Comrades Turned Traitors
The enmity between the Communist International—Comintern, that is—and the Socialist International ran deep, its roots stretching all the way back to the Second International, founded in 1889, forty-one years earlier.
Socialism is internationalist by nature, emphasizing the liberation of the entire working class without discrimination. From the nineteenth century, when Marx left his mark, there had been repeated attempts to build socialist international organizations. The Second International was the most successful of them all.
At first the two currents got along well enough. Reformists argued that since capitalism had been transformed by the birth of socialism, socialism itself must adapt to those changes. Revolutionaries countered that reform was only a temporary patch; true victory required advancing to the dictatorship of the proletariat to end the eternal class struggle between bourgeoisie and workers. Then came July 1914 and the Great War.
At the time Germany was the undisputed hegemon of Central Europe, hungry for overseas colonies, concessions, and expanded influence in the Balkans. When a young Serbian, entangled in ethnic and territorial disputes over Bosnia, assassinated the heir to the German imperial throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the powder keg exploded. Germany declared war on Serbia. Russia, which had guaranteed Serbian independence, declared war on Germany. France, fearing threats along its borders, joined the fray. The needless violation of neutral Belgium dragged in Britain, Italy, and the Ottoman Empire, turning a regional conflict into a world war.
The problem was that socialists themselves were split on how to respond. The revolutionaries thundered, “The only ones dying in this war between imperialists are proletarians! We must oppose it by any means necessary!” The reformists replied, “A war has begun, and that’s that. For now, the right course is to cooperate with the state to protect the nation and the working class.”
When Jean Jaurès, the French social democrat who had tried to mediate between the factions, was assassinated, and when Vladimir Lenin—the leading voice of the anti-war revolutionaries—walked out of the Second International with his supporters, the organization collapsed. Lenin went on to organize the second Russian revolution in November 1917, giving birth to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. From the revolutionaries’ perspective—the perspective of the Third International, the Comintern—the reformists who had supported the war were traitors who had “sacrificed proletarian lives for an imperialist conflict.”
Conversely, after Germany’s defeat in 1919 ended the war, the reformists who championed parliamentary democracy and improved labor rights regrouped in London in 1923. They rejected the revolutionaries outright and founded a new body: the Labour and Socialist International, or LSI. From their viewpoint, the Comintern, which had split off in opposition to the war, was the real traitor—“the splitter.”
Two organizations born from the same cradle, each branding the other as betrayers. In short, they were siblings who had become bitter enemies.
“But is it even possible to reconcile them?”
Anna, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, asked the question the moment we met.
“Of course it’s possible.”
“Really? You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
“Absolutely!”
I lifted my chin with theatrical confidence, but to be honest, I wasn’t that certain yet. How it would be done remained to be seen.
“The plan for now is that the Comintern World Congress is happening in June. I’ll go to Moscow, get a firm commitment on negotiations with the social democrats, and then attend the Socialist International meeting scheduled for July.”
“Will the Socialist International even let you in?”
“Right now I’m a member of the Labor Party—APD—not the Communist Party, KPD. Remember?”
When I’d left the party around this time last year, I hadn’t foreseen how useful the APD label would prove. The most important advantage was that, even though the party had sprung from the Communists and still upheld communist principles, it was surprisingly able to reach into the SPD and the broader international social-democratic movement.
“So the first step is to talk with the Comintern. Of course, we’ll have to consolidate the People’s Front before that.”
“Personally, I don’t believe the Social Democrats will ever accept a revolutionary line,” Anna said flatly.
“Why not?”
“No matter what they call it—People’s Front or anything else—the SPD is still the SPD. They led Germany’s democratization through reform, and they’re enormously proud of it. That was only eleven years ago. Do you really think they’d willingly smash the parliament they built with their own hands? I don’t.”
“Hmm…”
She had a point. I couldn’t deny it.
“I’ve thought about that too. But you know how far Brüning is going. The conservatives and the National Socialists are using the chaos to build their strength. The KPD alone can’t stop them. Only by uniting with the Social Democrats can we create the kind of nationwide awakening that will shake all of Germany.”
“So it’s not a choice—it’s a necessity?”
“Pretty much. We’re simply adjusting to what has to be done. Still, it’s a stroke of luck that both parties are friendly toward me.”
It was a blessing that neither the Communists nor the Social Democrats thought badly of me. Without a bridge between them, they would have torn each other apart.
“Anyway…”
I folded the sheet on which I’d been sketching out the timetable, slipped it into a drawer, and stood up.
“Time to get to work. Want to come?”
“What are you doing?”
“Just talking to people on the street.”
“Really? Then I’m in!”
So Anna and I headed out into the streets again.
“…Which means the government’s so-called ‘shared sacrifice’ is really just another way of slicing the bread of those who have nothing even thinner.”
“But peace is important, isn’t it? I thought we were supposed to honor the Versailles Treaty.”
“Peace is absolutely important. But the way to preserve it isn’t by paying reparations on time. It’s by not starting wars in the first place. Reparations are secondary. The only real answer is to prevent war from breaking out at all.”
Today the conversation had turned to war and peace.
“After the revolution, the well-fed won’t be able to drag the hungry into slaughter. Once revolution spreads across the world and the proletariat stands above the bourgeoisie, conflicts will no longer escalate into war.”
“That makes sense, I suppose.”
“Squeezing the German people dry to pay reparations doesn’t bring peace. It only plants the seeds of new conflicts. The conservatives are already sharpening their knives for revenge against the West.”
“Then the leaders of other countries won’t want revolution at all, will they? What if they intervene wherever it breaks out?”
“That’s exactly why world revolution matters. Revolution cannot succeed in one country alone. Russia has achieved unprecedented peace and prosperity amid the Great War and the Great Depression, but Germany—far more central to the international stage—faces a different reality. That’s why the propertyless classes of every nation must rise up and throw off the yoke of capitalism that binds them.”
“So that’s why you call for the workers of the world to unite?”
“Exactly! That’s right!”
The unemployed and workers already driven onto the streets preferred sitting down to talk with me over standing in line at government bread lines. This was the only place, the only moment, where they could freely dream of overthrowing an oppressive state and building a nation for workers and the dispossessed.
“Revolution is not violence—it is peace. Rather than being dragged into the fights of the powerful, it is better to end all future struggles with a single decisive battle.”
“So the reparations are just a blindfold, a distraction.”
“Exactly. Trying to prevent war without removing its causes is pointless.”
“But our stomachs are still empty.”
“The Chancellor must resign!”
The citizens gathered around us cheered. The cheers themselves changed nothing for the moment, but…
“Um, Deputy?”
A man sitting nearby tapped my shoulder. His finger pointed toward three men in black uniforms walking straight toward us.
Another fine? Didn’t they ever get tired of it?
“What is it this time?”
The policemen were already tapping their batons against their palms, as if the conversation had gone on long enough. It was irritating. The Red Revolutionary Front was on standby nearby in case of trouble, but I had no desire to create an incident with the police over something like this.
“All right, I understand. We’ll leave.”
In the end I had to move the meeting to a narrow alley off the square.
“They’re the government’s dogs. Ignore them, Deputy Heinz.”
“I know. I know, but…”
The way they swaggered made my blood boil. What kind of education had they received? Fortunately, most of the citizens who had been talking with me followed us.
“Well, let’s continue. Any other questions?”
“In socialism, is there no market?”
“Not in the sense we usually mean. All necessities are distributed by the state so that no one lacks anything.”
“Then… wouldn’t society become terribly uniform? If everyone lives exactly the same way…”
“It doesn’t work like that. The state distributes daily necessities—foodstuffs, clothing, furniture, hygiene products, that sort of thing. It isn’t the government ordering you what to use. It’s you ordering the government what you need. You can enjoy anything you want.”
“If I ask for a specific design of clothing, do they just make it?”
“Yes. The state then instructs the factories to produce what you requested. There’s no law saying factories can only make predetermined items, is there?”
After all, socialism respects diversity.
“Right now, once a particular style becomes fashionable, they keep churning it out endlessly until the trend dies and no one wants it anymore. That’s an enormous waste of resources. Production driven by profit rather than need creates massive waste.”
“That’s true. When the upper class chased trends, we were the ones stuck making those trendy goods.”
“And those bastards were busy exploiting our labor the whole time!”
As the conversation continued, I noticed policemen approaching again from a distance.
“…Shall we stop here for today?”
I watched the citizens begin to disperse one by one and turned to face the police.
“What law have I violated this time—”
…Something was wrong.
A primal warning flashed through my mind. These men were different. Their eyes held not the usual bored irritation but a strange zeal. Their uniforms looked oddly loose. There were no government insignia. And most telling of all, the flaps on the holsters at their waists were open.
Click—
“…!”