But he also had a sense of strategy in foreign affairs. Stalin may have been absolute master at home, but he had the modern countries all against him, and a war was going on, pointlessly, in the middle of Korea. In 1945, when Hitler’s Germany had been smashed, the USSR had been in alliance with the West, and various arrangements for the post-war period had been drawn up. From Beria’s viewpoint, these had gone very badly wrong: the West had been misplayed. NATO now existed and it united western Europe, despite the existence in France and Italy of strong Communist parties; West Berlin was a leech attached to a main artery of the Soviet system; West German industry was recovering fast and would clearly be used for the rearmament of the country. The same was coming to pass in Japan. What had the USSR got in return for this? Peasant countries on her borders, each quite complicated. It had also gained East Germany, now dressed up as the ‘German Democratic Republic’, but everyone knew that it was a fake state. The chief element was that American troops were stationed in western Europe, that nuclear weaponry was in the air, that western Europe was overcoming the post-war crises, and American officials were all around, to encourage freer trade, both within Europe and with the USA. From Moscow’s viewpoint this was all very alarming, maybe presaging a general attack, and in his last years Stalin himself expected a war. Beria knew different: no-one knowing, through the extraordinarily highly placed Soviet spies, what was really being calculated in the West could have any serious idea that it would go to war. If NATO existed, if the Americans maintained a military presence in Europe, this was purely in response to Soviet provocations - a long list of cruelty and unnecessary aggression, including even the continued use of old Nazi concentration camps. There were still some idealists who chose to go and live in the ‘German Democratic Republic’, or ‘the other Germany’ - Bertolt Brecht the main one, though there were other men and women who had detested California. Disillusionment followed.
At this stage, German reunification was still a matter for diplomatic competition. The West argued for free elections, and meanwhile got the United Nations, which the West at the time controlled, to set up a commission to study the subject (it was refused entry to East Germany). At the time, there was also question of a German contribution to defence - the European Defence Community being the chief vehicle for this, and part of the post-Marshall arrangements that were the basis of the later European unification. This of course worried Moscow - she had always feared an alliance against her of the entire West, Germany included. Now, some of those same German generals who had reached Leningrad, Moscow, the lower Volga and the Caucasus were apparently being groomed again for an attack. Stalin himself had responded with a note, of 10 March 1952, which became famous, and over the interpretation of which some foolish historical statements have been made. He proposed the formation of a German government, to include the East; it would be recognized for the purposes of a peace treaty; Germany would be neutral,
i.e.
would not join any Western organization at all, including the economic ones; and might have her own army; and would be able to return civil and political rights. East German Communists proudly assured the Left-leaning Italian socialist Pietro Nenni that they would soon be in much the same position as the Italian Communist Party,
i.e.
waiting in the wings for power. Stalin also still had millions of prisoners in his thrall, whose return would be a considerable gift. The aim, overall, was at German national sentiment - there was even mention of giving political rights back to SS men - at the very moment when treaties signed in Bonn and Paris for a European army were supposed to be ratified, and the timing was not coincidental. The three Western powers consulted, and they then put the question as to free elections; they also said that a future German government should be free to choose alliances. The exchanges went on until September, always failing on these two points, since the USSR would never accept a united Germany, allied with the West, and despite some effort with the small print, never accepted that the elections would be really free. Anti-Cold War historians held the Stalin note up as evidence that the man was sincere about German neutrality and unification, ‘Finlandization’ as it came to be called, but subsequent evidence shows that he gave the matter much thought - the note went through fourteen versions, three of them annotated by him - and seems to have been possessed by the notion that he could deliver a Communist Germany, just as Czechoslovakia had produced a strong Party. The Party of Socialist Unity (Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschland, or SED) in East Germany was groomed for control of the entire country, and was told to accelerate ‘the construction of socialism’ in April 1950. The next Party congress, in July, went ahead with collectivization of agriculture, heavy-industrial plans and the extinction of small-scale trade and workshops. If Stalin did not get the Germany he wanted, he would in other words at least get his bit of Germany to fall into line.
In any event, the West Germans quite clearly preferred their freedom to their national unification. Adenauer, the Christian Democratic leader, was certain that there could be no honest arrangement with the USSR and was determined to go ahead with the Western programme, even if that meant accepting a divided Germany. He worried that the West might let him down, with some Allied conference that would leave Germany at Moscow’s mercy - some European security arrangement of the sort had even been suggested by an American Secretary of State (James F. Byrnes) in 1946. He also had an argument, that a prosperous and democratic West Germany would in the end act as a magnet for the East as a whole: and so indeed it did, though Adenauer (and the Frenchman, Schuman) were reckoning on up to ten years, and not nearly forty. The West Germans went ahead with rearmament plans and even conscription, although many of the Social Democrats detested the idea, as for that matter did some of the Christian Democrats. The French, too, had swallowed their doubts, despite threats of ‘Guns for Huns’. The Soviet side had offered (and Molotov stressed the offer again in 1954) some European security system that would include the USSR but exclude the USA and of course NATO Germany. This idea, to be launched with the sort of large international conference that the USSR could quite easily manipulate (the other countries being divided among themselves, with a number of small ones to cause trouble), was now in the air. It was ‘Europe for the Europeans’, and it later grew nuclear-free extrapolations; in time it became ‘our common European home’ - a famous enough expression, later on, under Gorbachev, but promoted before him by much harder men. The idea was not unpopular in some circles in Germany and elsewhere, and even had attractions on the Right. But there was one unshakably strong argument against it: Stalin and all his works, particularly the repulsive little state in East Germany. Its capital, East Berlin, had been rebuilt in homage to Moscow. The centre, the Alexander-Platz, was a gigantic field of concrete, and off it marched the Stalin-Allee, another hideous boulevard of concrete, with a peculiar smell, partly made-up of local low-quality coal and partly of the Soviet method of oil refinery. Along it went lorries, packed with rubble, and occasional large, curtained, black cars, carrying the unlovely Communist bosses. There was another peculiarity to East Berlin. Bomb damage did not mean that old buildings were torn down, as in the West. Instead, they were patched together, at least in areas such as the Schönhauser Allee or the Vinetastrasse, outside of the international gaze, ripe for ‘gentrification’ two generations down the line, but at the time almost uninhabitable. No German in his senses would want to live there.
The tensions of 1952 were such that Stalin was obviously thinking of a war, and he told Mao to prepare for one. Then came, perhaps in preparation for it, a new ‘purge’, both at home and in the satellite states, to dispose of potential traitors before they had time to act. He did not trust Jews at all, and they were, in the main, eliminated from leading positions in the satellite states, and from influential ones in Moscow, though the Budapest ones had an adhesive quality, and he sacrificed some gentiles instead. Paranoia of an extreme kind reigned, but Stalin was untouchable, had knees knocking, and his nominees, while secretly hating the system, could only wait for his death.
Such was the position on 5 March 1953. Beria, with understanding from Georgy Malenkov, now moved into the vacuum, took charge of things, and had a strategy of his own. In the first place, Stalin’s crude challenges to the West had left no room for the divisions within it. We now know, for instance, that the Americans were not really using West Germany as a tool against the USSR: up to 1950, they regarded Bonn as a provisional solution, and one that had been forced upon them; they still used the machinery set up at Potsdam. But then had come the Korean War, and in 1952 Eisenhower was elected President on a strongly anti-Soviet platform: he seemed even to be saying that the USA should make use of its then enormous superiority in nuclear weapons. The Germans themselves were divided, and the one argument that Adenauer could always use was that East Germany was a tyrannically run place - no advertisement for life under ‘socialism’. The new leaders were clearly anxious to soften the line, and various things followed from this - on 27 March a limited amnesty (10,000 people, including Molotov’s Jewish wife); on 4 April, release of the imprisoned doctors of the ‘plot’; on 10 June, dropping of Soviet claims against Turkey; in June, resumption of relations with Yugoslavia and even Israel; in the same period, the Chinese at last made the vital concession in Korea, with an armistice declared in July. In fact, on 19 March the new leaders, including the true Stalinist Molotov, agreed that the Korean War must be stopped, and the Chinese foreign minister, Chou En-lai, got his orders to that effect on 21 March, in Moscow.
To all of this there was a nuclear background: the USSR was weak in that respect, and needed respite from Stalin’s warring, his turning every neighbour into an enemy. The essential question remained Germany, and here there were divisions, with Molotov following the Party line, to the effect that a Communist East Germany was a necessity. Beria had other ideas, and probably regarded the Party with contempt. Why not try a new tactic altogether: prepare to get rid of East Germany, Walter Ulbricht and all, in exchange for a Germany that would collaborate economically and politically? Such was the model of Rapallo, the Italian town where, in 1922, the USSR and Republican Germany, bizarrely represented by elderly homosexuals in pyjamas, had entered upon semi-alliance. Then, the two countries, isolated, made an agreement that even included considerable German help for Soviet industry and for that matter Soviet help for the German military. A normal and parliamentary Germany, detached from the West? A sort of Finland? And if it meant getting rid of little Ulbricht, why not?
Of course, in the then Soviet system, such things were not written down, and when eventually ‘revelations’ from the archives emerged, they did not really reveal anything more than would have been known to readers of the
Reader’s Digest
at its purest. Even Walter Pieck, a lieutenant of Ulbricht’s, kept a diary in a code of a code of a summary. Stray lines in memoirs alone ensured that something of the truth emerged. Once Beria started to suggest sacrificing East Germany for a new Rapallo, a strange episode followed. East Germany had been whipped into following the Soviet course, and half a million of her people left, through Berlin. Walter Ulbricht was asking for Soviet economic assistance and was told to move more slowly with ‘the construction of socialism’. The Praesidium discussed this on 27 May and sent a Note to the East Germans. Such documents had a character all their own. There would be a thick framework of ‘wooden language’, unreadable if you were not initiated. Men who sat through six-hour speeches of industrial statistics at enormous Party gatherings, applauding at the right moments, with stewards lining the wall, holding stopwatches, and indicating ‘stop’ when the designated speaker’s designated applause had been completed, were indeed initiated. If they just listened, they would find that at some point there would be a passage meaning something. This was a way of demonstrating the leaders’ power (similarly, if one of them gave an interview, the technique was to answer a question at enormous length, boring the interviewer into the ground).
On 2 June the Soviet Note said the East German leadership should, ‘to make the present political situation more healthy and to consolidate our position in Germany and the international arena, act over the German question such as to create a united, democratic, peaceful and independent Germany’. This was referred to as a ‘new course’ and there was to be some liberalization in East Germany; some of the ‘construction of socialism’ measures were to be cancelled, and the Soviet Control Commission would be replaced by a civilian, Vladimir Semyonov, political adviser to the Control Commission, a member of the NKVD and close to Beria. He was to replace Ulbricht with more pliable figures - Rudolf Herrnstadt, editor of the Party newspaper, and Wilhelm Zaisser, head of East German security, also close to Beria. After all, even East German Communists were sometimes uncomfortable with being hated and lied to. At the same time reparations were ended, and the Soviet firms set up to exploit East Germany were disbanded. Beria was in effect giving some sense to the Stalin Note of March 1952 - not intending full-scale Communization of Germany but, instead, looking for co-operation or ‘Finlandization’. From 2 to 4 June there was a conference at Berlin, ‘the new course’ being explained to Ulbricht. He went ahead with some concessions as far as small trade and farmers were concerned, and he released a few hundred political prisoners, but he did nothing to lessen the load on the industrial workers. His goal was a Communist Germany. That had been the whole purpose of his life, and he probably had some sort of encouragement from within Moscow. Ulbricht knew how the system worked. He resisted the pressure, and instead launched a ‘provocation’ (meaning, in Continental and Communist parlance, an action designed to produce its opposite). He decreed at once, in mid-May, that each worker must produce 10 per cent more, while rations went down - equivalent to a drop in wages and an increase in hours worked. The provocation duly provoked trouble. On 16 June there were demonstrations in the very centre of ‘the construction of socialism’, by builders working on the grotesque Stalin-Allee. Did Beria’s enemies stage a provocation, to discredit ‘the new course’ and Beria, in collusion with Ulbricht and Pieck, who had been trotting in and out of Soviet offices? Or were the demonstrations just what they purported to be, a rising against exploitation? On 17 June the unrest spread, with workers in the big factories in other centres of industry joining in. That day, the Soviet authorities declared martial law and sent in tanks; some 200 people were killed. The whole episode gave the West, and West Germany in particular, excellent propaganda.