Public opinion, the press and the failed Anglo-Franco-Soviet negotiations of 1939

ABSTRACT For nearly 80 years, historians have debated whether the western powers or the USSR should be blamed for the failure of the Anglo-Franco-Soviet negotiations in 1939. This rather tired debate features here, but only in the background. Instead, these negotiations provide a case study for exploring the interface between the press, public opinion, and foreign policymaking, identifying an example of how policymakers’ perceptions of popular opinion wielded a tangible impact on diplomacy. The article will show that, from late April through to early June 1939, British and French public opinion, as mediated by the press, demanded a ‘Grand Alliance’. The popular pressure needed to facilitate a Soviet alliance was in place, and, combined with broader diplomatic and strategic imperatives, nearly delivered one. Perceptions of public opinion also help explain why this alliance remained elusive. Emboldened by their own readings of western newspapers, the USSR increased their demands, confident that domestic pressures would compel London and Paris to yield. But this was a fatal miscalculation. From mid-June, Western opinion turned against Moscow, and familiar anti-Soviet tropes resurfaced. By charting this evolution in public sentiment, this article provides a fresh perspective on the factors contributing to the failure of these negotiations.

was, he suggests, simply no likelihood of success, as Moscow's price for an alliancea Soviet sphere of influence in eastern Europealways exceeded what the west (notably London) was willing to pay. 5 Agreeing with Bell that looking to attribute blame for the failed negotiations is unhelpful, this article differs in not sharing his fatalistic view of the talks as doomed to failure. It will be suggested instead that the west came very close to accepting Moscow's price, and that public opinionas mediated by the popular pressplayed a crucial role in pushing the British and French governments towards a position of acceptance.
Across all analyses, irrespective of where blame is apportioned, the impact of western public opinion recurs frequently if peripherally. Numerous historians highlight how British opinion polls and press commentary dovetailed with French pressure and the spectre of a Russo-German accommodation to enhance the allure of a Soviet alliance. 6 Others, identifying a parallel clamour for an alliance in France, contend that French public opinion hardened against the fascist dictatorships in the months following the Munich settlement. 7 But the precise influence of public opinion on British and French policy towards the Anglo-Franco-Soviet discussions in 1939 merits closer scrutiny because this was a rare example of it wielding a tangible influence on policymakers. This article offers a detailed analysis of the British and French press during the spring and summer of 1939, partially recreating the atmosphere in which policymakers contemplated an alliance, and thus the extent to which elite perceptions of popular opinion affected their decisions. Press support for a peace front inclusive of Russia, though never unanimous, peaked from mid-April to early June 1939. In combination with other factors, favourable press coverage afforded London and Paris the necessary latitude to offer Moscow concessions that could potentially facilitate an alliance. However, this enthusiasm was ephemeral and ultimately counterproductive. It emboldened Moscow, encouraging them to raise their demands, which in turn antagonised the British and French governments and reignited latent right-wing opposition. Thereafter, the Soviet and western positions grew further apart, and elite understandings of public opinion would never again be powerful enough to persuade reluctant politicians to change tack.
The press, public opinion and policymaking This article will first trace the evolution of public opinion, as perceived and understood by the decision-making elites, during spring and summer 1939. The analysis will use indicators of public opinion relied upon by contemporaries, principally the printed press. French and British newspapers of all political shades are considered, as political and diplomatic elites (notably the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, and his French counterpart, Edouard Daladier) were attentive to newspaper commentary. Although a broad crosssection of newspapers is surveyed, emphasis is focused on those tendencies of press opinion that most concerned the respective Premiers. Daladier was particularly alert to potential discontent on the political left, especially given his recent efforts to steer France away from the experiment of the Popular Front era. 8 Chamberlain, by contrast, was unperturbed by leftist critiques but was troubled by indications of dissent in conservative circles. 9 The following analysis will also prioritise editorials and articles penned by prominent individuals, as these warranted the most attention. The apparent readership habits of the elites will also be echoed here, focusing on the prominent daily newspapers emanating from London and Paris, although prominent provincial papers are not excluded entirely. Finally, the analysis will focus on press commentary from mid-April to early June, when discussion of the negotiations spiked and, crucially, when a degree of unanimity was most apparent.
Although a reading of the press is an imperfect mechanism for gauging genuine public opinion, it is useful when gauging elite perceptions of the popular mood. After all, if one is interested in the interface between public opinion and policymaking, public opinion as it was matters less than public opinion as it was understood in policymaking circles. The surviving archival record in Britain and France suggests that elite perceptions of public opinion relied heavily on the press. Opinion polling was a new phenomenon, arriving in Britain in 1937 and in France the following year. Several early polls conducted by the British Institute of Public Opinion (BIPO) were published in the News Chronicle and provided some ammunition for the anti-appeasers, but the majority of the British elite viewed polls with suspicion, often dismissing their practitioners as leftist cranks in the mould of Mass Observation. 10 In France, the early polls commissioned by the Institut français d'opinion publique (IFOP) barely featured in the papers and seemingly left no impression in policymaking circles. 11 Indeed, other than infrequent allusions to 'the man in the street' in official and private correspondence, and beyond opaque references to 'public opinion' in parliamentary debates, historians ascertaining elite conceptions of public opinion have little to work with other than the popular press. Chamberlain was certainly sensitive to press commentary, and his diary letters reveal a particular attentiveness to comments in conservative papers like The Times and The Daily Telegraph. Given his secure parliamentary position, he could afford to be less troubled by critiques in leftist or liberal publications. The official opposition was weak; the Liberals lacked numbers and influence, while the Labour Party suffered from internal division and discord. Being able to shrug off leftist criticism was not a luxury afforded to Daladier. Although one of the architects of the Front populaire, he had provoked the ire of the political left since becoming President of the Council for the third time in April 1938. Intent on initiating a French redressement, he risked reneging on such sacred policies as the 40-hour week, leading critics to label him the fossoyeur of the Popular Front. 12 Indeed, the Socialist and Communist press routinely criticised Daladier during summer 1938, and the sizeable dossier of press cuttings preserved in his personal papers brims with extracts from leftist newspapers, indicating his concerns. Such critiques contributed to Daladier's refusal to celebrate the Munich accords as a triumph, in stark contrast to Chamberlain who revelled in his personal triumph. While Munich encouraged Chamberlain to pursue appeasement further, Daladier steered a different course, and his firm rejection of Italian territorial demands in the winter was approved with near-unanimity in French papers. Indeed, France's gravitation towards a foreign policy of firmness rather than capitulation provided a rare source of cross-party unity, vital as Daladier pressed ahead with domestic reforms that continued to prompt Socialist and Communist ire. Once Germany occupied Czechoslovakia in March 1939, the French public's appetite for resistance appeared undiminished, and Daladier's resolute response to Hitler's latest coup again met with widespread public approval.
Chamberlain's response to the Prague coup was lacklustre in comparison. His initial refusal to admit the failure of his Munich policy provoked widespread public and parliamentary dissatisfaction, compelling him to adopt more forceful rhetoric and policies thereafter, notably the guarantee of Poland against German aggression. 13 A key component in an emergent 'dam in the east' was Soviet Russia, so after the Prague coup the creation of an Anglo-Franco-Soviet 'Grand Alliance' was contemplated more seriously. For both Chamberlain and Daladier the stakes were high. Chamberlain was instinctively hostile to the USSR for ideological reasons, but he also feared that a Soviet pact would preclude the further appeasement of Germany or Italy. Daladier was conscious that the troublesome left would demand such an alliance, but he was also mindful that the French political righton which he relied for parliamentary supportfound the prospect inherently troubling. 14 Anti-Soviet sentiment remained a constant if fluctuating factor in both democratic countries, but, where Daladier risked ignoring it in deference to the perceived strategic benefits, Chamberlain saw it as confirmation that his own scepticism was justified. 15 Whether Chamberlain was accurate in his reading of British public attitudes towards the USSR is questionable. After all, given the elusive nature of public opinion it is difficult for any policymaker to gauge accurately what their public wants. In his study of public opinion and Anglo-Soviet relations during the Second World War, P.M.H. Bell notes how policymakers used various mechanisms for gauging the public mood. On the one hand, the wartime Ministry of Information made use of Gallup opinion polls, Mass Observation data, and BBC audience monitoring reports. On the other, policymakers continued to fall back on existing, pre-war mechanisms, notably Parliamentary discussion, views expressed by pressure groups, and press commentary. 16 When considering public opinion's influence prior to the outbreak of war, the latter are pivotal and represent three of the four categories of public opinion identified by Bell: first, parliament was an echo chamber for 'political opinion'; second, pressure groups, trade unions, and party activists represented a broader 'political nation'; and third, the pressnewspapers primarily, but also the radio and cinemarepresented the 'mass media' and its ambiguous role as both a reflector and a shaper of public opinion. Bell labelled his fourth category 'public opinion tout court, or mass opinion', a more amorphous and all-encompassing entity that is difficult to identify even with the aid of the most rigorous and sophisticated polling techniques. 17 This problematic fourth kind of opinion was recognised by policymakers, but its resistance to definition left it vulnerable to misrepresentation. Simply put, opinion tout court could be whatever one wantedor assumedit to be. Regarding the Soviet negotiations in 1939, Daladier believed that mass opinion wanted an alliance despite the vocal protestations of the anti-Bolshevik right wing. Chamberlain, however, constantly sought, and received willingly, indications that mass opinion shared his hostility to a pact, even as pro-alliance voices proliferated in the press, in Parliament, and even within the Cabinet. The press demand thus coincided with an intensifying clamour from other indicators of opinion. In London and Paris, fears of a potential Nazi-Soviet rapprochement led the Foreign Office and the Quai d'Orsay to advocate a Soviet alliance with more urgency. The broader 'political nation' also appeared willing to embrace Russian assistance. In France, the Socialists and Communists were predictably vocal in their advocacy of a pact, and even sections of the right allowed pragmatism to override ideological scruples. In Britain, substantial sections of Conservative opinion, not least the troublesome 'Glamour Boys', was also inclined to put ideology aside given the urgency of combating the Nazi menacesupportive of a Russian alliance, even on terms more favourable to Moscow than the west.

Press commentary on the negotiations
Press commentary prior to 1939 reflected strains in Anglo-Soviet relations evident since the Russian Revolution of 1917. Beyond the Moscow-funded journals of the extreme-left, the USSR featured rarely in British newspapers, and when it did the coverage was often disparaging. 18 France's relations with Russia were similarly frosty. The French right routinely bemoaned Moscow's pernicious influence on domestic politics, whilst fevered debates about the Franco-Soviet Pact of 1935 revealed the persistent ideological schisms induced by any potential association with Moscow. 19 The USSR's absence from the Munich Conference in September 1938 illustrated further how London and Paris saw little advantage in aligning with Soviet Russia, the western governments convinced that Stalin's purges had destroyed the Red Army's ability to intervene effectively on behalf of Czechoslovakia. 20 In addition, the right wing press in France warned consistently that Moscow sought a general European conflict to further their revolutionary ends: Le Temps argued that the Communists 'wanted an ideological war' in Europe and a 'social war' in France. 21 In Britain, where the internal communist threat was negligible, outspoken criticism of Russia was less prominent, and some left-leaning and liberal papers actually questioned the marginalisation of Russia during the Sudeten crisis. 22 Such comments, however, were uncommon, and overall press commentary on Soviet Russia was scarce.
Just as Britain and France harboured longstanding suspicions of the USSR, so too was the Soviet leadership prejudiced against the west. Although Foreign Minister Maxim Litvinov had advocated collective security since the mid-1930s, many in Moscow suspected the western powers of trying to embroil Russia into an imperialist war. In an oft-quoted speech of 10 March 1939, Stalin warned that the USSR was unwilling to pull the west's 'chestnuts out of the fire' by fighting Nazi Germany on their behalf. 23 Even after Prague, a sceptical Soviet Union questioned how far the western democracies had substituted firmness for appeasement. Some historians consider this scepticism to be justified given the west's proclivity for ostracising Russia, Michael Carley equating French and British suspicions of Moscow's integrity to 'Mr. Pot calling Comrade Kettle black'. 24 To be sure, London's post-Prague firmness could be interpreted less as a change of policy than an adaptation of strategy. As Geoffrey Hicks suggests, the Poland guarantee was 'the very antithesis' of a Churchillian 'Grand Alliance': a defensive and intentionally unprovocative move designed to facilitate further acts of appeasement. It also had the fortuitous sideeffect of avoiding what many Conservatives abhorredan alignment with Moscow. 25 Nevertheless, attitudes had started to shift. Rumours abounded in early 1939 that Hitler might unleash a knock-out blow in the west before turning his attention eastwards, prompting the British Foreign Secretary, Lord Halifax, to tell the Cabinet that 'closer relations with Russia' were desirable. 26 A formal alliance was contemplated even more seriously after Germany's seizure of Czechoslovakia, an event that generated an unprecedented level of press interest. Newspaper coverage of the USSR was infrequent before 1939, and Claire Knight has suggested recently that 'sporadic' coverage in the British press remained the norm throughout the triple alliance negotiations. 27 However, closer scrutiny of a broad cross-section of newspapers demonstrates that the Soviet Union featured more prominently once formal discussions with Moscow were initiated after the Prague coup. 28 Furthermore, impatience was apparent from the outset: France's Ambassador at London, Charles Corbin, noted as early as 24 March that British newspapers bemoaned the lack of 'tangible results' from the negotiations. 29 The Soviet discussions also assumed a prominent place in the French press; Socialist and Communist papers condemned the apparent lethargy of their government. The Socialist former Premier, L eon Blum was one of several journalists to observe disapprovingly that Paris took a back seat while the British took the initiative. 30 Such criticism was not confined to the more militant left; former Foreign Minister Yvon Delbos wrote in Paris-Soir that, unlike Paris, London had overcome its 'ideological hostility', whilst Pierre Dominique, in the Radical La R epublique, argued that the French government must similarly resist the temptation to blur 'domestic and international questions'. 31 However, the political right retained an instinctive antibolshevism. L eon Bailby emphasised the Soviet threat, accusing Moscow of indulging in 'corruption and blackmail' to influence French politicians and revive the Popular Front. 32 The conservative British press was dismissive of a Soviet pact for different reasons. The isolationist Daily Express deplored the new policy direction that amounted to 'the encirclement of Germany'. 33 Elsewhere, however, support for an alliance gathered momentum. The Manchester Guardian maintained that 'Russia, whatever the differences of opinion about her, stands against aggression', while the Sunday Times warned that it would be 'the height of folly to disdain the help of Russia because we dislike her domestic policy'. 34 Unsurprisingly, an alliance was also advocated on the political left, where suspicion of Chamberlain's commitment to the negotiations was rife. 35 The Daily Herald claimed that public opinion was 'disturbed' by suggestions that the British Government was deliberately obstructing an arrangement with Moscow. 36 A similar note was struck by sections of the French press. L eon Blum insisted that any obstacles must be overcome in pursuit of the 'immediate and intimate binding of all the powers determined to preserve peace'. 37 The necessity of a pact was also acknowledged by some on the political right. The conservative deputy and journalist, Henri de K erillis, was adamant that the pledges already undertaken could only be upheld with Soviet assistance, while the Paris-Midi put matters bluntly: 'We must look at things squarely. If one considers Hitler as the number one danger for Europe in 1939, use must be made of all means at our disposal'. 38 But there was still no unanimity, because right wing support for an alliance was uncommon. Several publications emphasised repeatedly the dangers of domestic communism and warned that the interior menace posed by bolshevism demanded vigilance. Cautioning against a Franco-Soviet alignment, Bailby predicted that Moscow sought 'by a thousand insidious means to induce us into an ideological war, marked with the most terrible risks'. 39 In Britain, meanwhile, the conservative press began to acknowledge a public desire for a pact. The Daily Telegraph suggested that it would 'be approved by an overwhelming mass of British opinion', and even the more reticent Daily Mail conceded that an alliance should not be rejected 'without the deepest consideration'. Nevertheless, where French caution stemmed from the potential impact on domestic politics, British reservations were predicated on the potentially deleterious diplomatic repercussions. As the Daily Mail's editorial continued, a Russian pact would preclude the securing of better relations with Italy, Spain, and Japan, even pushing these powers into Germany's orbit. 40 For proalliance papers, such concerns were considered insufficient justification for stalling. 'The task of creating and cementing an alliance with Russia should now be made the first imperative duty of the British Government', argued the News Chronicle: 'Delay will be unforgivable'. 41 A further reason to lament the delays came on 4 May when Stalin dismissed the relatively pro-western Litvinov from the Narkomindel, replacing him with the more quiescent Viacheslav Molotov. In France, Blum feared that this change marked a Soviet retreat into isolationism; the Intransigeant noted that it did not make 'Anglo-Soviet conversations any easier', and the Petit Parisien saw it as a sign of Stalin's determination to take personal control of Soviet diplomacy. 42 A more cynical appraisal was provided by Wladimir d'Ormesson in Le Figaro, who accused the USSR of pursuing 'three policies at once', creating a labyrinth in which only the Soviets knew where they stood. 43 In Britain, the Evening Standard evoked the more troubling prospect of a German-Soviet accommodation: 'We may yet see the German lion and the Russian lamb lie down together'. 44 Despite the unease, the change at the Narkomindel did not cause any immediate or significant change in Moscow's approach to the talks. The Daily Mail reassured its readers that fears of a Soviet retreat into isolation 'are proving to be unfounded', and the Daily Telegraph proclaimed confidently that Litvinov's dismissal 'does not portend any departure by the Russian Government from their general policy of collaboration'. 45 Nonetheless, rumours of a German-Soviet rapprochement, combined with the German-Italian Pact of Steel (22 May), made the construction of a peace front more urgent, hence growing unease at the faltering negotiations. Most British newspapers urged the rapid conclusion of an alliance, including the Daily Express. 'It is plain', noted an editorial, 'that the people want a military alliance with Russia, and are disturbed at the delay in getting it'. 46 Seeking to bend intransigent ministers to their will, several newspapers, notably those owned by the hitherto isolationist Lord Beaverbrook, explicitly evoked public opinion. The Evening Standard contended that people favoured 'a firm alliance' with the USSR, and the Daily Express claimed that Britain was a country of 'forty-seven million foreign secretaries' whose voices would ultimately prevail. 47 Such arguments were echoed on the left, the Daily Herald stating that no democratic government can 'stand against public opinion' and the Daily Worker adamant that the British public 'demanded an Anglo-Soviet Pact'. Advocates of a triple alliance in France struck a similar chord, Ce Soir warning that the British public would despair should their government fail to secure an agreement. 48 While the British press became more sympathetic to a Soviet alliance, French newspapers remained divided. Many on the right continued to indulge in vitriolic anti-Soviet rhetoric, and it was argued repeatedly that French caution was justified by the domestic threat of communism. The Intransigeant, whilst acknowledging that a Russian pact was diplomatically 'desirable', warned that it might provoke serious domestic disturbances in France, a side effect that did not trouble Britain where communism has 'no chance' of taking hold. 49 The suggestion that the marginal communist presence in Britain afforded London greater diplomatic latitude was articulated freely. The Journal des d ebats noted that the size of the Parti communiste français (PCF) rendered the negotiations 'more delicate' for Paris than they were for London, an argument echoed by Jean Fabry in Le Matin in early June. 50 As a result, press support for an alliance was less widespread in France, and dissenting voices were certainly vented more frequently. A demand existed nonetheless, and was expressed in predictably raucous terms on the political left. 51 There was considerable unease at the failure to conclude an alliance with anger directed increasingly at the western governments. Residual hostility to Soviet Russia had weakened, and there was a willingness, even a determination, to finalise a pact at almost any price.
By early June, however, the public's support for a pact began to dissipate. A tendency emerged in British and French newspapers blaming the delays on Moscow rather than London or Paris. As old themes of Soviet duplicity and dishonesty resurfaced, the chances of securing a 'Grand Alliance' dwindled rapidly. Even newspapers that had previously embraced a Russian pact now began to stress that Russia's absence from the 'peace front' was more detrimental to the USSR than it was for France and Britain. 52 To be sure, the British government's effort to expedite proceedings by sending a plenipotentiary to Moscow was criticised in some quarters, where it was anticipated correctly that the Soviets would resent the decision to send a little-known official, William Strang, rather than a more senior person, such as Halifax or his predecessor as Foreign Secretary, Anthony Eden. 53 But press patience with the USSR was starting to diminish. The Daily Telegraph openly challenged the widespread assumption that the western governments were responsible for the delays, instead pointing towards a 'lack of mutual confidence' that afflicted both sides, a position echoed in France by the Petit Parisien. 54 Others went further; the Daily Express asserted that the 'fault is on the side of the Russian Government'; Le Figaro castigated the 'abominable' manners of Soviet diplomats; and Pierre Bernus warned that the unscrupulous Stalin must be treated with caution. 55 The two newspapers widely regarded as quasi-official mouthpieces for their respective governments -The Times and Le Tempsmaintained a guarded optimism, although the latter notably ran an editorial seeking to convince its readers that 'Soviet collaboration' was by no means indispensable. 56 Beyond the Soviet-funded publications, the most notable pro-alliance press articles were those penned by prominent politicians. Such articles were more conspicuous in France, suggesting that anti-Soviet sentiment was recognised as being more problematic there than in Britain. Winston Churchill assured readers of Paris-Soir that ideological hostility towards the USSR no longer blinded either British or French public opinion to the 'harmony of interests' that made an Anglo-Franco-Soviet arrangement essential. In the same newspaper, Yvon Delbos insisted that existing obligations to Poland and Romania rendered an alliance essential. 57 Despite such arguments, anti-Russian press commentary increased through June and elicited a response from Moscow. Rebutting accusations of Soviet chicanery, an inflammatory article written by the USSR's propaganda chief, Andrei Zhdanov, appeared in Pravda on 29 June, faithfully reproduced by the Humanit e in France and the Daily Worker in Britain. The article accused London and Paris of lacking goodwill, and claimed that the western powers blamed Soviet 'obstinacy' for the failure to secure a triple alliance so as to 'prepare their own public opinion for an eventual deal with the aggressors'. 58 The Pravda article was certainly a rejoinder to an emergent theme in western papers, but it would be erroneous to suggest that the British and French press were suddenly brimming with overtly anti-Soviet rhetoric. The biggest shift in press commentary in early summer 1939 was a change in focus rather than tone. By July, the press fixated squarely on the tensions surrounding Danzig at the expense of meaningful discussion of the Moscow talks. Instead, most newspapers simply published short and infrequent updates, usually couched in cautious optimism. In France, La Croix reported 'favourable' progress, and the Petit Parisien stated that the British Cabinet, swayed by public opinion, was now willing to work with the French to deliver a Soviet alliance. 59 In Britain, an Evening Standard editorial of 4 July even claimed prematurely that Britain and the USSR had 'come to terms', the Russians having 'won their case'. There were still glimpses in the right wing press of overt anti-Soviet sentiment, especially in France, 60 but the dampening enthusiasm for a Soviet alliance was attributable chiefly to this topic's occupying fewer column inches than before.
Even in early August, as Paris and London prepared to send delegations to Moscow to discuss a military pact, most newspapers remained confident that the slow but steady negotiations would bear fruit. 61 Left-leaning papers occasionally chastised the western governments' temporising, but the overall tone was one of optimism regarding the eventual outcome. 62 In this context, news of Ribbentrop's imminent trip to Moscow came as a shock. British and French newspaper responses to the Ribbentrop-Molotov Pact followed predictable ideological trajectories. The Communist-inspired press adhered faithfully to Moscow's line, presenting the pact as a genuine peace move. 63 The moderate left expressed confused bewilderment but offered little justification for Stalin's actions. Similar appraisals were prominent in centrist and liberal newspapers, especially after the full details of the agreement emerged. 64 For the French right, the pact was bitter confirmation of what they had always suspected -Soviet Russia was duplicitous, untrustworthy, and looking to foment a worldwide Bolshevik revolution. St ephane Lauzanne, in Le Matin, wrote: 'It was fate, certain and inevitable. The laws of nature are always thus. As the horse gallops, as the bird flies, as the fish swims, so the Russian Bolshevik betrays. He has duplicity in his blood, and no treatment will ever cure it'. 65 Elsewhere, Wladimir d'Ormesson viewed recent events as confirmation that Moscow was pursuing 'three policies at once'; La Croix reminded its readers of Brest-Litovsk, and the Journal des d ebats accused the Soviets of acting with their habitual lack of grace. 66 In Britain, the conservative press focused on the solid Franco-British alliance and a determination to uphold those eastern alliances already undertaken, but a residual tone of anti-Soviet sentiment permeated most analyses. 67 Anti-Soviet sentiment had never been far from the surface, and the rapid re-emergence of familiar tropes appeared to vindicate the west's hesitancy throughout the negotiations. This ideological hostility had, nevertheless, been marginalised just weeks earlier, providing a fleeting but very real opportunity to secure a Triple Alliance. This missed opportunity requires a closer examination of how far the pressas a perceived conduit of public opinioncould influence foreign policy during this frenetic period.

Press commentary, public opinion and their impact on policy
The preceding overview of the evolution of British and French press commentary during the Anglo-Franco-Soviet negotiations provides the backdrop for assessing its impact on foreign policy decision-makers. In the immediate aftermath of the Prague coup, the Soviet Ambassador at London, Ivan Maisky, noted that 'the [British] public's mood is rapidly hardening' against Germany, a disconnect emerging between a Prime Minister wedded to appeasement and a public fatigued by Nazi bellicosity. 68 This disconnect was echoed in parliamentary circles, where left wing accusations of governmental procrastination induced Chamberlain to meet Labour leaders on 24 March to explain 'that we weren't cold-shouldering Russiait was the misgivings of Poland and others'. 69 In France, the public's appetite for a firm response to the dictators had only intensified after Prague. Daladier's chef du cabinet, Roger Genebrier, recalled how French public opinion, having 'become conscious of the inexorable march towards war', was now prepared to sanction an alliance hitherto considered unpalatable. 70 But although widespread, support for a pact was not unanimous. Indeed, the tepid response of French newspapers, especially when compared to the chorus of pro-alliance voices emerging in the British press, helps explain why Paris allowed London to take the early initiative in the formal negotiations.
Growing press interest in a pact was echoed in Parliament, increasing the pressure on the Prime Minister. When interrogated in the Commons, Chamberlain insisted that he was not animated by ideological aversion, and that 'we welcome the co-operation of any country, whatever may be its internal system of government'. 71 Suspicion of the Prime Minister lingered, and several Conservative dissidents vocally endorsed a Soviet pact, including Churchill who told the Commons that 'Russia is a ponderous counterpoise in the scale of world peace'. 72 Similarly, the Home Secretary, Sir John Simon, noted that the absence of an agreement 'would be regarded in many quarters as a considerable defeat for our policy', and even Chamberlain acknowledged that a 'failure to associate with Soviet Russia would give rise to suspicion and difficulty with the Left Wing both in this country and in France'. 73 There were even explicit calls in the press for a Cabinet re-shuffle. 74 Maisky also noted the fevered press interest in the Soviet negotiations. Having been summoned to Moscow for talks in mid-April, he commented that the British press made 'a first-class sensation out of my trip', his embassy being inundated with requests for information. Maisky intimated further that this press interest was mirrored in governmental circles. 'The British Government seems greatly concerned about my being summoned to Moscow', he recorded, 'and wants to convince me … of its sincere wish to work together with us on the establishment of a peace front'. 75 Nevertheless, Cabinet enthusiasm for a Soviet alliance remained lukewarm. When Litvinov forwarded Moscow's counter-proposals on 18 April, London's reaction was decidedly cool. The demand for a simultaneous political and military agreement caused longstanding British scepticism regarding Soviet military capabilities to resurface. 76 But political opponents of a Soviet alliance ran counter to the prevailing direction of popular and press opinion which increasingly demanded an alliance. The French government also vented frustration at the lack of results and demanded an injection of urgency. 77 As Daladier recalled, France was keen for an agreement to be reached, and accordingly 'exercised friendly pressure on Britain'. 78 This pressure did not sit comfortably with French critics of a Soviet pact, especially on the extreme right. For the Action Française, the French government must 'assume a heavy responsibility' for joining the chorus of voices urging Chamberlain to overcome his reservations. 79 Paris was, nonetheless, more inclined to accept Moscow's demands than were the British. Even the pro-appeasement Bonnet toed the government line, telling the Soviet Ambassador at Paris, Iakov Surits, that France would welcome a tripartite mutual assistance pact. 80 Bonnet's comments fed Moscow's belief that the democracies would concede to their demands, a conviction nourished by western press commentary. Maisky was persuaded that even the most fervent British appeasers would succumb, press commentary and parliamentary unrest combining to force the Prime Minister's hand. 81 Chamberlain was not impervious to pressure, and in Cabinet discussions on 5 May he acknowledged that public opinion would despair should the Soviet proposals be rejected. 82 French discontent was also expressed more freely, Bonnet stating plainly that Paris's proposal for a tripartite agreement 'was preferable' to the more complicated arrangement favoured by London. 83 British policymakers were in a bind: on the one hand, they feared that robust agreements with Moscow would antagonise Hitler and prevent the detachment of Italy from the Axis; on the other, procrastination alienated not only Paris but also considerable sections of domestic opinion. 84 A persistent fear also existed that the lack of a Russian pact would leave the door ajar for Berlin to make its own arrangement with Moscow. Stalin's dismissal of Litvinov exacerbated this fear. Despite assurances from Maisky that Moscow's attitude remained unchanged, Halifax's private secretary, Oliver Harvey, suspected that 'it may mean a Russo-German rapprochement'. 85 London hesitated nonetheless, and finally rejected Moscow's 18 April proposals on 13 May. Committing wholeheartedly to a triple alliance, and thus closing the door on further acts of appeasement, remained a step too far for many in Whitehall. The degree of London's attachment to the Munich policy loomed large in Ambassador Maisky's mind, and on 9 May he commented that The Times had raised the possibility of further appeasement. 86 Soviet confidence in France was also shaken, Marcel D eat's infamous 'Mourir pour Dantzig' article, published in l'OEuvre on 4 May, casting doubt on the French people's determination to uphold their obligations in eastern Europe. Worried that mutual distrust was clouding the negotiations, Bonnet took the initiative by urging London 'to assure, without further delay, a favourable conclusion to the Russian negotiations'. 87 Despite lingering suspicions, by late May public pressure dovetailed with other factors (fears of a Soviet-German rapprochement, the Chiefs of Staff expressing support for a pact, more vocal and insistent French pressure), to persuade the Cabinet to pursue a Soviet alliance with more energy. Although committed supporters of Chamberlain's appeasement policy like the Conservative M.P. Henry 'Chips' Channon resented the apparent change in direction (describing it as the 'pet scheme of the leftist clique in the Foreign Office' 88 ), political support for an alliance was becoming widespread. Chamberlain, remarked Halifax, 'was very reluctant to agree to a full tripartite alliance [but] many in the Cabinet favoured it'. 89 On 21 May, the Prime Minister himself acknowledged that several Cabinet colleagues, who had hitherto opposed an alliance 'now appear to have swung toward the opposite view'. 90 Litvinov's dismissal did little to dampen pro-alliance sentiment in Britain; the appetite had only intensified. For Maisky, the British government was 'in a tight spot' given that the British press presented Moscow's demands favourably and in a manner that appealed to ordinary people. '[W]ere the Anglo-Soviet argument over the terms and conditions of agreement to be judged by the British public', he noted, 'Chamberlain would most definitely lose'. 91 If Chamberlain was becoming isolated in Britain, so too were the resolutely anti-Soviet sections of rightist opinion in France. 92 When Daladier told the Chamber on 11 May that 'we consider the participation of the USSR as essential and desirable', he could be confident that the majority of deputies concurred. 93 Unlike Chamberlain, the French Premier encountered little resistance, only the Communists consistently questioning his commitment to an alliance, and even then the pro-appeasement Bonnet usually acted as a lightning rod. 94 Daladier's determination to secure a pact was not merely for public consumption, as he began to articulate his frustrations to the British more vigorously. After presenting Halifax with a draft tripartite agreement in Geneva on 21 May, he expressed astonishment at the latter's reservations, insisting that Moscow would not 'accept anything less'. 95 Jean-Baptiste Duroselle contends that the pressure exerted on Halifax had an impact, as the British government would, by the end of May, eventually accept a tripartite formula. 96 French pressure undoubtedly contributed, but it was only when fused with domestic factors in Britain that Chamberlain softened his resistance. According to Sir Alexander Cadogan, Permanent Under-Secretary at the Foreign Office, Chamberlain's position regarding a Soviet alliance evolved from adamant opposition on 20 May to reluctant acceptance just four days later, when Moscow learned that the British government was willing to accept a tripartite agreement of mutual assistance. 97 Crucially, however, Britain's acceptance contained what Chamberlain considered 'a most ingenious' caveat that insisted the alliance be based upon Article 16 of the League Covenant, ultimately giving it 'a temporary character' and allowing Britain to revise 'our relations with the Soviet if we want to'. 98 Historians offer conflicting interpretations of Chamberlain's machinations at this juncture. Some, like Louise Grace Shaw, condemn it as a 'premeditated and deliberate act of sabotage', while Keith Neilson is more sympathetic to the Prime Minister, suggesting that it made a Russian alliance more acceptable to those sections of British opinion hostile to the USSR. 99 If Chamberlain believed that the League caveat was essential to satisfy the public, he was clearly oblivious to the majority of press commentary that wanted a Soviet alliance with or without reference to Geneva. Of course, Chamberlain's perceptions of public opinion were not nourished by the press alone, and the frequent letters he received from his two sisters provided ample reassurance of his continued popularity. Indeed, these letters evoked an early example of a 'Westminster bubble', intimating that the dissent articulated freely in parliamentary debate and newspaper editorials failed to reflect the prevailing mood in the country. What mattered, Hilda remarked, was not 'the opinion in the House of Commons [but] the opinion of the mass of the people', and the majority of the publicthe 'ordinary dull country people, councillors, gentry …, the working people'all supported the Premier. 100 Chamberlain could seek solace in his sisters' letters even as dissenting voices became harder to ignore. On 21 May Hilda even congratulated him on his 'lofty disregard' of the 'carping criticism' that he faced, assuring her brother that his position remained 'impregnable in the face of public confidence'. Ida acknowledged that the campaign to secure a Russian alliance was causing Neville 'a good deal of trouble', but felt nonetheless that 'most people in the country' had confidence in his diplomatic strategy. On 28 May, Ida noted a 'curious phenomenon' whereby the prominent parliamentary critics palpably failed to convey the mood of the country, in which Chamberlain enjoyed 'the kind of popularity unprecedented since the days of Pitt'. 101 That Ida and Hilda felt the need to offer such reassurance suggests that the criticism was affecting the Prime Minister. On 16 June Hilda even intimated that a Soviet pact could have been delivered had someone more committed than Chamberlain been in charge. 'No doubt [Eden] or Churchill could have returned triumphantly with an alliance in a very short time', she wrote in response to the press campaign for a Cabinet reshuffle, 'but it would have meant exactly what you have tried so hard to avoid'. 102 What Chamberlain sought to avoidan alliance on terms dictated by Moscowwas nonetheless becoming more palatable to the British people. Paris certainly felt that public opinion facilitated rather than hindered the conclusion of an alliance, even if press speculation concerning the imminence of an agreement was considered 'too optimistic' by some foreign ministry officials. 103 Bonnet noted 'a very strong movement of opinion in Britain and France which believes, not unreasonably, that the fate of peace depends upon the current negotiations'. 104 The Quai d'Orsay shared the conviction, gaining ground in the British Foreign Office, that a Soviet pact was both expedient and necessary. The Quai's Secretary-General, Alexis L eger, considered Soviet inclusion in the peace front to be 'critical', but admitted that initial British and French hesitancy was a prudent negotiating tactic because simple acceptance of Moscow's opening offer would have precluded further concessions from the Russians. 105 The Soviets, however, were prepared to be patient, waiting until western public opinion compelled its reluctant leaders to accept the USSR's demands. Moscow might have expected these pressures to induce significant political changes in London and Paris. Daniel L evi, a French diplomat and a Soviet affairs expert, suggested that, should Eden return as British Foreign Secretary and Bonnet be replaced as French Foreign Minister, 'the Russians would conclude more quickly'. 106 The French government was anxious to avoid the negotiations' dragging on interminably. Daladier in particular was concerned that such an eventuality would fracture the fragile domestic unity that he had successfully constructed around a politique de fermet e. 107 For some historians, particularly French scholars, the greater flexibility shown by Paris was fatally undermined by British procrastination, the latter reinforcing Soviet suspicions of the west and greatly hindering the chances of securing an alliance. 108 Given the stakes, London's attempt to add impetus to the faltering negotiations by sending Strang to Moscow, rather than Halifax or Eden, warrants criticism. The Russians were clearly offended, and Maisky urged Halifax to travel to the USSR in person. 109 Cadogan told Corbin that the British government was anxious to avoid 'running after' the Russians, as this would render an eventual failure all the more humiliating. 110 For the Soviets, however, this half-hearted gesture was especially discouraging given the recent tone of British newspapers. Shortly after arriving in the Soviet capital, Strang noted that the Soviet government, doubtless influenced by appraisals of the western press furnished by Maisky and Surits, was convinced that the USSR only needed to 'stand pat [because] our public will force us to give way'. 111 Indeed, Molotov had earlier told Seeds that he was surprised by the western governments' hesitancy, having been persuaded by press coverage that London and Paris would agree to Moscow's terms. 112 The confident conviction that public pressure would compel the British and French governments to yield contributed to Moscow's growing demands, notably their insistence that the Baltic States be included in any security arrangement. But rather than facilitate an agreement, increased Russian demands merely provoked antagonism in London. Governmental scepticism was reinforced, and many newspapers, whose advocacy of an alliance to that point had done so much to transcend a latent anti-Soviet hostility, began voicing unrest. 113 Both sides were locked in a battle, each seeking to frame the negotiations in a particular way before the court of British and French public opinion. The USSR had been winning this battle comfortably during April and May, but by June tit was less clear which side would prevail. Nonetheless, previous representations of a pro-alliance public opinion continued to reverberate. Halifax certainly considered it essential to show something for the weeks of talks, even acceptance of a 'simple tripartite Agreement' that the Russians had offered, and the British had rejected, back in April. 114 A straightforward tripartite agreement, shorn of any League-based caveats, may have been an option several weeks earlier, but by late June 1939, as negotiations stalled over definitions of 'indirect aggression' and the possible inclusion of the Baltic States, this opportunity appeared lost. Discussions had reached an impasse. Bonnet warned Halifax on 19 July that a failure would be 'disastrous' both for the prospects of peace and on a domestic level given that 'public opinion in all countries attaches the greatest importance' to a triple alliance. 115 From Moscow, Strang acknowledged that London was 'being urged by our press and by our public to conclude an agreement quickly'. Moreover, he continued, 'the Russians have good reason to assume that we shall not dare to face a final breakdown of the negotiations'. 116 Given that recent British opinion polls indicated overwhelming public support for a pact, the Russian conviction that Britain and France would eventually succumb to their demands was reasonable. 117 But the public moodat least as it was reflected in the presshad already begun to shift, and this shift would become even more discernible during July. Maisky detected this evolution but accused the British government of orchestrating it. A 'major campaign' was underway, he noted: 'rumours are being spread far and wide in the press, Parliament, and public and political circles' that the USSR was being unreasonably stubborn, 'deliberately dragging out the negotiations', and even 'flirting with Hitler'. This campaign, suggested Maisky, was having a wide impact, even having 'a demoralizing effect' on the British political left. 118 Although explicit support for an alliance became less prominent, most British newspapers remained cautiously upbeat about the final outcome. 119 In France, too, optimism prevailed, Daladier telling the journalist Pierre Lazareff that, certain difficulties notwithstanding, the 'conversations are soon going to result in an accord tr es solide'. Shortly afterwards, when meeting members of the French military delegation ahead of their mission to Russia, Daladier allegedly told General Joseph Doumenc to secure an agreement 'at any price'. 120 The British government showed markedly less urgency, Chamberlain interpreting the diminution of pro-alliance press voices as further endorsement of his diplomacy. His recent visit to South Wales had, according to his sister Hilda, allowed him to see 'the place you hold in the hearts' of the people and provided a welcome antidote to the 'carping criticism' in London. Ida concurred, assuring her brother that a general election would confirm his popularity with the masses and illustrate 'to what a very limited group of people criticism is confined'. 121 London's unhurried approach to the dispatch of their military mission infuriated Paris, Bonnet criticising the British government for introducing 'excessive' delays. 122 London procrastinated further by sending the military delegation by slow boat, a decision that several historians use to question Chamberlain's commitment to the talks. 123 How far such procrastination encouraged or even justified the USSR's pursuit of an alternative arrangement with Berlin is questionable. As this discussion of Soviet assumptions regarding British and French public opinion shows, Moscow's courting of Germany was due not simply to taking offence at British lassitude, but also an overestimation of their relative bargaining position. Gabriel Gorodetsky questions the idea that the USSR only agreed to a German pact 'under duress' and 'at the twelfth hour', arguing that the ex-post-facto Soviet narrative, 'meticulously constructed and widely disseminated by Maisky' in a bid to justify the Nazi-Soviet arrangement, is not supported by the evidence. 124 Of course, the ill-fated military missions to Moscow illustrated emphatically the almost insurmountable ideological differences that plagued the negotiations from their inception. The British delegates were instructed to go slowly, and the issue of whether Soviet troops would be permitted access through Poland and Romania was always likely to be an insuperable hurdle. 125 All the same, news that Berlin and Moscow had signed a non-aggression pact was a devastating blow to the western democracies and denied them Russian assistance in a war that now appeared imminent.

Conclusion
The speed with which Germany and Russia came to terms brought into sharper focus just how drawn-out, protracted, and tempestuous the Anglo-Franco-Soviet discussions had been. The temptation to blame the western governments for these failed negotiation remains potent, and has been revisited energetically by historians like Michael Jabara Carley, Louise Grace Shaw, and Annie Lacroix-Riz. Animated chiefly by anti-Soviet ideological hostility, so the argument goes, the western governments never sufficiently committed to a pact and compelled Stalin to align with Berlin. Prominent decisionmakers, notably Neville Chamberlain, certainly doubted the value of a Soviet alliance, and ideological scruples undoubtedly clouded their judgements. It is also clear that, by pledging support to Poland and Romania before the USSR's accession to the peace front, Britain and France had given a de facto guarantee to Moscow without obtaining a quid pro quo. Nevertheless, the Anglo-Franco-Soviet talks revealed points of shared interest that posed the potential for an alliance. Both parties had a common enemy in Nazi Germany; Litvinov was an apostle of collective security, and even after his dismissal from office there was no immediate realignment of Soviet policy; a military and strategic appreciation indicated that only with Russian support could the guarantees provided to Warsaw and Bucharest be upheld; for many on the political right, pragmatism overcame ideological aversion, allowing them to embrace a Soviet alliance; and, most crucially, public opinion in both Britain and France was ready to accept an alliance even on terms dictated chiefly by Moscow. In combination, these factors persuaded even the most reluctant policymakers to respond. As Carley has remarked, 'Chamberlain did not want an alliance with the Soviet Union [but] public opinion and Parliament pushed him further than he wanted to go'. 126 The opportunity to develop these points of common interest into a fully-fledged alliance, however, was fleeting. G. Bruce Strang's argument that a 'desperate, overcommitted British government' sought speed whilst the Russians 'willingly tolerated delay' is not without merit, especially when applied to the negotiations from June to August. 127 Speed was absent, however, when it might have yielded a positive outcome during May and June; thereafter, the fusion of conditions that fleetingly made an alliance possible began to fragment. By this juncture, even making a 'decisive gesture' capable of breaking 'the crust of Soviet incomprehension' was unlikely to produce positive outcomes. 128 After all, previous public enthusiasm only encouraged Moscow to increase their price, hindering rather than facilitating agreement. By introducing problematic issues concerning the Baltic States and definitions of 'indirect aggression', Moscow encouraged anti-Soviet sentiment to resurface. The Russians had miscalculated, and their inflated expectations of how far western public opinion was prepared to go in pursuit of a 'Grand Alliance' led them to demand too much. The negotiations continued regardless, but the chances of success were bleak at best and non-existent at worst. Agreement was only possible if sufficient pressure was applied to recalcitrant policymakersparticularly in London but also in Parisby press and public opinion. Such pressure existed from mid-April through early June 1939, but this glimmer of opportunity was ephemeral. It was only at this juncture, rather than at the outset of the talks, that an alliance was possible.