R. Wilcox

January 2002

How did the Tsar survive the 1905 Revolution?

“…it is impossible to maintain this form of government except by violence.”

-Leo Tolstoy

When soldiers opened fire on demonstrators outside the Winter Palace on January 22, 1905, it was not likely in hopes of setting off a chain of events that would reach such fury as to later be collectively lumped together as a “revolution”. Yet when the sun went down on estimated hundreds of casualties that evening, Russia had changed. The protestors’ purpose, to beg the Tsar to exercise his authority on behalf of their miserable condition, splattered onto the courtyard ground beneath the onslaught of ammunition—yet it was to be enough to moisten the gates just enough to allow the events that followed to slip through: events that, if not for disorganization of the opposition (though really it was more a lack of coordination), timely concession on the part of the government, and martial forces still loyal enough to beat dissension back, might well have pulled the writhing mass of reaction and confusion down onto its own head.

That the “revolution” did not, in fact, ever culminate in any real revolutionary form is of particular interest when hindsight has given us the benefit of knowing what was yet to come. Why, then, when certain aspects of the situations in 1905 and February of 1917 were so similar, did one fizzle and another explode? Both years found the country still reeling from a war (one bringing humiliation and the other incomprehension and outrage); both found hostility from the streets directed against perceived governmental incompetence. Yet what had changed from 1905 to 1917 so as to culminate not in concession but abdication, and later full-blown revolution and execution?

One thing that, interestingly enough, changed very little in February of 1917 is the presence—or, more specifically, lack of presence—of actual revolutionary leaders. It was not the revolutionaries who were driving (or even riding out) the events. The concept of “the opposition”, therefore, was not a list of names or groups. So-called “Bloody Sunday”, the “massacre” at the Winter Palace, was the trigger to what Michael Lynch calls “a nationwide outbreak of disorder”. Peasant discontent was heightened by fear of what they believed was the government’s reclamation of property where mortgages had not yet been paid back. The assertion of national minorities amidst the turbulence found perhaps highest form in Georgia’s declaration of independence. The “Union of Unions”, an organization of liberal groups, was formed in May with the intent of forming some sort of alliance to include peasants and factory workers (“you must hasten the removal of the gang of robbers that is now in power,” the declaration went, “and put in its place a constituent assembly”).

It got worse. Summer brought mutinies from both the navy and army. The humiliating outcome of the war with Japan did little to soothe the spirits of a country already increasingly suspicious of their leaders’ competency—and frightened those leaders with the thought of returning soldiers joining what was now seemingly turning into the “revolution”. Autumn saw the transformation of industrial discontent give way to an all-out strike. It was then that the soviets began to form—councils to demand improvements for the workers—but their political potential hardly went unrecognised (Lev Trotsky both organized the general strike in and chaired St Petersburg soviet). Railroad strikes finally brought the nation to a halt. By October, Nicholas II found himself facing “the most united opposition in Romanov history” (Lynch).

Yet the opposition was not concentrated either geographically or chronologically. Different groups did not organize their protests with one another—peasant, worker, liberal, all these let their discontent be known, but not unitedly. Moreover, it was not precisely the political regime being attacked in and of itself, but rather its role in what were primarily economic issues (such as the peasants and their fear of losing their land). This, however, did change the longer trouble went on and the government held out (such as the soviet in St Petersburg becoming the center of strike headquarters). If the government wanted to retain its increasingly precarious perch, it would have to act.

Following classic “divide-and-conquer” strategy, the government began to make concessions (not reforms)—attempting to quiet the disquiet while carefully pulling the components of the building opposition apart from one another. The October Manifesto, a carefully crafted concession, allowed both personal freedoms (“personal inviolability…conscience, speech, assembly and union” [quoted in The Revolution of 1905, A. Ascher]) and the formation of an elected body (the Duma—wherein certain groups who refused to participate alienated and thereby diffused themselves quite effectively). And the concessions seemed to work. The St Petersburg soviet ended the strike 19 October. People went back to work. However, violence broke out between different groups (particularly peasants and landlords), frustrating Nicholas that the Manifesto had not brought an end to the fighting. The end for the revolution, however, was already upon him. The St Petersburg soviet called for a strike in November—which went ignored. The government took the opportunity to arrest the members.

This leads us, then, to what actually enables division and conquering when political means fail. In December, the same month of the St Petersburg soviet arrests, a Bolshevik insurrection in Moscow left more than a thousand dead after the army rather effectively snuffed it out (the appointment of Peter Durnovo as Minister of the Interior being behind the government’s new offensive against the revolutionary tide), and military personnel were dispatched to troubled areas while workers who went on strike were shot. Having used it but sparingly (relatively speaking), pure force was enough to coax the rest of the majority into submission.

What seems to be clear is that the ability of the Tsar and his government to ride out the tide of 1905 was, in essence, their pulling themselves together and effectively dealing with the situation. Concessions were made where they were needed, none of which seriously damaged or altered the Tsar’s power, and force stepped in where political pacification did not appease. The government acted effectively in the face of combining external issues, dealt with them to the extent of sending most of the general population back to work and away from governmental necks (despite a few assassinations), and, while perhaps not emerging unscathed, emerged nonetheless. The revolution, if that’s what it truly was, was a revolt driven by discontent with living—not discontent directed squarely at the government in and of itself. Or discontent fuelled by the horrors of a war yet to come.

What is interesting, then, is to see how reaction varied between 1905 and February of 1917. In January 1917 a strike was called by the Worker’s Group in Petrograd in honor of January 1905 (“Bloody Sunday”), with a response of 140,000 workers. Demonstrations for radical change in the government were planned for the Duma’s reconvening in February. Living conditions were deteriorating as trouble with transportation slowly siphoned off food and fuel supplies to cities such as Petrograd and Moscow, and a bitterly cold winter only exacerbated the misery (though the workers were still working and no one was yet starving). Still, anticipatory anxiety was high. World War I was dragging on through yet another winter in the trenches. The railway systems were not working. Prices had doubled by the end of 1916. While there was surplus grain, distribution problems disabled it from getting to the towns, and when there was finally nothing to buy (either from lack of product or augment of expense) the peasants began to hoard.

While external factors clearly were in a dangerous decline, the government was breaking down as well. Nicholas seemed incapable of knowing what to do, while Alexandra influenced him through 36 ministers in 13 major ministries—in February alone. The government seemed set to fall from the inside out. There was pressure for Nicholas to allow the Duma to choose a government (“…the establishing of a responsible ministry,” wrote the Grand Duke George, “…is considered to be the only one which could avoid a general catastrophe” [quoted in Nicholas II, Dominic Lieven]). Yet still the Tsar did not act. Demonstrations in Petrograd (formerly St Petersburg) became disorder. The military temporally quelled the storm (on February 26), but when Nicholas disbanded the Duma (February 27), the soldiers mutinied. Ministers begged Nicholas to allow their resignation. He refused and determined to come to Petrograd himself and crush the revolt (one must keep in mind that it was only Petrograd that was in uproar at this point). His train was detoured. After meeting with both generals (who in the end would not support a monarchy now impossible to defend) and advisors (who suspected the monarchy would not be tolerated and that removing the Tsar would divert full revolution), Tsar Nicholas II agreed to abdicate.

While there are marked similarities in the situations of both 1905 and 1917, there are clear and crucial differences. The government was unable to successfully quell the crisis, be it through concession or force, in 1917 (the government’s falling apart while the country’s restraint of discontent was melting down around being inevitably disastrous). 1905 brought the end of a humiliating war; the beginning of 1917 found the country in the midst of a war both horrific in the trenches and strangling on the home front, and showed no signs of letting up. 1905 found both the government and the military prepared to fight to keep order; by 1917 the military was no longer will to defend the Tsar the elite were willing to sacrifice in hopes of avoiding total revolt. World War I was, undoubtedly, the largest and most influential factor at work, damaging not only morale but heightening the economic problems which served as a fine powder keg for political explosion. And yet, one wonders just what role, or to just what degree, a possible fear of what was to come—a fear of uprising, and revolution—lead to collapse and inability to cope when the situation was finally unleashed. While the Tsar survived the 1905 storm, both he and his government’s ability to react to increasingly problematic external factors combined to the point where he, far from riding it out, was thrown Jonah-like off the boat. However, far unlike Jonah, this time it would not stop the storm.

Bibliography

Darby, Graham. The Russian Revolution. Essex: Addison Wesley Longman Limited, 1998.

Lynch, Michael. Reaction & Revolutions: Russia 1881-1924 [second edition]. Hodder & Stoughton, 2000.