Leaders and Their Values

During the police investigation that followed the strike, interrogators persistently asked arrested workers to identify the members of the intelligentsia who had helped them. As Medvedev recalled, they "could not accept the idea that workers could have organized the strike by themselves."^[65] The perplexity of the police is understandable. The workers who organized the strike seem to have appeared out of nowhere. None had been visibly active in the Typographers' Assistance Fund.^[66] None was known as a correspondent to Naborshchik . Finally, despite the best efforts of the police to prove otherwise, none had evidently been involved in the socialist underground. Even in memoirs written in the 1920s, when ties with the socialist movement were usually emphasized, workers active in the strike mention no contacts before the strike with socialist intelligenty .^[67] To an important degree, this was a "spontaneously" created leadership. But spontaneous does not mean inexplicable or faceless.

Arrest records and memoirs allow us to identify almost all of the dozen or so printing workers who met together to discuss a collective strategy during the summer and early fall of 1903.^[68] With the exception of a single proofreader, who played only a minor role and soon left the leadership, the organizers were all compositors. Three worked at the medium-sized Lissner and Geshel' printing shop (51 workers) where the movement began: Mitrofan Biriukov, Nikita Potashev, and Dmitrii Komkov (who would be elected secretary of the union council). One, Aleksei Medvedev, who became the chairman of the union, was a

[65] Medvedev, "Pervaia zabastovka," p. 138. See also TsGAOR, f. 63, 1903, d. 667, vol. 1, p. 217; vol. 2, part 1, p. 229; vol. 1, p. 265 (Vestnik soiuza tipografskikh rabochikh 1 [1903]); Reshetov, "Stachka tret'ego goda," pp. 146–47.

[66] Whether any were rank-and-file members is more difficult to say. Membership records of the Typographers' fund from 1869 through 1899 show none of the known strike activists among the members. Sbornik svedenii VKT . Intercity mobility leaves open the possibility that some may have belonged to funds in other cities. Also, some may have joined after 1899, though neither police arrest records nor later workers' memoirs mention any as members.

[67] Even Nikita Potashev, the most politically minded and possibly most politically connected of the strike leaders, was sufficiently distant from the socialist intelligentsia to have remained outside of any political party by the time of his death from tuberculosis in 1917. Pechatnik 1917, no. 4 (September 8), p. 14.

[68] The following discussion of the backgrounds, occupations, ages, and family situations of these activists is drawn mainly from two kinds of sources. Records of arrests and interrogations are in TsGAOR, f. 63, 1903, d. 667, vol. 1, pp. 1–37, 219–22; vol. 2, part 1, pp. 228–378, and ibid., f. 58, 1904 g., op. 1, d. 357/122, vol. 3, pp. 1–243. Memoirs by Ivanov, Medvedev, Popov, and Reshetov are in TsGAOR, f. 6864, op. 1, d. 216, pp. 1–13, 55–63, and Moskovskie pechatniki , pp. 133–51.

senior compositor (metranpazh ) at the small press of the satirical journal Budil'nik (19 workers). The remainder worked in Moscow's largest printing plants—Sergei Reshetov, Sergei Khanskii, and Mikhail Popov from Iakovlev; Aleksei Borisov from Levenson; Sergei Ivanov from Chicherin; Vladimir Kairovich from Kushnerev; and Petr Balashev from Sytin—all enterprises employing at least 250 workers and in some cases many more.^[69]

Even among compositors, these activists were distinguished by their skill and experience. The workplaces from which they were drawn are themselves indicative. Larger enterprises generally preferred (and could afford) to employ workers with higher skill, and they paid more to attract them. Medvedev, though employed in a small shop, worked at a periodical press, where the quality of work and hence levels of skill were usually higher than average, and he was himself a skilled metranpazh earning a high salary of 50 rubles a month. Similarly, the Lissner and Geshel' shop, though employing only about 50 workers, was known for quality work, and Biriukov found conditions there to be "much better" than the average and found his fellow workers to be "of a higher moral quality."^[70]

The age of these activists is also revealing. Of the nine leaders whose birthdates are known, seven were 26 or older (the oldest was 32), and none was younger than 22. Significantly, the most important leaders of the movement in its early and later stages—Biriukov (31), Potashev (29), and Medvedev (29)—were among the oldest members of the group. Although they were hardly old, neither were they raw youths in an industry where the typical compositor began work at 12 to 14 years of age and few survived past 40. This relative maturity of the leadership was reflected in their higher level of skill and better wages. It also meant that many of these activists were not the unencumbered individuals who might be expected to take risks. Many were married and had children. And unlike workers with strong ties to the village, their families generally lived with them in the city. Biriukov was married and lived with his wife and three children. Medvedev was also married with three children. Another activist, 32-year-old Petr Balashev, had five children. Clearly, family responsibilities were not by themselves a deterrent to activism. On the contrary, as will be seen in the arguments

[69] In addition to these major activists were three individuals about whom I have found no further information: a proofreader named Nikolaev and a compositor named Blinov, both of whom soon left the leadership, and a shop delegate named Kasatkin, who worked at Levenson.

[70] TsGAOR, f. 63, 1903, d. 667, vol. 5, p. 434.

workers presented during the strike, the pressures of trying to support a family could be an inducement to demand higher wages and shorter hours.

As important as skill and experience may have been in generating leadership, more essential in distinguishing these activists were less measurable personal qualities. Dmitrii Komkov was said to look and dress like "a young lawyer." A photograph of Medvedev produces much the same impression. And Mikhail Popov maintained such a serious demeanor that he was nicknamed "the Roman Pope."^[71] These externals of dress and bearing reflected deeper efforts to become more cultivated and knowledgeable. Popov, for example, was repelled by "uncultured" peasant manners and decided to "seek in books the path to a better life."^[72] Medvedev read and probably subscribed to Naborshchik , for he occasionally read aloud from it at meetings.^[73] Biriukov was fond of poetry—police even found a notebook full of "tendentious verses" when they searched his apartment.^[74] Nikita Potashev was "well-read concerning the workers' question."^[75]

As these fragments of personal biography suggest, the leaders of the strike were in many ways typical of the "moral vanguard" among workers that I earlier described. The connection is especially evident in the discourse of the strike leaders, in which the values and even vocabulary of Naborshchik are pervasive. But the connection should not be made too tightly. Naborshchik drew upon broader cultural and intellectual resources, which the activists of 1903 reflected upon as well, whether or not they read Naborshchik . Moreover, these activists were pushing beyond the boundaries that men like Andrei Filippov were trying to hold, as was most evident, of course, in their decision to strike. But it was also present in the complex and even contradictory rhetoric of the strike leaders.

Mitrofan Biriukov was certainly the most cautious, opposing the idea of both a strike and a union; he even produced a leaflet arguing

[71] Reshetov, "Stachka tret'ego goda," p. 142 (on Komkov); the picture of Medvedev appears with his "Pervaia zabastovka," p. 138 (although the date of the photograph is not indicated, his youth suggests that it was relatively contemporary); TsGAOR, f. 6864, op. 1, d. 216, p. 63 (on Popov).

[72] TsGAOR, f. 6864, op. 1, d. 216, p. 52.

[73] Ibid., f. 63, 1903, d. 667, vol. 2, part 1, pp. 262–63.

[74] Ibid., vol. 1, p. 33; vol. 2, part 1, p. 434.

[75] Ibid., vol. 2, part 1, p. 235 (Biriukov's testimony). Forbidden after the strike from living in St. Petersburg or Moscow, Potashev surfaced after 1905 as the head of the Rostov printers' union and an active proponent of an All-Russian printers' union. TsGAOR, f. 102, OO, 1907, op. 8, d. 28, p. 295.

that "compositors are not like other workers, rushing into strikes without warning, making proclamations, damaging machinery, and engaging in fights."^[76] Although Biriukov was isolated in his principled opposition to a strike, other members of the leadership shared many of his concerns. When speaking at meetings about the strikes in the south, Vladimir Kairovich always carefully noted the harm caused by those who incited workers to violence and advised his listeners to "avoid this dangerous element."^[77] More generally, according to police reports, at meetings the union leaders "instilled the idea of the necessity of conducting oneself quietly, did not allow noise or whistling, [and] did not admit drunks."^[78] These leaders even proposed a declaration to all "worker-alcoholics" that they must "reform their lives" and that until they did so they would not be allowed to work in Moscow printing shops and would not be eligible for any grants from the strike fund.^[79]

Set in the context of organizing a strike, such declarations suggest the mixture of militance and morality that characterized the entire movement as conceived by these leaders. The motto chosen for the new union suggested precisely this ambiguous mix: "In unity—strength, in thrift—independence." It was also evident in the tactics the union was prepared to use in promoting the workers' economic interests, ranging from "formal requests" (khodataistva ) to a "general strike."

The relative militance of Medvedev's conception of the union, which was approved by all except Biriukov, deserves emphasis. The very name of the organization—not a "society" or "fund" but a "union" (soiuz ) —indicated a break with earlier and legal forms of association. And it was to be a union of "struggle." It was also significant that the charter referred to printers as "workers" (rabochie ), rather than the more traditional truzheniki, which had acquired implications exclusive of the less skilled and inclusive of managers and employers. The class identity of the union was made explicit in the decision that this would not be a narrow craft union but an organization uniting all printers.

Militance, however, was closely linked to morality in the design of the union. A member of the union council was expected to "take upon himself the moral obligation not to abandon his activities before the full accomplishment of the [union's] goals." Rank-and-file members were expected to accept "the moral obligation to act in unity with other

[76] TsGAOR, f. 63, 1903, d. 667, vol. 2, part 1, p. 229.

[77] Ibid., p. 255.

[78] Ibid., f. 102, OO, 1898, d. 4, ch. 2, lit. E, p. 7.

[79] Ibid., f. 63, 1903, d. 667, vol. 1, p. 18.

union members and with all of their comrades in the profession." Deputies were to be individuals "most dedicated to the cause."^[80] These conceptions of moral solidarity and responsibility would have been understood by the activists of the mutual aid funds and Naborshchik . But they were put to use to strengthen the workers' hand in a conflict against employers, not to nurture community among them.

The coming struggle was also thought of as both militant and moral. Sometime in August, the leaders produced a leaflet—which was read at meetings, reproduced by hand, and distributed—titled "A Letter to Comrade Compositors."^[81] The title of "comrade" introduced a socially combative and exclusive ideal not to be found in Naborshchik . But much of the rest of this leaflet sounded more familiar. The "Letter" began with the canonical reference to the "noble but hard labor" of a compositor and described the "impossible" "material and moral" conditions under which he toiled. The author dwelled especially on the physical destructiveness of this labor: "Look around—do you see many old compositors? Where are they? If you do see one, old and decrepit, ask him how old he is. Not more than forty." Was there adequate compensation for this sacrifice of "half of a compositor's life"? "No, and a thousand times no." The "noble labor" of a compositor was also seen as morally destructive. His wages were too low, it was argued, to allow him to care properly for his wife and children, forcing him to work overtime and nights and forcing his wife to seek independent employment. Under these conditions, "What sort of a family can he have? The children are without supervision and the apartment is disordered. . . . One may wish a cozy little corner, a full table, and happy children. But no, this is not for us." The only happiness that a compositor can expect is "at the first available moment to get drunk . . . in order to forget the poverty and need, to forget his back-breaking [katorzhennaia ] existence." Sobriety and improved family life would result from better material conditions, but these were only facets of the moral transformation that was said to be the real meaning of the struggle for higher wages and a shorter workday. The ultimate aim of the struggle, the

[80] The text of the charter, on which the above discussion is based, is in TsGAOR, f. 63, 1903, d. 667, vol. 1, pp. 20, 22.

[81] The text of the leaflet is in TsGAOR, f. 102, OO, 1898, d. 4, ch. 2, lit. E, pp. 63, 66. The Okhrana could not determine authorship, other than to conclude that the leaflet came from the same group of compositors who produced the union charter (ibid., p. 54). The police found copies during searches of several apartments on September 6, each copy reproduced in a different hand. (Other leaflets were found during these searches, though I have not been able to locate copies, with the exception of a long hectographed leaflet describing the history of the union, which I discuss below.)

"Letter" made clear, was winning the worker's right "to live as a human being" (zhit' po-chelovecheski ). A family, a "cozy corner," a full table, were all "our rights as workers and as human beings."

The leaflet concluded by assuring readers that these demands were not "unfair to owners" and also that "our cause is just and God will help us." Such a representation of demands for higher wages and a shorter workday as just, moral, and even sanctified, may have been a calculated effort to persuade cautious and perhaps fearful workers that this struggle was legitimate. More likely, given what is known about the probable authors, these were telling expressions of the moral militance that characterized their outlook. These leaders did not wish to be "unfair" to owners, but neither did they defer to their authority. They may have had faith in God, but they heard from on high not a counsel of patience or forgiveness but a promise of support in their "just cause." Morality tempered their militant purpose; the determination to struggle steeled their morality.

On September 9, another leaflet produced in the name of the union appeared, though it is not clear when or by whom it was written.^[82] The lengthy (six-page) leaflet was ostensibly a history of the meetings and difficulties that had led to the union's organization. But it was much more an appeal for a radical social awakening in which the influence of social-democratic thinking was plain. The author sought to convince workers of the necessity of illegal struggle. In great detail, the author described the unsuccessful efforts during the spring and summer to "improve the conditions of their lives by legal means." The "complete bankruptcy" of these efforts gave workers little real choice: either "accept that one has no rights" and return to "the humiliation and the curses, the fines, the poisoning by lead on working days and by the state alcohol monopoly on holidays, the pennies for one's work that force one to take one's children out of school and send them into the same poisonous atmosphere, the unhealthy sleep in filthy rooms, the existence without opportunity to evaluate one's life, and death in a sick bed at the age of thirty," or struggle.

[82] The text of the leaflet, titled "The Union of Typographical Workers for the Struggle to Improve the Conditions of Labor (The History of the Emergence of the Union, its Tasks, and its Aims)," is found in TsGAOR, f. 63, 1903, d. 667, vol. 1, pp. 229–30. Although it first appeared on September 9 (ibid., p. 266), the content refers only to events before the September 6 arrests. Since, however, no copy was found during those arrests, it was most likely written by one of the leaders who had not yet been arrested—Balashev, Khanskii, Komkov, Medvedev, Popov, or Reshetov—or by someone from outside this circle.

This leaflet contained little of the moralizing idealism of the earlier "Letter to Comrade Compositors." There was no talk of a "cozy little corner" for one's family, of the "fairness" of workers' demands to owners, or of God's support. Instead, the leaflet bristled with the words and expressions of Marxist political economy: class, proletariat, capitalism, class consciousness, solidarity, cooperatives, collective struggle. The author realized that these words, which mostly retained Latin rather than Slavic linguistic roots, were new to most of his readers, so he carefully and didactically explained the meaning of each. Yet even this leaflet did not lack a moral vision. Like the earlier "Letter," but also like much of the propaganda of Russian populists and later socialists, it presented the fundamental goal of the class struggle as allowing workers to live like human beings, rather than to remain as "working cattle" and "slaves."

Since the authorship of this leaflet is unknown, and its rhetoric so atypical, we must be cautious about claiming its representativeness. On the contrary, later writings by activist workers indicate that a fervent moralism would remain strongly in evidence, giving shape and color to political and social discourse even as activists grew more committed to ideas of socialism and class. In this sense, this leaflet, whatever its source, may have been a herald.