II
“Shall we put it to a vote?” There was a loud murmur of consent from the
left side of the room. The smaller right
side was silent.
“All in favor of our new resolution on the
distribution of land?” The left side
raised their hands. “Any opposed?” The men on the right side sat motionlessly
staring at their counterparts. The
secretary raised his voice again.
“Very well, the motion passes 302 votes to
none. And the chair recognizes Mr.
Lenin.” Lenin had stood up from his
place on the right side.
“Comrade Chernov, We ask again that the
Constituent assembly recognize the Council of People’s Commissars or Sovnarkom
as the leading government body. We ask
again that we put the Soviet government to a vote.” The room was still, but for the few copyists’
quills scratching in the room. Again the
chairman spoke, but this time he sounded frightened.
“Very well, all in favor of voting on the
Sovnarkom?” The small side on the right
raised their hands. “All opposed?” In unison, the entire left side raised their
hands. “The resolution fails to pass in
a vote again.” A tall man on the left
side rose to his feet.
“Now that we’ve approved the distribution
of land, let us continue with our alliances.”
His voice droned on, but Lenin remained standing, staring at his
enemy. He stood for what seemed like
hours as the Constituent Assembly passed another law without even considering
the Bolsheviks on the far side of the hall.
Finally Lenin beckoned to the others and without a word they filed out
of the hall onto the dark wintery streets outside.
Chernov and the rest continued without
stop, passing resolution after resolution.
Finally, at around 4:30 in the morning a sailor entered and whispered to
Chernov that the guards were tired. It
was time to end for the day. Chernov
stood up and a grave silence fell on the assembly. “We must end for the night, but the people
are with us! Remember that my
friends. We will meet again in the
morning.” Chairs scraped as men rose,
congratulating each other on the amount they had accomplished, but there were a
sober few, who got up and left without a word.
They were those who had come late and had seen the Latvian regiment
violently disperse the crowd. Yes, the
people were with them, but the army was with the Bolsheviks, and they were
unsurprised when they arrived the next morning to find the doors to the Tauride
Palace bolted shut.
“So much for democracy.” One delegate said
in disgust. No one knew just how right
he was.
III
Lenin swung around in his chair shunning
the back of his bald head to the dark window behind him. A dimly lit figure, his freshly pressed gray
suit silhouetted by the light outside the room, stepped inside the room and
closed the door.
“Ach, Leva, won’t you come in and sit
down.” Came Lenin’s cordial high-pitched
voice. Trotsky sat down near Lenin
taking off his spectacles and wiping them with his jacket.
“Volodya, it’s starting to get messy out
there.” Lenin turned back to look outside
his dark window.
“You know…it’s dirty in here too.” Trotsky nodded.
“And what…are we planning to do about
it?” Lenin turned back and gazed
apprehensively at his friend. He stood
up, pulling a large sheet of paper out of his cabinet, and beckoning Trotsky to
him.
“Do you know what this is, Leva?” Trotsky looked down at the paper taking in
every detail.
“Is that Dzerzhinski’s signature?”
“Yes.
I had the Cheka (Extraordinary Commission to Combat Counterrevolution
and Sabotage) sign off on it. It’s a
report of all anarchist groups and any counter-revolutionary groups.” He gave Trotsky a sinister smile. “Just to be safe.” Trotsky laughed sarcastically.
“Do you intend to raid them? Attack them?
Just keep tabs on them? I mean
the pacifists just managed to outlaw the death penalty. That’s a mighty big list, and we have no
means of controlling them.” Lenin looked
back outside his window.
“You and I both know that in order for the
revolution to survive, the people have to be coerced. The list is long because we are notoriously
without any means to suppress them. We are
in power because the workers in cities like us, but if we are to remain in
power, we must either form coalitions with those the peasants like, or the
peasants must come to fear our power.
But we must wait for our opportunity.
You and I are militant warlords, something the other parties lack. The more we fail to reach consensus with them
the angrier they will become, until they walk out, and it will be then that we
must establish total control. Can I
count on you comrade?” Trotsky’s chin
quivered with excitement.
“I’ve always said, we wouldn’t enter into
the kingdom of socialism in white gloves on a polished floor.”
IV
“Read the decree boy!” A young man in his tattered brown clothes
stood in front of the large house on the outskirts of Moscow. His hysterical breathing was nothing compared
to the terror on his face. “I said
read!” The man gulped looking around at
the men in their brown uniforms machine guns and artillery pointed at the
house. He began with a squeak.
“I-it is the mandate of the Council of
People’s Commissars that all anarchist organizations cease their current
activities of counter-revolution and are h-hereby disbanded. Any continued meeting of such organizations
or rhetoric in the streets is hereby prohibited by force of law. The anarchist newspaper will cease printing
and will hereby become state property.
Any who give themselves up willingly will be granted amnesty and will
not be persecuted for their prior crimes.”
The policeman took back the decree.
“Well, you heard him, one of your own, if
you come out now, we will let you go unharmed.”
A voice rang out from the dark house.
“Yeah, and what if we don’t?” The police officer smiled.
“Well, then it will be the pleasure of my
men to escort you from the premises.” A
few moments of agitated silence ensued.
A horse whinnied, the soft breeze brushed a tree against a fence in the
distance.
“Come now, we haven’t got all night.” The dark house was silent. Suddenly a shot was fired from the side of
the house. Another rang from behind the
policemen themselves. The men turned and
fired haphazardly into the darkness. The
artillery and machine guns roared, blowing holes into the sides of what had
once been the home of the Club of Anarchists in Moscow. The brutal repression of anti-communist
forces had begun.
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