From War Hero to Political Pariah

In April 1946, Marshal Georgy Zhukov returned to Moscow from Berlin, unaware his fortunes were about to plummet. As he reviewed the May Day parade in Red Square, the architect of Soviet victories at Stalingrad and Berlin appeared secure as Stalin’s favored military leader. Yet within weeks, Zhukov found himself before the Higher Military Council on June 1, facing accusations of self-aggrandizement and disrespect toward colleagues.

Presided over by Stalin, the tribunal included Soviet power brokers like Lavrentiy Beria, Nikolai Bulganin, and Vyacheslav Molotov, alongside marshals including Ivan Konev and Konstantin Rokossovsky. Though some officers reportedly defended Zhukov, the outcome was predetermined. By June 3, he was stripped of his command over Soviet ground forces and exiled to lead the Odessa Military District—a stunning demotion for the man who had accepted Germany’s surrender just a year earlier.

The Novikov Affair: A Manufactured Scandal

Zhukov’s downfall originated in the so-called “Aviators Affair,” a purge targeting Soviet aviation officials. In April 1946, Air Marshal Alexander Novikov—arrested for allegedly procuring faulty wartime aircraft—provided coerced testimony accusing Zhukov of Bonapartism. Under interrogation by MGB chief Viktor Abakumov, Novikov claimed Zhukov sought personal glory while diminishing Stalin’s role in victories like Berlin.

Though Novikov later recanted, Stalin weaponized these allegations. On June 9, a directive condemned Zhukov for “harmful behavior,” alleging he claimed undue credit for victories and fostered factionalism. The Berlin operation, the order noted, had required Konev and Rokossovsky’s forces—a deliberate undermining of Zhukov’s legacy.

Stalin’s Postwar Paranoia

Why target Zhukov? Stalin’s postwar insecurities played a key role. Aging and physically declining, the dictator grew hypersensitive to perceived challenges. Zhukov’s popularity—bolstered by Western media dubbing him “the man who never lost a battle”—made him suspect. Moreover, Stalin sought to reassert control over a military whose wartime prestige threatened party dominance.

Zhukov himself blamed rivals like Beria and Bulganin. In unpublished memoirs, he recounted clashes with Bulganin over chain-of-command issues, where Stalin sided against him. The marshal’s refusal to kowtow through party channels likely sealed his fate.

Exile and Humiliation

Reassigned to Odessa, Zhukov maintained outward dignity. “I resolved to remain myself,” he told writer Konstantin Simonov. Yet persecution continued. In 1947, he was censured for awarding medals to singer Lidiya Ruslanova during Berlin’s occupation—an act framed as corruption. Worse followed in 1948 when MGB raids uncovered German loot in Zhukov’s homes: gold, furs, and Holland & Holland shotguns.

Though spared arrest (unlike associates like General Vladimir Kryukov), Zhukov was demoted to the remote Urals Military District. His name vanished from official war histories; paintings of victory parades erased his likeness.

Rehabilitation Under a New Era

Stalin’s death in March 1953 reversed Zhukov’s fortunes. Recalled to Moscow, he played a pivotal role in Beria’s arrest that June—personally subduing the feared security chief. “The most important thing I ever did,” Zhukov later reflected.

Promoted to Defense Minister by 1955, he oversaw nuclear readiness exercises like the infamous 1954 Totskoye test, where troops drilled under live atomic detonations. His rehabilitation culminated in public honors, including a 1957 Time magazine cover.

Legacy: The Price of Princely Favor

Zhukov’s ordeal epitomized Stalin’s capricious tyranny. Like Suvorov under Paul I or Tukhachevsky in 1937, his fall illustrated the perils of military popularity in autocracies. Yet his resurgence post-Stalin also marked the Red Army’s renewed political role—a dynamic that would shape Soviet crises from 1956 Hungary to 1964’s ouster of Khrushchev, which Zhukov initially supported before his own final dismissal.

Today, Zhukov’s statue outside the Kremlin symbolizes Russia’s complex relationship with its past: a hero celebrated by the state that once spurned him, his legacy as contested as the history he helped write.