The Myth of the Black Sea Mutiny: Communist Propaganda, Soviet Influence and the Re-Remembering of the Mutiny

The Myth of the Black Sea Mutiny: Communist Propaganda, Soviet Influence and the Re-Remembering... Abstract In April 1919, French sailors serving in the Black Sea as part of Georges Clemenceau’s effort to support White Russian forces in the Russian Civil War mutinied and demanded that the fleet return home. The mutiny was soon suppressed, and military investigators concluded that most of the mutineers joined out of frustration with being deployed abroad instead of demobilized at the end of the Great War. However, a long and regularly repeated propaganda campaign by the French Communists Party recast the mutiny as a proto-revolutionary rising driven by pro-Bolshevik sentiment and sparked by communist propaganda. The campaign helped to reshape the party’s own policies and convince members that party propaganda could sway servicemen to support the party over their officers. This helped party members validate their own ideology even as it helped bring the party under Soviet control. On the morning of 19 April 1919, French sailors on board the battleships France and Jean Bart mutinied against their officers while at anchor at Sevastopol. The mutiny spread to a total of ten ships and the mutineers raised red flags and sang the ‘The Internationale’, the anthem of both the Section française de l’Internationale ouvrière (SFIO) and the Bolsheviks. During the 1920s, the Parti communiste français (PCF) politician, and mutiny veteran, André Marty assured audiences that the mutineers were predominantly communist supporters who were ready to strike down their officers and sail back to France to challenge Georges Clemenceau’s cabinet and bring down the entire bourgeois edifice of the Third Republic. Marty later lamented that this Bolshevik-inspired proto-revolution was stillborn because of weak leadership by the mutineers’ elected delegates, who foolishly negotiated with their officers instead of seizing control of the fleet. Despite Marty’s hyperbole, the Black Sea Mutiny was a minor affair. Yet it was one that set off a long political struggle that initially focused on the mutineers’ fates but grew to include the meaning of mutiny itself. Russian and French communists eventually succeeded in appropriating the pubic face of the mutiny and drowning out the diverse voices of mutineers and their non-communist defenders, including socialists, freemasons and members of the Radical Party and the Ligue des droits de l’homme (LDH), in favour of the communists’ party line. That process created a myth which, over the course of the 1920s and 1930s, replaced the complicated story of an organic mutiny with the constructed drama of a barely failed communist proto-revolution led by the redoubtable hero André Marty, supported by brave allies such as Louis Badina and Charles Tillon. Studying the process of mythmaking reveals the PCF’s role in distorting public memory and illustrates the growing subordination of the PCF to Soviet control. In the 1980s, scholars began to push through the fog of propaganda to reconstruct the events of the mutiny itself, but the process of mythmaking has been neglected. The myth’s creation paralleled and formed part of the process by which the Soviet Union imposed its influence and control over the PCF. In 1919, Bolshevik propaganda, some of it created by French men and women in Ukraine and Russia who formed the Groupe communiste français, set the terms of the debate in France. Communist supporters used their involvement in the broad-based campaign to free the mutineers in order to build support for the creation of the PCF in December 1920. Later, the PCF used André Marty as a symbol of the party’s militant opposition to capitalism and featured the mutiny in its propaganda through the interwar era. Ultimately, the cult of memory that communists built around the mutiny was more important than the actual events. During the 1920s, the PCF’s re-remembering of the mutiny formed part of the process of Sovietization and helped establish the dominance of revolutionary defeatism and insurrectionism within the party. By 1923, the PCF had become the last group in France regularly speaking publicly about the mutiny, which allowed the party to reshape how people remembered it. The Black Sea Mutiny myth fits into a long tradition of political mythmaking in France and among Marxist parties. The Paris Commune of 1871, appeals to which played a tangential role in the Black Sea Mutiny, was especially fertile ground for mythmaking. Both the French Left and Right built myths around the pétroleuses—petrol-bomb throwing women who burned buildings and defended the Commune. For the left they symbolized popular rage against the reactionary government sitting at Versailles, and the right used them to represent the gender and class anarchy unleashed by the Commune. In the 1990s, Gay Gullickson established that the pétroleuses never existed.1 More recently Robert Tombs and John Merriman have debated whether the victorious French Army really massacred tens of thousands of captured communards during Blood Week.2 In addition to the Black Sea Mutiny myth, the PCF developed personality cults around Joseph Stalin and Maurice Thorez in the late 1920s and 1930s, which were themselves a form of mythmaking. The ritual retelling of the origins and course of the October 1917 Revolution also became a myth as the party line slowly obliterated inconvenient facts and nuances and replaced them with a class-based analysis which validated the Bolshevik Party’s role as the vanguard of the proletariat. The Black Sea Mutiny provides an example of how the PCF used mythmaking to gain popular support and how mythmaking changed the party. Because the Black Sea Mutiny has rarely been the primary focus of scholarship, the communists’ appropriation of the munity has been enormously influential. The dominant work on the mutiny, in both French and English, has been André Marty’s La Révolte de la mer Noire. Marty’s book, originally published in 1927, codified the official party line and was widely translated and published in abridged editions. In it Marty, a prominent communist leader between the 1920s and the early 1950s who served a prison term for his part in the mutiny, presented it as a proto-revolutionary movement and an integral part of the Bolshevik Revolution. He also claimed that if not for his arrest, and the timid leaders who emerged at Sevastopol, the mutiny would have sparked a revolution in France. Marty’s narrative remains influential because, despite its flaws, it is the most repeated version of events.3 In their 1981 study Les Mutins de la mer Noire, Jacques Raphael-Leygues and Jean-Luc Barré acknowledged that war weariness and dissatisfaction with their quality of life played a part in the sailors’ mutiny, but they followed Marty by crediting Russian Bolshevik and French Marxist propaganda with inspiring the rising.4 Philippe Masson’s 1982 La Marine française et la mer Noire, which served as the navy’s official history of the Black Sea intervention, remains the most extensive scholarly treatment of the mutiny and began exposing the myth by rebutting Marty’s claims to have led the mutiny. Masson recognized the existence of pro-Bolshevik propaganda in the fleet but focused on sailors’ grievances about their living conditions in the Black Sea and their sense that it was unfair to keep them deployed abroad after the armistice as the main reason they mutinied. Masson noted that Marty’s role in the mutiny had been greatly exaggerated but could not trace the Black Sea Mutiny’s strange afterlife, because he ended his study with the mutineers’ trials in the summer of 1919.5 Christopher Giebel’s biography of the prominent Vietnamese communist Tôn Đức Thắng was innovative in treating the mutiny within a larger study. Giebel argued that Vietnamese communists, particularly Tôn, appropriated and repeatedly reinterpreted the mutiny to link the Vietnamese communist movement to the Bolshevik Revolution.6 This article contends that the French Communist Party engaged in a similar process. Paul Boulland, Claude Pennetier and Rossana Vaccaro provided a vital new scholarly study of Marty’s life in 2005. They presented the Black Sea Mutiny as the defining event in terms of his political career, public image and place in the international communist movement. They showed that Marty had several different personae over his career, but the Black Sea Mutiny profoundly shaped his political life. The authors did not explore how Marty and the PCF constructed the myth, but instead focused on its power as a political weapon.7 In 2014 Geoff Read argued that the PCF used Marty’s aggressive and abrasive political style as the propaganda foundation for a new communist masculinity. The party claimed that it was creating a ‘new man’ whose ‘male attitude’ of combative defiance would challenge the foundations of bourgeois rule.8 David Slavin has shown that the Black Sea Mutiny and André Marty himself were integral to the PCF’s propaganda offensive during the 1925–26 Rif War in Morocco. The party used the Black Sea Mutiny as the centrepiece of its effort to inspire troops to end the war by fraternizing with Riffian forces.9 Similarly, Susan B. Whitney demonstrated that the PCF used the mutiny myth to recruit young people during the 1920s, especially during the Rif War.10 In his 1984 study of the PCF, M. Adereth only briefly discussed the Black Sea Mutiny, while Edward Mortimer’s 1984 book on the PCF imported Marty’s descriptions of the mutiny, including that it was led by him and inspired by Bolshevik propaganda.11 Romain Ducoulombier dedicated a mere two paragraphs of his 2010 study of the origins of the PCF to the Black Sea Mutiny. This article builds on other elements of his study while complicating his assertion that French communists were independent of Soviet control in the early 1920s.12 I The sailors who mutinied in April 1919 were in Sevastopol as part of Georges Clemenceau’s effort to aid the anti-Bolshevik forces in the Russian Civil War. The intervention began haphazardly in November 1918 when French soldiers landed in Ukraine to secure war materiel in ports, manage the withdrawal of Austro-German troops and support anti-Bolshevik forces inside the former Russian Empire. To perform their mission, French forces occupied coastal cities, including Sevastopol, Odesa (Odessa) and Mykolaiv (Nikolaev).13 Occupation forces encountered deeply divided anti-Bolshevik forces and accomplished little beyond temporarily preventing the Bolsheviks from occupying the ports.14 Almost immediately, naval officers reported that, with the war against Germany over, crewmen wanted to go home. They warned that the armistice had undermined officers’ authority and that some sailors’ desire to go home was making them sympathize with the Bolsheviks.15 A February 1919 report claimed that sailors’ interest in communism was merely an expression of their discontent with inadequate winter clothing, disruptions in the supply chain and the irregular delivery of mail from home.16 There were, however, some warnings about pro-Bolshevik propaganda within the fleet. On 21 February 1919, an intelligence report from Constantinople warned that ‘secret Bolshevik groups in Odesa are heavily engaged in efforts to influence the morale of the sailors on Justice’ and that they were exploiting servicemen’s discontent with the government for keeping them in arms after the end of the war.17 The Bolshevik propaganda campaign was greatly strengthened by the help of the small Groupe communiste française in Kyiv. Formed by Marcel Brody, who was operating on instructions from Jacques Sadoul, a former French officer who had joined the Bolsheviks, the group included Suzanne Depollier (later Girault), who eventually became head of the group and, after returning to France, a PCF leader. Another member, Henri Barberet, had narrowly escaped from Entente-controlled Odesa early in 1919. The group focused much of its efforts on propaganda, including organizing some meetings, but especially publishing the French-language newspaper Drapeau Rouge, which circulated clandestinely within French occupation forces in Ukraine and among sailors in the Black Sea fleet. The presence of this group of French men and women made it much easier for the Bolsheviks to produce a steady stream of French-language propaganda. That propaganda would later play a key role in the PCF’s explanation of the mutiny.18 Even as officers warned that their men’s morale was low, the Entente’s commanders in the region, including Admiral Jean-François Amet, moved to consolidate their control over Black Sea ports by occupying coastal cities such as Mykolaiv in January, and Tiraspol and Kherson in February 1919. These new occupations stretched the already over-extended Entente forces, leaving them vulnerable when Bolsheviks under Nikifor Grigoriev attacked Kherson on 7 March 1919.19 During the night of 9–10 March, the overwhelmed garrison fought its way to the docks and, in the morning, escaped under the cover of machinegun and artillery fire provided by Entente warships while Bolshevik troops attacked the evacuation point.20 The battle was a clear defeat for the Entente and convinced Admiral Amet to order his forces to retreat to Sevastopol. Initially Clemenceau and many senior commanders wanted to hold Sevastopol, in part because in February the semi-dreadnaught Mirabeau had run aground there and could not be immediately refloated. The battle of Kherson had revealed that many soldiers were reluctant to fight, and some Greek troops refused to reinforce Kherson. The growing discontent within the occupation forces, and the challenge of refloating Mirabeau, argued strongly for a withdrawal and by 15 April Clemenceau authorized the evacuation of Sevastopol.21 That same day, French troops defending the port encountered Red Army forces, raising fears of a major clash.22 Naval officers in the Black Sea first detected signs of an impending mutiny on the destroyer Protet in Galați, Romania. On 16 April 1919, informants among the crew warned Captain Welfelé that André Marty, the chief engineer, was conspiring with a handful of sailors, including Louis Badina, and Romanian civilians to take over the ship. Welfelé immediately pre-empted the mutiny by arresting Marty and his co-conspirators. Marty, who later emerged in communist propaganda as the leader of the entire series of revolts, spent the entire mutiny locked in a Romanian cell. Badina was more fortunate and, although he was arrested soon after Marty, managed to escape from his cell and found refuge behind Bolshevik lines. He was later rearrested after returning to France while acting as a courier for the Third International.23 Between 19 and 25 April, sailors on at least ten ships mutinied. The mutiny began on 19 April 1919 among the crews of the battleships France and Jean Bart in Sevastopol’s harbour. On 20 April men on board the battleships Justice, Mirabeau and Vergniaud mutinied. The mutineers did not attack their officers, though crew members threatened several and discussed killing the squadron’s admiral. Some mutineers raised red flags and sang revolutionary songs, but they did not kill their officers, open fire on loyalist ships or try to defect to the Bolsheviks.24 There was only one substantial incident of violence during the mutinies. On 21 April, a detachment of Greek troops led by a French officer opened fire on a group of mutineers who had landed and, together with civilians, were marching through the city. The attack wounded several of the marchers, but there were no fatalities and the incident did not lead to a broader conflict.25 The crews elected delegates who presented demands to their commanding officers. The major demands were neither revolutionary nor overtly political. They included immediate shore leave and promises that mutineers would not be punished and that no coal would be loaded on Easter or Easter Monday. The most political demand was that the fleet would soon return to France.26 The fleet’s commanders soon conceded to the demands, though they reneged on the promise not to punish the mutineers.27 The evacuation, which Clemenceau had authorized on 15 April, was carried out between 22 April and 2 May 1919.28 In June a second round of mutinies took place in solidarity with the original mutineers. On 6 June 1919, the day before the Chambre des députés was set to debate the Black Sea Mutiny, sailors on Provence, then anchored in Toulon, raised a red flag to show their support for the Black Sea mutineers. On 8 June sailors rallied against the mutineers’ trials and demanded an amnesty and immediate demobilization.29 Part of the crew of Provence mutinied against its officers two days later and refused to sail to the Black Sea to inspect the French forces, most of which were in Turkey.30 On 26 June Charles Tillon led a mutiny on the cruiser Guichen, which was carrying tirailleurs sénégalais to Itéa, Greece. It is impossible to accurately describe this mutiny because the contemporary records were destroyed, probably during the Allied bombing of Brest during the Second World War, and the only substantive descriptions that remain are based on Tillon’s writings, all of which were done after he joined the PCF and after the party line was well established. His book, La révolte vient de loin, was not published until 1969 and supported Marty’s overall claims about the mutinies. But given the scale of Marty’s deception on other points, Tillon’s narrative is clearly suspect. According to Tillon, the crew were certain that the troops they were transporting to Greece would be moved to Salonika after they landed and then sent further east, possibly against the Red Army. Tillon claimed that the crew presented a signed letter to the captain asking him to return to France and allow them to demobilize. When the captain refused, Tillon organized a meeting of the men, and the officers tried and failed to persuade and intimidate them into obedience. After that the captain crushed the mutiny by using the tirailleurs against the crew. This resort to force marked the revolt on Guichen as the most serious of the 1919 naval mutinies, but the lack of contemporary documentation, and the fact that the tirailleurs did not kill or seriously wound any of the mutineers, casts doubt on Tillon’s claims.31 Initially the mutiny on Guichen was an afterthought in PCF propaganda and Marty barely mentioned the ship in his book. As Tillon emerged as a party leader in the early 1930s, that began to change and the mutiny on Guichen became a more substantial part of the myth. Emphasizing his role as a mutineer and claiming that he and the crew of Guichen mutinied to protect the Bolsheviks helped Tillon mimic Marty by leveraging the Black Sea Myth to advance his own career. The subsequent courts martial convicted seventeen sailors for participating in the Toulon mutiny and sentenced them to between one and eight years in prison.32 By August 1919 one officer (André Marty) and seventy-three enlisted men had been tried for participation in the Black Sea Mutiny. The sentences ranged from twenty years’ hard labour, for Marty, to as a little as a two-year suspended sentence. Charles Tillon received five years’ hard labour.33 At first, officers and ministers took a balanced view of the mutiny. The navy’s report identified communist propaganda as a contributing factor and noted the existence of an effective Bolshevik propaganda network. The report, however, emphasized that the men’s desire to return home following the end of the war was the main cause of the mutiny. The authors repeated pre-mutiny claims that sailors had been angry about the quality of their food and a shortage of winter clothing. Commanders also believed that the crews felt their sacrifices had not been appreciated by the country or the government. The report cited the text of the law of 10 November 1918 as being especially problematic because it declared that ‘the armies and their chiefs have served their country well’ but failed to mention the navy.34 It also noted that the end of the war with Germany had triggered a ‘a veritable crisis of authority’ as men ceased to respect their officers’ authority, who responded with ‘indulgence for those who, under their orders, endured severe fatigue and discipline during the war to achieve the final victory’. This allegedly created a vicious cycle that allowed minor complaints to multiply and led to officers further relaxing discipline in the face of rising discontent, which made it easier to get propaganda onto the ships. Officers noted that on some ships underlying problems were exacerbated by individual events, almost all of which were apolitical.35 For example, the mutiny on France started with a group of a dozen men unhappy at being assigned to coaling duty the next morning, Easter Sunday.36 As the mutiny ended, most of the officers who experienced it believed that class solidarity, support for the Bolsheviks and outside propaganda were not major causes; instead they blamed war weariness and expressed sympathy for their men. Ministre de la Marine (Navy Minister) George Leygues seemed to agree when he wrote of ‘two days of folly, four and a half-years of heroism. I do not approve of the two days of folly, but I cannot forget the four and a half years of heroism.’37 II First the Bolsheviks and then French communists seized on the mutiny as a useful propaganda symbol that they could appropriate and adapt to their own political needs. The Bolsheviks quickly claimed credit for inciting the mutiny. They asserted that the mutineers had acted in class solidarity with Russian workers and in support of broader revolutionary aims. Within days, Nouvelles, a Bolshevik-controlled newspaper circulating in French-occupied Sevastopol, argued that the mutinies were a revolutionary movement that would soon engulf all of France.38 When word leaked out that Marty was pro-Bolshevik, the party folded him into its narrative by claiming that he had organized and led the mutiny because he and most of the mutineers supported the Soviet cause against their own country’s imperialism.39 The Soviet government presented the mutiny as a communist passion play. It cast Marty in the double-role of Vladimir Lenin and Jesus Christ, the vanguard intellectual leading and organizing the proletariat who suffered for their redemption. Bolshevik propaganda claimed that Marty acted to defend the Russian Revolution, which represented the aspirations of all the world’s workers. The communists’ Marty hagiography made clear that in 1871 his father had been a communard who participated in the Narbonne Commune, one of the regional revolts that supported the Paris Commune. This also gave Marty’s father and his regional commune the same relationship to the Paris Commune that the Bolsheviks claimed Marty and the Black Sea Mutiny had to the Bolshevik Revolution—a supporting revolt which formed part of a larger whole. Marty’s communard heritage further positioned him to play the role of revolutionary leader and martyr because it fitted with pre-existing communist propaganda that appropriated the Paris Commune. The lead article in the 18 March 1919 issue of Krasnaya Gazeta, titled ‘The Commune – (1871–1919)’ declared: We, and we only in the whole world, have the right to celebrate the birthday of the first Commune. Only we have remained true to its testaments and have raised the flag of the communards from the dust and unfurled it over the world. This flag was stamped under foot, was mocked, not only by outsiders but by those to whom it belonged … Now the communards have seized power from the hands of the bourgeoisie. They have armed the people. They have violated the sacred right of bourgeois property. They are conducting civil war against White Guards. For the communards – we are they! And in hating us, our ideas, our efforts and our struggle, they hate the communards.40 Russian communists’ official version of mutiny linked it to a series of crimes they claimed French forces had committed against pro-communist civilians in Ukraine, which echoed standard descriptions of the repression of the Paris Commune. These claims included the alleged execution by naval gunfire of 200 women and children at Kherson. The Kherson massacre never took place as the communists described it. However, it evoked the memory of the Paris Commune’s Bloody Week, including the execution of communard fighters against the mur des fédérés, which the French Left has commemorated every year since 1880. The propaganda also claimed that Marty and the rebel sailors were inspired by the pronouncements of Bolshevik leaders, including the People’s Commissar of Foreign Affairs, Gregory Chicherin.41 By tying Marty to the Commune through his father and then recasting him as Lenin, communist propagandists sought to appropriate Western Europe’s tradition of working-class and republican radicalism. The initial wave of Bolshevik propaganda convinced some observers, most of whom had no first-hand experience of the mutiny, that propaganda had converted many French sailors and soldiers to communism and thus was its main cause. In May 1919, American diplomats in Constantinople signalled to Washington DC that ‘the truth is French troops themselves had become demoralized; they were infected with Bolshevism’.42 The mutiny’s public image in France was initially dominated by the campaign to win amnesty for the mutineers, which emphasized their suffering and claimed that they were being punished by an unfair military justice system. However, as French and Russian communists appropriated the mutiny, the Russians imposed their party line on the French. When the communists first made Marty the face of the mutiny and the focal point of pro-amnesty propaganda they cast him as Christ, the sacrificial victim who suffered for others’ salvation. Even his arrest strengthened the connection because the party line stressed that he had been betrayed by a member of Protet’s crew. So, like Christ, Marty was betrayed by one of the people he sought to save and although he had not been literally crucified, he, like Alfred Dreyfus before him, was unjustly suffering in a military prison. However, French communists slowly shifted towards Moscow’s official line by presenting the mutiny as a proto-revolution which could, and should have, become violent. The amnesty movement fitted into a long-term, broad-based campaign to reform the military justice system which achieved a partial success in 1928. It was also part of a reaction against the brutality of the war in France and Britain. France had a well-established left-wing tradition of accusing courts martial of being politically biased and corrupted by officers who imposed excessive penalties. During the war Socialists, some Radicals and the LDH campaigned against unjust sentences. Most of the groups who supported convicted soldiers and sailors during the war also rallied to help the mutineers in 1919.43 In the summer of 1919 the SFIO, the LDH, many freemasons and some veterans’ groups sprang to the mutineers’ defence. When Marty wrote to deputies seeking their support, he targeted SFIO members with calls for working-class and revolutionary solidarity, but he also wrote to freemasons, some of whom were SFIO members, including the SFIO députés Émile Goude and Ernest Lafont. Both Goude and Lafont, who was also an active member of the LDH, publicly supported Marty in the summer of 1919. Other early supporters included leadings Radicals such as Édouard Herriot and Édouard Daladier.44 In the 5 June 1919 issue of Humanité, which at that time was the SFIO’s flagship journal, a front-page article by the SFIO député Marcel Cachin, who later became a Stalinist member of the PCF, attacked the Clemenceau government for its repression of the mutinies and declared that the SFIO supported the sailors without any reservation or hesitation. He claimed that the mutineers had not committed a crime, because they had remained ‘remained faithful to the history of our Revolution, to the traditions of our people’ and that the real blame lay with the ‘absurd (yes absurd!) discipline imposed by too many Jesuit officers’.45 The next day Cachin interpolated the government in defence of the mutineers.46 During the summer of 1919, Cachin, like many other Socialists in France, was experiencing a political transformation. During the war he had been a supporter of the war effort and had denounced the Bolsheviks as German stooges in 1918, but in December 1920 he became a founding leader of the French Communist Party when he supported the SFIO joining the Third International. In the 1920s he backed imposing Soviet discipline on the PCF and then emerged as a leading Stalinist. In the summer of 1919 he was in the process of moving to the left and his defence of the Black Sea mutineers helped establish his proto-communist credentials. Early June witnessed a major strike wave in France, which was unrelated to the Black Sea Mutiny but the SFIO and the unions used the mutineers to encourage solidarity among workers. In addition to their economic demands, many striking unions sent fraternal greetings to the ‘heroic sailors of the Black Sea fleet and to the soldiers who refuse to become murderers of the working class’. They went on to demand that the government grant a general amnesty and withdraw all forces sent against the Russian and Hungarian revolutions. The unions encouraged soldiers to disobey orders to break the attempted general strike or to use force against strikers.47 On 13 June 1919, Cachin again criticized the government’s handling of the mutiny. This time he described the mutiny as a ‘revolutionary gesture’ and insisted the mutineers were striking against an attempt to illegally make war against the Bolsheviks. He concluded his interpolation by linking the Bolshevik cause with the mutineers, saying that ‘our workers, great and noble idealists, see with the greatest indignation the policy of reaction the minister of foreign affairs is perpetrating in Russia . . . do not punish what you call the mutinies of Sevastopol and Odesa’.48 Many of the mutineers’ supporters were associated with several different traditions or groups at the same time, which ultimately helped pro-communists within the SFIO use the amnesty movement to expand their support. Yvonne Sadoul, Jacques Sadoul’s wife, who was also a communist, and Henri Barbusse organized the Comité de défense des marins which campaigned for an amnesty for the mutineers. Yvonne Sadoul was a member of the Comité de la III Internationale and a regional officer of the SFIO in Poitiers. The Comité de défense des marins played a central role in the amnesty campaign by disseminating stories and letters to newspapers throughout France and lobbying political leaders and journalists to support the Black Sea mutineers. Yvonne Sadoul’s multiple roles allowed her to use the campaign to defend the mutineers as a recruiting tool for the growing pro-communist movement within the SFIO.49 The strong republican and reformist tradition among French freemasons encouraged them to join the campaign to protect the mutineers and, despite the Bolsheviks’ hostility to the group, a number of early PCF leaders were masons, which provided more opportunities for the party to use the amnesty campaign to build its support. The masonic example also showed the perils of co-membership. In 1922 the Comintern declared masonic membership incompatible with party membership and several party leaders had to reapply for membership after being automatically expelled.50 Many groups campaigned to free the mutineers, but after the communist takeover of the SFIO and its transformation into the PCF during the December 1920 party congress in Tours, and the subsequent refounding of the SFIO, the PCF worked hard to appropriate the mutiny as its special cause. This ultimately reinforced the communists’ claim to have been responsible for the Black Sea Mutiny. The party produced posters and pamphlets calling for the release of all the Black Sea mutineers and often gave Marty central billing, while sometimes identifying Badina as his co-conspirator. During the early 1920s Tillon was largely absent from the main narrative of the mutiny and only emerged as a major part of the myth later when he became an important leader in the party. Communist newspapers published editorials demanding the mutineers’ freedom and party meetings often involved calls for their immediate release. The PCF’s campaigns helped to associate the PCF with the mutiny in the public memory.51 This was part of a concerted effort by the communists to undermine the refounded SFIO by winning over the party’s voters and activists.52 Identifying Marty as a communist and the leader of the mutiny allowed the PCF to claim credit for the mutiny as part of its effort to assert its primacy in the amnesty campaign. It also let the party use Marty and the mutiny as a tie connecting French communists directly to the Bolshevik revolution, a process the Soviets encouraged. At the time of his arrest, Marty’s politics were amorphous and although he signalled his support for the Bolshevik cause he did not join any French party while he was in prison. His politics hovered between communism and anarchism, but the SFIO’s leaders hoped to win him over to their cause and competed with the PCF to be seen by voters as his principal champion.53 Their competition sometimes forced the SFIO and the PCF to cooperate on a tactical level. In 1921 Communists and Socialists in the Charonne quarter of Paris’s 20th Arrondissement succeeded in electing Marty as a municipal counsellor in a landslide (4574 vs. 1643). The parties focused their joint campaign on the hope that an electoral victory would increase pressure on the government to amnesty Marty and the other mutineers. The PCFs annual report in December 1921 hailed the election as a success for the party, but the SFIO’s participation showed that the two parties were still actively competing for Marty’s support and, more importantly, to be seen by working-class voters as the leading pro-mutineer party in France.54 III In 1922 the French government released all the mutineers, save Marty who was freed in 1923 as part of a general amnesty for men convicted of wartime offences. Masson argued that the Poincaré cabinet passed the amnesty as part of a deal with opposition legislators who promised to stop attacking wartime summary executions in exchange for a general amnesty. Yet he also made clear that the campaign on behalf of the mutineers had already pressured the government into a series of smaller-scale amnesties and commutations starting in 1920. Masson quoted Admiral Guépratte saying that Marty was released because ‘only the liberation of the condemned man will put an end to the legend of the heroes of the Black Sea and calm these “irritating passions.”‘55 However, the amnesties did nothing to reduce the PCF’s use of Marty and the munity in its propaganda and ultimately helped it appropriate the mutiny as its own symbol. Before the amnesty many groups were calling for the sailors to be released, but afterwards only the PCF regularly discussed the mutiny, which allowed its party line to go largely unchallenged. The PCF definitively won its battle to appropriate the mutiny’s mantle when Marty joined the party on 23 September 1923.56 The PCF was thus unopposed when it continued to argue that the mutiny was a proto-revolution and blamed its failure to spark a revolution in France on weak-willed non-communist leaders who failed to seize the opportunity to take control of their ships and sail back to France to spread the revolution. This reflected the Third International’s growing emphasis on revolutionary activity and echoed the PCF’s overall attacks against the SFIO for being timid and reformist instead of authentically committed to a working-class revolution. In 1923 the Soviet government published its account of the mutiny and gave Marty central billing. It claimed that he was the main organizer and had the support of ‘the best and most conscientious part of the crew’. The sailors were allegedly revolting because they ‘could not accept the idea of being forced to raise their hands against their brothers who had revolted against their oppressors’. This narrative assigned to Louis Badina, a petty officer on Protet, the role of Marty’s ‘devoted comrade, capably of seconding him as any time’. It then claimed that their determination to act was reinforced when they read Chicherin’s denunciation of the murder of 200 women and children who he declared had been killed by French naval gunfire in Kherson. It claimed that Marty planned to take control of Protet, sail to Sevastopol, raise the rest of the fleet and then sail to Marseille to ‘stop the criminal intervention’ in Russia. The Soviet propagandists credited him with triggering the mutiny in the rest of the fleet, asserting that Marty and Badina’s arrest ‘served as the signal for the revolution onboard all the other ships’.57 After his release Marty officially joined the PCF, entered politics and won election to the Chambre des députés on the PCF’s list in Seine-et-Oise in May 1924. Marty’s address to a May Day 1924 rally in Paris reflected the emerging, but incomplete, subordination of the PCF’s rhetoric to the Soviets’ party line. He took credit for the mutiny, claimed it was a self-consciously pro-Bolshevik rising, but still portrayed the mutineers as peaceful victims. He described the men arrested for challenging military authorities as ‘war victims’ and urged workers to unite to defend all soldiers and sailors against their officers just as they had united to win Marty’s own freedom.58 The beginning of the Rif War in Morocco in 1925 highlighted divisions within the PCF. Initially party leaders were reluctant to support Abd el-Krim’s Rif Republic against France. However, after pressure from Moscow the party reversed its position and called on French conscripts to mutiny and fraternize with Riffian forces or French protestors. Jacques Doriot, Maurice Thorez and Marty took advantage of the orders from Moscow and launched a sustained attack on the SFIO-supported Cartel des Gauches government overseeing the war. The propaganda relied heavily on direct and indirect invocations of the Black Sea Mutiny that consolidated the myth that it had been a revolutionary moment. This campaign helped rewrite how both the French public and members of the PCF remembered the events. Although the mutiny had involved little fraternization, PCF propagandists, including Marty himself, turned it into a didactic myth by citing it as an example for French troops in Morocco to emulate. The repetition of their message reinforced readers’ association of Marty and communism with the Black Sea Mutiny and slowly overwrote earlier memories of the mutiny. The PCF’s propaganda campaign included fliers, posters, newspaper stories and meetings all over France. By falsely citing the Black Sea Mutiny as an example of successful fraternization the propaganda fortified the myth that fraternization was an effective revolutionary tactic while further elevating it as an important trope in working-class politics. In addition, the rewriting of the memory of the Black Sea Mutiny was largely unopposed because the mutiny was secondary to the propaganda’s goal, thus there was little incentive for anybody to rebut the PCF version. Doriot and Marty weaponized the mutiny as a revolutionary catalyst, which required Marty to further embrace Moscow’s construction of the mutiny as an act of anti-capitalist violence instead of self-defence. Starting in May 1925, and continuing throughout the summer, the PCF-controlled paper La Caserne, which was aimed as soldiers, called on French troops to fraternize with the Riffians.59 On 25 May Doriot predicted it would be a long and bloody war unless soldiers and sailors forced an end to it through fraternization.60 On 3 June Marty cited his own experiences to assure an audience in Brest that ‘as I did in Russia’ propaganda could change the course of the Rif War. On 11 June 1925 Doriot made the implied comparison to the Black Sea Mutiny explicit when he told a public meeting in Paris that the best way to stop the war was for soldiers to follow the example of the Black Sea sailors by rejecting their officers’ authority. He then claimed that Spanish troops had previously fraternized with the Riffians, which had helped roll-back Spanish imperialism in northern Morocco.61 French officers would have recognized this as a reference to the 1921 Battle of Annual, in which Riffians killed between 10,000 and 13,000 Spanish troops, many after they had surrendered.62 Because the socialist and trades union movements had long claimed that fraternization could stop strike breakers and end wars, the central place communists gave fraternization in the Black Sea Mutiny myth made the two myths mutually reinforcing. Thus, the false claim that fraternization precipitated the mutiny made the rest of the mutiny myth more believable to people in France, and the fact that a mutiny clearly happened was taken as proof that fraternization was an effective anti-war tactic. Calls for fraternization and references to the Black Sea Mutiny were not limited to Paris. In July 1925 the Dépêche de Brest explicitly urged soldiers and sailors in Morocco to emulate the Black Sea mutineers by fraternizing with the Riffians to strike a blow against the government’s imperialist policies.63 When a few sailors on Courbet mutinied in July 1925, the PCF framed the event in terms of the party’s Black Sea Mutiny mythology. On 30 July Humanité, which came under PCF control after the Tours Congress in December 1920, praised rail workers for striking against the navy’s attempts to move arrested mutineers to Paris by train. It proudly declared that the PCF and the unions would support the Courbet mutineers defence of Moroccans just as they had the Black Sea mutineers defence of Russian workers.64 The same issue called on French and Riffian forces to unite against imperialism, declaring ‘Against European imperialism: French soldiers and Riffians: FRATERNISE!’65 On 24 August Humanité promised that the PCF would never cease to protect the mutineers, like it kept solidarity with ‘the glorious sailors of the Black Sea’.66 Even naval officers were affected by the PCF propaganda. Naval counter-intelligence officers’ ‘dossier Courbet’ directly linked the munity to communist propaganda; forty per cent of the newspaper clippings saved in the dossier explicitly invoked the Black Sea Mutiny, which suggests that both journalists and the counter-intelligence officers made the connection.67 On 7 August Humanité published an appeal that it credited to a group of ‘marins révolutionnaires’ serving in the Mediterranean. They praised the Courbet mutineers and called on more sailors to mutiny and fraternize with the Riffians, explaining that ‘the example of our Black Sea veterans would not be without value’.68 Another piece on 25 September quoted an anonymous quartermaster in Le Havre comparing the Courbet mutineers to their ‘glorious predecessors’ of the Black Sea. The article called for revolutionary sailors to organize solidarity strikes in favour of the mutineers.69 In October 1925 members of the PCF’s Action Committee were arrested and charged with inciting soldiers to disobedience by calling on them to fraternize with Riffian forces in propaganda that often invoked the Black Sea mutineers.70 In 1927 the PCF published the first edition of La Révolte de la mer Noire, Marty’s account of the mutiny, in which he remained steadfastly loyal to the official Comintern line laid out in the Soviet Union’s 1923 account of the events. Marty claimed that the Sevastopol mutiny was the culmination of a wave of revolts that broke the will of French leaders to carry on the war against the Soviets. He emphasized the importance of fraternization between Russian workers and French soldiers and sailors in making the mutiny happen. By expanding the Black Sea Mutiny into a months-long escalating conflict Marty magnified its importance and placed the Bolshevik Party at the centre of his narrative. Ironically, because Marty was present for almost none of the events he described in his book, it was based on, often undisclosed, third-party sources.71 By putting the text in Marty’s name, the PCF further solidified his claim to have led the revolt and his position as a living symbol of the mutiny. Marty began his story with the November 1918 armistice that ended the First World War, but instead of focusing on soldiers’ and sailors’ war weariness he highlighted politics. Insurrectionary and pacifist tropes coexisted in Marty’s narrative when he described the arrival of occupation forces, but the insurrectionary position became dominant when he addressed his aborted mutiny on Protet and the mutinies in Sevastopol. He claimed that soldiers of the 58th Infantry Regiment refused to leave for Russia on 6 February 1919 and that they responded to the divisional commander’s pleas to obey orders by crying ‘war has not been declared on Russia!’72 According to Marty, Bolshevik propaganda convinced French forces in Crimea and other parts of Ukraine to resist their officers’ orders. He referenced person-to-person contact, including one group that posed as a choir, but also posters imploring servicemen ‘do not fire on our Russian brothers’ and newspapers smuggled on board ships by being hidden inside envelopes. Overall the effect was a ‘violent propaganda’ which challenged the legitimacy of the operation.73 He mobilized some of that propaganda to present a litany of atrocities he alleged French forces had committed against civilians in the region. While discussing Grigoriev’s attack on Kherson, Marty applauded soldiers of the 176th Infantry Regiment for fraternizing with Bolshevik workers instead of executing them, and claimed that they sang revolutionary songs while releasing captured Bolsheviks.74 Marty reported that ‘in Ukraine, Crimea, and Bessarabia, Bolsheviks explained to the solders the reasons that they suffered worse than the most wretched of men: the war had begun again!’ He also claimed that ‘the call for occupation troops to fraternize with workers was mainly aimed at the French troops who were the occupation’s backbone’.75 Marty extended the distinctively communist argument that the sailors made a mistake by being non-violent in April 1919. Whereas the mutineers’ defenders in 1919 had praised their peaceful tactics, Marty argued that their leaders erred because if they had attacked their officers and seized control of their ships they could have sailed home to France and provided the necessary spark to start a revolution. As Marty put it, ‘the moment for action had come. The opportunity was missed.’76 He condemned the mutineers’ elected representatives and assured his readers that the mutineers wanted to throw off their officers’ authority and open fire on the Greek battleship Kilkis, but the delegates negotiated with Admiral Amet instead of unleashing a revolution.77 Given that the party line claimed that Marty was the leader of the revolt, it is not surprising that he presented himself as the man who could have turned the mutiny into a revolution. As well as excoriating the sailors’ representatives for their weakness Marty lamented that his arrest prevented him from personally taking control of events in Sevastopol. Although he could not have had foreknowledge of the unplanned mutinies, he claimed that if he had successfully taken over Protet he would have sailed for Sevastopol and turned the mutiny into a revolution. As he wrote: ‘imagine, if not for an accident [his arrest], that afternoon or the next day, Protet would have arrived ready for battle, knowing what we wanted, red flag flying, officers locked up. The entire squadron would have followed’ (emphasis in original).78 He went on to claim that the arrival of the revolutionary fleet back in France would have pushed the country over the edge into a revolution. Marty presented Badina as a loyal ally and quoted his trial in 1921, after the Bolshevik party line had already been laid down, as proof of his claims. At his trial Badina told the court that ‘we would have returned to Marseille, a proletarian centre that the government could not have defended against a landing (unlike the military ports) and where our arrival could help the working class to start a victorious insurrection’.79 Although Marty’s story of the Black Sea Mutiny was little more than a repackaging of the—Soviet-created—PCF party line, years of communist propaganda that clearly linked him to the revolt in the public imagination gave his account of events enormous power. Marty’s narrative dominated the public discourse about the Black Sea Mutiny because he and his PCF allies were the main people talking about it in public. That, in turn, shaped how military and political leaders, most of whom had never seen the official reports from 1919, viewed the mutiny and its origins. For the rest of his political career Marty evoked the Black Sea Mutiny. In February 1928 he was sentenced to two years in prison for writing articles that called on soldiers to disobey orders and mutiny against their officers.80 In 1930 he urged soldiers to emulate the soldiers and sailors of 1919 by fraternizing with Soviet troops and civilians if the French Army tried to launch its alleged plan to invade the Soviet Union.81 During the Spanish Civil War he appealed, with little success, to soldiers in Franco’s army to fraternize with Republican forces and civilians.82 Each time Marty called for fraternization he reinforced the public’s belief that communist propaganda had led previous sailors and soldiers to mutiny against their officers and fraternize with their erstwhile enemy. By the late 1920s the communists had firmly established the link between the Black Sea mutineers and fraternization. In February 1927 the PCF-aligned Association républicaine des anciens combattants called on conscripts to emulate the ‘soldiers and sailors of the Black Sea’ by fraternizing with strikers or opposing soldiers.83 In November 1928 Rail Électrique, a PCF-controlled journal in Juvisy aimed at railway workers, published a warning that the French Army was preparing to attack the Soviet Union. It predicted that ‘today the capitalists are preparing a new war against the Soviet Union. But, the workers will remember the example of the Black Sea sailors and, if they are armed to attack Soviet Russia, they will use the arms TO DEFEND IT.’84 The editorial’s rhetoric encapsulated the ascendancy of the Black Sea myth, Soviet influence and the doctrine of revolutionary defeatism within the PCF. IV The Black Sea Mutiny began as an important but local mutiny among French sailors whose fleet was already preparing to abandon Sevastopol, but communist propagandists slowly reworked it into a symbol of the appeal of communist ideas in post-First World War France. At first French officers and communists presented contradictory explanations of the mutiny; French officers insisted the mutiny had been principally inspired by war weariness and a desire to return home, while French and Russian communists asserted that the mutiny was an overtly pro-Bolshevik political and revolutionary act. In 1919 the opposing narratives interacted in courts martial, military inquiries and internal government debates, but in public the communists’ narrative had a distinct advantage. The military reports were distributed within the army and navy and were available to some political leaders, but the communists presented and regularly repeated their narrative directly to the public for years. Each time the PCF called for the government to amnesty André Marty and the other mutineers it further strengthened the public identification of the party and communism with the mutiny. The best contemporary evidence strongly supported the navy’s narrative, yet it soon faded from public and official view while the communists continued to repeat their version of the mutiny. Soon, all but a handful of officers and politicians were dependent, either directly or indirectly, on PCF propaganda for their knowledge of the mutiny. The PCF’s reconstruction of the Black Sea Mutiny skewed its own members’ memories of the events and was part of the process of subordinating the party to Soviet control. During the early 1920s the PCF’s initial narrative gave way to Moscow’s party line, and during the Rif War supporters of Sovietization within the PCF used the Black Sea myth to superimpose revolutionary defeatism, via fraternization, as a central tenet of the PCF’s ideology. Calls for soldiers to fraternize with workers and foreign troops were nothing new, but by reinterpreting the Black Sea Mutiny as a proto-revolution fuelled by communist ideas, Bolshevik propaganda and fraternization, the PCF manufactured evidence that appeared to validate its claim that its propaganda could get troops to fraternize with domestic protestors and foreign soldiers and provoke a working-class revolution. This recast fraternization as a step in a violent revolution instead of as a pacifist or anti-militarist tactic. The party’s retelling of the Black Sea Mutiny was ultimately more important than the mutiny itself because it became the dominant narrative about the mutiny, inside and outside the PCF. The myth fed the hopes of party members and fears of anti-communists in equal measure. He would like to thank Thomas Kselman for his advice and support when he was researching this article and his colleague Albert Hamscher for encouraging him to write it. Finally, he is grateful to Suzanne Orr, Georges Vidal and the reviewers for their advice on this project. The research for this article was supported by an Edward Sorin Postdoctoral Fellowship from the University of Notre Dame. Footnotes 1 G. Gullickson, Unruly Women of Paris (Ithaca, NY, 1996). 2 R. Tombs, Paris, bivouac des révolutions. La Commune de 1871 (Paris, 2014); J. Merriman, Massacre: The Life and Death of the Paris Commune of 1871 (New Haven, 2014). 3 A. Marty, La Révolte de la mer Noire (Pantin, 1999); P. Boulland, C. Pennetier and R. Vaccaro (eds), André Marty: l’homme, l’affaire, l’archive (Paris, 2005), 18. Although WorldCat shows there was a 1925 edition, all of the libraries it lists actually have later editions. In addition, Marty’s biographers say it was first published in 1927. 4 J. Raphael-Leygues and J.-L. Barré, Les Mutins de la mer Noire (Paris, 1981), 96. 5 P. Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire (1918–1919) (Paris, 1982). 6 C. Giebel, Imagined Ancestries of Vietnamese Communism (Seattle, 2004). 7 Boulland et al. André Marty, 28. 8 G. Read, The Republic of Men (Baton Rouge, LA, 2014), 66–7. 9 D. Slavin, ‘The French Left and the Rif War, 1924–1925’, J. Contemp. Hist. 26 (1991), 5–32. 10 S. Whitney, Mobilizing Youth: Communists and Catholics in Interwar France (Durham, NC, 2009), 41. 11 M. Adereth, The French Communist Party: A Critical History (1920–84) (Manchester, 1984), 18; E. Mortimer, The Rise of the French Communist Party, 1920–1947 (London, 1984), 37–8. 12 R. Ducoulombier, Camarades!: La naissance du parti communiste en France (Paris, 2010), 170–1. 13 This article uses Ukrainian instead of Russian spellings for place names in Ukraine, except for Sevastopol, because it is strongly engrained in the Black Sea Mutiny literature and the Ukrainian spelling Sevastopil remains little known among Anglophone audiences. 14 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 63–78, 83–93. 15 S[ervice] H[istorique de la] D[éfense]-D[épartement de la] M[arine], SS ED 30, ‘Crisis of Authority’; Report, 12 Feb. 1919. 16 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, Report 12 Feb. 1919. 17 SHD-DM, 1 BB7 231, No. 365, 21 Feb. 1919. 18 M. Brody, Les groupes communistes français de Russie, 1918–1921 (Paris, 1988), 47–53. 19 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 109–119. 20 Ibid., 170–3. 21 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 217–23. 22 Ibid., 223. 23 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Manifestations d’indiscipline’, 28 Apr. 1919. 24 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Manifestations d’indiscipline’, 28 Apr. 1919. 25 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 264. 26 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, Les marines se sont plaints aux autorités, undated. 27 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Manifestations d’indiscipline’, 28 Apr. 1919. 28 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 236–43. 29 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, Folder Toulon, Report, 8 June 1919; ‘Cuirassé Provence Jugement rendu par un conseil de guerre assemblé à bord du Cuirassé Provence en rade de Toulon.’ 30 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, Folder Toulon, Report, 8 June 1919; ‘Cuirassé Provence Jugement rendu par un conseil de guerre assemblé à bord du Cuirassé Provence en rade de Toulon.’ 31 C. Tillon, La révolte vient de loin (Paris, 1969); Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 497–503. 32 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, Folder Toulon, Report, 8 June 1919; ‘Cuirassé Provence Jugement rendu par un conseil de guerre assemblé à bord du Cuirassé Provence en rade de Toulon.’ 33 SHD-DM, SS ED 30 ‘Relevé des informations terminées en cours ou à ouvrir’, August 1919. 34 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Crise de l’autorité.’ 35 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Crise de l’autorité.’ 36 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Manifestations d’indiscipline’, 28 Apr. 1919. 37 ‘Note manuscrite de Georges Leygues’, in Raphael-Leygues and Barré, Mutins de la mer noir, image 28 between pp. 64 and 65. 38 SHD-DM, 1 BB7 232 No. 688, ‘Propaganda bolchéviste.’ 39 Raphael-Leygues and Barré, Mutins de la mer Noire, 60–5; A[rchives] N[ationales], F 7 13190, ‘Paix a l’URSS et AMNISTIE’; AN, F 7 12176, Dépêche de Brest (Brest). 40 U[niversity of] C[hicago] S[pecial] C[ollections], Samuel N. Harper Papers, Series VIII, Box 67, Folder 145 Propaganda. Translation of Krasnaya Gazeta, 18 March 1919. 41 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Documents Russe l’Offensif Révolutionnaire de Marty et Badina.’ 42 UCSC, Series IV, Box 54, Untitled notes on the event at Odessa, May 1919. 43 O. Roynette, ‘Les conseils de guerre en temps de paix entre réforme et suppression (1898–1928)’, Vingtième Siècle. Revue d’histoire, No. 73 (January–March 2002), 51–66. 44 P. Boulland et al. (eds), André Marty, 161–2; Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 536. 45 ‘Pour nos petits Marins de la Mer Noire’, Humanité (Paris), 5 June 1919, 1. 46 ‘Séance de l’après-midi’, Humanité (Paris). 6 June 1919, 2. 47 ‘L’Agitation ouvrière’, Humanité (Paris). 7 June 1919, 4. 48 Compte rendu de la séance du 13 Juin 1919 à la Chambre des députés reproduced in Raphael-Leygues and Barré, Mutins de la mer noire, 191, 202 49 Ducoulombier, Camarades!, 168–71. 50 Jane Degras (ed.), The Communist International 1919–1943 Documents, vol. 1, 1919–1922, (London, 1955), 403–5. 51 Raphael-Leygues and Barré, Mutins de la mer noire, 60–5; AN F 7 13190. ‘Paix a l’URSS et AMNISTIE’; AN F 7 12176. Dépêche de Brest (Brest). 52 J. Colton, Léon Blum: Humanist in Politics (New York, 1966), 55–7. 53 Romain Ducoulombier, Régénérer le socialisme: ascétisme révolutionnaire et homme nouveau prolétarien au cœur du premier communisme français (1917–1924) (Paris, Science Po), Diss. 2002, 493–495. 54 Parti communiste. Congrès national. ‘Un an d’action communiste: rapport du secrétariat général présenté au 19e congrès national (1er congrès du parti communiste)’, 39. 55 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 535–6. 56 Ibid., 369–70. 57 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Documents Russe l’Offensif Révolutionnaire de Marty et Badina.’ 58 ‘Douze mille travailleurs acclament en Marty l’Amnistie générale la Révolution russe et le Communisme’ Humanité (Paris), 1 May 1924, 1. 59 AN, F 7 13174, Le Caserne clippings May–Aug. 1925. 60 AN, F 7 13171, Report, 25 May 1925. 61 AN, F 7 13171, Report 3 June 1925; Report, 11 June 1925. 62 V. Courcelle-Labrousse and N. Marmié, La Guerre du Rif: Maroc 1921–1926 (Paris, 2008), 74. 63 AN, F 7 13176, Dépêche de Brest. 64 SHD-DM, 2 BB 81, Humanité, 30 July 1925. 65 AN, F 7 13415, Humanité, 30 July 1925. 66 SHD-DM, 2 BB 81, Humanité, 24 Aug. 1925. 67 SHD-DM, 2 BB 81, ‘Dossier Courbet’. 68 SHD-DM, 2 BB 81, Humanité, 8 Aug.1925. 69 SHD-DM, 2 BB 81, Humanité, 6 Sept. 1925. 70 AN, F 7 12919, Le Temps, 12, Oct. 1925. 71 Marty, La Révolte de la mer Noire. 72 Ibid., 45. 73 Ibid., 114–16. 74 Ibid., 57–9. 75 Ibid., 42 76 Ibid., 141. 77 Ibid., 140–1. 78 Ibid., 146. 79 Ibid., 96. 80 AN, F 13099, 11 Feb. 1928. 81 AN. F 7 13190, ‘Paix a l’URSS et AMNISTIE’, November 1930. 82 P. Robrieux, Histoire intérieure du Parti communiste français, Tome 4 (Paris, 1984), 415–20. 83 AN, F 7 12969, Monthly Report, Feb. 1927. 84 AN, F 7 13144, Report, 19 Dec. 1928. © The Author(s) 2018. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Society for the Study of French History. All rights reserved. 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The Myth of the Black Sea Mutiny: Communist Propaganda, Soviet Influence and the Re-Remembering of the Mutiny

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Abstract

Abstract In April 1919, French sailors serving in the Black Sea as part of Georges Clemenceau’s effort to support White Russian forces in the Russian Civil War mutinied and demanded that the fleet return home. The mutiny was soon suppressed, and military investigators concluded that most of the mutineers joined out of frustration with being deployed abroad instead of demobilized at the end of the Great War. However, a long and regularly repeated propaganda campaign by the French Communists Party recast the mutiny as a proto-revolutionary rising driven by pro-Bolshevik sentiment and sparked by communist propaganda. The campaign helped to reshape the party’s own policies and convince members that party propaganda could sway servicemen to support the party over their officers. This helped party members validate their own ideology even as it helped bring the party under Soviet control. On the morning of 19 April 1919, French sailors on board the battleships France and Jean Bart mutinied against their officers while at anchor at Sevastopol. The mutiny spread to a total of ten ships and the mutineers raised red flags and sang the ‘The Internationale’, the anthem of both the Section française de l’Internationale ouvrière (SFIO) and the Bolsheviks. During the 1920s, the Parti communiste français (PCF) politician, and mutiny veteran, André Marty assured audiences that the mutineers were predominantly communist supporters who were ready to strike down their officers and sail back to France to challenge Georges Clemenceau’s cabinet and bring down the entire bourgeois edifice of the Third Republic. Marty later lamented that this Bolshevik-inspired proto-revolution was stillborn because of weak leadership by the mutineers’ elected delegates, who foolishly negotiated with their officers instead of seizing control of the fleet. Despite Marty’s hyperbole, the Black Sea Mutiny was a minor affair. Yet it was one that set off a long political struggle that initially focused on the mutineers’ fates but grew to include the meaning of mutiny itself. Russian and French communists eventually succeeded in appropriating the pubic face of the mutiny and drowning out the diverse voices of mutineers and their non-communist defenders, including socialists, freemasons and members of the Radical Party and the Ligue des droits de l’homme (LDH), in favour of the communists’ party line. That process created a myth which, over the course of the 1920s and 1930s, replaced the complicated story of an organic mutiny with the constructed drama of a barely failed communist proto-revolution led by the redoubtable hero André Marty, supported by brave allies such as Louis Badina and Charles Tillon. Studying the process of mythmaking reveals the PCF’s role in distorting public memory and illustrates the growing subordination of the PCF to Soviet control. In the 1980s, scholars began to push through the fog of propaganda to reconstruct the events of the mutiny itself, but the process of mythmaking has been neglected. The myth’s creation paralleled and formed part of the process by which the Soviet Union imposed its influence and control over the PCF. In 1919, Bolshevik propaganda, some of it created by French men and women in Ukraine and Russia who formed the Groupe communiste français, set the terms of the debate in France. Communist supporters used their involvement in the broad-based campaign to free the mutineers in order to build support for the creation of the PCF in December 1920. Later, the PCF used André Marty as a symbol of the party’s militant opposition to capitalism and featured the mutiny in its propaganda through the interwar era. Ultimately, the cult of memory that communists built around the mutiny was more important than the actual events. During the 1920s, the PCF’s re-remembering of the mutiny formed part of the process of Sovietization and helped establish the dominance of revolutionary defeatism and insurrectionism within the party. By 1923, the PCF had become the last group in France regularly speaking publicly about the mutiny, which allowed the party to reshape how people remembered it. The Black Sea Mutiny myth fits into a long tradition of political mythmaking in France and among Marxist parties. The Paris Commune of 1871, appeals to which played a tangential role in the Black Sea Mutiny, was especially fertile ground for mythmaking. Both the French Left and Right built myths around the pétroleuses—petrol-bomb throwing women who burned buildings and defended the Commune. For the left they symbolized popular rage against the reactionary government sitting at Versailles, and the right used them to represent the gender and class anarchy unleashed by the Commune. In the 1990s, Gay Gullickson established that the pétroleuses never existed.1 More recently Robert Tombs and John Merriman have debated whether the victorious French Army really massacred tens of thousands of captured communards during Blood Week.2 In addition to the Black Sea Mutiny myth, the PCF developed personality cults around Joseph Stalin and Maurice Thorez in the late 1920s and 1930s, which were themselves a form of mythmaking. The ritual retelling of the origins and course of the October 1917 Revolution also became a myth as the party line slowly obliterated inconvenient facts and nuances and replaced them with a class-based analysis which validated the Bolshevik Party’s role as the vanguard of the proletariat. The Black Sea Mutiny provides an example of how the PCF used mythmaking to gain popular support and how mythmaking changed the party. Because the Black Sea Mutiny has rarely been the primary focus of scholarship, the communists’ appropriation of the munity has been enormously influential. The dominant work on the mutiny, in both French and English, has been André Marty’s La Révolte de la mer Noire. Marty’s book, originally published in 1927, codified the official party line and was widely translated and published in abridged editions. In it Marty, a prominent communist leader between the 1920s and the early 1950s who served a prison term for his part in the mutiny, presented it as a proto-revolutionary movement and an integral part of the Bolshevik Revolution. He also claimed that if not for his arrest, and the timid leaders who emerged at Sevastopol, the mutiny would have sparked a revolution in France. Marty’s narrative remains influential because, despite its flaws, it is the most repeated version of events.3 In their 1981 study Les Mutins de la mer Noire, Jacques Raphael-Leygues and Jean-Luc Barré acknowledged that war weariness and dissatisfaction with their quality of life played a part in the sailors’ mutiny, but they followed Marty by crediting Russian Bolshevik and French Marxist propaganda with inspiring the rising.4 Philippe Masson’s 1982 La Marine française et la mer Noire, which served as the navy’s official history of the Black Sea intervention, remains the most extensive scholarly treatment of the mutiny and began exposing the myth by rebutting Marty’s claims to have led the mutiny. Masson recognized the existence of pro-Bolshevik propaganda in the fleet but focused on sailors’ grievances about their living conditions in the Black Sea and their sense that it was unfair to keep them deployed abroad after the armistice as the main reason they mutinied. Masson noted that Marty’s role in the mutiny had been greatly exaggerated but could not trace the Black Sea Mutiny’s strange afterlife, because he ended his study with the mutineers’ trials in the summer of 1919.5 Christopher Giebel’s biography of the prominent Vietnamese communist Tôn Đức Thắng was innovative in treating the mutiny within a larger study. Giebel argued that Vietnamese communists, particularly Tôn, appropriated and repeatedly reinterpreted the mutiny to link the Vietnamese communist movement to the Bolshevik Revolution.6 This article contends that the French Communist Party engaged in a similar process. Paul Boulland, Claude Pennetier and Rossana Vaccaro provided a vital new scholarly study of Marty’s life in 2005. They presented the Black Sea Mutiny as the defining event in terms of his political career, public image and place in the international communist movement. They showed that Marty had several different personae over his career, but the Black Sea Mutiny profoundly shaped his political life. The authors did not explore how Marty and the PCF constructed the myth, but instead focused on its power as a political weapon.7 In 2014 Geoff Read argued that the PCF used Marty’s aggressive and abrasive political style as the propaganda foundation for a new communist masculinity. The party claimed that it was creating a ‘new man’ whose ‘male attitude’ of combative defiance would challenge the foundations of bourgeois rule.8 David Slavin has shown that the Black Sea Mutiny and André Marty himself were integral to the PCF’s propaganda offensive during the 1925–26 Rif War in Morocco. The party used the Black Sea Mutiny as the centrepiece of its effort to inspire troops to end the war by fraternizing with Riffian forces.9 Similarly, Susan B. Whitney demonstrated that the PCF used the mutiny myth to recruit young people during the 1920s, especially during the Rif War.10 In his 1984 study of the PCF, M. Adereth only briefly discussed the Black Sea Mutiny, while Edward Mortimer’s 1984 book on the PCF imported Marty’s descriptions of the mutiny, including that it was led by him and inspired by Bolshevik propaganda.11 Romain Ducoulombier dedicated a mere two paragraphs of his 2010 study of the origins of the PCF to the Black Sea Mutiny. This article builds on other elements of his study while complicating his assertion that French communists were independent of Soviet control in the early 1920s.12 I The sailors who mutinied in April 1919 were in Sevastopol as part of Georges Clemenceau’s effort to aid the anti-Bolshevik forces in the Russian Civil War. The intervention began haphazardly in November 1918 when French soldiers landed in Ukraine to secure war materiel in ports, manage the withdrawal of Austro-German troops and support anti-Bolshevik forces inside the former Russian Empire. To perform their mission, French forces occupied coastal cities, including Sevastopol, Odesa (Odessa) and Mykolaiv (Nikolaev).13 Occupation forces encountered deeply divided anti-Bolshevik forces and accomplished little beyond temporarily preventing the Bolsheviks from occupying the ports.14 Almost immediately, naval officers reported that, with the war against Germany over, crewmen wanted to go home. They warned that the armistice had undermined officers’ authority and that some sailors’ desire to go home was making them sympathize with the Bolsheviks.15 A February 1919 report claimed that sailors’ interest in communism was merely an expression of their discontent with inadequate winter clothing, disruptions in the supply chain and the irregular delivery of mail from home.16 There were, however, some warnings about pro-Bolshevik propaganda within the fleet. On 21 February 1919, an intelligence report from Constantinople warned that ‘secret Bolshevik groups in Odesa are heavily engaged in efforts to influence the morale of the sailors on Justice’ and that they were exploiting servicemen’s discontent with the government for keeping them in arms after the end of the war.17 The Bolshevik propaganda campaign was greatly strengthened by the help of the small Groupe communiste française in Kyiv. Formed by Marcel Brody, who was operating on instructions from Jacques Sadoul, a former French officer who had joined the Bolsheviks, the group included Suzanne Depollier (later Girault), who eventually became head of the group and, after returning to France, a PCF leader. Another member, Henri Barberet, had narrowly escaped from Entente-controlled Odesa early in 1919. The group focused much of its efforts on propaganda, including organizing some meetings, but especially publishing the French-language newspaper Drapeau Rouge, which circulated clandestinely within French occupation forces in Ukraine and among sailors in the Black Sea fleet. The presence of this group of French men and women made it much easier for the Bolsheviks to produce a steady stream of French-language propaganda. That propaganda would later play a key role in the PCF’s explanation of the mutiny.18 Even as officers warned that their men’s morale was low, the Entente’s commanders in the region, including Admiral Jean-François Amet, moved to consolidate their control over Black Sea ports by occupying coastal cities such as Mykolaiv in January, and Tiraspol and Kherson in February 1919. These new occupations stretched the already over-extended Entente forces, leaving them vulnerable when Bolsheviks under Nikifor Grigoriev attacked Kherson on 7 March 1919.19 During the night of 9–10 March, the overwhelmed garrison fought its way to the docks and, in the morning, escaped under the cover of machinegun and artillery fire provided by Entente warships while Bolshevik troops attacked the evacuation point.20 The battle was a clear defeat for the Entente and convinced Admiral Amet to order his forces to retreat to Sevastopol. Initially Clemenceau and many senior commanders wanted to hold Sevastopol, in part because in February the semi-dreadnaught Mirabeau had run aground there and could not be immediately refloated. The battle of Kherson had revealed that many soldiers were reluctant to fight, and some Greek troops refused to reinforce Kherson. The growing discontent within the occupation forces, and the challenge of refloating Mirabeau, argued strongly for a withdrawal and by 15 April Clemenceau authorized the evacuation of Sevastopol.21 That same day, French troops defending the port encountered Red Army forces, raising fears of a major clash.22 Naval officers in the Black Sea first detected signs of an impending mutiny on the destroyer Protet in Galați, Romania. On 16 April 1919, informants among the crew warned Captain Welfelé that André Marty, the chief engineer, was conspiring with a handful of sailors, including Louis Badina, and Romanian civilians to take over the ship. Welfelé immediately pre-empted the mutiny by arresting Marty and his co-conspirators. Marty, who later emerged in communist propaganda as the leader of the entire series of revolts, spent the entire mutiny locked in a Romanian cell. Badina was more fortunate and, although he was arrested soon after Marty, managed to escape from his cell and found refuge behind Bolshevik lines. He was later rearrested after returning to France while acting as a courier for the Third International.23 Between 19 and 25 April, sailors on at least ten ships mutinied. The mutiny began on 19 April 1919 among the crews of the battleships France and Jean Bart in Sevastopol’s harbour. On 20 April men on board the battleships Justice, Mirabeau and Vergniaud mutinied. The mutineers did not attack their officers, though crew members threatened several and discussed killing the squadron’s admiral. Some mutineers raised red flags and sang revolutionary songs, but they did not kill their officers, open fire on loyalist ships or try to defect to the Bolsheviks.24 There was only one substantial incident of violence during the mutinies. On 21 April, a detachment of Greek troops led by a French officer opened fire on a group of mutineers who had landed and, together with civilians, were marching through the city. The attack wounded several of the marchers, but there were no fatalities and the incident did not lead to a broader conflict.25 The crews elected delegates who presented demands to their commanding officers. The major demands were neither revolutionary nor overtly political. They included immediate shore leave and promises that mutineers would not be punished and that no coal would be loaded on Easter or Easter Monday. The most political demand was that the fleet would soon return to France.26 The fleet’s commanders soon conceded to the demands, though they reneged on the promise not to punish the mutineers.27 The evacuation, which Clemenceau had authorized on 15 April, was carried out between 22 April and 2 May 1919.28 In June a second round of mutinies took place in solidarity with the original mutineers. On 6 June 1919, the day before the Chambre des députés was set to debate the Black Sea Mutiny, sailors on Provence, then anchored in Toulon, raised a red flag to show their support for the Black Sea mutineers. On 8 June sailors rallied against the mutineers’ trials and demanded an amnesty and immediate demobilization.29 Part of the crew of Provence mutinied against its officers two days later and refused to sail to the Black Sea to inspect the French forces, most of which were in Turkey.30 On 26 June Charles Tillon led a mutiny on the cruiser Guichen, which was carrying tirailleurs sénégalais to Itéa, Greece. It is impossible to accurately describe this mutiny because the contemporary records were destroyed, probably during the Allied bombing of Brest during the Second World War, and the only substantive descriptions that remain are based on Tillon’s writings, all of which were done after he joined the PCF and after the party line was well established. His book, La révolte vient de loin, was not published until 1969 and supported Marty’s overall claims about the mutinies. But given the scale of Marty’s deception on other points, Tillon’s narrative is clearly suspect. According to Tillon, the crew were certain that the troops they were transporting to Greece would be moved to Salonika after they landed and then sent further east, possibly against the Red Army. Tillon claimed that the crew presented a signed letter to the captain asking him to return to France and allow them to demobilize. When the captain refused, Tillon organized a meeting of the men, and the officers tried and failed to persuade and intimidate them into obedience. After that the captain crushed the mutiny by using the tirailleurs against the crew. This resort to force marked the revolt on Guichen as the most serious of the 1919 naval mutinies, but the lack of contemporary documentation, and the fact that the tirailleurs did not kill or seriously wound any of the mutineers, casts doubt on Tillon’s claims.31 Initially the mutiny on Guichen was an afterthought in PCF propaganda and Marty barely mentioned the ship in his book. As Tillon emerged as a party leader in the early 1930s, that began to change and the mutiny on Guichen became a more substantial part of the myth. Emphasizing his role as a mutineer and claiming that he and the crew of Guichen mutinied to protect the Bolsheviks helped Tillon mimic Marty by leveraging the Black Sea Myth to advance his own career. The subsequent courts martial convicted seventeen sailors for participating in the Toulon mutiny and sentenced them to between one and eight years in prison.32 By August 1919 one officer (André Marty) and seventy-three enlisted men had been tried for participation in the Black Sea Mutiny. The sentences ranged from twenty years’ hard labour, for Marty, to as a little as a two-year suspended sentence. Charles Tillon received five years’ hard labour.33 At first, officers and ministers took a balanced view of the mutiny. The navy’s report identified communist propaganda as a contributing factor and noted the existence of an effective Bolshevik propaganda network. The report, however, emphasized that the men’s desire to return home following the end of the war was the main cause of the mutiny. The authors repeated pre-mutiny claims that sailors had been angry about the quality of their food and a shortage of winter clothing. Commanders also believed that the crews felt their sacrifices had not been appreciated by the country or the government. The report cited the text of the law of 10 November 1918 as being especially problematic because it declared that ‘the armies and their chiefs have served their country well’ but failed to mention the navy.34 It also noted that the end of the war with Germany had triggered a ‘a veritable crisis of authority’ as men ceased to respect their officers’ authority, who responded with ‘indulgence for those who, under their orders, endured severe fatigue and discipline during the war to achieve the final victory’. This allegedly created a vicious cycle that allowed minor complaints to multiply and led to officers further relaxing discipline in the face of rising discontent, which made it easier to get propaganda onto the ships. Officers noted that on some ships underlying problems were exacerbated by individual events, almost all of which were apolitical.35 For example, the mutiny on France started with a group of a dozen men unhappy at being assigned to coaling duty the next morning, Easter Sunday.36 As the mutiny ended, most of the officers who experienced it believed that class solidarity, support for the Bolsheviks and outside propaganda were not major causes; instead they blamed war weariness and expressed sympathy for their men. Ministre de la Marine (Navy Minister) George Leygues seemed to agree when he wrote of ‘two days of folly, four and a half-years of heroism. I do not approve of the two days of folly, but I cannot forget the four and a half years of heroism.’37 II First the Bolsheviks and then French communists seized on the mutiny as a useful propaganda symbol that they could appropriate and adapt to their own political needs. The Bolsheviks quickly claimed credit for inciting the mutiny. They asserted that the mutineers had acted in class solidarity with Russian workers and in support of broader revolutionary aims. Within days, Nouvelles, a Bolshevik-controlled newspaper circulating in French-occupied Sevastopol, argued that the mutinies were a revolutionary movement that would soon engulf all of France.38 When word leaked out that Marty was pro-Bolshevik, the party folded him into its narrative by claiming that he had organized and led the mutiny because he and most of the mutineers supported the Soviet cause against their own country’s imperialism.39 The Soviet government presented the mutiny as a communist passion play. It cast Marty in the double-role of Vladimir Lenin and Jesus Christ, the vanguard intellectual leading and organizing the proletariat who suffered for their redemption. Bolshevik propaganda claimed that Marty acted to defend the Russian Revolution, which represented the aspirations of all the world’s workers. The communists’ Marty hagiography made clear that in 1871 his father had been a communard who participated in the Narbonne Commune, one of the regional revolts that supported the Paris Commune. This also gave Marty’s father and his regional commune the same relationship to the Paris Commune that the Bolsheviks claimed Marty and the Black Sea Mutiny had to the Bolshevik Revolution—a supporting revolt which formed part of a larger whole. Marty’s communard heritage further positioned him to play the role of revolutionary leader and martyr because it fitted with pre-existing communist propaganda that appropriated the Paris Commune. The lead article in the 18 March 1919 issue of Krasnaya Gazeta, titled ‘The Commune – (1871–1919)’ declared: We, and we only in the whole world, have the right to celebrate the birthday of the first Commune. Only we have remained true to its testaments and have raised the flag of the communards from the dust and unfurled it over the world. This flag was stamped under foot, was mocked, not only by outsiders but by those to whom it belonged … Now the communards have seized power from the hands of the bourgeoisie. They have armed the people. They have violated the sacred right of bourgeois property. They are conducting civil war against White Guards. For the communards – we are they! And in hating us, our ideas, our efforts and our struggle, they hate the communards.40 Russian communists’ official version of mutiny linked it to a series of crimes they claimed French forces had committed against pro-communist civilians in Ukraine, which echoed standard descriptions of the repression of the Paris Commune. These claims included the alleged execution by naval gunfire of 200 women and children at Kherson. The Kherson massacre never took place as the communists described it. However, it evoked the memory of the Paris Commune’s Bloody Week, including the execution of communard fighters against the mur des fédérés, which the French Left has commemorated every year since 1880. The propaganda also claimed that Marty and the rebel sailors were inspired by the pronouncements of Bolshevik leaders, including the People’s Commissar of Foreign Affairs, Gregory Chicherin.41 By tying Marty to the Commune through his father and then recasting him as Lenin, communist propagandists sought to appropriate Western Europe’s tradition of working-class and republican radicalism. The initial wave of Bolshevik propaganda convinced some observers, most of whom had no first-hand experience of the mutiny, that propaganda had converted many French sailors and soldiers to communism and thus was its main cause. In May 1919, American diplomats in Constantinople signalled to Washington DC that ‘the truth is French troops themselves had become demoralized; they were infected with Bolshevism’.42 The mutiny’s public image in France was initially dominated by the campaign to win amnesty for the mutineers, which emphasized their suffering and claimed that they were being punished by an unfair military justice system. However, as French and Russian communists appropriated the mutiny, the Russians imposed their party line on the French. When the communists first made Marty the face of the mutiny and the focal point of pro-amnesty propaganda they cast him as Christ, the sacrificial victim who suffered for others’ salvation. Even his arrest strengthened the connection because the party line stressed that he had been betrayed by a member of Protet’s crew. So, like Christ, Marty was betrayed by one of the people he sought to save and although he had not been literally crucified, he, like Alfred Dreyfus before him, was unjustly suffering in a military prison. However, French communists slowly shifted towards Moscow’s official line by presenting the mutiny as a proto-revolution which could, and should have, become violent. The amnesty movement fitted into a long-term, broad-based campaign to reform the military justice system which achieved a partial success in 1928. It was also part of a reaction against the brutality of the war in France and Britain. France had a well-established left-wing tradition of accusing courts martial of being politically biased and corrupted by officers who imposed excessive penalties. During the war Socialists, some Radicals and the LDH campaigned against unjust sentences. Most of the groups who supported convicted soldiers and sailors during the war also rallied to help the mutineers in 1919.43 In the summer of 1919 the SFIO, the LDH, many freemasons and some veterans’ groups sprang to the mutineers’ defence. When Marty wrote to deputies seeking their support, he targeted SFIO members with calls for working-class and revolutionary solidarity, but he also wrote to freemasons, some of whom were SFIO members, including the SFIO députés Émile Goude and Ernest Lafont. Both Goude and Lafont, who was also an active member of the LDH, publicly supported Marty in the summer of 1919. Other early supporters included leadings Radicals such as Édouard Herriot and Édouard Daladier.44 In the 5 June 1919 issue of Humanité, which at that time was the SFIO’s flagship journal, a front-page article by the SFIO député Marcel Cachin, who later became a Stalinist member of the PCF, attacked the Clemenceau government for its repression of the mutinies and declared that the SFIO supported the sailors without any reservation or hesitation. He claimed that the mutineers had not committed a crime, because they had remained ‘remained faithful to the history of our Revolution, to the traditions of our people’ and that the real blame lay with the ‘absurd (yes absurd!) discipline imposed by too many Jesuit officers’.45 The next day Cachin interpolated the government in defence of the mutineers.46 During the summer of 1919, Cachin, like many other Socialists in France, was experiencing a political transformation. During the war he had been a supporter of the war effort and had denounced the Bolsheviks as German stooges in 1918, but in December 1920 he became a founding leader of the French Communist Party when he supported the SFIO joining the Third International. In the 1920s he backed imposing Soviet discipline on the PCF and then emerged as a leading Stalinist. In the summer of 1919 he was in the process of moving to the left and his defence of the Black Sea mutineers helped establish his proto-communist credentials. Early June witnessed a major strike wave in France, which was unrelated to the Black Sea Mutiny but the SFIO and the unions used the mutineers to encourage solidarity among workers. In addition to their economic demands, many striking unions sent fraternal greetings to the ‘heroic sailors of the Black Sea fleet and to the soldiers who refuse to become murderers of the working class’. They went on to demand that the government grant a general amnesty and withdraw all forces sent against the Russian and Hungarian revolutions. The unions encouraged soldiers to disobey orders to break the attempted general strike or to use force against strikers.47 On 13 June 1919, Cachin again criticized the government’s handling of the mutiny. This time he described the mutiny as a ‘revolutionary gesture’ and insisted the mutineers were striking against an attempt to illegally make war against the Bolsheviks. He concluded his interpolation by linking the Bolshevik cause with the mutineers, saying that ‘our workers, great and noble idealists, see with the greatest indignation the policy of reaction the minister of foreign affairs is perpetrating in Russia . . . do not punish what you call the mutinies of Sevastopol and Odesa’.48 Many of the mutineers’ supporters were associated with several different traditions or groups at the same time, which ultimately helped pro-communists within the SFIO use the amnesty movement to expand their support. Yvonne Sadoul, Jacques Sadoul’s wife, who was also a communist, and Henri Barbusse organized the Comité de défense des marins which campaigned for an amnesty for the mutineers. Yvonne Sadoul was a member of the Comité de la III Internationale and a regional officer of the SFIO in Poitiers. The Comité de défense des marins played a central role in the amnesty campaign by disseminating stories and letters to newspapers throughout France and lobbying political leaders and journalists to support the Black Sea mutineers. Yvonne Sadoul’s multiple roles allowed her to use the campaign to defend the mutineers as a recruiting tool for the growing pro-communist movement within the SFIO.49 The strong republican and reformist tradition among French freemasons encouraged them to join the campaign to protect the mutineers and, despite the Bolsheviks’ hostility to the group, a number of early PCF leaders were masons, which provided more opportunities for the party to use the amnesty campaign to build its support. The masonic example also showed the perils of co-membership. In 1922 the Comintern declared masonic membership incompatible with party membership and several party leaders had to reapply for membership after being automatically expelled.50 Many groups campaigned to free the mutineers, but after the communist takeover of the SFIO and its transformation into the PCF during the December 1920 party congress in Tours, and the subsequent refounding of the SFIO, the PCF worked hard to appropriate the mutiny as its special cause. This ultimately reinforced the communists’ claim to have been responsible for the Black Sea Mutiny. The party produced posters and pamphlets calling for the release of all the Black Sea mutineers and often gave Marty central billing, while sometimes identifying Badina as his co-conspirator. During the early 1920s Tillon was largely absent from the main narrative of the mutiny and only emerged as a major part of the myth later when he became an important leader in the party. Communist newspapers published editorials demanding the mutineers’ freedom and party meetings often involved calls for their immediate release. The PCF’s campaigns helped to associate the PCF with the mutiny in the public memory.51 This was part of a concerted effort by the communists to undermine the refounded SFIO by winning over the party’s voters and activists.52 Identifying Marty as a communist and the leader of the mutiny allowed the PCF to claim credit for the mutiny as part of its effort to assert its primacy in the amnesty campaign. It also let the party use Marty and the mutiny as a tie connecting French communists directly to the Bolshevik revolution, a process the Soviets encouraged. At the time of his arrest, Marty’s politics were amorphous and although he signalled his support for the Bolshevik cause he did not join any French party while he was in prison. His politics hovered between communism and anarchism, but the SFIO’s leaders hoped to win him over to their cause and competed with the PCF to be seen by voters as his principal champion.53 Their competition sometimes forced the SFIO and the PCF to cooperate on a tactical level. In 1921 Communists and Socialists in the Charonne quarter of Paris’s 20th Arrondissement succeeded in electing Marty as a municipal counsellor in a landslide (4574 vs. 1643). The parties focused their joint campaign on the hope that an electoral victory would increase pressure on the government to amnesty Marty and the other mutineers. The PCFs annual report in December 1921 hailed the election as a success for the party, but the SFIO’s participation showed that the two parties were still actively competing for Marty’s support and, more importantly, to be seen by working-class voters as the leading pro-mutineer party in France.54 III In 1922 the French government released all the mutineers, save Marty who was freed in 1923 as part of a general amnesty for men convicted of wartime offences. Masson argued that the Poincaré cabinet passed the amnesty as part of a deal with opposition legislators who promised to stop attacking wartime summary executions in exchange for a general amnesty. Yet he also made clear that the campaign on behalf of the mutineers had already pressured the government into a series of smaller-scale amnesties and commutations starting in 1920. Masson quoted Admiral Guépratte saying that Marty was released because ‘only the liberation of the condemned man will put an end to the legend of the heroes of the Black Sea and calm these “irritating passions.”‘55 However, the amnesties did nothing to reduce the PCF’s use of Marty and the munity in its propaganda and ultimately helped it appropriate the mutiny as its own symbol. Before the amnesty many groups were calling for the sailors to be released, but afterwards only the PCF regularly discussed the mutiny, which allowed its party line to go largely unchallenged. The PCF definitively won its battle to appropriate the mutiny’s mantle when Marty joined the party on 23 September 1923.56 The PCF was thus unopposed when it continued to argue that the mutiny was a proto-revolution and blamed its failure to spark a revolution in France on weak-willed non-communist leaders who failed to seize the opportunity to take control of their ships and sail back to France to spread the revolution. This reflected the Third International’s growing emphasis on revolutionary activity and echoed the PCF’s overall attacks against the SFIO for being timid and reformist instead of authentically committed to a working-class revolution. In 1923 the Soviet government published its account of the mutiny and gave Marty central billing. It claimed that he was the main organizer and had the support of ‘the best and most conscientious part of the crew’. The sailors were allegedly revolting because they ‘could not accept the idea of being forced to raise their hands against their brothers who had revolted against their oppressors’. This narrative assigned to Louis Badina, a petty officer on Protet, the role of Marty’s ‘devoted comrade, capably of seconding him as any time’. It then claimed that their determination to act was reinforced when they read Chicherin’s denunciation of the murder of 200 women and children who he declared had been killed by French naval gunfire in Kherson. It claimed that Marty planned to take control of Protet, sail to Sevastopol, raise the rest of the fleet and then sail to Marseille to ‘stop the criminal intervention’ in Russia. The Soviet propagandists credited him with triggering the mutiny in the rest of the fleet, asserting that Marty and Badina’s arrest ‘served as the signal for the revolution onboard all the other ships’.57 After his release Marty officially joined the PCF, entered politics and won election to the Chambre des députés on the PCF’s list in Seine-et-Oise in May 1924. Marty’s address to a May Day 1924 rally in Paris reflected the emerging, but incomplete, subordination of the PCF’s rhetoric to the Soviets’ party line. He took credit for the mutiny, claimed it was a self-consciously pro-Bolshevik rising, but still portrayed the mutineers as peaceful victims. He described the men arrested for challenging military authorities as ‘war victims’ and urged workers to unite to defend all soldiers and sailors against their officers just as they had united to win Marty’s own freedom.58 The beginning of the Rif War in Morocco in 1925 highlighted divisions within the PCF. Initially party leaders were reluctant to support Abd el-Krim’s Rif Republic against France. However, after pressure from Moscow the party reversed its position and called on French conscripts to mutiny and fraternize with Riffian forces or French protestors. Jacques Doriot, Maurice Thorez and Marty took advantage of the orders from Moscow and launched a sustained attack on the SFIO-supported Cartel des Gauches government overseeing the war. The propaganda relied heavily on direct and indirect invocations of the Black Sea Mutiny that consolidated the myth that it had been a revolutionary moment. This campaign helped rewrite how both the French public and members of the PCF remembered the events. Although the mutiny had involved little fraternization, PCF propagandists, including Marty himself, turned it into a didactic myth by citing it as an example for French troops in Morocco to emulate. The repetition of their message reinforced readers’ association of Marty and communism with the Black Sea Mutiny and slowly overwrote earlier memories of the mutiny. The PCF’s propaganda campaign included fliers, posters, newspaper stories and meetings all over France. By falsely citing the Black Sea Mutiny as an example of successful fraternization the propaganda fortified the myth that fraternization was an effective revolutionary tactic while further elevating it as an important trope in working-class politics. In addition, the rewriting of the memory of the Black Sea Mutiny was largely unopposed because the mutiny was secondary to the propaganda’s goal, thus there was little incentive for anybody to rebut the PCF version. Doriot and Marty weaponized the mutiny as a revolutionary catalyst, which required Marty to further embrace Moscow’s construction of the mutiny as an act of anti-capitalist violence instead of self-defence. Starting in May 1925, and continuing throughout the summer, the PCF-controlled paper La Caserne, which was aimed as soldiers, called on French troops to fraternize with the Riffians.59 On 25 May Doriot predicted it would be a long and bloody war unless soldiers and sailors forced an end to it through fraternization.60 On 3 June Marty cited his own experiences to assure an audience in Brest that ‘as I did in Russia’ propaganda could change the course of the Rif War. On 11 June 1925 Doriot made the implied comparison to the Black Sea Mutiny explicit when he told a public meeting in Paris that the best way to stop the war was for soldiers to follow the example of the Black Sea sailors by rejecting their officers’ authority. He then claimed that Spanish troops had previously fraternized with the Riffians, which had helped roll-back Spanish imperialism in northern Morocco.61 French officers would have recognized this as a reference to the 1921 Battle of Annual, in which Riffians killed between 10,000 and 13,000 Spanish troops, many after they had surrendered.62 Because the socialist and trades union movements had long claimed that fraternization could stop strike breakers and end wars, the central place communists gave fraternization in the Black Sea Mutiny myth made the two myths mutually reinforcing. Thus, the false claim that fraternization precipitated the mutiny made the rest of the mutiny myth more believable to people in France, and the fact that a mutiny clearly happened was taken as proof that fraternization was an effective anti-war tactic. Calls for fraternization and references to the Black Sea Mutiny were not limited to Paris. In July 1925 the Dépêche de Brest explicitly urged soldiers and sailors in Morocco to emulate the Black Sea mutineers by fraternizing with the Riffians to strike a blow against the government’s imperialist policies.63 When a few sailors on Courbet mutinied in July 1925, the PCF framed the event in terms of the party’s Black Sea Mutiny mythology. On 30 July Humanité, which came under PCF control after the Tours Congress in December 1920, praised rail workers for striking against the navy’s attempts to move arrested mutineers to Paris by train. It proudly declared that the PCF and the unions would support the Courbet mutineers defence of Moroccans just as they had the Black Sea mutineers defence of Russian workers.64 The same issue called on French and Riffian forces to unite against imperialism, declaring ‘Against European imperialism: French soldiers and Riffians: FRATERNISE!’65 On 24 August Humanité promised that the PCF would never cease to protect the mutineers, like it kept solidarity with ‘the glorious sailors of the Black Sea’.66 Even naval officers were affected by the PCF propaganda. Naval counter-intelligence officers’ ‘dossier Courbet’ directly linked the munity to communist propaganda; forty per cent of the newspaper clippings saved in the dossier explicitly invoked the Black Sea Mutiny, which suggests that both journalists and the counter-intelligence officers made the connection.67 On 7 August Humanité published an appeal that it credited to a group of ‘marins révolutionnaires’ serving in the Mediterranean. They praised the Courbet mutineers and called on more sailors to mutiny and fraternize with the Riffians, explaining that ‘the example of our Black Sea veterans would not be without value’.68 Another piece on 25 September quoted an anonymous quartermaster in Le Havre comparing the Courbet mutineers to their ‘glorious predecessors’ of the Black Sea. The article called for revolutionary sailors to organize solidarity strikes in favour of the mutineers.69 In October 1925 members of the PCF’s Action Committee were arrested and charged with inciting soldiers to disobedience by calling on them to fraternize with Riffian forces in propaganda that often invoked the Black Sea mutineers.70 In 1927 the PCF published the first edition of La Révolte de la mer Noire, Marty’s account of the mutiny, in which he remained steadfastly loyal to the official Comintern line laid out in the Soviet Union’s 1923 account of the events. Marty claimed that the Sevastopol mutiny was the culmination of a wave of revolts that broke the will of French leaders to carry on the war against the Soviets. He emphasized the importance of fraternization between Russian workers and French soldiers and sailors in making the mutiny happen. By expanding the Black Sea Mutiny into a months-long escalating conflict Marty magnified its importance and placed the Bolshevik Party at the centre of his narrative. Ironically, because Marty was present for almost none of the events he described in his book, it was based on, often undisclosed, third-party sources.71 By putting the text in Marty’s name, the PCF further solidified his claim to have led the revolt and his position as a living symbol of the mutiny. Marty began his story with the November 1918 armistice that ended the First World War, but instead of focusing on soldiers’ and sailors’ war weariness he highlighted politics. Insurrectionary and pacifist tropes coexisted in Marty’s narrative when he described the arrival of occupation forces, but the insurrectionary position became dominant when he addressed his aborted mutiny on Protet and the mutinies in Sevastopol. He claimed that soldiers of the 58th Infantry Regiment refused to leave for Russia on 6 February 1919 and that they responded to the divisional commander’s pleas to obey orders by crying ‘war has not been declared on Russia!’72 According to Marty, Bolshevik propaganda convinced French forces in Crimea and other parts of Ukraine to resist their officers’ orders. He referenced person-to-person contact, including one group that posed as a choir, but also posters imploring servicemen ‘do not fire on our Russian brothers’ and newspapers smuggled on board ships by being hidden inside envelopes. Overall the effect was a ‘violent propaganda’ which challenged the legitimacy of the operation.73 He mobilized some of that propaganda to present a litany of atrocities he alleged French forces had committed against civilians in the region. While discussing Grigoriev’s attack on Kherson, Marty applauded soldiers of the 176th Infantry Regiment for fraternizing with Bolshevik workers instead of executing them, and claimed that they sang revolutionary songs while releasing captured Bolsheviks.74 Marty reported that ‘in Ukraine, Crimea, and Bessarabia, Bolsheviks explained to the solders the reasons that they suffered worse than the most wretched of men: the war had begun again!’ He also claimed that ‘the call for occupation troops to fraternize with workers was mainly aimed at the French troops who were the occupation’s backbone’.75 Marty extended the distinctively communist argument that the sailors made a mistake by being non-violent in April 1919. Whereas the mutineers’ defenders in 1919 had praised their peaceful tactics, Marty argued that their leaders erred because if they had attacked their officers and seized control of their ships they could have sailed home to France and provided the necessary spark to start a revolution. As Marty put it, ‘the moment for action had come. The opportunity was missed.’76 He condemned the mutineers’ elected representatives and assured his readers that the mutineers wanted to throw off their officers’ authority and open fire on the Greek battleship Kilkis, but the delegates negotiated with Admiral Amet instead of unleashing a revolution.77 Given that the party line claimed that Marty was the leader of the revolt, it is not surprising that he presented himself as the man who could have turned the mutiny into a revolution. As well as excoriating the sailors’ representatives for their weakness Marty lamented that his arrest prevented him from personally taking control of events in Sevastopol. Although he could not have had foreknowledge of the unplanned mutinies, he claimed that if he had successfully taken over Protet he would have sailed for Sevastopol and turned the mutiny into a revolution. As he wrote: ‘imagine, if not for an accident [his arrest], that afternoon or the next day, Protet would have arrived ready for battle, knowing what we wanted, red flag flying, officers locked up. The entire squadron would have followed’ (emphasis in original).78 He went on to claim that the arrival of the revolutionary fleet back in France would have pushed the country over the edge into a revolution. Marty presented Badina as a loyal ally and quoted his trial in 1921, after the Bolshevik party line had already been laid down, as proof of his claims. At his trial Badina told the court that ‘we would have returned to Marseille, a proletarian centre that the government could not have defended against a landing (unlike the military ports) and where our arrival could help the working class to start a victorious insurrection’.79 Although Marty’s story of the Black Sea Mutiny was little more than a repackaging of the—Soviet-created—PCF party line, years of communist propaganda that clearly linked him to the revolt in the public imagination gave his account of events enormous power. Marty’s narrative dominated the public discourse about the Black Sea Mutiny because he and his PCF allies were the main people talking about it in public. That, in turn, shaped how military and political leaders, most of whom had never seen the official reports from 1919, viewed the mutiny and its origins. For the rest of his political career Marty evoked the Black Sea Mutiny. In February 1928 he was sentenced to two years in prison for writing articles that called on soldiers to disobey orders and mutiny against their officers.80 In 1930 he urged soldiers to emulate the soldiers and sailors of 1919 by fraternizing with Soviet troops and civilians if the French Army tried to launch its alleged plan to invade the Soviet Union.81 During the Spanish Civil War he appealed, with little success, to soldiers in Franco’s army to fraternize with Republican forces and civilians.82 Each time Marty called for fraternization he reinforced the public’s belief that communist propaganda had led previous sailors and soldiers to mutiny against their officers and fraternize with their erstwhile enemy. By the late 1920s the communists had firmly established the link between the Black Sea mutineers and fraternization. In February 1927 the PCF-aligned Association républicaine des anciens combattants called on conscripts to emulate the ‘soldiers and sailors of the Black Sea’ by fraternizing with strikers or opposing soldiers.83 In November 1928 Rail Électrique, a PCF-controlled journal in Juvisy aimed at railway workers, published a warning that the French Army was preparing to attack the Soviet Union. It predicted that ‘today the capitalists are preparing a new war against the Soviet Union. But, the workers will remember the example of the Black Sea sailors and, if they are armed to attack Soviet Russia, they will use the arms TO DEFEND IT.’84 The editorial’s rhetoric encapsulated the ascendancy of the Black Sea myth, Soviet influence and the doctrine of revolutionary defeatism within the PCF. IV The Black Sea Mutiny began as an important but local mutiny among French sailors whose fleet was already preparing to abandon Sevastopol, but communist propagandists slowly reworked it into a symbol of the appeal of communist ideas in post-First World War France. At first French officers and communists presented contradictory explanations of the mutiny; French officers insisted the mutiny had been principally inspired by war weariness and a desire to return home, while French and Russian communists asserted that the mutiny was an overtly pro-Bolshevik political and revolutionary act. In 1919 the opposing narratives interacted in courts martial, military inquiries and internal government debates, but in public the communists’ narrative had a distinct advantage. The military reports were distributed within the army and navy and were available to some political leaders, but the communists presented and regularly repeated their narrative directly to the public for years. Each time the PCF called for the government to amnesty André Marty and the other mutineers it further strengthened the public identification of the party and communism with the mutiny. The best contemporary evidence strongly supported the navy’s narrative, yet it soon faded from public and official view while the communists continued to repeat their version of the mutiny. Soon, all but a handful of officers and politicians were dependent, either directly or indirectly, on PCF propaganda for their knowledge of the mutiny. The PCF’s reconstruction of the Black Sea Mutiny skewed its own members’ memories of the events and was part of the process of subordinating the party to Soviet control. During the early 1920s the PCF’s initial narrative gave way to Moscow’s party line, and during the Rif War supporters of Sovietization within the PCF used the Black Sea myth to superimpose revolutionary defeatism, via fraternization, as a central tenet of the PCF’s ideology. Calls for soldiers to fraternize with workers and foreign troops were nothing new, but by reinterpreting the Black Sea Mutiny as a proto-revolution fuelled by communist ideas, Bolshevik propaganda and fraternization, the PCF manufactured evidence that appeared to validate its claim that its propaganda could get troops to fraternize with domestic protestors and foreign soldiers and provoke a working-class revolution. This recast fraternization as a step in a violent revolution instead of as a pacifist or anti-militarist tactic. The party’s retelling of the Black Sea Mutiny was ultimately more important than the mutiny itself because it became the dominant narrative about the mutiny, inside and outside the PCF. The myth fed the hopes of party members and fears of anti-communists in equal measure. He would like to thank Thomas Kselman for his advice and support when he was researching this article and his colleague Albert Hamscher for encouraging him to write it. Finally, he is grateful to Suzanne Orr, Georges Vidal and the reviewers for their advice on this project. The research for this article was supported by an Edward Sorin Postdoctoral Fellowship from the University of Notre Dame. Footnotes 1 G. Gullickson, Unruly Women of Paris (Ithaca, NY, 1996). 2 R. Tombs, Paris, bivouac des révolutions. La Commune de 1871 (Paris, 2014); J. Merriman, Massacre: The Life and Death of the Paris Commune of 1871 (New Haven, 2014). 3 A. Marty, La Révolte de la mer Noire (Pantin, 1999); P. Boulland, C. Pennetier and R. Vaccaro (eds), André Marty: l’homme, l’affaire, l’archive (Paris, 2005), 18. Although WorldCat shows there was a 1925 edition, all of the libraries it lists actually have later editions. In addition, Marty’s biographers say it was first published in 1927. 4 J. Raphael-Leygues and J.-L. Barré, Les Mutins de la mer Noire (Paris, 1981), 96. 5 P. Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire (1918–1919) (Paris, 1982). 6 C. Giebel, Imagined Ancestries of Vietnamese Communism (Seattle, 2004). 7 Boulland et al. André Marty, 28. 8 G. Read, The Republic of Men (Baton Rouge, LA, 2014), 66–7. 9 D. Slavin, ‘The French Left and the Rif War, 1924–1925’, J. Contemp. Hist. 26 (1991), 5–32. 10 S. Whitney, Mobilizing Youth: Communists and Catholics in Interwar France (Durham, NC, 2009), 41. 11 M. Adereth, The French Communist Party: A Critical History (1920–84) (Manchester, 1984), 18; E. Mortimer, The Rise of the French Communist Party, 1920–1947 (London, 1984), 37–8. 12 R. Ducoulombier, Camarades!: La naissance du parti communiste en France (Paris, 2010), 170–1. 13 This article uses Ukrainian instead of Russian spellings for place names in Ukraine, except for Sevastopol, because it is strongly engrained in the Black Sea Mutiny literature and the Ukrainian spelling Sevastopil remains little known among Anglophone audiences. 14 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 63–78, 83–93. 15 S[ervice] H[istorique de la] D[éfense]-D[épartement de la] M[arine], SS ED 30, ‘Crisis of Authority’; Report, 12 Feb. 1919. 16 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, Report 12 Feb. 1919. 17 SHD-DM, 1 BB7 231, No. 365, 21 Feb. 1919. 18 M. Brody, Les groupes communistes français de Russie, 1918–1921 (Paris, 1988), 47–53. 19 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 109–119. 20 Ibid., 170–3. 21 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 217–23. 22 Ibid., 223. 23 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Manifestations d’indiscipline’, 28 Apr. 1919. 24 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Manifestations d’indiscipline’, 28 Apr. 1919. 25 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 264. 26 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, Les marines se sont plaints aux autorités, undated. 27 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Manifestations d’indiscipline’, 28 Apr. 1919. 28 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 236–43. 29 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, Folder Toulon, Report, 8 June 1919; ‘Cuirassé Provence Jugement rendu par un conseil de guerre assemblé à bord du Cuirassé Provence en rade de Toulon.’ 30 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, Folder Toulon, Report, 8 June 1919; ‘Cuirassé Provence Jugement rendu par un conseil de guerre assemblé à bord du Cuirassé Provence en rade de Toulon.’ 31 C. Tillon, La révolte vient de loin (Paris, 1969); Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 497–503. 32 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, Folder Toulon, Report, 8 June 1919; ‘Cuirassé Provence Jugement rendu par un conseil de guerre assemblé à bord du Cuirassé Provence en rade de Toulon.’ 33 SHD-DM, SS ED 30 ‘Relevé des informations terminées en cours ou à ouvrir’, August 1919. 34 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Crise de l’autorité.’ 35 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Crise de l’autorité.’ 36 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Manifestations d’indiscipline’, 28 Apr. 1919. 37 ‘Note manuscrite de Georges Leygues’, in Raphael-Leygues and Barré, Mutins de la mer noir, image 28 between pp. 64 and 65. 38 SHD-DM, 1 BB7 232 No. 688, ‘Propaganda bolchéviste.’ 39 Raphael-Leygues and Barré, Mutins de la mer Noire, 60–5; A[rchives] N[ationales], F 7 13190, ‘Paix a l’URSS et AMNISTIE’; AN, F 7 12176, Dépêche de Brest (Brest). 40 U[niversity of] C[hicago] S[pecial] C[ollections], Samuel N. Harper Papers, Series VIII, Box 67, Folder 145 Propaganda. Translation of Krasnaya Gazeta, 18 March 1919. 41 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Documents Russe l’Offensif Révolutionnaire de Marty et Badina.’ 42 UCSC, Series IV, Box 54, Untitled notes on the event at Odessa, May 1919. 43 O. Roynette, ‘Les conseils de guerre en temps de paix entre réforme et suppression (1898–1928)’, Vingtième Siècle. Revue d’histoire, No. 73 (January–March 2002), 51–66. 44 P. Boulland et al. (eds), André Marty, 161–2; Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 536. 45 ‘Pour nos petits Marins de la Mer Noire’, Humanité (Paris), 5 June 1919, 1. 46 ‘Séance de l’après-midi’, Humanité (Paris). 6 June 1919, 2. 47 ‘L’Agitation ouvrière’, Humanité (Paris). 7 June 1919, 4. 48 Compte rendu de la séance du 13 Juin 1919 à la Chambre des députés reproduced in Raphael-Leygues and Barré, Mutins de la mer noire, 191, 202 49 Ducoulombier, Camarades!, 168–71. 50 Jane Degras (ed.), The Communist International 1919–1943 Documents, vol. 1, 1919–1922, (London, 1955), 403–5. 51 Raphael-Leygues and Barré, Mutins de la mer noire, 60–5; AN F 7 13190. ‘Paix a l’URSS et AMNISTIE’; AN F 7 12176. Dépêche de Brest (Brest). 52 J. Colton, Léon Blum: Humanist in Politics (New York, 1966), 55–7. 53 Romain Ducoulombier, Régénérer le socialisme: ascétisme révolutionnaire et homme nouveau prolétarien au cœur du premier communisme français (1917–1924) (Paris, Science Po), Diss. 2002, 493–495. 54 Parti communiste. Congrès national. ‘Un an d’action communiste: rapport du secrétariat général présenté au 19e congrès national (1er congrès du parti communiste)’, 39. 55 Masson, La Marine française et la mer Noire, 535–6. 56 Ibid., 369–70. 57 SHD-DM, SS ED 30, ‘Documents Russe l’Offensif Révolutionnaire de Marty et Badina.’ 58 ‘Douze mille travailleurs acclament en Marty l’Amnistie générale la Révolution russe et le Communisme’ Humanité (Paris), 1 May 1924, 1. 59 AN, F 7 13174, Le Caserne clippings May–Aug. 1925. 60 AN, F 7 13171, Report, 25 May 1925. 61 AN, F 7 13171, Report 3 June 1925; Report, 11 June 1925. 62 V. Courcelle-Labrousse and N. Marmié, La Guerre du Rif: Maroc 1921–1926 (Paris, 2008), 74. 63 AN, F 7 13176, Dépêche de Brest. 64 SHD-DM, 2 BB 81, Humanité, 30 July 1925. 65 AN, F 7 13415, Humanité, 30 July 1925. 66 SHD-DM, 2 BB 81, Humanité, 24 Aug. 1925. 67 SHD-DM, 2 BB 81, ‘Dossier Courbet’. 68 SHD-DM, 2 BB 81, Humanité, 8 Aug.1925. 69 SHD-DM, 2 BB 81, Humanité, 6 Sept. 1925. 70 AN, F 7 12919, Le Temps, 12, Oct. 1925. 71 Marty, La Révolte de la mer Noire. 72 Ibid., 45. 73 Ibid., 114–16. 74 Ibid., 57–9. 75 Ibid., 42 76 Ibid., 141. 77 Ibid., 140–1. 78 Ibid., 146. 79 Ibid., 96. 80 AN, F 13099, 11 Feb. 1928. 81 AN. F 7 13190, ‘Paix a l’URSS et AMNISTIE’, November 1930. 82 P. Robrieux, Histoire intérieure du Parti communiste français, Tome 4 (Paris, 1984), 415–20. 83 AN, F 7 12969, Monthly Report, Feb. 1927. 84 AN, F 7 13144, Report, 19 Dec. 1928. © The Author(s) 2018. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Society for the Study of French History. All rights reserved. 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French HistoryOxford University Press

Published: Mar 1, 2018

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