PROBABLY THE MOST depressing intelligence on the Soviet Bloc to reach the Centre during the 1970s came from Czechoslovakia. An illegal reported after a PROGRESS mission in 1976:
The population of the country hates the Russians. The Czechs cannot even make an objective judgment of the skills of Soviet artists performing on tour in Czechoslovakia. The following is a typical comment: “It may be that the artists are performing well professionally, but because they are Russians I can’t bear to watch them.”75
Lines in plays which were capable of being interpreted as “negative allusions” to the Soviet Union, such as “Love for the enemy is not love” in Gorin’s Till Eulenspiegel, were liable to provoke storms of applause from the audience.76
In view of the popular rejoicings after the Czechoslovak defeat of the Russian team in the 1969 World Ice Hockey Championships in Stockholm, there was considerable anxiety before the 1979 world championships which were held in Prague. A special commission headed by one of the leading internationalists on the CPCz Presidium, Antonín Kapek, tried to ensure good crowd behavior by introducing a variety of security measures, arranging for ticket allocations to Party organizations and conducting what was called “educational work” among both players and spectators. Most of its efforts proved in vain.
Throughout the championships, which opened at the end of April, Brezhnev received regular reports from both the KGB and the Soviet embassy in Prague. They made dismal reading. Irrespective of who the Russian team was playing, the Czechoslovak spectators cheered the other side and shouted anti-Soviet insults. The United States, Canadian and West German teams, by contrast, all received a warm reception. The KGB reported that the Soviet defeat of the Czechoslovak team was “greeted coldly” even by Štrougal and other ministers in the government box. After the match senior CPCz officials avoided members of the Soviet embassy.
The KGB did, however, succeed in preventing one potentially acute embarrassment. After the Soviet match against East Germany, a Russian player who had taken proscribed stimulants was summoned to a drug test. Had he failed the test, as no doubt he would have done, the Soviet victory might have been annulled. The KGB reported proudly to Brezhnev that, “as a result of measures taken by the [Prague] residency,” the player concerned was let off the drug test.77
KGB reports from Prague complained that, after the Soviet team won the world championship, the medal ceremony was conducted in English and German with no Russian translation. At the gala reception which followed, the Russians were coldshouldered. The Soviet flag was ripped from the team. Even the CPCz newspaper Rudé právo paid more attention to the Canadian, Swedish and Finnish teams than to the Soviet world champions.78
The KGB was also outraged at the sometimes visible lack of enthusiasm displayed by Czechoslovak representatives at tedious official celebrations in the Soviet Union. The Centre wrote a damning report on the behavior of Miroslav Vasek, head of a delegation from the Czechoslovak ministry of culture at the Ninth Conference of Ministers of Culture of the Socialist Countries, held in Moscow in July 1978. At the end of this doubtless mind-numbing occasion, Vasek had had the impertinence to leave behind in his room at the Hotel Mir both the souvenir conference folder and a series of probably unreadable volumes solemnly presented to him by the Soviet ministry of culture: Lenin: Revolution and Art, Brezhnev: A Brief Biography, Sixty Jubilee Years: Facts and Figures about the Achievements of Culture and Art in the Soviet Union and Protection of Historical and Cultural Monuments in the USSR. The KGB report insisted that these valuable items had been deliberately “abandoned, not simply forgotten.” The Centre was not prepared for this outrage to be passed over. A full report on it was sent both to Andropov and to the KGB liaison office in Prague.79
For all the KGB’s dissatisfaction with the state of Czechoslovak public opinion and the fractious leadership of the CPCz, the Communist one-party state in Czechoslovakia was under no visible threat at the end of the 1970s. At the beginning of 1977 a series of small dissident groups came together in “Charter 77,” which described itself as “a free, informal, open community of people of different convictions, different faiths and different professions, united by the will to strive, individually and collectively, for the respect of civil and human rights.” Within six months, over 750 courageous individuals had signed the Charter. All endured public vilification and persecution, ranging from attacks on the street to prison sentences and incarceration in psychiatric hospitals. One of the founders, the philosopher Jan Patocka, died after a brutal interrogation by the StB. The power of the StB, the sense of powerlessness induced in the mass of the population by the process of “normalization” and the presence of Soviet troops robbed Charter 77 of any chance of recapturing the mass enthusiasm generated by the promise nine years earlier of “socialism with a human face.”80
Throughout the Soviet Bloc the KGB’s east European clones, urged on by the Centre, were among the moving forces during the decade which followed the Prague Spring in the creation of an intellectually monotone and moribund society. Václav Havel, one of the founders of Charter 77 (and later the first president of the post-Communist Czech Republic), wrote later of this period:
I remember the first half of the 1970s in Czechoslovakia as the time when “history stopped”… History has been replaced by pseudo-history, with its calendar of regularly returning official anniversaries, Party congresses, festivities and mass sport meetings… Totalitarian power has brought “order” in the organic “disorder” of history, thereby numbing it as history. The government, as it were, nationalized time. Hence, time meets with the sad fate of so many other nationalized things: it has begun to wither away.81
The clock which had stopped in eastern Europe with the suppression of the Prague Spring in 1968 was to start again ten years later with the election of a Polish pope.
SEVENTEEN
THE KGB AND WESTERN COMMUNIST PARTIES
The KGB and Western Communist Parties Throughout the Cold War, Communist parties around the world dismissed claims that they were involved in Soviet espionage as crude McCarthyite slander. KGB files, however, give the lie to most of their denials. From the 1920s onwards Western Communists were regularly asked for help in intelligence operations, which they usually considered their fraternal duty to provide. Most leaders of even the largest Western parties equally considered it the fraternal duty of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU) to provide, via the KGB, annual subsidies whose existence they indignantly denied. Knowledge of the KGB connection in the fields of both espionage and finance was the preserve of small and secretive inner circles within each Party leadership.
In the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, the most active assistance in Soviet agent recruitment came from four Communist Parties which were briefly included in coalition governments: the French Parti Communiste Français (PCF), the Italian Partito Comunista Italiano (PCI), the Austrian Kommunistische Partei Österreichs (KPÖ) and the Finnish Suomen Kommunistinen Puolue (SKP).
AS SHOWN IN chapter 9, the PCF assisted after the Liberation in a major penetration of the French intelligence community which continued for at least a quarter of a century. From July 1, 1946 to June 30, 1947 the Paris residency forwarded to the Centre a total of 1,289 French intelligence documents.1 By the early 1950s the KGB’s chief collaborator inside the PCF was Gaston Plissonnier (codenamed LANG), a life-long Soviet loyalist who had established himself by 1970 as second-in-command to the Party leader.2 Though little known to the French public and a poor public speaker with a thick regional accent, Plissonnier was a master in the arcane procedures of “democratic centralism” by which the Party leadership imposed its policies on its members.3 As well as providing inside information on the PCF, he assisted the KGB in identifying potential agents and other intelligence operations.4 During the later 1970s Plissonnier also passed on reports from an agent in the entourage of President Boumedienne of Algeria.5
IN ITALY, AS in France, Communist ministers sat in post-war coalition
governments until the spring of 1947. At the end of 1945 the PCI had 1,760,000 members—twice as many as the PCF. All over Italy, photographs of Stalin, affectionately known as Baffone (“Walrus moustache”), were pasted on factory walls and stuck to machinery. “We were all under the impression,” one of the Communist ministers, Fausto Gallo, later acknowledged, “that the wind was blowing our way.”6 Washington feared that Gallo and his colleagues might be right. The National Security Council concluded in November 1947, “The Italian Government, ideologically inclined towards Western democracy, is weak and is being subjected to continuous attack by a strong Communist Party.” The very first CIA covert action was an operation to aid the Christian Democrats against the Communists in the 1948 general election by laundering over 10 million dollars from captured Axis funds for use in the campaign.7
As in France, the post-war popularity of the Communist Party and the brief period of Communist participation in government created the best opportunities Soviet intelligence was ever to enjoy in Italy for agent penetration. Like JOUR, probably the most important of the post-war French recruits, DARIO, the longest-serving and probably the most valuable Italian agent, was a foreign ministry employee. Born in 1908, and trained as a lawyer, DARIO worked as a journalist and state official in agriculture during the early years of fascist Italy. In 1932 he was recruited as a Soviet agent on an “ideological basis” but, on instructions from his controller, pretended to be a supporter of Mussolini and in 1937 succeeded in enrolling in the Fascist Party. Before the outbreak of war he obtained a job in the foreign ministry, ironically dealing with Soviet and Comintern affairs and succeeded in recruiting three foreign ministry typists (codenamed DARYA, ANNA and MARTA) who regularly supplied him with what the Centre considered “valuable” classified documents. For almost forty years DARIO was instrumental in obtaining a phenomenal amount of classified foreign ministry material.8 His remarkable career as a Soviet agent, however, was temporarily interrupted during the war. In 1942, following the discovery by the Italian police of an illegal GRU residency with which DARIO was in contact, he was arrested and imprisoned, surviving a period at the end of the war in a German concentration camp from which he was liberated by the Red Army.9
Once back in Italy, DARIO reestablished contact with DARYA and MARTA, both of whom agreed once again to give him foreign ministry documents. Probably on Soviet instructions, instead of joining the PCI he became a member of the Italian Socialist Party led by Pietro Nenni, but was expelled in 1946 after he was denounced as a former fascist and threatened with prosecution. At the request of the Rome residency, the Communist leader, Palmiro Togliatti, secretly interceded with Nenni and DARIO was given back his Socialist Party membership. Togliatti’s intervention, however, leaked out and DARIO was publicly identified as having links with the Soviet embassy. He succeeded, none the less, in recruiting two more foreign ministry typists: TOPO (later renamed LEDA), who for fifteen years provided what the Centre considered “valuable documents,” and NIKOL (later INGA), who also supplied “consistently valuable” information. Probably soon after her recruitment under a false flag (not identified in Mitrokhin’s notes), TOPO and DARIO were married.10 In March 1975, forty-three years after DARIO’s recruitment, he and his wife were awarded the Order of the Red Star. He finally retired in May 1979 after one of the longest careers as a Soviet agent in the history of the FCD.11
In the immediate aftermath of the Second World War the Rome residency also achieved a highly successful penetration of the interior ministry, thanks chiefly to a Communist civil servant, codenamed DEMID, who acted as agent-recruiter. On instructions from the residency, DEMID left the Communist Party immediately after his recruitment in 1944. His first major cultivation inside the ministry was QUESTOR, whom he helped to obtain a job in the cipher department. By 1955 the penetration of the Italian interior ministry, begun by DEMID, was considered so important that control of it was handed over to a newly established illegal residency in Rome, headed by Ashot Abgarovch Akopyan, a 40-year-old Armenian from Baku codenamed YEFRAT.12
THE THIRD STATE in which Soviet agent penetration was assisted by Communist participation in post-war coalition governments was Austria. Though placed under joint occupation until 1955 by the Soviet Union, United States, Britain and France (a cumbersome arrangement likened by Karl Renner, the first post-war chancellor, to “four elephants in a rowing boat”), Austria—unlike Germany—was allowed to govern itself. In Renner’s provisional government, formed in April 1945, the Communists were given three ministries, including the key post of Minister of the Interior taken by Franz Honner. In the November 1945 elections, however, the Austrian Communist Party (KPÖ), which had expected to do as well as the French PCF, picked up a mere 5 percent of the vote and was given only the comparatively unimportant ministry of electrification in the new coalition. The KPÖ left government altogether two years later, and its two half-hearted attempts to stage a coup d ’état in 1947 and 1950 failed to gain serious Soviet support.13
Franz Honner used his seven months in 1945 to pack the Austrian federal police force (Bundespolizei) with Communist Party members. Though many were purged or sidelined by Honner’s socialist successor, Oskar Helmer,14 Soviet penetration of the Austrian police, especially its security service (Staatspolizei or Stapo), continued until the 1980s. In an attempt to evade Helmer’s purge, Communists in the police force were instructed to disavow or conceal their Party membership.15 The files noted by Mitrokhin record the recruitment of a series of major KGB police agents: EDUARD in 1945,16 VENTSEYEV in 1946,17 PETER in 1952,18 two further recruits in 1955, ZAK in 197419 and NADEZHDIN in 1978.20 There may well have been others; Mitrokhin’s list is probably not exhaustive. At least some of them took part in operations (one of them codenamed EDELWEISS) to remove and copy top secret documents held in the safe of the head of the Stapo. In 1973 Andropov personally authorized the payment to one of its Stapo agents of a reward of 30,000 Austrian schillings.21
IN THREE OF the four countries of Scandinavia—Denmark, Norway and Finland—Communist ministers also served in post-war coalitions. By far the most influential of the Scandinavian Communist parties was the Finnish SKP.22 Alone among Germany’s eastern allies, Finland was not forced to become part of the Soviet Bloc. At the end of the Second World War, however, Stalin still kept his options open. In 1945, at Soviet insistence, the SKP was given several key positions within the Finnish government, secretly instructed via a “special channel” on their relations with “bourgeois parties,” and held in readiness for a possible coup d’état. That Finland was not in the end forced to become a people’s democracy was probably due chiefly to memories of the Winter War in 1939-40, when the greatly outnumbered Finns had inflicted heavy casualties on the Soviet invaders. Stalin was well aware that the price of Finnish incorporation in the Soviet Bloc might be another blood bath.23 Finland was, however, deprived of 12 percent of its territory, forced to pay enormous reparations (five times those of Italy) and required to sign a non-aggression pact in 1948.
In Finland, as in Austria, the Communists succeeded in 1945 in claiming the key post of minister of the interior. But whereas the Austrian Communist Franz Honner left office after only seven months, his Finnish counterpart, Yrjî Leino, continued in power for three years. Leino’s aim, like Honner’s, was “to deprive the bourgeoisie of one of its most important weapons in supporting reactionary policies, the police force.” By the end of 1945 the security police had been purged and reconstituted as a new force, usually known as Valpo. As Leino later acknowledged, “the new recruits were naturally, as far as possible, Communists.”24 The rapidity of the purges and the inexperience of the new recruits, however, led to a good deal of confusion. According to Leino, “Valpo in SKP hands never became the kind of weapon that had been hoped for… They did not have the skill to use it to advantage in the right way.” Leino himself found it increasingly difficult to cope. By 1947 he was drinking heavily and sometimes absent from his office for days on end. At the end of the
year he was summoned to Moscow, given a severe dressing down by two senior members of the Politburo, instructed to resign from the Finnish government and told to go for a health cure in the Soviet Union. Though Leino refused to tender his resignation, he was dismissed by President Paasikivi in April 1948 on the grounds that he no longer enjoyed the confidence of Parliament. His dismissal brought to an end Communist participation in the Finnish government.25 Leino’s memoirs, completed ten years later, caused such embarrassment in Moscow that, at the insistence of the Soviet ambassador in Helsinki, the whole edition was destroyed on the eve of publication, leaving only a few copies in private circulation.26
THE REMOVAL FROM power by 1948 of all those Western Communist parties which had taken part in post-war coalitions reduced, but did not end, their ability to assist Soviet intelligence penetration of government bureaucracies. By far the biggest disappointment experienced by the Centre at the beginning of the Cold War in its relations with fraternal parties in the West, however, was the dramatic decline in the assistance offered by the Communist Party of the United States (CPUSA). From the mid-1930s to the onset of the Cold War, Communism had been a major force in the American labor movement, a significant influence on the liberal wing of the Democratic Party and a rite of passage for several hundred thousand young radicals. During the Second World War the Party had played an important part in assisting Soviet penetration of the Roosevelt administration, the MANHATTAN project and the intelligence community.27 The onset of the Cold War, however, dealt the CPUSA a blow from which it never fully recovered.
The Sword and the Shield Page 49
