The Bolsheviks and the Jews

      Soon after the Bolshevik coup, a writer for the “Kadet” publication Jewish Week reported his observations on the civil servant strike then taking place. In particular, he was interested in those who were going to the Labor Ministry in search of jobs replacing the striking workers. The list of those interested numbered more than 300 individuals.

      “I had a distinctly negative impression of those gathered,” wrote M. Levin in an article titled “A Sad Event” (Grustnoe iavlenie), “they were most striking in their lack of intelligence and composure. There were some refugees from the Baltics, soldiers, young women who had never worked anywhere, etc. One could immediately tell that these individuals who wanted to be ‘mobilized into the service’ were completely incapable of replacing the real workers. The entire ‘mobilization’ turned out to be a farce.”¹

      Levin was struck by the number of Jews among the would-be strike-breakers. In talking with some of them, he discovered that “they are not Bolsheviks, and in general are not interested in politics. They are simply looking for something to do and are ready to take advantage of the opportunity.” The author was dismayed that “all of these young people felt no shame whatsoever. One young Jewess even boasted to her friend that the commissar had requested that she show up the very next day, as she was able to copy documents quickly.”²

      A writer from the Zionist publication Rassvet (Dawn) was likewise ironic:

      I have no statistics at hand, but a good half of my acquaintances at least have entered the civil ser vice; our children's teacher (a Jew) has gone to work at the Department of War. I ran into the “untershames” [a synagogue assistant] from our congregation. He was walking around with a rifle on his shoulder, carrying on like he was some kind of militia member. A local reporter has become the commissioner of snow removal, a salesman from the local kosher shop is on some committee or other that's working on the constitution, my tenant, a first rate psycho, is working in provisions (though I have no idea what it is he is supposed to be providing), and my secretary is running some kind of fortress or prison.³

      The writer I. F. Nazhivin recalled a visit he paid to V. D. Bonch-Bruevich, who at that time was in charge of the Sovnarkom. He had hoped to receive permission to go abroad. The meeting took place after the Soviet government had already been relocated to Moscow:

      I arrived at the Kremlin at the indicated time. I went to the offices of the Sovnarkom, which at the time was located in the court building. All over the place there were Latvians, Jews, Jews, and more Jews. I have never been an antisemite, but the sheer number of them made it impossible to ignore. And they were all still wet behind the ears.⁴

      In this case it is easy to compare Nazhivin's impressions with the actual list of those people who were working at the Sounarkon at this time. Nearly 30 people⁵ were employed there, including the second secretary Ia. Sh. Arganov (the future Chekist), Ia. I. Liberman and L. I. Morgenshtern, assistants to the secretary, expediter B. Ia. Belenkaia, registrar M. R. Grosman and typist S. M. Livshits.⁶ In other words, nearly one-fifth of the employees there were Jews. This rate was the same for the other offices of the Sovnarkom as well; of the 105 individuals given permission to eat in the Sovnarkom canteen, about 20 were Jews.⁷ This was more than enough to make their presence “impossible to ignore.” V. G. Korolenko, who had lived in Poltava and considered himself a semitophile, experienced similar feelings: “There are a lot of Jewish boys in the Red Guard, which is a bit irritating, especially as many of those in charge are Jews.”⁸

      Of course, for many the problem was not (only) in the number of Jews. It bears repeating that only a few months earlier, Jews had been forbidden from occupying high posts in the state apparatus. They were not even allowed to do technical work. Such a sudden change could not pass unnoticed. Jews had begun to play a role in society that they had never played before.

      “To the local mentality this was one of the most surprising phenomena. Something had become real that earlier on had seemed possible only in fantasy. Large numbers of the Jewish semi-educated class were attracted en masse to the organizational and distribution departments of the government,” recalled Ia. A. Bromberg, a cadet from the Konstantin military academy in Kiev who had fought against the Bolsheviks in Kiev in November 1917. He was shocked to see “a Jewish soldier among the Sanhendrin of commissars” who subjected him to a “tortuous and meaningless interrogation”: “The timid and peaceful Jew, who in earlier times would have gladly dived into the nearest available hole upon encountering any outsider…disturbing nothing, lest he himself be harmed, [now] turned out to be a part of, and even in charge of, the most notorious bands of thugs.”⁹

      A. A. Borman, son of the famous Kadet A. V. Tyrkova-Williams, joined the Soviet civil service in early spring of 1918 as part of an undercover mission on behalf of the Volunteer Army. According to his memoirs, the Metropol Hotel, which was inhabited mostly by important Soviet officials, was filled with people, “who were attached to the present government only as a result of their material well-being.” “Bureaucrats, merchants, Jews from the Pale,” that was how the “secret agent inside the Kremlin” described the roster of the Sovnarkom.¹⁰

      The Metropol, where most of the Soviet elite lived, had been renamed the Second House of Soviets. The other famous Moscow hotel (The National) was renamed the First House of Soviets. On June 2, 1918, 148 government officials or party activists (not including family members) resided in the former “National.” About 30 of these were Jews. Not all of them were Bolshevik Party members; part of the building belonged to the Left SRs. These latter included Party leader B. D. Kamkov (Katz), Chekist G. D. Zaks, Central Committee members Ia. M. Fishman, L. M. Braginskii, V. M. Levin and others could be counted among the denizens of the First House of the Soviets. After the Left SRs revolt on July 6, many inhabitants of the First House went on to meet a variety of fates. Kamkov, after numerous arrests and periods in exile, was eventually shot in 1938. Zaks joined the Bolsheviks and, like many of his comrades, was executed in 1937. Levin managed to emigrate to the United States. But for the time being at least, they and the other Left SRs, including Maria Spiridonova and V. A. Aleksandrovich (then Dzerzhinsky's deputy), were neighbors and allies of their future persecutors and executioners, the Chekists I. K. Ksenofontov and Ia. Kh. Peters.¹¹

      According to Borman, most of the Soviet civil servants had little love for the Bolsheviks at first. However, “having settled in to their new jobs they quickly changed and began to fear new changes more than anything else…Officers of the General Staff raced each other in their desire for additional perks. Old, decent workers in the Justice Ministry convinced themselves that they had to serve the new authorities faithfully. The rationalizations were the most primitive: better to let what is remain, otherwise