The Russian Revolution

by Richard Pipes

  Since they did not believe that the Russian bourgeoisie would lead or even join in the political struggle, the task devolved on the intelligentsia. This mission it could fulfill best by acts of political terrorism which had the same objective as that formulated by the People’s Will—that is, undermining the prestige of the government in the eyes of the population and encouraging it to rebellion. Terror occupied the central plank in the SR program. To the SRs it was not only a political tactic but a spiritual act, a quasi-religious ritual, in which the terrorist took life but paid for it with his own. SR literature contains curiously barbaric paeans to the “holy cause,” the “creative ecstasy,” and the “highest peak of human spirit,” which found expression, it was said, in the spilling of blood.43 Terrorist operations were directed by the conspiratorial SR Combat Organization (Boevaia Organizatsiia), which “sentenced” government officials to “execution.” But local SR cells and individual members also engaged in assassinations on their own initiative. The first act of political terror directed by the SRs was the murder in 1902 of the Minister of the Interior, D. S. Sipiagin. Subsequently, until crushed in 1908–9, the SR Combat Organization perpetrated hundreds of political murders.

  Its daring terrorist undertakings, which often ended with the death of the terrorist, won the SRs much admiration in oppositional circles, including those formally opposed to terrorism. The Social-Democrats, who rejected this tactic, suffered serious defections to their rivals, reputed to be “real” revolutionaries.44

  The social program of the SRs centered on the “socialization” of land, which called for the abolition of private property in land and the transfer of its management to local organs of self-government: these were to ensure that any citizen able and willing to cultivate the land received an adequate allotment. The SRs adopted the peasant slogan of “Black Repartition”—that is, the expropriation and distribution to the communes of all privately held land. This program, which reflected the desires of the rural population of Orthodox Russia, gained the SRs the support of nearly the entire peasantry. The much more modest demands on behalf of the peasants in the SD program, and the general contempt in which the SDs held the muzhik kept that party from gaining any following in the countryside.

  Although their main base of support lay in the village, the SRs did not ignore industrial workers: in their program, they described the proletariat as an essential element in the revolution and allowed for a transitional period of “proletarian revolutionary dictatorship.”45 Unlike the SDs, the SRs did not treat the peasants and industrial workers as distinct and hostile classes. Their theoreticians, of whom Victor Chernov was the most prominent, defined classes not by the relationship to the means of production but by the source of income. By this standard, societies had only two classes: the exploited or “toilers” and the exploiters—those who earned their livelihood and those who lived off the labor of others. In the latter category they placed landlords, capitalists, officials, and clergy; in the former, peasants, workers, and themselves, the intelligentsia. A self-employed peasant was to them a “toiler” and a natural ally of the industrial worker. They were vague, however, on what to do about industrial enterprises in a post-revolutionary society and had difficulty attracting workers.

  The SR Party, extremist as it was, had a still more extreme wing known as Maximalists. This minority wanted to supplement political terror with “economic terror,” by which they meant assassinations of landlords and factory owners. In practice, their strategy reduced itself to indiscriminate bombings, as illustrated by the attack on Prime Minister Stolypin’s villa in 1911 in which dozens of bystanders lost their lives. To finance their operations, the Maximalists carried out bank holdups, euphemistically called “expropriations,” which brought them hundreds of thousands of rubles. (In these operations, as we shall see, they sometimes collaborated with the Bolsheviks.) The movement had a maniacal quality, as is evident from the ideas of the Maximalist I. Pavlov. In a pamphlet published legally in Moscow in 1907, The Purification of Mankind (Ochistka chelovechestva), Pavlov argued that “exploiters” were not only a social class but a “degenerate race,” which inherited and developed beyond anything known in the animal world the vilest characteristics of the gorilla and the orangutan. Since they bequeathed these vicious traits to their own offspring, all representatives of that “race,” including women and children, had to be exterminated.46 The SR Party formally disowned the Maximalists and the Union of Socialists-Revolutionaries Maximalists, formed in October 1906, but in practice it managed to accommodate itself to their outrages.

  The SRs were loosely organized in good measure because the police, for whom prevention of terrorist acts had the highest priority, kept on infiltrating and decimating SR ranks. (According to G. A. Gershuni, the founder of the SR terrorist apparatus, for the denunciation of a member of the SR Combat Organization, the Okhrana paid a reward of 1,000 rubles, for an SR intellectual, 100, and for an SR worker, 25, but for a Social-Democrat, at most 3.47) The party’s cells were filled with students: in Moscow they were said to constitute at least 75 percent of SR activists.48 In the countryside, the most loyal supporters of the SRs were schoolteachers. Propaganda and agitation among the peasantry, consisting mainly of a scattering of pamphlets and leaflets, seems to have had little direct success in stimulating anti-governmental disorders, since at least until 1905 the peasants remained loyal to the notion that the land they craved would be provided by the Tsar.

  We shall deal with the Social-Democratic Party at length elsewhere. Here it will be sufficient to point out certain features of that party that were to have political consequences in the early years of the century. Unlike the SRs, who divided society into “exploiters” and “exploited,” the SDs defined classes in relation to the means of production, and regarded the industrial working class (“proletariat”) as the only truly revolutionary class. The peasants, with the possible exception of those without access to communal land, they considered “petty bourgeois” and, as such, reactionary. On the other hand, to the SDs the “bourgeoisie” was a temporary ally in the common struggle against the autocracy, and capitalism was both inevitable and progressive. The SDs disparaged terror on the grounds that it diverted attention from the main immediate task of the socialists, that of organizing workers, although they benefited considerably from it.

  The social background of the leaders as well as the rank and file of the two socialist parties showed no significant differences.49 Their leadership was drawn from the gentry and the middle class—that is, from the same social milieu as that of the liberal party. The SRs had in their top ranks a surprising number of sons of millionaires, among them V. M. Zenzinov, Abraham Gots, and I. I. Fundaminskii.50 For all their dedication to the peasantry, the SRs admitted no peasants into their directing organs, and the SDs, the self-proclaimed party of the working class, allowed very few manual workers into their top ranks.51 In times of unrest (1905–6 and 1917), both parties relied heavily on rural immigrants to the cities, uprooted peasants who had acquired only the most superficial qualities of city dwellers. Psychologically and economically insecure, some of these peasants flocked to the socialists, while others joined the “Black Hundred” gangs that terrorized students and Jews. According to the Social-Democrat P. P. Maslov:

  Essentially the activity of local SR groups differed little from that of the SDs. The organizations of both parties usually consisted of small groups of

  intelligenty

  , formed into committees, who had little connection with the masses and viewed them mainly as material for political agitation.

  52

  Russian liberals belonged only partly to the ranks of the intelligentsia. They did not share the basic philosophical premise of the radicals—that is, the belief in the perfectibility of man and society. Their stated objectives were not different from those of Western liberals. In their strategy and tactics, however, the Russian liberals drew very close to the radicals: as Paul Miliukov, their leader, liked to boast, thei
r political program “was the most leftist of all those advanced by analogous groups in Western Europe.”53 Ivan Petrunkevich, another leading Kadet, thought that Russian “liberals, radicals, and revolutionaries” were distinguished not by political objectives but by temperament.54

  This left-wing tendency was dictated by two considerations. The liberals, appealing to the mass electorate, had to compete with radical parties, which also stood to the left of their Western European counterparts, making the most extreme and Utopian promises to the electorate. It was a challenge they had to meet. To steal the thunder from the socialists, the liberals adopted a radical social program, which included a demand for the expropriation of large landed estates (with compensation at “fair” rather than market prices), as well as Church and state properties, for distribution to the peasants.* Their platform also called for a comprehensive program of social welfare. They would turn a deaf ear to counsels of moderation, afraid of “compromising” themselves in the eyes of the masses and losing out to the socialists.

  Even more compelling were tactical reasons. To wrest from the autocracy first a constitution and a legislative parliament and then parliamentary democracy, the liberals required leverage. This they found in the threat of revolution. In 1905–7 and then again in 1915–17, they urged the monarchy to make political concessions to them as a way of avoiding a much worse fate. The party maintained discreet silence in regard to SR terror, which its liberal principles should have caused it to condemn outright.

  The political practice of the Kadets thus displayed a troublesome ambivalence—dread of revolution and exploitation of the revolution—and proved a gross miscalculation: playing with the revolutionary threat contributed not a little to promoting the very thing the liberals most wished to avoid. But this they would realize only after the event, when it was too late.

  Although more moderate than the socialists, the liberals gave the Imperial regime greater trouble, because they had in their ranks socially prominent individuals who could engage in politics under the disguise of legitimate professional activity. Socialist students were fair game for the police. But who would dare to lay hands on a Prince Shakhovskoi or a Prince Dolgorukov, even as they were busy organizing a subversive liberal party? And how could one interfere with gatherings of physicians or jurists, although it was common knowledge that the participants discussed forbidden subjects? This difference in social status explains why the directing organizations of the liberals could function inside Russia, virtually free of police interference, while the SRs and SDs had to operate from abroad. It also explains why in both 1905 and 1917 the liberals were the first on the scene and in charge, weeks before their socialist rivals made an appearance.

  The Russian liberal movement had two main bases of support: the zemstva, and the intelligentsia.

  The zemstva were elected on a franchise that ensured solid representation of the landed gentry, then considered by the monarchy to be a staunch supporter. They functioned on the district and provincial level, but the government did not allow them to form a national organization, fearing that it would arrogate to itself quasi-parliamentary functions. The elected deputies tended to be either liberal-constitutionalists or Slavophile conservatives, both hostile to the autocracy and bureaucratic rule, but opposed to revolution. The salaried personnel hired by the zemstva (agronomists, physicians, teachers, etc.), known as the Third Element, was more radical but also non-revolutionary.

  Properly treated, the zemstva might have helped stabilize the monarchy. But for the conservatives in the bureaucracy, and especially those in the Ministry of the Interior, the zemtsy were an intolerable irritant: busybodies who meddled in affairs that were none of their business and hindered the efficient administration of the provinces. Under their influence, Alexander III in 1890 restricted the authority of the zemstva, giving the governors wide latitude to interfere with their personnel and activities.

  Harassed by the authorities, zemstvo leaders in the 1890s held informal national consultations, often disguised as professional and scientific meetings. In 1899, they went further, organizing in Moscow a discussion group called Beseda (Symposium). Its membership was sufficiently prominent socially and professionally for the police to look at its meetings through their fingers: these took place in the Moscow mansion of Princes Peter and Paul Dolgorukov.55

  In June 1900, the government once again restricted the competence of the zemstva, this time in the realm of taxation. It further ordered the dismissal of zemstvo deputies who were especially active in promoting constitutional causes. In response, Symposium, which until then had confined its deliberations to zemstvo affairs, turned attention to political questions. To many zemtsy, the government’s persecution raised the fundamental question whether it made sense to pursue “constructive,” apolitical work under a regime dominated by bureaucracy and police bent on stifling every manifestation of public initiative. These doubts were heightened by the publication in 1901 in Germany of a confidential memorandum by Witte which urged the total abolition of zemstva as institutions incompatible with autocracy.

  The ranks of zemstvo constitutionalists were augmented in 1901 by a small but influential group of intellectuals, defectors from Social-Democracy who had found intolerable its partisanship and dogmatism. The most prominent among them was Peter Struve, the author of the founding manifesto of the Social-Democratic Party and one of its outstanding theoreticians. Struve and his friends proposed to forge a national front, encompassing parties and groupings from the extreme left to the moderate right, under the slogan “Down with the Autocracy.” Struve emigrated to Germany and with money provided by zemstvo friends founded there in 1902 the journal Osvobozhdenie (Liberation). The periodical carried information not permitted in censored publications, including secret government documents supplied by sympathizers within the bureaucracy. Issues smuggled into Russia helped forge a community of “Liberationists” (Osvobozhdentsy) from which, in time, would emerge the Constitutional-Democratic Party. In January 1904, its supporters founded in St. Petersburg the Union of Liberation (Soiuz Osvobozhdeniia) to promote constitutionalism and civil rights. Its branches in many towns attracted moderate elements as well as socialists, especially Socialists-Revolutionaries. (The Social-Democrats, insisting on their “hegemony” in the struggle against the regime, refused to collaborate.) These circles, operating semi-legally, did much to stimulate discontent with existing conditions.56

  The rank and file of the liberal movement was highly diversified. The Constitutional-Democratic Party, which in 1906 had 100,000 members—several times the combined membership of the socialist parties—rested on a broader social base than its rivals on the left, attracting many artisans, junior officials, salesmen, and tradesmen. The liberal intelligentsia consisted mainly of professionals, such as professors, lawyers, physicians, and editors, rather than the students who filled socialist ranks.57

  At the beginning of the twentieth century, there were in Russia thousands of men and women committed to fundamental change. A good part of them were “professional revolutionaries,” a novel breed who dedicated their lives to plotting political violence. They and their supporters might quarrel among themselves about strategy and tactics—whether to engage in terror, whether to “socialize” or “nationalize” the land, whether to treat the peasant as an ally or as an enemy of the worker. But they were at one on the central issue: that there was to be no accommodation, no compromise with the existing social, economic and political regime, that it had to be destroyed, root and branch, not only in Russia but throughout the world. So strong was the influence of these extremists that even Russia’s liberals came under their spell. Clearly, the limited political concessions spelled out in the October Manifesto satisfied none of them.

  The existence of such an intelligentsia created, in and of itself, a high risk of permanent revolution. For just as lawyers make for litigation and bureaucrats for paperwork, so revolutionaries make for revolution. In each case, a profession emerges with an interes
t in promoting situations that demand its particular expertise. The fact that the intelligentsia rejected any accommodation with official Russia, that it exacerbated discontent and opposed reform, made it unlikely that Russia’s problems could be peacefully resolved.

  *The history of this term in Western Europe and Russia is recounted by Otto Wilhelm Müller in Intelligencija: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte eines politischen Schlagwortes (Frankfurt, 1971). According to the author (p. 98n.), the word “intelligent” was applied in France to experts as early as the fifteenth century.

  *The notion that the task of politics is to inculcate virtue and that virtue is attained by laws and education is as old as political theory, since it goes back to Plato. But the innovation of Helvétius is that to him politics, by creating a propitious environment, not only enables man to act virtuously but compels him to do so by remaking his personality.

  *Francis G. Wilson has noted that even in early modern times, before the influence of science had made itself fully felt, intellectuals favored centralized authority and a powerful state: American Political Science Review, XLVIII, No. 2 (1954), 325, 335–38.

  *Cochin fell in battle in 1916. His principal works are La Crise de l’Histoire Révolutionnaire (Paris, 1909) and the posthumously published Les Sociétés de pensée et la Démocratie (Paris, 1921). His ideas are summarized in François Furet’s Penser la Révolution Française (Paris, 1983).

  *Eric Hoffer sees in imperviousness to reality an essential feature of all fanaticism: “the effectiveness of a doctrine should not be judged by its profundity, sublimity or the validity of the truths it embodies, but by how thoroughly it insulates the individual from his self and the world as it is” (The True Believer, New York, 1951, 79).

  *A. Volskii (Machajski), Umstvennyi rabochii (New York-Baltimore, 1968), 328. (Originally published in 1904–5.) In the preface (p. 14), Albert Parry notes that this work aroused the “fierce opposition” of virtually all revolutionary intellectuals of the time: “They at once mobilized the entire corps of their theoretical publicists, orators, and agitators. The whole propaganda apparatus of the Socialist movement, be it Bolshevik, Menshevik, or Socialist-Revolutionary, went into action against this new common enemy. The virulence of their attack was unprecedented.” Machajski’s writings have been placed on the Soviet Index Librorum Prohibitorum.