Rise and Fall of a Military Leader

The story of commander Mikhail Nikolaevich Tukhachevsky has all the makings of a Shakespearean tragedy — heroism, fatal trust, and treachery. Like the other prominent Soviet military commanders of his time, Yakir, Blukher, and Uborevich, he was a child of the October Revolution. It raised him to the heights of glory... and in the end it caused his downfall. Tukhachevsky lived for only 44 years. But those years were crammed full of enough glory, turmoil, victories, and defeats for several lifetimes.

Tukhachevsky was born in 1893 into a noble family. He graduated from the Alexandrovsky Military-Training College in 1914, when the world was already in the clutches of war. In 1915, having fought for less than a year, he was taken prisoner. He tried to escape five times and, in the fall of 1917, finally succeeded. By this time, however, Russia had already disintegrated into Whites and Reds, in preparation for the October Revolution and the Russian Civil War.

Like much of the Russian intelligentsia, Tukhachevsky welcomed the Revolution as deliverance from a decadent autocracy and a social, political, and moral crisis. But unlike many of his contemporaries, he remained faithful to the ideals of the Revolution to the end.

And the Revolution rewarded his devotion. He moved up through the military ranks with lightening speed. In less than two years, he advanced from company commander to leader of the 1st, and then the 5th, Armies. By the beginning of 1920, he was already commanding the Southeast front. It was his army that carried the day over General Denikin of the White Army, winning an important victory in the Civil War.

Then things started to go wrong. The 27-year-old Tukhachevsky led a disastrous campaign against Poland in the spring and summer of 1920. Then, in February to March, 1921, sailors at the naval base of Kronstadt revolted, demanding more freedoms for workers and legalization of the socialist party. Panicking, the government called in the armed forces. It was Tukhachevsky in command of the 7th Army who crushed the Kronstadt Mutiny on March 17, 1921, killing many of the demonstrators in the process.

For a while, these events appeared to be just a bump in the road of Tukhachevsky’s career. In the following years, Tukhachevsky continued his rapid ascent of the political and military ladders. In 1922, he became head of the Military Academy of the Red Army. In 1924, Deputy Chief of Staff of the Red Army. In 1925, Troop Commander of the Western Military District and Chief of Staff of the Red Army. In 1928, Commander of the Leningrad Military District. Beginning in 1931, he was a Deputy People’s Commissar for Naval Power, then, First Deputy Commissar for the Defense of the USSR. In May 1937, fifteen days before his arrest, he was named Troop Commander of the Volga Military District. He was decorated with the highest orders of that time — the Orders of Lenin and the Red Banner of Labor.

But Tukhachevsky’s luck was about to run out. On May 26, 1937, the legendary marshal was arrested and charged with leading a “conspiracy” in the Red Army against his own people. Needless to say, the evidence was falsified from beginning to end, with the eager help of German intelligence, which sought to destroy the most prominent and talented Russian commanders before Germany’s attack on the USSR.

Unfortunately for Tukhachevsky and his colleagues, this goal happened to coincide with the schemes of mediocre and ambitious officers like Budyonny and Voroshilov, as well as with Stalin’s unpredictable whims. Along with Tukhachevsky, many other promising military leaders were arrested, among them the commanders of the Belarussian and Kiev military districts, Ieronim Uborevich and Ion Yakir, the head of the Frunze Military Academy, Avgust Korok, and Corps Commander Robert Eideman. Even earlier, the military attach≈e in Great Britain, Vivovt Putna and Corps Commander Boris Feldman had been arrested for participating in the same alleged conspiracy.

The appearance of a trial lasted less than two weeks. The list of those present in the courtroom reads like a history of the Russian Civil War. Both the “judges” (Marshals Budyonny and Blukher, Commanders Shaposhnikov, Belov, Alksnis, Dybenko and Kashirin, and Divisional Commander Goryachev) and the accused were absolutely committed to the ideals of Communism. Which is why most of the “judges” were stunned but did not question the guilt of those who had so recently been their comrades in arms.

They were soon to be enlightened. In less than a year, the spy mania that gripped the country caught up with them as well. With the exception of Budyonny and Shaposhnikov, all the former judges were accused and convicted just as summarily as Tukhachevsky and his “co-conspirators” had been.

The fall of these idols, who had been role models for the entire first postrevolutionary generation, had to somehow be explained to the Soviet people. And so Voroshilov, the People’s Commissar for Defense, issued an order condemning the conspiracy as “a treacherous counter-revolutionary military Fascist organization, which, being kept strictly secret, existed for a long time and carried out base, subversive, and harmful espionage work within the Red Army.”

Marshal Mikhail Tukhachevsky and “his group” were shot on June 11, 1937. Sixty years have passed since then, but, as in all good stories, his glory and tragedy still resonate. No amount of reinterpretation of the Revolution and its consequences can camouflage the simple facts: there was in Russian history a greatly talented commander, perhaps even a genius of military tactics and strategy. Through no fault of his own, he was born at a critical, but cruel, time in history. The Revolution, which nurtured and then betrayed him, made of people either monsters or heroes. In the end, though, it also made Tukhachevsky’s name immortal.    

Brief Items

The month of June begins in Russia with the celebration of Children’s Protection Day (International Children’s Day). We decided to mark this event by devoting most of this issue of Russian Life to children, to the problems they face and the opportunities that stand before them. As banal as it may sound in these cynical times, the future of any country lies with its children.

Our second highlight of the month (June 9) is not quite so new. The 325th anniversary of Peter the Great has been anticipated by our articles about the Russian fleet (October 1996) and Peter the Great’s mission to Europe (March 1997). His virtues and achievements are well-known and need no introduction.  It may be less well-known that a new monument honoring Peter, and located on Moscow’s embankment, has raised rowdy debates. A group of Moscow city residents, including a number of eminent artists, have protested  the colossal, 184-foot-high statue executed by internationally-renowned sculptor Zurab Tsereteli. They have said that the monument is alien to Moscow (a city, ironically, which Peter despised) and a hiccup of Soviet gigantomania.

The conflict reached new heights recently, when President Boris Yeltsin indirectly pointed a finger at his political ally and Tsereteli’s patron, Moscow Mayor Yuri Luzhkov, by saying that “Moscow’s backing of Tsereteli is a vain thing.” It remains to be seen whether the statue will be removed. In any event, Russia’s cash-strapped economy  can  afford neither a costly statue removal nor another costly referendum, as advocated by Tsereteli’s opponents.

Russia’s popular literary hero, Ostap Bender, once said, “they will help us abroad.” And so they might. Luzhkov has apparently received offers of ‘asylum’ for the statue from a number of European cities that Peter once visited. Some have even offered to buy it. At press time, Luzhkov seemed resolute on keeping the statue, perhaps being heartened by the example of the Eiffel Tower. After all, prominent French artists and writers, headed by none other than Emil Zola, protested harshly against the “monstrous” Eiffel Tower when it was built. And yet it is now the universal icon of Paris. Perhaps the same fate awaits Tsereteli’s statue...

Konstantin Pobedonostsev was in many ways the antithesis of Peter the Great. Indeed, history has labeled him the “inspiration of extreme reaction.” Pobedonostsev enjoyed unlimited influence over emperor Alexander III (having been his tutor as a child). Of perhaps most significance is his authorship of the manifesto of April 29, 1881 aimed at strengthening autocracy. He passionately hated the industrial revolution and wanted a strong, Orthodox state that, among other things, would “keep people from inventing things.”

This month is also rich in artistic anniversaries. On June 7, Russian singers will pay tribute to the famous tenor, Leonid Sobinov (1872-1934), who made his debut on the stage of the Bolshoy 100 years ago, performing in the mesmerizing opera Demon, by Rubinstein. June 17 will mark the 115th anniversary of composer and conductor Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) who emigrated from Russia in 1910 and, from 1939, lived in the US. He is known worldwide for his ballets Petrushka, Saint Spring, Orpheus and Agon, and for his opera, Nightingale. Even though he spent most of his life abroad, Stravinsky was deeply tied to Russia. “All my life I speak Russian, I think Russian, I have a Russian style. Maybe one can’t grasp it at once in my music, but it is there, in its hidden nature,” the composer said in 1962.

The 160th anniversary of the birth of the talented Russian artist Ivan Kramskoy (1837-1887) will be marked on June 8.  Kramskoy is one of the founders of a movement uniting the best Russian artists of the 19th century.  The movement challenged the existing canons and dogmas which said art should be based solely on mythological or biblical themes. Instead, Kramskoy encouraged artists to paint popular and folk characters and sing in praise of the beauty of the Russian landscape. Kramskoy’s brush brought forth many famous paintings, including portraits of the writer Lev Tolstoy and the poet Nikolai Nekrasov. His painting, Stranger, was featured in the March 1996 issue of Russian Life.

On June 16, poetry lovers will recall the filigree verses of poet-symbolist  Konstantin Balmont, who left Russia in 1920. Considered a ‘decadent’ poet whose work was alien to the optimistic spirit of the art of socialist realism, Balmont was doomed to official oblivion for over 70 years. Only now can his admirers savor the flow of his sophisticated  verses, which are as exquisite and fine as his physical traits.

Another prominent Russian literary figure worth mentioning on this page is the writer Ivan Goncharov (1812-1891), author  of the famous novels Oblomov, The Precipice and The Same Old Story. All became classic works of Russian literature. To celebrate Goncharov’s 185th birthday on June 18, you could reread these classics or seek out two brilliant movies by the famous modern Russian director,  Nikita Mikhalkov (director of Burnt by the Sun). His Oblomov and The Same Old Story both enjoyed critical acclaim when they were released in Russia.