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The relatively recent Kingsmen film (The King’s Man) had Ralph Fiennes and his co-star combatting an international conspiracy based around the First World War. A secret cabal, known as ‘the Shepherd’s Flock’, involving Grigorii Rasputin, Mata Hari and Gavrilo Princip (the killer of Franz Ferdinand), is the driving force of this story. The group is headed by a Scotsman who wishes to bring down the European Empires (by pitting them against each other) and achieve an independent Scotland. While most of this is nonsense, a vein of historical accuracy runs through the whole caper, perhaps unbeknownst to audiences. Many contemporaries did believe in fantastic conspiracies, intrigue, assassinations and espionage during the First World War. Rasputin, for example, was thought to have been the cause of the death of one of the war’s most recognizable faces. Lord Kitchener’s demise at sea in June 1916 after the HMS Hampshire struck a mine was attributed to Rasputin, who was accused of giving advance warning of the voyage to the German Kaiser.[1]
Tsarist Russia
Indeed, such fantasies flourished in Tsarist Russia during the First World War. The imposition of censorship in 1914 encouraged ordinary Russians to believe that the newspapers only reported half-truths. Some sections in newspapers were left blanked out which caused people to use their imagination to fill in the rest. The unstable political atmosphere provided fertile ground for fantasies of conspiracy to take root. The departure of Tsar Nicholas II to the front lines in August 1915 left Empress Alexandra Fedorovna seemingly in charge of the Russian government. Alexandra was born in Hesse-Darmstadt and her German origins encouraged many to believe that she was actively working against the Allied war effort. Though innocent in nature, her correspondence with relatives back home in Germany appeared intensely suspicious to the war-weary masses. By 1917, many came to believe she was actively working toward a German victory as part of a conspiracy involving court personnel and ministers who also had German heritage.
The ethnically diverse nature of the Russian Empire further fanned the flames of spy mania. Within Russia’s borders were high concentrations of Germans, many of whom arrived in the nineteenth century to escape their overpopulated homeland for the great open expanses of Russia. With the arrival of the war, they were the cause of intense suspicion. German surnames and family connections, viewed through the prism of war, were no longer innocent. Baltic Germans who had a close association with the Tsarist state, having served for centuries as Generals and functionaries, were cast as potential enemies. But it was not just Germans who fell under suspicion; Jews, Hungarians, Poles and Turks also found themselves in a similar category of ‘suspect’ populations. These fears were compounded when refugees from the western provinces arrived in the heart of European Russia, where they were treated with distrust. As fears increased, any eccentric who happened to be bilingual risked being detained for espionage.
Worry
Foreign commercial enterprises also aroused a similar level of worry. Russian military intelligence scrutinized foreign-owned companies and began a xenophobic, anti-commercial campaign against them driven at its core by fear of espionage. Early forms of ‘market research’ by such companies were interpreted by security officers as the gathering of intelligence for military purposes.[2]
According to an official of the tsarist secret police, known as the Okhrana, ‘spy fever ran through the whole of the Russian population like a plague’.[3] The same official recalled that even in the first few days of the war, a man came to his office believing he could hear a typewriter through the wall of his flat, convinced he had discovered a nest of spies.[4] This incident turned out to be nothing more than the work of a feverish imagination, but it was symptomatic of a growing paranoia about hidden enemies. In the Baltic states, a Lithuanian peasant claimed he had seen German biplanes coming and going to the estates of local German barons – one of which allegedly carried off a cow – important war materiel.[5] Another report suggested that a secret alliance of German Barons was supposedly waiting to take over the government in Estonia once the Kaiser’s armies arrived. In Poland, a ‘Singing and Gymnastics Society’ was allegedly a disguised Corps of 50,000 German soldiers ready to be deployed onto the battlefield. One official believed that a specific condition was afflicting the masses as early as 1914, which he described as ‘wartime psychosis’.[6]
Obsession with spies and traitors worsened in the second year of the war because of battlefield defeat. Both elites and the masses refused to accept that losses on the front were the result of strategic and tactical failures rather than the result of traitors behind the lines. A gendarme Colonel named Sergei Myasoedov became the target of recriminations because he had once hunted with Kaiser Wilhelm II before the war and had served on the border with the German Empire for a time. His contacts amongst German officers, which would have been unremarkable before 1914, took on conspiratorial undertones. Myasoedov and his associate, the War Minister Vladimir Sukhomlinov, were also associated with Jewish businessmen, which added further suspicion, implying connections with politically ‘unreliable’ groups. Myasoedov was hanged in Warsaw in 1915, but this did not put an end to the search for spies.
In fact, military intelligence officers unleashed a determined search for more traitors who were supposedly working behind the lines to the Russian Empire’s detriment. One military intelligence officer came to believe that German spies had enjoyed ten years of uninterrupted practice in the Russian Empire, developing vast networks of human intelligence.[7] Military intelligence activities bordered on absurd, confiscating German notice boards and restaurant menus.[8] This was all symptomatic of intense paranoia. Part of this belief was rooted in the changing nature of war and intelligence gathering; most of Germany’s successes had come from signals intelligence rather than spies behind Russian lies, a fact that many contemporaries failed to appreciate.[9] In reality, there was very little basis for genuine spy mania, as the wartime German head of intelligence later recorded in his memoirs the very modest value of German intelligence within Russia.[10]
War progresses
As the war progressed, Russian society became enmeshed in ideas of conspiracy at the highest levels. Many ordinary people, as well as military intelligence officials, believed that Myasoedov was only the tip of the iceberg and that the trail of treason led all the way to the Empress and, of course, her infamous confidante Rasputin. Even the British ambassador to Russia, George Buchanan, believed in the potential of a pro-German conspiracy. At the same time, German propagandists argued that Britain was plotting a revolution in order to install a pro-British liberal government which would continue the war.[11]
The 1917 revolution, which saw the collapse of the tsarist regime, can therefore be interpreted in the light of these ideas of treason, espionage and conspiracy, which were very real parts of life in Russia and the other combatant nations; these ideas may have been fantastical, but took on historical significance because contemporaries believed them.
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[1] Douglas Smith, Rasputin, (London, 2016), pp. 526-7
[2] Alex Marshall, ‘Russian Military Intelligence 1905-1914’, War in History, Vol. 11 No. 4, (2004), 411-13
[3] Alexei Vasiliev, The Ochrana: The Russian Secret Police, ed. Rene Fulop Miller, (London, 1930),
114
[4] Vasiliev, The Ochrana, p. 115
[5] Vasiliev, The Ochrana, p.
[6] Iain Lauchlan, Russian Hide and Seek: The Tsarist Secret Police in St Petersburg 1906-1914, (Helsinki, 2002), 363
[7] A. S. Rezanov, Nemetskoe Shpionstvo, (Petrograd, 1915), 140
[8] William Fuller, The Foe Within: Fantasies of Treason and the End of the Russian Empire, (Cornell NY, 2006)
[9] Andrew, The Secret World: A History of Intelligence, (New Haven CT, 2018), 502
[10] Walter Nicolai, The German Secret Service, (London, 1924), 121-3
[11] Boris Kolonitskii, ‘Politischeskie funktsii Anglofobii v gody pervoi mirovoi voiny’ in Nikolai Smirnov ed., Rossiia i pervaia mirovaia voina: Materialy mezhdunarodnogo nauchnogo kollokviuma (St. Petersburg, 1999), 276-77