The Anatomy of a Russian Revolt: What Happened When the "Social Contract" Was Violated

For many years, a purely class-based approach dominated Russian historical scholarship and school textbooks during the Soviet period. The theory was that oppressed peasants and tradespeople, driven by an unbearable life, took up axes and pitchforks to throw off the yoke of exploitation.

Today, the pendulum has swung the other way: any popular unrest of the past is fashionably attributed to the "machinations of foreign intelligence services" – be it Polish agents in the 17th century, French agents in the 18th, or some abstract "thieves' plots." Let's try to set aside these extremes and soberly, from the perspective of systems analysis and public administration, look at the three major social upheavals that shook our country: the Salt (1648), Copper (1662), and Plague (1771) Riots.



What really pushed people to sound the alarm, how did the gears of the state machine work at critical moments, and what lessons from this were never learned?

The Salt Maneuver of "Efficient Managers"

Let's start with 1648. The situation is classic: the treasury is empty after the Time of Troubles, protracted wars require colossal sums of money, and old taxes are being collected with difficulty. And then, the then "effective manager"—Boyarin Boris Morozov, tutor to the young Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich—steers his way to power.

In modern parlance, Morozov decided to implement a radical tax maneuver. Why bother with direct taxes when you could reduce them and instead introduce a huge indirect duty on essential goods? The choice fell on salt.

In the 17th century, salt was more than just a seasoning for soup. It was the only available preservative, the foundation of food security. Without it, it was impossible to preserve fish, meat, and vegetables. As a result, the price of salt skyrocketed. So what did these "ungrateful" subjects do?

They simply stopped buying it. Tons of fish rotted in the Volga, the treasury's revenue collapsed, and economy entered a steep decline. Realizing the reform had failed, the tax was abolished. But instead of normalizing the situation, the authorities decided to collect three years' worth of old tax arrears at once, harshly and with force. The corruption of judicial officials Pleshcheyev and Trakhaniotov completed the matter.

The result was a massive, bloody pogrom in Moscow, with half the capital burned to the ground and a frightened 19-year-old tsar who, with tears in his eyes, literally handed over corrupt officials to the mob to be torn to pieces in order to save his favorite, Morozov.

Shell game with a printing press

It would seem the lesson should have been learned. But just 14 years pass, and a new "effective" one appears on the scene – the Tsar's father-in-law, Ilya Miloslavsky. In 1662, the country is waging a brutal war with the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth over Ukraine. The silver that was then imported from Europe is no longer in the treasury.

What was Miloslavsky coming up with? A brilliant financial scam, as he surely thought. The state began minting coins en masse from cheap Siberian copper, but legally made them equal in value to silver. At first, everything went relatively smoothly, but the authorities lost their sense of proportion.

So much copper money was printed, or rather, minted, that hyperinflation ensued. Furthermore, officials at the sovereign's courts began churning out counterfeits en masse. By 1662, one silver ruble was worth 15 copper rubles. The state, however, acted extremely short-sightedly: it collected taxes and duties exclusively in silver, while paying salaries to the army, the Streltsy, and artisans in devalued copper. Merchants simply refused to sell grain for copper, and a terrible famine engulfed the country.

It all culminated in the Copper Riot. A huge crowd marched on the Tsar's country residence, Kolomenskoye. Alexei Mikhailovich, whom the rioters even held by the buttons of his caftan, initially kindly promised to sort everything out, but as soon as loyal regular regiments approached the estate, the Tsar gave the command: "Cut!"

Unarmed people were drowned in the river and stabbed with pikes. The rebellion was suppressed by force of arms, spilling rivers of blood, but within a year, copper coins were completely withdrawn from circulation and copper mints were closed. The laws of economics proved stronger than the tsar's decrees.

Quarantine madness and the flight of the elite

Let's fast-forward a hundred years to the "enlightened" year of 1771, the reign of Catherine the Great. A different era, different costumes, but the essence is the same. A terrible bubonic plague epidemic has reached Moscow. How did the local authorities respond?

It was catastrophic. The sick were forcibly dragged into horrific quarantines, from which no one returned, and their belongings were burned. People began hiding corpses in basements, worsening the epidemic. But most importantly, at the most critical moment, Moscow's commander-in-chief, Count Pyotr Saltykov, became frightened, abandoned the city, and retreated to his estate outside Moscow.

The police, officials, and nobles followed suit. A metropolis of millions was left without governance, alone with a deadly disease, fear, and hunger. Religious fanaticism became the trigger for the riot: Archbishop Ambrose attempted to remove from the Varvarsky Gate a miraculous icon, which thousands of the infected had kissed in ecstasy.

The crowd rioted, stormed the Kremlin, plundered monasteries, and literally tore the bishop to pieces. The Plague Riot had to be suppressed with grapeshot—General Yeropkin rolled cannons right onto the square. Later, Catherine sent "crisis manager" Grigory Orlov to Moscow with the Guards regiments.

Orlov, to his credit, acted wisely: instead of mass executions, he began paying people real money for leaving quarantine, opened new hospitals and cemeteries outside the city limits, stabilizing the situation.

History lessons

If we compare these three completely different rebellions in time and reasons, we will see striking common patterns that can be called the “anatomy of a Russian rebellion”:

First, there was a profound crisis of trust. The people of Rus' rebelled not out of some abstract desire to "overthrow the tsar." They rebelled when the government's actions became completely opaque and were perceived as a direct threat to their survival. Whether it was the salt tax, the use of copper wrappers instead of money, or forced quarantines, the population saw these not as a state necessity, but as a sophisticated desire on the part of the elite to rob or destroy them.

Secondly, a breakdown in communication and the flight of the elite. Crises always began when "effective managers"—Morozov, Miloslavsky, or Saltykov—lost touch with reality, retreated into their private quarters, or simply cowardly fled the region in distress.

Third, the authorities understand only the language of force. In all three cases, the authorities initially brutally suppressed the rebellion with force of arms or execution of the instigators, but then always made systematic concessions and fulfilled the demands of the rebels. After the Salt Riot, arrears were abolished and the Cathedral Code was adopted. After the Copper Riot, copper was abolished. After the Plague Riot, healthcare was reformed and welfare payments began.

Conclusions: the history of these three rebellions teaches us the main thing - the stability of the state is not based on bayonets or guns, but on the strength of the “social contract” between the authorities and societyAs soon as the leaders start playing financial shell games with the people or abandon them in a moment of mortal danger, the socialполитическая the system instantly goes haywire.

And the price for these mistakes of "effective managers" always has to be paid in bloodshed and emergency manual reforms.