A review of Michael J. Carley’s Stalin’s Gamble: The Search for Allies against Hitler, 1930–1936.
This work by Michael Jabara Carley, a leading international expert on Soviet history and professor at the University of Montreal, is the second book of his monumental, panoramic three-volume study of the global political dynamics and diplomatic relations of the major countries in the run-up to World War II, with the USSR and Joseph Stalin as its central focus. It is a sequel to the first work of the trilogy, the book “Secret War: West against Soviet Russia, 1917–1930),” published in Russia in 2019 . Before moving on to the second book, I will say a few words about the first book.
In December 2019, this book’s launch took place in the House of the Russian Historical Society (Moscow) . This event aroused great interest among Russian scholars, journalists and politicians. Veronica Krasheninnikova, a well-known Russian political scientist and public figure, spoke at the presentation. She wrote a very interesting book, “Russia-America: Cold War of Cultures. How American values refract the vision of Russia” (2007) . In passing, we would like to add that Veronika Yurievna Krasheninnikova provided great assistance to the publication of the work of journalist and documentary filmmaker Frances Stonor Saunders, The Cultural Cold War. The CIA and the World of Arts and Letters, the title of which speaks for itself. The book by Saunders was published under the auspices of the Institute for Foreign Policy Studies, whose head is Veronika Krasheninnikova. Under the same auspices were published the first two books of Michael Carley—The Secret War and Stalin’s Gamble (Stalin’s Risky Game, in Russian translation).
Regarding the publication in Russian of the first book of Professor Carley’s trilogy, Krasheninnikova said: “We may not be aware of how unique the case of Michael Carley is, but there are simply no other such historians in the West—in terms of honesty, responsibility and depth of work with historical sources.” Professor Carley himself, speaking at this presentation, said: “There is no other book like it, either in scope or depth of material. My book to some extent removes the relevance of the large body of Western literature that was written before access to Soviet archives was opened.” These words of Professor Carley can be fully attributed to Stalin’s Gamble, which is the subject of this review.
The authors of the Foreword to the Russian edition of the second book of Michael Carley’s trilogy are Sergey Kudryashov, Russian historian, head of the Center for the Study of the History of the Great Patriotic War (Institute of Russian History, Russian Academy of Sciences), and Veronika Krasheninnikova. On her Telegram channel “Predictions. Krasheninnikova,” she discussed Michael Carley’s speech at the presentation of Stalin’s Gamble at Moscow’s Red Square Book Festival on June 6, 2024. Specifically, Professor Carley said: “As you know, to be a good historian of international relations, you have to be able to see and understand both sides of the story and put yourself in the other person’s shoes, where each side explains everything it needs to tell its story, based on archival evidence, honestly and without bias. This is not an easy task these days in the western world; as for me, I think I have done well, but of course you will be my harshest critics; judge for yourself.”
According to the rules of scientific etiquette, before proceeding to the stated topic, it is necessary to briefly note the scientific relevance. There can be no doubt that the problem of foreign policy relations of the USSR with the Western world on the eve of World War II is topical, or better to say, acutely relevant. It becomes especially acute against the background of modern dramatic global events within the framework of global strategic instability, predicted by Russian philosopher and political thinker Alexander Panarin in his 2003 work, Strategic Instability in the 21st Century. It should be noted that in the USSR and in modern Russia the topic of the USSR’s pre-war diplomacy has always been a priority. In the Soviet Union, a huge body of literature was devoted to it. And in modern Russia this topic has not faded from the focus of scientific attention, which is absolutely natural and inevitable for our time. In order not to be unsubstantiated, I will give a precise example. In 2020, a large and important monograph by Oleg Airapetov, a well-known Russian historian from Lomonosov Moscow State University and a specialist in Russian foreign policy was published, namely, Foreign Policy of Soviet Russia and the USSR in 1920–1939 and the History of the Second World War. It was published by the same publishing house as Michael Carley’s book. In 2024, Oleg Ayrapetov’s two-volume monograph, History of the Foreign Policy of the Soviet State. 1918–1941, was published.
Now let us turn to Michael Carley’s book Stalin’s Gamble, which is written on the basis of archival materials, but is not a monotonous narrative, and reading it is a very exciting and dynamic experience. I will not hide the fact that I did not expect the book to be so exciting to read, because, as a rule, even the very words “archive” and “archival materials” are boring. Michael Carley dissuades the reader that the “archive is boring.” And this is very important, because it reflects the dynamism of politics in the composition and dynamics of the research text. The archives seem to come alive under the author’s pen.
The style of the book is exciting and fascinating; it reads like a detective story. The characters come out very lively, they do not leave the reader indifferent; they cause a whole range of emotions—from indignation to admiration. However, the author does not depart from the principles of science in favor of fascinating and artistic narrative: the structure of the book is built strictly and is adequate to the task set by the author. The only thing that is missing, and this the reader cannot bypass, is generalizations, conclusions, theory. However, the author himself explicitly warns that this was not his task: “I am a digger rather than a skimmer—a rat des archives, the French would say—and am not satisfied until I have gotten to the bottom of my mysteries—if I can. As readers may surmise, my approach is empirical. I have never been much interested in ‛theories’ of history. I mean intellectual constructs unsupported by legitimate forms of evidence, or an archival base when apposite” (pp. ix–x).
The main focus of the book is on the efforts of Soviet diplomacy to build a system of collective security in Europe during the described period. It is very well and thoroughly shown how the USSR made every conceivable and unthinkable effort in the struggle for peace. Therefore, the main heroes are the direct leaders of Soviet diplomacy, first of all Maksim Litvinov, who in the book outshines even Stalin himself. It should be emphasized that, judging by impressions not only from this book, but also from other works of Professor Carley, Maksim Litvinov is his favorite hero. In general, the book shows that Professor Carley is a very sincere, caring person (which, of course, does not mean at all a violation of the principle of sine ira et studio).
The book contains many portraits of Soviet diplomats, written not only with great knowledge of facts, but also with sincere expressiveness. These are Ivan Maisky, Boris Stomonyakov, Nikolai Krestinsky, Aleksander Troyanovsky, Vladimir Potemkin, Valerian Dovgalevsky, Vyacheslav Molotov, and many others. European diplomats and politicians are also interestingly and vividly represented: Joseph Paul-Boncourt, Édouard Herriot, Pierre Laval, Louis Barthou, Charles Alphand, Édouard Daladier, Franklin Roosevelt, Robert Vansittart, Anthony Eden, John Simon, Neville Chamberlain, Winston Churchill, Eduard Beneš, and others. All of them appear before the reader as if we were watching a documentary and at the same time an exciting political thriller. Other “heroes” are the institutions of those years—the League of Nations, the Comintern, the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs (NKID, People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs), and even one book—understandably, Mein Kampf. And, of course, the states of those years: France, Germany, England, Poland, and others. As the “heroes” of the book, they appear as individuals, each with their own character, temperament, mental and physical abilities.
If the impression is to be believed, Professor Carley’s two favorite Soviet diplomats are Maxim Litvinov and Ivan Maisky. I will make a small digression about Ivan Maisky. This distinguished Soviet diplomat and publicist was friends with the famous Social Democratic figures and theorists Sidney and Beatrice Webb. It was he, through the Soviet cultural and political figure Karl Radek, who suggested to Stalin the idea of publishing in the USSR their work, Soviet Communism: A New Civilization? The two-volume seminal treatise was published in 1937. It is a wide-ranging study of Soviet society in the 1930s. The Webbs appear in their treatise on Soviet civilization as scholars conducting their analysis in accordance with a number of methodological rules, attitudes, and techniques; often resorting to detailed and elaborate descriptions of institutions.
Nevertheless, for all its dryness, the work is by no means devoid of pathos and even a touch of profanity. To summarize briefly how the USSR appears in the treatise of the Webbs, the term “state-civilization” should be used.
But back to Michael Carley’s Stalin’s Gamble.
The diplomatic panorama with its restless movements, its constant nervousness, is what is at the center of the book. This is the general impression of the text. But of course, it is not about the turbulence and turmoil, because the vicissitudes of diplomacy are a direct reflection of the instability of European politics in the 1930s—the contradictions of interests, the extreme difficulty in finding any solutions, the eternal aspirations of governments and diplomats of European countries to outplay each other, squabbles and distrust, mutual nagging and eternal diplomatic polemics. Euro-diplomats hiding in the sand, Euro-politicians contradicting themselves, whose eternal cunning reaches the point where they easily outplay themselves—and Stalin’s calm and restrained diplomats and politicians opposing them—all this is perfectly reflected in Professor Carley’s book.
The nervousness and “epilepticism,” the laxity of European diplomacy and politics contrast with the calmness and precision, the painstaking and unhurried movements of the Soviet side. Professor Carley even calls a separate paragraph of his book, “A Remarkable Patience” (pp. 354–356). He writes: “In some ways, Soviet patience with the British and French was remarkable, but if you looked at the situation from a Soviet point of view, the only available allies against Nazi Germany were those powers with which it was trying to move towards a common ground. The Soviet government had no other options but patience and persistence” (p. 354).
Patience was certainly the imperative of the time for Stalin and the USSR—but patience was also a fundamental feature of Soviet policy, which proved congenial to the first half of the 1930s (as well as to other times). Stalin’s calmness and restraint are legendary. Thus, the famous American journalist and businessman Roy Howard, whose interview with Stalin took place in 1936, recalls: “Stalin was beautiful. He struck me as a shrewd, calm, knowledgeable man who knows exactly what he wants. He answered my questions the way I answer yours. There were no overtures or diplomatic waterworks.”
The most important idea of the book, which has become pronounced, in my opinion, is the demonstration of the geopolitical realism of Joseph Stalin and the USSR. In fact, Stalin is hardly ever directly present in the book. He operates behind the screen of events, behind the veil of negotiations and clashes of diplomats’ opinions, behind the geopolitical curtain. He is the demiurge of Soviet politics, its prime mover. But his presence does not become something ephemeral, secondary. On the contrary, he is, but in a hidden form, the main character of the book. Therefore, the reader’s impression is not contradictory because the book is called “Stalin’s Gamble,” i.e., risky game, and Stalin himself is not much in the book.
Thus, Stalin is drawn first of all as a realist. “Realism” is the first word one wants to say as a verdict on the impression of his portrait and his actions. In this regard, some features of Stalin’s personality and politics are important, which Michael Carley shows both in the portrait and in the special sketch, “Stalin as Businessman” (pp. 44–45). Here we should recall Michael Carley’s words from his 2019 presentation of his book, The Secret War, in which he remarked: “It may surprise you, but the Bolsheviks ended up being good businessmen.” The assessment of Stalin as a “Georgian kulak” (p. 45) is quite characteristic: “Stalin haggled like a kulak when it came to business, but even a kulak would close the deal on acceptable terms” (p. 44). This implies a certain detachment by Michael Carley from the problems of ideology, ideological confrontation between Soviet Russia and capitalist countries, i.e., the rest of the world. But, nevertheless, ideology and the struggle of ideas are present as a hidden background to the struggle of people.
Thus, to show vividly not Stalin himself, but the foreign policy of Stalin and the Soviet Union as a chain of realistic plans and resulting actions—this is the main intention of the author. Stalin’s Gamble is a political and diplomatic activity of Stalin and the Soviet government based on a sober assessment of the real geopolitical situation and the real prospects for its development in the 1930s. Why is there a “risk” here, and why does the author specifically focus on it? What did Stalin risk? Why is his political and diplomatic “game” called risky? The point is this. The Second World War was predetermined by the results of the First, and the arrival of Hitler and subsequent events—it is a pattern: the continent inevitably rolled to war. The reason for this was the irrecoverable contradictions between the great powers and Germany’s existential dissatisfaction with the results of the First World War: the entire Versailles-Washington system of world relations, which emerged on the basis of the Versailles Peace Treaty of 1919 and the decisions of the Washington Conference of 1921–1922. This system, which was created by the victorious states in World War I—Great Britain, France, the United States, and Japan—was considered short-term by almost all politicians, ideologists, and thinkers of those years, since it certainly did not eliminate, but on the contrary, exacerbated, the contradictions between the leading world powers. The risk was not to provoke military confrontations accidentally, prematurely; and the goal was to delay the beginning of any conflicts, not only military ones, as long as possible in order to better prepare for future military confrontations. Hence the range of Stalin’s plans and actions; hence the incredible stamina of Soviet diplomacy, the calmness and absence of paroxysms and convulsive movements. The risk also consisted in the unpredictability, nervousness and schizophrenic nature of the policy of the leading and small European countries, especially Poland. Dealing with unpredictable “partners” is always a risky venture.
As already mentioned, Professor Carley emphatically avoids ideological problems, including those related to internal Soviet policy, the construction of socialism and the establishment of a new socio-political order, its ideological framing, etc. Realpolitik serves as a natural defense for the author and his main characters (diplomats) against reproaches from different sides related to the sphere of ideas and ideological confrontation. And this approach is justified, because, according to Michael Carley, “Stalin calmed the Bolshevik itch to pursue world revolution and launched a five-year plan for industrialization and collectivization of agricultural lands. The troubles created by these domestic policies were an additional incentive to maintain correct relations with the Western powers” (p. 7). Stalin was able to separate ideology from politics and geopolitics, to subordinate ideology to the tasks and goals of the state. For example, the entry of the USSR into the League of Nations was dictated by current geopolitical imperatives, but contradicted the ideology of Marxism—and Stalin was able to implement this act, despite the ideological conflicts.
Two narrative plans are generally distinguishable.
The first is the USSR’s relations with the countries of Europe. These relations are characterized by the highest degree of contradiction, clashes of ambitions and political desires, chaotic and opaque, waves of emotions, violent passions—intense Shakespearean drama. Michael Carley writes: “It was always thus in European politics, wheels turning inside wheels, knives all the time ready to be unsheathed, to stab another in the back. That was what passed for diplomacy during the 1930s” (p. 29). The relations between the USSR and Europe are constant fluctuations, staggers, and jumps. It is a sphere of impulsiveness and nervousness; it is an eternal obsessive-compulsive disorder, manic-depressive psychosis (literally!) of European politicians and diplomats. The author manages to show all these traits very well.
Let us take Poland as an example. Poland’s foreign policy with its eternal convulsions and epileptic seizures turning into epileptic status is vividly and characteristically shown. Michael Carley’s final verdict is precise and merciless: Poland in the described years was “settling into its role as spoiler of European collective security” (p. 187). Poland in the person of its politicians and diplomats acted illogically, irrationally; obeying not reason but some psychotic motives of resentment, desire for revenge, hatred. But this policy of Poland, if it can be called a policy, was stable in terms of permanent psychosis—this country did not deviate from the “line of psychosis” and its policy was psychosis par excellence. Indeed, it is difficult to understand the Polish intentions and actions of those years towards rapprochement with Germany, which determined the well-known policy of flirting with Hitler and hostility towards the USSR—even though Hitler’s attitude towards the Slavs was perfectly well known in Poland. Here is the testimony of the Soviet writer and poet, Stalin Prize winner Konstantin Simonov: “Poland continued to be hostile to us, although it was not clear how it could be on the side of Germany, and yet it remained hostile to us in defiance of logic.” The key words here are “in defiance of logic;” and this applies not only to Poland!
However, in my opinion, the example of France, a country of permanent hysteria and depression, mania and obsession, is particularly vivid in showing the turmoil and vacillation of Euro-diplomacy in the years before the war. By the way, it is quite providential and certainly not accidental that the first neuroleptics were a gift to the world from the pharmacists of France. In 1950, Chlorpromazine appeared in France, and in 1952 French psychiatrists discovered its antipsychotic activity. They were also the first to propose the term “neuroleptic.” Soon, Chlorpromazine became widely known in the USA under the trade name “Thorazine,” and in the USSR as “Aminazin.” Its main use is in the management of acute psychosis, but also in the long-term treatment of schizophrenia. The drug is used to this day. This is an interesting fact, which at first glance has nothing to do with politics, let alone diplomacy. However, everything in the world and in politics is interconnected: by the way, it was French postmodernist intellectuals Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari who firmly linked schizophrenia and capitalism in a treatise called Capitalisme et schizophrénie (Volume 1, 1972; Volume 2, 1980).
And one more diversion from the topic and from the book, historical and political. Descriptions of French politics and the actions of French diplomats bring to mind one interesting episode from the history of France—”The Dreyfus Affair” (L’Affaire Dreyfus), the echoes of which in the described period of the country’s history have not yet subsided. In the course of the events known as “the Dreyfus Affair,” a special stratum of people was born, i.e., intellectuals, cultural and scientific figures who began to deal with political problems. The first intellectuals were the writer Émile Zola and the politician Georges Clemenceau. Many of the French politicians and diplomats who act in the pages of Professor Carley’s book were in one way or another in contact with or involved in the Dreyfus affair. The Dreyfus affair at the beginning of the twentieth century became an event of incredible public resonance and political impact in France and around the world, making history. To summarize, the political essence of the Dreyfus affair was the confrontation between the supporters of the republic, democracy and the secular state—with monarchists, nationalists and clerics. The Dreyfus affair is covered in great detail in my book, Intellectuals and Politics. Norberto Bobbio’s Conception of the Political Role of Intellectuals in the Cultural and Historical Context of the 20th Century.
But let us return to Michael Carley’s book.
The second plan of the narrative is the relations between the USSR and the USA, which in the described period got their start. These relations were certainly not easy and partly dramatic, but there was much more logic and sense in them than in the nervous and tumultuous relations of the USSR with the eternally divided Europe—and especially England, which in turn was in very difficult and contradictory relations with both Europe and Russia. It is quite clear that the policy of rapprochement between the two future superpowers was at the center of Stalin’s attention and was his initiative. The leader of the USSR removed any obstacles from this path, and Carley directly shows that in this regard, “Stalin had set the priorities” (p. 188) and did not deviate to them. Establishing stable relations with the United States was one of the first priorities of Stalin’s policy.
In the relations between the USSR and the USA, the development of which in the years covered by the book was quite dramatic, there were all sorts of events. Therefore, much attention is focused on the old conflict between ideologists and entrepreneurs: “It was the old split between ideologues and businessmen in search of contracts in the USSR” (p. 38). Accordingly, the theme of the confrontation between ideology and real politics, or, one could say, ideology and trade, is implicitly raised here. Michael Carley shows very well that, when necessary, claims were postponed in favor of trade interests—after all, Americans are first of all traders, and then politicians, ideologists, religious adherents. Clearly, the whole situation with American-Soviet relations changed dramatically with the arrival of Franklin Roosevelt, who was able to muffle the opposition to the recognition of the USSR. The book, among other things, gives a portrait of William Bullitt (p. 195–204). He is a figure of much significance, partly mysterious. According to some hypotheses, the image of Woland from Mikhail Bulgakov’s novel Master and Margarita was written exactly from Bullitt.
At the same time, Michael Carley provides details that are little known to the Russian researcher, including his relationship with George Frost Kennan—and this despite the fact that in our country both these personalities have always been under close scrutiny, and it would seem that little could have escaped the inquisitive gaze of our historians and other scholars. This is true of his relations with John Reed and with his widow. But let us not dwell on these relations.
These are the two main plans of the diplomatic panorama, of which the first is full of confusion and a lot of unthinkable emotions, while the second is quite logical and can be reasonably analyzed. If we speak about the general summary of Stalin’s policy of the time described and in general, as a whole, it is well defined by the words of Stalin, which he uttered at the XVII Congress of the All-Union Communist Party of Bolsheviks in 1934. They are quoted by Professor Carley: “Our orientation in the past and our orientation at the present is towards the USSR and towards the USSR alone. And if the interests of the USSR demand rapprochement with one country or another which is not interested in disturbing the peace, we adopt this course without hesitation” (p. 153).
There is also an interesting hidden narrative plan, a certain hidden hero, who is not directly present in the book, but constantly appears in the background of the plot. This is the Comintern. However, it should be mentioned after Stalin’s political turn has been outlined.
The last hero, whose image is given vividly, but with enough restraint and scientific correctness, is a negative hero. This negative hero is interesting because at the time in question, he was still in his early age, in formation, as it were. Hence, in fact, the author’s deliberateness in his assessments, for at that time it was by no means clear to everyone what exactly would emerge from this “creature;” and Professor Carley observes the historical principle of eventuality. That hero is Germany, which very quickly made its aims and intentions clear—and the USSR was the first in Europe to be concerned with the problems of international security. According to Michael Carley, “the Politburo had approved a new policy based on the League and collective security to rein in Nazi Germany” (p. 202). The author of the book shows very well the essence of the new German policy, the goals of which the new leaders of this aggressive state did not hide. However, European politicians and diplomats, as well as elites in general, reacted extremely weakly and hesitantly to the clearly invasive plans—so far only plans—of Germany. Many, in particular Polish politicians, believed that German aggression would be directed exclusively at the Soviet Union and hoped to “warm their hands” on this. We know what this would lead to in the case of Poland in the near future. Others simply did not want to see the obvious—and “successfully” did not see it.
Soviet efforts were therefore unsupported, Soviet initiatives lost in the murky waters of the desires and secret lusts of the elites of England, France and small countries like Poland. Hitler, long before he came to power, had expressed his future plans in more than frank terms in his 1925 book—they were fantasies then. After 1933, any sober-minded person should have been wary: these ominous fantasies of the Fuhrer could easily be realized and had already been actively implemented. But no; only Soviet politicians and Soviet ideologists took Hitler’s writings seriously, while Western politicians passed him by. Michael Carley tirelessly emphasizes that despite all the efforts of the USSR: “Soviet calls for unity went unheeded. European elites would not believe what they saw before their eyes or could read in Mein Kampf. One by one, the potential members of an anti-Nazi coalition fell away” (p. 508).
Interestingly, the attribution of sinister plans not to the German Führer, who, once again, did not hide them and subsequently realized them, but to Stalin—is characteristic of some modern European historians and especially propagandists. Michael Carley says: “Many Western historians have long held, and now more than ever, that Stalin, whatever he might say, was still the ruthless, lying, unscrupulous Bolshevik bent on world revolution. The Soviet offers of cooperation against Nazi Germany were bogus, a ruse de guerre, and so on” (p. 508). Here it is also necessary to quote the words of Professor Carley, said at the presentation of Stalin’s Gamble in July 2024: “My critics have a very poor understanding of why the main theme of my books is that the Soviet Union was the only state in the 1930s really committed to organizing collective security and mutual aid against Nazi Germany.”
But attributing lies is an old and proven technique of Western anti-Soviet and anti-Russian propaganda. And the that the facts say otherwise is of little concern to anyone. Here it is necessary to focus on what Carley’s book does not say, but it was not in the scientist’s plans. I will allow myself to clarify a number of important points about the world revolution and attributing to Stalin and the USSR in general plans to ignite the “world fire.” Related to this is the “demonization” of the Comintern, which is well described in the book. We will speak about the so-called Stalinist “conservative turn,” or “Stalin’s turn” of the 1930s. This excursion, as I believe, is important for a deeper understanding of the world events of those years and of Michael Carley’s book itself.
The theme of the “Stalin’s turn,” implemented by Joseph Stalin since the early 1930s, is not very well researched in scientific literature and journalism—post-Soviet and foreign. It has been written about at different times and from different positions by a variety of authors: scientists, politicians, ideologists. Let us mention the names of Leon Trotsky with his Betrayed Revolution; Georgy Fedotov with his concept of “Stalinocracy;” Mikhail Agursky with his very controversial, but very important book, Ideology of National Bolshevism; the famous ideologist of National Bolshevism Nikolai Ustryalov; Sergey Dmirtievsky with his book Stalin; Nikolai Timasheff with his famous monograph, The Great Retreat. These thinkers, politicians and publicists were contemporaries of the Stalin era. Let us also name the modern researchers of the problem of “Stalin’s turn”: Vladimir Paperny with his famous book, Culture Two, David Brandenberger with his concept of Stalin’s Russocentrism; author of interesting works on the development of historical thought in Stalin’s time, Alexander Dubrovsky; Vadim Rogovin and his book Stalin’s Neo-NEP; Vadim Kozhinov and his book, Russia. The 20th century (1901–1939); Alexander Vdovin and his monograph, The Russian Nation in the 20th Century (Russian, Soviet, Russian in the ethnopolitical history of Russia); Yuri Zhukov and the books, Stalin’s People’s Empire and Another Stalin.
The earliest reactions and assessments belong to Stalin’s opponent, Lev Trotsky. The meaning of Trotsky’s assessments can be expressed in his own words, which are accusatory in nature—Betrayed Revolution, Thermidor, Counter-Revolution. Trotsky’s main works of this plan were written from 1936 onwards. The philosopher Georgy Fedotov assessed the internal political changes in the USSR and the new foreign policy rhetoric associated with them in approximately the same way and at the same time. He called them “counter-revolution carried out from above” and “liquidation of communism.” When reading Fedotov’s critical essays, one is sometimes surprised, although this philosopher was not a follower of Trotsky, nor was he a politician at all, his works nevertheless give the impression that they were written by a convinced Trotskyist.
Stalin’s “conservative turn,” as it is often called, is a turn from internationalism to ethnocentrism and related patriotism, to nation-centrism and state-centrism. This chain of events, inspired personally by Stalin, has often been called the “Stalinist revolution from above.” The ideas of the world proletarian revolution and the unity of the proletariat of the entire world receded into the background. On the contrary, the ideas of patriotism, love for the Motherland and the Soviet state were glorified and exalted. The principles of revolutionary legality were discarded, while the traditional understanding of law returned. In legal terms, scholars often speak of a turn to the traditional legal order. The state, its needs and prospects, its strength and stability—this was at the center of Stalin’s thought and activity.
Scientific coverage of the whole chain of changes was first given in Nikolai Timashev’s large panoramic work, The Great Retreat (1946). The most precise definition of the essence of these events, as I think, belongs to Igor Shabalin, the author of the book of memoirs, Witness of the Era of Socialism, who is practically unknown in the West and little known in Russia; he defines these events as “the turn of the policy of waiting for the World October Revolution and its preparation for the policy of the Absolute State.”
Undoubtedly, the changes were very important and sometimes unexpected. That is why the interest in them was serious and deep. Scholars study the causes and course of the turnaround, innovations in rhetoric, new practices, partial revival of pre-revolutionary traditions and symbols, and innovations in culture (primarily architecture and literature). The names of great Russian poets and writers, military leaders and figures of science and culture, and even tsars, who had been expunged by the ultra-revolutionary persecutors of everything “old” and “reactionary,” returned to Soviet culture. The revolutionaries, the fighters against tsarism, who knew nothing but how to destroy and “fight,” themselves began to be persecuted. Ironically, they were accused of counter-revolutionary activity.
The turnaround was a wave of tremendous force. It seemed that not only the names of the tsars were about to return, but also the tsar himself—now the red emperor in the person of Stalin. Georgy Fedotov in his article, “Stalinocracy,” argues that Stalin is the “red tsar,” and the new regime fully deserves the name of monarchy. But in the same article, the philosopher thinks about why there is no rejection of Marxism, since this doctrine has been discarded; why this “decoration” remains in force, “why at every step, cheating on it and even mocking it, sanctimoniously mutter old formulas?” Obviously, and this is well understood by Fedotov, the Soviet power cannot exist without ideology. He writes: “Every power needs a certain ideology. Despotic, totalitarian power more than any other. But to create an ideology corresponding to the new system anew is obviously an impossible task for the current rulers of Russia.”
Of course, equating the entire sum of changes in the USSR with the rejection of communism, the rejection of Bolshevism, etc., is a strong simplification, a rigorism that is very far from reality. No one was going to create a new ideology, because no “new ideology” was needed for a state in which private property was abolished, all means of production belonged to the state, and all people became workers in the service of the Soviet state. The return of the names of Peter the Great, Ivan the Terrible, Alexander Nevsky, Minin and Pozharsky, ranks and epaulettes up to the rank of general, academic degrees of candidate and doctor of sciences—all this did not lead to the return of private property and the abolition of universal state ownership. Nor did it mean the “abolition” of Marxism as the only ideology. Marxism as an ideology was well suited to the new Soviet etatism.
In this respect, the history of the Comintern, its fate in the 1930s, and the ambiguous attitude of European ideologists and politicians to this powerful organization become clear. This attitude was ambivalent. On the one hand, the Comintern was used as “proof” of the allegedly aggressive plans of the Soviet state, which, according to this logic, set the goal of its policy to overthrow Western governments, ignite the fire of revolution everywhere, etc. Related to this was the West’s fear of “the Comintern and the red flag” (p. 193). On the other hand, the actual actions of Western politicians do not tell us about the West’s serious concerns about the Comintern. On the third hand, the Comintern often got under the feet of Soviet diplomats, preventing them from pursuing their objectives. This was due, of course, to the special ideological orientation of the Comintern, whose activities until 1935, when the last, 7th Congress of the Comintern was held, were determined by the principles of world revolution, general proletarian uprising, etc. Professor Carley rightly asserts: “On the other hand, during the 1920s, the Comintern, [was] the nemesis of the NKID as well as of the West” (p. 6).
Yes, of course, Professor Carley rightly argues that “the West’s bête noire in Moscow was the Communist International, or Comintern, established in 1919, not only to pursue the cause of world revolution, but also to defend Soviet Russia against foreign intervention” (p. 4). However, the rigid ideology and ideological rigorism of the Third International already around the beginning of the 1930s began to interfere with this second task. It became necessary to redirect the Comintern’s activities and to change its general leadership. This was done in 1935, when the Comintern’s tasks were essentially subordinated to those of Soviet foreign policy. This stratum of Soviet history is talentedly revealed by Carley: “A persistent idea survives that the Comintern conducted Soviet foreign policy during the interwar years, or that the priorities of world revolution dominated it. ‛National interest’ was not a concept much in use in Moscow. Such assertions do not stand up well in a close examination of Soviet archives. After Stalin consolidated his power, the Comintern faded into the background” (p. 7).
Stalin adjusted the structure and management of the Comintern—and as a result, foreign policy stopped suffocating in the ideological grip: “Even capitalists were getting used to the Comintern. It was, like a stone in your rubber boot, which you could not take off until you stepped out of the bog. Among the Western powers, the said and unsaid idea was that the Soviet Union should abandon socialism and embrace capitalism, thus behaving like every other state. Why should Stalin and his colleagues do that? Would capitalists ever abandon capitalism?” (p. 7). The reproaches of Western politicians became rather ritual phrases and “indignant” speeches made “from old memory”—this is what Carley means when he writes that “ironically, the Comintern formally went over to a ‛united front’ strategy against fascism in 1935, which instead of reassuring Anglo-French conservatives, disquieted them even more” (p. 323).
At the very beginning of the book, Carley emphasizes his approach: “I have never been much interested in ‛theories’ of history. I mean intellectual constructs unsupported by legitimate forms of evidence, or an archival base when apposite” (p. x). Indeed, in Stalin’s Gamble, the author makes few generalizations, does not create a special theoretical base, almost no analogies. But this does not mean that Carley as a historian is completely alien to theory, to historiosophy. Thus, the first book of the trilogy, The Secret War, begins with the proclamation of the purely historiosophic principle that the Cold War began with the October Revolution: “Most Western historians believe that the Cold War began after World War II, but in fact the great ideological struggle between the West and Soviet Russia began in 1917, the day the Bolsheviks seized power in Petrograd, the capital of Russia. ‛Red Menace’ and containment policies emerged in 1918–1919, not 1946–1947. At first, the conflict was not a ‛cold’ war at all – it was scalding hot. The Bolsheviks advocated world socialist revolution, stunning and enraging Western leaders…. The Soviet vision of a hostile capitalist world was by no means surreal. The Western powers were determined to destroy Soviet power, they only lacked the means to realize their intentions.” It should be noted that a similar concept that the beginning of the Cold War was the October Revolution of 1917 was developed by Donald Davis and Eugene Trani in The First Cold War. The First Cold War: The Legacy of Woodrow Wilson in U.S.-Soviet Relations.”
The fact that there is almost no historiosophy in the second book of the trilogy, does not mean that the author is somehow removed from the problems of theoretical generalization of historical material, because Professor Carley is a scientist. That is simply the intention of this book. In other works he touches upon essential questions of the theory of history and offers a conceptual vision of the analyzed historical material. And for the sake of completeness of the picture this must be mentioned. Of course, my task is to review Stalin’s Gamble, and I cannot deviate much from this task. But I will say a few words about Carley’s article, “Separating the Wheat from the Chaff: the Origins of the Second World War,” published in the Russian Journal of Russian and East European Studies in 2019. In it, he makes important generalizations for a deeper understanding of this book and, consequently, for the achievement of our task. In this article, he clearly states his task, expressing outrage that in recent years there has been an increasing tendency in France and England to fully justify the policy of appeasement of Germany. He writes that under the influence of ideological imperatives, “historical assessments are changing, and a new generation of historians have doubted that France was plunged into the abyss and Britain was brought to its brink by members of a blind and rotten elite. They insist that the French and British governments had neither the means nor the weapons to rearm, so they were forced to delay the outbreak of war at all costs. Appeasement was not an act of cowardice; it was a ‛rational step’ necessary to buy time.”
A kind of “Western consensus” has been established, the essence of which is to equate the role of the USSR and Hitler’s Germany in unleashing World War II, while the Western countries had “nothing to do with it.” All these trends undermine the truth of history and turn history into banal propaganda. This is what Carley opposes. The truth, however, is not very pleasant for the European “appeasers” of Hitler in the 1930s. Indeed, it was better for the Western states of those years to have the reputation of naive simpletons than of calculating geopolitical swindlers who wanted to “grab their piece” and pretended to try to “appease” someone who could not be appeased.
Carley expands on this, arguing that for European elites, “the big question of the 1930s was ‛who was the number one enemy’, Nazi Germany or the USSR? And all too often the elites, not all but many, gave the wrong answer. They preferred rapprochement with Nazi Germany to collective security and mutual aid with the USSR. Fascism epitomized for European elites power, might, and masculinity.” And further: “In the fall of 1936, the Soviet Union’s attempts to build a system of collective security finally failed, and the USSR found itself in isolation. No one wanted to unite with Moscow against Nazi Germany; all the countries mentioned above were negotiating with Berlin to ward off the wolf from their own doorstep. Even Czechoslovakia. Overtly or tacitly, everyone hoped that Hitler would turn East—against the USSR.”
All of these reasons motivated Carley to write a true story and true books.
Thus, Michael Carley’s book shows a dynamic picture of Soviet foreign policy, with its twists and turns and diplomatic curtsies, the firmness of Western powers and the determination of Soviet diplomacy. For modern Russian science, Carley’s s book is an unexpected and pleasant find, a gift, because usually from Western authors few people expect serious, thoughtful and, most importantly, calm research on the subject of the USSR and Stalin. Therefore, it is doubly, triply happy to see such a fundamental study, made on the basis of archival materials. By the way, the book was very warmly received by the Russian scientific community and Russian political publicists. And this is a good sign!
How instructive is all this history—that which is described in Carley’s trilogy—for us, for our own day? After all, his books on the complex period between the First and Second World Wars contain many important observations that can provide food for thought about the contemporary politics of European and Eastern European countries. Are there parallels and analogies between those events and the realities of today? I believe that these questions should be left open.
For complete references, please consult the original:
Featured: Stalin’s Kindness Enlightens the Future of Our Children; USSR poster, 1947.
