A horse slipped off the precipice and tumbled down the side of the mountain towards the abyss. She neighed desperately, turned over several times and managed to stop on a small ledge. Scratched all over, with large bruises and bleeding wounds on her sides, but still in one piece, she was clinging on to the ledge and thrashing her legs about in a feverish attempt to find support. For several minutes she made immense efforts to stand up and remain on the ledge, and there were moments when it seemed that she would succeed. But the ledge was small and uneven, and the horse was huge and ungainly. She was unable to keep her balance, slipped once again and rolled further down the mountain-side. There was another shelf some 100 metres below. Turning somersaults, the horse reached it and came to a stop once again. This second stone shelf was wider than the first, and had the horse been still in one piece, as only a few minutes earlier, she might well have escaped death. But now she had a broken leg and a thick stream of blood gushing from her croup. Yet her survival instinct was still functioning. She was madly scraping her three unhurt legs against the rock face, neighing and swishing her tail. But she lacked the strength to save herself. A few moments later she fell once again and rolled further down, fast and unstoppably. But she was still alive. All beaten up, her legs broken, drenched in blood, the horse fell another 100 metres onto a third small ledge which jutted out whimsically from the cliff face, and made a few weak movements with her head and body to hold on once more. But it was too late. She had no strength left. She slipped off again and careered down the rocky slope into the abyss.

This scene often comes to mind when I think about Anglo-Soviet relations over the last three months.

The curve of our relations has been dropping sharply since the beginning of the Finnish war. It is not a sheer drop, but broken up into stages. The first jump into the precipice was made in Geneva, when the League of Nations, led by the British and the French with the covert assistance of the United States, expelled the USSR for ‘aggression’. There were rumours then that England and France would immediately sever diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union. But this didn’t happen. On the contrary, Butler declared in the League’s lobby that Geneva was one thing and London another. In Geneva, the British were devotees of ‘principles’ and had to anathematize the USSR ‘on grounds of principle’. In London, the British were engaged in business and would maintain diplomatic relations with the Soviet ‘devil’ ‘on grounds of expedience’. There followed a relatively calm two-week period in Soviet–British relations.

The next leap down the cliff face happened at the turn of the year: the preparation of the ‘Blue Book’, the departure of Seeds ‘on leave’, Doshchenko’s arrest, the British embassy in Moscow packing up for evacuation, the rumours spread about my departure from London, and, most importantly, weapons and planes began to be delivered to Finland. This period of agitation lasted until mid-January, when another temporary lull set in. Its outward manifestation was the indefinite deferral of the publication of the Blue Book, which had been scheduled for 15 January.

Two weeks later, and there was a further plunge. Churchill’s speech of 20 January, Chamberlain’s reply to Knox’s query about the severance of Anglo-Soviet relations on 24 January, the British government’s decision to provide the Finns not only with weapons but also with ‘volunteers’, and intense pressure on Sweden and Norway, urging them to support Mannerheim by way of direct armed intervention. This fevered state of affairs lasted until mid-February. The Swedish prime minister, Hansson,

Per Albin Hansson, leader of the Swedish Social Democrat Party from 1925; prime minister of Sweden, 1932–46.

put an end to it, declaring on 16 February that Sweden would maintain neutrality in the Finnish war (that same ‘neutrality’ it had been practising until then). A new temporary lull set in, which continues to this day. It is still unclear how it will be affected by my démarche of 22 February.

Step by step, from one ledge to another. After each fall, Anglo-Soviet relations get back on their feet for an instant and stabilize themselves, but on a lower level every time. The further they fall, the more unstoppable the slide. Will they indeed fall into the abyss of rupture and war? Or will they succeed in getting a firm hold on one of the ledges? Or even, having found it, start climbing back up? Should the Finnish campaign end quickly, Anglo-Soviet relations would correct themselves. If it drags on – who knows? The contest today is between the tempo of the termination of the Finnish war and the tempo of the transformation of the Finnish war into a general capitalist attack on the Soviet Union. Which will win?…