Chapter XXXIV · Some Conclusions as to the First Period of the Revolution.

History will not soon give us a picture of the Revolution in a broad, impartial light. Those prospects which are now opening out to our view are sufficient only to enable us to grasp certain particular phenomena in it and, perhaps, to reject the prejudices and misconceptions which have sprung up around them.

The Revolution was inevitable. It is called a Revolution of the whole people. This is correct only in so far as the Revolution was the Result of the discontent of literally all classes of the population with the old power. But upon the question of its achievements opinions were divided, and deep breaches were bound to appear between classes on the very next day after the downfall of the old Power.

The Revolution was many-faced. For the peasants—the ownership of the land; for the workmen—the ownership of profits; for the Liberal Bourgeoisie—changed political conditions of life in the land and moderate social reforms; for the Revolutionary Democracy—power and the maximum of social achievement; for the Army—absence of authority and the cessation of the War.

With the downfall of the power of the Czar, there was left in the country, until the summoning of a Constituent Assembly, no lawful power, no power that had a juridical basis. This is perfectly natural and follows from the very nature of a Revolution. But whether through genuine misconception or deliberately perverting the truth, men have fabricated theories, known to be false, about the “general popular origin of the Provisional Government” or about the “full powers of the Soviet of Workmen’s and Soldiers’ Delegates,” as an organ supposed to represent the “whole of the Russian Democracy.” What an elastic conscience one must have, if, while professing democratic principles and protesting violently against the slightest deviation from orthodox conditions of the lawfulness of elections, one can still ascribe full powers, as the organ of democracy, to the Petrograd Soviet or to the Congress of Soviets, the election of which is of an extraordinary simplified and one-sided character. It was not without reason that for a long time the Petrograd Soviet hesitated to publish lists of its members. As to the supreme Power, to say nothing of its “popular origin” from a “private meeting of the State Duma,” the technique of its construction was so imperfect that repeated crises might have put an end to its very existence and to every trace of its continuity. Finally, a really “popular” Government could not have remained isolated, left by all to the will of a group of usurpers of authority. That same Government which, in the days of March, so easily obtained general recognition. Recognition, yes, but not practical support.

After March 3rd, and up to the Constituent Assembly, every supreme authority bore the marks of self-assumed power, and no power could satisfy all classes of the population, in view of the irreconciliableness of their interests and the intemperance of their desires.

Neither of the ruling powers (the Provisional Government and the Soviet) enjoyed the due support of the majority. For this majority (80 per cent.) said, through its representatives in the Constituent Assembly of 1918: “We peasants make no difference between parties; parties fight for power, while our peasant business is the land alone.” But even if, forestalling the will of the Constituent Assembly, the Provisional Government had satisfied these desires of the majority in full, it could not have reckoned on this majority’s immediate submission to the general interests of the State, nor on its active support: engaged in the redistribution of the land, which also had a strong attraction for the elements at the Front, the peasantry would scarcely have given the State, voluntarily, the forces and the means for putting it in order, i.e. plenty of corn and plenty of soldiers—brave, faithful and obedient to the law. Even then the Government would have been faced with insoluble problems: an Army which did not fight, an unproductive industry, a transport system which was being broken down and ... the civil war of parties.

Let us, therefore, set aside the popular and democratic origin of the Provisional authority. Let it be self-assumed, as it has been in the history of all revolutions and of all peoples. But the very fact of the wide recognition of the Provisional Government gave it a vast advantage over all the other forces which disputed its authority. It was necessary, however, that this power should become so strong, so absolute in its nature, so autocratic, as, having crushed all opposition by force, perhaps by arms, to have led the country to a Constituent Assembly, elected in surroundings which did not admit of the falsification of the popular vote, and to have protected this Assembly.

We are apt to abuse the words “elemental force,” as an excuse for many phenomena of the Revolution. That “molten element” which swept Kerensky away with the greatest ease, has it not fallen into the iron grip of Lenin-Bronstein and, for more than three years, been unable to escape from Bolshevist duress?

If such a power, harsh, but inspired by reason and by a true desire for popular rule, had assumed authority and, having crushed the licence into which freedom had been transmuted, had led this authority to a Constituent Assembly, the Russian people would have blessed, not condemned it. In such a position will every provisional authority find itself which accepts the heritage of Bolshevism; and Russia will judge it, not by the juridical marks of its origin, but by its works.

Why is the overthrow of the incompetent authority of the old Government to be an achievement, to the memory of which the Provisional Government proposed erecting a monument in the Capital, while the attempt to overthrow the incompetent authority of Kerensky, made by Kornilov, after exhausting all lawful means and after provocation on the part of the Minister-President, is to be counted rebellion?

But the need for a powerful authority is far from being exhausted by the period preceding the Constituent Assembly. Did not the Assembly of 1918 call in vain on the country, not for submission, but simply for protection from physical outrage on the part of the turbulent sailor horde? Yet not a hand was raised in its defence. Let us grant that that Assembly, born in an atmosphere of mutiny and violence, did not express the will of the Russian people and that the future Assembly will reflect that will more perfectly. I think, however, that even those who have the most exalted faith in the infallibility of the democratic principle do not close their eyes to the unbounded possibilities of the future which will be the heritage of such a physical and psychological transformation in the people as is unknown to history and has never yet been investigated by anyone.

Who knows whether it may not be necessary to confirm the democratic principle, the authority itself of the Constituent Assembly, and its commands, by iron and fresh bloodshed....

Be that as it may, the outward recognition of the Provisional Government took place. It would be difficult and useless to separate, in the work of the Government, that which proceeded from its free will and sincere convictions from what bears the stamp of the forcible influence of the Soviet. If Tzeretelli was entitled to declare that “there has never yet been a case when, in important questions, the Provisional Government has not been ready to come to an agreement,” so have we the right to identify their work and their responsibility.

All this activity, volens nolens, bore the character of destruction, not creation. The Government repealed, abolished, disbanded, permitted.... In this lay the centre of gravity of its work. I picture to myself the Russia of that period as a very old house, in need of capital reconstruction. In the absence of means and while waiting for the building season (the Constituent Assembly), the builders began extracting the decayed girders, some of which they did not replace at all, others they replaced with light, temporary props, and others again they reinforced with new baulks without fastenings—the latter means turning out to be the worst. And the house crashed down. The causes of such a method of building were first: the absence of a complete and symmetrical plan among the Russian political parties, the whole energy, mental and will tension of which were directed mainly towards the destruction of the former order. For we cannot give the name of practical plans to the abstract outlines of the party programmes; they are rather lawful or unlawful diplomas for the right of building. Secondly—that the new ruling classes did not possess the most elementary technical knowledge of the art of ruling, as the result of a systematic, age-long setting them aside from these functions. Thirdly—the non-forestalling of the will of the Constituent Assembly, which, in any case, called for heroic measures for its summoning, and therewith no less heroic measures for securing real freedom of election. Fourthly—the odiousness of all that bore the stamp of the old order, even though it were sound at bottom. Fifthly—the self-conceit of the political parties, each of which individually represented the “will of the whole people” and was distinguished by extreme irreconciliableness towards its antagonists.

I might probably continue this list for a long time, but I shall pause on one fact which has a significance which is far from being confined to the past. The Revolution was expected, it was prepared, but no one, not a single one of the political groups had prepared itself for it. And the Revolution came by night, finding everyone, like the foolish virgins in the Gospel, with lamps unlit. One cannot explain and excuse everything by elemental forces alone. No one had troubled to construct beforehand a general plan of the canals and sluices necessary to prevent the inundation from becoming a flood. Not one of the leading parties possessed a programme for the interregnum in the life of the country, a programme which, in its character and scale, could not correspond with normal plans of construction, either in the system of administration or in the sphere of economic and social relations. It would scarcely be an exaggeration to say that the only assets in the possession of the progressive and Socialist blocks on March 27th, 1917, were: for the former—the choice for the post of Minister-President of Prince Lvov, for the latter—the Soviets and Order No. 1. After this began the convulsive, unsystematic vacillation of the Government and of the Soviet.

It is to be regretted that this difference, which constitutes a marked distinction between two periods—the provisional and the constructive—two systems, two programmes, has not yet become sufficiently clear in public consciousness.

The whole period of the active struggle with Bolshevism passed under the sign of the mingling of these two systems, of divergent views and of incapacity to construct a provisional form of authority. It would seem that now, too, the anti-Bolshevist forces, while increasing the divergence of their views and building plans for the future, are not preparing for the process of assuming the power after the downfall of Bolshevism, and will again approach the task with naked hands and wavering mind. Only now the process will be immeasurably more difficult. For the second excuse—after “elemental forces”—for the failure of the Revolution, or rather of its leading men—“the heritage of the Czarist régime”—has paled very much on the background of the sanguinary Bolshevist mist which has enveloped the land of Russia.

The new power (the Provisional Government) was faced by a question of the first importance—the War. On its decision rested the fate of the country. The decision in favour of continuing the alliance and the War rested on ethical motives, which at that time did not rouse any doubts, and on practical motives, which were in some degree disputable. Now, even the former have been shaken, since both the Allies and the enemy have treated the fate of Russia with cruel, cynical egotism. Nevertheless, I have no doubt of the correctness of the decision then taken to continue the War. Many suppositions might be made as to the possibilities of a separate peace—whether that of Brest-Litovsk or one less grievous for the State and for our national self-love. But it is to be thought that such a peace in the spring of 1917 would have led either to the dismemberment of Russia and her economic débâcle (a general peace at the expense of Russia), or to the complete victory of the Central Powers over our Allies, which would have produced incomparably deeper convulsions in their countries than those which the German people are now experiencing. Both in the one case and in the other, no objective data would be present for any change for the better in the political, social and economic conditions of Russian life and any turning of the Russian Revolution into other channels. Only, besides Bolshevism, Russia would have added to her liabilities the hatred of the defeated for many years.

Having decided to fight, it was necessary to preserve the Army by admitting a certain conservatism into it. Such a conservatism serves as a guarantee for the stability of the Army and of that authority which seeks support in it. If the participation of the Army in historical cataclysms cannot be avoided, neither can it be turned into an arena for political struggle, creating, instead of the principle of service—pretorians or opritchniks, whether of the Czar, of the Revolutionary Democracy, or of any party is a matter of indifference.

The Army was broken up.

On those principles which the Revolutionary Democracy took as a basis for the existence of the Army, the latter could neither build nor live. It was no mere chance that all the later attempts at armed conflict with Bolshevism began with the organisation of an Army on the normal principles of military administration, to which the Soviet command as well sought to pass gradually. No elemental circumstances, no errors on the part of military dictatorships and of the powers co-operating with or opposing them which led to the failure of the struggle (of this some truths will be spoken later) are able to cast this undeniable fact into the shade. Nor is it a mere chance that the leading circles of the Revolutionary Democracy could create no armed forces, except that pitiful parody on them—the “National Army” on the so-called “front of the Constituent Assembly.” It was just this circumstance that led the Russian Socialist emigrants to the theory of non-resistance, of the negation of armed struggle, to the concentration of all their hopes on the inner degeneration of Bolshevism and its overthrow by some immaterial “forces of the people themselves,” which, however, could not express themselves otherwise than by blood and iron: “the great, bloodless” Revolution is drowned in blood from its beginning to its end.

To refuse to consider that vast question—the re-creation of a National Army on firm principles—is not to solve it.

What then? On the day that Bolshevism falls will peace and good-will immediately show forth in a land corrupted by a slavery worse than that of the Tartar yoke, saturated with dissension, revenge, hatred, and ... an enormous quantity of arms? Or, from that day forward, will the self-interested desires of many foreign Governments disappear, or will they grow stronger when the menace of the moral infection of the Soviet has vanished? Finally, even should the whole of old Europe, morally regenerated, beat out its swords into ploughshares, is it impossible for a new Tchingiz-Khan to come out of the depths of that Asia which has accounts age-long and huge beyond measure, against Europe?

The Army will be regenerated. Of that there can be no doubt.

Shaken in its historical foundations and traditions, like the heroes of the Russian legends, it will stand for no short time at the cross-roads, gazing anxiously into the misty distances, still wrapped in the gloom before the dawn, and listening intently to the vague sounds of the voices calling to it. And among the delusive calls it will seek, straining its hearing to the utmost, for the real voice ... the voice of its own people.

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