For Tsarist Russia, which dreamed of Tsarigrad and a passage to the sea, the question of Palestine was never really a foreign policy priority. Nevertheless, Russia, like the other Great Powers, had its consulates in the Holy Land. Part of their mission was to offer patronage to the local Orthodox Church (Russia was traditionally regarded as the patron of the Turkish Orthodox), monitor the status quo at the holy sites, help the numerous Orthodox pilgrims, as well as deal with all kinds of litigation between Russian nationals and citizens of European powers who were not under Turkish jurisdiction.
Turkey’s entry into World War I, the diplomatic missions of countries making up the Entente were, of course, closed. Russian diplomats were forced to leave the country. Shortly thereafter, the Turkish authorities began mass evictions of Russian nationals.
It would seem that during a rather unsuccessful war and domestic crisis, which snowballed in the Revolution and the ensuing fratricidal carnage, Russian politicians would not be interested in the Holy Land. The facts, however, suggest the opposite – that Russia's political elite closely followed the situation in the Holy Land, which, beginning in 1917, came under British control. In particular, serious concerns sparked the famous Balfour Declaration, in which the British government pledged to “make every effort” to establish in Palestine a “a national center for the Jewish people.” Russian politicians believed that the promise ran counter to Russian interests and carried the risk of irreversible change in the region.
The greatest perseverance and continuity was, of course, shown by the Russian Orthodox Church, which could not have remained silent on the issue concerning “the fate of the country where our Lord Jesus Christ spent his earthly life” (quotation from a letter from Metropolitan Platon to Anatoly Neratov, head of the Department of Foreign Affairs under Denikin’s government). Russian bishops were even planning to send a special delegation to the Paris Peace Conference in order to prove to representatives of victorious powers “the need to liberate Palestine and other holy lands from the hands of the infidels.” As a result of the Civil War, these plans naturally remained only on paper.
Interest in the Palestinian issue was expressed in the political leadership of the White movement. This was certainly seen in a number of official reports coming from various departments (former member of the Council of State Kovalevsky, former consul to Constantinople Shebunin, and others). Diplomats with interest in these issues also made regular mention of Palestinian affairs (primarily the Vatican envoy Lysakovsky).
Any Russian initiative would have been limited, not only by the fact that the country was hopelessly bogged down in a civil war, but also due to its lack of any representation in Palestine, which could, if not influence the situation, then at least provide first-hand information. Almost immediately after the end of World War I, the need to have a consul in Palestine held great importance in White diplomatic circles.
For various reasons, the practical implementation of the plan was postponed until May 1920 when Alexei Kruglov was sent to Jerusalem. Kruglov was officially called the “head of Russian interests in Palestine.” Kruglov was chosen not by chance. He was an experienced diplomat, having previously served in Baghdad and Aleppo. For several years before the war, he was Russia’s representative in Jerusalem. The appointment, therefore, did not come as a surprise to Kruglov.
Kruglov’s new status differed fundamentally from what he had been before the war. At that time, he was the official representative of a great power, but afterwards, everything changed. Neither the former head of the Imperial Ministry of Foreign Affairs Sazonov nor his successor Girs, an experienced diplomat, was able to achieve official recognition by Denikin’s government. Peter Struve, who was appointed to this post by Vrangel, was a little luckier. Despite his lack of diplomatic experience, he was able to ensure that the White government was given de facto recognition by France. But for the British who were in control of Palestine, this recognition meant virtually nothing. In their eyes, Kruglov was simply a private individual without any particular diplomatic rights or authority. The Russian envoy was therefore unable to send his reports promptly, as some of them simply would not have made it past the military censors.
In addition, Kruglov never received any remuneration for his work. So the “head of Russian interests in Palestine” had to make his living...through the sale of his personal belongings!
In this situation, Kruglov, of course, was denied the opportunity to act in an official capacity. He could only inform his superiors about developments, which meant complaining that nothing could be done and that Russian affairs in Palestine were progressing from bad to worse.
Like most White diplomats, Kruglov did not sympathize with Zionism, as he believed that Jewish colonization of Palestine ran contrary to Russian interests. In anticipation of a post-war Soviet diplomatic presence, he wrote that if Palestine will be a Jewish state, local Arabs could become proponents of Russian interests. In his view, sooner or later, they could become independent. Therefore, wrote Kruglov, “as soon as God helps our country recover from its malaise, we should establish relations with them (Arabs – author’s note) in order to create a very serious intelligence service and diplomatic representation.”
Kruglov did not express any sympathies for the British position either. In his reports he gloatingly mentioned even the most minor of their failures – troubles such as the first communist demonstration that was held in Jaffa (the first formal statement by Jewish Bolsheviks) or the strike at the wine factory in Rishon.
Jewish or British issues made the pages of Kruglov’s messages only occasionally. The main theme of his reports was, of course, Russia and Russian affairs, which he said were always getting worse.
Before the war, thousands of Russian pilgrims traveled to Palestine each year. Under British rule, however, the situation changed dramatically. According to Kruglov, the new authorities sought to greatly restrict access to the Russian Orthodox holy sites. One of his reports complained that Russian Christians have to wait 30-40 days for entrance passes, while Jews have to wait only 3-4 days. In another report, Kruglov stated simply that Russian pilgrims were not given passes at all by the British.
The issue of Russian property in Palestine was another problematic issue. Due to an acute shortage of accommodation, the British widely requisitioned property that had belonged to various Russian agencies. In particular, in Jerusalem they acquired the former Sergievo Compound that was owned by the Imperial Orthodox Palestinian society. Police stations and courthouses were placed in homes used by pilgrims.
Kruglov complained about the requisition to his superiors, and at times he tried to protest, rightly acknowledging the rent and housing crisis, but arguing, “innocent Russian institutions and Russian nationals cannot be held responsible.” As a private individual, however, it was quite clear that he was unable to do anything.
With modest means Kruglov tried to attract the few Palestinian Russians to the fight against the Bolshevik regime, although he was unable to achieve any visible success. For example, when the trial of Metropolitan Benjamin began in Petrograd in 1921, the consul tried to call up a protest on behalf of the local Russian clergy. This undertaking produced no results, however, and a vitriolic Kruglov noted that Orthodox society had become passive and even cautious and “has not yet decided determine their position on whether the shooting of Metropolitan Benjamin is right or wrong.”
Kruglov’s letter concerning the trial of Benjamin was dated October 3, 1922. After that date, official correspondence ceased, which apparently signaled the end of his official mission.
After his “resignation,” Kruglov lived in Beirut until his death in 1948, shortly after the beginning of the Arab-Israeli War. In a sense, his fate reflected the fate of other White
