Carroll Quigley - Tragedy and Hope - A History of the World in Our Time

The fourth Duma (1912-1916) was similar to the third, elected by complicated procedures and on a restricted suffrage. The policy of drift continued, and was more obvious since no energetic figure like Stolypin was to be found. On the contrary, the autocracy sank deeper into a morass of superstition and corruption. The influence of the czarina became more pervasive, and through her was extended the power of a number of religious mystics and charlatans, especially Rasputin. The imperial couple had ardently desired a son from their marriage in 1894. After the births of four daughters, their wish was fulfilled in 1904. Unfortunately, the new czarevich, Alexis, had inherited from his mother an incurable disease, hemophilia. Since his blood would not clot, the slightest cut endangered his life. This weakness merely exaggerated the czarina’s fanatical devotion to her son and her determination to see him become czar with the powers of that office undiminished by any constitutional or parliamentary innovations. After 1907 she fell under the influence of a strange wanderer, Rasputin, a man whose personal habits and appearance were both vicious and filthy but who had the power, she believed, to stop the czarevich’s bleeding. The czarina fell completely under Rasputin’s control and, since the czar was completely under her control, Rasputin became the ruler of Russia, intermittently at first, but then completely. This situation lasted until he was murdered in December 1916. Rasputin used his power to satisfy his personal vices, to accumulate wealth by corruption, and to interfere in every branch of the government, always in a destructive and unprogressive sense. As Sir Bernard Pares put it, speaking of the czarina, “Her letters to Nicholas day by day contain the instructions which Rasputin gave on every detail of administration of the Empire—the Church, the Ministers, finance, railways, food supply, appointments, military operations, and above all the Duma, and a simple comparison of the dates with the events which followed shows that in almost every case they were carried out. In all her recommendations for ministerial posts, most of which are adopted, one of the primary considerations is always the attitude of the given candidate to Rasputin.”

As the autocracy became increasingly corrupt and irresponsible in this way, the slow growth toward a constitutional system which might have developed from the zemstvo system of local government and the able membership of the first Duma was destroyed. The resumption of economic expansion after 1909 could not counterbalance the pernicious influence of the political paralysis. This situation was made even more hopeless by the growing importance of foreign affairs after 1908 and the failure of intellectual life to grow in any constructive fashion. The first of these complications will be discussed later; the second deserves a few words here.

The general trend of intellectual development in Russia in the years before 1914 could hardly be regarded as hopeful. To be sure, there were considerable advances in some fields such as literacy, natural science, mathematics, and economic thought, but these contributed little to any growth of moderation or to Russia’s greatest intellectual need, a more integrated outlook on life. The influence of the old Orthodox religious attitude continued even in those who most emphatically rejected it. The basic attitude of the Western tradition had grown toward diversity and toleration, based on the belief that every aspect of life and of human experience and every individual has some place in the complex structure of reality if that place can only be found and that, accordingly, unity of the whole of life can be reached by way of diversity rather than by any compulsory uniformity. This idea was entirely foreign to the Russian mind. Any Russian thinker, and hordes of other Russians with no capacity for thought, were driven by an insatiable thirst to find the “key” to life and to truth. Once this “key” has been found, all other aspects of human experience must be rejected as evil, and all men must be compelled to accept that key as the whole of life in a dreadful unity of uniformity. To make matters worse, many Russian thinkers sought to analyze the complexities of human experience by polarizing these into antitheses of mutually exclusive dualisms: Westerners versus Slavophiles, individualism versus community, freedom versus fate, revolutionary versus reactionary, nature versus conventions, autocracy versus anarchy, and such. There was no logical correlation between these, so that individual thinkers frequently embraced either side of any antithesis, forming an incredible mixture of emotionally held faiths. Moreover, individual thinkers frequently shifted from one side to another, or even oscillated back and forth between the extremes of these dualisms. In the most typical Russian minds both extremes were held simultaneously, regardless of logical compatibility, in some kind of higher mystic unity beyond rational analysis. Thus, Russian thought provides us with striking examples of God-intoxicated atheists, revolutionary reactionaries, violent nonresisters, belligerent pacifists, compulsory liberators, and individualistic totalitarians.

The basic characteristic of Russian thought is its extremism. This took two forms: (i) any portion of human experience to which allegiance was given became the whole truth, demanding total allegiance, all else being evil deception; and (2) every living person was expected to accept this same portion or be damned as a minion of antichrist. Those who embraced the state were expected to embrace it as an autocracy in which the individual had no rights, else their allegiance was not pure; those who denied the state were expected to reject it utterly by adopting anarchism. Those who became materialists had to become complete nihilists without place for any convention, ceremony, or sentiment. Those who questioned some minor aspect of the religious system were expected to become militant atheists, and if they did not take this step themselves, were driven to it by the clergy. Those who were considered to be spiritual or said they were spiritual were forgiven every kind of corruption and lechery (like Rasputin) because such material aspects were irrelevant. Those who sympathized with the oppressed were expected to bury themselves in the masses, living like them, eating like them, dressing like them, and renouncing all culture and thought (if they believed the masses lacked these things).

The extremism of Russian thinkers can be seen in their attitudes toward such basic aspects of human experience as property, reason, the state, art, sex, or power. Always there was a fanatical tendency to eliminate as sinful and evil anything except the one aspect which the thinker considered to be the key to the cosmos. Alexei Khomyakov (1804-1860), a Slavophile, wanted to reject reason completely, regarding it as “the mortal sin of the West,” while Fedor Dostoevski (1821-1881) went so far in this direction that he wished to destroy all logic and all arithmetic, seeking, he said, “to free humanity from the tyranny of two plus two equals four.” Many Russian thinkers, long before the Soviets, regarded all property as sinful. Others felt the same way about sex. Leo Tolstoi, the great novelist and essayist (1828-1910), considered all property and all sex to be evil. Western thought, which has usually tried to find a place in the cosmos for everything and has felt that anything is acceptable in its proper place, recoils from such fanaticism. The West, for example, has rarely felt it necessary to justify the existence of art, but many thinkers in Russia (like Plato long ago) have rejected all art as evil. Tolstoi, among others, had moments (as in the essay What Is Art? of 1897 or On Shakespeare and the Drama of 1903) when he denounced most art and literature, including his own novels, as vain, irrelevant, and satanic. Similarly the West, while it has sometimes looked askance at sex and more frequently has overemphasized it, has generally felt that sex had a proper function in its proper place. In Russia, however, many thinkers, including once again Tolstoi (The Kreutzer Sonata of 1889), have insisted that sex was evil in all places and under all circumstances, and most sinful in marriage. The disruptive effects of such ideas upon social or family life can be seen in the later years of Tolstoi’s personal life, culminating in his last final hatred of his long-suffering wife whom he came to regard as the instrument of his fall from grace. But while Tolstoi praised marriage without sex, other Russians, with even greater vehemence, praised sex without marriage, regarding this social institution as an unnecessary impediment in the path of pure human impulse.