Russian Peasantry

The relationship between the Tsar and the peasantry of Russia was a complicated one, which hearkened back to medieval Europe yet survived until late in Romanov history.  The overwhelming majority of Russians were peasants – between 80-90% – and were still peasants into the midst of the 20th century.[1]  One of the biggest challenges faced by the Romanov dynasty in their 300-year reign was pushing Russia towards modernization in an effort to catch up with much of the rest of the world while still maintaining the traditions and culture that helped make Russia Russia.[2]  Although serfdom was not codified into law until 1649, in the middle of the 17th century roughly half of the peasants in Russia would be considered slaves to the modern eye – they were property that could be sold and purchased and their offspring inherited their slave-like status.[3]  The other half were simply the property of either the royal family or the church whose taxes were tendered directly to them rather than their noble lords.[4]  Although some peasants believed that they had the right to the land they worked primarily because they worked it, but they also viewed the Tsar as divinely appointed and the people’s ‘little father’ who could be appealed to for help.[5]

The role of the peasantry and it’s push towards modernization was a topic faced by many of the Tsars throughout the Romanov period.  Catherine recognized that the existence of serfs that made up 90% of the population of her country was at odds with her desire to civilize Russia and make it a more modern state.[6]  For Catherine, however, the initial problem was the noble’s abuse of the serf system rather than the existence of serfs themselves.[7]  This thinking began to shift as Catherine acknowledged the necessary end of serfdom in Russia, but the people were simply not ready for liberation and to do so would cause an economic catastrophe.[8]   Despite the inherent unfairness of serfdom in the Russian system, it was producing the food and agriculture was necessary for Russia’s success.[9]

Alexander II was to end serfdom only at the end of the 19th century out of a recognition that firstly it was a system that was incompatible with Russia’s existence as a modern state as well as a fear of peasant revolt that could topple not only the economy but the state’s stability overall.[10]

[1] Lindsey Hughes, The Romanovs: Ruling Russia 1613-1917, (London: Bloomsbury, 2008) 4.

[2] Hughes, The Romanovs, 4.

[3] Hughes, The Romanovs, 21.

[4] Hughes, The Romanovs, 21.

[5] Hughes, The Romanovs, 21.

[6] Hughes, The Romanovs, 119.

[7] Hughes, The Romanovs, 119.

[8] Hughes, The Romanovs, 119.

[9] Hughes, The Romanovs, 120.

[10] Hughes, The Romanovs, 181.


Russian Nobility

Russian nobility, from before the foundation of the traditional “Russia” known today through the assassination of Tsar Nicholas II had a peculiar yet somewhat familiar relationship not only with the peasant class under them but to the Tsars above them.  Initially, Russian elite saw themselves in much the same way that peasants saw the ruling class – they were little more than slaves whose purpose was to serve the Tsar who was divinely appointed over them.[1]  Yet much was to change in their relationship with the royal family in the next three centuries, through periods of court intrigue, upheaval, violence and ultimately revolution.

Initially, the elite class in Russia found competition amongst themselves far more useful than challenging the Tsar for power directly.[2]  The Romanovs themselves commanded not only respect from their elite class but loyalty to the throne and the royal family as well, which was pivotal to the family’s success for three hundred years, despite bumps along the way.[3]

Gradually, however, under the reigns of Peter the Great, the nobility began to realize that their position in the fatherland was not what others in similar positions enjoyed throughout Europe, and began to act as though they had the right to be granted certain freedoms and concessions by the ruling family.[4]  Peter’s focus on education and the sciences, for example, paved the way for the future intelligentsia and the nobles had to contend with others who were educated and searching for their own paths of social mobility and threatening at least in some measure the status-quo.  Even more radical, Peter’s table of ranks altered the inheritable nature of the nobility, and ranks could not be purchased or inherited from one’s relatives and had to be earned through merit rather than birthright.[5]  This made the noble families even more competitive with each other as well as from those of non-noble birth.[6]

Catherine took Peter’s model for the nobility and pushed it still further, beginning with her Statute of Provincial Reform in 1775 which the belief that nobles owed a duty to the state, and not just a management of their own affairs by taking positions like judges in a growingly decentralized government.[7]  To follow the statue, Catherine implemented the Charter of Nobility which granted freedom to the Russian nobility forever – what could be argued as a step towards civil rights – at least for the Russian elite.[8] Despite her progress, however, and the progress of her descendants, Autocracy remained a constant in Russia and a growing number of nobles sought a form of representative government and a sense of shared power with the monarch long before revolution was to break out in the reign of Nicholas II.  This discontent would rise in the rank of the elite and become a force that would ultimately overturn the autocracy and plunge Russia into its communist era.

[1] Lindsey Hughes, The Romanovs: Ruling Russia 1613-1917, (London: Bloomsbury, 2008), 19.

[2] Hughes, The Romanovs, 19.

[3] Hughes, The Romanovs, 19.

[4] Hughes, The Romanovs, 69.

[5] Hughes, The Romanovs, 78.

[6] Hughes, The Romanovs, 79.

[7] Hughes, The Romanovs, 117.

[8] Hughes, The Romanovs, 118.

Russian Aristocracy

According to tradition since the establishment of the Russian state, harmony between the tsar and his people was of utmost importance.[1]  The tsar was expected to be a strong and central leader while consulting and heeding the advice of his powerful, elite subjects – the boyars.[2]  In turn, the boyars were expected to serve and council the tsar and be loyal to his leadership.[3]  Under the rule of Peter the Great, however, this system did not function according to plan, which led to Peter’s mistrust of the long-standing boyar families and his desire to operate outside of their council.  The boyars, in turn, opposed many of Peter’s desired reforms and fought amongst themselves.  This conflict remained a consistent part of Peter’s reign, but led to increased mistrust and reforms on the part of the tsar in regards to rank, government structure and the construction of the Russian state.

From almost the beginning of his rule, Peter viewed the boyars of the Russian elite as an impediment to his grander plans, rather than in the traditional role of advisers.[4]  As early as 1697, members of the boyar elite conspired to remove and replace Peter due to his break with Russian tradition.[5]  The elite further did not hesitate to oppose Peter’s wishes, both in terms of his divorce and his nomination of the Patriarch Adrian.[6]  A further musketeer revolt led to executions for open result against the tsar.[7]  The investigation into the rebellion encouraged Peter’s mistrust – not only of the boyars – but of the clergy as well.[8]  Peter hated rivalries between boyar families in their endless struggle for power, and that combined with the musketeer’s rebellion contributed to Peter’s first attempt at drastically changing the structure of Russian government.[9]  He began by removing the taxation system from under the control of the boyars and he began personally handling foreign policy in order to further avoid their input.[10]  While Peter could avoid soliciting the boyar recommendations in the duma, they still held the majority of the highest military commands.[11]  While many aristocrats still held powerful positions, new state structures allowed Peter to go around them in order to enact the changes he desired.[12]  Peter stopped consulting the duma entirely and began making all state decisions himself with the help of a handful of his favorites.[13]  Peter’s suspicion of the boyars was not unfounded, and he believed their complaints over his policies to be the beginning of covert opposition to his will.[14]

The trial of the tsarevich Aleksei directly contributed to new changes and reforms under Peter’s rule.  Given its lack of central government, Peter already desired another sweeping change and the trial gave him the opportunity to enact it.[15]  Nine colleges or administrative boards were formed to take control of different aspects of daily governance.[16]  These colleges lasted through the 18th century.[17]  The majority of the presidents of these colleges were not from the aristocratic families.[18]  An additional check was placed on the college’s presidents by requiring a majority vote of the board in order to enact changes.[19]  A new taxation system was put into place which created a further distinction between serfs and the gentry.[20]  In addition, the table of ranks allowed a visual understanding of rank and the promotional ladder for both members of the military and civil service.[21]

Under Peter’s rule was the ‘first appearance of a conservative, aristocratic ideology that persisted in Russia throughout the 18th century’.[22]  These nobles did not oppose the introduction of Western ideology or culture as much as they desired the power and stability of old noble families within government and in close collaboration with the tsar.  As Bushkovitch mentions in his introduction, Peter’s time on the throne was a continual struggle for power between the tsar and his elite – a struggle that Peter ultimately won.[23]  While the boyars had no problem resisting Peter, the tsar saw it and the continuation of boyar rivalries as disloyalty which further cemented his commitment to Russian reform.[24]

[1] Paul Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2016) 54.

[2] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 54.

[3] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 54.

[4] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 68.

[5] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 79.

[6] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 81.

[7] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 81.

[8] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 82.

[9] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 83.

[10] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 84.

[11] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 88.

[12] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 89.

[13] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 89.

[14] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 89.

[15] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 129.

[16] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 129.

[17] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 129.

[18] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 129.

[19] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 129.

[20] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 131.

[21] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 131.

[22] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 140.

[23] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 1.

[24] Bushkovitch, Peter the Great, 7.

American Historiographical Trends

One of the most interesting thing I learned about history when I decided I wanted to go back to school in order to be a history major was that it was not at all what I thought it was when I suffered through it in high school.  At younger ages, we’re given lists of names, dates, places, etc. and told to memorize them and it’s called history.  In college, however, you learn that history is vibrant and subjective and not a set of unquestionable facts that parade across time with snapshots being taken of them through historical tomes.  I love that history is expanding – and not just the history of tomorrow that we’re living today – but ancient, medieval and Renaissance history as well.  As new information, arguments and interpretations are discovered, history grows along with it, and the ability to change and challenge our thinking on any given subject based on available evidence or schools of thought is part of what makes history so interesting for me, personally.  In Interpretations of American History that we read this first week of class, it is made abundantly clear that it is not possible to write history purely objectively, and that all history is informed and filtered through the lens of the present.[1]  That does not, however mean that it is less valuable or meaningful.  The dangers inherent in writing present-minded history are varied, but the most obvious would be including clear and unapologetic cultural, ethnic or national biases and distorting interpretations of the past in order to fit an agenda in the present.  Present historians can counter even unconscious bias, however, by engaging with differing interpretations, expanding the scope of study and putting the study of history into a broader context by which their topic can be better understood and expanded.

The Post-Modern interpretation of history would indicate that opinion and history are virtually indistinguishable.[2]  While it is accurate to acknowledge that the study and writing of history is truly the writing of interpretations of past events and not merely a recitation of facts, dates and events, that does not necessarily mean that it is determined solely by opinion and its value is therefore reduced.  History can – and does – produce truth, although that truth can be varied depending on the particular focus or interpretation of it.  Like the interpretations of texts, meaning can be varied leading to divergent schools of thought but that hardly means that there is no truth in them – even when they disagree with each other.  The historical record – or our understanding of it through time – is something that binds the historians to the past in ways that novel writers are not, and there is a big difference between interpreting the record in different ways and making it up to suit a particular purpose.  To say that there can be no truth in history, as explained in Interpretations of American History, is to make the same mistake that positivists made by claiming the historical process could be achieved through the scientific method – only in the opposite direction.[3]  Not all history – and not all historians – are equal, and some are far more reliable and faithful to the historical record than others.  Research, cross-referencing, independent study and the study of historiography through time all can lead to history which is as close to objective as possible, especially as it goes through the peer review process and field discussion/disagreement.

The early period of American Historiography was known as Providential.  Under this religious perspective, early American colonists saw the hand of the divine in everything.  Good events were the blessing of God – rewards for living according to His standards.  Similarly, disasters, failed crops, etc. were the hand of the devil or punishment for collective sins of the community that needed to be atoned for.  The excerpts assigned from William Bradford highlight this historiographical school explicitly both in the persecution the Puritans experienced in Europe, the hardships they experienced trying to flee and in their journey to the New World.  While still in England, Bradford describes the differing opinions and doctrines within the body of Christ as Satan’s attempt to destroy God’s kingdom by spreading dissention, rather than simply attributing it to differing values or opinions.[4]  Again, in 1608, although the Puritans faced the daunting task of leaving their homes and finding a new place to live, they did not worry about them because they “rested on His (God’s) providence” and had faith that he would bring them through.[5]  When the traveler’s reached the new world, Bradford was again certain that because they acted in a Godly manner, the pilgrims could expect the blessing of God on their new endeavor to settle and claim a new land in His name.[6]

Growing out of providential historiography yet seemingly counter to it was the Rationalist historiography that was embraced and explained by many of the nation’s founding fathers, including Thomas Jefferson as evident in his excerpt we were assigned to read this week.  Rationalist historiography separated itself from the ‘unenlightened’ providential school and its main focus was on reason and progress.  Science was a big part of rationalist thought, and examples of it are scattered throughout Jefferson’s work.

Jefferson’s perspectives on the Native Americans that prepopulated the land is a foreshadowing of the nationalist historiography which will be examined next, and he took a scientific approach to describing their “savageness” by explaining that, since they were never under any form of national law or organized government, resulting in the splintering of many different tribes or societies.[7]  He also importantly makes the distinction that land was not taken from the Native Americans by force, but rather by agreement, trade and legal purchase.[8]  His further postulations on ancestry of the Native Americans as descendants of the natives of Eastern Asia, or visa versa also shows rational, reasonable thought.[9]  As revolution loomed on the horizon, Jefferson indicated that – given the show of force and due to the rational ideologies of those in the colonies – no other option except armed resistance against tyranny was feasible.[10]  Reason, logic and a scientific approach to administering the new country as well as legal precedents including those of slavery and its correctness flow through the rest of the assigned text.

The Nationalist historiographical school certainly grew out of both the Providential and Rationalist schools in certain ways.  Certainly, as was seen in Jefferson’s writing, the primacy of the Anglo-Saxon race over “primitive” Africans and Native Americans was considered truth long before the Nationalist school of thought rose to prominence.  Francis Parkman’s work on Western expansion and colonization of the American West certainly showcase the belief that Anglo Americans had the right to take almost anything they could set their eyes on, regardless of any prior inhabitants, the cultures, history or lives of those who had come before them.  Settlers were described as apprehensive over what new adventures awaited them in the new lands ahead, and expressed nervousness over encounters with the native ‘savages’ whose land they were traveling across and settling within.[11]  Yet, without any misgivings whatsoever, the men exploring the territory felt confident in the belief that it was their right and their destiny to explore and make a new life for themselves wherever they saw fit.[12]  The local Native American tribe they encountered, the Pawnees, were described as not only cowardly but treacherous as well, and therefore well deserving of any punishment (including apparently the seizure of lands) that the government (that they didn’t acknowledge or necessarily even know about) saw fit to give them.[13]

[1] Francis G. Couvares, Martha Saxton, Gerald N. Grob and George Athan Billias, eds., “Introduction to U.S. Historiography,” in  Interpretations of American History, (Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2009), 2.                

[2] Couvares, 2.

[3] Couvares, 2.

[4] William Bradford, Bradford’s History of Plymouth Plantation 1606-1646, ed. William T. Davis (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1908): 25,

[5] Bradford, Bradford’s History of Plymouth Plantation, 33.

[6] Bradford, Bradford’s History of Plymouth Plantation, 48.

[7] Thomas Jefferson, Notes on the State of Virginia, (Chapel Hill: UNC Chapel Hill, 2006), 100,

[8] Jefferson, Notes on the State of Virginia, 101.

[9] Jefferson, Notes on the State of Virginia, 107.

[10] Jefferson, Notes on the State of Virginia, 124.

[11] Francis Parkman, The Oregon Trail, ed. William Ellery Leonard (Boston: Ginn and Company, 1849),

[12] Parkman, The Oregon Trail.

[13] Parkman, The Oregon Trail.


After WWII ended and the Soviet regime was victorious, they quickly realized that they had a problem.  Multitudes of former soldiers, refugees and citizens were no longer isolated from Western ideals or standards of living.  For Stalin and Andrei Zhdanov, this was a problem that needed to be immediately addressed and corrected before Western influence gained further ground and potentially undermined the regime.[1]  Numerous writers and publishers were criticized for falling under the influence of the Western bourgeois.[2]  Zhdanov published a report demanding that Russian writers be guided by politics and the party in order to maintain and preserve the country’s revolutionary spirit.[3]  Contrary to the spirit of many Western writers, Zhdanov demanded that art could not be ‘art for art’s sake.’[4]  Instead, writing was to play a pivotal role in the social life and development of the Russian people, and therefore had to be aligned with party ideologies, policies and politics.[5]  The fact that Stalin announced that writers were ‘engineers of human souls’ meant that Russian writers and publishers had a responsibility not only to the party, but to the Russian people as well.[6]  Mistakes and ideological blunders had to be corrected immediately, and no perceived weakness would be tolerated.[7]

For Stalin and Zhdanov alike, the victory in war had strengthened the position of socialism on the world stage, and that strength needed to be preserved and enhanced internationally as Russia rebuilt.[8]  Soviet literature, therefore, not only had to refute the false accusations made against socialism on an international stage, it had to attach the western bourgeois culture that stood against it as well to demonstrate socialism’ superiority.[9]  The purpose of literature, therefore, under the policy of Zhdanov was to educate people – nationally and internationally – on the ideologies inherent in socialism by utilizing socialist realism, which would allow no weakness in socialism to be expressed.[10]  The impact it would have on writers would be tremendous.  It not only told them what to write, but how to write it, and failure to do so could result in censorship or worse.  They had to strictly adhere to the party line, which was not fixed but changeable depending on circumstances.  They had to be continually up to date or risk publishing something that was already outdated by the time it reached the press.

[1] Robert V. Daniels (editor), A Documentary History of Communism in Russia, (Hanover: University Press of New England, 1993), 235.

[2] Daniels, A Documentary History, 235.

[3] Daniels, A Documentary History, 236.

[4] Daniels, A Documentary History, 236.

[5] Daniels, A Documentary History, 236.

[6] Daniels, A Documentary History, 236.

[7] Daniels, A Documentary History, 236.

[8] Daniels, A Documentary History, 236.

[9] Daniels, A Documentary History, 236.

[10] Daniels, A Documentary History, 237.

Bodies and Souls

There is no comparable word for the middle class in the Russian language.[1]  The closest word that can come close to describing a middle class in post-World War II Russia is the term “meshchanstsvo.”[2]  Even in broad terms, this term does not equitably describe the soviet middle class, but it does describe many of their characteristics, mannerisms and values – and also their opponents.  The mentality of the meshchanstvo is prejudicial, vulgar and greedy, aspiring to careerism and personal, material possessions.[3] The unity between the party and the meshchanstvo created a new social order, allowed for social mobility and ultimately served to unite a country that had been broken and splintered after many years of total war.[4]

Opposed to the meshchanstvo were the intelligentsia, which remembered the past, remembering and worrying over social wrongs and lives in a cycle of continual dissatisfaction, relishing the ideals of self-sacrifice for social good.[5]  Where the intelligentsia saw social wrongs, inequality and the overwhelming balance of history, the meshchanstvo were happy to remain ignorant, focusing instead on their upward mobility and material gains.[6]

Similarly, Dunham describes briefly the difference between kultura and kulturnost.    Kultura, embraced by the intelligentsia, embraced a high-brow culture, fusing together knowledge, history and ideologies that sought to place the bar of culture in Russia higher.[7]  Kulternost, on the other hand, it simply described the way that people were expected to behave in the public sphere.[8]  It embraced conservatism and sought to present the Soviet culture and its people as self-righteous and dignified both internally and abroad.[9]

Given these two opposing positions, when Dunham mentions that Stalin as the country’s ultimate, nearly omnipotent ruler, desired for his citizen’s bodies, not their souls, it brings to mind an ideology that focused more on right-actions, exemplifying kulternost, rather than right-thoughts or beliefs.  Meshchanstvo were not ideologs, they were careerists who sought to improve their social stations and increase their material possessions.  They were therefore not interested in examining Soviet history, poking into issues of social justice and equality or bringing up the legacy of pain and want that had plagued Russia since the Revolution with few peaceful interludes.  While her conclusion is compelling in some ways, it falls short in others.  Stalin was most definitely interested in what his subjects were thinking – he demanded absolute loyalty, and that would be defined not only how people behaved, but what they said and did both in private and public spheres.  Even thinking or questioning the party’s policies or their implementations was tantamount to treason in Stalin’s Russia, and while the bodies were important to do the necessary work of rebuilding the country, loyalty in action, in word and in thought was required of all faithful citizens as well.

[1] Verna S. Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, (Durham, Duke University Press, 1990), 19.

[2] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 19.

[3] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 19.

[4] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 162.

[5] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 21.

[6] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 21.

[7] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 22.

[8] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 22.

[9] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 22.

Stalin’s Big Deal

In her pivotal work, historian Vera Dunham points out that after the war, Stalin and the party were faced with a decision – they could choose to honor the promises and concessions that they had granted to their people during the war in order to garner their support or to abandon it completely.  Instead of choosing either side, the party chose a middle ground – making an effective treaty with some of these people.[1]  This treaty was between the party and the middle class, which Dunam terms “the big deal.”  The Communist party needed a way to rebuild the country from the destruction faced by war, and the middle class was its best option.[2]  The regime needed a dependable and dedicated force of workers, and to gain the support of the middle class, the party was willing to accommodate pre-eminent middle-class values in order to keep the status quo in balance.[3]

This treaty was mutually beneficial to both parties.  The regime received loyalty, hard work, commitment, professional dedication and nationalism.[4]  The middle class did not leave this arrangement empty handed.  They wanted incentives which would include luxuries, time off and better housing – material possessions that would foster a sense of security, beauty and normalcy.[5]  Ultimately this arrangement worked for the simple reason that both sides desperately needed it to.[6]  Although the Big Deal fundamentally opposed some of the ideologies and tenants espoused by Marxism, neither the party or the middle class was particularly interested in ideology during this period.[7]  They were able to work together in order to stabilize a country that had been devastated by war and desperately needed stability in order to rebuild, grow and become one of the world’s superpowers in the wake of one of the most brutal and bloody wars in history.

[1] Vera S Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, (Durham: Duke University Press, 1990), 13.

[2] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 13.

[3] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 14.

[4] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 17.

[5] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 17.

[6] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 187.

[7] Dunham, In Stalin’s Time, 17.