therefore could not be used. For this reason, telegrams had to be sent first to Sevastopol and then re-wired in a few additional places until they could reach their destination. This process took from a few days to several weeks. Thus Denikin’s order meant in practice the complete paralysis of authority in Odessa.50 After a round of interventions, including that of Henno who was still in charge, Denikin partly gave in. In an order on January 14 (1), 1919, he formally restored Grishin-Almazov to power, but retained the restriction on his financial authority, as stipulated in the previous order. Meanwhile, the Pil’ts Government was transformed into a purely consultative organ functioning through the Governor-General.51 After the weakening of the provincial authorities in Odessa, it was the turn of the city self-government, which Denikin dissolved on January 23, 1919.52 This decision again aroused general protests in Odessa. Standing in defense of the predominantly socialist Duma were not just the leftist parties, but Grishin-Almazov, Shulgin, and the conservative State Unity Council as well. All of them believed that its liquidation would only worsen the breakdown of authority in the city. Faced with this unanimous opposition, Denikin reversed his original order a few days later; still, he reasserted his authority over Odessa’s self-government.53

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The crowning achievement in Denikin’s efforts toward complete control over the city was General A. S. Sannikov’s arrival in Odessa at the end of January 1919. Sannikov was Denikin’s personal representative and, at the same time, commander-in-chief of the South-Western region.54 He was supposed to possess extraordinary plenipotentiary powers from Denikin, which were to streamline the administration of the region of French intervention. But as was demonstrated, he had no extraordinary powers, and whatever powers he did have were not the sort for which the Russian politicians had asked. The only decision he made on his own was to recommend that governmental agencies in Odessa take all questions directly to Ekaterinodar.55 In these circumstances, urgent matters remained either unresolved or waited weeks for Ekaterinodar’s decision. For example, it took several weeks for Ekaterinodar to confirm a list of military judges, while Odessa, already suffering from an enormous crime wave, was slipping into anarchy. Likewise, salaries to government and city employees, as well as the transportation of food to Odessa could not be paid without Ekaterinodar’s authorization.56 Despite appearances, Denikin’s issuing and retracting of orders, as well as his sending of a representative without powers, were not signs that he was weak and indecisive. Rather, through these methods, he achieved everything he wanted. First, he asserted his supreme authority over the Russian administration and self-government in Odessa, which by no means had been a foregone conclusion. Second, by removing financial authority from GrishinAlmazov, he made him totally dependent on Ekaterinodar. Third, by transforming the Pil’ts Cabinet into a consultative organ, he cancelled any possibility of its being elevated to a South-Russian government. Fourth, his pseudo-plenipotentiary remained in place so that control over Odessa and its region did not slip out of Denikin’s hand. Although Denikin’s actions made administration in the region of French intervention unusually hard, if not downright impossible, for him this seemed a small price.

THE COUNCIL OF FOUR ORGANIZATIONS Although the political elites were deprived of a direct share of authority in the region of the French intervention, this did not mean they conceded that their mission in Odessa was over. Among other endeavors, special attention should be given to the initiative undertaken jointly by all multiparty groups, aimed anew at reaching common ground and at establishing a south-Russian authority. This initiative was thus clearly related to the efforts initiated in Moscow and continued in Kiev and Jassy. Yet, in contrast to the previous attempts, negotiations conducted in Odessa were the least sincere. Their real

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goal seemed to have been the maintenance of an appearance rather than the accomplishing of a true agreement. For, after the abortive attempt at achieving consensus at Jassy, the Left, Center, and Right were totally discouraged about the possibility of reaching an accord.57 In fact, contacts among the multiparty organizations in Odessa were not broken entirely only as a result of French pressure. As in the spring in Moscow, the French firmly demanded cooperation “between the bourgeois and the socialists,” and made their help for the anti-Bolsheviks contingent on such cooperation. This was the course pursued by Henno in Odessa, as well as by the French higher military command in Bucharest.58 Originally, the forum at which the political elites were to meet was supposed to be the Jassy Conference. It was the Right which above all endeavored to revive this conference after the interruption caused by Petliura’s capture of Odessa. The composition of the conference ensured a clear predominance for the State Unity Council or, from another point of view, for the rightist-liberal bloc—the Council and the National Center—which had promoted the dictatorship of Denikin. However, the Left did not want to accept the numerical majority of the Right. Accordingly, at the first meetings after the hiatus, which were held on December 23 and 25, the Union for Regeneration demanded a change in the composition of the conference. They called for parity between the Right and the liberal Center, on the one side, and the Left on the other, and threatened immediate withdrawal from the conference if its demand was not met.59 It seems, the State Unity Council still did not lose hope that the Jassy Conference would play a principal role in the formation of a government which would replace the administration of Grishin-Almazov. It had therefore no intention of giving up its predominance in this body. Instead, as a compromise, the Council proposed the convening of a special forum where the Left would have an assured parity with the Right and Center. In this way, there came into being a body, sometimes called the Council of Four Organizations (soveshchanie chetyrekh organizatsii). The Council comprised the State Unity Council and the National Center, which were to represent the Right and Center, and the Union for Regeneration and the Zemstvo-City Council of South Russia, which were the multiparty organizations of the Left.60 Of those four organizations, the State Unity Council and the Union for Regeneration maintained their composition and principles basically unchanged from the Kiev period and the Jassy Conference. The remaining two organizations, the National Center and the Zemstvo-City Council of South Russia, require some elaboration. The former because significant changes took place within it; the latter because it was an entirely new member in the exclusive club of multiparty coalition.

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Already during the Kiev period, the all-Russian National Center, had considered itself to be the center of the whole organization, superior to any local branch. With the fall of the Hetmanate, the all-Russian National Center, as the only multiparty group, moved its seat not to Odessa but to Ekaterinodar. And it was there, next to Denikin’s headquarters, where the most important politicians of that organization, almost all Kadets, resided, These included Fedorov (chairman), Astrov, Chelishchev, Cherven-Vodali, Prince P. D. Dolgorukov, Countess Panina, Salazkin, Sokolov, Stepanov and Prince G. N. Trubetskoi. Other distinguished Kadets, such as Professor Novgorotsev and Volkov spent some time in Odessa but they left it for Ekaterinodar in early February 1919.61 Thus, the National Center in Odessa was deemed a mere branch of the allRussian Center and so was termed the Odessa National Center (Odesskoe otdelenie natsional’nago tsentra). The politicians of that group were of a secondary stature—P. P. Iurenev was their leader—and they had to consult with the headquarters in Ekaterinodar on most issues. Occasionally, Fedorov and other distinguished Kadets visited Odessa to help in making important decisions.62 Additionally, Odessa had yet another “national center” called the South-Russian National Center (Iuzhno-russkii natsional’nyi tsentr), which was a successor to the Kievan National Center. Shulgin was its leader and the only link with the Odessa National Center to which he belonged. Otherwise, like their predecessors in Kiev, both organizations shunned each other. The South-Russian National Center did not participate in the Council of Four Organizations.63 The Zemstvo-City Council of South Russia (Sovet zemstv i gorodov Iuga Rossii) had its roots in the Congress of Self-governments of the South which had taken place in Simferopol between November 30 and December 8, 1918.64 This congress had no more than seventy participants, the majority of whom represented the larger cities of the Crimea. Because of communication difficulties the zemstvos had only a few delegates. The congress’ problems with representation were even more obvious if one considers its political composition. It represented the Left exclusively; even its several nonsocialist delegates belonged to the leftist wing of the Kadet party.65 There were several reasons for the congress’ make-up. First, delegates represented dumas and zemstvos elected in the summer of 1917. In these elections the socialists won a great victory. Second, from the beginning, the congress was perceived as an enterprise of the Left, hence the majority of non-socialist members in the dumas and zemstvos boycotted it outright.66 The congress voted a series of resolutions, which proclaimed the following principles: the overthrow of the Soviet regime; struggle with the supporters of the Old Regime; the right of nations to self-determination, provided that it be consonant with the interest of the people; recognition of people’s power

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(narodovlastie) through the enacting of land and labor reform and the assurance of civil liberties, as the best way of uprooting the elemental Bolshevism of the masses; the establishment of South-Russian authority in the form of a directory to be chosen by representatives of various parties and organizations gathered at a State Conference (Gosudarstvennoe Soveshchanie); the formation of a Russian People’s Army (narodnaia Russkaia armiia), whose core would be the Volunteer Army of Denikin; the recognition of the Ufa Directory as a great step on the path to the restoration of provisional all-Russian authority (the latter was to arise from an agreement concluded between the two Directories, of Ufa and the South); and the expectation of substantial assistance from the Allies in the struggle against the Bolsheviks with the simultaneous recognition of the sovereignty of Russia.67 In order to bring this program to life, the congress created the Zemstvo-City Council of South Russia. Its executive body was the nine-member Central Bureau, with its seat in Odessa. The Bureau consisted of three Socialist Revolutionaries and two representatives each from the Menshevik, Popular Socialist, and Kadet Parties.68 The best known among these were V. V. Rudnev, Ia. L. Rubinshtein, and Braikevich. The last, who was Odessa’s mayor, was also a member of the Union for Regeneration and the State Unity Council. Despite their remarkably partisan character, both the congress and the Zemstvo-City Council claimed to enjoy a unique popular mandate. As representatives of the local and provincial self-governments, i.e., institutions chosen in democratic elections, they were supposed to express the will of the Russian people.69 In fact, because of its composition and program, the new organization was rather indistinguishable from the Union for Regeneration. Other organizations in Odessa as well as the White authorities in Ekaterinodar perceived it as merely a more radical wing of the Union.70 The only important difference between the two groups was the attitude toward Ukraine: the Zemstvo-City Council was prepared to recognize its right to independence, while the Union for Regeneration strongly opposed it, regarding the Ukrainian spirit of independence as a sort of Bolshevism.71 In the Council of Four, the two organizations formed a bloc, always acting together. The hopes which the State Unity Council linked in Odessa to the Jassy Conference did not come to pass. In the first days of January 1919, the Jassy Conference finally ceased to function and the Council of Four Organizations became the only forum at which the multiparty organizations in Odessa met.72 It existed in this way until its disintegration in mid-March 1919. In the beginning of January 1919, it was still unclear what would be the chief objective of the Council of Four. Going on the assumption that the GrishinAlmazov administration was only a temporary solution—and Denikin’s treatment of the administration strengthened this perception—the Right wanted the

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Council of Four to create a new authority in the region of the French intervention and, through pressure on Ekaterinodar, obtain extraordinary powers for that authority. This was an attempt to make the Council of Four into the highest organ expressing the opinions of civil society’s leaders in matters of practical politics.73 These efforts encountered the decided opposition of the remaining three organizations. The Union for Regeneration and the Zemstvo-City Council were interested above all in preventing the emergence of a military dictatorship in the South, and in promoting a collegial form of government. Therefore, they demanded of the Council of Four that it concentrate on resolving the fundamental question: the nature of the future authority in the South. Such aims for the Council shifted its activities from the practical to the theoretical sphere, all the more so because the authority, which it was going to discuss, was supposed to embrace the whole South, including Ukraine, the Don, the Kuban, and even the Caucasus.74 It seems that this focus was the chief reason why the Odessa National Center supported the Left in setting the general agenda for the Council of Four. The credibility of this conjecture is confirmed by the fact that Shulgin, representing the Odessa National Center, joined a commission which was to work out the agenda of the Council of Four.75 There is no doubt that he did not wish to see the emergence of a real authority in the South which would not only remove the Grishin-Almazov administration but even contend with the authority of Denikin. The first meetings of the Council of Four, at which the character of that body was decided (January 8, 13, 20, 1919), were still very chaotic. In addition to the problem of authority in the South, the representatives of the Left, and especially of the Zemstvo-City Council, took up a number of other questions, for example the need for the immediate revival of the local selfgovernments and the guaranteeing of civil rights, including the right to create trade unions and to strike. They also demanded that the State Unity Council rid itself of landlords and “reactionaries.”76 In the last days of January, probably on January 24, a proposal from the Union for Regeneration was accepted as the basis for future discussion concerning authority in the South. This at long last brought a certain order to the proceedings of the Council of Four. Its content in great measure recalled a similar motion proposed by the Union for Regeneration at the end of November at the Jassy Conference, as well as the program worked out at the Congress of Self-governments in Simferopol.77 The Union’s proposal called, first, for summoning a State Conference (Gosudarstvennoe soveshchanie) composed of representatives of regional governments (the Don, Kuban, Crimea), multiparty organizations, provincial and local self-governments, labor unions, commercial and industrial organizations, professional associations, etc. Second, it assumed that the State Conference would select a provisional South-Russian authority, which would be a character of collegial dictatorship—a three-man directory, to which the com-

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mander-in-chief of military forces in the South would belong ex officio. Third, the proposal stated that the State Conference would establish a plan of action for the directory and then dissolve itself. According to that plan of action, the directory was to announce elections to the Constituent Assembly immediately after the victory over the Soviet Regime and to have a cabinet of ministers chosen without regards to party affiliation. This cabinet could not dismiss the regional authorities, although it would take away from them prerogatives belonging to the central government.78 As could be predicted, the Union for Regeneration’s proposal received strong support from the Zemstvo-City Council. But contrary to expectations, the State Unity Council also accepted this proposal at the meeting held on January 31. Furthermore, it agreed to its most controversial point postulating the directorial character of authority in the South.79 In turn, this put the Odessa National Center, the firm proponent of military dictatorship, in a troublesome situation. Not wanting to take responsibility for rupturing the emerging accord within political society, the Odessa organization also accepted the Union for Regeneration’ proposal. It did it, however, only on condition that: representatives of Denikin’s Volunteer Army enter the State Conference; the Directory not be accountable to any body beyond a future Constituent Assembly; and the Director—commander-in-chief have broad “discretionary” authority.80 This astonishing departure from the principle of dictatorship that had been dogma in the program of the National Center for a long time, became later the object of great embarrassment for its Odessa politicians. They then tried to explain their lapse by the lack of contacts with the leaders of the organization residing in Ekaterinodar.81 Of the three demands made by the Odessa National Center, the Council of Four accepted the first two without reservation, while the third became the object of controversy lasting almost two months. Supported by the State Unity Council, the Center insisted on such enlargement of the authority of the commander-in-chief that it become de facto dictatorial. The Commander was to have exclusive control over the army, including the choice of military strategy and the nomination of senior officers, as well as the right to declare martial law in the provinces, where he would enjoy total authority.82 These requirements met, however, with the categorical opposition of both the Union for Regeneration and the Zemstvo-City Council, which maintained that these prerogatives should belong to all of the triumvirs.83 The question of who specifically would enter the directorate, besides the obvious case of Denikin, was never decided, although the Council considered only two candidates: Astrov of the National Center and Bunakov-Fundaminskii of the Union for Regeneration.84 Among the four organizations there were additional differences of opinion on the land and labor questions, and on the future election rules. These problems

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were of a secondary importance since proposals on these matters were not examined in the meetings of the Council of Four, but were only taken under notice and entered in the minutes. Beyond this, the differences were not drastic. For example on the land question, all the organizations agreed that the Constituent Assembly would make the final decisions and that the current policy should be chiefly concerned with the preservation of order in the villages. They did, however, disagree on how to achieve this. The Left demanded the maintenance of the status quo and wanted to forbid the sale of lands during the civil war, while both, the Right and Center favored such trade.85 In late January-early February 1919, when the Council of Four began to debate seriously the question of the form of the future South-Russian authority, the four organizations faced an additional challenge. In the last days of January, news reached Odessa of the appeal addressed at the Paris Peace Conference by the Allied Council of Ten, calling on all warring sides in Russia to cease all military operations immediately and to join in negotiations for peace. To this end, the Council of Ten, in an invitation broadcast by radio on January 23, proposed the convening of a conference on Prinkipo Island, near Constantinople, and set the date for its opening on February 15, 1919. The proposal for this conference, where Bolsheviks and White Russians were to sit side by side at the negotiating table, provoked indignation and the immediate opposition of Kolchak’s Government in Siberia and Denikin’s in the South. A formal rejection of this proposal followed on February 12, when it became clear that the Clemençeau Government was not at all opposed to burying the idea of the conference.86 The brief radio message containing the text of the official invitation to the conference on Prinkipo Island was the only information that the multiparty organizations had for almost two weeks about this initiative. Thus, they were in a similar situation to the remnants of multiparty organizations in Moscow, which were also working out their own position toward this conference. The lack of communications with both Paris and Ekaterinodar makes considerably clearer the “moderate” reaction of the Odessa multiparty organizations to the invitation. While the idea of the conference did not arouse enthusiasm among them, all multiparty organizations recognized that they had to send their representatives, if only to “clear the air.”87 Accordingly, each began the process of selecting delegates for the conference. On this occasion, controversy broke out between the Zemstvo-City Council and the self-governing group in the State Unity Council as to who had the right to represent the self-governments of the South. On February 8, the Council of Four decided that they would do this jointly. But shortly afterward, on February 12, information reached Odessa about the reluctant attitude of the French Government toward the conference on Prinkipo Island. This information caused an immediate reversal in

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the position of the multiparty organizations: they all abandoned the idea of sending their delegations.88 The most embarrassed were the two leftist groups because they had already chosen their delegates and announced their names in the press.89 The National Center did not fare much better. While the Odessa group was considering whether to send its representatives to Prinkipo Island, the central authorities of that organization in Ekaterinodar sharply condemned the very idea of the conference.90 After almost two weeks of excitement caused by the news about the conference on Prinkipo Island, the Council of Four returned to its routine discussions on the structure of the future South-Russian authority. These discussions continued until the beginning of March. Yet, in view of the limited character of the French intervention, the negotiations of the political leaders became ever more divorced from reality. For, how were they possibly to establish authority throughout the whole South when the French had not even ventured beyond Odessa? In this altered situation, the success or failure of their vision of authority in the South depended directly on the attitude of Ekaterinodar. As for Ekaterinodar, it delayed revealing its actual opinion because its interest lay in drawing out empty discussions. As long as the multiparty organizations negotiated on the subject of authority constituted jointly, they kept themselves from individual actions, including any agreement on the reorganization of the authority in the Odessa region, which was what the French Command demanded. And this was exactly what Denikin was most afraid of.91 Already in late February, the Odessa National Center and the State Unity Council learned that Denikin would never accept a directory. Since without his support the discussions of the four organizations lost any meaning, the Right and Center decided to look for a pretext for breaking off talks with the Left.92 This took place officially on March 10 at what became the last meeting of the Council of Four. The representative of the Odessa Center read out the resolutions sent from Ekaterinodar by the all-Russian National Center which declared that in time of civil war the only admissible form of government was military dictatorship. This resolution surprised both groups on the Left. From the relation of Miakotin one gathers that they did not expect the end of the negotiations to be so close.93 After the break-off of the Council of Four’s talks, all the organizations issued resolutions presenting their own versions of what caused the failure of their negotiations. Since they published their resolutions in the press, this fiasco became a public spectacle. In the resolutions of both leftist groups, they underscored their principled opposition to a military dictatorship which they viewed as a step toward the restoration of the Old Regime. They also suggested that differences concerning land and labor questions were equally important causes for the failure. Then, on March 29, the Union for Regeneration

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stated that its members could no longer participate in the National Center.94 In this way, it broke with a tradition that had existed since the early summer of 1918. Additionally, the Right and Center rejected the Left’s claim about agrarian reform and labor legislation, explaining to the general public that the Council of Four had never discussed these issues. Both also accused the Left of pointless obstinacy with their calls for a collegial authority which, as they maintained, would have led to greater disorder. However, in contrast to the Odessa National Center, the State Unity Council did not condemn the idea of a directory itself, but emphasized the need for unusual powers for the director—commander-in-chief.95 The collapse of the Council of Four’s dialogue over the creation of an authority in the South was not just the failure of this particular initiative. It was far more significant. It meant the final rejection of the very idea of cooperation among societies’ political elites. It marked the end of the elites’ belief in their ability to restore political authority in Russia and a recognition of their own impotence. In this context, the aforementioned resolution issued by the Union of Regeneration on March 29, although it confirmed only the status quo ante, acquired an additional symbolic dimension.

DENIKIN’S TRIUMPH While the four organizations were conducting academic discussions as to whether the future government in the South should be a dictatorship or a directory, Russian authority in the region of the French intervention sank into an ever-deepening crisis. Denikin continued to try to administer Odessa directly from Ekaterinodar and appeared not to understand the need to change this policy. Warnings streaming in from Odessa that the lack of an efficient administration, endowed with broad powers, would lead to direct control by the French, had no effect. On the contrary, they convinced Denikin of the essential correctness of the centralization policy. Denikin took these counsels as a lack of loyalty on the part of Russian politicians and treated the warnings as an admission of their participation in future French actions. Even politicians who were totally devoted to him, like Shulgin, were victims of Denikin’s suspiciousness. Put out of patience by Shulgin’s appeals for more autonomy for General Grishin-Almazov, Denikin removed Shulgin in early February from influence in the Russian administration of Odessa.96 He dealt even more harshly with the delegation from the State Unity Council which had visited him earlier for the same purpose. Although both delegates, Prince E. N. Trubetskoi and S. N. Maslov, belonged to the moderate wing of the Council

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which favored Denikin’s dictatorship, he accused them of attempting to dismember Russia and warned that they would be treated as national traitors.97 It would seem that Ekaterinodar must have been aware of the possibility of abolishing the existing Russian administration and replacing it with an authority called into being by the French Command. If so, then the real intention of Denikin’s threats directed at the Russian politicians was their total intimidation. If successful, this policy would thwart French plans because it would deprive them of Russian partners. Since among the multiparty organizations in Odessa, the State Unity Council was the most active, showed the greatest initiative and seemed the most disposed toward cooperation with the French, Denikin reserved for it his harshest words of criticism.98 The Odessa National Center was not as much a threat for Denikin as the Right, although like other organizations it demanded unusual powers for the Russian authority in the region of intervention. However, the leaders of the National Center resided in Ekaterinodar, and they supported Denikin’s policy without reservation. As for the Left, it was totally passive in this area, hence Denikin ignored it.99 During February 1919, relations between the French leadership and Ekaterinodar entered a new phase of growing tensions. The former was increasingly impatient with the lack of cooperation on the part of the White leadership and with the paralysis of the Russian administration in the Odessa region. The latter observed the French negotiations with the Ukrainians with unease, treating them as attempts to divide Russia, and suspected the Western ally of wanting to establish a regime of occupation in the South. Ekaterinodar’s misgivings were quite justified. While the French negotiations with the Ukrainian Directory did not bring any practical results, the Command of the intervening forces was ever more inclined to establish a mixed, RussianUkrainian authority in the region that was under its control. As mentioned above, in early February, the French and Ukrainians reached several agreements. Freydenberg afterwards lost a few weeks in discussions about altering the composition of the Ukrainian Directory. He wanted to include politicians who might be acceptable to the Russians. The chief candidates under consideration were agents of the Union of Agrarians because their national loyalty was fluid. Depending on the situation, they pretended at times to be Ukrainian, at other times Russian. These talks were finally broken off in late February because after the Ukrainian armies disintegrated under Bolshevik pressure, they lost all political and military utility.100 Freydenberg was conducting parallel talks with Russian politicians in Odessa. In them, he complained about the position of Ekaterinodar, which made cooperation with the French Command impossible and paralyzed

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administration in the region of intervention. Although a proposals to create a joint government with the Ukrainians had not been yet presented, from midFebruary this was clearly understood in Odessa to be the French intention. The initially delicate allusions to the possibility of changing the regime in the South shifted in early March to open appeals that the Russians demonstrate initiative and replace the Grishin-Almazov administration with a new one.101 These appeals were directed mainly to the State Unity Council, because contacts with the Odessa National Center showed that that organization would do nothing without the approval of Ekaterinodar.102 Yet, discussions with the State Unity Council dragged on and led nowhere on account of its fear of an open break with Ekaterinodar. Until the beginning of March, the Council repeatedly argued that the French Command should seek a compromise with Denikin.103 As for cooperation with the Ukrainians, the Council discussed this option, but in the end did not know how to come to a conclusion.104 Being unable to induce the representatives from the mainstream of the Russian political spectrum to cooperate, the French increasingly resorted to the help of politicians on the margins, chiefly from the Union of Agrarians. Among the latter, a certain adventurer, D. F. Andro, had made a truly bewildering career. Used at first to establish contacts with the Ukrainian Directory, Andro began as early as mid-February to aspire to the position of GovernorGeneral in place of Grishin-Almazov. Then, in early March, he appeared as the chief candidate for premier of the new government that was to be sponsored by the French.105 The apparent final straw which forced the French to take more decisive steps was the abrupt worsening military situation. The French colonial armies, which were supposed to replace the demoralized troops in the Odessa region, did not arrive, and the French, after the collapse of the Ukrainian armies, were faced with the necessity of taking up the war against the Bolsheviks and the peasant “Green” insurgents. From the first encounters, the results were disastrous. On March 10, the attacking divisions of Ataman Grigor’ev took Kherson without difficulty. Two days later, the intervention armies gave up Nikolaev without a fight. The zone of occupation soon contracted again to Odessa.106 In the face of the dramatic military situation, the French Command began preparations for instituting a state of siege as of March 15 and for bringing the Russian administration in Odessa under its own control. Next to General d’Anselme a Council (Sovet) was to be formed with Andro as its head and as the minister of internal affairs. The remaining members of the Council were to be: Margulies, for the State Unity Council (finance); B. F. Grigorenko, for the Union of Agrarians (agriculture); V. P. Litvinov-Falinskii, former member of the Pil’ts cabinet (commerce and industry); General A. V. Shvarts, in

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Denikin’s disfavor because of his socialist sympathies and alleged past collaboration with the Bolsheviks (military affairs), and Braikevich, President of the City Duma.107 The leaders of the State Unity Council learned about these decisions by the French Command on March 12. On the same day, both the Bureau of the Council and a larger meeting of members of the State Unity Council (forty participants) approved the participation of Margulies in the Andro Government. These decisions broke the opposition of Margulies, who had initially withheld his agreement.108 Yet, problems with the establishment of a French administration already began the next day when related orders by d’Anselme were published in the press. Nearly all Russian organizations expressed their opposition to the state of siege and the Andro regime. Even the Left, admitting openly its strong differences with Denikin’s administration, considered them to be Russian internal affairs. Therefore, it treated d’Anselme’s orders as an attempt to impose a colonial regime, and as an infringement on Russian sovereignty.109 Braikevich, who had known nothing about the plans to include him in Andro’s Council, indignantly refused to participate. Despite his bad relations with Ekaterinodar, General Shvarts also refused to partake in a regime that was perceived to be anti-Denikin.110 The ranks of the State Unity Council wavered as well in the face of this unanimously negative reaction. On March 15, Margulies withdrew his accession to the Andro Government. Several days later the Council itself recognized the Volunteer Army of Denikin as the sole guarantor of Russia’s state unity and announced its opposition to the French attempt to establish a regional authority in the South.111 As usual, when Russian national pride was at stake, the political elites had no problem with closing ranks. The French leadership was totally surprised by the attitude of the Russian politicians. Already on March 14, an explanation by d’Anselme appeared in the press, stating that his arrangement did not have as its goal the abolition of a regime confirmed by Denikin, but only the strengthening of order and the improvement of supplies in the region of French military activity. To ensure this, he named Andro as his aide for civilian matters. In the explanation, d’Anselme further announced that he would shortly set up a Committee of Defense and Supply which would function as an advisory body for him.112 This was a clear withdrawal from the first plans which Freydenberg had advocated, and an attempt to secure a compromise with Ekaterinodar. The next orders from d’Anselme issued on March 19 and 20, confirmed the French leadership’s hesitation and its reluctance to deepen the conflict with Ekaterinodar. The orders contained the personal composition and the scope of authority of the Committee of Defense and Supply. Andro figured in them only as an assistant for administrative affairs, while Grishin-Almazov was listed as

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the commander of Russian volunteers and the chief of police in Odessa. This French attempt at compromise did not appear entirely serious because, as before, not all of the members of the Committee accepted the function assigned to them. Grishin-Almazov was not even informed about his nomination beforehand.113 Denikin received information about the French plans to set up Andro’s Council only on March 19. He immediately telegraphed his representative in Odessa, General Sannikov, telling him to ignore Andro and his administration completely, and to retain full civil authority while following French orders in combat with the Bolsheviks. He handed over to him extraordinary powers in case of a break in communications.114 This telegram may have reached Odessa too late to have a direct effect on the chain of events. But the response of Russian elites to this French initiative, made evident already on March 13, demonstrated the power of Denikin’s authority and the prestige of the Volunteer Army. There was no doubt that without an open break with Ekaterinodar, the French were not in a position to implement their plans. The vacillation of the French leadership was eventually terminated by General Franchet d’Espérey, who finally exerted himself to appear in person to Odessa for a two-day visit. On March 20, he met separately with Andro, with representatives of the State Unity Council, and with delegates of the Union for Regeneration. In those talks he stressed that the goal of the French was not to interfere in internal Russian affairs, but to help Russia in restoring order.115 On the next day he made a number of decisions which d’Anselme had avoided so far. First, he named General Shvarts as the new Governor-General of the region of the intervention. Second, he confirmed d’Anselme’s order setting up the Committee of Defense and Supply. Third, to accommodate the socialists, he created an Extraordinary Advisory Organ composed of d’Anselme, Braikevich, and Butenko (this body never even began to function). Finally, he ordered Grishin-Almazov and Sannikov to leave Odessa.116 Yet, the new arrangement unceremoniously introduced by Franchet d’Esperey did not last long because the military situation in the French zone grew worse day by day. More and more divisions refused to fight, and the French Command feared that a mutiny of the entire army was imminent. Furthermore, continued French presence in an Odessa surrounded by the Bolsheviks, would have required that they organize by sea food supplies for the soldiers and hundreds of thousands of Odessa’s inhabitants. In the face of these difficulties, Paris decided by March 27 to evacuate Odessa. Relevant orders reached d’Anselme on April 2. The evacuation was accomplished in haste between April 3 and 6. At the end of the month, the French also gave up the port of Sevastopol on the Crimea. In this sloppy fashion, the French intervention in the South finally ended.117

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When in mid-December 1918, the first divisions of the French Army disembarked in Odessa, it seemed to the anti-Bolshevik Russians, who had been waiting for this moment for a long time, as if the Civil War had reached a turning-point. Both the Russian political elites and the leadership of the White Army believed that in a few months the military intervention would be concluded with the abolition of the Soviet regime and the restoration of an allRussian state. They differed only about who would benefit most from the presence of the Western Allies. The elites had hopes for the creation of a South-Russian government and, should the Allied army manage to reach Moscow, even for the establishment of an all-Russian authority. This scenario reserved an important position for Denikin, either as a commander-in-chief of Russian forces or as a member of a Directory, or even as a military dictator. In turn, the White leadership in Ekaterinodar believed that the help of the intervening armies would be of greatest benefit to the Volunteer Army, which would soon appear in Moscow as its liberator and as the savior of the motherland. In light of these great hopes, the outcome of the intervention was a bankrupt disgrace in which all of the parties involved lost. The French, compromised themselves in the eyes of the Russians, both White and Red, the White Army not only deprived itself of a valuable ally against the Bolsheviks but it also antagonized the French, while the Russian political elites lost their last chance for playing an independent role in the anti-Bolsheviks struggle. All parties involved were responsible for the outcome of the intervention, although that responsibility was not equally shared. As for the French, they first hastily decided to intervene in the Civil War and made a number of promises of help, then allocated entirely inadequate means to achieve even limited success and, finally, departed from the South when first confronted with difficulties and without considering for what would happen next. The French are fully responsible for their expedition’s debacle and their intervention can serve as a textbook example of how not to organize an intervention abroad. The White Army is responsible for an equal blunder. Instead of taking advantage of the French presence and of their Army’s original prestige; instead of accommodating or at least humoring French wishes in order to pull them as deeply as possible to the South, Denikin assumed an openly defiant attitude and did everything in his power to make the French position in the Odessa region unbearable. Of course, cooperating with the French would have required, first, his help in establishing an efficient government in the area of intervention and therefore a willingness to limit his own authority, and, second, a compromise with the Ukrainian patriots. Both moves were, however, unacceptable to Denikin. Rather, he paralyzed administration in the

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Odessa region and threatened any Russian open to cooperation with the Ukrainians with court-martial. This policy estranged the French and contributed to their decision to withdraw from the South. The political elites were certainly the least responsible for the failure of the intervention. Although, as the weakest player, they had very little influence on the course of events, this does not relieve them entirely from accountability. It is true that their position was precarious and that their influence depended largely on Denikin’s willingness to recognize their spiritual authority. It is true that Shulgin weakened them even further when he maneuvered them out of direct participation in the Odessa government. Yet, it is also true that the French treated them as a genuine representation of Russia’s public opinion, and that it was not the fault of the French that the elites did not know how to take advantage of this opportunity. Wasting the prestige of the Jassy Conference is the best demonstration of such carelessness. Furthermore, although Denikin was obstinate and, in general, unfriendly toward politicians, even he had to reverse his decisions when he encountered their united opposition as illustrated by the withdrawal of his orders relating to the Odessa Duma. The political elites’ basic problem was, however, that they were not united; like earlier in Moscow, they needed French pressure even to maintain the appearance of unity. Thus, they deprived themselves of the only real means of pressure on Denikin. Of course, achieving a lasting unity among the political elites was impossible if one keeps in mind that one of the multiparty organization—the National Center—represented, at least from the fall of 1918, the interest of the White Army’s command rather than that of a liberal segment of Russian public opinion. The true aim of the Center was therefore to prevent the other multiparty organizations from reaching a compromise and establishing authority. In this situation the elites could stand united only when Ekaterinodar’s orders threatened Odessa with a total collapse of administration and when even the Odessa National Center could no longer defend such a policy. That was sufficient ground to build up a momentary alliance to pressure Denikin, but entirely insufficient to form a united front of the anti-Bolshevik political elite as a whole. While the National Center is the most responsible for the elites’ impotence in Odessa, the remaining multiparty organizations were not without faults of their own. Their fundamental mistake lay in their inability to transcend their narrow, pre-revolutionary party dogmas and prejudices, and to look for what they might have had in common in the conditions of the Civil War. The Right and Left viewed each other with suspicion and contempt, and each competed for the support of the National Center, not seeing that by accommodating to Kadets’ party line (Denikin’s dictatorship), they were undermining the basic

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rationale for their own work—the restoration of an all-Russian government based upon civil society’s representatives. Furthermore, both the Right and Left were much more conciliatory toward nationalities in the South than the Liberals. Yet, instead of cooperating with each other in this respect and supporting the French initiative to bring the Ukrainians into a common antiBolshevik front, they chose to close ranks with the Kadets, and boycotted these French efforts altogether. Deprived of direct influence on the Odessa government, the multiparty organizations also failed to take advantage of the only institution in which they were fully autonomous: the Council of Four Organizations. Naturally, there was nothing the Council could have done to change the outcome of the intervention or to bring the elites closer to power. The Council seemed to be nothing else but a debating society and as such should have used that forum to initiate a serious debate on what was wrong with Russia and what was to be done in the South during the French intervention. Such a debate might have give the Council an opportunity to reflect on Russia’s ills and, by making it available to the public, it might have served for educating public opinion and gathering its support. Yet, the Council withheld from even such an attempt to broaden it social base and resorted to ever more sterile discussions on the nature of a future south-Russian authority. The breaking-off of talks held within the framework of the Council of Four, as well as the failure of the French intervention in the South, marked the symbolic end of a particular epoch in the political activity of the Russian elites. The former represented the ultimate defeat of their endeavors—begun almost the very day after the Bolshevik Revolution—to restore authority in Russia through common efforts by all political forces within society. The latter, in turn, meant the end of their independent activity. For, after the withdrawal of the French from the South, Denikin, along with Kolchak, became the unquestioned leaders of the struggle against the Soviet regime. From then on, the multiparty organizations could support the Denikin regime or act as a “constructive opposition,” but could not themselves undertake attempts to create a government in Russia. In the end, one is left with the unavoidable conclusion that in spite of their incessant laments over the “mortal” threat to Russia and civilization posed by the Bolsheviks, the Whites, both the military and the political elites, perceived the threat from the nationalities as at least equally dangerous. No amount of French blunders committed during the intervention can change that perception. For, regardless of how unprepared and weak the French were, the Whites could have used their presence in the South to pressure the Ukrainian insurgents into a compromise—the French were working toward that aim at any rate—and to fight with them against the Soviet regime. Naturally, such a

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compromise would have had to acknowledge Ukrainian independence, or at least its autonomy in a future federal Russian state. However, that vision of the future was anathema to both Denikin and most of civil society’s elites. Denikin preferred to antagonize the French, to contribute to the collapse of the intervention, and even to risk defeat in the anti-Bolshevik struggle rather than to help bring about a compromise with the nationalities.

NOTES 1. What Prince Trubetskoi said exactly was that Moscow had become the place of refuge for a part of “All Petrograd,” Kiev for a part of “All Petrograd and Moscow” and Odessa for a part of “All Petrograd, Moscow and Kiev”: Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 169. 2. For a thorough review of French policy toward Russia between the fall of 1918 and spring of 1919 see: John Bradley, Allied Intervention in Russia (New York: Basic Books, 1968), 132–57; George A. Brinkley, “Allied Policy and French Intervention in the Ukraine, 1917–1920,” in Taras Hunczak (ed.), The Ukrainian Revolution, 1917–1921: a Study in Revolution (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1977), 343–51; Michael Jabara Carley, Revolution and Intervention: the French Government and the Russian Civil War, 1917–1919 (Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1983), 89–181. See also Jean Xydias, L’intervention franaise en Russie, 1918–1919: souvenirs d’un temoin (Paris: Editions de France, 1927); Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States: Russia, 1919, (Washington: Department of State, 1937); Richard H. Ullman, Britain and the Russian Civil War, 3 vols. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1961–72), II; Robert Jackson, At War with the Bolsheviks: the Allied Intervention into Russia, 1917–1920 (London: Tom Stacey, 1972), 107–89; Lyman William Priest, “The Cordon Sanitaire, 1918–1922,” (Ph.D. Diss., Stanford University, 1954), 47–68. For a history of Franco-Russian relations that presents the policies of both sides, see: John Brinkley, The Volunteer Army and Allied Intervention in South Russia, 1917–1921 (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1966), 73–90, 113–45. See also two more recent publications on foreign intervention in the Russian Civil War: David S. Foglesong, America’s Secret War against Bolshevism: U.S. intervention in the Russian Civil War, 1917–1920 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1995); Perry Moore, Stamping out the Virus: Allied Intervention in the Russian Civil War, 1918–1920 (Atglen: Schiffer Pub., 2002). They show intervention in Russia in general, and in the South in particular, predominantly from the perspective of internal American politics and from the military point of view, respectively). 3. Bradley, Allied Intervention, 132–36; Brinkley, Volunteer Army, 75–76. However, it must be added that according to an agreement between France and Great Britain—concluded on December 22, 1917 and reaffirmed on November 13, 1918— the South was divided into two zones of influence: British to the south-east of the

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Black Sea and French to its north. The British had their own “little intervention” in Transcaucasia (Brinkley, Volunteer Army, 90–103). 4. This was V. I. Gurko’s impression of American policy toward Russia which he expressed after visiting Paris and London with a delegation sent by the Jassy Conference: Margulies, God interventsii, I, 321. 5. Bradley, Allied Intervention, 136–37; Brinkley, “Allied Policy and French Intervention,” 328, and Volunteer Army, 73–75; Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 108–09. For a brief survey of French economic interest in Russia, see Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 89–104, 123–41. 6. For a brief review of the notes, see the chapter on the Jassy Conference. For the impact of the Jassy Conference on the French authorities see: Bradley, Allied Intervention, 139–40; Brinkley, “Allied Policy and French Intervention,” 323–37 and Volunteer Army, 80–84; Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 113. 7. Already on Oct. 7, 1918, Clemençeau instructed General Henri Berthelot, the Commander of the French forces in Romania, to contact pro-Allied Russian groups; on Oct. 27, the Prime Minister sent a plan of military intervention in the South to General Franchet d’Espérey; on Nov. 2, General Berthelot was put in charge of the French intervention, and on Nov. 3, the French navy was ordered to prepare transportation of troops to Odessa: Bradley, Allied Intervention, 136–37; Brinkley, Volunteer Army, 75, 77; Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 111–12. Although political decisions and the military command were in the French hands, the troops involved in the intervention were French, Greek, Serbian, Romanian and Polish. Hence, the intervention was French as well as Allied. 8. Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 111–12. 9. “Ocherk vzaimootnoshenii vooruzhennykh sil iuga Rossii i predstavitelei frantsuzskago komandovaniia,” ARR, XVI (1925), 234–35. 10. Ibid., 234; Denikin, Ocherki, IV, 38–39; Lukomskii, Vospominaniia, II, 259. 11. Henno was to go to Kiev as French Consul with special powers to represent the Allies: Margulies, God interventsii, I, 38–39. However, only after news about his policy in the South reached Paris, did the Quai d’Orsay become aware of Henno’s existence. Subsequently, the French Foreign Minister Stephen Pichon had to disavow him twice in the Parliament. See McNeal, “The Conference of Jassy,” 222; Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 118–19. Procyk implies that in fact he was a military agent and that is why he was not registered in French diplomatic and consular service (Russian Nationalism, 84). That conjecture seems true, particularly in view of Denikin’s remark that Henno was the chief of intelligence service next to French Ambassador in Romania Comte August de Saint-Aulaire (Ocherki, V, 5). 12. “Verbal’naia Instruktsiia Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh,” Azbuka report, Nov. 17 (4), 1918, WMA, file 143. See also a recommendation letter for Henno written by Shulgin to S. D. Sazonov which confirms his impeccable pro-Russian views: V. V. Shul’gin to S. D. Sazonov, correspondence, Azbuka report, March, 23 (8), 1918, WMA, file 132. For more on Henno, see Brinkley, Volunteer Army, 83–84, 329–30. 13. Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States: Russia, 1918, 3 vols. (Washington: Department of State, 1931–32), II, 701; Gurko, “Iz Petrograda

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cherez Moskvu,” 52; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” 266; Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 106. 14. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 8–10; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 5, 267. The neutral zone was defended by a small detachment of Polish legionaries sent earlier to Odessa by Denikin. The Poles, who during the Great War served in the Russian Army, got stuck in Odessa on their way home. 15. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 10–11; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS, no. 5, 267–68; M. Braikevich, “Iz revoliutsii nam chto-nibud’,” NChS 5, 234; “Kratkaia zapiska o sobytiiakh v Odesse s 4/17 Dekabria 1918 po 14/27 Marta 1919 goda,” Azbuka report, WMA, file 132, p. 1; Azbuka report, Razvedyvatel’nyi otdel, Odessa, (n. d.), WMA, file 134, p. 1. Berthelot ordered Borius not to negotiate with the Ukrainians but simply to inform Petliura that he would be considered responsible for any disorder the Ukrainian troops might cause: Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 120. 16. Xydias, L’intervention franaise en Russie, 163. “Ocherk vzaimootnoshenii vooruzhennykh sil iuga Rossii i predstavitelei frantsuzskago komandovaniia,” 237, 245; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 11, 31–32. 17. “Ocherk vzaimootnoshenii vooruzhennykh sil iuga Rossii i predstavitelei frantsuzskago komandovaniia,” 237; “Soobshchenie generala Grishin-Almazova,” Azbuka report, Mar. 23, 1919, WMA, file 134, p. 1; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 32. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 113; I. Novikov, “Bor’ba s bol’shevikami v Novorossiiskom krae,” Azbuka report, Odessa, Apr. 26 (13), 1919, WMA, file 134, p. 10. 18. Even Colonel Henri Freydenberg—the chief of staff of the Allied Army in Odessa, put in charge of political affairs—shared this view: Margulies, God interventsii, I, 309. See also ibid., 66, 198–99; Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 175–76; Novikov, “Bor’ba s bol’shevikami v Novorossiiskom krae,” p. 11. Cf. Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 144. 19. Quoted in Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 112. General Franchet d’Espérey was also against the intervention and he warned Clemençeau already in mid-November (ibid.). 20. Clemençeau’s statements pronounced at the end of December, 1918 quoted in: Brinkley, Volunteer Army, 89; Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 115–17. 21. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago: v Odesse pri dobrovol’tsakh,” NChS 6 (1924), 81–82; Braikevich, “Iz revoliutsii nam chto-nibud’,” 244–45; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 29; 33; Novikov, “Bor’ba s bol’shevikami v Novorossiiskom krae,” p. 8; M. M. Fedorov to N. V. Chaikovskii, correspondence, Azbuka report, June 6 (May 24), 1919, WMA, file 135. On March 8, 1919, Margulies quotes in his diary a bitter remark made by the French intelligence officer Portal: “We have been ignored by Berthelot, abandoned by Franchet d’Espérey and deserted by Paris” (God interventsii, I, 299). 22. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 34; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 163, 190, 234; Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 173; Xydias, L’intervention francaise en Russie, 202. 23. For a detailed account of French-Ukrainian relations see, A. I. Gukovskii, Frantsuzskaia interventsiia na iuge Rossii, 1918–1919. Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe

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Izdatel’stvo, 1928, 112–57; Brinkley, Volunteer Army, 116–26; Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 145–51; Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 108–10. 24. On Feb. 6, 1919, V. K. Vynnychenko and V. M. Chekhivskyi resigned from the Directory: Arnol’d Margolin, Ukraina i politika Antanty (Berlin: Izdatel’stvo S. Efron, n. d.), 124; Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 148–49. 25. In early February, representatives of Ukraine, Belarus, the Kuban, and Don signed a note on federation with Russia: Margolin, Ukraina i politika Antanty, 103–05, 112–18; Gukovskii, Frantsuzskaia interventsiia, 62. Because of a small Polish force in Odessa, its representative was also to be included in a joint Allied command. Gukovskii, Frantsuzskaia interventsiia, 141–43. Cf. Brinkley, Volunteer Army, 342–43, 47n. on the question of authenticity of these agreements. 26. “Ocherk vzaimootnoshenii vooruzhennykh sil iuga Rossii i predstavitelei frantsuzskago komandovaniia,” 242; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 35, 39–40; Novikov, “Bor’ba s bol’shevikami v Novorossiiskom krae,” p. 12. Prince Trubetskoi says that most of the volunteers were to come from among peasant landowners (khleboroby) who sought French protection against Denikin’s Volunteer Army, known for its pillaging the countryside (“Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 195). 27. “Ocherk vzaimootnoshenii vooruzhennykh sil iuga Rossii i predstavitelei frantsuzskago komandovaniia,” 237–41; Denikin did not play the role of a supplicant. On the contrary, he demanded. Trubetskoi recalls his consternation at the tone of Denikin’s telegram to Berthelot which ended with the phrase: “I remind you of your obligation, General” (“Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 197). 28. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 34. 29. Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 194–96; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 259, 266. Denikin suspected that what the French really wanted was to steal the Russian fleet (Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 196, 206; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 206–07). Freydenberg was enraged by Ekaterinodar’s orders given to the White volunteers in Kherson that prohibited sharing provisions with Allied soldiers (Margulies, God interventsii, I, 266). 30. Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 108. 31. On November 26, 1918, Western ambassadors assured Russian politicians that a 100,000–strong Allied army would land in the South within two weeks: Zhurnal Soveshchanii Russkoi Delegatsii v Iassakh, no. 17, Nov. 26 (13), 1918, WMA, file 143. 32. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 75–76. 33. Shulgin’s political outlook is presented more thoroughly in chapters II and V. 34. Grishin-Almazov was under the strong influence or even control of Shulgin: Denikin, Ocherki, V, 17; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 112, 116, 124. He was a young General in his thirties, formerly the Minister of War in the Siberian Government. After Admiral Kolchak’s coup, he was sent by the new dictator as an envoy to Denikin. Soon after his arrival in Ekaterinodar, Denikin delegated him to the Jassy Conference as a representative of the Volunteer Army. This was quite an inappropriate assignment for a newcomer, which showed how little regard had Denikin for the conference.

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35. “Ocherk vzaimootnoshenii vooruzhennykh sil iuga Rossii i predstavitelei frantsuzskago komandovaniia,” 237; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 17; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 108–09; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 76. 36. Although titled Madame Henno, strictly speaking she was not Mrs. Henno yet. Vice-Consul Henno married his Russian companion on February 18, 1919: Margulies, God interventsii, I, 237. 37. Ibid., 107–09. 38. Ibid., 110–12, 125. 39. Ibid., 112. 40. At first on December 21, the Left proposed Liberman, a representative of German colonists from the Kherson province, as the third member of the triumvirate (Margulies, God interventsii, I, 107). Butenko (predsedatel’ Gubernskoi Zemskoi Upravy) appeared as a candidate a day later: ibid., 112; Braikevich, “Iz revoliutsii nam chto-nibud’,” 232–34; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 75–76. 41. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 116; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 76. 42. According to Miakotin and Margulies, the delegation to Lukomskii consisted of three groups: the Union for Regeneration, the National Center and a newly formed organization of self-governments, the Zemstvo-City Union of south Russia (Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 76–77; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 148). The presence of the National Center’s representatives in this delegation is puzzling, for this group always opposed collegial forms of authority. Perhaps the reason for that was that leaders of the National Center were at that time in Ekaterinodar, while its local members (mostly Kadets) were much more leftist, as Miakotin suggests (“Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 86). 43. Braikevich, “Iz revoliutsii nam chto-nibud’,” 232–35. 44. Margulies mentions several times such requests: God interventsii, I, 55 (end of Nov., 1918), 57 (Dec. 3), 72 (Dec. 7), 167–68 (Jan. 19, 1919). 45. Cf. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 17. 46. Ibid., 11, 17–18. 47. Vice-Admiral Neniukov was replaced by rear-Admiral Pokrovskii as the Minister of Maritime Affairs (morskoi ministr), while Kostetskii by Naumov as the Minister of Transportation (Margulies, God interventsii, I, 123). 48. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 147–48, 150; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 77. 49. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 17–18. On Jan. 11, Denikin also wired an order to the Odessa State Bank prohibiting any payments without authorization from Ekaterinodar: Margulies, God interventsii, I, 155. 50. Denikin received many telegrams from Odessa begging him to reverse his order, while Shulgin threatened to resign from the Special Council: Denikin, Ocherki, V, 18; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 156–57. 51. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 20. 52. Ibid., 20–21. Denikin defended this decision by stating that he dissolved all self-governments in the White territory: they were chosen in 1917 under the Provisional Government and their term elapsed on January 1, 1919 (O. S.). Furthermore,

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as he says, the law was not contested elsewhere because with the exception of Odessa, zemstvos and dumas were already dead. But, if this was so, then why was the law needed? If the only reason for it was the desire to bring life and law into conformity, then why was the special situation in Odessa not noticed? Denikin is clearly not convincing, when he tries to prove that he overlooked Odessa during the French intervention. 53. Ibid.; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 174–76, 186; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 85–86; “Informatsiia odesskago otdelenia Natsional’nago tsentra,” Azbuka, Jan. 29, 1919, WMA, file 132. 54. This is how Sannikov was titled by Denikin (Ocherki, V, 20) and in a document prepared by White authorities in Ekaterinodar (“Ocherk vzaimootnoshenii vooruzhennykh sil iuga Rossii i predstavitelei frantsuzskago komandovaniia,” 242, 246). Sannikov was also to replace Grishin-Almazov as the military governor, but d’Anselme refused to recognize Denikin’s right to name a governor in Odessa: A. S. Sannikov, “Vospominaniia, 1918–1919” (MS, Columbia University Russian Archive), 4, quoted by Kenez, Civil War in South Russia, 1919–1920, 186. 55. V. V. Shul’gin to V. A. Stepanov, correspondence, Azbuka report, Odessa, Feb. 6, 1919, Razvedyvatel’nyi otdel, WMA, file 136, p. 3–4. 56. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 184; Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 194. See also Azbuka report, Odessa, (n. d.), WMA, file 132, p. 2. 57. Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 166–67; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 86; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 59–61; P. N. Miliukov to I. I. Petrunkevich, correspondence, Azbuka report, Dec. 4 (Nov. 21), 1918, WMA, file 135. 58. Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 166–67; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 149, 169. 217. 59. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 113–14, 120; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 79–81. The Union for Regeneration already raised this question on Dec. 3, 1918 (Margulies, God interventsii, I, 55). 60. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 120–21; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 79–81; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 25. Miakotin calls it the Special Council (Osoboe Soveshchanie). 61. For example, see “Ot Slovo,” Azbuka report, Ekaterinodar, Feb. 15 (2), 1919, WMA, file 167; Vserossiiskii Natsional’nyi Tsentr, Zhurnal obshchago Sobraniia, no. 20, Ekaterinodar, Apr. 26 (12), 1919, WMA, file 129. 62. “Informatsia Odessago Otdela N.Ts.,” Azbuka report, Odessa, Jan. 25 (12), 1919, WMA, file 132 and file 146; Denikin, Ocherki, V; 22. After Novgorotsev and Volkov left, the leadership of the Odessa National Center included i.a., P. A. Buryshkin, M. V. Chelnokov, Col. B. A. Engel’gardt, Col. I. M. Novikov. 63. Denikin, Ocherki, V; 22–23. 64. Braikevich, “Iz revoliutsii nam chto-nibud’,” 236; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 5, 264. The Zemstvo-City Council of South Russia (Sovet zemstv i gorodov Iuga Rossii) is often called in sources the Zemstvo-City Union (Zemskoe i gorodskoe ob”edinenie or Zemskii i gorodskii soiuz): Gukovskii, Frantsuzskaia interventsiiai, 54; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 148, 198; and many intelligence reports,

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for example: Novikov, “Bor’ba s bol’shevikami v Novorossiiskom krae,” p. 7; Azbuka report, no. 11, Odessa, Jan. 19, 1919, WMA, file 149, p. 2; and two Azbuka reports, “Informatsiia Odesskago Otdeleniia Natsional’nago Tsentra,” Odessa, Jan. 25, and Jan. 29, 1919, WMA, file 132. The Zemstvo-City Union, however had existed before the Simferopol Congress took place as a southern branch of the all-Russian Zemstvo-City Union (Vserossiiskoe zemsko-gorodskoe Ob”edinenie): Zhurnal osobago Soveshchaniia no. 3, Oct. 5, 1918, p. 1, and no. 4, Oct. 9, 1918, p. 8, Wrangel Private Archive, file 1; see also Kenez, Civil War in South Russia, 1918, 206. Thus the identification of the Union and the Council must have been a mistake which could easily occur considering that the same people were active in both organizations. However, Denikin, who earlier mentions the Union, uses the name Sovet zemstv i gorodov Iuga Rossii when he talks about the organization that emerged at the Simferopol Congress (Cf. Ocherki, IV, 185 and V, 24–25). And so does Miakotin (“Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 5, 264, and NChS 6, 81). 65. Margulies asserts that the Congress had seventy-one delegates: sixty-five were socialists, one Kadet (Braikevich) and three or four participants without party affiliation; only two represented zemstvos (God interventsii, I, 58, 98–99). Braikevich, who participated in it, relates the following composition of the Congress: the Socialist Revolutionaries and Mensheviks had thirty delegates each; the Kadets nine, and Popular Socialists five. Together there were seventy-four participants (“Iz revoliutsii nam chto-nibud’,” 236). 66. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 58. 67. Braikevich, “Iz revoliutsii nam chto-nibud’,” 236–39; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 5, 264–65; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 24. 68. According to Denikin the composition of the Bureau was as follows: (1) Socialist Revolutionaries: Rudnev, Gots, N. V. Makeev; (2) Mensheviks: Rubinshtein, Korabkov; (3) Popular Socialists: S. Ia. Elpat’evskii, M. V. Bernshtam, and (4) Kadets: Braikevich and Kondrat’ev (Ocherki, V, 25). See also Gukovskii, Frantsuzskaia interventsiia, 55. 69. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 24. See also Margulies, God interventsii, I, 197. 70. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 24. Even Miakotin admits a close relationship between both organizations (“Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 5, 264). Cf. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 22–23. For the political program of the Union for Regeneration see previous chapters. 71. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 73–75; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 24; Gukovskii, Frantsuzskaia interventsiia, 55–56. 72. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 80–81. 73. I. Novikov, “Informatsiia Odesskago Otdeleniia Natsional’nago Tsentra,” Azbuka report, Odessa, Jan. 30, 1919, WMA, file 132; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 19–21; Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 198; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 125, 150, 154, 168. 74. I. Novikov, “Informatsiia Odesskago Otdeleniia Natsional’nago Tsentra”; Azbuka report no. 11, Odessa, Feb. 1, 1919, WMA, file 149, p. 3; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 25–26; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 87–88; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 168.

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75. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 121. Two other members of the Commission were A. S. Khripunov from the State Unity Council and Count P. M. Tolstoi from the Union for Regeneration. 76. Ibid. 148–49, 157, 168–69, 177. 77. Ibid., 168–69, 184, 174. Two other meetings of the Council were on Jan. 27 and 31. For the project of South-Russian authority advocated by the Union for Regeneration at the Jassy Conference, see the preceding chapter. 78. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 88; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 25–26; Azbuka report no. 11, Odessa, Feb. 1, p. 3–4. 79. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 187–89; Azbuka report no. 11, Odessa, Feb. 1, p. 3; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 26. 80. Miakotin discreetly passes in silence over the first two demands of the National Center, and focuses only on the third. In his summary, the proposal of the Union for Regeneration included both points, i.e., the presence of the Volunteer Army’s representatives in the State Conference, as well as non-subordination of the Directory to any other authority except for a future Constituent Assembly (“Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 88–89). However, an Azbuka report, written just a few days after the Union’s proposal was presented at the Council of Four, clearly states that these points were not in the original version of the Union’s proposal, but were included at the National Center’s request: Azbuka report no. 11, Odessa, Feb. 1, p. 3. See also Denikin, Ocherki, V, 26. 81. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 22, 26. The south-Russian faction of the National Center led by Shulgin condemned it (“Rezoliutsiia,” Azbuka report, Odessa, Feb. 11, 1919, WMA, file 132). The National Center was so ashamed that it sometimes denied it ever agreed to a directory: “Natsional’nyi Tsentr i ego deiatel’nost’,” Azbuka report, Apr. 8, 1919, WMA, file 129, pp. 3–4. 82. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 26; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 89–90; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 246; Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 167–68. Views of the Odessa National Center and State Unity Council on this question were not fixed. Their final version of the special powers that the commander-inchief should enjoy among the directors appeared only on Feb. 24. 83. Miakotin asserts that the Left only refused to accept the commander’s exclusive right to choose the strategy (opredelenie teatra voennykh deistvii), but agreed on the rest (“Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 90). However, a statement of the State Unity Council, released after the talks of the four organizations were broken, says that the appointment of higher officers and the introduction of martial law were the main subjects of contention with the Left: Denikin, Ocherki, V, 28. See also ibid., 26; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 246, 299, and Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 167–69. 84. Denikin remarks that he respected both Astrov and Fundaminskii, but knowing conditions in the South, he would have been able neither to preserve the power of the Directory nor guarantee the personal safety of one of its members, Fundaminskii, who was a Jew (Ocherki, V, 28). 85. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 90; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 27–28. The electoral law according to the Left and Center should be based on four

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principles: universal, direct, equal, and secret ballot. The Right wanted an exception for the countryside where elections should have two stages. There is not much evidence on the labor question. It seems that the propositions of the Left were along the lines discussed earlier, i.e., right to form labor unions and to strike. 86. A rejection note was signed on behalf of the “united governments of Siberia, Archangel and Southern Russia”: Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States: Russia, 1919, 53–54. For an account of a failed conference on Prinkipo Island, see Ullman, Britain and the Russian Civil War, II, 99–135; John M. Thompson, Russia, Bolshevism, and the Versailles Peace (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1966), 82–130; B. Ponomaryov, et al., History of Soviet Foreign Policy, 1917–1945 (Moscow, 1969), 569–99. 87. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 212, and two Azbuka reports from Odessa in WMA, file 132: Novikov, “Informatsiia Odesskago Otdeleniia Natsional’nago Tsentra,” Jan. 30, 1919; Oko, Feb. 5 (Jan. 23), 1919. 88. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 196–98, 217. 89. In his diary, Margulies mentions only five names: Miakotin, A. V. Peshekhonov, Elpat’evskii, Bunakov-Fundaminskii, Rubinshtein (God interventsii, I, 217). 90. Novikov, “Informatsiia Odesskago Otdeleniia Natsional’nago Tsentra” Jan. 30, 1919; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 22; “Vserossiiskii Natsional’nyi Tsentr o soveshchanii na Printsevykh ostrovakh,” Feb. 1, 1919, WMA, file 129. 91. Novikov, “Bor’ba s bol’shevikami v Novorossiiskom krae,” pp. 6–7. Denikin admits that he carefully studied information about the work of the Council of Four (Ocherki, V, 28). 92. After a visit in Ekaterinodar, Iurenev from the National Center delivered these news on Feb. 24, at the joint meeting of the Center and the State Unity Council: Margulies, God interventsii, I, 246. 93. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 89; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 26. 94. Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 90–93; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 24, 26–27. It had largely a symbolic meaning, for all the Kadets had already deserted the Union. 95. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 27–28. 96. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 191. Cf. Shul’gin to Stepanov, correspondence, Feb. 6, 1919, pp. 1–7. 97. In mid-January: Trubetskoi, “Iz putevykh zametok bezhentsa,” 198–99; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 206–10. 98. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 20–22. 99. “Informatsiia Odesskago Otdeleniia Natsional’nago Tsentra,” Azbuka report, Odessa, Feb. 18 (3), 1919, WMA, file 132, p. 2; Azbuka report no. 121, Odessa, Mar. 1, 1919, Razvedyvatel’nyi otdel, WMA, file 151, pp. 4–7; Shul’gin to Stepanov, correspondence, Feb. 6, 1919, pp. 3–4, 7; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 22, 36. 100. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 29–31, 35–36; “Obzor deiatel’nosti Ukrainskoi Narodnoi Gromady g. Odessy,” Azbuka report, Odessa, (n. d.), WMA file 132; Azbuka report no. 121, Mar. 1, 1919, pp. 1–3. For detailed accounts of French-Ukrainian negotiations conducted in February, see Brinkley, Volunteer Army, 113–15, 122–26; Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 147–51; Procyk, Russian Nationalism, 105–18.

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101. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 229–30, 260, 264, 279, 285, 292; Azbuka report no. 121, Mar. 1, 1919, p. 3; “Informatsiia Odesskago Otdeleniia Natsional’nago Tsentra,” p. 1. 102. On Feb. 24, 1919, Freydenberg had a long conversation with Shulgin, testing his views on such topics as cooperation with the Ukrainian Directory, the mixed brigades, a new government in the South, etc. Shulgin again proved his impeccable loyalty to Denikin, which must have been very disappointing to Freydenberg: Azbuka report no. 121, Mar. 1, 1919, pp. 4–7. 103. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 253–56, 283, 186. 104. Ibid. 256–58; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 36; Azbuka report no. 121, Mar. 1, 1919, p. 3; Azbuka report, Odessa, Mar. 8 (Feb. 23), 1919, WMA, file 132, pp. 2–4. 105. Andro, a rich landlord from Volynia, previously worked in the Skoropadskyi administration. In Odessa, he claimed to have French ancestors and used the name de Langeron and the title Baron. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 122–23, 188, 226, 230, 287, 299, 310; “Soobshchenie generala A. S. Sannikova o polozhenii v Odesse,” Azbuka, Razvedyvatel’nyi otdel, WMA, file 134, pp. 3–4; “Ekstrennoe soveshchanie,” Azbuka report, Odessa, Mar. 14, 1919, WMA, file 132. 106. “Kratkaia zapiska o sobytiiakh v Odesse c 4/17 Dekabria 1918 po 14/27 Marta 1919 goda,” Azbuka report, WMA, file 132, p. 4; Novikov, “Bor’ba s bol’shevikami v Novorossiiskom krae,” pp. 14–16; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 93–95. See also Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 160–64. 107. “Komandovanie Soiuznymi Armiiami na Iuge Rossii: prilozhenie,” no. 1, 2, 3, copies of French orders, Mar. 13, 1919, Razvedyvatel’nyi otdel, WMA, file 134; “Ekstrennoe soveshchanie,” Azbuka report, Odessa, Mar. 14, 1919; Denikin, Ocherki, V. 46; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 310; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 95–96. At the request of Workers’ and Soldiers’ Deputies in Riga, Shvarts had agreed to defend the city against the Germans in the spring of 1918. This was the cause of Denikin’s accusation that Shvarts collaborated with the Bolsheviks (Margulies, God interventsii, I, 224–25). 108. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 310–11. 109. Otdel propagandy, intelligence report no. 78, Mar. 21, 1919, WMA, file 164; “Soobshchenie generala A. S. Sannikova o polozhenii v Odesse,” p. 4; Braikevich, “Iz revoliutsii nam chto-nibud’,” 247–48; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 96; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 46–47. 110. Novikov, “Bor’ba s bol’shevikami v Novorossiiskom krae,” p. 19; Brinkley, The Volunteer Army, 344–45. 111. Margulies, God interventsii, I, 314–17; Braikevich, “Iz revoliutsii nam chtonibud’,” 248–49; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 47; “Kratkiie svedeniia o deiatel’nosti ‘Soveta Gosudarstvennago Ob”edineniia,’“ Azbuka report, WMA, file 129, p. 8; Azbuka report, Odessa, Mar. 29 (16), 1919, WMA, file 132, p. 7. 112. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 48. 113. Ibid., 49; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 356; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 96. Other members of the Committee: Shvarts, in charge of military affairs, he still hesitated whether to accept the offer; P. M. Rutenberg, the assassin of Father G. Gapon, appointed the head of the Department of Labor and Supply at

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Shvarts’ request, and a certain K. Ia. Il’iashenko-Siniagovskii, in charge of the State Control. 114. “Ocherk vzaimootnoshenii vooruzhennykh sil iuga Rossii i predstavitelei frantsuzskago komandovaniia,” 248; “Vzaimootnosheniia soiuznikov z Dobrovol’cheskoi Armiei,” Dec. 17 (4), 1918–Mar. 27 (14), 1919, Azbuka report, WMA, file 167, p. 2. In his Ocherki, V, 46, Denikin dates his telegram on March 18. 115. Denikin, Ocherki, V, 49. 116. ”Komandovanie Soiuznymi Armiiami na Iuge Rossii: prilozhenie,” no. 6, 7, translated copies of French orders, Mar. 21, 1919; Novikov, “Bor’ba s bol’shevikami v Novorossiiskom krae,” pp. 20–21; “Soobshchenie generala A. S. Sannikova o polozhenii v Odesse,” pp. 4; “Vzaimootnosheniia soiuznikov z Dobrovol’cheskoi Armiei,” p . 3; Denikin, Ocherki, V, 49–51; Miakotin, “Iz nedalekago proshlago,” NChS 6, 96–97; Margulies, God interventsii, I, 356–57. See also Brinkley, The Volunteer Army, 127–31. 117. For a description of the final days in Odessa, see “Ocherk vzaimootnoshenii vooruzhennykh sil iuga Rossii i predstavitelei frantsuzskago komandovaniia,” 249–255; Brinkley, Volunteer Army, 132–38; Carley, Revolution and Intervention, 164–76.

Chapter VII

Conclusions

The leaders of the anti-Bolshevik political opposition had the deeply ingrained conviction that as representatives of Russian civil society, they were the genuine representation of the nation, and so bore responsibility for ridding Russia of the Soviet regime and for ushering in the rebirth of an all-Russian government and state. Nearly one and a half years passed before they lost their prestige and their hopes turned to ruins. The obvious question that arises is, why? In seeking the causes for that failure which lay within antiBolshevik elites themselves, one must point out two fundamental weaknesses, which were the root-causes for all the other blunders: first, the elites profound internal division, and, second their devotion to the restoration of the Russian Empire rather than a state. In reference to the first issue, one should keep in mind the basic assumption of the anti-Bolshevik political opposition, namely that in the face of the mortal threat posed to Russia and the civilized world in general, all differences among Russians became meaningless, and that all should be united against it. That was the foundation for their claim that the efforts of a united civil society to restore authority in Russia were legitimate. Yet, in spite of that claim, they remained divided into multiparty organizations of the Left, Center and Right. Furthermore, they clang to their ideological dogmas and so were unable to transcend old, pre-revolutionary prejudices, and the new biases resulting from the orientation controversy. They were disloyal to each other and, in certain circumstances, ready to betray agreed compromises for partisan gains. The Left distrusted the Right because it saw it as class enemies and suspected that it desired to restore the Old Regime. The Right viewed the Left as doctrinaire, willing to risk Russia’s good for the sake of achieving various points of its ideological platform. Both sought to win the National 157

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Center over to their side, not understanding, or not willing to acknowledge that the Kadets were playing the role of Denikin’s “fifth column.” Finally, both did not try to build upon what they had in common—the conviction that any Russian government had to be formed by or at least be in partnership with civil society’ political elites, a distrust of Denikin and his administration, a more conciliatory attitude toward federalism, and their somewhat greater understanding and willingness to accommodate nationalities in the borderlands. The elites, as a whole played politics as usual and so bore full responsibility for the consequences of their disunity and blindness. Together they had some chances for turning their project into reality; divided, they had no chance at all. As for the second weakness, their attachment to Russia as a great power and an empire rather than a state, in this respect, they demonstrated rare unanimity. They all aimed at preserving Russia’s territorial integrity, without regard for the will of the nations and nationalities who lived in the former Empire. Although the Right, during the Kiev period, was ready to accommodate Ukraine’s national aspirations and regional interests in general, that was an exception rather than a rule. The rule was that the political elites pretended either not to see the nationality question or to see it in terms of national betrayal in a time of war. Furthermore, their attachment to Russia maintaining its great power status led them, at first, to compromise some of their beliefs and, ultimately, to betray them entirely. In this respect, the Kadets are the best example of that process, although no multiparty organization was fully free from it. The Kadets began as the party of individual rights, civil liberties and the rule of law, and they ended up in the service of a petty tyrant because he promised to bring Russia back as a “great, one and indivisible” state. For the restoration of the empire and for the sake of its might, the political elites sacrificed a unique opportunity to turn Russia’s subjects into citizens, and thus to establish a civic space which would be the foundation for freedom. In this respect, they behaved like so many democrats in today’s Russian Federation who support presidential authority because it tries to make Russia powerful again. That is why there was no enthusiasm in the borderlands to fight for Russia; that is why the Whites had to fight alone against the Bolsheviks, and that is why they had to fight a parallel war with the nationalities. It is strange indeed, that with some notable exceptions, the leaders of the multiparty organizations, seasoned politicians as they were, did not uncover the reasons lying behind the indifference or hostility of the borderland peoples toward the White movement. With respect to both fundamental weaknesses of the anti-Bolshevik political opposition and their consequences, the Kadets deserve special attention.

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During the Civil War no other group within that opposition was as active as they were. The Kadets participated in every multiparty organization and dominated over one of them, the National Center; they were also well placed in Denikin’s administration and had their own network of international contacts. Furthermore, they were the best educated men and women in Russia, and perhaps, they were the best of what Russia had. More than any other political group, the Kadets held the key to potential success of the elites as a whole. They could have played the crucial role of a bridge between the Right and Left and thus helped to unite the political representatives of civil society. Together with the Right and Left, they could have pressured Denikin to compromise on civilian authority, on the nationality question, on alliance of the South against the Bolsheviks, as well as on a host of other issues. Yet, they did nothing of that kind. On the contrary, they did just opposite. They supported Denikin’s policies in spite of elites’ explicit interests as a whole and, in exchange, they were rewarded with power in Ekaterinodar—their “Mecca,” as sarcastic observers remarked. The services which the Kadets rendered to Denikin did not entirely stem from opportunistic reasons. In fact, it is astounding to observe how much the liberals had in common with a “simple, garrison general.” They shared with Denikin an eagerness for the preservation of Russia as a great power and the vision of a centralized state ruled from Moscow. Like him, they displayed greed for power, hostility toward any sign of separatism and intolerance for even local ambitions. Finally, both Denikin and the Kadets hid behind the non-predetermination principle to avoid land reform and any other difficult undertaking. In spite of their liberal past and credentials, the Kadets turned into ardent nationalists when their national pride was hurt by Russia’s powerlessness and by the revival of national feeling among the peoples in the borderlands. In this respect they were similar to many Western liberals, who during the rise of nationalism in the mid-nineteen century, likewise turned into nationalists. Yet contrary to them, the Kadets aimed at building not only a nation-state, but also at preserving a multinational empire. These goals involved a fundamental contradiction of which the Kadets could not have been unaware. Their rank and file included the best minds in Russia who, unlike Denikin, could not have plead ignorance to the basic inconsistency between building a nation-state and an empire, particularly if that empire was to be located not overseas, but within state borders. The nationalism and imperialism of the Kadets explains the basic inconsistencies in their behavior during the Civil War: their unequivocal support for the Army, its commander and strong dictatorial authority; their vision of imposing state order from above; their aversion to land reform introduced under the pressure from below; and finally,

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their rejection of federalism and hostility toward national movements in the borderlands. Their support for Denikin in all these issues deprived them of the right to call themselves liberals and at the same time made them coresponsible for the collapse of the White movement. Yet, irrespective of the weaknesses in Russian society and its elites, it is difficult to deny one central conclusion: their efforts could not have succeeded in any case without the loyal collaboration of the command of the Volunteer Army. Since the Russian elites did not possess its own power apparatus, nor its own military force, its claim to political leadership in the struggle against the Bolshevik regime could rest only on its moral and spiritual authority. For their part, the military could recognize this authority as legitimate and submit to its control, or they could deny its mandate and repudiate it. From its inception, the Volunteer Army had emphasized its role as the last bulwark of true Russia. In an ocean of class and regional “egoism,” as well as national treason, it fought exclusively to save the Motherland. The White Army was thus not merely an armed force, but also, as its leadership and the rank and file claimed, the highest moral authority in the nation. Those claims, perhaps sincere and innocuous at the beginning, with time evolved into a de facto nationalistic ideology and imperial policy. That explains why Denikin scorned offers of cooperation from Ukraine, the Don and from others, and why he treated with contempt any signs of regionalism. Furthermore, having the Army’s prestige at his disposal, Denikin displayed no fear in thwarting the efforts of the multiparty organizations which aimed at the restoration of a state authority, particularly that he had unreserved support of the Kadets. Constrained by the Army’s ideology, which renounced politics as a principle, he was unable to reveal his ambitions and was compelled to wait until the reputation of the political elites wore thin. After the withdrawal of the French from Odessa his success was complete. Although his government in Ekaterinodar was still called “the Special Council” and he himself carried only the military title of “commander-in-chief,” it was Denikin who had supreme authority in the South. Great tactical victories notwithstanding, Denikin and his advisors bear the primary responsibility for the downfall of the Whites. The White movement emerged as a patriotic reaction to the disintegration of the Russian Army, its ensuing total defeat in the World War, and to the Bolshevik Revolution which resulted in the collapse of Russian statehood. The nucleus of the movement, the Volunteer Army and the political elites garnered the best elements in Russian civil society who wanted to fight against the Bolsheviks either with arms in hand or with their minds. For about a year and half, the military and political elements of the movement competed with each other as to who would restore an all-Russian authority and what would be its

Conclusions

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shape. The representatives of society miserably lost that contest and all their efforts were spent in vain, while the military won. That success was, however, a Pyrrhic victory, for the movement as a whole lost the opportunity to unite the entire South against the Bolsheviks, did not take advantage of the Allied intervention in Odessa, and distinctly weakened itself vis-à-vis the Soviet regime. The spirit of extreme partisanship and petty jealousy displayed on both competing sides, as well as among the political elites themselves prove that, at least up to the spring of 1919, the Bolsheviks were de facto not considered by the Whites as their principal enemy. All the cries about the mortal danger posed by the Bolsheviks to Russia, all the prophecies of an approaching doomsday for Western civilization and all the pleas for help from the West were largely insincere. In fact, the Whites seemed to view the Bolsheviks as a secondary or even a third rate threat. Internal rivals for power in a restored Russian Empire appeared as the first and the nationalities as the second. Otherwise, how can we explain the behavior of the “Titanic’s passengers” who instead of fighting together to save themselves, fought among themselves for the honor of being the savior of the shipwreck? Between the fall of 1917 and the spring of 1919, the nature of the White movement underwent profound changes. The initial patriotism and idealism of the Whites gradually turned into nationalism and a desire to restore the Russian Empire. The chief promoter of that policy was Denikin, while the Kadets in the National Center were his willing collaborators. With respect to the nationalities and those who desired a federal Russia, other political parties in multiparty organizations did not fare much better. Thus, from a patriotic force defending its homeland, the White movement rapidly transformed into a force for Russian nationalism and imperialism, hostile to everything which stood in its way. This is why the Whites antagonized all of their potential allies, including the French. As a result, they remained alone against the Bolsheviks. Perhaps this is the principal reason why they lost.

Bibliography

UNPUBLISHED MATERIALS Hoover Institution Archives, Stanford University, California Cheriachukin, A. V. Papers. 1 folder. Don Cossacks Republic. Papers. Kornilov, L. G. Papers. 1 folder. Maklakov, V. A. Papers. A large collection (22 boxes) containing Maklakov’s private correspondence (1917–1956) as well as papers of the Russian Embassy in France (1917–1924). Some include documents, reports, correspondence, and clippings on relations between the South and Western Europe, late 1917—early 1919. Russia. Posol’stvo (France). A large collection (36 boxes) containing papers of the Russian Embassy in France (1917–1924). Wrangel, P. N. Archives. A huge collection (several hundred boxes) containing three separate archives: Wrangel Military Archive (WMA), Wrangel Private Archive (WPA) and the Archive of his mother Mariia Wrangel. I used extensively the first two archives. Both have misleading names as both contain private and official papers. Moreover, a large segment of WMA includes documents, reports, correspondence, clippings, etc from the Alekseev-Denikin period. For all practical purposes the third archive is inaccessible, as it has no register or even preliminary inventory.

MANUSCRIPTS Guchkov, A. I. “Bor’ba v Rossii s bol’shevizmom i eia perspektivy.” Jan. 1919, WMA 152.

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Index

Ageev, P. M., 22 Akatsatov, M. E., 65, 66, 68, 92n13, 95n38 Aleksandr Mikhailovich, Grand Duke, 75 Alekseev, Mikhail V., 4, 20–22, 28, 32n46, 33n49, 36–38, 41, 44–46, 52n11, 62, 63, 65, 67, 81, 93n21, 93n23, 106, 107 Alexander II, 9 All-Russian Government, restoration of, 18, 37, 42–45, 59, 78, 84, 103, 104, 108 Allied intervention, 2, 4–7, 40, 145n3 (see also Western Allies); expectation of, 2, 24, 43, 50, 53n17, 76, 77, 82, 85, 86, 103, 112, 117, 143; military command, 104, 119, 122–26, 128, 131, 139, 140–42, 147n7; in Odessa region, 34n59, 117–30, 134, 137–46, 149n26, 149n29, 160, 161 Andro, D. F. (de Langeron), 91n2, 140–42, 155n105 Anselme, Philippe Henri d’, 122, 123, 140–42, 151n54 Archangel, 57n60 Argunov, A. A., 33n54, 42

Association Rus’ (Obshchestvo Rus’). See nationalists Astrakhan Army. See officers Astrov, N. I., 38, 41, 42, 44, 52n10, 53n20, 80, 85, 116n38, 132, 135, 153n84 Auritti, Giacinto, 102 Avksent’ev, N. D., 42, 44, 56n45 Azbuka, 34n59, 80, 81, 96n50, 98n72, 98n73 Balashev, P. N., 12, 13, 30n11, 64 Baltic States, 19 Barcley, George, 102 Belorussov, A. S., 52n6, 53n20 Berdiaev, N. A., 38, 51n5, 52n6 Bernshtam, M. V., 152n68 Berthelot, Henri, 119, 122, 124, 125, 147n7, 148n15, 148n21, 149n27 Bessarabia, 12, 13 Bezak, F. N., 12, 30n11, 64, 71, 91n8, 96n55, 97n56 Biskupskii, 120 Bobrinskii, A. A., 75, 76, 96n55 Bobrinskii, V. A., 12, 13, 64, 65, 66 Boldyrev, V. G., 44, 54n31, 56n45, 56n49, 105–7

173

174

Index

Bolsheviks, 17, 18, 32n34, 122; Cheka and, 39, 48, 50, 57n61, 58n72; Constituent Assembly and, 17, 18, 27, 106; coup of, 17, 19, 29, 37; Germans and, 17, 18, 19, 66, 74, 81, 103, 118; Soviets and, 17, 32n35; terror of, 17, 32n37, 39, 48; Ukraine and, 19, 61, 66–68, 70; as ultimate enemy, 2–3, 28, 36, 50, 74, 107, 118, 145, 157, 161 Borius, Albert, 121, 122, 126, 128, 148n15 Braikevich, M. V., 109, 110, 113n7, 127, 128, 133, 141, 142, 152n65 Brest-Litovsk Peace, 17–19, 25, 32n41, 39, 40, 43, 52n13, 66, 74, 101, 104, 118 Brusilov, A. A., 39, 51n4 Bulgaria, 119 Bunakov-Fundaminskii, I. I., 102, 106–9, 113n7, 135, 154n89 Burke, Edmund, 74 Buryshkin, P. A., 14, 151n62 Butenko, E. N., 127, 142, 150n40 Chaikovskii, N. V., 33n54, 42, 44, 56n45, 56n52 Cheka, (All-Russian Extraordinary Commission to Combat Counterrevolution and Sabotage). See Bolsheviks Chekhivskyi, V. M., 149n24 Cheliabinsk, 48 Chelishchev, V. N., 80, 132 Cherven-Vodali, A. A., 52n6, 80, 132 Chkheidze, N. S., 15 Clemençeau, George, 118, 119, 122, 136, 147n7, 148n19, 148n20 Club of Russian Nationalists. See nationalists Constantinople, 48 Constituent Assembly, 15, 17–19, 26–29, 31n20, 34n56, 41, 43–45, 47, 65, 81, 106, 107, 135, 136, 153n80 Constitutional Democrats. See Kadets

Cossacks, 67; Don, 19, 20–22, 24–27, 36, 37, 41, 46, 64, 66, 68–70, 72, 76, 78, 79, 88, 93n22, 95n35, 97n64, 105, 106, 108, 119, 123, 134, 149n25, 160; Kuban, 19, 20, 24–27, 29, 33n49, 41, 48, 63, 66, 67, 70, 76, 108, 123, 134, 149n25; White Army and, 19–22, 24–27, 29, 35n62, 36, 37, 41, 66–70, 72, 88, 93n22, 97n64, 134, 160 Council of Four Organizations. See Odessa Council of Members of Legislative Chambers. See Legislative Chambers Council of the State Defense. See monarchists Crimea, 67–69, 75, 88, 126, 127, 132, 132, 142 Czechoslovaks, 18, 32n41, 45 Decembrist Uprising, 9 Demchenko, V. I., 114n8 Denikin, Anton I.: as commander-inchief, 25, 26, 28, 68, 69, 88, 97n64, 111, 120, 143, 144; as leader of the Whites, 3, 5, 7n2, 13, 19, 25, 26–29, 34n57, 40, 46, 56n49, 62, 63, 66, 68–72, 79, 80, 93n23, 94n30, 94n31, 102, 109, 118, 119, 124, 130, 133, 145; military dictatorship of, 26, 28, 44, 62, 84, 86, 90, 105, 106, 108, 109, 111, 112, 125, 129, 131, 135, 139; monarchism and monarchists, and, 27, 28, 41, 65–67, 82, 93n22, 105; nationalism of, 13, 26, 27, 29, 88, 159, 160; personality of, 23–24, 34n58–59, 35n60, 92n11; politics and, 4, 13, 22–24, 28, 29, 33n52, 41, 42, 46, 49, 62, 63, 65, 73, 76, 78, 81, 83, 84, 86, 88–90, 93n22, 103, 105, 110–12, 124–26, 128, 132–35, 138–41, 144, 149n34, 150n50, 150n52, 158–61; Western Allies and, 25, 27, 124, 125, 128–30, 136, 137, 139–43, 146, 147n11, 149n27,

Index

149n29, 151n54, 160; White Army’s origins and, 20, 22, 23, 25, 34n57 Ditmar, N. F. von, 114n8 Dolgorukov, A. N., 64, 71, 72, 92n9, 93n19 Dolgorukov, P. D., 57n61, 89, 132, 165 Dragomirov, A. M., 33n48, 46, 93n22, 97n64, 105 Duma. See Legislative Chambers Effimovskii, A. E., 81, 98n74 Elpat’evskii, S. Ia., 152n68, 154n89 Ekaterinodar, 24–26, 46, 48, 57n62, 78–80, 83–85, 90, 97n63, 97n64, 110–12, 114, 118, 120, 124, 125, 128–30, 132–44, 159, 160 England. See Great Britain Entente. See Western Allies Erlich, 120 Espérey, Louis Franchet d’, 104, 119, 122, 124, 142, 147n7, 148n19, 148n21 February Revolution, 5, 10, 16, 25, 31n19, 38, 60, 63, 65 Federalism: opposing, 11, 20, 42, 61, 71, 72, 78, 159–61; supporting, 20, 42, 55n33, 61, 75, 78, 89, 158 Fedorov, M. M., 20, 22, 38, 41, 53n20, 58n64, 80, 82–84, 102, 105, 106, 108, 109, 113n7, 115n23, 132 Finland, 11, 17, 19 Foch, Ferdinand, 124 France, 102, 119, 120, 122, 125, 146n3 French intervention. See Allied intervention Freydenberg, Henri, 122–24, 139, 141, 148n18, 149n29, 155n102 Fundamental Laws of 1906, 9 Galievskii, 114n16 Gapon, G. A., 155n113 Geiden, D. F., 61, 91n2, 91n4 Gerasimov, P. V., 58n67

175

Germany (see also orientation controversy): Central Powers, 24–26, 39, 60, 76, 103, 119; defeat of, 26, 46, 62, 67, 76; German Army, 16, 60, 68–70, 72, 77, 83, 85, 95n44; pro-German groups, 27, 59, 61, 65, 67, 71, 73, 81; in Ukraine, 59–72 Gizhitskii, A. S., 12, 30n11, 64 Golitsyn, A. D., 61, 77, 91n4, 91n6 Gosudarstvennost’, 42, 54n28, 76 Gots, 152n68 Great Britain, 102, 118, 120, 146n3 Grigor’ev, 140 Grigorenko, B. F., 91n2, 140 Grigorovich-Barskii, K. P., 91n8 Grishin-Almazov, N. N., 102, 114n8, 121, 126–31, 133, 134, 138, 140–42, 148n34, 151n54 Guchkov, A. I., 13, 30n2 Gurko, V. I., 38, 39, 52n6, 53n24, 54n32, 78, 79, 96n46, 96n54, 97n56, 97n63–64, 102–5, 109, 110, 113n7, 147n4 Henno, Emile, 101–3, 113n3, 114n12, 120–22, 126, 127, 129, 131, 147n11, 147n12 Henno, Mme, 127, 150n35 Il’iashenko-Siniagovskii, K. Ia., 156n113 Il’in, N. S., 102, 113n5, 114n8 Irkutsk, 126 Iskritskii, M. A., 97n56 Iudenich, N. N., 51n4 Ivanov, N. I., 68, 105 Jassy Conference, 4, 6, 7, 79, 83, 84, 87, 90, 91, 101–13, 119–21, 125–27, 130, 131, 133, 134, 144, 147n4, 149n34; Russian National Council (Russkii Natsional’nyi Sovet) at, 102 Jews, 11, 12, 30n1, 153n84

176

Index

Kadets (Constitutional Democrats), 6; 10–13, 18, 19, 37, 38, 52n6, 53n16, 53n20, 56n45, 81, 132; Denikin and, 27, 29, 63, 78, 90, 111, 132, 144, 158–60; in National Center, 12, 13, 41, 42, 48, 55n43, 57n61, 58n67, 61, 64, 79, 82, 83, 111, 132, 144, 150n42, 159, 161; nationalism of, 11,12, 14, 61, 158, 159; program of, 11, 12, 14, 28, 30n3, 42, 48, 54n28, 158; Provisional Government and, 15, 16, 27; State Unity Council and, 12, 79, 90, 145; Union for the Regeneration of Russia and, 12, 42, 54n32, 85, 100n92, 111, 116n38, 154n94, 145, 154n94; White Army and, 12; 20, 22, 23, 79; ZemstvoCity Council and, 132, 133, 152n65, 152n68 Kaledin, A. M., 21, 22, 24, 37 Kaplan, Fanya, 48 Katenin, 91n8 Kazan, 18 Keller, Fedor, 64, 65, 67, 70–72, 92n11, 93n19, 93n21, 95n37–38 Kerensky, Aleksander F., vii, 15–17, 21, 22, 32n32 Kharkov, 119, 127 Kherson, 123, 125, 140, 149n29, 150n40 Khliboroby (khleboroby). See Ukraine Khomiakov, N. A., 109, 113n7 Kiev, 2, 4–6, 12–14, 23, 46, 48, 59, 62–64, 67–73, 75–80, 82–87, 89–91, 101, 109, 117, 119–21, 125, 127, 130–32, 146n1, 147n11, 158 Kiev Club of Russian Nationalists. See nationalists Kievan National Center. See National Center Kievlianin, 13, 80, 81 Kirpichev, 94n24 Kishkin, N. M., 44 Kochubei, 96n55

Kolczak, Alexander V., 3, 28, 44; coup of, 5, 19, 46, 91, 111, 149n34; Government of, 7n2, 49, 136, 145 Kondrat’ev, 152n68 Konovalov, A. I., 14 Konovnits, 91n2 Korabkov, 152n68 Kornilov, Lavr G., 16, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25, 33n56, 34n57, 46, 47, 56n52 Kostroma, 47 Kotliarevskii, S. A., 52n8, 58n66, 58n68 Kotov-Konashevich, 91n8 Krasnov, P. N., 19, 24, 25, 64, 66–68, 70, 73, 79, 88, 89, 92n12, 93n22, 94n25, 105, 106 Krivoshein, A. V., 15, 30n2, 30n17, 38, 39, 53n24, 73–75, 77, 91n8, 96n46, 96n50, 102, 109, 110, 113n7 Krovopuskov, K. R., 104, 109, 113n7, 115n18 Krupenskii, P. N., 12, 13, Kryzhanovskii, S. E., 75, 76, 92n8, 96n46, 97n56 Kuskova, E. D., 33n54 Landowners. See Ukraine Left Center. See Union for the Regeneration of Russia Legislative Chambers: Council of Members of, 76–78, 104; former members of, 20, 28, 29, 37, 52n8, 64, 69, 73, 75–77, 81, 96n55; Progressive Bloc, 11, 13–15, 64; preRevolution, 9–16, 29, 64, 66 Lenin, Vladimir I., 3, 18, 47, 48, 57n58 Leont’ev, S. M., 58n67 Leuchtenberg, G. N. (Leikhtenberrgskii), 65, 66, 92n10 Levitskii, V. M., 81, 98n74 Litvinov-Falinskii, V. P., 140 Lomnovskii, 72, 87, 94n30 Lukomskii, A. S., 20, 54n26, 97n64, 105, 128, 129, 150n42 Lvov, G. E., 15, 31n23

Index

Makeev, N. V., 152n68 Maklakov, V. A., 53n16 Manakin, 68 Margulies, M. S., 77, 97n62, 102, 109, 113n7, 140, 141, 148n21, 152n65 Markov, S. L., 20 Masaryk, Thomas, 32n41 Maslow, S. N., 77, 138 Mazurienko, S. P., 22 Mel’gunov, S. N., 49, 58n67, 58n68, 58n71 Meller-Zakomel’skii, V. V., 11, 53n24, 76, 77, 96n46, 102, 109, 110, 113n7, 115n23 Mensheviks. See Union for the Regeneration of Russia Miakotin, V. A., 42, 47, 52n11, 54n32, 55n34, 55n43, 85–87, 100n91, 100n94, 137, 150n42, 152n70, 153n80, 153n83 Mikhail Aleksandrovich, Grand Duke, 15, 31n20, 96n52 Miliukov, P. N., 22, 37, 38; Germany and, 19, 41, 73, 74, 83; in Jassy, 102, 105–7, 109–11, 113n7, 115n18, 115n23; in Kiev, 73–75, 77, 83, 97n56; Progressive Bloc and, 11, 30n2; Provisional Government and, 15, 20, 31n23 Miliutin, B. E., 114n8 Mirbach, Wilhelm von, 40 Moiseenko, B. N., 42 Monarchistic Bloc. See monarchists Monarchists, 12, 14, 15, 27, 75; Council of the State Defense, 71; Monarchistic Bloc, 62, 64–67, 70–73, 75, 91n7, 92n8–9, 92n17, 93n21, 94n33, 96n55; in Ukraine, 7, 59, 62–72, 89; Union of Our Fatherland (Soiuz Nasha Rodina), 65, 66, 95n38 Morozov, S. A., 38 Moscow, 2, 4–7, 14, 18, 19, 22, 36–51, 59, 73–75, 77, 79, 80, 82–84, 86, 89,

177

90, 106–8, 117, 130, 131, 143, 144, 159 Moscow Center. See Right Center Multiparty Bloc of Russian Voters. See nationalists Murom, 47 National Center (Natsional’nyi Tsentr), 12, 14, 157, 159, 161; all-Russian (Vserossiiskii Natsional’nyi Tsentr), 80, 82–87, 91, 132; in Jassy, 101, 102, 105–8, 110–12, 113n7, 115n23; in Kiev, 61, 73, 78–80, 99n83; Kievan (Kievskii Natsional’nyi Tsentr), 29, 34n59, 71, 75, 77, 80–87, 90, 98n74, 132; in Moscow, 40–49, 52n6, 52n10, 52n12, 53n25–26, 54n31–32, 55n37, 57n59, 57n61–62, 58n64, 58n66–68, 80; in Odessa, 125, 131, 132, 134, 135, 137–40, 144, 150n42, 151n62, 153n80–82, 154n92; program of, 42–46; South-Russian (Iuzhnorusskii natsional’nyi tsentr), 132, 153n81 National Unification (Natsional’noe Ob”edinenie), 87 Nationalism, 11, 12, 14, 69, 89, 112, 133,159, 161 (see also Russian Empire); chauvinism and, 12, 13, 27, 35n59, 64, 81–82, 90, 95n39, 103; imperialism and, 27, 125, 159, 161 Nationalists: Association Rus’ (Obshchestvo Rus’), 81; in the Duma, 12; Independent Nationalist Party, 13; Kiev Club of Russian Nationalists, 12, 13; 81, 98n75; Multiparty Bloc of Russian Voters (Vnepartiinyi blok russkikh izbiratelei), 81; Progressive Nationalists, 11, 13; 64, 98n75; Ukraine and, 13, 81, 82 nationalities: minorities, 11–13, 34n56, 81, 95n39; separatism of, 1, 6, 21,

178

Index

25, 26, 29, 33n49, 35n59, 59, 61, 70, 73–75, 78, 82, 86, 108, 113n3, 121, 128, 159 Nicholas II, 10, 11, 15, 20, 28, 96n49 Nikolaev, 123, 125, 140 Nikolai Nikolaevich, Grand Duke, 34n59, 67, 75, 89, 93n21, 93n22, 98n64, 105, 109 Nine (deviatka), the, 38, 52n8, 54n31 Northern Army. See officers Noulens, Joseph, 53n17 Novgorodtsev, P. I., 38, 52n6, 52n9, 80 Novikov, I. M., 104, 113n7, 151n62, 151n64 Novocherkassk, 20, 22, 23, 24, 79 Novorossiisk, 120 Obshchevstvo, 1, 7n1 October Manifesto, 9, 13 Octobrists, 10, 13, 14, 41, 97n56 Odessa, 2, 4, 6, 7, 14, 23, 72, 73, 79, 80, 85, 87, 102, 109, 110, 117–46, 160, 161; Council of Four Organizations (soveshchanie chetyrekh organizatsii), 130–38, 145, 153n80, 154n91 Odinets, D. M., 85, 87 Officers: in Kiev, 59, 62, 65, 72, 87, 88; in Moscow, 39, 43, 47, 52n9, 52n10, 52n11, 55n34; Northern Army, 67, 70–72, 105; in Russian Volunteer Armies, 14, 24, 62, 64–66, 88, 93n21; Southern Army, 65–68, 93n19, 93n21, 94n25, 95n35, 105; Special Corps (Osobyi korpus), 68, 94n24; Union of Officers, 37 Ogorodnikov, N., 52n10 Omsk, 18, 48, 55n41 Orientation controversy, 19, 39–41, 54n31, 55n32, 60, 65, 73, 74, 77, 82, 90, 157 Orthodox Church, 12, 41, 77, 78, 80 Paléologue, Maurice, 32n32 Panina, S. V., 80, 132

Paris, 32n41, 40, 47, 53n16, 104, 105, 120, 122, 123, 125, 136, 142, 147n4, 147n11, 148n21 Party of People’s Freedom. See Kadets Perkhurov, A. P., 47 Pelikan, B. A., 64, 91n8 Peshekhonov, A. V., 42, 154n89 Petliura, Symon V., 60, 72, 84, 87, 117, 120–22, 126, 131, 148n15 Petrograd Soviet, 16 Petrunkevich, I. I., 100n92, 116n38, 151n57 Pichon, Stephen, 147n11 Pil’ts, A. I., 109, 113n7, 126–30 Plekhanov, G. V., 33n54, 56n52 Podole, 12 Poklevskii-Kozell, S. A., 102, 109 Poland (Polish), 11, 12, 19, 35n60, 60, 104, 147n7, 148n14, 149n25 Polivanov, A. A., 31n17 Poole, Frederick, 120 Popular Socialists. See Union for the Regeneration of Russia Portal, 148n21 Pozarskii, Dimitrii, 23, 24 Prinkipo Island. See Western Allies Progressist Party, 10, 14 Progressive Bloc. See Legislative Chambers Provisional Government, 1, 15–17, 20, 38, 51n4 Pskov, 67, 70, 71 Purishkevich, V. M., 10, 30n1, 69 Red Army, 21, 24 Revolution of 1905, 9 Riabushinskii, P. P., 14, 51n4 Riabushinskii, V. P., 114n8 Right, the: exreme (pravye), 10, 12, 14; 59, 62–72, 89; moderate, 12, 20, 38, 59, 64, 73–79; Ukraine and, 5, 59–79 Right Center (Pravyi tsentr), 14, 39–41, 50, 52n8, 52n9, 53n20, 53n24, 53n25, 73, 75, 77, 80, 92n17, 96n46

Index

Rodzianko, M. V., 13, 20, 30n2, 34n59, 37, 38, 93n21 Romania, 83, 101, 102, 119, 120, 125, 147n7, 147n11 Romanovskii, I. P., 20 Rostov on-the-Don, 24, 70, 95n35 Rousseau, J. J., 2 Rubanov, 94n24, 95n42 Rubinshtein, Ia. L., 133, 152n68, 154n89 Rudnev, V. V., 113n8, 133, 152n68 Russia, great, one and indivisible. See White Army Russian Army, 15, 16, 21, 24, 31n27 Russian Empire, viii, 1, 3, 5, 9, 13, 17, 26, 36; dominant nationality in, 11, 12 Russian National Council. See Jassy Conference Russian nationalism. See nationalism and nationalists Rutenberg, P. M., 155n113 Ruzskii, N. V., 51n4 Rybinsk, 47 Saint-Aulaire, Auguste de, 101, 102, 147n11 Salazkin, A. S., 80, 132 Samara, 18 Samarin, A. D., 31n17 Sannikov, A. S., 130, 142, 151n54, Savenko, A. I., 13, 80, 81, 96n50, 99n83 Savich, N. V., 30n2, 102, 105, 106, 108–11, 113n7 Savinkov, B. V., 20, 22, 39, 46–47, 51, 52n11, 55n37, 56n52, 57n54–55, 57n58–60; Union for the Defense of the Fatherland and Freedom (Soiuz Zashchity Rodiny i Svobody), 46, 47, 57n55 Savinov, A. S., 102 Sazonov, S. D., 31n17, 97n64, 105, 147n12 Sewastopol, 119, 120, 129, 142 Shchepkin, D. M., 38, 58n67

179

Shchepkin, N. N., 38, 42, 49, 52n10, 58n67 Shcherbachev, D. G., 102, 109, 110, 113n5, 113n8, 116n35, 119, 120, 125 Shcherbatov, N. B., 31n17 Shebeko, N. N., 78, 97n63, 104, 114n8 Shingarev, A. I., 20 Shipov, D. N., 38, 41, 52n10, 58n67 Shubinskii, N. P., 97n56 Shulgin, V. V. (Shul’gin), vii, 11, 13, 64, 66, 80, 81, 86n50, 98n73, 99n75, 99n83, 114n8; monarchism of, 34n59, 80, 81, 93n21; in Odessa, 126–29, 132, 134, 138, 144, 147n12, 153n81, 155n102; supporting Denikin and the White Army, 20, 29, 34n59, 64, 101, 102, 126, 138, 150n50 Shvarts, A. V., 140–42, 155n107, 155n113 Simbirsk, 18 Skoropadskyi, Pavlo P., 5, 13, 14, 19, 24, 25, 59–62, 66, 68–73, 75, 81, 82, 85, 87, 88, 91n3, 93n22, 94n25, 94n33, 105, 111, 120 Smirnov, S. A., 14 Social Democrats, 42, 85 Socialist Revolutionaries, 18, 27, 42, 44, 45, 52n11, 75, 85, 133, 152n65, 152n68 Sokolov, 64, 92n9 Sokolov, K. N., 20, 132 Southern Army (Iuzhnaia armiia). See officers Special Corps. See officers Stankevich, V. B., 87, 100n99 State Unity Council of Russia (Sovet Gosudarstvennogo Ob”edineniia Rossii), 12, 14, 41; in Jassy, 99n84, 102, 105, 106, 108, 110, 113n7, 114n8, 115n23, 131; in Kiev, 14, 41, 61, 62, 73–79, 82–84, 86, 89, 90, 91n6, 97n62, 101; in Odessa, 79, 125, 127, 129, 131, 133–36, 138–42, 153n75, 153n82, 153n83, 154n92

180

Index

Stepanov, V. A., 20, 34n59, 38, 39, 41, 42, 44, 53n20, 80, 85, 93, 116n38, 132 Stolypin, Petr A., 10, 91n8 Struve, P. B., 20, 22, 38, 51n4, 52n6, 53n20 Sviatopolk-Mirskii, 94n24, 95n42 Tactical Center (Takticheskii tsentr), 48, 49, 58n67, 58n71 Terek, 68, 88 Times of Trouble, 4, 23 Titov, A. A., 42, 55n43, 102, 106–9, 113n7, 115n18 Tolstoi, P. M., 114n8, 153n75 Transcaucasia, 19 Tret’iakov, S. N., 14, 37, 38, 52n6, 77, 102, 109, 113n7, 115n18 Trotsky, L. D., vii, 3, 18, 47 Trubetskoi, E. N., 51n4, 77, 117, 138, 146n1, 149n26, 149n27, 149n29 Trubetskoi, G. N., 20, 22, 132 Trubetskoi, S. E., 58n67 Tula, 12 Tundutov, 67, 68, 92n17 Turkey, 119 Ufa, 19, 47, 50 Ufa Directory, 19, 45, 46, 54n31, 56n44, 84, 86, 91, 105, 107, 108, 111, 112, 133 Ufa State Conference, 45, 46, 50, 57n62, 107 Ukraine (see also nationalities): Bolsheviks and, 25, 60, 75, 76; Hetmanate in, 13, 26, 60, 62, 63, 65, 67–72, 75, 81, 82, 84–88, 91n1, 117, 121, 132; League of Landowners (Soiuz zemel’nykh sobstvennikov), 52n6, 61, 62, 65, 69, 77, 91n6; national movement of, 12, 20, 60, 61, 70, 72, 87, 118, 139, 143; Parliament of (Seim), 71, 82, 84; Protofis (Soiuz promyshlennosti, torgovli, finansov i sel’skogo

khoziaistva), 61, 62, 65, 69, 77, 91n6, 114n8; Russia’s federation with, 60, 61, 69, 71, 74–76, 78, 87–89, 95n36, 123, 146, 149n25; Ukrainian Directory, 70, 87, 94n33, 95n44, 118, 120, 123, 139, 140, 155n102; Ukrainian National Union, 60, 69, 82; Union of Agrarians (Soiuz khleborobov), 61, 69, 139, 140; Western Allies and, 103, 117–24, 139, 140, 143,145, 148n15, 154n100; Whites and, 20, 26, 27, 33n49, 61, 64, 68, 69, 71, 78, 81, 88, 94n30, 121, 126, 133, 143, 145, 146, 160 Union for the Defense of the Fatherland and Freedom. See Savinkov Union for the Regeneration of Russia (Soiuz vozrozhdeniia Rossii), 12, 14, 56n45 (see also Kadets); in Jassy, 90, 100n94, 101, 102, 106–8, 110, 111, 113n7; in Kiev, 72, 73, 75, 77–79, 82, 84–87, 90; Mensheviks (Edinstvo, Oborontsy, Trudoviks) in, 14, 15, 54n32, 133, 152n65, 152n68; in Moscow, 42, 46–49, 54n31, 54n31, 54n32, 55n33, 55n34, 55n37, 55n43, 58n67, 85; in Odessa, 125, 131, 133–35, 137, 138, 142, 150n42, 153n75, 153n80; Popular Socialists and, 14; 42, 52n6; State Unity Council and, 75–76; White Army and, 42, 44, 63, 85, 86 Union of Officers. See officers Union of our Fatherland. See monarchists Union of Public Figure, 37, 38, 48, 49, 51n4, 52n6, 52n8, 53n25, 58n67, 58n68 Utro Rossii, 30n2 Vendziagol’skii, K. M., 22 Vinogradskii, N. N., 58n68, 58n70, 58n71 Vladivostok, 18, 40, 53n17

Index

Volkov, N. K., 42, 80, 84, 85, 132, 151n62 Volunteer Army. See White Army Vopicka, Charles, 102 Vynnychenko, Volodymyr K., 60, 149n24 Western Allies (see also Allied intervention): diplomatic contacts with and delegation to, 21, 40–43, 47, 50, 53n16–17, 55n37, 57n54, 59n59, 76, 78, 82, 87, 97n64, 103, 104, 109, 115n18, 118, 123, 125, 131, 137, 147n4; diplomatic representation of, 32n46, 40–43, 47, 101–3, 107, 109, 120–23, 147n11; Entente, 39, 40, 69, 74, 77, 83, 85, 103; loyalty to, 5, 19, 25, 27, 43, 77, 83, 103, 124; peace conference on Prinkipo Island, 48, 49, 58n65, 136, 137, 154n86 White movement, 19, 26, 28, 29, 35n60, 36, 61–63, 78, 81, 118, 158; defeat of, 2, 4, 160–61; definition of, 1, 5,

181

160–61; politicians and, 20–24, 29, 51 White Army, 4, 35n63; great, one and indivisible Russia and, 23, 26, 69, 70, 72, 81, 82, 85, 89, 102–4, 121, 124, 158; ideology of, 5, 26–29, 33n52, 63, 81, 88, 103, 160–61; monarchism and, 65, 66, 81; origin of, 19–25, 35n62, 78; Special Council of, 22, 28, 29, 33n54, 34n59, 56n52, 80, 83, 102, 103, 114n8, 114n13, 126, 129, 150n50, 160 Wrangel, P. N., 34n58 Yaroslavl, 47 Zamyslovskii, G. G., 10, 30n1, 64, 65, 66, 95n35 Zemskii, Sobor, 41, 75 Zemstvo-City Union (Zemskoe i gorodskoe ob”ediienie), 79, 98n65, 131–36, 150n42, 151n64 Znosko-Borovskii, 91n2