The single most important event in Russian history between the reforms of Peter the Great and the revolution of 1905 was the abolition of serfdom. When, in February 1861, Alexander II signed the final act of emancipation, he sealed the doom of the old order without, however, realizing fully the tremendous impact which his action was destined to make upon the structure of the autocracy. Yet almost immediately the emancipation forced the government to introduce other sweeping reforms which in general touched upon every aspect of Russian life and, in particular, created a whole set of institutions in order to absorb the newly freed peasants into the body politic. Because the effects of the emancipation were so far-reaching many scholars preferred to designate 1861 rather than 1917 as the watershed in modern Russian history. The proponents of this view often yielded to the natural temptation of seeking the significance of 1861 in terms of what happened in 1917. They argued, convincingly, that like the other great agrarian reforms in East Central Europe during the nineteenth century, the emancipation in Russia left behind an un resolved paradox which gradually sapped the vital forces of the state and society. The autocracy, by failing to regard industrialization as a high order of political business until late in the century, denied creative outlets to the vast energies which it had unleashed. Thus it shared the heavy responsibility for the social and economic crises of the twentieth century that shattered the political structure of East Central Europe.

However, this fascination with revolution increased the danger of finding the causes of the reform in its results, of attributing the ideas and aspirations of another generation to those who initiated the reform in a different frame of mind and under different conditions than prevailed half a century later. Consequently, some confusion has developed not only concerning the motivation for reform but also over the mechanics of its implementation.

Among the great variety of interpretations on the origins of the reforms, three schools of thought stand out. Before the revolution liberal Russian historians attributed a crucial role in launching the emancipation to the pressure of an aroused public opinion and the desire for reform which was in the air. According to most Soviet historians, the fear of mounting waves of peasant disorders forced an unwilling autocrat to grant reforms in order to head off a revolutionary upheaval. This interpretation, in modified form, has found wide acceptance in Western literature. More recently a number of American scholars have suggested that by abolishing serfdom the autocracy sought to free Russia's vast human and material resources, stimulate the economic development of the country and in a word catch up with the West. This is a more sophisticated variation of the vague thesis that the Crimean defeat exposed Russia's weakness and something drastic had to be done to correct it. Frequently, all these explanations have been lumped together as contributing factors without any effort having been made to distinguish their relative importance. Fair-minded as this last approach may seem, it really adds up to nothing more than a list of motives which might reason ably appear to have influenced those making the decisions. While this serves a useful function by indicating the main historical problems as we see them, it is now possible to move beyond this stage and identify the issue which at the time made the decisive impression on the mind of the autocrat who was after all the sole initiator of the reform.

Just as it is desirable to narrow down the range of probable motives, so it is equally important to explain why these and not others which in retrospect may seem just as valid, persuaded the autocrat to adopt a particular course of action. Statesmen rarely act as historians would like them to, on the basis of reasoned analysis of all pertinent factors. Indeed logic in politics requires above all the willingness to re-examine long-held assumptions and the courage to revise them when they are challenged by hard facts. Thus, in seeking the underlying motives for reform, it is essential to re-examine Alexander's reaction to Russia's defeat in the Crimean War which posed a direct challenge to the long-established traditions of the autocracy. Despite the relatively restricted area of military operations in the Crimean War, Russia's defeat was a catastrophe for the autocracy. The Russian army, which had treated East Central Europe as its own parade ground, saw its vaunted reputation crumble, burying beneath it the ruins of the conservative coalition. Defeat not only brought to an end an era of Russia's preponderance in East Central Europe but foreshadowed a period of diplomatic isolation. The autocrat himself had died suddenly in the midst of the war, broken by the repeated disasters inflicted on his be loved armies. Russian finances, which before the war had been restored to some semblance of order by Count Kankrin, were thrown back into chaos with the result that the credit of the country was shaken. Doubtless, the defeat would have compelled the autocracy to re-examine its policies even if Nicholas had survived the peace treaty. This fact was quickly realized by high government officials who, much like the Prussians after 1806, foresaw the need for a thorough overhauling of state and society. The initiation, direction and extent of these changes depended, of course, on the attitude of the new tsar, Alexander II.

At first, Alexander, although in close touch with the military situation, did not fully grasp the seriousness of his position and still hoped to salvage something from the debacle. Even after the fall of Sevastopol he spoke of beginning a new campaign in the spirit of Peter after Narva and Alexander after Borodino. For this reason he was delighted with the bold plan of his former adjutant and close friend Prince A. I. Bariatinskii to carry on the fight by withdrawing the main part of the army to the Perekop Peninsula, leaving a strong advance guard on the road to Simferopol, resting and strengthening the army behind this narrow front until it could renew the attack in spring. At the same time in the fall of 1855 he was encouraged by rumors of disorders in France which he believed might force Napoleon to sue for peace. In December Alexander was brought back to the harsh reality of his diplomatic isolation and military weakness by the Austrian ultimatum and Frederick William's ominous appeal for peace.

At two special conferences of high officials in December 1855 and January 1856, Alexander found little sympathy for continuing the war. His advisers warned that continual resistance meant certain defeat and possibly the loss of Poland and Finland as well. For the tsar it must have been even more unsettling to hear the War Minister V. A. Dolgorukov's blunt report (drafted by D. A. Miliutin) that, in comparison with Western Europe, Russia's military, financial and industrial resources were inadequate to meet the demands of modern warfare and would completely collapse under further strain. In the face of these compelling facts, Alexander agreed reluctantly to end the fighting, accept the Austrian ultimatum as the basis for peace negotiations, and then with grave reservations sign the Treaty of Paris. The immediate pressure of a complete collapse had been lifted, but the frightening prospect of Russia's long, slow decline remained.

Alexander slowly began to recognize how radically Russia's position had been altered by defeat in the Crimean War. His elevation to the throne took place unexpectedly and at a critical moment in the war when he had little time or inclination to ponder solutions to long-range problems in the postwar period. But suddenly, contrary to his repeated assertions, he had been forced to accept terms that were in compatible with Russia's honor and status as a great power. How would he react in the face of this shocking realization? Few of his contemporaries believed he possessed the necessary courage and resolution to face the problem squarely, let alone solve it. To accept their views at face value is to question Alexander's personal responsibility for initiating the reform. Yet to deny them requires a searching answer to the question of how a reputedly weak-willed and vacillating man like Alexander could launch a fundamental reform of Russian society while his predecessor Nicholas who lacked neither the will nor possibly the desire hesitated to take this decisive step. . . .

In the preindustrial age Russia's leap to greatness had been accomplished by placing the entire population in a state of permanent mobilization. All institutions, privileges, and resources were subordinated to the needs of the army which became a political and social power in its own right. By virtue of its enormous demands upon Russia's financial, technological and productive resources, the army dominated the economy as well. In no other country with the possible exception of Prussia did the army occupy so pre dominant a position, and in no other country did it justify its existence with such brilliant results. Until the Crimean defeat Russia had not lost a major war in over a century and a half Its growing role in European affairs was expressed dramatically by the appearance of Russian troops at the gates of Western capitals, Stockholm 1719, Berlin 1762, Paris 1815.

Neither Russia's industry and commerce, nor its intellectual and cultural achievements had yet earned it an honored place among the great powers. Only exploits of its army enforced Russia's claim to be a great European power. And in the nineteenth century the word European was synonymous with civilized. Great power status conferred enormous psychological and material rewards upon the recipient. Following Peter's lead the autocrats regarded Europe as the center of the world, adopted many of its ideas, attitudes and institutions, participated in its commerce, diplomacy and wars, permitted its nobles to travel widely and frequently to live for long periods in its capitals and spas. Once having fought its way into the charmed circle, Russia clung to its position tenaciously. Throughout the nineteenth century, but especially during the Crimean War, the autocrat and his advisers feared that a serious defeat in war would deprive Russia of its Western provinces (Finland, the Baltic and Polish-Lithuanian provinces) and drive the empire back into Asia. For similar reasons Alexander regarded as particularly humiliating the Black Sea clauses of the Treaty of Paris. Compulsory disarmament has not been imposed on any other country in Europe, except on Prussia after the crushing defeat of 1806, and it is hard to disagree with Taylor that "The Allies would not have presented such terms to any power whom they regarded as truly European." In the eyes of the Russian leaders it was Russia's destiny to serve as a bridge between Europe and Asia, as a civilizing force in the East. But for Russia to shift its center of gravity away from Europe into Asia was for most of them unthinkable.

Thus, when the army failed to hold its own on native soil against the West European powers, Alexander clearly saw that his duty was to reorganize the army so that it could fight on equal terms against a European coalition. . . . . Alexander quickly came to realize that a thorough and effective army reform involved far more than carrying out Ridiger's superficial recommendations. Soon after the war, he ordered the indefinite suspension of recruiting under the old system, thereby clearing the way for a basic change in the nature of the Russian army after the emancipation of the serfs. To overcome Russia's military weakness he had to smash the rigid social system which had been created for the same reason it was about to be destroyedÑto provide the state with the men and money to wage war. The autocracy had long recognized that from the point of view of military efficiency and financial stability a trained re serve would bolster the defense of the empire, but the shock of the Crimean defeat brought home sharply the need for rapid and decisive action. During the first half of the nineteenth century Russia was forced to maintain the largest standing army in Europe, not only because of its long, exposed frontiers and the lack of a strategic railroad network, but also because in the absence of a trained reserve the army could not increase substantially its combat strength after the outbreak of war. Consequently the size of the peacetime army was to a very large degree determined by Russia's probable role in some future general European war. In light of the traditionally close association of the three eastern courts, the autocracy had every right to expect that Russia's western frontiers would be covered in case of a war against the maritime powers by at least the benevolent neutrality of Austria and Prussia. The peculiar circumstances leading to the out break of the Crimean War wrecked these calculations and forced the autocracy to maintain substantial forces in Poland and along the Galician frontier. As it turned out the peacetime army was unequal to the task of fighting major campaigns in the Crimea and Caucasus while at the same time defending the western frontiers against possible attack. Sobering confirmation of the fact came when the high command could muster only 100,000 men for the defense of Sevastopol, where the out come of the war was being decided, when it had over two and one quarter million men under ar ns. In desperation the gov ernment resorted to extraordinary measures including unrestricted enlistments in the army and militia. These raw recruits formed new units for which of course there were no cadres, officers, supplies or equipment. They were useless for combat, a drain on the treasury and occasionally a disturbing element in the garrison towns where they were stationed. . . .

In sum, while all other European states except Britain maintained a small standing army in peacetime to hold down costs and kept a large trained reserve ready to expand the army in war, Russia was saddled with the great expense of sup porting an enormous permanent army which in time of need could not be greatly increased as a fighting force. What had prevented the autocracy from following the lead of the other great powers? Serfdom blocked the path and all attempts to get around it had failed. Under serfdom the army was recruited from the tax-paying population (peasant and merchant ) on the basis of five or six per thousand for a period of twenty-five years. Every serf who fulfilled his service obligation left the army a free man, but few were lucky enough to survive the long term and those who did were hardly fit for further military service in any capacity. In other words they could not be expected to form the nucleus of a trained reserve. Be fore the Crimean War about 80,000 men annually entered the army and were trained for a year in the reserve battalions. When the next annual levy was called up, the trainees became regular troops. As a result there were no provisions for forming a trained strategic reserve. Why then did the government not reduce the term of service in order to build up a supply of fit, trained men who could be recalled to the colors in the event of war? This simple expedient was fraught with dangerous consequences. Reducing the term of service would have greatly in creased the number of annual recruits, freed serfs at a rapid rate, and dumped a mass of landless proletarians who were trained in the use of firearms and military tactics on a society which could not absorb them. The difficulties of maintaining public order under such conditions were obvious.

Would it not have been possible to grant unlimited leaves to a certain percentage of the annual recruits in order to build up a reserve? Nicholas I tried this ingenious plan but soon discovered that without military training the serfs were useless as reserves and with training they would pose a dear threat to the supremacy of the land lord-gentry whom they were bound to serve. Miliutin had drawn the logical conclusion that Russia could not create a trained reserve which was the backbone of a modern European army without abolishing serfdom. Although there is no conclusive proof that Alexander followed this line of reasoning, a mass of supporting evidence suggests that he too had come to the conclusion that the only answer to the need for reducing expenses while increas ing the combat effectiveness of the army was to reorganize the entire military establishment beginning with the recruiting system and that this convinced him that serfdom had to be abolished. . . .

from Alfred J. Rieber. The Politics of Autocracy. (The Hague, 1966), 15-29 (excerpted), in Terence Emmons, ed., Emancipation of the Russian Serfs (New York, 1970), 72-80.