On July 19, Kornilov communicated to Kerensky the terms on which he was prepared to accept command: (1) he would owe responsibility only to his conscience and the nation; (2) no one would interfere with either his operational orders or command appointments; (3) the disciplinary measures which he was discussing with the government, including the death penalty, would apply to the troops in the rear; and (4) the government would accept his previous suggestions.4 Kerensky was so angered by these demands that he considered withdrawing his offer to Kornilov, but on reflection decided to treat them as expressions of the general’s political “naïveté.”5 In fact, he was heavily dependent on Kornilcv’s help because without the army he was powerless. To be sure, the first of Kornilov’s four conditions verged on the impertinent: it can be explained, however, by the general’s desire to be rid of interference by the Soviet, which in its Order No. 1 had claimed the authority to countermand military instructions. When Kerensky’s commissar at headquarters, the SR M. M. Filonenko, told Kornilov that this demand could arouse the “most serious apprehensions” unless he meant by it “responsibility” to the Provisional Government, Kornilov replied that this was exactly what he had in mind.6 Then, as later, until his final break with Kerensky, Kornilov’s “insubordination” was directed against the Soviet and not against the government.
The terms under which Kornilov was willing to assume command of the armed forces were leaked to the press; probably by V. S. Zavoiko, Kornilov’s public relations official. Their publication in Russkoe slovo on July 21 caused a sensation, earning Kornilov instant popularity in non-socialist circles and commensurate hostility on the left.7
The negotiations between the Prime Minister and the general dragged on for two weeks. Kornilov assumed his new duties only on July 24, after receiving assurances that his conditions would be met.
In fact, however, Kerensky neither could nor would keep his promises. He could not because he was not a free agent but the executor of the will of the Ispolkom, which viewed all measures to restore military discipline, especially in the rear, as “counterrevolutionary” and vetoed them. To have carried out the reforms, therefore, would have compelled Kerensky to break with the socialists, his main political supporters. And he would not honor his promises because he soon came to see in Kornilov a dangerous rival. It is always perilous for a historian to try to penetrate an individual’s mind, but observing Kerensky’s actions in July and August it is difficult to escape the conclusion that he deliberately provoked a conflict with his military chief, rejecting every opportunity at reconciliation, because he wanted to bring down the one man who threatened his status as leader of Russia and custodian of the Revolution.*
58. General Lavr Kornilov.
Boris Savinkov, the acting director of the Ministry of War, a man ideally suited for the role of an intermediary because he enjoyed the confidence of both Kerensky and Kornilov, drafted early in August a four-point program calling for the extension of the death penalty to troops in the rear, the militarization of railroad transport, the application of martial law to war industries, and the restoration to officers of disciplinary authority with a corresponding reduction in the power of army committees.8 According to him, Kerensky promised to sign the document, but kept on procrastinating and on August 8 said that he would “never, under any circumstances, sign a bill about the death penalty in the rear.”9 Feeling deceived, Kornilov kept on bombarding the Prime Minister with “ultimata” which so irritated Kerensky that he came close to dismissing him.10 Since Kornilov knew of Kerensky’s deep interest in the revitalization of the armed forces, his failure to act confirmed him in the suspicion that the Prime Minister was not a free man but a tool of the socialists, some of them known since the July putsch to be consorting with the enemy.
Kornilov’s badgering placed Kerensky in a difficult situation. He had managed since May to straddle the gulf between the government and the Ispolkom by conceding to the latter veto powers over legislation and going out of his way not to antagonize it, while, at the same time, vigorously pursuing the war, which won him the support of the liberals and even moderate conservatives. Kornilov compelled him to do something he wished at all costs to avoid—namely, to choose between the left and the right, between the interests of international socialism and those of the Russian state. He could be under no illusion: giving in to Kornilov’s demands, most of which he thought reasonable, would mean a break with the Soviet. On August 18, the Plenum of the Soviet debated, on a Bolshevik motion, the proposal to restore the death penalty in the armed forces. It passed with a virtually unanimous vote of some 850 delegates against 4 (Tsereteli, Dan, M.I. Liber, and Chkheidze) a resolution rejecting the application of capital punishment to front-line troops as a “measure intended to frighten the soldier masses for the purpose of enslaving them to the commanding staff.”11 Clearly, there was no chance of the Soviet’s approving the extension of the death penalty to troops not in the combat zone, let alone the subjection of defense and transport workers to military discipline.
In theory, Kerensky could have stood up to the Soviet and cast his lot with the liberals and conservatives. But that alternative was foreclosed for him by the very low esteem in which he was held by these circles, especially after the failure of the June offensive and his indecisive reaction to the July putsch. When he made an appearance at the Moscow State Conference on August 14, he was acclaimed by the left only: the right received him in stony silence, reserving its ovation for Kornilov.12 The liberal and conservative press referred to him with unconcealed contempt. He had no choice, therefore, but to opt for the left, accommodating the socialist intellectuals of the Ispolkom while trying, with diminishing conviction and success, to advance Russia’s national interests.