Germany 1918, pt. 2: Accounting for Hopes Betrayed, Conspiracy, and Counter-Revolution

Watch the SPD leaders conspire with the General Staff to keep the rabble away from the centres of power in November and December 1918: a tale of opportunities missed and the triumph of the 'moderates'

Preliminary notes: we talk so much about the seemingly ever-quickening pace of current events, and we’re not nearly doing enough to further our understanding of how we arrived in our time. One of the biggest problems of my field, History, is actually the (too-) close proximity of most colleagues—the overwhelming majority of my colleagues ‘does’ contemporary history, i.e., the period after WWI—to the events and developments they are trying to understand.

In part 1, we looked at the main events that led to the Revolution of 1918, and in this second instalment, we shall document the momentous transformation of Germany before, in the third part, we shall investigate the short-lived Bavarian Soviet Republic of 1919. The segment of this series will also discuss the most likely reasons for the failure of the Revolution.

Germany’s Distorted Remembrance

There are many in Germany who would prefer not to acknowledge the Revolution of 1918, hence its key events and lasting achievements are often obscured or talked about only in rather lofty, generalising ways. To cite but one of the more silly examples, look no further than the high-profile magazine GEO Epoche on the topic of the ‘Weimar Republic’, which appeared in late 2018:

The German Revolution is shrouded in myths…It was, historically speaking, a failed undertaking. It erupted when the transformation of the autocratic empire into a parliamentary democracy was practically complete and the end of the war was only a matter of a few days…This democratic upheaval is the work of the last imperial chancellor, Prince Max of Baden. (Geo Epoche Kollektion: Die Weimarer Republik, no. 12, Hamburg, 2018, p. 27).

The above may serve as an apt and quite illustrative example of the kind of fake history presented (fed) to the upper-middle classes by corporate publishers. Note that this particular publisher, Gruner + Jahr, is perhaps an especially telling example of the intimate ties between American media in support of US geopolitical interests and its many ties to its camp followers and vassals in Germany, arguably the cornerstone of US preponderance over the Old World. Gruner + Jahr is based in Hamburg, and it was founded in 1965 by Richard Gruner, John Jahr, and Gerd Bucerius.

All three individuals were (are) intimately connected to the commercial and political elites of the US-dominated city-state of Hamburg (which, like Bremen, only exists as a federal state, or Bundesland, because its port facilities were used/needed by the US forces occupying Germany after WWII, despite the rest of northern Germany being occupied by British troops). Note that Mr. Bucerius was the long-time editor of the daily Die Zeit, the Hamburg-based outlet of the left-liberal juste milieu, and an intimate fellow traveller of former West German chancellor Helmut Schmidt (in office 1974-82). After the end of the Cold War, as its Wikipedia entry holds, ‘Gruner + Jahr collaborated on the build-up of a free press in the new states’, i.e., in the former GDR. After 2000, the publishing house ran into serious financial troubles, which resulted in the powerful Bertelsmann Stiftung, one of the largest media conglomerates, acquired Gruner + Jahr in 2014. The venerable Hamburg-based publisher was thus added it to the Bertelsmann group’s sizable portfolio, which includes Penguin Random House, RTL Group (a multimedia/news organisation with its HQ in neighbouring Luxembourg), and BMG Rights Management, among others. By 2018, Geo Epoche, still published by Gruner + Jahr but fully owned by one of Europe’s largest media conglomerates with intimate ties across Europe and, courtesy of RTL Group’s cooperation agreement with Warner Media, functions as another layer in the Transatlanticists’ networks.

Honi soit qui mal y pense, indeed, if the above statement appears disingenuous, to say the least.

Yet, it’s important to understand that these above-cited views are not held exclusively by Northern German corporate media giants. In fact, it can be argued that these views are virtually identical to those espoused by the German political caste. This can clearly be seen in, e.g., the speech Federal President Frank-Walter Steinmeier gave in the Bundestag on the occasion of centenary of the German Revolution on 9 November 2018:

Yes, this revolution was also a revolution of missteps and shattered hopes. Still, it remains the great achievement of the moderate labour movement [gemäßigte Arbeiterbewegung] that—in a climate of violence, in the midst of hardship and hunger—it sought a compromise with the moderate forces of the bourgeoisie, that [the moderate labour movement] prioritised parliamentary democracy!

This statement is about as inaccurate as they come. Yes, there was a ‘climate of violence’, which all but dominated European life, abroad and at home, between late July 1914 and that date in November 1918. It is worth pointing out that the presumed addressees of Mr. Steinmeier—in particular SPD leaders Ebert, Scheidemann, and Noske—used ‘parliamentary democracy’ as way to, first, bypass the direct democracy practiced by the soldiers’ and workers’ councils, and second to establish institutions, norms, and procedures that could be controlled by the self-selected few very high up the party hierarchy.

Yet, Mr. Steinmeier’s statement is also a lie on another level: since that fateful party convention in 1906 (discussed in part 1), which marked the victory of the ‘moderate wing’ over the rank-and-file, SPD leaders did not ‘seek a compromise with the moderate forces of the bourgeoisie’. To the contrary, once the former’s support for the war was locked in, SPD leaders marched in lockstep with the right-wing extremists that increasingly dominated German politics before and especially during the Great War. Don’t just take my word for it, for here is Gustav Noske, MP from 1906-18 and a forceful proponent of expansionism in military and colonial affairs, who, in direct opposition to Mr. Steinmeier’s statement, declared:

I have always most emphatically opposed any compromise, because there was not the slightest doubt in my mind that the confrontation between revolutionary phraseology and real-world necessities would have to come sooner or later. (quoted in Klaus Gietinger, November 1918: Der verpasste Frühling des 20. Jahrhunderts, Hamburg, 2018, p. 102)

So, what happened in November 1918 in Germany?—The most obvious answer is: a democratic revolution against the remnants of the Old Regime, carried out and supported by a vast cross-section of society, which resulted in a drastic re-ordering of political power.

I think it is fair to state that the German Revolution of November 1918 rested on a larger social base than the contemporary Bolshevik Revolution in Russia (which is, in part, a function of higher rates or urbanisation in Central Europe and the numerically much larger German working classes relative to other aspects of production, such as agriculture). Still, the German Revolution of November 1918 sought direct democracy as practiced by workers’ and soldiers’ councils, and it was rather peaceful, at least as far as the revolutionaries are concerned.

Perhaps, and therein we may identify one of the more tragic aspects of German history, the revolutionaries assumed that their opponents would accept this idealistic and rather well-meaning régime change. History shows: they didn’t, and as was (is) often the case, the Old Order perceives such protagonists as weak, re-grouped, and ruthlessly counter-attacked.

These ascribed characteristics of the German Revolution are supported by the facts on the ground during the event, which may be sub-divided into three distinct phases: first, the ‘original’ revolution of November and December 1918. Second, the temporary Communist-led insurrection known as the Spartacist Uprising (5-12 January 1919), and, third, the right-wing Kapp Putsch (13-18 March 1920), known to posterity after its public face, Wolfgang Kapp.

What unites the above characteristics—and these three episodes—is that the SPD leadership, in cahoots with the old military and supported by big business and high finance, responded to all popular-democratic and anti-war demands with violence meted out by elements of the army and the paramilitary Freikorps. Repressive state violence rose from November 1918 to January 1919 and culminated in the Kapp Putsch of March 1920. Another unifying aspect of these episodes was the unprecedented nature of the violence meted out by state and para-state actors.

In light of these facts, it still boggles my mind when I (re-) read the German press from November 2018. Apart from the pieces cited above (as well as in part 1), here’s the Berlin-based daily Tageszeitung (taz), which published an interview with two leading left-of-centre luminaries, Meik Woyke (MW) of the SPD-affiliated Friedrich Ebert Stiftung and Uwe Sonnenberg (US) of the more-to-the-left-than-that Rosa Luxemburg Foundation. The interview appeared on 9 November 2018, and asked (my translation, my emphases):

Q: Mr. Woyke, when did you last hear the slogan ‘Who has betrayed us—Social Democrats’ [Wer hat uns verraten—Sozialdemokraten]?

MW: Oh, you can hear that one every now and then, but I consider this pretty undifferentiated, historically speaking. When one studies the Revolution of 1918/19, it is clear that the SPD contributed significantly that the crisis didn’t morph into a catastrophe.

Q: How about the Rosa Luxemburg Foundation? Do you hear that or another comparable slogan every now and then?

US: If, then it is meant ironically. Truth be told, no one would use that [slogan] today anymore. That said, I still hear [that slogan] every now and then when I’m out on the streets, but I cannot tell who or what is meant by it. What kind of treason did the Social Democrats commit?

Q: What do you think about that allegation?

US: Personally, I think this has to do with the SPD voting in favour of war financing in 1914. Still, he who looks for something [treasonous], is certainly bound to find both contemporary acts of betrayal and [the SPD-led pension reform of the early 2000s called] Hartz IV, as well as anything in-between.

Betrayal and treason, for which the English language uses two words instead of the one word used in German (Verrat) that covers both its personal-moral and the criminal-legal characteristics, are the main themes of this essay.

Before we continue, we need to further define the terms betrayal and treason, though, and this essay hypothesises that the SPD leadership’s actions between autumn 1918 and spring 1920 were characterised (if one wishes to call it that) by both aspects, acts of personal-moral betrayal and acts of criminal-legal treason. Hence, when I speak of either betrayal and/or treason in the following, it shall mean their combination, which, at least to my mind, is a quite accurate description of the political nature of the Verrat committed by the SPD leadership: Ebert, Noske, Scheidemann, and many others spoke of democracy, peace, and revolution while, at the same time and behind the rank-and-file’s back collaborated with those mainly responsible for the war, its conduct—that resulted in a kind of military dictatorship (which inspired Lenin’s later Soviet command-and-control economy)—and counter-revolution. Note, finally, that all of these dark forces were instrumental in the rise to power of the National Socialist régime under Adolf Hitler in 1933.

November 1918 in Berlin

The German Revolution was triggered by a refusal to carry out orders by sailors aboard warships in Wilhelmshaven on 28 Oct. 1918. The Naval Staff had ordered a final, desperate assault on the Allied blockade, despite indications to the contrary from the General Staff. Now, with the German troops retreating, the Navy dreamed of delivering the knock-out blow to the British—after staying in port for the better part of the war. While I will not list in detail the various events (which has been done by Haffner, Verrat, pp. 44-46, and Gietinger, November 1918, pp. 50-52.), I shall note that historian Sebastian Rojek, author of Versunkene Hoffnungen (Berlin, 2017, with the above episode on pp. 220-28), in a workshop I attended a few years ago called Germany’s elite naval officers ‘a cult’, due to their admiration, if not outright devotion, to Grand Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz (1849-1930), the father of Germany’s naval dreams.

There is but one important aspect to note: in late October, with the war being lost any days now, the sailors of Germany’s High Seas Fleet were ordered to engage in one final, presumably lethal, act of grand-standing. The order came after almost 1.5 years of unrestricted submarine warfare, which the very same officers detested, but they did so not because the submarines were ineffective against Allied shipping, but, as documented by Rojek,

the effect of the submarine war is not visible enough to bring about the necessary change of mood in time. The decision to intensify the submarine warfare will only be taken when a visible success at sea has given hope [of victory] a new lease of life. The only possibility of salvation remains a widely visible success over the British fleet, which in my opinion is only conceivable with the full commitment of our fleet. (quoted in Versunkene Hoffnungen, p. 221, emphases in the original)

Written by Captain William Michaelis, Director of the Navy Department with the Imperial Naval Administration, pencil-pushing armchair officer (who, by the way, worked as Head of the Navy of the Weimar Republic later), also revealed the odds of such an undertaking in a letter to Magnus von Levetzow, dated 5 October 1918:

I am certainly aware that it is an outright hazard. But if there is no other possibility, the risk is also justified. If it succeeds, I am convinced that everything is won; if it fails, nothing else is lost other than the hazard [i.e., the vessels and the tens of thousands of sailors; quoted ibid].

The sailors refused the order, issued on 24 October 1918, and they did so in an uncoordinated and unplanned manner. One of the highlights of the mutiny occurred a few days later when, on 4 November, the men of the III Squadron elected sailors’ councils and disarmed ‘their’ officers. They further hoisted red flags and went on to liberate their fellow sailors imprisoned in Kiel, Germany’s main naval base, for having refused earlier orders. By 7 November, the mutiny had spread to other coastal areas, including the cities of Lübeck, Brunsbüttelkoog, the metropolis of Hamburg, Bremen, and Wilhelmshaven. Inspired by these actions, anti-government and anti-war sentiment were spreading rapidly inland, reaching cities such as Cologne, Hannover, and Oldenbourg.

Needless to say, the government—by then including the ‘moderate’ wing of the SPD—was not amused. SPD leader Gustav Noske was duly dispatched to Kiel from where he reported, by telegraph, that he had but ‘one hope: the voluntary return [of the sailors] to order under social-democratic leadership’. When discussing Noske’s mission, Imperial Chancellor Max von Baden expressed Noske’s mission with similar candour: ‘Noske shall have a free hand in this attempt to suppress this local rising.’

These statements show the willingness on part of the ‘moderate’ labour movement to do the General Staff’s and the Imperial Government’s bidding. Yet, the proverbial genie was out of the bottle, and it was impossible to contain or suppress the revolt.

Two days later, on 9 November 1918, after these sentiments had reached the capital, a German Republic was proclaimed in Berlin. Note that there was not one republic that was proclaimed, but two: a ‘German Republic’ was proclaimed by SPD leader Gustav Scheidemann (this is the one republic that eventually became known as the Weimar Republic) while anti-war dissenter-turned-communist Karl Liebknecht proclaimed a ‘socialistic republic in Germany’.

Both were rather spontaneous actions, and even though the former was perhaps a bit more carefully ‘designed’ by the SPD leadership that had chosen to join, rather than fight, the Imperial Government (with Liebknecht’s proclamation thus falling more into the ‘aspirational’, or ‘idealist’, category), there was revolutionary spirit on the streets. Yet, these sentiments were not ‘guided’ or ‘pushed’ by any of the organised political actors and factions: neither Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht nor the Independent Social Democrats or the various Bolshevik-leaning and Communist groups were behind them.

The driving force was a group who self-identified as Revolutionary Stewards (Revolutionäre Obleute), a loose association of independent trustees, or shop stewards, who were elected freely from among the workers. They had remained outside the SPD-affiliated trade union and were not—and therefore could not be—controlled by the ‘moderate’ social democrats.

Needless to say, their deeds and memory has been disfigured beyond recognition. In the above-referenced magazine (hit) piece published by corporate subsidiary Geo Epoche, the Revolutionary Stewards are mentioned, albeit in passing, and they are mischaracterised as follows (p. 30):

Alarming reports are coming in from large Berlin manufacturing plants. The revolutionary movement cannot be stopped, SPD Stewards [Obleute] declared.

This is about as dishonest and misleading—yet another piece of ‘fake history’—as could be, with Klaus Gietinger’s recent volume November 1918 the one and most laudable exception (get your German-language copy here). Needless to say, Mr. Gietinger’s work has been memory-holed by the establishment media, which explains, to certain degrees, why there is not one large media outlet that published a popular review.

To learn about these Revolutionary Stewards, we turn to Sebastian Haffner, who, in his Der Verrat, writes the following (on p. 80):

The group of Revolutionary Stewards had formed in the great strikes of the previous winter [1917-18]. They had been the real leaders of the strikes. Since then, they had conspired together. They had been planning a revolutionary rising for some weeks when, on 4 November—without knowing anything about the avalanche that took place that day in Kiel [i.e., the prison-break of mutinying sailors in Kiel]—they had decided on a putsch [insurrection] in Berlin, scheduled for 11 November. They had procured and distributed weapons, as well as composed plans for a coup d’état involving the seat of government. While developments were all but outpacing the Revolutionary Stewards’ planning, they were not disposed to let slip the opportunity afforded by the quickening pace.

On the afternoon of 9 November, a great mass protested enthusiastically, if aimlessly and by then somewhat exhausted, in the streets of Berlin. Meanwhile, Ebert tried to govern in the Reich Chancellery and negotiators of the SPD and the USPD held seemingly endless discussions but could not agree on the conditions under which the USPD might enter Ebert’s government, the Revolutionary Stewards convened a meeting and took action…They saw clearly what the most important thing was: to provide the masses with leadership capable of action [eine handlungsfähige Spitze], an body that could determine policy, a revolutionary government [eine Revolutionsregierung]…thus, they gathered a few hundreds of their followers and in the evening…they occupied the Reichstag.

More than fifty years ago, Peter von Oertzen in his Betriebsräte in der Novemberrevolution, (repr. Bonn-Bad Godesberg, 1976, p. 72-73) wrote about the Revolutionary Stewards in a very similar manner. Oertzen notes that almost all of them ‘were members of the USPD and used the party as a platform for their activism’ while at the same time noting that they thought of themselves as ‘an independent group [and] not as an accessory of the party organisation’. For Oertzen, it was clear that ‘the Revolutionary Stewards were, in fact, nothing but the organised face of the working masses themselves’.

Contrary to these characterisations, in the above-referenced interview, Uwe Sonnenberg of the Rosa Luxemburg Foundation held the following:

There was no political force that held a blueprint for the revolution and that was prepared for 9 November [1918]. (as quoted in the Tageszeitung, 9 Nov. 2018)

Well, here is what the chairman of the Revolutionary Stewards, one Richard Müller, had to say about November 1918 in his very own Eine Geschichte der Novemberrevolution (1st ed. 1924-1925, reissued and introd. by Ralf Holfrogge in 2011, p. 246):

The preparations of the Revolutionary Stewards…undoubtedly had a decisive effect on the course of events. In many meetings, all eventualities of the uprising had been discussed with the most influential people working in the large enterprises…On the day of the uprising, there was no need for leadership, which would not have been possible even from a purely technical point of view anyway.

The main take-away is that the Revolutionary Stewards were exceptionally well-prepared for the attempted revolution—but so were their opponents, in particular Friedrich Ebert and the German ‘moderate’ Social Democrats. This situation may thus be appropriately summarised as follows: the rank-and-file workers, sailors, and soldiers were very much in favour of a revolution while thinking that the SPD leadership would stand besides (in front of) them. The SPD leaders—especially Ebert, Scheidemann, and Noske—however, were secretly plotting with the stalwarts of the discredited imperial system, in particular the generals in Wilhelmshöhe Palace.

On the evening of 9 November the Revolutionary Stewards held an improvised session in the occupied Reichstag, which resulted in the announcement of elections for workers’ and soldiers’ councils on 10 November. After the elections, the councillors (Räte) were to congregate at 5 p.m. at Zirkus Busch (a large convention hall-like structure) in the city-centre of Berlin to debate and vote on the revolutionary leadership.

At first, this move surprised the SPD leadership, but once the first shock was overcome, Ebert, Scheidemann, Noske, and others quickly moved to mobilise their supporters. As early as the night from 9 to 10 November, the SPD disseminated tens of thousands of leaflets in the barracks in and around Berlin, aided logistically and abetted by the Prussian Minister of War, Gen. Heinrich Schëuch.

Still, the revolutionary elections were a success, for they resulted in some 3,000 workers’ and soldiers’ councillors who congregated as planned at Zirkus Busch around 5 p.m. on 10 November. Much to the surprise of the Revolutionary Stewards, the majority of the elected deputies were—SPD functionaries, in particular among the soldiers’ councillor. While Klaus Gietinger, in his book November 1918, explained this ‘surprise’ by the lack of agitation on part of the anti-war USPD faction among the soldiers, but the main outcome of these council elections was that the debate in Zirkus Busch was dominated by demands of ‘Unity’ and ‘No Brothers’ Quarrel’.

Friedrich Ebert was the first speaker at Zirkus Busch, declaring very statesman-like that earlier that day, a government was convened that represented both the SPD and the USPD in equal parts. Ebert was seconded by USPD leader Hugo Haase, the next speaker. The third orator was renowned anti-war firebrand (after winter 1914, that is) Karl Liebknecht who decried SPD support for the war. This was not appreciated by the majority of deputies who voiced ‘considerable objections’, as Revolutionary Steward Richard Müller noted (Geschichte der Novemberrevolution, p. 266).

According to Müller’s own account, the Revolutionary Stewards weren’t prepared for this move by the SPD. Knowing the strength of the SPD, Müller and his fellow revolutionaries wanted the deputies to elect an Action Committee (Aktionsausschuss) consisting of the more ‘reliable members’ among the Stewards and the Communist Spartacus League. Employing what may be properly called Leninist tactics, Müller later admitted that this Action Committee ‘should have come about…without debate, that is to say by means of a bluff’ (ibid., p. 265). Much to Müller’s dismay, though, Emil Barth, one of the Stewards leaders, felt the need to explain this aim to the assembled deputies.

That was a mistake. The attentive listener recognised between the lines Barth’s intentions, which were not clearly expressed. At the last moment, Ebert demanded the floor and said that he did not consider such an Action Committee necessary, but if [and Action Committee] were to be elected, then it must consist of members from both parties in equal parts, just like the government. (ibid., p. 266)

Ebert’s motion carried the day. An Action Committee—later renamed Executive Council (Vollzugsrat) was indeed elected to function as a check on the government, and the Committee consisted of both SPD and USPD deputies in equal parts. What also worked against the revolutionary USPD, though, was Karl Liebknecht’s refusal ‘to be elected to a committee consisting also of pro-war supporters from the SPD’. As a consequence, neither Liebknecht nor his fellow Communist revolutionary Rosa Luxemburg were allowed to sit-in as guests in the Committee meetings (ibid., p. 429).

December 1918

About a month later, on 16 December, a first Imperial Councils Congress (Reichsrätekongress) was held. Theoretically, the spread—diffusion—of workers’ and soldiers’ councils across the entire empire could have been a momentous event. In practice, however, this wasn’t the case as there were simply no structures outside Berlin that were comparable to the organisation created by the Revolutionary Stewards. The Communist Spartacus League numbered a few thousand members across the empire, and the USPD, too, had no way to match the organisational strength and diffusion of the SPD. As a result, the pan-German Councils Congress was even more dominated by the SPD that the assembly in Zirkus Busch a month earlier.

Its results included an earlier date for elections to the Constitutional, or National, Assembly, which should be held on 19 January 1919. This marks an important achievement of the ‘moderate’ SPD wing as these elections meant, in effect, the ‘return’ to indirect-representative democracy. In other words: the SPD-dominated Imperial Councils Congress effectively abolished the role of the directly-elected workers’ and soldiers’ councils.

It comes as no surprise, then, that the Imperial Councils Congress installed a Central Council (Zentralrat) whose supervisory powers vis-à-vis the government were significantly reduced compared to the Action Committee formed a month earlier. Like Liebknecht’s refusal to participate in structures agreed-upon by the majority of representatives in November, the USPD delegates now refused to even participate in the Central Council. As a consequence, the Imperial Councils Congress was a resounding success for the ‘moderate’ SPD, even though motions for the collectivisation of key industries and the far-reaching restructuring of the military establishment were passed. As regards the latter, demands by the Hamburg Soldiers’ Council included the establishment of ‘peoples’ deputies’ among the general staff, the delegation of disciplinary powers to soldiers’ councils, and the ‘free election of officers’. These motions were firmly grounded in fears of a return of the military dictatorship practiced during the war while, at the same time, they also underscore widely-held anti-military sentiments.

Still, passing these resolutions was one thing—implementing them quite something else. Decisions were no longer made by soldiers’ and workers’ councils. Actual power was held, once again, by the government, and the SPD’s dominance over the formal institutions of government grew daily. This wasn’t just due to the SPD’s determination and tactical brilliance, though; the more the SPD leadership asserted control, the more the USPD and in particular their more radical wing refused to participate in these shared structures. On 29 December, the USPD left the government completely, therefore ensuring complete dominance by the ‘moderate’ wing of the SPD.

What is particularly remarkable about these events is that the social-democratic workers’ councils, although politically still loyal to the views of their party leadership, began to go their own way on economic questions and…to develop their own councils’ and economic programme…In the political field, too, the left-of-centre front gradually disintegrated. Although the SPD and the democratic elements had obtained a clear majority in the election to the Executive Council [Vollzugsrat] on 17 January 1919, the USPD faction managed to win over a third of the opposing workers’ councils in votes on fundamental political questions between 17 and 31 January 1919 and to get its motions passed. (von Oertzen, Betriebsräte, p. 83-84)

Like the more Leninist-inclined Revolutionary Stewards and the USPD, the ‘moderate’ SPD leadership too worked behind the backs of the rank-and-file and the various councils ostensibly set up to control the government. Still, there was but one crucial difference between all of these ‘vanguardist’ approaches to mass politics (sic), and that is the SPD leadership’s collaboration with the generals located outside Kassel.

There was some kind of understanding between Friedrich Ebert and the new Chief of the General Staff, Gen. Wilhelm Groener. Reached on 10 November, after the conclusion of the heated councils’ assembly in Zirkus Busch, Groener had demanded that Ebert worked with him to ‘fight against Bolshevism and radicalism’, i.e., the sentiments expressed by both the Spartacus League and the Revolutionary Stewards. In exchange for the SPD’s acquiescence, Groener offered whatever military support would be required. Contact between the Ebert government and the General Staff was facilitated by the secret telephone line between the Imperial Chancellery in Berlin and the military HQ (first in Spa, Belgium, later in Kassel). Gen Groener recalled he concluded an ‘alliance’ with Ebert on that fateful night of 10 to 11 November:

Ebert entered into the alliance I proposed…from thence, every evening we spoke about the necessary measures [die notwendigen Maßnahmen] over the secret line between the Imperial Chancellery and the General Staff. This alliance has proven its worth. (as quoted by Haffner, Der Verrat, p. 94).

It is worth pointing out that Ebert, while he remained silent about this arrangement, never contradicted Groener.

Thus, we’re able to observe that virtually every step the Revolutionary Stewards undertook after that fateful afternoon at the Zirkus Busch was matched, if not superseded, by counter-revolutionary actions. While Ebert and the rest of the inner circle of the SPD leadership spoke to the Berlin masses with one tongue, they spoke quite differently with the generals.

By 10 December, the German Revolution was all but over as ten divisions of the army paraded through Berlin. Their main aim was—the ‘cleansing [Säuberung] of Berlin of the Spartacists’. Groener’s orders were publicised in 1940 (by none other than the Nazi régime), which specifically included the following passage:

            Whoever has a firearm in his possession without a licence, will be shot.

Groener had ordered a swift implementation within five days, mainly because the troops were about to be demobilised and only partially reliable, with the latter aspect certainly facilitated by the revolutionary sentiments on the streets of Berlin.

Around Christmas, the next phase of the counter-revolution occurred. The Volksmarinedivision (People’s Navy Division), a 3,000-strong formation set-up a few weeks earlier and billeted in the Berlin Palace, was to be removed from the area. At the request of the SPD leadership—and certainly supported by Groener—the unit was to be sized down first by withholding payment. The armed sailors resisted and occupied the Imperial Chancellery, which prompted Ebert to call the generals for help.

A little while later, apparently more dependable troops from outside the city were dispatched. On 23 December 1918 Ebert ordered the attack on the People’s Navy Division, which was barricaded in the Palace’s stables. As the shelling continued for hours, thousands of Berliners marched to the Palace Square (Schlossplatz) to support the armed sailors. The protestors arrival greatly distressed the counter-revolutionaries. Many soldiers abandoned the fight, which prompted a general staff officer to send an urgent telegram to Kassel:

            The troops of General Lequis are no longer combat-ready.

In other words: panic struck the General Staff in Wilhelmshöhe Palace.

There were 70 dead in Berlin Mitte, and it would have been quite possible to re-instate the revolutionary councils and put those responsible—above all, Friedrich Ebert—to stand trial. Yet, this moment turned out quite differently, as explained by Sebastian Haffter:

The revolution had no leadership, it didn’t see its opportunity—and besides, it was now Christmas Eve. The sailors…had fought and won the day; now they wanted to celebrate. As for Liebknecht—who had nothing whatsoever to do with the events of the last few days [before Christmas]—he was busy all night producing a particularly effective denunciation number for the [Spartacist journal] The Red Flag, which came out the next morning with the headline in big letters: ‘Eberts Blutweihnacht’ [Ebert’s Bloody Christmas]. The Revolutionary Stewards, who that evening were sitting at home in front of the Christmas tree like everyone else…called for a demonstration on the first day of Christmas…The Independent Social Democrats, however…drew only one conclusion: that they had to get out of this government…In doing so, they did Ebert…the greatest favour. (Der Verrat, p. 120)

By removing themselves from the government, the USPD coincidentally made way for the SPD-only imperial government. One of the main organisers of the counter-revolutionary activities was Gustav Noske; so far, Noske had remained in the background—but on this occasion, he joined the cabinet.

Germany 1918: A Tale of Conspiracy and Betrayal

The collaboration of Ebert and Groener was, technically speaking, a conspiracy by means of the secret phone line between the Imperial Chancellery and the General Staff. Yet, at no point did Ebert hide his convictions. When, on 10 December 1918, the homecoming troops marched through Berlin, he gave a speech. Documented by many Berlin-based papers, Ebert said among other things, the following things (my emphasis):

Your sacrifices and deeds are without precedent. No enemy has overcome you…You have protected the homeland from enemy invasion, you have kept the murder and the gunfire of war from your wives and children and from your parents, and you have saved Germany’s fields and workshops from devastation and destruction…On you, above all, rests the hope of Germany’s freedom. You are the strongest bearers of the German future. (quoted by Gietinger, November 1918, p. 84).

Given these notions, it is hardly surprising that Ebert acted as he did a few days later. Without a doubt, dependable, right-leaning troops at the disposal of the SPD leadership were the wave not of Germany’s freedoms, but of its much darker future.

To be continued in part 3, in which we shall explore the heady days of early 1919.