THE ZEMSTVO AND THE LOCAL SELF-GOVERNMENT
Necessity of Reorganising the Provincial Administration--Zemstvo Created
in 1864--My First Acquaintance with the Institution--District and
Provincial Assemblies--The Leading Members--Great Expectations Created
by the Institution--These Expectations Not Realised--Suspicions and
Hostility of the Bureaucracy--Zemstvo Brought More Under Control of the
Centralised Administration--What It Has Really Done--Why It Has Not
Done More---Rapid Increase of the Rates--How Far the Expenditure
Is Judicious--Why the Impoverishment of the Peasantry Was
Neglected--Unpractical, Pedantic Spirit--Evil Consequences--Chinese and
Russian Formalism--Local Self-Government of Russia Contrasted with That
of England--Zemstvo Better than Its Predecessors--Its Future.
After the emancipation of the serfs the reform most urgently required
was the improvement of the provincial administration. In the time of
serfage the Emperor Nicholas, referring to the landed proprietors, used
to say in a jocular tone that he had in his Empire 50,000 most zealous
and efficient hereditary police-masters. By the Emancipation Law the
authority of these hereditary police-masters was for ever abolished, and
it became urgently necessary to put something else in its place. Peasant
self-government was accordingly organised on the basis of the rural
Commune; but it fell far short of meeting the requirements of the
situation. Its largest unit was the Volost, which comprises merely a
few contiguous Communes, and its action is confined exclusively to the
peasantry. Evidently it was necessary to create a larger administrative
unit, in which the interests of all classes of the population could be
attended to, and for this purpose Alexander II. in November, 1859,
more than a year before the Emancipation Edict, instructed a special
Commission to prepare a project for giving to the inefficient,
dislocated provincial administration greater unity and independence. The
project was duly prepared, and after being discussed in the Council
of State it received the Imperial sanction in January, 1864. It was
supposed to give, in the words of an explanatory memorandum attached
to it, "as far as possible a complete and logical development to the
principle of local self-government." Thus was created the Zemstvo,*
which has recently attracted considerable attention in Western Europe,
and which is destined, perhaps, to play a great political part in the
future.
* The term Zemstvo is derived from the word Zemlya, meaning
land, and might be translated, if a barbarism were
permissible, by Land-dom on the analogy of Kingdom, Dukedom,
etc.
My personal acquaintance with this interesting institution dates from
1870. Very soon after my arrival at Novgorod in that year, I made the
acquaintance of a gentleman who was described to me as "the president
of the provincial Zemstvo-bureau," and finding him amiable and
communicative, I suggested that he might give me some information
regarding the institution of which he was the chief local
representative. With the utmost readiness he proposed to be my Mentor,
introduced me to his colleagues, and invited me to come and see him
at his office as often as I felt inclined. Of this invitation I made
abundant use. At first my visits were discreetly few and short, but when
I found that my new friend and his colleagues really wished to instruct
me in all the details of Zemstvo administration, and had arranged a
special table in the president's room for my convenience, I became a
regular attendant, and spent daily several hours in the bureau, studying
the current affairs, and noting down the interesting bits of statistical
and other information which came before the members, as if I had been
one of their number. When they went to inspect the hospital, the lunatic
asylum, the seminary for the preparation of village schoolmasters, or
any other Zemstvo institution, they invariably invited me to accompany
them, and made no attempt to conceal from me the defects which they
happened to discover.
I mention all this because it illustrates the readiness of most Russians
to afford every possible facility to a foreigner who wishes seriously to
study their country. They believe that they have long been misunderstood
and systematically calumniated by foreigners, and they are extremely
desirous that the prevalent misconceptions regarding their country
should be removed. It must be said to their honour that they have
little or none of that false patriotism which seeks to conceal national
defects; and in judging themselves and their institutions they are
inclined to be over-severe rather than unduly lenient. In the time
of Nicholas I. those who desired to stand well with the Government
proclaimed loudly that they lived in the happiest and best-governed
country of the world, but this shallow official optimism has long since
gone out of fashion. During all the years which I spent in Russia I
found everywhere the utmost readiness to assist me in my investigations,
and very rarely noticed that habit of "throwing dust in the eyes of
foreigners," of which some writers have spoken so much.
The Zemstvo is a kind of local administration which supplements the
action of the rural Communes, and takes cognizance of those higher
public wants which individual Communes cannot possibly satisfy. Its
principal duties are to keep the roads and bridges in proper repair, to
provide means of conveyance for the rural police and other officials, to
look after primary education and sanitary affairs, to watch the state of
the crops and take measures against approaching famine, and, in short,
to undertake, within certain clearly defined limits, whatever seems
likely to increase the material and moral well-being of the population.
In form the institution is Parliamentary--that is to say, it consists
of an assembly of deputies which meets regularly once a year, and of
a permanent executive bureau elected by the Assembly from among its
members. If the Assembly be regarded as a local Parliament, the bureau
corresponds to the Cabinet. In accordance with this analogy my friend
the president was sometimes jocularly termed the Prime Minister. Once
every three years the deputies are elected in certain fixed proportions
by the landed proprietors, the rural Communes, and the municipal
corporations. Every province (guberniya) and each of the districts
(uyezdi) into which the province is subdivided has such an assembly and
such a bureau.
Not long after my arrival in Novgorod I had the opportunity of being
present at a District Assembly. In the ball-room of the "Club de la
Noblesse" I found thirty or forty men seated round a long table covered
with green cloth. Before each member lay sheets of paper for the purpose
of taking notes, and before the president--the Marshal of Noblesse for
the district--stood a small hand-bell, which he rang vigorously at the
commencement of the proceedings and on all the occasions when he wished
to obtain silence. To the right and left of the president sat the
members of the executive bureau (uprava), armed with piles of written
and printed documents, from which they read long and tedious extracts,
till the majority of the audience took to yawning and one or two of the
members positively went to sleep. At the close of each of these reports
the president rang his bell--presumably for the purpose of awakening the
sleepers--and inquired whether any one had remarks to make on what
had just been read. Generally some one had remarks to make, and not
unfrequently a discussion ensued. When any decided difference of opinion
appeared a vote was taken by handing round a sheet of paper, or by the
simpler method of requesting the Ayes to stand up and the Noes to sit
still.
What surprised me most in this assembly was that it was composed partly
of nobles and partly of peasants--the latter being decidedly in the
majority--and that no trace of antagonism seemed to exist between the
two classes. Landed proprietors and their ci-devant serfs, emancipated
only ten years before, evidently met for the moment on a footing of
equality. The discussions were carried on chiefly by the nobles, but on
more than one occasion peasant members rose to speak, and their remarks,
always clear, practical, and to the point, were invariably listened
to with respectful attention. Instead of that violent antagonism which
might have been expected, considering the constitution of the Assembly,
there was too much unanimity--a fact indicating plainly that the
majority of the members did not take a very deep interest in the matters
presented to them.
This assembly was held in the month of September. At the beginning of
December the Assembly for the Province met, and during nearly three
weeks I was daily present at its deliberations. In general character and
mode of procedure it resembled closely the District Assembly. Its chief
peculiarities were that its members were chosen, not by the primary
electors, but by the assemblies of the ten districts which compose the
province, and that it took cognisance merely of those matters which
concerned more than one district. Besides this, the peasant deputies
were very few in number--a fact which somewhat surprised me, because
I was aware that, according to the law, the peasant members of the
District Assemblies were eligible, like those of the other classes. The
explanation is that the District Assemblies choose their most active
members to represent them in the Provincial Assemblies, and consequently
the choice generally falls on landed proprietors. To this arrangement
the peasants make no objection, for attendance at the Provincial
Assemblies demands a considerable pecuniary outlay, and payment to the
deputies is expressly prohibited by law.
To give the reader an idea of the elements composing this assembly, let
me introduce him to a few of the members. A considerable section of them
may be described in a single sentence. They are commonplace men, who
have spent part of their youth in the public service as officers in the
army, or officials in the civil administration, and have since retired
to their estates, where they gain a modest competence by farming. Some
of them add to their agricultural revenue by acting as justices of the
peace.* A few may be described more particularly.
* That is no longer possible. The institution of justices
elected and paid by the Zemstvo was abolished in 1889.
You see there, for instance, that fine-looking old general in uniform,
with the St. George's Cross at his button-hole--an order given only for
bravery in the field. That is Prince Suvorof, a grandson of the famous
general. He has filled high posts in the Administration without ever
tarnishing his name by a dishonest or dishonourable action, and has
spent a great part of his life at Court without ceasing to be frank,
generous, and truthful. Though he has no intimate knowledge of current
affairs, and sometimes gives way a little to drowsiness, his sympathies
in disputed points are always on the right side, and when he gets to his
feet he always speaks in a clear soldierlike fashion.
The tall gaunt man, somewhat over middle age, who sits a little to
the left is Prince Vassiltchikof. He too, has an historic name, but he
cherishes above all things personal independence, and has consequently
always kept aloof from the Imperial Administration and the Court. The
leisure thus acquired he has devoted to study, and he has produced
several valuable works on political and social science. An enthusiastic
but at the same time cool-headed abolitionist at the time of the
Emancipation, he has since constantly striven to ameliorate the
condition of the peasantry by advocating the spread of primary
education, the rural credit associations in the village, the
preservation of the Communal institutions, and numerous important
reforms in the financial system. Both of these gentlemen, it is said,
generously gave to their peasants more land than they were obliged
to give by the Emancipation Law. In the Assembly Prince Vassiltchikof
speaks frequently, and always commands attention; and in all important
committees he is leading member. Though a warm defender of the Zemstvo
institutions, he thinks that their activity ought to be confined to
a comparatively narrow field, and he thereby differs from some of his
colleagues, who are ready to embark in hazardous, not to say fanciful,
schemes for developing the natural resources of the province. His
neighbour, Mr. P----, is one of the ablest and most energetic members
of the Assembly. He is president of the executive bureau in one of the
districts, where he has founded many primary schools and created several
rural credit associations on the model of those which bear the name of
Schultze Delitsch in Germany. Mr. S----, who sits beside him, was for
some years an arbiter between the proprietors and emancipated serfs,
then a member of the Provincial Executive Bureau, and is now director of
a bank in St. Petersburg.
To the right and left of the president--who is Marshal of Noblesse for
the province--sit the members of the bureau. The gentleman who reads
the long reports is my friend "the Prime Minister," who began life as
a cavalry officer, and after a few years of military service retired
to his estate; he is an intelligent, able administrator, and a man of
considerable literary culture. His colleague, who assists him in reading
the reports, is a merchant, and director of the municipal bank. The next
member is also a merchant, and in some respects the most remarkable
man in the room. Though born a serf, he is already, at middle age, an
important personage in the Russian commercial world. Rumour says that
he laid the foundation of his fortune by one day purchasing a copper
cauldron in a village through which he was passing on his way to St.
Petersburg, where he hoped to gain a little money by the sale of some
calves. In the course of a few years he amassed an enormous fortune; but
cautious people think that he is too fond of hazardous speculations, and
prophesy that he will end life as poor as he began it.
All these men belong to what may be called the party of progress, which
anxiously supports all proposals recognised as "liberal," and especially
all measures likely to improve the condition of the peasantry. Their
chief opponent is that little man with close-cropped, bullet-shaped head
and small piercing eyes, who may be called the Leader of the opposition.
He condemns many of the proposed schemes, on the ground that the
province is already overtaxed, and that the expenditure ought to be
reduced to the smallest possible figure. In the District Assembly
he preaches this doctrine with considerable success, for there the
peasantry form the majority, and he knows how to use that terse, homely
language, interspersed with proverbs, which has far more influence on
the rustic mind than scientific principles and logical reasoning; but
here, in Provincial Assembly, his following composes only a respectable
minority, and he confines himself to a policy of obstruction.
The Zemstvo of Novgorod had at that time the reputation of being one of
the most enlightened and energetic, and I must say that the proceedings
were conducted in a business-like, satisfactory way. The reports
were carefully considered, and each article of the annual budget was
submitted to minute scrutiny and criticism. In several of the provinces
which I afterwards visited I found that affairs were conducted in a very
different fashion: quorums were formed with extreme difficulty, and
the proceedings, when they at last commenced, were treated as mere
formalities and despatched as speedily as possible. The character of
the Assembly depends of course on the amount of interest taken in local
public affairs. In some districts this interest is considerable; in
others it is very near zero.
The birth of this new institution was hailed with enthusiasm, and
produced great expectations. At that time a large section of the Russian
educated classes had a simple, convenient criterion for institutions of
all kinds. They assumed as a self-evident axiom that the excellence
of an institution must always be in proportion to its "liberal" and
democratic character. The question as to how far it might be appropriate
to the existing conditions and to the character of the people, and as to
whether it might not, though admirable in itself, be too expensive for
the work to be performed, was little thought of. Any organisation which
rested on "the elective principle," and provided an arena for free
public discussion, was sure to be well received, and these conditions
were fulfilled by the Zemstvo.
The expectations excited were of various kinds. People who thought more
of political than economic progress saw in the Zemstvo the basis of
boundless popular liberty. Prince Yassiltchikof, for example, though
naturally of a phlegmatic temperament, became for a moment enthusiastic,
and penned the following words: "With a daring unparalleled in the
chronicles of the world, we have entered on the career of public life."
If local self-government in England had, in spite of its aristocratic
character, created and preserved political liberty, as had been proved
by several learned Germans, what might be expected from institutions so
much more liberal and democratic? In England there had never been county
parliaments, and the local administration had always been in the hands
of the great land-owners; whilst in Russia every district would have
its elective assembly, in which the peasant would be on a level with
the richest landed proprietors. People who were accustomed to think of
social rather than political progress expected that they would soon see
the country provided with good roads, safe bridges, numerous village
schools, well-appointed hospitals, and all the other requisites of
civilisation. Agriculture would become more scientific, trade and
industry would be rapidly developed, and the material, intellectual,
and moral condition of the peasantry would be enormously improved. The
listless apathy of provincial life and the hereditary indifference to
local public affairs were now, it was thought, about to be dispelled;
and in view of this change, patriotic mothers took their children to the
annual assemblies in order to accustom them from their early years to
take an interest in the public welfare.
It is hardly necessary to say that these inordinate expectations were
not realised. From the very beginning there had been a misunderstanding
regarding the character and functions of the new institutions. During
the short period of universal enthusiasm for reform the great officials
had used incautiously some of the vague liberal phrases then in fashion,
but they never seriously intended to confer on the child which they
were bringing into the world a share in the general government of the
country; and the rapid evaporation of their sentimental liberalism,
which began as soon as they undertook practical reforms, made them less
and less conciliatory. When the vigorous young child, therefore, showed
a natural desire to go beyond the humble functions accorded to it, the
stern parents proceeded to snub it and put it into its proper place.
The first reprimand was administered publicly in the capital. The
St. Petersburg Provincial Assembly, having shown a desire to play a
political part, was promptly closed by the Minister of the Interior,
and some of the members were exiled for a time to their homes in the
country.
This warning produced merely a momentary effect. As the functions of
the Imperial Administration and of the Zemstvo had never been clearly
defined, and as each was inclined to extend the sphere of its activity,
friction became frequent. The Zemstvo had the right, for example, to
co-operate in the development of education, but as soon as it organised
primary schools and seminaries it came into contact with the Ministry of
Public Instruction. In other departments similar conflicts occurred,
and the tchinovniks came to suspect that the Zemstvo had the ambition to
play the part of a parliamentary Opposition. This suspicion found formal
expression in at least one secret official document, in which the writer
declares that "the Opposition has built itself firmly a nest in the
Zemstvo." Now, if we mean to be just to both parties in this little
family quarrel, we must admit that the Zemstvo, as I shall explain in
a future chapter, had ambitions of that kind, and it would have been
better perhaps for the country at the present moment if it had been able
to realise them. But this is a West-European idea. In Russia there is,
and can be, no such thing as "His Majesty's Opposition." To the Russian
official mind the three words seem to contain a logical contradiction.
Opposition to officials, even within the limits of the law, is
equivalent to opposition to the Autocratic Power, of which they are the
incarnate emanations; and opposition to what they consider the interests
of autocracy comes within measurable distance of high treason. It was
considered necessary, therefore, to curb and suppress the ambitious
tendencies of the wayward child, and accordingly it was placed more and
more under the tutelage of the provincial Governors. To show how
the change was effected, let me give an illustration. In the older
arrangements the Governor could suspend the action of the Zemstvo only
on the ground of its being illegal or ultra vires, and when there was
an irreconcilable difference of opinion between the two parties the
question was decided judicially by the Senate; under the more recent
arrangements his Excellency can interpose his veto whenever he considers
that a decision, though it may be perfectly legal, is not conducive to
the public good, and differences of opinion are referred, not to the
Senate, but to the Minister of the Interior, who is always naturally
disposed to support the views of his subordinate.
In order to put an end to all this insubordination, Count Tolstoy,
the reactionary Minister of the Interior, prepared a scheme of
reorganisation in accordance with his anti-liberal views, but he died
before he could carry it out, and a much milder reorganisation was
adopted in the law of 12th (24th) June, 1890. The principal changes
introduced by that law were that the number of delegates in the
Assemblies was reduced by about a fourth, and the relative strength of
the different social classes was altered. Under the old law the Noblesse
had about 42 per cent., and the peasantry about 38 per cent, of the
seats; by the new electoral arrangements the former have 57 per cent,
and the latter about 30. It does not necessarily follow, however,
that the Assemblies are more conservative or more subservient on that
account. Liberalism and insubordination are much more likely to be found
among the nobles than among the peasants.
In addition to all this, as there was an apprehension in the higher
official spheres of St. Petersburg that the opposition spirit of the
Zemstvo might find public expression in a printed form, the provincial
Governors received extensive rights of preventive censure with regard
to the publication of the minutes of Zemstvo Assemblies and similar
documents.
What the bureaucracy, in its zeal to defend the integrity of the
Autocratic Power, feared most of all was combination for a common
purpose on the part of the Zemstvos of different provinces. It vetoed,
therefore, all such combinations, even for statistical purposes; and
when it discovered, a few years ago, that leading members of the Zemstvo
from all parts of the country were holding private meetings in Moscow
for the ostensible purpose of discussing economic questions, it ordered
them to return to their homes.
Even within its proper sphere, as defined by law, the Zemstvo has not
accomplished what was expected of it. The country has not been covered
with a network of macadamised roads, and the bridges are by no means as
safe as could be desired. Village schools and infirmaries are still far
below the requirements of the population. Little or nothing has been
done for the development of trade or manufactures; and the villages
remain very much what they were under the old Administration. Meanwhile
the local rates have been rising with alarming rapidity; and many
people draw from all this the conclusion that the Zemstvo is a worthless
institution which has increased the taxation without conferring any
corresponding benefit on the country.
If we take as our criterion in judging the institution the exaggerated
expectations at first entertained, we may feel inclined to agree with
this conclusion, but this is merely tantamount to saying that the
Zemstvo has performed no miracles. Russia is much poorer and much less
densely populated than the more advanced nations which she takes as her
model. To suppose that she could at once create for herself by means of
an administrative reform all the conveniences which those more advanced
nations enjoy, was as absurd as it would be to imagine that a poor man
can at once construct a magnificent palace because he has received from
a wealthy neighbour the necessary architectural plans. Not only years
but generations must pass before Russia can assume the appearance of
Germany, France, or England. The metamorphosis may be accelerated or
retarded by good government, but it could not be effected at once, even
if the combined wisdom of all the philosophers and statesmen in Europe
were employed in legislating for the purpose.
The Zemstvo has, however, done much more than the majority of its
critics admit. It fulfils tolerably well, without scandalous peculation
and jobbery, its commonplace, every-day duties, and it has created a
new and more equitable system of rating, by which landed proprietors and
house-owners are made to bear their share of the public burdens. It has
done a very great deal to provide medical aid and primary education for
the common people, and it has improved wonderfully the condition of the
hospitals, lunatic asylums, and other benevolent institutions committed
to its charge. In its efforts to aid the peasantry it has helped to
improve the native breeds of horses and cattle, and it has created a
system of obligatory fire-insurance, together with means for preventing
and extinguishing fires in the villages--a most important matter in
a country where the peasants live in wooden houses and big fires are
fearfully frequent. After neglecting for a good many years the essential
question as to how the peasants' means of subsistence can be increased,
it has latterly, as I have mentioned in a foregoing chapter, helped them
to obtain improved agricultural implements and better seed, encouraged
the formation of small credit associations and savings banks, and
appointed agricultural inspectors to teach them how they may introduce
modest improvements within their limited means.* At the same time, in
many districts it has endeavoured to assist the home industries which
are threatened with annihilation by the big factories, and whenever
measures have been proposed for the benefit of the rural population,
such as the lowering of the land-redemption payments and the creation of
the Peasant Land Bank, it has invariably given them its cordial support.
* The amount expended for these objects in 1897, the latest year
for which I have statistical data, was about a million and a half
of roubles, or, roughly speaking, 150,000 pounds, distributed under
the following heads:--1. Agricultural tuition
41,100 pounds.
2. Experimental stations, museums, etc 19,800
3. Scientific agriculturists 17,400
4. Agricultural industries 26,700
5. Improving breeds of horses and cattle 45,300
-------
150,300 pounds.
If you ask a zealous member of the Zemstvo why it has not done more
he will probably tell you that it is because its activity has been
constantly restricted and counteracted by the Government. The Assemblies
were obliged to accept as presidents the Marshals of Noblesse, many of
whom were men of antiquated ideas and retrograde principles. At every
turn the more enlightened, more active members found themselves opposed,
thwarted, and finally checkmated by the Imperial officials. When a
laudable attempt was made to tax trade and industry more equitably the
scheme was vetoed, and consequently the mercantile class, sure of being
always taxed at a ridiculously low maximum, have lost all interest in
the proceedings. Even with regard to the rating of landed and house
property a low limit is imposed by the Government, because it is afraid
that if the rates were raised much it would not be able to collect the
heavy Imperial taxation. The uncontrolled publicity which was at first
enjoyed by the Assemblies was afterwards curtailed by the bureaucracy.
Under such restrictions all free, vigorous action became impossible, and
the institutions failed to effect what was reasonably anticipated.
All this is true in a certain sense, but it is not the whole truth. If
we examine some of the definite charges brought against the institution
we shall understand better its real character.
The most common complaint made against it is that it has enormously
increased the rates. On that point there is no possibility of dispute.
At first its expenditure in the thirty-four provinces in which it
existed was under six millions of roubles; in two years (1868) it
had jumped up to fifteen millions; in 1875 it was nearly twenty-eight
millions, in 1885 over forty-three millions, and at the end of the
century it had attained the respectable figure of 95,800,000 roubles.
As each province had the right of taxing itself, the increase varied
greatly in different provinces. In Smolensk, for example, it was only
about thirty per cent., whilst in Samara it was 436, and in Viatka,
where the peasant element predominates, no less than 1,262 per cent.!
In order to meet this increase, the rates on land rose from under ten
millions in 1868 to over forty-seven millions in 1900. No wonder that
the landowners who find it difficult to work their estates at a profit
should complain!
Though this increase is disagreeable to the rate-payers, it does not
follow that it is excessive. In all countries rates and local taxation
are on the increase, and it is in the backward countries that they
increase most rapidly. In France, for example, the average yearly
increase has been 2.7 per cent., while in Austria it has been 5.59. In
Russia it ought to have been more than in Austria, whereas it has been,
in the provinces with Zemstvo institutions, only about 4 per cent. In
comparison with the Imperial taxation the local does not seem excessive
when compared with other countries. In England and Prussia, for
instance, the State taxation as compared with the local is as a hundred
to fifty-four and fifty-one, whilst in Russia it is as a hundred
to sixteen.* A reduction in the taxation as a whole would certainly
contribute to the material welfare of the rural population, but it is
desirable that it should be made in the Imperial taxes rather than
in the rates, because the latter may be regarded as something akin to
productive investments, whilst the proceeds of the former are expended
largely on objects which have little or nothing to do with the wants
of the common people. In speaking thus I am assuming that the local
expenditure is made judiciously, and this is a matter on which, I am
bound to confess, there is by no means unanimity of opinion.
* These figures are taken from the best available
authorities, chiefly Schwanebach and Scalon, but I am not
prepared to guarantee their accuracy.
Hostile critics can point to facts which are, to say the least, strange
and anomalous. Out of the total of its revenue the Zemstvo spends about
twenty-eight per cent. under the heading of public health and benevolent
institutions; and about fifteen per cent. for popular education, whilst
it devotes only about six per cent. to roads and bridges, and until
lately it neglected, as I have said above, the means for improving
agriculture and directly increasing the income of the peasantry.
Before passing sentence with regard to these charges we must remember
the circumstances in which the Zemstvo was founded and has grown up.
In the early times its members were well-meaning men who had had very
little experience in administration or in practical life of any sort
except the old routine in which they had previously vegetated. Most of
them had lived enough in the country to know how much the peasants were
in need of medical assistance of the most elementary kind, and to this
matter they at once turned their attention. They tried to organise a
system of doctors, hospital assistants, and dispensaries by which the
peasant would not have to go more than fifteen or twenty miles to get a
wound dressed or to have a consultation or to obtain a simple remedy
for ordinary ailments. They felt the necessity, too, of thoroughly
reorganising the hospitals and the lunatic asylums, which were in a very
unsatisfactory condition. Plainly enough, there was here good work to
be done. Then there were the higher aims. In the absence of practical
experience there were enthusiasms and theories. Amongst these was the
enthusiasm for education, and the theory that the want of it was the
chief reason why Russia had remained so far behind the nations of
Western Europe. Give us education, it was said, and all other good
things will be added thereto. Liberate the Russian people from the bonds
of ignorance as you have liberated it from the bonds of serfage, and its
wonderful natural capacities will then be able to create everything that
is required for its material, intellectual, and moral welfare.
If there was any one among the leaders who took a more sober, prosaic
view of things he was denounced as an ignoramus and a reactionary.
Willingly or unwillingly, everybody had to swim with the current.
Roads and bridges were not entirely neglected, but the efforts in
that direction were confined to the absolutely indispensable. For
such prosaic concerns there was no enthusiasm, and it was universally
recognised that in Russia the construction of good roads, as the term
is understood in Western Europe, was far beyond the resources of any
Administration. Of the necessity for such roads few were conscious.
All that was required was to make it possible to get from one place to
another in ordinary weather and ordinary circumstances. If a stream was
too deep to be forded, a bridge had to be built or a ferry had to be
established; and if the approach to a bridge was so marshy or muddy that
vehicles often sank quite up to the axles and had to be dragged out by
ropes, with the assistance of the neighbouring villagers, repairs had
to be made. Beyond this the efforts of the Zemstvo rarely went. Its
road-building ambition remained within very modest bounds.
As for the impoverishment of the peasantry and the necessity of
improving their system of agriculture, that question had hardly appeared
above the horizon. It might have to be dealt with in the future, but
there was no need for hurry. Once the rural population were educated,
the question would solve itself. It was not till about the year 1885
that it was recognised to be more urgent than had been supposed,
and some Zemstvos perceived that the people might starve before its
preparatory education was completed. Repeated famines pushed the lesson
home, and the landed proprietors found their revenues diminished by the
fall in the price of grain on the European markets. Thus was raised the
cry: "Agriculture in Russia is on the decline! The country has entered
on an acute economic crisis! If energetic measures be not taken promptly
the people will soon find themselves confronted by starvation!"
To this cry of alarm the Zemstvo was neither deaf nor indifferent.
Recognising that the danger could be averted only by inducing the
peasantry to adopt a more intensive system of agriculture, it directed
more and more of its attention to agricultural improvements, and tried
to get them adopted.* It did, in short, all it could, according to its
lights and within the limits of its moderate resources. Its available
resources were small, unfortunately, for it was forbidden by the
Government to increase the rates, and it could not well dismiss doctors
and close dispensaries and schools when the people were clamouring for
more. So at least the defenders of the Zemstvo maintain, and they go
so far as to contend that it did well not to grapple with the
impoverishment of the peasantry at an earlier period, when the real
conditions of the problem and the means of solving it were only very
imperfectly known: if it had begun at that time it would have made great
blunders and spent much money to little purpose.
* Vide supra, p. 489.
However this may be, it would certainly be unfair to condemn the Zemstvo
for not being greatly in advance of public opinion. If it endeavours
strenuously to supply all clearly recognised wants, that is all that can
reasonably be expected of it. What it may be more justly reproached with
is, in my opinion, that it is, to a certain extent, imbued with that
unpractical, pedantic spirit which is commonly supposed to reside
exclusively in the Imperial Administration. But here again it simply
reflects public opinion and certain intellectual peculiarities of the
educated classes. When a Russian begins to write on a simple everyday
subject, he likes to connect it with general principles, philosophy,
or history, and begins, perhaps, by expounding his views on the
intellectual and social developments of humanity in general and of
Russia in particular. If he has sufficient space at his disposal he
may even tell you something about the early period of Russian history
previous to the Mongol invasion before he gets to the simple matter in
hand. In a previous chapter I have described the process of "shedding
on a subject the light of science" in Imperial legislation.* In Zemstvo
activity we often meet with pedantry of a similar kind.
* Vide supra, p. 343.
If this pedantry were confined to the writing of Reports it might not do
much harm. Unfortunately, it often appears in the sphere of action.
To illustrate this I take a recent instance from the province of
Nizhni-Novgorod. The Zemstvo of that province received from the Central
Government in 1895 a certain amount of capital for road-improvement,
with instructions from the Ministry of Interior that it should classify
the roads according to their relative importance and improve them
accordingly. Any intelligent person well acquainted with the region
might have made, in the course of a week or two, the required
classification accurately enough for all practical purposes. Instead of
adopting this simple procedure, what does the Zemstvo do? It chooses one
of the eleven districts of which the province is composed and instructs
its statistical department to describe all the villages with a view of
determining the amount of traffic which each will probably contribute to
the general movement, and then it verifies its a priori conclusions by
means of a detachment of specially selected "registrars," posted at all
the crossways during six days of each month. These registrars doubtless
inscribed every peasant cart as it passed and made a rough estimate of
the weight of its load. When this complicated and expensive procedure
was completed for one district it was applied to another; but at the end
of three years, before all the villages of this second district had
been described and the traffic estimated, the energy of the statistical
department seems to have flagged, and, like a young author impatient to
see himself in print, it published a volume at the public expense which
no one will ever read.
The cost entailed by this procedure is not known, but we may form some
idea of the amount of time required for the whole operation. It is a
simple rule-of-three sum. If it took three years for the preparatory
investigation of a district and a half, how many years will be required
for eleven districts? More than twenty years! During that period it
would seem that the roads are to remain as they are, and when the moment
comes for improving them it will be found that, unless the province is
condemned to economic stagnation, the "valuable statistical material"
collected at such an expenditure of time and money is in great part
antiquated and useless. The statistical department will be compelled,
therefore, like another unfortunate Sisyphus, to begin the work anew,
and it is difficult to see how the Zemstvo, unless it becomes a little
more practical, is ever to get out of the vicious circle.
In this case the evil result of pedantry was simply unnecessary delay,
and in the meantime the capital was accumulating, unless the interest
was entirely swallowed up by the statistical researches; but there
are cases in which the consequences are more serious. Let me take an
illustration from the enlightened province of Moscow. It was observed
that certain villages were particularly unhealthy, and it was pointed
out by a local doctor that the inhabitants were in the habit of
using for domestic purposes the water of ponds which were in a filthy
condition. What was evidently wanted was good wells, and a practical man
would at once have taken measures to have them dug. Not so the District
Zemstvo. It at once transformed the simple fact into a "question"
requiring scientific investigation. A commission was appointed to
study the problem, and after much deliberation it was decided to make
a geological survey in order to ascertain the depth of good water
throughout the district as a preparatory step towards preparing a
project which will some day be discussed in the District Assembly, and
perhaps in the Assembly of the province. Whilst all this is being
done according to the strict principles of bureaucratic procedure, the
unfortunate peasants for whose benefit the investigation was undertaken
continue to drink the muddy water of the dirty ponds.
Incidents of that kind, which I might multiply almost to any extent,
remind one of the proverbial formalism of the Chinese; but between
Chinese and Russian pedantry there is an essential difference. In the
Middle Kingdom the sacrifice of practical considerations proceeds from
an exaggerated veneration of the wisdom of ancestors; in the Empire of
the Tsars it is due to an exaggerated adoration of the goddess Nauka
(Science) and a habit of appealing to abstract principles and scientific
methods when only a little plain common-sense is required.
On one occasion, I remember, in a District Assembly of the province
of Riazan, when the subject of primary schools was being discussed, an
influential member started up, and proposed that an obligatory system
of education should at once be introduced throughout the whole district.
Strange to say, the motion was very nearly carried, though all the
members present knew--or at least might have known if they had taken the
trouble to inquire--that the actual number of schools would have to be
multiplied twenty-fold, and all were agreed that the local rates
must not be increased. To preserve his reputation for liberalism, the
honourable member further proposed that, though the system should be
obligatory, no fines, punishments, or other means of compulsion should
be employed. How a system could be obligatory without using some means
of compulsion, he did not condescend to explain. To get out of the
difficulty one of his supporters suggested that the peasants who did
not send their children to school should be excluded from serving as
office-bearers in the Communes; but this proposition merely created
a laugh, for many deputies knew that the peasants would regard this
supposed punishment as a valuable privilege. And whilst this discussion
about the necessity of introducing an ideal system of obligatory
education was being carried on, the street before the windows of the
room was covered with a stratum of mud nearly two feet in depth! The
other streets were in a similar condition; and a large number of the
members always arrived late, because it was almost impossible to come on
foot, and there was only one public conveyance in the town. Many
members had, fortunately, their private conveyances, but even in these
locomotion was by no means easy. One day, in the principal thoroughfare,
a member had his tarantass overturned, and he himself was thrown into
the mud!
It is hardly fair to compare the Zemstvo with the older institutions
of a similar kind in Western Europe, and especially with our own local
self-government. Our institutions have all grown out of real, practical
wants keenly felt by a large section of the population. Cautious and
conservative in all that concerns the public welfare, we regard change
as a necessary evil, and put off the evil day as long as possible, even
when convinced that it must inevitably come. Thus our administrative
wants are always in advance of our means of satisfying them, and we
use vigorously those means as soon as they are supplied. Our method of
supplying the means, too, is peculiar. Instead of making a tabula rasa,
and beginning from the foundations, we utilise to the utmost what we
happen to possess, and add merely what is absolutely indispensable.
Metaphorically speaking, we repair and extend our political edifice
according to the changing necessities of our mode of life, without
paying much attention to abstract principles or the contingencies of the
distant future. The building may be an aesthetic monstrosity, belonging
to no recognised style of architecture, and built in defiance of the
principles laid down by philosophical art critics, but it is well
adapted to our requirements, and every hole and corner of it is sure to
be utilised.
Very different has been the political history of Russia during the last
two centuries. It may be briefly described as a series of revolutions
effected peaceably by the Autocratic Power. Each young energetic
sovereign has attempted to inaugurate a new epoch by thoroughly
remodelling the Administration according to the most approved foreign
political philosophy of the time. Institutions have not been allowed
to grow spontaneously out of popular wants, but have been invented by
bureaucratic theorists to satisfy wants of which the people were still
unconscious. The administrative machine has therefore derived little or
no motive force from the people, and has always been kept in motion by
the unaided energy of the Central Government. Under these circumstances
it is not surprising that the repeated attempts of the Government to
lighten the burdens of centralised administration by creating organs of
local self-government should not have been very successful.
The Zemstvo, it is true, offered better chances of success than any of
its predecessors. A large portion of the nobles had become alive to the
necessity of improving the administration, and the popular interest in
public affairs was much greater than at any former period. Hence there
was at first a period of enthusiasm, during which great preparations
were made for future activity, and not a little was actually effected.
The institution had all the charm of novelty, and the members felt that
the eyes of the public were upon them. For a time all went well, and
the Zemstvo was so well pleased with its own activity that the satirical
journals compared it to Narcissus admiring his image reflected in the
pool. But when the charm of novelty had passed and the public turned its
attention to other matters, the spasmodic energy evaporated, and many of
the most active members looked about for more lucrative employment.
Such employment was easily found, for at that time there was an unusual
demand for able, energetic, educated men. Several branches of the civil
service were being reorganised, and railways, banks, and joint-stock
companies were being rapidly multiplied. With these the Zemstvo had
great difficulty in competing. It could not, like the Imperial service,
offer pensions, decorations, and prospects of promotion, nor could it
pay such large salaries as the commercial and industrial enterprises.
In consequence of all this, the quality of the executive bureaux
deteriorated at the same time as the public interest in the institution
diminished.
To be just to the Zemstvo, I must add that, with all its defects and
errors, it is infinitely better than the institutions which it replaced.
If we compare it with previous attempts to create local self-government,
we must admit that the Russians have made great progress in their
political education. What its future may be I do not venture to predict.
From its infancy it has had, as we have seen, the ambition to play a
great political part, and at the beginning of the recent stirring times
in St. Petersburg its leading representatives in conclave assembled took
upon themselves to express what they considered the national demand for
liberal representative institutions. The desire, which had previously
from time to time been expressed timidly and vaguely in loyal addresses
to the Tsar, that a central Zemstvo Assembly, bearing the ancient title
of Zemski Sobor, should be convoked in the capital and endowed with
political functions, was now put forward by the representatives in plain
unvarnished form. Whether this desire is destined to be realised time
will show.