The Nazi-Soviet Pact.

The pact that resulted from Adolf Hitler’s offer of a deal to Joseph Stalin in August 1939, more than any other, is one of the most controversial incidents in the history of twentieth-century diplomacy. [1] This pact, more than any other single event, gave Hitler the green-light for war by freeing him from the likelihood of war on two fronts and thus, making his invasion of Poland inevitable. Historically, Stalin’s motives for an alliance with Hitler have been, and remain, highly contested. [2] Until 1990, accounts of Soviet-German relations running up to and including the pact were based predominantly on German documents. This helps explain the establishment of a reasonably full account of the German side of the deal. This perspective was then utilised in the formulation of the Soviet side of the picture. Only with the publication of a new collection of diplomatic documents from the Soviet archives have historians been able to question previous accounts. [3] Since the end of the Cold War, a number of western historians have adopted a view more sympathetic to Stalin and the quandary of the Soviet Union’s need for security.[4]

As Stalin noted, the diplomacy that led to the pact was like a poker game with three players. [5] In a sense, he was almost correct for it is essential to understand the actions of Britain and France to see the reasons for Stalin’s gravitation to Nazi Germany as a preferred partner. There was, however, another factor in European diplomacy: Japan. The Soviet Union, like Germany, had to concern themselves with the possibility of war on two fronts and, in 1939, this was a very real concern given the war with Japan being raged (albeit localised) throughout the period that the Non-Aggression Pact was being negotiated.

Between March and October 1938, Hitler raised Europe-wide tension over the fate of Czechoslovakia by claiming that the three and a half million Sudeten Germans were being persecuted by the Czech State.[6] As much as Hitler’s feigned concern for the Sudeten Germans was useful as a cover for German intervention in, and ultimate absorption of, the Czech State, so too the British and French concern for the peaceable transfer of Sudeten sovereignty to the Reich remained a matter of practice rather than principle. Not having any particular aversion to Hitler’s explicit demands of Sudeten self-determination, Britain’s primary concern was that the Czech State should not be drawn towards initiating a conflagration that would precipitate wider conflict.[7] Britain’s involvement was necessitated by an almost symbiotic attachment to the defence and non-belligerence of France which may have become threatened by treaty obligations to the Czechs.[8] As Baldwin had noted to the House of Commons in July 1935, with the advent of air warfare and strategic bombing: when thinking of the defence of England, you should ‘think of the Rhine’ as the frontier.[9] Buoyed by this warning, Britain’s attachment to France was strategic and real rather than ideological and munificent. Chamberlain’s ‘achievement’ at Munich was such that the diplomatic tinderbox that Czechoslovakia was, did not ignite and draw the country into an unwanted war at a time of ill-preparation.[10] Consequently, the policy of appeasement became validated as a ‘just’ policy. The weight of public and parliamentary opinion rested behind Chamberlain’s actions despite opposition that was diverse, ineffective and lacking any common objection.[11] The main negative consequence of the ‘achievement’ was that Chamberlain had enthusiastically adopted the role of peacemaker that the European public readily accepted.[12] In this capacity, it would have been somewhat perverse had ‘the dove of peace’ suddenly embarked upon a campaign of energetic and open rearmament; Chamberlain was thus constrained by his own propagandised image.[13] This should not detract from the fact that British rearmament was increased from October 1938.[14]

The means by which this essay shall attempt to meet its ends will consist of analysis of two key areas. Hitler’s foreign policy and its development and then the foreign policy of the Soviet Union as she attempted find security through alignment with Nazi Germany. Sitting astride these two key areas the foreign policy initiatives of the other powers will be given mention as necessary. The conclusion to be arrived at will show that Stalin’s arrival at a pact with Hitler, theoretically his ideological antipode, was the result of a pragmatic assessment of each of the other poker-players. Having attempted to keep his opportunities open, he opted for alignment with Nazi Germany as the best means of avoiding war. Just how long Stalin thought he could sustain this situation is another matter.


The Munich Agreement cheated Hitler out of his war to ‘smash Czechoslovakia’ planned, without compunction, since May 1938,[15] but allowed him the opportunity to draw four significant conclusions.[16] Firstly, Czechoslovakia would be treated vindictively. Having conceded to the demands that Henlein had assured Hitler ‘could never be satisfied’, the Czech’s were deemed primarily responsible for escaping the fate in store for them. Secondly, the German public had responded with jubilation at the news that war had been averted.[17] In Hitler’s mind, this displayed the need for further psychological preparation for when his war did come.[18] Thirdly, having been encouraged by Mussolini into conciliatory negotiation with Britain and France and thus denied the initiative, Hitler determined never again to be swayed from his intended course of action once that course had been definitively planned.[19] This persuasion, although successful at the eleventh hour, had been attempted by numerous figures within the Nazi Party and high-ranking military officials. Like the German public, there were some figures in these hierarchies not entirely enthused by the idea of war.[20] Fourthly, and most importantly for the present purposes, Hitler realised that it would be essential to secure his eastern border so as to be in a position to face Britain and France whom he now recognised as the principal potential enemies.

Hitler’s earlier wistful plans for co-operation with Britain – that Britain would somehow agree to concentrate on her overseas empire whilst allowing Germany to gain hegemony over Europe – had dissipated in the mid-1930s.[21] The May Crisis and Munich had confirmed to Hitler that Britain was not about to turn a blind eye to any changes in the status quo. However, British resolve to maintain the status quo was not, in Hitler’s eyes, reflected in the characters of Chamberlain or Halifax (who had failed to impress Hitler when they met in November 1937[22]) and so he held on to the belief that they would avoid a fight if at all possible.[23] Yet, there remained the inevitability that they would have to be dealt with in the future. Hitler estimated that British rearmament efforts would disallow her participation in a major war until 1942 at the earliest. However, by 1943, Germany’s relative strength vis-à-vis Britain would have declined. The ‘Hoßbach Memorandum’ of 1937 had recognised this.[24] Despite the fact that naval rearmament agreed under the Anglo-German Naval Agreement of 1935 would not be completed until 1942, Hitler ordered, in early 1937, the construction of another six large battleships to be completed by 1944 in clear contravention of the 1935 agreement.[25] The change in Hitler’s thinking is manifestly recognisable in his revised naval rearmament policy. In January 1939, plans for naval rearmament were then given absolute priority over all other considerations. This led Donald Watt to convincingly profess that naval rearmament was the ‘yardstick’ by which Germany’s attitude to Britain could be measured.[26] The belated change to the naval programme reflected the changing role that Britain was expected to play. In November 1938, Hitler authorised the Wehrmacht to begin discussions with Italy for ‘[w]ar by Germany and Italy against France and Britain, with the object first of knocking out France.’ To remove France from such a war would deny Britain any strategic foothold on the Continent from which to continue a large-scale war.[27]
Recognition of Britain as the principal enemy led to the increased influence of Joachim von Ribbentrop (Ambassador to London since October 1936[28]) who had been preaching this line since early 1938.[29] After Munich, Ribbentrop set about attempting to finalise the Anti-Comintern Pact with Italy and Japan as the ‘active’ partners and transform it into a tripartite military alliance that, whilst outwardly a challenge to the Soviet Union, was a direct challenge to Britain and France.[30] He was unsuccessful in this respect as neither Japan nor Italy were prepared to take this step. The Italians, and particularly Ciano (Foreign Minister), with a measure of distaste, saw Ribbentrop as being particularly enthusiastic for war with Britain.[31] Mussolini was less enthused; approving the alliance in principle, he was not prepared to commit himself fully to the Germans with a written alliance until he had secured ratification of the Easter Agreement of 1938 with the British.[32] However, with deteriorating Franco-Italian relations,[33] and after the annexation of Albania in April had been opposed by both western nations,[34] an increasingly isolated Mussolini came round to the idea during late December.[35] The Japanese, likewise, were unenthusiastic at the prospect of being forced into engaging the British; instead, they aimed to limit the focus of any agreement to being anti-Soviet.[36] The Japanese Government were inhibited by divided opinion and spent several months discussing the proposals.[37] As such, Ribbentrop’s planned tripartite alliance was inoperable; the Japanese were only interested in the Soviet Union at the time when Germany and Italy were focussed on the western powers and at a time when Germany was attempting to attract the Soviets to closer relations. Ribbentrop settled for the next best thing. In January, Mussolini agreed to a bilateral alliance that, whilst being a full military alliance, had a proviso stipulating full consultation between the powers and that there would be no war for at least three years. This was the ominous-sounding ‘Pact of Steel’ that was concluded in May 1939. The Italian informed the German quite candidly that Italy could not go to war until 1942; he was reassured when Ribbentrop claimed that Germany required a period of peace, but not too concerned when it was stipulated that Germany needed to acquire Danzig and a highway across the Corridor soon.[38] Many historians give mention to Ribbentrop’s deceit in dealing with Ciano. The fact that Ciano himself felt ‘betrayed’ in August on finding out that the Germans were prepared to fight over Poland may have given rise to this.[39] But Ribbentrop and his master both believed that Britain and France would remain passive and the Polish jewels could be taken without war so German duplicity was not necessarily a factor in the Pact. Although the pact with Italy did reinforce Germany’s southern flank (or at least gave that appearance) the most significant aspect of these proceedings was that the absence of robust assistance pledged from Italy and the intransigence of the Japanese ensured that a pact with the Soviet Union was all the more necessary.

Ribbentrop’s ascendancy is of the greatest importance. It undermined much of the ‘polycratic’ and ‘concept pluralist’ influences on Hitler’s foreign policy decision making.[40] Ribbentrop’s success with Hitler, despite an almost universal hatred of the man, was described by Reinhard Spitzy (a member of Ribbentrop’s SS staff). Hitler one day described Ribbentrop as ‘always so radical’, which appealed to Hitler. Ribbentrop understood that Hitler was always sympathetic to the most radical solution and so always proposed a more radical idea than anyone else.[41] There is, consequently, a direct corollary between the timing of Ribbentrop’s ascendancy to the Foreign Ministry in 1938 and the radicalisation of Hitler’s manipulative approach to foreign affairs after Munich. As Donald Watt notes, prior to Munich, Hitler awaited the best opportunity to activate his plans; in the post-Munich world, his intuitive opportunism was encumbered by the actions of others. He was thus forced to manipulate multilateral events as a means creating opportunities.[42] Ribbentrop’s influence, though at times inept, was central to the coming of war and the Pact with Stalin.
Czechoslovakia was to be swallowed before Poland. A directive 21 October 1938 spelled out a military solution to the perplexing continued existence of the now enfeebled rump-Czechoslovakia. It planned for German homeland defence, the ‘liquidation of the Czech State’ and also the recovery of Memelland.[43] The directive, given its largely violent tone, was a reflection of Hitler’s post-Munich umbrage. But pragmatism soon overcame this swingeing mood when, on 17 December, a stipulation was appended that action against the Czech State should appear to be peaceful and not ‘warlike’ as a means of undermining the Anglo-French given Czechoslovakia in September.[44] The pacifist element of German opinion also came under attack. On 10 November, in a ‘secret speech’ to four hundred pressmen (not necessarily an absurdity in Nazi Germany), Hitler professed his aggressive ambitions and the central role in the psychological rearmament that propaganda would necessarily play in the preparation of these aims.[45] A non-warlike solution was presented to Hitler by Slovakian separatists. Whilst the Slovakians were willing to rail against the Czech State, its willingness to do so was accelerated by German threats of Hungarian annexation. With the integrity of the Czech State undermined, the Czech President Emil Hácha was brought to Berlin and bullied into ‘inviting’ German intervention.[46] On 14 March, the German army was able to enter Prague without resorting to war. Memel was restored to the Reich on 22 March.

Hitler had already turned his attention to Poland. The German Government, again through the seemingly omnipresent Ribbentrop, began to apply pressure to persuade the Poles, firstly to allow the construction of an extra-territorial road and railway across the ‘Polish Corridor’ to connect with East Prussia and, secondly, for the return of Danzig. Where the Poles were willing to acquiesce to the former, they were most assuredly unwilling in the case of the latter.[47] Danzig was not the central issue of the demand, Hitler informed his generals on 23 May 1939, it was ‘a matter of expanding our living space in the east and making food supplies secure.’ Expounding the importance of Lebensraum (lit. living-space), Poland had to be attacked ‘at the first suitable opportunity.’[48] In January, Hitler met with the Polish Foreign Minister, Colonel Jósef Beck, and presented him with the German demands. But with the absorption of rump-Czechia[49] in March along with the repossession of Memelland, the Polish position became increasingly difficult. The extent to which a British guarantee of Polish ‘independence’ reinforced Polish resolve against the German demands remains controversial,[50] certainly the British were henceforth committed to the wishes of the Polish regardless of the wishes of the (overwhelmingly Nazi) Danzigers.[51] The Polish, after Munich, had been contingency planning for war with Germany and made sure that their intentions were heard in Berlin. Military plans were created in a corollary state of panic that saw the Poles attempting to repair estranged diplomatic relations with Britain, France and Italy at the very same time that France was attempting to divest itself of Eastern European commitments.[52] During 1938-1939, Beck travelled to all three countries where he was treated with generally little regard.[53] But the Polish representations of military prowess were not effective in Germany; Hitler’s greatest fear in the matter was ‘that some “Schweinehund”, some SOB would come along at the last minute with a compromise to avoid war’ rather than the efficacy of Polish defences.[54] By absorbing Czechoslovakia, the German war-machine was the beneficiary of an advanced and well-equipped munitions industry as well as significant quantities of armaments and Czech industry help momentarily revive a struggling Four-year Plan.[55] The absorption of the Czech State thus helped isolate Poland as per Hitler’s perception of the task.[56]

To further isolate the Poles and thus avoid repeating the grave strategic error of 1914, two possible strategies were tried. Göring attempted, without urgency, the less attractive strategy of neutralising British intervention. He set about explaining the rationality of the German demands to Nevile Henderson (British Ambassador in Berlin) with a sympathetic understanding of the British position.[57] Despite the last minute attempts by the dubiously qualified Swede, Birger Dahlerus, to bring about some form of Munich-styled compromise at the eleventh-hour, the British resolve to stand firm over Poland was not lost on Hitler. On 25 August, the Anglo-Polish Pact was signed; on 28 August, Hitler told Henderson that he knew the West not to be bluffing.[58] By this point, however, it did not matter for Ribbentrop, having been appointed the second strategy, had been more successful. The signing of the Nazi-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact on 24 August nullified the threat of war on two fronts. The war against Poland would be localised and completed before the Nazis had to turn to the west.


After the disintegration of German-Soviet relations in the wake of the Nazis ‘seizure of power’ in January 1933, diplomatic relations between the two powers had struggled to remain practicable.[59] Attempts to restore relations – most questionably through David Kandelaki (Soviet commercial attaché to Berlin) – were not, as some historians have suggested, preliminaries to the Nazi-Soviet Pact of 1939. Instead, these rather modest attempts to normalise relations ran alongside the more generally overt and consistent policy of the search for an anti-German form of collective security.[60] From 1934, the major concern of the Narkomindel (Foreign Commissariat) was the prevention of the spread of fascism in Europe. The Soviet Union’s worst fear was that they alone would have to face a strong Germany at some point in the future.[61]

Soviet observations of the western powers’ appeasement from the middle of the 1930s did nothing to allay this fear. The general turn of tide in the appeasement of Germany after Hitler’s entry into Prague bore little consequence with the Soviet dictator. Suspicions of the Western Powers’ motives at Munich where, Izvestiya noted, ‘the first time we know of that the seizure of someone else’s territory … is nothing less than a “triumph” or “victory” for peace.’[62] The threat of western rapprochement with the ‘Axis’ would have isolated the Soviet Union, a particularly worrying fact given that the Soviets, like the British, had to balance the risk of war in Europe with the risk of war in the Far East.[63] In these circumstances, and bearing in mind that Poland sat between Germany and the Soviet Union as an obstacle, the main adherent of a firm anti-German stance, Maxim Litvinov, found himself faced with firm opposition for his policy of collective security to contain German aggression.[64] Not all Bolsheviks could distinguish between the ‘aggressor states’ and the democracies as clearly as Litvinov could. Vyacheslav Molotov’s (Prime Minister) position was improved slightly in 1935 by his insistence that an improvement in Russo-German relations would be beneficial.[65] His position was then fortified by Andrei Zhdanov’s description of the Spanish Civil War as a prelude to ‘the definitive and decisive clash of the world of communism and the world of capitalism.’[66] The logical conclusion of Zhdanov and Molotov’s thinking saw Nazi Germany as a capitalist power. The likelihood that the capitalists would ultimately find ideological affinity and act aggressively towards the Soviet Union was seen as inevitable. Western intervention in the Russian Civil War (1917-1921), the arena in which many of the Bolshevik hierarchy carved out their names, became ‘the archetype of an undifferentiated, outside world.’[67] Yet, ideological isolation alone does not fully explain the diplomatic isolation felt by the Soviets during the 1920s and 1930s.

In September 1939, Stalin whittled down the international situation to its bare bones for the benefit for Molotov, Zhdanov and Georgi Dimitrov. He stated that

‘[a] war is on between two groups of capitalist countries – (poor and rich as regards colonies, raw materials, and so forth) – for the re-division of the world, for the domination of the world! … We see nothing wrong in their having a good hard fight and weakening each other.’

Acknowledging the fact that the Non-Aggression Pact was to some extent assisting the Nazis, Stalin did not elicit any strong feeling for either side. ‘Next time, we’ll urge on the other side.’ In fact, Stalin signalled that he would have preferred to have made a deal with the western powers, ‘[b]ut the English like the French wanted us for farmhands and at no cost.’[68] In his assessment of the situation, Stalin was not too far from the truth. The British were fervently anti-Communist and had been since 1917.[69] Chamberlain in particular, was stringently so. During the Spanish Civil War he complained to his sister that the ‘Bolshies’ were ‘the limit – all the time trying to make mischief. But we have got some damning evidence [of intervention] against them.’[70] Two years later, his opinion had not improved. They were ‘stealthy and cunning pulling all the strings behind the scenes to get us involved in war with Germany’;[71] surely a display of paranoia similar in scope to that of Stalin’s by any account. Despite these antipathies towards the Soviet Union, the British, even as early as 1935, were unwilling to foster any form of rapprochement with the Soviets for fear that it would jeopardise Anglo-German relations.[72] The value of rapprochement was also undermined by the image of the purges that took place from 1936 to 1938 that appeared routinely in the British press.[73] Despite historical opinion remaining divided as to the causes and effects of the purges,[74] they were seen as a significant weakening of the Red Army, and watched with interest in Berlin as well as in London.[75] The reason for the failure of the Anglo-Franco-Soviet negotiations after May 1939 was not due to the weakening effect of the purges; they failed for political reasons.[76]

The difficulty with interpreting Soviet policy, as Geoffrey Roberts has shown, is that if Stalin did want an agreement with London and Paris right up until the middle of August, then Soviet policy was irrational. ‘Information coming from Soviet embassies was often based more on views prevalent in sympathetic opposition circles than on what government policy actually was.’ Thus Stalin’s expectation of Anglo-French policy in terms of an attempt to direct German expansionism eastwards was not based on good intelligence. Stalin perceived British and French leaders as ‘being incomparably motivated by anti-Bolshevism [which] was completely off-beam.’[77] Furthermore, Britain and France, after sending a figure that the Soviets viewed with humour, without the least appearance of haste or importance, were, as Stalin saw it, expecting him to commit to war without any reasonable return.[78] By comparison, when Ribbentrop arrived, Stalin was able to extract a significant amount of territory that greatly suited his security designs.[79] The territories demanded of Ribbentrop were similar in scope to those, it was later claimed, were necessary for Soviet security.

Yet, there is substantial room for the suspicion that Stalin did not keep all his chestnuts in one basket. The machinations of Molotov and Zhdanov would not have occurred without Stalin’s sanction. Likewise, the ‘infamous encounter’ of Merekalov and Weizsäcker of 17 April would not have occurred had it not been in line with Stalin’s intentions. Given that Germany had spurned numerous Soviet approaches throughout the 1930s, Merekalov’s subtlety is understandable. Having dispensed with the almost unimportant discussion concerning the fulfilment of orders from the now German controlled Skoda factory in Czechoslovakia, Merekalov took the opportunity to close the discussion by signalling Soviet intentions not to exploit tension between Germany and the Western nations. He added (in Weizsäcker’s words):

‘There exists for Russia no reason why she should not live with us on a normal footing. And from normal, relations might become better and better.’[80]

Whereas Roberts is keen to dismiss this encounter,[81] other historians read significance into them. Although the ‘encounter’ was not followed up as the Soviets might have wished, it did signal to the Nazis the plausibility of drawing the Soviets into their sphere.[82] Hitler’s response came in his address to the Reichstag (less than a fortnight later) on 28 April in a speech devoid of any anti-Soviet outburst. Compared with the British Government’s continued vacillation towards the Soviet Union (a message to this effect was received on 3 May),[83] the German’s at this point looked the more promising and serious partner.

Stalin took decisive action in removing all Jews from the Narkomindel. Litvinov was the prime target, being replaced by pro-German (‘Iron-Arse’) Molotov; he remained ‘amongst the living only by chance’.[84] Not only was Litvinov the main proponent of collective security, he was its public face; his removal was, at once, both necessary for diplomatic manoeuvrability as well as symbolic. The Germans were pleased not be forced into negotiation with a Jew and the Western Powers were shaken into action.[85] But the actions of Poland inhibited the western approaches and thus helped sway Stalin towards Hitler. On 17 April (the same day that Merekalov met with Weizsäcker), the Soviets offered to sign an alliance with the Western Powers that would guarantee the integrity of all Eastern European states ‘between the Black Sea and the Baltic.’[86] Despite Britain’s continued distrust of Stalin, Poland refused to sign any agreement that included the Soviets. They refused on two counts. Primarily, of their two powerful neighbours they held more contempt for the Soviet Union than for Nazi Germany.[87] Secondly, there was the fear that any attempt to ally themselves with the ‘Russian bear’ would provoke Germany yet further.[88] Despite strong pressure from Britain and France throughout the summer, the Poles remained intransigent. When Drax opened negotiations with Klim Voroshilov the issue proved incisive from the beginning.[89]
If Polish-Soviet relations played an important role in the formation of the Nazi-Soviet Pact, then Soviet relations with Japan played a more decisive role. In May, Japanese forces occupied Mongolian territory on the Soviet border and began planning further aggressive action. Members of the Kwantung Army reasoned that the Soviets would be altogether unwilling to become involved in a major battle whilst pre-occupied by events in Europe. After crossing the border in July, the Japanese were engaged by the Soviets until September.[90] Whilst the fighting in the East did not evolve into a major war, and the Japanese were ultimately repulsed (possibly having lost heart after the German rapprochement with the Soviets), it remained pertinent to Stalin’s thinking. By siding with the Nazis, Stalin was able to stiffen his eastern flank by avoiding war, for the time being, in the west.


The reasons why the development of Hitler’s aggressive ambitions after the Munich agreement compelled him to offer a deal to Stalin and why Stalin responded positively can be summarised briefly. On the most superficial level, the three ‘poker players’ each faced the potential of war on two fronts. Despite questions having been raised about a Soviet pre-emptive strike against Germany,[91] only Germany was in control of events. Hitler’s aggressive ambitions against Poland created the need for defensive security pacts such as were unattractive to all three major players. Mutual distrust was balanced by security requirements and the need to avoid major conflict – especially if that was to occur on two fronts. When Chamberlain referred to the Pact as ‘Russian treachery’, he astutely noticed a miscalculation in Hitler’s scheme. Whilst being ‘certain’ that Italy would not join Hitler in a war over Poland, Chamberlain noted that Japan’s shock at the Pact meant that Britain ‘may find [her] anxieties … greatly relieved if not removed.’[92] For the next two years, he was correct. Japan’s eventual entry into the war would, with a degree of uncertainty at first, bring the means of defeating Germany on the western front: the United States.
On a less superficial level, Hitler’s ‘defeat’ at Munich clearly radicalised his foreign policy. This radicalisation, exemplified most easily by Ribbentrop’s ascendancy, also had devastating domestic implications. The ‘Aryanisation’ of the German economy, initiated on 14 October 1938 by Göring (and ably supported by Joseph Goebbels), manifested itself in the ‘spontaneous’ spoliation of Jewish property and violent attacks on Jewish people – now known by the ridiculous euphemism: Kristallnacht (Crystal-night or Night of the Broken Glass) – which reached its peak on 9 and 10 November.[93] Ironically, this radicalisation resulted in ‘the systematic, bureaucratic process preferred by Goring and Himmler’ that would ultimately lead to the extermination of millions of Europe’s Jews.[94] In their determination to have war, and within this freshly radicalised atmosphere, the Nazi hierarchy did not balk at openly consorting with the hated Bolsheviks. And thus, a deal was offered. It is more chilling that it was accepted through cold and steely calculation.