The People's Reich.

Part One: Revolution, or Counter-Revolution?

The final years of the German Empire were to be a bloody and chaotic time both in Germany and abroad, for four great empires were tumbling down all at once, and no one knew what would replace them-if anything at all. Three ancient houses and one upstart found themselves unseated and it was up to political newcomers to mould a new Europe in which sovereignty lay in the people rather than in the scions of ancient and noble houses. However, in Germany itself the ultimate irony would be that it was one of these very scions who precipitated a revolution. On 3rd October, Prince Max von Baden was made Chancellor by the Kaiser. A liberal, the new Chancellor decreed an amnesty for all political prisoners, claiming that the nation needed to be united and open while he pursued what he had been appointed to do, namely, reach a peace agreement with the Allies. To do this, he included Social Democrats in his cabinet, including Freiderich Ebert and Philipp Schneidemann. He hoped that these two would stave off threats of a socialist revolution until the war could be ended and new elections called.

One of the political prisoners freed was Karl Liebknecht, a leading socialist and founding member of the Spartacist League alongside Rosa Luxembourg. As soon as he was released he resumed his leadership of the organisation and began publishing their party paper, The Red Flag. It called for non co-operation with the military authorities which had virtually taken over Germany, as well as repeated calls for a republic and for the removal of the ‘old elites’ which it blamed for Germany’s defeats. Liebknecht was careful not to sound triumphalistic in his columns due to his long-term opposition to a now lost war and The Red Flag was hugely popular. Socialist influences wormed their way into the ranks of the army and the Imperial navy, which had been sitting in dock for years. Dissatisfaction was rife, especially in the lower ranks and among conscripts and the edition for 26th October called for solidarity between ‘the soldiers, workers and labouring masses, oppressed together by militarists and capitalists’. In this, it drew inspiration from Russia’s combined soldier, worker and peasant Soviets which were currently fighting a gruelling civil war to the East.

The revolution was to come in November, when sailors in Kiel revolted against orders to attack the British fleet, and instead seized the town and proclaimed a Republic. By the 7th the revolution had spread to all the northern towns, and Munich was in a state of insurrection. Prince Max von Baden saw that the situation could not hope to be handled by an aristocrat, and so handed power to Freiderich Ebert whom he hoped would preserve as much of the old German constitution as possible, while making accommodations with the socialists to keep Germany whole; already Bavaria had declared a Social Republic and workers’ councils in Hanover, Frankfurt and Brunswick looked likely to reject the authority of the central government. Ebert announced on 10th November the abdication of the Kaiser. He also called for national unity, saying that ‘the road to prosperity does not lie in further bloodshed. As Germans and brothers we must stand together to rebuild our shattered land and as one people, clamour for a better tomorrow.’ As he said this, the Kaiser fled the country to the Netherlands, as the King of Bavaria fled into exile to Italy.

While Ebert said this, Liebknecht left Berlin and went to Kiel [1], the heart of the German revolution. He arrived at the naval base and was mobbed by a crowd eager to hear him speak. He addressed a crowd of 20,000 sailors and soldiers from a shore battery, and announced that ‘the People’s Revolution will not be fought in Berlin. It will be fought in our barracks and in our factories and in our fields. It is in our hearts that we must fight this battle, not in the Reichstag or in the halls of the establishment. We must tear up this ragged institution and as comrades together we must strive for our common destiny.’ Liebknecht was borne aloft by the crowd, and was elected President of the Kiel Administrative Council. It was in this function that he penned a letter, which was then published in The Red Flag, calling for all Germans to reject the authority of the Berlin government and instead raise the flag of mutiny and rebellion.

On 11th November the armistice was signed which ended the Great War. Millions of soldiers began to be demobilised as Germany braced itself for what would inevitably be a harsh peace treaty. In private, Chancellor Ebert said that ‘We should expect to be treated no better than Zanzibar or Turkey or any other half-sovereign people.’ However, the threat of Allied vengeance was a long way off when compared to the impending revolution. Ebert offered a hand to the socialists, saying that he wished there to be concord in troubled times. Ebert had never held high office before, and many of his steps were faltering, yet he knew what the people wanted and he knew that revolution was not a popular movement. He addressed a crowd in Berlin saying that ‘some would have us believe that revolution is a glorious thing. I do not see those people on the barricades. I do not see those hack-writers and cowards fight on the barricade, waving the flag shouting ‘vive la revolution’. I see them hiding in barracks behind braver men, writing stern articles in their little papers. I say that these men mean for nothing to befall Germany but fire and blood and anguish.’

It seemed that this fiery rhetoric struck a chord, for Richard Muller, leading unionist and revolutionary, entered talks with the government over labour relations. He offered to withdraw any support for revolution in exchange for a Workers’ Committee which would oversee the democratisation of industry after the crisis was over. Ebert agreed to these conditions, and an armistice was made between Muller and the government. The Workers’ Committee was chaired by Muller and included representatives from the Independent Social Democratic Party, the SPD and Muller’s Revolutionary Stewards. Ebert secured himself a place on this Committee, yet managed to keep its operations in political deep-freeze for a while. While he did this, he entered negotiations with the leaders of the army. The military high command had collapsed following Ludendorff’s psychological breakdown; however Ebert was seen by most generals as a slightly respectable politician, or at least a deal better than anyone else on offer. Ebert and General Hindenburg had reached an informal agreement on 9th November, in which Hindenburg promised to support the Berlin government and Ebert to guarantee the army freedom from any reforms made after the war. On 14th November the army publicly backed the government, and issued a bulletin describing anyone denying their authority as ‘deserters and traitors to the German Empire.’ However, the Kiel mutineers ignored all these attempts to get them back to barracks, and it seemed civil war between the Berlin government and the Kiel Administrative Council was inevitable.

While this trouble was brewing, Bavaria was almost entirely out of government control; the Bavarian Social Republic had been declared on 9th November and the separatist government was beginning to enact socialist reforms. Although it publicly promised to respect property rights, it established militias of soldiers, armed with weapons taken straight from the munitions factories. Minister-President Kurt Eisner of the Independent Social Democratic Party announced that the Social Republic was ‘a friend to all the free peoples of the world’ yet his incompetent government led by students, actors and journalists could not even maintain order in Munich itself let alone Bavaria as a whole. Independent militias were formed by unionised workers and by demobilised soldiers to protect what was theirs, or what they had taken. The Munich government was little military threat, but it posed a huge propaganda threat; there were rumblings in the cities of the Rhineland and in Saxony which Ebert and the government needed to silence.

Chancellor Ebert called the Workers’ Committee to session on the 15th November and the body met for eleven straight hours during which the three main socialist parties hashed out an agreement to save Germany and forward the cause of socialism. The 16th November Bulletin was made public the next morning and it immediately gave the initiative to the government. The Bulletin announced Berlin’s support for the democratisation of industry, and offered to involve elected workers’ representatives in government. The Bulletin implied that the Reichstag would be filled with workers’ deputies, yet this was left purposefully vague. Almost immediately, factories were turned over to elected deputies. On 17th November Muller, as Chair of the Workers’ Committee, made an agreement with leading industrialists to protect their rights under the future government. They were promised continued ownership of their enterprises, and in return they offered significant concessions such as an eight-hour work day and paid holidays for workers.

With the Munich government and the Kiel mutineers isolated by government offers of democratically run industry, and significant concessions from industrialists, Ebert needed to play for time until demobilised soldiers could be fielded against the state’s enemies to crush the separatist governments in the North and the South. In order to do this, Ebert announced that there was to be a People’s Assembly in Berlin in December. He extended invitations to all elected labour representatives. The meeting was to be chaired by Richard Muller, with whom he had increasingly good relations, and would play a part in shaping the future German constitution. Ebert intended this body to approve his plans while distracting the public from the government reassertion of authority in Kiel and Munich.

The People’s Assembly was held in Dresden because of its neutrality; it was held by the government but was far away from Berlin and thus considered terra nullus. Over nine hundred delegates attended, most of them elected shop steward and union leaders. Most of them were not affiliated with any labour organisation, although nearly two thirds of them were affiliated with a leftist party, most of them with the SPD. It opened on the 3rd December, four days before Munich was placed under siege by government forces.

The Battle of Munich would last nearly two weeks as the Social Republic fought for its survival. General Hindenburg mobilised 40,000 men who, although officially demobilised, were employed by the government without public knowledge from what little war funds Germany had remaining. They surrounded the city and fought street to street, house to house for control of the city. President Eisner ordered the entire population to defend the Republic, yet the city was as divided as the nation itself. Several militias sided with the government, flying the black red and gold of the state rather than the plain red flag of the Republic. Other groups fought implacably against both sides; a clique of anarchists bombed a government check-point on 10th December and then assassinated one of Eisner’s deputies two days later. In the end their base of operations was ransacked by a government-sponsored militia and all its members massacred in the street. It was these militias which would bring an end to the Republic. A Catholic group calling itself the Bavarian Unionist Action Squad, comprising 108 armed men, attacked Eisner’s residence and, during the fighting, killed him. With his death all organised resistance ended, and the army occupied Munich. In a series of events which would later go down in infamy, the bedraggled soldiers, whose lives on the western Front had been hellish, pillaged the city’s relatively prosperous areas while exacting bloody vengeance on what they regarded as Communist traitors. 900 prisoners were executed in cold blood and their bodies thrown into the Isar River. No one would be held accountable for these deaths, and the massacre would later be used as propaganda by Communists.

With the Munich Republic crushed and demobilised soldiers flooding back to civilian life, the government was faced with a whole new series of problems. They did not want Germany to be held hostage by roaming gangs of armed thugs with no money or work to return to. They also needed to crush the uprisings in the North. Philipp Schneidemann thus met General Hindenburg, and cajoled him into allowing demobilising units to elect special Commissioners, who would lead them following demobilisation. Schneidemann knew that they were not ready for civilian life and that brining millions of men back into German society would be massively destabilising. He planned for the soldiers to be quasi-military units; still under arms but not under official government sanction. He hoped these could then be used to break the Northern Revolutionaries and then be brought into the People’s Assembly where he could keep an eye on them. Meanwhile, the Executive Council agreed to postpone elections until April 1919, by which time they hoped public order would be sufficiently restored to allow a fair vote.

Returning soldiers, finding large parts of their country out of government control were split. Many joined the revolutionaries, having been exposed to radical ideology in the trenches. Others banded together to fight socialism in all its forms, and created the Freikorps, a reference to the German militias which had fought Napoleon over a hundred years previously. The majority, however, just wanted to go home, and millions deserted completely ignoring Ebert’s offers of elections. By the beginning of 1919 only 400,000 men were under government command and most of these were stationed in the south. On 15th January a battalion of Freikorps attacked Minden, a small railway head in Westphalia which had been seized by a union of rail and factory workers. The soldiers captured the town and shot several leading unionists, hanging their bodies upside down from the old Hanseatic town hall. Ebert was appalled by the violence yet saw in the Freikorps a weapon to use against the revolutionaries.

Violence between the Freikorps, the government and the Northern Revolutionaries continued throughout January and into February. Regular army units supplemented by Freikorps moved through the industrial cities hanging and shooting revolutionaries only to be met by guerrilla warfare in some cases and sullen acceptance in others. Richard Muller and his Revolutionary Stewards organised shop floor militias to defend facoties and towns against both Liebknecht’s forces and the Freikorps. Muller loosely organised them under the German Labour Division, of which he was head, yet they were mostly a local phenomenon and played little role in attacking revolutionary positions. They did, however, contain much of the violence and would later become the basis of Muller’s political aspirations.

On 2nd February 1919 Karl Liebknecht led a summit of soldiers, sailors and workers deputies in Hamburg where he was elected President of the Federal Workers’ Council (BAR). He called for mass mobilisation against the government, and he said that if the North did not fight, they would be massacred like Munich. Ebert was in a sticky situation; the brutal treatment of Munich left little room for negotiation with the
Northerners and he balked at a protracted counter-insurgency campaign. Philipp Schneidemann began talks with more moderate factions within the BAR to get them to secede and join the People’s Assembly. He used the threat of Freikorp retaliation and offered them representation in government if they left Liebknecht and the hard-liners alone. Before talks were done, Hanover and Brunswick seceded on the 10th February from the BAR because they feared reprisals from Freikorps as well as their opposition to Liebknecht’s extremist views. Their leaders took seats in the People’s Assembly and were personally welcomed by Richard Muller, in the hope that more could be enticed to leave the Revolutionaries. Throughout February more and more territory slipped away from the BAR and by 1st March Liebknecht was left with just Kiel and Hamburg under his control. Hamburg surrendered on the 3rd March after Freikorps assassinated the leader of the city’s Provisional Workers’ Council. Finally, with just Kiel left, Liebknecht settled down to a final stand-off.

Kiel was defended by 30,000 sailors and soldiers, as well as a large militia led by the Spartacists, whose leaders had all retreated to the city. Surrounding the city were 50,000 soldiers and unknown numbers of Freikorps militias led by assorted officers, as well as Ebert’s elected Commissioners. The attack began on the 5th March from the west. Government forces took Kronshagen by the 7th and one military unit reached Laboe on the coast by the 9th. Frontline commanders sent reports of gains made back to Berlin, and many in the government feared that Kiel would be like another Munich, except with trained soldiers on both sides and tensions running much higher. Chancellor Ebert, knowing full well that Kiel would fall in a matter of days, dispatched telegrams to Commissioners and officers telling them to show restraint. There was little he could do, however, to prevent a massacre once the city fell.

The fighting was brutal and continued on until the 21st March, when the garrison surrendered. Laying down their arms, hundreds were summarily executed by their comrades and militias alike, who saw them as traitors and cowards. The Spartacists took refuge aboard a destroyer, yet they were unable to pilot it and, facing bombardment from government-controlled shore defences, surrendered. Karl Liebknecht was killed by Freikorps and his body thrown into the sea, yet Rosa Luxembourg was taken alive. She was tried before a military court and executed on the 22nd March, her punishment presented as a fait accompli to the government. Ebert knew full well that the slaughter had been pre-calculated by many of his combatants, yet he publicly denied all knowledge of the victors’ actions. The far-left would brand him as the butcher of the North and the South, and he would go to his grave with the epithet ‘Class traitor and butcher’ tied to him.

With the fall of Kiel the German Revolution was over. The entire country was in the hands of the Berlin government, and Freiderich Ebert was recognised by all as Chancellor. Fighting would continue until the end of 1919 as smaller left-wing and right-wing militias battled one another and against the government, yet there would be no more challenges to the state as a whole.






[1] the initial POD is that Liebknecht gose to Kiel to support the mutineers there rather than stay in Berlin and proclaim his own republic. This makes Ebert's provisional government more stable and heads off the Spartacist Revolution.
 
Saepe Fidelis

Interesting and I think a good bit bloodier than OTL? However might make for a more stable government in the aftermath, hopefully. Ebert is going to have to handle the army and the Freikorps to enable lasting stability.

What are the allies doing while all this is going on? Presumably the armistice is holding but is there any interaction with other powers? Also with what seems to be a large scale collapse of the German army, presumably things are pretty chaotic in the east?

Steve
 
I think that Liebknecht wasn't so popular in 1918 to become the leader of the Kiel mutiny.

And now that the Freikorps have armed themselves, let's see who's going to disarm them.
 
I think that Liebknecht wasn't so popular in 1918 to become the leader of the Kiel mutiny.

And now that the Freikorps have armed themselves, let's see who's going to disarm them.

It's not so much the Freikorps habve been armed as independent militias which are backed by the army. But the effect's still going to be pretty unsettling.

Thanks for all the interest, and yes, it is somewhat bloodier than OTL although the Republic will be a lot more stable than OTL.
 
Part II: Versailles and a New Republic.

The national election of the 14th April 1919 was to be one of exceptional violence and tension across Germany. With the Paris Peace Conference hanging over proceedings, both far-right and far-left groups partook in violence against voters and each other. Ballots were stuffed, voting booths attacked and one socialist candidate in Thuringia was gunned down by a member of the Freikorps, which was frustrating Ebert by not disbanding. Local Freikorps chapters began to front their own candidates for election, and in several places there was open violence between them and socialist candidates; this usually devolved into brawls between demobilising soldiers and veteran union workers. The parties predicted to do well in the election were the Social Democrat Party, because of Ebert’s restoration of law and order and because of millions of union votes, but also the Catholic Centre Party and the Democratic Party, both of which were more traditionally liberal and rejected socialism.

When the results came in, it was a great night for socialism in Germany, if not for any particular party. The SPD won the largest share of the vote, with 30%, yet the left-wing vote was split with the Independent Social Democrat Party, with 11% and the Independent Labour Party led by Richard Muller, with 14%. The non-socialist parties which did well were the Catholic Centre Party with 21% of the vote and the German Democratic Party with 18%. The rest of the nation’s votes were split between small parties which were too small to earn seats in the National Assembly. Seats in the Assembly were distributed proportionally, and it first met on 1st May 1919. It elected Freiderich Ebert as its President and he in turn appointed Philipp Schneidemann as Chancellor. In his opening statement to the Assembly he made clear what it was meant to do: first, to consider any peace treaty laid down by the Allies which may be concluded in Paris. This was especially pertinent as the final Treaty of Versailles was to be handed over to Ebert a week later. Its second role was the creation of a new Constitution for a new German state. Ebert made it clear that the world was changed; with the Kaiser gone and with the army largely discredited, Germany would have to forge a new political consensus. In private, he said that this would be a socialist one, yet he did not say this publicly for fear of exciting further violence, or discord in the Assembly.

On 7th May 1919 German Foreign Minister Ulrich von Brockdorff-Rantzau was presented with the completed Treaty of Versailles. He cabled Ebert saying that the terms would break Germany, and Ebert was in a mood to concur. He discussed the matter with Hindenburg, who told Ebert that the German army was largely demobilised, and that even if it could be brought to the battlefield, the men were so demoralised and poorly provisioned that they would either desert or starve within a week. He then told the President the fact that the United States had mobilised 5 million men already and had a population as large as Russia’s to draw more from. Ebert reportedly turned green and shrank a little when faced with these numbers, and three days later the government backed ratification of the Treaty in the National Assembly. It passed with a margin of 112 votes in a 400-stong chamber, with 56 abstentions. Chancellor Schneidemann resigned in disgust after the vote was passed, and Ebert replaced him with long-time union leader and former SPD member of the Reichstag, Gustav Bauer.

The acceptance of the Treaty of Versailles damned Germany for a generation in the eyes of the world; reviled and now horrifically punished, it was pariah both diplomatically and economically. Her economy crushed and her long-fostered allies now broken, she was alone. Events in Russia were taking a turn for the worse, as the White Armies of Admiral Kolchak swept into European Russia with hordes of Cossacks and Tartars following them led by Baron von Sternberg. Several ex-army strategists seeing this wondered if they should have allowed Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov to return to Russia, rather than keeping him in Switzerland. Germans were shocked by the sight of French troops once more in Strasbourg, and a new Polish army occupying the territory allotted to them, areas which had been integral parts of ancestral Prussia. All of this bred a new political sub-culture in Germany which formed around the traditional conservatives but also new radicals, most of whom were ex-soldiers. Anti-Semitism, anti-communism and a hatred of ‘the Diktat’ and of Poles, Frenchmen, Czechs and other ‘subject races’ which had eaten at the fallen body of the German Reich mixed into a new hatred which filled some peoples’ heads. Fortunately, they were not many, and not sufficiently connected to be politically influential.

With its first duty painfully carried out, the National Assembly then set about creating a new constitution through which Germany was to be ruled. Finally completed and signed into law by President Ebert on 15th September 1919 it announced that the German Reich was henceforth a Republic, with a President elected by popular vote serving a seven-year term in office. The President would appoint a government which was responsible to him and to the Reichstag. The Reichstag was created as the national legislature, elected by proportional representation and universal suffrage. The Constitution was the most liberal and democratic of its time, and would be used in the future as a role-model for democratic governance. However, there were two overtly political clauses entered into it.

The first was a nod to nationalists, including one of the Constitution’s writers, Hugo Preuss, who were aggrieved by the Treaty of Versailles’s explicit banning of any union between Germany and Austria. The Constitution stated that it ruled any lands currently controlled by the Reich, or any other lands which entered it through plebiscite. It thus left open the possibility for integration of Austria and any other lands which might be cajoled into joining the Reich.

The second part was a concession to the Independent Socialists and other parties which supported the democratisation of industry. It gave control of all employment legislation, as well as economic regulation including control over mergers and acquisitions, to the Reichstag rather than to Germany’s Landtags which controlled the provinces. This was done so that the next government, which everyone guessed would be dominated by the SPD, could pass through legislation which would socialise the economy and take control of industry for the people.

On the signing of the Constitution, Ebert announced that as the first President of the Reich he was dissolving the National Assembly and called for elections to be held within ninety days. The date for Reichstag elections was fixed at 11th January. The final issue the National Assembly voted on was whether to hold a Presidential election alongside these elections, given that Ebert had never been elected by the German people as specified by the Constitution. They finally agreed that an election was not necessary, but that Ebert had already served out one year of his term of office, and thus the next Presidential elections, barring any unforeseen circumstances, should be held in 1926. The body was then dissolved, and the election race began once more.
 
Part III: Reconstruction.

Nothing? Ah well, here's more.


The 1920 elections were less violent than those of the previous year, but no less tense. The Independent Social Democrat Party and the Independent Labour Party formed a pre-election alliance and campaigned together, their main point being the nationalisation and democratisation of the economy. The SPD, an early frontrunner, campaigned on a basis of economic moderation and focusing on restoring Germany’s lines of international credit to provide for industrial reconstruction. The votes finally came in and left the SPD with 34% of the vote, followed by the Catholic Centre Party with 25%. The ISDP/ILP Alliance came third with 22% of the vote. The German Democratic Party won 11% and the German People’s Party won 4%. Smaller parties took up the rest of the votes but won between them only a handful of seats. The leader of the SPD, Bauer, decided not to ally with the Alliance but rather with the Catholic Centre Party and the German Democratic Party to create a large majority in the Reichstag so that he could counter-balance ISP/ILP economic radicalism. As a Social Democrat he wanted to create a fairer economy and to bring social justice to Germans, as was laid out in the Constitution. However, he feared that economic radicalism in such tender international and domestic times would only harm the German economy. On the 18th January Ebert accepted Bauer’s plans for a coalition government and appointed him Chancellor of the German Reich.

The first Weimar Coalition government was relatively moderate due to the presence of the CCP and the German Democratic Party, none of whom were in favour of the democratisation of labour like the other socialist parties were. Chancellor Bauer was repeatedly challenged by the 16th November Bulletin, which pledged the SPD to supporting the democratisation of the economy. He replied that, in time, industry could be reformed in a more equitable manner but that the German economy was so badly damaged by the war that tinkering with the essential components of the economy would be more damaging than constructive. However, on 3rd April 1920 he introduced legislation which would create Labour Boards in every factory which employed more than 100 people. These would be comprised of labour leaders, managers and technical experts who would negotiate labour disputes and discuss the future of the venture. Bauer said that these Boards would redefine labour relations from a confrontational one to a co-operative one. He also said that these Boards would prepare unions and workers for greater management roles within the economy. Through this he extended an arm to more radical members of his own party and the other socialist parties. However, by June 1920 six SPD deputies had joined the Independent Social Democrats because of the government’s support for continued private ownership of industry. However, the government remained united and relatively strong.

The German economy’s real problems were not related to labour relations, however, but rather the procurement of capital for industrial reconstruction. The government publicly declared its hostility to the enormous reparations remanded by the Treaty of Versailles, yet was determined to make every payment in order to maintain a good credit rating abroad. Every nation in Europe was in debt, even Britain and France, whose economies were equally dependent on German reparations and American loans. Finance Minister Eugen Schiffer introduced a new German currency-the Deutschmark, which was pegged to the gold standard. With this he hoped to convince foreign speculators that Germany could pay its debts and was a stable investment. He travelled to America in May 1920 and discussed a financial recovery loan with Treasury officials, but he was then told that there was too much anti-German feeling in the House of Representatives and in the general public to make it politically viable. However, he was able to convince several Wall Street investors to lend Germany money at a moderate rate of interest.

What little funds Germany could scrape together were channelled into an Industrial Reconstruction Fund created by Schiffer on 23rd May 1920. It provided loans to German industrial firms, especially those in key sectors such as steel manufacture. These targeted government loans helped some firms recover some of their losses, yet the German economy was still critically damaged, especially with millions of skilled workers killed. Furthermore, unemployed demobilised soldiers pushed unemployment up to nearly 20% and fuelled unrest, especially among the Freikorps, which continued to attack socialists and government officials.

1920 was thus a year of little to no growth in the German economy; war reparations were crippling industrial recovery and the government was running at a massive deficit. The great fear of the government was that the state would be unable to meet its reparations payments and thus invite further punishment from the Entente powers. In September 1920 the Foreign Minister Herman Muller and Finance Minister Schiffer travelled to London to meet with British officials. They proposed that Germany’s annual reparations payments be frozen for five years so that German industry could recover from the war. The British were sympathetic, and John Maynard Keynes wrote a much-read column in The Times calling for reparations payments to be shrunk in absolute terms and their payments rescheduled. The British pressed this line of argument to the Reparations Commission later that month, but the French and Belgians would not hear of it, demanding that Germany make all of its payments on time lest they seize German territory as security. In truth the French did not much care for the money itself-roughly 270 billion Marks to be distributed to all aggrieved nations. They feared German resurgence, and were thus keen for Germany to be economically handicapped, and were not aghast at occupying German territory, partially as vengeance for the war but also to create a buffer between themselves and their larger, more populous neighbour.

Faced with French and Belgian intransigence, Chancellor Bauer announced that Germany would default on all of its payments for 1921 and instead spend the money on the Industrial Reconstruction Fund. France, outraged, demanded that all the payments be made in full by the end of 1920. Bauer refused, and in turn French Prime Minister Leygues ordered military mobilisation, publicly stating that France intended to occupy the right bank of the Rhine in co-operation with Belgian forces. Some of the more radical members suggested that France establish a puppet government in Köln, yet it was feared this would lead to a greater conflagration which France could afford neither financially or demographically; Leygues cringed at the thought of losing even more young Frenchmen. The occupation of the Rhineland lasted seven months during which time there was a general strike in the occupied areas, as workers refused to supply France and Belgium with the pre-determined reparations shipments of coal and other materials.
When the French entered Bonn on the 18th November 1920 Chancellor Bauer resigned, and the Reichstag exploded in a storm of acrimony against the government. Unemployment was 25% and the much-flaunted Industrial Reconstruction Fund was only a dribble of capital in a withering economy. President Ebert appointed Herman Muller as Chancellor on the 19th and the Chancellor used his inaugural speech to plead for American and British help. He would use the next week to campaign non-stop for international mediation of the Rhineland Crisis. He visited the area and spoke with striking miners who were on the dole, another enormous burden for the government. Only the government’s commitment to the gold standard saved the German currency, yet there was little good news for the German economy.

Finally in December 1920 the Reparations Commission agreed to establish an advisory body which included Charles Dawes and John Maynard Keynes. Both took a sympathetic stance to German debt, and the final agreement provided for a reduction of reparations payments to 200 billion Marks, a resettlement of payments which would mean Germany would pay one billion Marks in 1921 to be increased by 500 million Marks the following year and a further 1 billion Marks the following. Germany also received 5 billion Marks of loans in order to rebuild its economy. The Dawes-Schiffer Agreement was mutually agreed upon, yet France continued to occupy the Saarland in order to guarantee German payment.

With 5 billion Marks of loans to fund industrial growth, the Industrial Reconstruction Fund became a significant financial implement for the central government. 3 billion Marks were earmarked for the provincial Landtags to use as they saw fit, so long as the money was spent no economic investments. The rest of the money was used by the IRF to invest in German industry. The firms that did best out of this funding were the large corporations, especially those involved in heavy industry. The government loaned 4 billion Marks to various firms in 1921 using both foreign money and money allotted in the state budget. Accompanying these investments was the introduction of a flat income tax for all those earning more than 20,000 Marks a year, as well as increases in customs duties and tariffs. A sales tax of 20% was placed on all goods with an exception on food-stuffs. These additional sources of revenue were ploughed back into the Industrial Reconstruction Fund as well as other government programmes; a second fund, the Reich Infrastructure Fund, which subsidised the construction of railways, bridges and causeways as well as new canals and roads. Unemployment fell by 7% in 1921 alone and would shrink to only 14% in 1922.
 
One query - where are all the right wing votes going? In the OTL 1920 elections the DVP and DNVP got nearly 30% between them - even where Weimar is more stable I think you'd still have a substantial portion of the electorate that wanted to see the back of it, even if they voted for a party (DVP) that was for the time being prepared to work within the system.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/German_federal_election,_1920
 
One query - where are all the right wing votes going? In the OTL 1920 elections the DVP and DNVP got nearly 30% between them - even where Weimar is more stable I think you'd still have a substantial portion of the electorate that wanted to see the back of it, even if they voted for a party (DVP) that was for the time being prepared to work within the system.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/German_federal_election,_1920

The right-wing's been considerably weakened by the rise of independent candidates who are under the loose umbrella organizations which sit as parties. Muller championed it but it's being copied by groups which have fractious politics and not a lot of ideological consistency but want to get votes.

There is a right-wing gap which is going to be filled by a National Socialist Party and a somewhat resurgent DVP, but that's gonna be the next election...
 
Part IV: The Russian Sivil War

While Germany began the long road to economic recovery, her eastern borderlands were a maelstrom of anarchy and warfare. Following the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, governments had been established in Warsaw, Vilnius, Riga, Talinin and Helsinki, as well as splinter governments across Ukraine and Belarus. At the time of the signing, the Provisional Government was made up of socialists and reformists, led by Alexander Kerensky and propped up by Leon Trotsky’s Communists, who controlled the Petrograd Soviet, were in favour of granting a peace treaty to Germany so that they could consolidate their power base and eventually push west again. Trotsky guessed, half correct, that Germany was too weak and war weary to support its eastern satellites for long, and that once the fighting in the East was done, and after he had liquidated his internal opponents, he could then turn his victorious armies west and conquer Europe with the enormous manpower of all of Russia behind him. His dream of world revolution would never come to fruition, however, as the White forces in the East were determined not to play along with his plan.

By 1920 all of Siberia and Central Asia were out of the control of Russian central government. Instead, they were ruled from Omsk by Admiral Kolchak, a well respected Imperial explorer and fleet commander. He had been brought to power by a combination of Cossack support and British gold; the British had initially subsidised him to bring Russia back into the War, yet after that ended their subsidy was replaced by Japanese funds; the Japanese wanted a pliant Siberian government which would not interfere in their plans for Manchuria and China. Kolchak was not a land soldier and so surrounded himself with Tsarist officers, most notably Anatoly Pepelyayev and the fearsome Baron Von Sternberg. The latter was an ex-cavalry officer who had abandoned western military decorum for the life of a Central Asian nomad, and because of this had the support of hordes of Mongol and Central Asian horsemen, whom he used to raid the European Russian steppe lands. Pepelyayev was an aggressive infantry commander whose lightning movements in Siberia had secured the East for the White cause. Between these three men all of Siberia was ruled as it had been under the Tsars of old; with military discipline and authoritarian rule. Trade unions were disbanded, rebels whipped and hanged and conscription enacted once more on a massive scale.

Kolchak’s massive spring 1921 offensive mobilised 130,000 soldiers; a large number of these were regular infantrymen who had been serving in the East during the Great War yet the majority were conscripts, taken from their hearth and land to serve as cannon fodder for the Whites. As Sternberg once said darkly “we will choke them on the bones of our dead.” Kolchak’s grand strategy was for Pepelyayev and 20,000 men to head north and take Archangel, thus opening the White Sea to his forces, and hopefully brining reinforcements from Finland or the Western powers, whom he saw as potential allies. While doing this, Sternberg’s cavalry, numbering 70,000 and comprised of the most fearsome nomads in the world, the descendents of the Huns and the hordes of Genghis Khan, would swoop down into the lower Volga and cause as much havoc there as possible, ravishing Provisional Government-held land and leaving nothing of worth for either side. Sternberg also made it his personal mission to recruit the Don Cossacks and the other horsemen of the North Caucasus, yet he kept this quiet. He wanted to have an ace in the hole in case Kolchak turned on him.

The storm broke in April 1921 when White forces captured Ulm in the Urals, from where Pepelyayev’s forces advanced North to Archangel. Government forces were outmanoeuvred; Pepelyayev travelled light and was faster than any of their lumbering columns; he lived off the land and all of his soldiers were Siberian veterans. While he marched, Sternberg fell on the South Russian steppe like an ancient warlord; thousands were killed by his forces and tens of thousands driven before him like a tide embodying the ancestral Russian fear of Central Asian invaders. The men they had thought subdued centuries past had risen again and took their vengeance upon anyone they met. Trotsky, when his war train passed through land devastated by Sternberg’s horsemen, called it “a scene even Attila would weep over.”

With Pepelyayev in the north and Sternberg in the south, the Provisional Government was incapable of decisive action. Kerensky and the Socialist Revolutionaries were divided and incompetent, and the Soviets were firm in their support for Leon Trotsky, their charismatic and competent leader. Kerensky feared a coup, and so he surrounded himself with a large bodyguard at all times and became almost dictatorial in his manner. He also contacted the Germans and French for help, yet neither of them were willing to send help. On 1st May 1921 Trotsky returned to Petrograd from a tour of the south aboard his war train, but instead of reporting to Kerensky, he headed to the Petrograd Soviet, where the Soviet’s leaders were expecting him. Kerensky was informed of this by his spies, and assumed the worst. He made to flee Petrograd, and ordered his forces to cover his retreat. Trotsky addressed the Soviet and then met with its executive committee. In that meting they resolved on toppling the Provisional Government and declaring a People’s State. However, as soon as they made this resolution they were interrupted by news of Kerensky’s flight. Where there had once been one government, there were now two.

Kerensky’s retreat discredited him in the eyes of many politically active Russians. His initial plan to go to Moscow was scotched when word reached him that the Moscow Soviet had mounted a coup and had declared him a persona non grata. He changed course for Novgorod. He arrived there on the 2nd and established his headquarters. The next day, word reached him that Trotsky had announced the formation of the Union of Soviets, a socialist government with himself as leader. Trotsky had urged workers, soldiers and peasants across Russia to form Soviets to resist the Whites and to organise their own activities rather than rely on “Imperialist or reactionary stooges.” Kerensky, with Novgorod firmly under his control, decided to carry on fighting. He mobilised 2,000 soldiers and 6,000 conscripts and commanded an area larger than most countries. He was determined to either die a hero or live a victor.

As history would have it, he would have neither. His decision not to surrender split the Government forces in Europe and thus allowed the Whites to smash west, seizing the Lower Volga and swarming into the North Caucasus. While Kolchak seized ever more ground, Trotsky settled his own scores. He dispatched Joseph Stalin and 10,000 men, mostly conscripts, to destroy the Novgorod government once and for all. Stalin’s forces grew by the day as village Soviets sent volunteers to defeat Kerensky, whom they hated even more than they hated the Communists. Novgorod was surrounded by the 30th May and after a two week long siege, Stalin hoisted a red flag over the city’s Kremlin. Within the ancient fortress they discovered Kerensky, being tended to by his personal physician for a self-inflicted bullet wound to the cheek after a failed suicide attempt. Kerensky was brought before Stalin and court-martialled. After an hour, Stalin ordered Kerensky taken to the Kremlin gatehouse, and there he was gunned down by a makeshift firing squad, along with two score of his followers.

Stalin’s purge was greeted with some relief in Petrograd, yet Trotsky found himself controlling less and less territory. The Ukrainian Hetmanate, established by the Germans yet tottering without their support, had gone over to Kolchak and the Don Cossacks had sworn loyalty to Sternberg (and no others). Trotsky’s one ace, which Kerensky had kept under wraps yet which had been discovered in a secluded villa to the north of Novgorod, was all he had against conservatives like Kolchak.

The Russian Imperial family had been bouncing around Russia for the past three years, taken first to the Urals, then to Novgorod before finally returning to Petrograd, where Trotsky kept them in the Smolny institute, away from prying eyes. As soon as the Tsar, his wife and their children were safely under guard, Trotsky sent word to Kolchak that if he wanted the Tsar, and more importantly, the Tsar’s son, to live, he would have to negotiate with the Petrograd government.

When Kolchak heard of this, he was pleasantly surprised to find the Romanovs alive; he had believed them long dead, if not at the hands of the Provisional Government then by the cutlasses of Sternberg’s savages. Trotsky had misjudged Kolchak’s character completely. Kolchak debated the issue with himself at length; he was more concerned with the honour of Russia and her army than with the Tsar, but on the other hand who symbolised Russia other than the Supreme Autocrat? He therefore replied to Trotsky that he would only take part in discussions on the condition that the Tsarevich Alexei be handed over to his forces at a neutral drop-off point. Trotsky realised that Alexei was his main bargaining chip; as sole heir to the throne he was the future of Russia; Nicholas was irrelevant. However, Trotsky did not want to unnecessarily inflame monarchist opinion by disposing of the Tsar, and so kept him in relative comfort in the Smolny Institute. Trotsky counter-offered the entire Imperial family asides from Nicholas and Alexei. Kolchak rejected this offer, saying that either Alexei be given or no one. At this point negotiations broke down, and Kolchak made a special point of increasing the aggression of his attacks; Pepelyayev captured Archangel and the North after a long campaign and returned the region to the way it had been run under the Tsars. Trotsky was now outflanked; the North and the East were closing in on him, and the South was a sea of anarchy. He marshalled 160,000 men, yet they were not enough to reverse the war.

The Russian Civil War entered its endgame phase in 1922, the fighting having continued through winter. By that point all of Ukraine was in White hands and the Belarusian separatist government had fallen as well. Kolchak had made separate peace treaties with Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia and Finland acknowledging their independence in return for military aid against the Communist. There was much acrimony among the Whites when they heard this deal had been made, yet Kolchak insisted it was only temporary. What really concerned him was Sternberg. The already unbalanced cavalryman had become increasingly insane through the war, partially due to his heavy use of opium but also the atrocities he had committed and the brutal nature of the war he was waging. It came as a great relief then when, on 16th March 1922, Sternberg was struck by a piece of shrapnel in the forehead, and was killed instantly. His hordes fell apart on his death, with many of them returning home while others remained with Kolchak. The Cossacks accepted Alexander Dutov as their leader; he was a loyal supporter of Kolchak and less bloody minded than Sternberg.

By May, White forces were closing in on Moscow, whose defences were ramshackle at best. The Communist commander, the infamous Joseph Stalin, ordered that the city be held at all costs so that it might serve as a beacon of hope against the White forces. He marshalled all the strength available to him to defend the ancestral capital, but it was not enough. Kolchak took command of the assault himself, and ordered heavy artillery to bombard the city while infantry units attacked the suburbs. The fighting lasted for more than a month, with heavy casualties on both sides. It ended with the Kremlin gate being blown open by a mine and White forces pouring into the breach to put an end to Soviet rule in Moscow. Stalin remained in command to the last, even when his lackeys had all shot themselves or been strung up by Whites. He ended his own life on 14th July, on the anniversary of the fall of another bastion of terror and authoritarianism. Surely, the irony was not lost on him.

With Stalin and Moscow lost, Trotsky was left with Petrograd alone. Despairing, he decided to flee, as did most of the Soviet leaders. However, the Kronstadt garrison changed sides on 16th July and blockaded the harbour. Trotsky then prepared for the defence of the city by erecting barricades across the Prospekts and conscripting tens of thousands of civilians, including women and children. In these final days he donned military uniform and marched about inspecting barricades, as if they would save him. He also began to drink heavily, and his decision making became more and more erratic. On the 24th July there was a bread riot which was dispersed with artillery and gunfire. The next day Trotsky visited the scene and inspected the soldiers who had fired on the protesters. One of them, a young private named Pyotr Pasternak, shook the revolutionary leader’s hand and as he did so, shot him three times in the chest with his pistol. The assassin was taken alive and shot the next day for treason, but Trotsky was dead before he hit the pavement. His weak constitution had been wrecked by exertion and alcohol. All this, coupled with three bullet wounds had significantly weakened his heart, and he died almost instantly. It was as if life itself abandoned the once-impressive man.

With Trotsky dead, all hell broke loose in Petrograd. When Kolchak heard of the assassination, he stepped up his advance, ordering his lieutenants to take the capital as soon as possible. The implosion of the Petrograd Soviet was observed by the Romanovs, who did not know whether to be bemused or terrified. They were most fortunate, for events conspired to deliver them from peril. The particular faction who saw fit to seize the Imperial family wanted to use them as a bargaining chip with Kolchak, much as Trotsky had tried to do. They took the family in an armoured car under escort out of the city to a small dacha where they were secretly held. While the days passed there, they became more and more apprehensive. Finally, on the 1st August four guards came for them. They were marched to a field which opened onto a small field. Across the field was another gate, with four soldiers standing at it. They were told to walk across the field and not to turn around, nor to run, otherwise they would be shot by both sides. Not knowing what was going on, Nicholas, Alexandra, Alexei, Olga, Maria, Tatiana and Anastasia walked together across the field to the other gate, where they were welcomed by the soldiers. They were taken to an officer who told them they were to travel by train to Moscow, where Admiral Kolchak would see them. They were safe.

The Civil War ended two weeks later, with Petrograd occupied by White forces and the conclusive liquidation of the Petrograd Soviet. Kolchak announced to the world that Russia was once more at peace with itself, and hat order had been restored. He simultaneously announced to the world that the Romanov family was safe, and that they would return to public life shortly, however he declined to say what their role would be in his new Russia.
 
huh...Shouldn't Germany be feeling the pressure right now as the only Communist nation?

Or is Germany not really that kinda red menace?
 
Germany isn't communist, it's socialist. Anyhoo, me likey, though it makes me sad that Trotsky dies. I always liked the guy. :( Oh, well. Subscribed, I can't wait to see what you've got coming.
 
huh...Shouldn't Germany be feeling the pressure right now as the only Communist nation?

Or is Germany not really that kinda red menace?

Germany's communist to the extent that modern Sweden is, i.e. it's a social democracy with a broadly left-wing political consensus. Admittedly, Germany is going to shift further to the left, but no further left than Britain or France ever did.

And LordProtector...yes it's always a shame killing off Trotsky because he is such an interesting character. But it has to be done-it's one of the statuary obligations of all AH writers that Trotsky must die horribly.
 
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