Men like Kameneff, Sverdloff and Krassin, who hold high and responsible positions in the State service, good and sincere Communists, would not rise to power nor maintain their position by indiscriminate slaughter and brutal methods of tyranny, but having faith in the ultimate triumph of their principle, would establish it through education and organisation. That men of a more violent character hold the reins of power is due, in my considered judgment, to the fatal policy of the Allies, and in these days, of the Poles, in seeking to decide the issue by the sword. The resumption of war by the misguided Poles and the consequent fear that fell upon the Russian people, joined to a perfectly proper patriotism, gave that powerful instrument of tyranny, the Extraordinary Commission, with its secret police, the opportunity to revive itself, and fasten itself like the plague upon terror-stricken population and frightened administrators alike.
But the extreme men, with their gospel of a world-revolution by violence, and the dictatorship of one class over the rest of mankind, are a painful phenomenon. Pure and unselfish idealists as many of them undoubtedly are, and born out of due time, they are the terrible progeny of the maddest war and the cruellest “peace” that ever tore civilisation to tatters.
Some work quietly, live nobly, and starve on the rations which only the very best men decline to augment. But, for the most part, the Communists live better than the rest and form the new aristocracy. Their duties are specially dangerous and hazardous, and the difference is justified for this reason. If there is an epidemic to be fought or special labour to be performed, the Communists are the first to be called upon to do the work; but there are privileges also, as with the aristocracy of any other country. Of the civilian population, Communists only may carry arms. Special food and clothing privileges are made available for Communists. The children of Communists form the greater number in the country colonies for children. The way to professional advancement and to positions of power and responsibility is through the Communist Party. This fact may explain the position within the Party of one able man with whom I spoke. I had been trying to convince a little Communist lady that there was no Communist Party as such in Great Britain and that the number of Communists in England was very small.
“There are no published statistics, but,” I said, “I do not believe there are five thousand Communists in the whole of England. I doubt if there are five hundred Communists there who have thought the thing out to the very bottom, and who give to Communism anything more than an emotional support.”
“And do you really think there are more than five thousand or even five hundred Communists of the better sort in this country?” was his question.
“Indeed I do,” I replied. “I believe that there are 650,000 Communists according to your own published statistics.”
“Published statistics are queer things,” he said slowly. “It is not easy to join the Communist Party. There is six months’ probation to be served. One has to have two guarantors. But when joining the Party is the only sure way to sufficient nourishment and some prospect of advancement, even the dangerous duties cannot deter all from joining.” He shrugged his shoulders and walked away. He, along with the rest of the Trade Unionists, had been ordered under threat of penalties to join the parade in the Uritzky Platz which had been organised for the British Delegation.
The first public meeting in Petrograd and a similar occasion in the Moscow Opera House were like every other meeting we had in Russia. The slight difference between these two gatherings was that in Petrograd the audience was restricted to Trade Unionists as the hall-space was limited to about two thousand, and the meeting was held under the auspices of the Unions, whilst in Moscow the meeting was open to the general public and was three times as big as in Petrograd.
Speeches were made by Russians and British alternately. At the Moscow meeting a Menshevik was permitted to speak, and made a plucky performance under very trying circumstances. The Russian official speeches were all of one quality and directed towards very definite ideas. These speeches soon became so familiar that we learnt to anticipate the phrases. When a little boy of ten was brought forward at one of the schools to repeat to us his Communist lesson, we recognised the words of the father on the lips of the child. There was the same talk of the dictatorship of the working masses, the same passionate appeal to the British workers to drop their old method and march into the streets and to the barricades, the same prophecies of a world-revolution, the same sneers at those who hope to achieve their object by peaceful and democratic means, the same wearisome exclamatory phrases at the end. “Long live the Soviet Republic!” “Long live the Workers Revolution!” “Long live the international solidarity of Labour!” Admirable phrases were some of these, but incongruous in the mouth of a pale little fellow of ten, undersized on his cabbage soup and black bread; and unspeakably funny tripping from the unaccustomed lips of sober-speeched Britons, anxious not to be outdone in the delivery of explosive perorations. “Long live Soviet Russia!” “Long live the Russian Communist Party!” “Long live the Workers Revolution!”
A few phrases from the speeches of the Russian orators will illustrate the kind of message they wished to give us and will show the misunderstanding of our mission and of the state of the Labour Movement in Great Britain of which I wrote in a previous chapter. To take the following sentences from a speech delivered by Ziperovitch, of the Trades Union Council of the Province of Petrograd: