Politically and economically speaking, this last year has been a success for us, although it was darkened at its end by the death of Kirov. We have grown stronger, grown up, and begun to play a major global role. Our trajectory has risen steeply all the time. In particular, the past year has marked a turning point in Anglo-Soviet relations: the signing of the trade treaty, my summer talks with Vansittart, the British government’s declaration in favour of the Eastern Pact, the astonishing debates in parliament on 13 July, during which Churchill and Austen Chamberlain

Joseph Austen Chamberlain, Conservative MP, 1892–1937; elder half-brother of Neville Chamberlain; secretary of state for foreign affairs, 1924–29; architect of the Locarno Agreement, for which he received the Nobel Peace Prize, 1925.

declared themselves ‘friends’ of the Soviet Union and insisted on its admittance to the League of Nations – all this marks the onset of a new phase in relations between the USSR and Great Britain. Not that the English lords have suddenly developed an affection for us, the unwashed Bolsheviks – no, this is not the case and never will be. It’s just that the moment arrived when the skill at ‘facing the facts’ (whether pleasant or unpleasant) which is so characteristic of British politicians finally overcame their enmity towards us on grounds of class and politics. We have now become such a major and stable international force that, willy-nilly, even the most incorrigible Conservative beasts can ignore us no longer and are forced to ‘acknowledge’ our existence and, as inveterate political operators, to derive from us whatever profit they can. Well, let them try – it’s their right. But we are not sheep ourselves, to be shorn by anyone who wishes it. We’ll see ‘who beats whom’. In any case, the new tactics of the British bourgeoisie will force them to draw in their claws for a while, or at least to hide them better. Excellent. For now, this is in our interests. A new round in the history of Anglo-Soviet relations is beginning – we shall try to play it better…

How has the year been for me personally? I mull it over, recollect, sort out facts and dates. Agniya and I are both quite well. Feka

Feoktista (Feka) Poludova, Agniya’s sister. Her husband Poludov signed the ‘platform of 10’ letter against Stalin, was arrested and shot while she was banished to the gulag for eight years.

stayed with us in London for a month and we went on a very pleasant tour together of England and Scotland (Stratford-upon-Avon, Birmingham, Manchester, the English lakes, Glasgow, Edinburgh, the Scottish lakes, Newcastle, Sheffield, Nottingham). The trip took about a week (the end of July to early August). Alksnis,

Yakov Ivanovich Alksnis, commander of the Red Army air force, 1926–37; deputy people’s commissar for defence with responsibility for aviation in 1937.

Tupolev,

Andrei Nikolaevich Tupolev, eminent Soviet aircraft designer of 50 original aircraft and over 100 modifications of military bombers and civilian airliners, including the world’s first supersonic passenger plane. A victim of the repression in 1937.

Molokov,

Vasilii Sergeevich Molokov, distinguished Soviet air commander.

Levanevsky

Sigizmund Aleksandrovich Levanevsky, pilot; awarded the Hero of the Soviet Union in 1934.

and a host of other pilots and engineers came to London in late June for the air show in Hendon. We struck up friendships with Alksnis and Tupolev. Then we went on a two-and-a-half-month vacation to the USSR, both ways via Berlin. We were in Moscow, Leningrad (just me, Agniya didn’t travel), Kislovodsk, Sochi, Sukhumi, Gagra and Novy Afon. We put on some weight and blew out the cobwebs. I left the spa weighing 69 kilos. In the Caucasus, we became close friends with L. Polonsky.

Lev Polonsky and Elizaveta Polonskaya. Of Jewish–Russian background, Elizaveta studied medicine in the Sorbonne but became a popular writer after the revolution. In 1934 she published People of the Soviet Working Days, a volume of essays.

And that, I think, is about it. Not all that much and not all that interesting. Pale when compared with those truly major events which 1934 witnessed in the political, social and economic life of the USSR. And rather pale when compared with events in the sphere of Anglo-Soviet relations. But why pale? It’s how it should be: for communists, the personal must dissolve in the general, or, at the very least, retreat far into the background.

This dictum could hardly apply to Maisky. For his views on the role of personalities, see the ‘Introduction’.

The whole colony gathered in the embassy to celebrate the New Year. I had to say a few words, as usual. Then we drank, sang and danced. I must confess, though, that I was not in a particularly good mood. It had been ruined by my afternoon meeting with the Labour deputation on 31 December. This had left an unpleasant, bitter aftertaste. But I’ll write about the Labour deputation another time, all the more so as the incident is not yet over.

Labour protest against death sentences in the USSR

Undated memo attached to the diary, written around 3 January 1935.

The Labourites behaved fairly decently towards us until mid-December. True, none of them offered condolences upon Kirov’s death either personally or officially, but nor did any make official or semi-official protests against the execution of the terrorists. The Daily Herald also observed the rules of propriety. Telegrams from Moscow and all other types of information were quite tolerable. There was not a single editorial devoted to the executions.

In mid-December, however, the situation changed. First, on the evening of 15 December I received the Declaration of the 43, about which I telegraphed in due course. On the 17th, I invited the Coles, who initiated the Declaration, for a lengthy discussion. Comrades Kagan and Astakhov

Georgii Aleksandrovich Astakhov, counsellor at the Soviet embassy in London, 1934–35; chief of the press department of NKID, 1936–37; counsellor and temporary Soviet chargé d’affaires in Germany, 1937–39. Regarded as a Litvinov disciple, he was banished from the Foreign Ministry in 1939, accused of treason and sent to a labour camp, where he died in 1942.

took part in the conversation. As a result, the Coles agreed that they had made a mistake by issuing the Declaration without clarifying the facts with me beforehand. They also made the promise (which they upheld) to inform all who signed the Declaration of the 43 about the content of our conversation. On 18 December I met Pethick-Lawrence, former member of the Labour government and president of the Dimitrov Committee, who played a significant role before, during and after the Leipzig trial. At Dimitrov’s request, the committee continued functioning after his liberation and was engaged, in the main, with offering assistance to victims of fascist terror in Germany, Austria, the Balkans and elsewhere. Pethick-Lawrence expounded more or less the same thoughts as the Declaration of the 43. With him, too, I had a very long conversation, at the end of which he recognized the rightness of our position and promised to exert influence on the committee’s members in this regard. The statement of the 43 and the Dimitrov Committee reflected the attitudes of Labour’s left wing. The pronouncements were made in a cordial tone and bore an unofficial manner. Nothing appeared in the press. But although the group of 43 seemed to be friendly, it nevertheless composed its declaration without attempting to contact me and learn the true facts.

On 20 December, the Daily Herald published a thunderous editorial about the executions in the USSR. Late that evening, I received a letter signed by Henderson and Citrine which set out the content of the resolution passed earlier in the day by the National Joint Council (representing the General Council of the Trades Union Congress, the Executive Committee of the Labour Party, and the Executive Committee of the Parliamentary Labour Party). The letter asked me to name a date when I could receive a special Labour deputation to discuss the matter. The next morning, 21 December, the resolution of the National Joint Council appeared in all the London papers. It should be emphasized that none of the members of the National Joint Council had deemed it necessary to see me or any other member of the embassy before passing the resolution, in order to establish the true facts concerning the executions in the USSR. On the contrary, it is absolutely clear from the information at my disposal that Citrine, the main instigator of the National Joint Council’s anti-Soviet statement, had a conscious desire to prevent such a meeting. Citrine feared that if a meeting took place, it would become impossible to pass the anti-Soviet resolution. For this reason, discussion of the resolution was not even on the agenda of the Council’s meeting of 20 December. The Council members did not know in advance that this issue would be discussed. It was raised at the very end of the session under ‘Miscellaneous’ by Conley, last year’s president of the General Council of the Trades Union Congress. There is no doubt, however, that Conley’s speech had been prepared in advance by Citrine. Having contacted Moscow, I replied to the deputation on 24 December, agreeing to a meeting. As it was Christmas Eve, and all the Labourites were leaving London, I offered two dates: 28 or 31 December. Even the 28th was too early for them, so they came on 31 December.

It was an impressive deputation. Ten people came: Kean

William Kean, president of the General Council of the TUC, 1934–35.

(president of the General Council), Citrine (secretary of the General Council), and Hicks,

George Ernest Hicks, a trade unionist and Labour MP, 1931–50; TUC leader involved in the formation of the Anglo-Russian Joint Advisory Committee, 1925–27.

Pugh

Sir Arthur Pugh, secretary of the Iron and Steel Trades Confederation, 1917–37; chairman of both the TUC General Council and the Special Industrial Committee during the 1926 general strike.

and Bolton

W.J. Bolton, clerk, who during 40 years with the TUC became head of its international department.

from the Trades Union Congress; representing Labour were Lansbury (chairman of the parliamentary faction), Clynes

John Robert Clynes, deputy leader of the Labour Party, 1919 and 1922–31; lord privy seal, January–October 1924; home secretary, 1929–31.

(former home secretary in the Labour Cabinet), Adamson

William Adamson, Labour MP, 1910–31; secretary of state for Scotland, January–November 1924 and 1929–31.

(vice-chairman of the Executive Committee of the Labour Party), Lathan,

George Lathan, president of the National Federation of Professional Workers, 1921–37; member of Advisory Committee in the International Labour Office (Geneva), 1923–37.

and Middleton

James Smith Middleton, secretary of the Labour Party, 1934–44.

(secretary of the Labour Party). Our side was represented by myself, Comrade Kagan and Comrade Astakhov. Thus, nearly an entire parliament was assembled in my office.

The first to take the floor was Kean, president of the Trades Union Congress, who presented the delegation to me in a brief and official manner. The next and most important speaker was Citrine. His speech boiled down to the following. First, on behalf of the National Joint Council, he extended sympathy to the Soviet government for its great loss and expressed indignation towards those guilty of Kirov’s death. There followed a solemn declaration to the effect that the British Labour movement has always condemned struggle by terrorist means. Furthermore, Citrine assured us that interference in the internal affairs of the USSR was entirely alien to the deputation, as to the whole British Labour movement. On the contrary, the British Labour movement regards the USSR with great sympathy, as it had shown so clearly at the very beginning of the Russian Revolution and during the Soviet–Polish war. The British Labour movement understands the difficulties facing the USSR on internal and external fronts and therefore always tries, if at all possible, to refrain from public criticism of the Soviet government’s actions. But in this case the National Joint Council found itself forced to make an open statement.

The USSR is the only socialist state in the world. Although socialism was implemented there in a way which seemed incorrect to the British Labour movement – there should be no illusions about that – Labour considers our ultimate goals to be identical. Socialism was currently taking its exam in Russia, so to speak, and the British Labour movement has a stake in its success. They, the Labourites, would like the Soviet state to be a model in all respects, so that the superiority of the socialist system over the capitalist one might be obvious every step of the way. Meanwhile, the events of the past weeks have caused great damage to the prestige of the Soviet government and to the prestige of the socialist state. Even in the most backward bourgeois states, murderers are tried in public courts, with the observance of every procedural formality. Even in Hitler’s Germany, Dimitrov was tried publicly, which made it possible to save his life. In the USSR, on the contrary, terrorists are tried secretly. The general public knows nothing about the circumstances of the case and the reasons for the verdict. It merely learns from the newspapers that so-and-so and so-and-so have been shot, accused of planning terrorist acts. These judicial methods make a painful impression in England, and in particular on the English working masses. All are agreed that such methods of administering justice should have no place in a socialist state.

The repercussions of Kirov’s assassination and the introduction of the reign of terror increasingly undermined Maisky’s attempts to bring about genuine rapprochement. Citrine stated matters far more bluntly than Maisky suggests: ‘If Hitler had known as much about the art of repression as Stalin the world might never have heard of Dimitrov. He would have been shot in a cellar.’ This argument was then adopted by Maisky in his communications with the Soviet government when he advocated open trials. Citrine, he argued, had finally accepted the Soviet arguments, but would not abandon his ‘“fetish” of a public trial’. Ironically, Maisky’s campaign might have contributed to the decision to conduct the Moscow mock ‘show trials’. The executions further led to an estrangement with H.G. Wells, after Maisky failed to provide him with a convincing answer to a blunt question: ‘What is going on over there?’ Maisky never openly condemned the purges. In fact, he went so far as to pin the blame for them on the Western intelligentsia and the way it had turned its back on the Soviet Union; W. Citrine, Men and Work: An autobiography (London, 1964), p. 126, and Maisky, B. Shou i drugie, pp. 80–2.

Extraordinary measures were all the less excusable given the strength and might of the Soviet government, which has no reason to fear a serious threat from counter-revolutionaries or terrorists. Guided by such considerations, the National Joint Council had found it expedient to send a special deputation to me in order to convey the feelings aroused in the British Labour movement by the recent executions and to ask me to bring it to the notice of the Soviet government.

Citrine said all this smoothly, ingratiatingly, with unctuous courtesy and a velvety voice, presenting himself as the Soviet Union’s most devoted friend. But throughout the speech, the cordial façade could not conceal a deep-seated hostility to the USSR.

Lansbury took the floor after Citrine. He first pointed out that the recent executions had put the Labour Party in an awkward position in parliament. His party always protested against such acts, wherever they took place: in India, Germany, Spain, the Balkans or South America. Often, the Conservatives would report: ‘Don’t try to pull the wool over our eyes. Things are much worse in your beloved Russia.’ Lansbury and the whole Labour Party had always rejected such accusations indignantly. But now they had been driven into a corner and had to agree. He could no longer see how Labour could protest against cruelty in a capitalist country after the executions in the Soviet Union.

The Labour Party was often asked from many sides to make statements of protest, but now it would have to refrain from doing so. For Lansbury personally, the recent events in the USSR have been a terrible blow. He had sympathized with the Russian liberation movement throughout his life and had actively supported Russian revolutionaries. L. recalled a list of famous individuals from the old revolutionary movement in Russia whom he had known and helped in the past. He’d been in the USSR in 1920. The times were terribly hard and the Russian people suffered enormously. Hunger and terror reigned in the country. It was most unpleasant, but Lansbury did not consider it possible then to condemn the Soviet government. He’d had a firm belief that some new system would gradually emerge from the chaos of 15 years ago, and that a strong government based on the principles of freedom and democracy would be formed. He had nearly lost this hope. The USSR has existed for 17 years, but its dictatorial methods of government, crossing over at times into open terror, have persisted in full force. The Soviet government evinces a cynical disregard for world public opinion. L. was more convinced than ever that a strong system could not be built on the basis of terrorism. Russia can survive by terrorist methods of government no better than Germany. This has to change. He was disheartened to see what was going on in the USSR, because Russia, as Citrine had said, embodies the ideas and ideals to which the British Labour movement aspires. Russia is the star of the future, but today the star has been darkened by the shadow of the bloody executions.

Unlike Citrine, Lansbury spoke with great candour and emotion. He often stumbled as he looked for the right words, he gesticulated, his voice sometimes trembled, and his big grey head shook nervously.

Clynes was the third speaker. He spoke calmly and briefly. Clynes said that if the USSR were to be waging a war against an external enemy, all the Labourites would understand it and would not condemn the Soviet government’s actions. But the USSR was not at war, peace reigned on its borders, and in such a situation Labour could not understand the need for so many executions. Such actions merely strengthened the forces of capitalism in other countries. Besides, executions by shooting were a very dangerous thing.

He recalled the shooting of a dozen Irish revolutionaries by English soldiers during the war in 1916, after the national uprising in Dublin had been suppressed. Those shootings completely spoiled Anglo-Irish relations and resulted in an Irish national front more united than ever before in the history of Ireland. The memory of the bloodshed will long remain an obstacle to the establishing of friendly relations between the Irish and English peoples. He, Clynes, hated to say all this in connection with the recent events in the USSR because he, like the previous speakers, thought that the USSR was the main guardian of the idea of socialism, and that the executions had cast a shadow on the name of this guardian.

Since nobody else wished to speak, it was now my turn to reply. I began by sweeping aside any disputes on abstract issues of principle. The speakers had touched upon such subjects, but I was not going to follow the same path. It had to be realized that we and Labour were embracing different worldviews and different political philosophies. It would be useless to argue about, say, the merits of proletarian dictatorship or bourgeois democracy, since both we and they have definite and entrenched opinions on this topic. We would never be able to convince one another of our arguments. A theoretical discussion of general problems was therefore a waste of time, even though I would have had plenty to say in reply to the previous speakers’ arguments had I so wished. I preferred to limit myself to a discussion of this particular case. First of all, I felt obliged to say that it was most regrettable that the National Joint Council had not had genuine information about what had happened in the USSR when it passed its resolution on 20 December. None of the Council members had bothered to see me in advance to clarify the matter (although many Council members knew me personally). Making its decision, the National Joint Council must have been under the sway of the tendentious reports published by the bourgeois press, with their hostility to the USSR. In other words, they had only listened to one side and had not wished to listen to the other. Did this comply with the English principle of fair play?

Citrine stirred at this point and interceded irritably: ‘We used not only the bourgeois English press, but also the Soviet press. Here are relevant translations from Pravda and Izvestiya.’ Citrine pointed to a thick dossier lying on the table in front of him. It was clear that the Congress secretary had arrived for the meeting fully armed.

I replied that a reference to Pravda and Izvestiya made no odds in this case. We, too, do not publish everything in our newspapers out of various considerations (to do with foreign policy in particular). Members of the Council could have learned much from a private talk with me that they would not have found on the pages of the Soviet press. But it seemed superfluous to insist on this point, so I turned directly to the issue of the executions. As the National Joint Council had passed a quite official resolution on the events in the USSR, I also found it necessary to give a quite official reply.

I then read the following statement (the text is attached).

Not reproduced in this edition.

Having read the statement, I handed out copies that had been made beforehand to the members of the deputation and added: ‘The National Joint Council made its resolution public. I hope my reply will be published too – for the sake of fair play.’

My statement made a very powerful impression. All members of the deputation hastened to reread my text, their faces showing considerable agitation. Then I read translated excerpts from the White Guard newspaper Za Rossiyu, which had called openly last November for the murder of Soviet leaders, Comrade Kirov in particular. The citations produced a devastating effect. ‘But we didn’t know that!’ Hicks cried out. I replied: ‘Precisely. That is why I regret that the Council members did not talk to me before passing the resolution.’ Citrine was also flustered and began to put down the paper’s name, issue number, place of publication, etc. Then he said: ‘The statement we have just heard does not answer many of the questions we posed. It’s not the kind of answer we expected. Besides, we must protest strongly against the accusation that the British Labour movement encourages terrorists or sympathizes with them in one way or another. The injustice of this accusation is shown by the very first part of the resolution passed on 20 December, where the National Joint Council expresses deep indignation at the assassination of Kirov and great sympathy [with the Soviet Union] for its great loss.’

I replied that I simply couldn’t agree with Citrine’s arguments. My statement was precisely a reply to the main thrust of the Labour démarche. As regards Labour’s cordial response to the events in the USSR, I had doubts there too. When was Kirov assassinated? On 1 December. When did the Labourites deem it appropriate to express their sympathy? On 20 December. Why didn’t they show any signs of life for three weeks after the assassination? How to explain that even in the resolution of 20 December they, having expressed their sympathy in the first paragraph, actually annul the purport of this gesture in the second paragraph by expressing indignation at the executions?

‘There is a simple and exhaustive answer to this,’ Citrine put in. ‘The British Labour movement is built on the principles of democracy. The National Joint Council alone had the right to extend sympathy to the Soviet government on behalf of the Labour movement. The first session of the Council after Kirov’s assassination was held on 20 December.’

I replied that Citrine’s answer did not satisfy me. First, I doubted that the secretaries of the Trades Union Congress and the Labour Party could not, at their own discretion, send a message of sympathy themselves on such an exceptional occasion. Second, let us assume that, according to the constitution, they could not present official condolences on behalf of the British Labour movement before 20 December. But, being friends of the USSR, could they not do so personally? For instance, could not Citrine, who has been on friendly terms with us for over ten years, call me by telephone or write a message of condolence immediately after the assassination of Kirov? Could not other leaders of the Labour movement, who had been saying that they were friends of the USSR all those years, do the same?

Silence fell. The members of the deputation exchanged glances and didn’t know what to say. Lansbury, with his usual candour, finally exclaimed in desperation: ‘It simply didn’t occur to me! I didn’t even know who Kirov was. I hadn’t imagined that he occupied a top post in the USSR… I’m very sorry that I didn’t think of sending condolences to you. But you shouldn’t question our friendly sentiments towards the USSR because of that. We sympathize with the USSR very much, we wish you every happiness in building socialism. We have always defended you against the attacks of the capitalist world and will continue to do so. We hate terrorists and abhor the assassination of Kirov – and you accuse us of sympathizing with terrorists. It’s impossible.’

Lansbury’s utterance prompted the members of the deputation to speak again. Citrine, Hicks, Lathan, Middleton and others vied with one another in expressing their displeasure at the final phrase of my statement. Citrine produced, among other things, a translation of the decree of 1 December concerning the expedition of court proceedings for terrorist cases and, citing it, began to claim that the decree essentially abolished justice in the USSR.

Comrade Kagan intervened and explained to Citrine calmly but effectively that the decree was issued as a normal edict by normal legislative organs of the USSR, that it was a ‘lawful law’, like any other decision of the Central Executive Committee, that the expedition of court proceedings for terrorist cases derived from the urgent need to protect the USSR, and that if Citrine had deemed it necessary to see the Soviet ambassador before passing the resolution of 20 December he would have heard a lot of things which might have convinced him of the necessity of the severe measures taken by the Soviet government.

Citrine retorted in an offended tone that the executive bodies of the British Labour movement often have to take a stand regarding the actions of foreign governments. If the National Joint Council sent its secretaries to foreign embassies for explanations on every occasion, it would never adopt a single resolution. It would always be waiting for replies.

Comrade Kagan objected that, considering the particular friendly relations that existed and continue to exist between the British Labour movement and the USSR, about which members of the deputation had just spoken with such fervour, we had the right to expect that the National Joint Council would not lump the Soviet embassy in London in one category with the embassies of capitalist countries. Are Citrine’s personal and political relations with the German or Polish ambassador really as amicable as those with the Soviet ambassador? Wouldn’t it have been natural, then, for the National Joint Council to consult the Soviet ambassador to find out what was actually happening in the USSR before discussing the resolution?

I sided with Comrade Kagan and added that the Council’s conduct had been an unpleasant surprise in several respects. First, Citrine stressed in his speech that Labour understands and appreciates the difficult situation facing the Soviet government. Until recently, I had also assumed this to be so. But the resolution of 20 December convinced me that I was mistaken. Most likely, Labour does not quite understand our difficulties. The measures the Soviet government had to take after the assassination of Comrade Kirov were the measures necessary for the USSR to protect itself against the intrigues of international counter-revolution. True, those were rigorous measures, but as Mirabeau said, revolution cannot be made with lavender oil. If Labour really appreciated our difficulties, it would not protest against the shooting of terrorists. Second, I was struck in a most disagreeable way not just by the fact of the resolution being adopted, but also by the manner in which this was done. The session of the National Joint Council on 20 December raised the question of the events in the USSR. Not one member of the Council made an attempt to see me earlier in order to learn from a primary source what was really happening in my country. The Council derived all its information from the bourgeois press and obviously deemed this sufficient. Then the resolution was adopted, where the wicked words of the second part obliterated the good words of the first. The resolution was delivered to me late in the evening of the 20th, and the next morning I read it in the papers. After the resolution was published, I was asked to receive a deputation – what for? To express official protest? If you now claim so ardently to be friends of the USSR, why didn’t you act in a friendly manner a fortnight ago? I believe that, given the circumstances, your first duty was to find out the facts of the matter. All the more so as the matter in hand concerned a country for which you express such friendly feelings. Citrine or somebody else could have come to me and asked: Tell me, what does it mean? I would have given him exhaustive information. He might have disagreed with me – that would be up to him – but at least his behaviour would have been correct and cordial. What actually happened represents the complete negation of amicable relations.

Silence fell again. The members of the deputation were obviously embarrassed. Once again Lansbury was the first to speak: ‘Let’s assume we made a mistake by not talking to you first. But does this give sufficient grounds to accuse us of the absence of friendly feelings? Does it give you the right to suspect us of sympathy with the terrorists?’

Other members of the deputation also became excited and began to justify their conduct. Hicks, sitting closer to me, muttered under his breath: ‘It’s true. We acted stupidly.’ Middleton tried to justify the Council’s behaviour by remarking that at least ten hours passed from the time I received the resolution to the time of its publication (from the evening of the 20th to the morning of the 21st). I objected: ‘The letter attached to the resolution did not mention that you were going to publish it. I had no idea you were going to do so. What is the significance of the fact that the resolution was formally delivered to me several hours before it appeared in the papers? Besides, what could be done at 11 p.m.?’

Once the members of the deputation had finished pouring out their feelings, insisting all over again that they sympathized with the USSR and hated terrorists deeply, the fount of their eloquence ran dry. We (i.e. myself, Kagan and Astakhov) did not speak either.

Complete silence reigned in the room for a few moments.

The Labourites seemed not to know what to do. At last Middleton said hesitantly: ‘So, you are going to leave your statement as it is?’

I confirmed I was. Then Lansbury suddenly got to his feet and, jabbing his finger at the final phrase, cried out indignantly: ‘No, if this is published, it will spell the end! It will mean a split between the British Labour movement and the Soviet government. We shall not be able to work together afterwards. If the statement is published, I doubt I will even be able to maintain personal relations with you, however well I think of you.’

Other members of the deputation sided with Lansbury. I replied: ‘I fail to see the grounds for such a conclusion. We’ve disagreed on this particular matter, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t and shouldn’t work together on other issues.’

But Lansbury would not calm down. He objected in a trembling voice: ‘No, things are much more serious. We haven’t just disagreed on this particular matter – that’s only half the problem. But you tell us in your statement: you are babblers and hypocrites. If you hold such a view of us, what kind of collaboration can there be? What kind of relations, even personal relations, can there be between us?’

The other members of the deputation nodded their heads approvingly.

Desiring to allay the conflict somewhat, I objected that we should not view our disagreement on this matter in such tragic terms and, what is more important, we should not generalize. I certainly did not wish to suggest with my statement that all Labourites were hypocrites and windbags. I could well understand that, in adopting the resolution, they were guided subjectively by the best intentions, sympathy with the USSR and hatred for terrorists. But the objective significance of their behaviour – even if this occurred against their will and conscious intentions – was undoubtedly harmful. And that is what the final phrase of my statement was driving at.

Lansbury would not give in. He waved his hands indignantly and exclaimed: ‘No, you think of us as hypocrites and babblers.’

Again I emphasized that although we disagree on the matter of executing the terrorists, we should not forget that we can and must have a common line. In particular, we have a great common goal – the preservation of peace. Hence, disagreement on this particular matter should not preclude our further cooperation. On the contrary, we must cooperate in all matters relating to the preservation of peace and the improvement of Anglo-Soviet relations.

Lansbury muttered something in reply that could be understood roughly as follows: ‘I still doubt that further cooperation is possible.’ Everyone felt that the conversation had come to an end. The Labourites rose, but hesitated to leave. Lansbury suggested that we should at least avoid arguments in the press. The deputation would publish a communiqué about their visit. He would like the text to be agreed between us. I answered that I could not take responsibility for a communiqué issued by the National Joint Council. The only thing I could do was to look it through and say whether I would have to issue a reply in the press. In addition, I insisted that the full text of my statement should be published together with the communiqué. Lansbury did not object. We agreed that Citrine and Middleton would write the communiqué and show it to me.

As we parted, Lansbury said bitterly: ‘I deeply regret what has happened. I never thought I would live through such a moment in the 76th year of my life.’

Citrine and Middleton wanted to come and show me their communiqué the next morning, 1 January. However, I had to wait for a reply from Moscow, so I dodged the meeting under the pretext of the New Year and asked them to come on the 2nd. By then I had received the necessary instructions from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

On the morning of the 2nd, I received Citrine, Middleton and Bolton (head of the international department of the General Council of the Trades Union Congress). At first, their mood was sour and confused. To judge by the information at my disposal, the deputation had returned home in a very distressed state of mind after talking to me. The rebuff with which they had been met had affected them greatly. Disagreements had begun among the members of the deputation. Middleton, who had disapproved of the move initiated by Citrine from the very beginning, now said openly that the National Joint Council had acted foolishly, that its behaviour towards me had been tactless, that condolences should have been sent right after Kirov’s death, and that they should have talked to me in private before undertaking any steps. Some other members of the deputation, Hicks and Lansbury in particular, were of the same opinion. Generally, the Labourites felt they had fallen into a swamp and needed to find a way out of the situation.

Citrine and Middleton showed me the draft communiqué. It contained my statement, but was otherwise highly unpleasant in tone and content. I said that this communiqué might force me to resort to a public dispute with Labour. Comrade Kagan, who was present at our meeting, drew the attention of Citrine and Middleton to some especially odious passages in the communiqué. The two secretaries then opened a heated and lengthy debate with us. It was clear that the communiqué was merely a pretext and that in fact they wished to discuss with me again the issues they had raised and to find out whether a compromise could be achieved in order to avoid open conflict between the USSR and the Labour movement. Our discussion, which was of a confidential nature and embraced the whole range of questions relating to the assassination of Kirov, lasted nearly two hours.

In the course of the discussion, I explained to Citrine and Middleton the inner and outer workings of the assassination of Kirov and the reasons why the Soviet government had acted the way it had. My words made a great impression on them. Even Citrine finally recognized that it was hard to argue with the actions of the Soviet government; yet still he would not abandon his ‘fetish’ of a public trial. Middleton was considerably more obliging on this point, as on all others. To make a concession to the Labourites, and wishing to keep good relations with the Trades Union Congress and Labour, I agreed to remove the last phrase from my statement, which accused them of sympathizing with the actions of the terrorists. Citrine and Middleton sighed with obvious relief and quickly agreed to an amicable arrangement. They compiled a new text of the communiqué right away, which was published in the press on 3 January. The new text was much better than the first. At any rate, there was no need for me to make any polemical replies in the press. (Naturally, as had been agreed with Lansbury, the Labourites alone were responsible for the communiqué.)

Citrine and Middleton assured me that as soon as the communiqué appeared in the press the next morning, the National Joint Council would consider the incident closed and would not return to it again.