Spies and Commissars

anything he could do. Pilsudski and Paderewski were now the men who set the agenda.⁵⁵

When the Party Conference met later in the month, Lenin was frank about the ‘gigantic, unprecedented defeat’. He acknowledged that it was the product of a Polish ‘patriotic upsurge’ rather than action or assistance by the Western Allies. Soviet Russia had to accept that the Poles were unlikely to agree to the frontier proposed earlier by Lord Curzon. Galicia had to be delivered to Poland and the boundaries shifted to the east of the Curzon Line.⁵⁶ Lenin added: ‘This undoubtedly means that a mistake was committed: you see, we had victory in our hands and we let it slip from our fingers.’⁵⁷ He asked forgiveness, admitting that the Politburo should have halted the Red advance in eastern Galicia and been content with gaining a base for a future offensive — ‘a little push’ into Hungary across the Carpathians.⁵⁸ Now that peace negotiations were under way the priority had to be the regeneration of the Soviet economy. He expressed doubt that the Bolsheviks could succeed without foreign industrial investment. Communism, he declared, could not be built solely by ‘Russian forces’.⁵⁹

29. TRADE TALKS ABROAD

The Polish war punctuated a year of talks on a trade treaty between Soviet Russia and the United Kingdom. The British government played its hand with some caution. Its ministers were determined to prevent foreigners from stirring up revolution and on 16 July 1920 deported Santeri Nuorteva of the Russian Soviet Bureau, as the front organization was known by then — who had landed in Liverpool from New York. Nuorteva was carrying a ‘diplomatic passport’ stamped by his comrade Ludwig Martens. Back in New York, the Russian Soviet Bureau blustered that Canadian contracts to the value of six million dollars would be cancelled.¹ Martens attended a gathering of 8,000 supporters in Madison Square Garden where he wanted to call on the US government to permit the transport of medical supplies to Russia. He received fifteen minutes of applause before he could start speaking. The Internationale was sung. Martens haltingly read out his speech in English before giving a vivid delivery in Russian: ‘There is much talk of Bolshevist propaganda against America. There is no such thing. But there is propaganda against Soviet Russia.’² This was of no help to Nuorteva in England, where Lloyd George had to be seen to be standing up to communism to placate the Conservative MPs in the governing coalition. Rejecting pleas on Nuorteva’s behalf, he said that his papers were not in order and that normal procedures had been followed.³

Yet rather than sending Nuorteva back to America, Lloyd George allowed him to travel on to the Estonian capital, from where he would be able to reach Russia.⁴ Nor did Lloyd George object to Kamenev and Krasin coming to London.⁵ Things had changed since Kamenev’s fruitless visit in 1918. Lloyd George was giving communists a chance to show that they deserved admittance inside the perimeter of formal international relations. Lenin understood this. Worrying that Kamenev and Krasin might get over-excited, he warned them against summoning far-left socialists to get arms for the British working class.⁶

The dominant theme in the talks with Kamenev and Krasin at 10 Downing Street on 4 and 8 August was the Soviet military advance on Warsaw.⁷ But after demanding peace and security for Poland, Lloyd George and Bonar Law also took the opportunity to set out their conditions for future trade with Soviet Russia. They insisted that Soviet leaders should cease their political subversion and ideological propaganda in the United Kingdom and its empire. Kamenev affected to understand and agree. But the evidence from telegrams between Moscow and London told a different story, evidence that was eagerly published in The Times.⁸ Ernst Fetterlein at the Government Code and Cypher School had decrypted the intercepts between Lenin and Kamenev, which were then leaked to the press. Lloyd George disliked what he learned from Fetterlein about the Kremlin’s basic intentions and told Kamenev that there was no prospect of resuming Anglo-Russian trade unless Lenin changed his posture.⁹The Times also alleged that Kamenev had a hand in Moscow’s delivery of the secret subsidy to the Daily Herald and was in regular contact with the Council of Action, which the Labour Party and the trade unions had established on 5 August as part of a campaign to prevent Britain from intervening in the Soviet–Polish war. Other newspapers soon took the same line that Kamenev had come as a diplomat and behaved as a subversive. All this angered Lloyd George and he rebuked Krasin and Kamenev for breaking their word that they would not interfere in British politics. He told Kamenev that if he did not quickly leave the United Kingdom, he would be deported.¹⁰

Lloyd George grew more truculent when news reached London of the Red Army’s defeat east of Warsaw. Kamenev accepted that he was no longer persona grata in the United Kingdom. Before he departed he sent an open letter to the Prime Minister claiming that the government was exploiting ‘paltry and unproved’ charges supplied to it by secret police agents; he also deplored the French government’s decision to recognize Wrangel rather than Lenin as the leader of Russia. Kamenev worried that the Allies might rediscover their enthusiasm for military intervention, but in fact Lloyd George was being crafty. Nobody in Whitehall really thought Kamenev was worse behaved than Krasin, yet Krasin was allowed to keep his New Bond Street office and continue the trade talks.¹¹ The truth was that the Prime Minister still desired some kind of commercial treaty with Soviet Russia. By making a fog of the situation he alleviated the criticism in the press. Lacking the military or political means to eliminate Bolshevism, he was doing what he thought was the next best thing by undermining the Soviet order through a resumption of commercial contacts. Lloyd George saw himself as the mole-catcher who would grub out communism.

Like the other Liberals in his governing coalition, he wanted to avoid giving any impression that ministers were out to provoke an armed clash with Soviet Russia. He also needed to show himself as a friend of the British working man, which would be difficult if he threatened a so-called proletarian government elsewhere in Europe. He was also straining to promote Britain’s economic recovery from the post-war recession. Industrialists who had done good business in Russia before 1914 were lobbying him for a resumption of trade with the Russians. National economic self-interest was put forward in justification, and Lloyd George acted with confidence that more people would eventually support him than were writing to The Times to denounce him.

Krasin still goaded the British by mentioning the progress being made by the rest of his negotiating team elsewhere in Europe. Among the experts on banking and railways he had left behind in Stockholm was Professor Yuri Lomonosov, once a monarchist but now a supporter of the October Revolution. Lomonosov was involved in Sovnarkom’s offer to sell its gold reserves in exchange for locomotives, carriages and rail track, and industrial companies in Sweden competed for the contracts being dangled in front of them.¹² Originally the Soviet intention had been to make such purchases in Germany, but this was scuppered when the Allied powers reaffirmed their ban on deals involving Russian gold of disputed ownership. The Germans, having lost the war, had to comply with what the Allies demanded. Sweden, which had been neutral in the Great War and was therefore unaffected by the Paris peace treaties, was the next best option for the Bolsheviks. An agreement was drafted and, with Krasin’s consent, a provisional deal for one thousand locomotives was signed on 22 October 1920. Gold was already in place in Tallinn to complete the agreement. Sovnarkom was delighted at this latest breach in the wall of Russia’s economic isolation. It was consequently odd that it should be Krasin who raised an objection. He belatedly expressed the fear that the Allies would compel Sweden to withhold any railway exports under the terms of the contract. He thought there was a risk of depleting Russian gold reserves for the benefit of Swedish business partners but not for Sovnarkom.¹³

There was another snag, and it was a big one. Swedish industry lacked the capacity to manufacture so much railway equipment with any rapidity. The Stockholm deal would depend on Sweden’s metallurgical companies quietly buying around eight hundred locomotives from Germany.¹⁴ Business of this surreptitious nature had gone on between Russia and Germany throughout the Great War when German entrepreneurs established ‘Swedish’ electrical companies to trade with Russian firms in products essential to Russia’s military effort. Another wartime dodge had been for German enterprises to stick Scandinavian markings on goods made in Germany. So the Johann Faber works, which had sold pencils in the Russian Empire for decades, simply rebranded its output with Danish insignia; and German razors found their way into Russia emblazoned with the motto: ‘To a Brave Russian Soldier for Distinguished Service’.¹⁵

The ratification of the Swedish contract was scheduled for 18 December, and Krasin had yet to be convinced. The Stockholm members of his negotiating team went to London to plead with him. Krasin was not overly receptive.