Between Bloodshed And Self-Restraint - By Kirill Alexandrov

Past and present

BETWEEN BLOODSHED AND SELF-RESTRAINT

By Kirill Alexandrov
September 2006
Source

The 100th anniversary of the Manifesto of October 17, 1905

“…Well, tell me, please, what we should do, in your view.

“If I am allowed to close down the printshops issuing revolutionary materials and arrest 700 or 800 men, I can assure you that Petersburg will become calm and quiet.

“Yes. And it would be even better to arrest half the population of the city. But, please, remember neither Witte nor I will ever agree to that. We are a constitutional government.

“The Manifesto on Freedom has been given and it will not be repealed. You should act in accordance with these intentions of the government.”

From a conversation between Minister of the Interior P. Durnovo and A. Gerasimov, the head of the Petersburg police, 1905

The glamour of Peter the Great’s empire

One hundred years ago, Russia was a unique country with an outstanding elite, a dynamically developing economy, brilliant European culture, but with very poor and socially backward people forming the majority of the population.

Peter the Great’s Empire could rightly be proud of its achievements in the sphere of foreign policy, culture, its army with a corporative officer corps, civic-minded nobility, successful merchants, industrialists and entrepreneurs, and clergymen who understood the sentiments of the people. The Cossacks played a significant role in the defense of the Russian state; they constituted the most socially developed, but at the same time isolated, part of the Russian people. The Bolsheviks almost completely destroyed the Ural Cossack community, exterminating virtually all its members, and very few people remember that the Ural Cossacks had created a highly productive agricultural infrastructure in the region, developed fisheries and strictly protected the environment of the Urals.

Between 1887 and 1900, economic growth in Russia in eight major industrial branches reached 100 percent. Yielding to Britain, Germany and France in the volume of industrial output, Russia surpassed them in economic growth rates. The American economist P. Gregory included Russia among such countries as the United States, Sweden and Japan. The share of the Russian Empire in world industrial production comprised 3.4 percent in 1881-1884, and by 1900 it reached 5 percent. From 1885 to 1913, Russia had a positive trade balance. Minister of Finance Sergei Witte introduced the so-called gold standard in 1897, which made it possible to exchange one ruble in paper money for 66 kopecks in gold. From 1897 to 1914, the Russian gold ruble was regarded one of the most reliable hard currencies in the world and cost, on average, $0.50 or 2.10 German marks. This vividly showed the financial might of Russia.

Europe paid due respect to the professional ability, experience and reliability of Russian lawyers and the achievements of Russian engineers and technicians. According to Vladimir Vernadsky, during the 25 years at the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th century, “two races had made a great leap in world science and industry – the Anglo-Saxon and the Russian.” Russian doctors, teachers, scientists and scholars, officers and priests led the world in those professions.

The reverse side of the Russian gold ruble

But the inadequate civic development, poverty and inertia of the peasant masses was the historic price for the bright St. Petersburg period. By 1897, rural inhabitants constituted 86.6 percent of the population of Russia, and urban dwellers only 13.4 percent, whereas, in Britain, 77 percent lived in cities, in Germany 54.4 percent, in France 41 percent and in the United States about 26 percent. Out of the 125.6 million people of the Russian Empire, only 26.5 million could read and write (21.1 percent). Literacy among the rural population barely reached 17 percent. In all, there were 789 illiterates per 1000 people in the country in 1900. At the turn of the century, Russia held third place in Europe, after Romania and Serbia, in the level of illiteracy. However, the scarcity of peasant life, its primitive character and the low level of agriculture was not only due to the above-mentioned reasons.

Communal land-tenure was a serious obstacle to rural progress. Arable land belonging to community was no man’s land. Its was designated by the state with the intention of keeping the peasantry in its aboriginal state, isolated from normal life, which the authorities for ideological reasons saw as the inviolable foundation of law and order. By 1905, about 170,000 communities, or 9.5 million peasant families (76.7 percent), owned land under communal law in 50 gubernias of European Russia. There were no peasant communities in the Baltic region and they were few and far between in the western gubernias, where household economy predominated. As the Russian philosopher and lawyer Ivan Ilyin noted, a serious drawback of Russian people’s life was “a morbid attitude to property and economic processes.” The Russian peasant was accustomed, from time immemorial, “not to believe in ‘righteous work,’ deeming it more profitable to rely not on nature, but on the property of his neighbor, whether he was rich or poor. Of course, the former would be better.” Ilyin contended that the peasant “valued in property not an embodiment of his ancestors or himself, not its creative or qualitative aspect, but… its amount, size, power, respect and the opportunity to unbridle his passions.”

Deprived of property rights and personal freedom until 1861, the downtrodden Russian peasant, oppressed by the community, lived outside the elementary bounds of civic freedom. He was not a full-fledged citizen or private person, he had no experience in personal responsibility or subjective independence from arbitrary actions. Naturally, he could not be politically independent due to his backwardness. The church was unable, due to its dependent position and diminishing moral authority throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, beginning in Peter the Great’s time, to relieve the peasants of their social backwardness.

Peasants lived mainly on a vegetable diet, sugar consumption was negligible. According to rural statistical data, in 1900-1903 the incomes of peasant households in half the gubernias of European Russia did not exceed expenditures, they could not even cover them. This deficit was compensated by outside earnings. Laziness, drunkenness, envy, hooliganism, passivity and lack of elementary comforts were scourges of the Russian village at the beginning of the 20th century. Unfortunately, this primitive peasant life was interpreted by many Russian intellectuals and noblemen as a source of “genuinely spiritual,” “purely religious” or “deeply patriotic” tradition, and became a dangerous temptation for many minds. Such views on peasant life were especially widespread during the reign of Alexander III. Incidentally, it was from this tragic delusion that the mythological image of the pseudo-saint Grigory Rasputin came into being, and continues to exist to this day.

The Orient of Xerxes or Christ?

Another negative feature of the historical development of Russia during the Petersburg period was the constantly growing disproportion in cultural and political development between the people and society, the ignorant majority and enlightened minority. By the end of the 19th century, the privileged segments of the population and the growing trading and industrial class strove for the introduction of European forms of socio-political life and, due to their own development and influence in the country, called for the establishment of a constitutional form of government. Radical constitutionalists and socialists of all shades suffered from an inferiority complex before Europe, due to the lack of a constitution in Russia. Professor Pavel Milyukov, a well-educated historian, whose constitutional-democratic theories were far removed from real life in the country, maintained that Russia should become a parliamentary state as quickly as possible. Right up to the upheaval of October 1917 he sincerely believed that the root of all social evil in Russia lay in the absence of universal, direct, equal and secret electoral rights for the masses.

Due to a lack of knowledge on the subject, the land problem seemed quite simple to the political opposition. The view current in intellectual circles was that the main reason for rural poverty was the big landlord system and the lack of land among the peasants. Consequently, along with the introduction of classical parliamentarism, it was necessary to “redistribute” landlords’ property and other “free” land correctly, and this would bring about radical solutions to political and social problems. Forcible alienation of landlords’ property and the introduction of political freedoms were demanded by the radical constitutionalist Milyukov and socialist-revolutionary leader Viktor Chernov, whose militant fighters were, from 1902, using terrorist acts to persuade the authorities to adopt their political program. Strange as it would seem, Emperor Nicholas II had a better understanding of the inability of the Russian masses to participate in the country’s political life, due to the absence of elementary culture and knowledge. Moreover, the Emperor believed that the narrow bounds of the monarchy kept the people from starting a bloody revolt, during which the most valuable and educated could be destroyed by “Dostoyevsky’s God-seekers.” In a private conversation, the Emperor noted, “The restriction of the czar’s power could be understood by people as an act of violence by the intelligentsia against the czar… The peasant will not understand the Constitution, he will think that the czar has been bound hand and foot… and then… I congratulate you, gentlemen…”

Utopian solutions to the land problem on the popular principle of “take and divide everything” were absolutely unfeasible. In actuality, by 1905, noblemen owned only about 55 million hectares of land out of 250 million in 50 gubernias of European Russia, that is, 22.2 percent. Peasant communities had over 150 million hectares, that is, more than 60 percent, and the rest was in possession of the Cossacks, merchants and private individuals. In the words of the historian Sergei Pushkarev, “Russia before the Revolution was a ‘muzhik kingdom,’ a country where peasant ownership of land prevailed over large-scale private land ownership more than in other European countries.” Small islands of landowners’ estates accounted for only about 23 percent of grain output in 1901-1905. The bulk was produced by rural communities. The epoch of “cherry orchards” was quickly passing at the end of the 19th century, never to return. The class of landowners was on the road to extinction, it was only the most progressive, knowledgeable and cultured landlords, like Prince P. Trubetskoi, Count S. Sheremetev, Baron E. Falz-Fein, Baron V. Steigel, and a few others, who remained and flourished. The shortage of peasant land, mourned by many generations of populists, was a harmful myth. By 1905, about 24 percent of peasant households had less than 5.5 hectares of land, 42 percent possessed up to 11 hectares, and 34 percent more than 11 hectares. In France, more than 70 percent of all households had less than 5.5 hectares, in Germany, 76 percent, and in Belgium, 90 percent. The poverty of the Russian peasantry was the result of social backwardness, low agricultural standards and vice, not of a shortage of land.

The workers presented a special problem. The comparatively small proletariat and semi-proletariat (less than 10 percent of the population) was mainly concentrated in the capital and the big industrial cities of the empire. The government did not pay enough attention to the clashes of interests between industrialists and workers, whereas revolutionaries were trying to use them for their own purposes. The conflict was exacerbated sharply at the turn of the 20th century. Russian religious philosopher and poet Vladimir Solovyov, sensing its dangerous consequences, and seeing the contrast between the traditional popular perception of Russia and grim reality, wrote the following lines: “O, Russia! In your high prevision you are engaged in noble thoughts and doubts. What kind of Orient you wish to be – that of Xerxes or of Christ?”

Unfortunately, Alexander III persuaded his son and heir, Nicholas II, to refrain from any deep transformations. The young czar was told the same by other intelligent persons, among them Konstantin Pobedonostsev, head of the Holy Synod, and Prince Vladimir Meshchersky, a well-known journalist and writer, but they had long lost ability for political thinking and lived in the realm of myths, detached from real life. In the first years of his reign (1895-1904), Nicholas II resolutely, and not groundlessly, opposed the unrestrained desires of the radical intelligentsia to fundamentally change the political structure of the country. Such a revolutionary perestroika would not have improved the empire, but, on the contrary, handed it over to the mercy of unbridled popular instincts and destroyed it. It’s indicative that Count Sergei Witte, the technocratic chairman of the cabinet, didn’t share the constitutional sentiments of the liberals or the conservative views of reactionaries. The creator of the gold standard of the Russian ruble valued, in his own peculiar way, the autocracy for allowing the country to reach concrete results in a relatively short time. His experience as the minister of finance corroborated this conclusion. Well-known lawyer and constitutional democrat Vasily Maklakov wrote about Witte, whose person was indissolubly linked with the czar’s Manifesto of October 17, that “he judged the usefulness of principles by their results, and didn’t assert that life should necessarily correspond to principles.” Historian Viktor Leontovich wrote that Witte “was convinced of the need to implement reforms only on the basis of the power of the absolute monarchy in Russia. The same reforms, being unpopular by their essence, could not be implemented within a democratic system.”

But Nicholas II made a serious error in disregarding the urgent need for social reforms to begin turning the passive rural community member into a citizen and private person and give the worker confidence in the morrow. Only in due time after elementary education and the foundations of civic freedoms – the right to property, personal independence, freedom of conscience and movement – could the question of political freedom be raised. For this, however, it was necessary for society to be tactful and patient, and for power to be consistent in the implementation of a positive program. Regrettably, neither could do anything of the sort in 1905.

The revolution of 1905

Since the time of Alexander III, society had regarded power incapable of even minimally reasonable reformist activity. This attitude gradually turned into alienation and then firm opposition. Russian society had no positive experience of a dialogue with the state. That was why demands by members of district and regional councils became ever more radical. Between 1860 and 1870, they regarded themselves as liberals. They placed little value on historical tradition and were unable to value civic freedoms, but they praised political freedom to the skies. Most of them ignored the profound backwardness and ignorance of the people. The most intransigent part of the intelligentsia was full of enthusiasm for the ancient heresy of paradise on earth, and was carried away by pseudo-scientific Marxism or socialist-revolutionary terror. The rich trade-industrial class and financial elite insistently demanded, just like members of the district and regional councils, to participate in the political life of the country.

The deepening crisis of rural community in the 1880s and 1890s and the extreme backwardness of rural life caused agricultural disturbances that turned into peasant revolts and cases of arson on landlords’ estates. Between 1900 and 1904, there were 670 peasant revolts, as against 82 in the preceding five years, and more than 600,000 workers went on strike. Although the economic demands of the strikers were met, the growth of the strike movement exacerbated the general situation in big cities. In July 1904, socialist-revolutionary terrorists killed the ambitious but mediocre Minister of the Interior Vyacheslav Pleve. Students, too, expressed their discontent. In autumn, the liberal public decided to mark the 40th anniversary of the legal reform of Alexander II. Banquets were organized, where a host of heartfelt toasts to the institution of parliament and adoption of a constitution were drunk, accompanied by plenty of caviar, sturgeon, boiled pork and other delicacies. Unpleasant news from the Russo-Japanese military theater was a highly unfavorable background.

The unprofessional, clumsy behavior of the St. Petersburg authorities and the subtle provocation of socialists resulted in the well-known tragedy of January 9, 1905 (“Bloody Sunday” with 130 killed and 333 wounded), which caused an escalation of violence all over the country. The number of spontaneous peasant revolts demanding land (“black redistribution”) in the first six months of 1905 exceeded 1000. After Bloody Sunday, Prince Pyotr Svyatopolk-Mirsky, an intelligent conservative liberal, resigned from the post of minister of the interior. He had tried to find common ground with the district and regional opposition on the eve of the revolution. He was replaced by a clever but inflexible bureaucrat, political heavyweight Alexander Bulygin. On February 18, 1905, the Emperor sent him a special rescript announcing his wish “to draw the most respectable and honest persons, whom people trust and elect to participate in a preliminary discussion and drafting of legislative proposals.” Thus the prospect emerged in Russia for a consultative legal body that would continue the initiative of Alexander II, which was cut short by the populist fighters who killed him in 1881.

Few contemporaries could understand that state development in Russia beginning after February 1905 took a confused and inconsistent course. Under the impact of growing disturbances and discord, power made the first serious step toward political transformations, prior to social ones. The prolonged procrastination of the reform of the peasant community, plus the general crisis that began in 1905, made the Emperor meet the aspirations of the politically advanced and active minority halfway, ignoring the possible consequences of these transformations for the backward masses. Metaphorically speaking, in an attempt to catch up with time lost during the reign of Alexander III, his son was forced “to place the cart before the horse.” There were few responsible citizens in the vast majority of the population of Russia, yet outlines of a State Duma began to emerge.

The situation was further exacerbated because the proposal of the ruling camp was not to the liking of the socialists or most of the radical constitutionalists of the district and regional councils. The country remained tense, disturbances were on the increase, and the number of those killed and wounded grew all the time. There were also cases of unrest in the army and navy. For the sake of truth and justice, it should be pointed out that, aside from the mutinies on the warships Prince Potyomkin Tavrichesky and Ochakov glorified by Soviet propaganda, the overwhelming number of men and officers in the army and navy remained loyal to their oath. This was demonstrated in 1905-1907, when the army proved an important factor in the defeat of the revolution.

We have no enemies on the left!

In the spring of 1905, professional people (lawyers, doctors, teachers, engineers, telegraph employees, agronomists, etc.) formed several trade unions that merged in one big Union in Moscow in May. It was set up not so much to defend professional rights as to bring political pressure to bear on the ruling authorities. Pavel Milyukov became one of the leaders of the big union. It demanded that the authorities immediately introduce a constitution, universal electoral rights and even convene a Constituent Assembly in Russia. Luckily, sober-minded public and state figures were not carried away by political passions. The liberal-conservative minority in the district and regional councils headed by Dmitry Shipov took a more realistic position and expressed their readiness to support the government, for they feared the deteriorating situation.

In their view, a modern state system could not emerge and become stable without a compromise with historical Russian power. However, the greater part of the public shared the illusions of Milyukov, who saw the reason for Russia’s lagging behind European political life in the difficult Russian past. Revolution did not scare the majority of the intelligentsia, who dreamed of attaining, with the help of the Bolsheviks and socialist-revolutionaries, “freedom and civil rights.” They did not realize that the revolutionary radicals represented a mortal threat precisely to freedom and civil rights. The news of the utter defeat of the Russian Navy at Tsusima in the Russo-Japanese War only added fuel to the fire. The catastrophe was all the more shameful because the outcome of the battle at Tsusima did not influence the situation on the ground, where, by the summer of 1905, fresh Russian divisions outnumbered the tired and emaciated Japanese troops. The commander of the 1st Army in Manchuria, General Alexei Kuropatkin exclaimed in despair, “Why isn’t it possible to instill a feeling of patriotism in the Russian intelligentsia for at least half a year?!”

On June 6, Nicholas II received a delegation of deputies from district and regional councils representing both wings of the liberal movement. It was headed by Sergei Trubetskoi, professor at Moscow University, who delivered an impassioned speech before the Emperor, emphasizing the need to introduce popular representation. The Emperor confirmed his previous intention and it would seem that common ground between power and the opposition was found. However, the liberal majority was going left very rapidly. The lawyer Ivan Petrunkevich publicly declared that the movement had “no enemies on the left.” He called on his supporters to turn to the people, not the czar. After lengthy discussions, in which the Emperor took part, a law was published on August 6, 1905, introducing a consultative Duma, which was nicknamed the “Bulygin Duma.” It had the right to discuss bills and the state budget, address inquiries to the government and point out unlawful actions by the authorities. This was obvious progress for the Russian state, which had had no representative bodies of power for over 200 years. But, at the time of revolution, no progress seems significant to its participants. The revolutionary parties and the Union rejected the consultative Duma.

Simultaneously with the decree on the State Duma, an interesting memorandum was presented to the Emperor, written, it is believed, by Alexander Krivoshein, one of the most outstanding persons among the liberal-conservative state figures of Russia in the beginning of the 20th century. The author of the memorandum pointed out the need to set up a strong power in the form of an enlarged Council of Ministers to oppose the Duma. But he also warned against turning the Duma into a legal center to prepare a revolution to destroy the entire civic and political system. Krivoshein did not deny the usefulness of the Duma in principle, but he asked whether Russia really needed a Duma at that crucial moment of history. In the final analysis, the words of this man, who later implemented the Stolypin reform, proved prophetic. Weakness of civil freedom and immaturity of political experience, coupled with the incapacity of most Duma deputies to practical work turned the Duma of 1905-1906 into a real center for a revolutionary coup. However, in August 1905, the socio-political situation was so tense that there was simply no alternative to the introduction of the State Duma.

Count Witte’s hour of triumph

Having suffered great losses in manpower, especially at Port Arthur, Japan could hardly continue military hostilities in Manchuria. Japanese casualties totaled 225,000 killed and wounded, to Russia’s 161,000. Japan’s economy was exhausted from the enormous military expenditures, whereas Russia did not experience any economic difficulties due to the war, and did not even take gold out of circulation. However, from the sum total of successes in previous tactical battles, and due to the defeat of the Russian Navy at Tsusima, Japan found itself in a more favorable position. Because of the wide scope of the revolutionary movement in the country, Nicholas II could not bring the war in the Far East to its logical end, and agreed to peace negotiations in Portsmouth in the United States. Count Sergei Witte, who headed the Russian delegation, signed a peace treaty with Japan on August 23, 1905, on more-or-less acceptable conditions for Russia, rejecting excessive Japanese demands.

Witte returned to Russia from the United States in the middle of September and was struck by the revolutionary chaos that was broadening with every passing day. Bloody clashes took place in the streets of Moscow, Kiev and other cities between supporters and opponents of the revolution, which often ended as criminal raids. Policemen were killed by the dozens. Bolsheviks and socialist-revolutionary fighting units openly collected money in Moscow to buy arms. Maxim Gorky donated 15,000 rubles, and the “red industrialists” Savva Morozov and Nikolai Schmidt gave 35,000 rubles for that purpose. The creation of councils of workers’ deputies as alternative bodies of power was discussed in the revolutionary medium. Things were no less tense in St. Petersburg, Kiev, Tiflis and elsewhere. Estates of German settlers were burning in the Baltic provinces. Count Witte often stressed the need either to introduce martial law or grant a real constitution.

At the beginning of October, a national political strike was declared. By October 10, it had spread to all Moscow-area railways. The railwaymen were supported by postal and telegraph workers. Shops, restaurants, banks, chemist shops, cabarets, etc. were closed. The telephone, telegraph and transport didn’t function. Business life was at a standstill. A wave of bankruptcies swept Moscow and St. Petersburg, especially in the garment industry and light manufacturing. Lenin wrote from peaceful Switzerland to the Petersburg “Fighting Committee” of the RSDRP [Russian Social-Democratic Workers’ Party], “I observe with horror – horror! – that people have been talking about bombs for more than six months, but not a single one has really been made. Organize fighting units everywhere immediately…” Pistol shots were heard in the streets as “red” and “black” militias clashed. The life of ordinary citizens turned into a nightmare…

Later Witte wrote, “At the beginning of October, we came to a conclusion on the need to solve the problem, and now we have arrived at the great act – the Manifesto of October 17.” On October 8, he worked out a draft program of reforms and the next day, during his meeting with the Emperor, he firmly stated that he saw no other way out except the introduction of military dictatorship or constitutional transformations. He submitted the corresponding memorandum to the Emperor. He conditioned his taking the chairmanship of the cabinet on the acceptance of his proposals. Witte emphasized the importance of Nicholas II’s decision, after which “return to the former order of things would be unthinkable.”

There is no doubt that the next few days were the most crucial in Emperor’s life. If Witte’s program were turned down, there would have been bloodshed suppressing the chaos, inasmuch as the army was still loyal to the throne. Then the prospects of the dictatorship would be dim. But radical constitutional transformations would mean, first of all, conscious self-restraint of the power of the monarch, a painful refutation of his convictions that inviolable autocracy was the best form of government for Russia. The idea of the czar’s just care about the whole country and its people ceded its place to the idea of the personal independence of his charges. The Emperor was not power-thirsty. But for him the question of changing the foundations of the state system was indissolubly linked with that of fulfilling his duty before God as monarch, as he swore during his coronation on May 14, 1896. He was also worried by the irreversible character of the transformations and the people’s unpreparedness for the political structure on which the public opposition, many government and state figures and Witte personally insisted.

On the night of October 15, Sergei Witte and Prince Alexei Obolensky drew up a draft of the Manifesto. For the next two days, it was discussed under the chairmanship of the Emperor. The wording of certain points caused disagreements. The ruling camp was not united. State Council member Ivan Goremykin, for example, objected to the adoption and publication of the Manifesto on principle, whereas Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolayevich threatened to commit suicide if the Emperor did not sign it.

The point on the legislative powers of the Duma was the greatest obstacle, because its adoption would have meant a definite restriction of the rights of the autocrat. But Witte was firm and said that he would resign if the Duma remained a purely consultative body. “We should believe in the political tact of Russian society, for it is unthinkable to imagine that it wishes anarchy,” Witte wrote, relying on the support of the liberals in the struggle against the revolution. On the evening of October 17, Nicholas II had a final meeting with Witte, Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolayevich and Count Frederiks, the minister of the court. He hesitated, then signed the Manifesto, with which, in his heart of hearts, he could not reconcile himself right up to 1917. The Emperor signed the historic document late on the night of October 17. Two days, later Witte took the post of the chairman of the cabinet. His ultimatums to Nicholas II and his difficult character did not contribute to his career, which proved rather short.

The Manifesto of October 17, 1905, was a milestone in the history of the Russian state, an outstanding act, despite the outside pressure through which it came into being. The Council of Ministers was obliged to fulfill the will of the Emperor, granting his subjects “real inviolability of personal immunity, freedom of conscience, speech, assembly and unions,” broadening electoral rights for citizens who “were deprived of these rights, and to see to it that no law could go into force without the approval of the State Duma.” The latter clause presupposed division of power which was meant to effect the conversion to a constitutional system.

Revolutionary chaos at the time of the adoption of the Manifesto, as well as the complete political inexperience of society, and the absolute unpreparedness of the people for life and activity in the new Duma monarchy proved serious obstacles to the realization of the Manifesto. This could be seen in Milyukov’s words right after its proclamation, “Nothing has changed. The war continues.” Peasant unrest went on and the radical revolutionary elements feverishly stepped up their preparations for an armed uprising. However, power demonstrated not only its readiness to implement the principles proclaimed by the Manifesto, but also to defend them resolutely. That was why sober-minded witnesses to the events associated revolution with crime, arbitrariness and violence against the normal way of life. The Manifesto created the necessary conditions for the “Basic State Laws of the Russian Empire” in 1906, which, in our view, was the only full-fledged and real Russian Constitution in the country’s history. It is no less important that, in the atmosphere created by the Manifesto, the strong and responsible person of Pyotr Stolypin could emerge, who could properly evaluate the need for profound social reforms to save not only law and order and civil rights and freedoms, but Russia itself.



Post Edited (04-09-07 17:39)