Time to read: 27 minutes(s)

When Vasily III said in 1510, "I want to come and worship at the Holy Trinity," they said, "But can we still live like the old days?" "Yes, enough of the old days." Just let me come and worship at the Holy Trinity, and you'll have the old days. And, of course, there was no old days there, because they simply installed Moscow's pishchalniks there in the center of Pskov. Everything was destroyed, the bell was removed, and so on...

STUDIO: The abolition of the veche and the liquidation of the republic required a symbolic act that would signal the end of the old life and the transition to a new one. And the removal of the bell was the perfect way to do that. This is the podcast "We'll Do It Ourselves From Now On." My name is Andrey Allahverdov. Hello.

We began with an event that rather contradicts the title of our podcast. The Pskov Republic—and even earlier, the Novgorod Republic—was liquidated, everything became subordinate to the will of the Moscow prince, and there was no alternative to the one-man rule, which eventually evolved into autocracy. How did the republics function in these cities? How did different social strata receive representation? What kind of democracy was this, and was it even a democracy? Today, we discuss this with historian Alexei Vovin, an expert on the Pskov and Novgorod Republics.

ALEXEY VOVINWhen we say "Novgorod Republic" or "Pskov Republic," we inevitably incorporate our own ideas about what a republic is. For us today, a republic is a certain antithesis of a monarchy. That is, perhaps, a certain form of personal government, which we might conditionally call monarchical, and a republic, which, accordingly, is based on some kind of broad popular representation, a kind of popular rule. For Pskov and Novgorod in particular, and for similar ancient associations in general, this modern antithesis of ours doesn't quite fit. For ancient republics, it wasn't something opposed to a monarchy, because a republic could have a monarch. But a republic is something that unites all its participants in a common cause—in fact, literally, "res publica" in Latin means "common cause." This involvement is the main, key characteristic of a republic, and in this sense, Novgorod and Pskov were certainly republics, but they weren't republics in the modern sense. Firstly, because Novgorod and Pskov almost always had a prince. The prince's figure varied in Novgorod and Pskov, and the degree of his involvement in political life varied. But both had a prince. The second important point is how the mechanisms worked. The problem is that we actually know very little about this. The sources haven't left us any conscious, detailed descriptions of this system. They themselves didn't really think about this topic much, didn't reflect much on the political system they lived under—I'm talking about the Novgorodians and Pskovians. In this sense, when we talk about specific mechanisms, we're largely left with guesswork. Judging by the lack of any references to such familiar mechanisms as elections, vote counting, or majority votes, it's likely that these mechanisms didn't exist, but that's really just our best guess. We don't even know for sure who had the right to participate in the veche.

We can hardly say that there was such-and-such representation from the urban lower classes, such-and-such representation from, say, the elites. Was there any representation at all, say, from the urban lower classes? This is probably the most heated debate among historians regarding Novgorod and Pskov. Some believe it was very broadly represented, including rural residents from all over the Novgorod or Pskov lands. Although, in my opinion, this viewpoint is the weakest. Others believe that a very narrow circle of urban elites participated in the veche. Finally, others—like me—believe it was a broad circle, but of city dwellers. We actually have problems with data, even on such basic things as who actually made up the political people of Novgorod and Pskov. In my works, in particular, I defend the view that it was a broad circle of city residents. Well, naturally, not everyone; it was adult men, heads of families. We know nothing of any democratic mechanisms in the modern sense. And so we assume that these mechanisms were, in all likelihood, very archaic, and that we are talking, in all likelihood, about what is commonly called acclamation. That is, when a proposed decision is made, and the political crowd, the political people, through their outcry, their visible reaction, either approves or, conversely, rejects this decision. In Novgorod and Pskov in the 14th and 15th centuries, judging by the chronicle accounts we have, primarily, some political struggle took place. It was very archaic, but nevertheless, we know of cases of the literal physical removal of the Pskov prince from a veche (veche), when the Pskovites at the end of the 15th century, "having kicked him out of his place," expelled him from the city. We know of cases where judicial decisions were made at the veche, including those involving matters of life and death. This, in my view, is one of the veche's main prerogatives—the trial of the highest political figures. Specifically, we know of death sentences handed down at the veche, including, for example, against Pskov posadniks, who suffered for their political stance, for their attempt to introduce something into the political agenda, so to speak. Similarly, there are major controversies surrounding other institutions in medieval Pskov and Novgorod. Here, I would differentiate between them, since, despite the apparently similar overall orientation of their political structures, there were nevertheless significant differences between Novgorod and Pskov, in particular due to the different economic conditions of Pskov and Novgorod. What were the posadniks' powers, how many were there...

STUDIO: A posadnik is the head of the magistrate, the city government. Am I correct?

ALEXEY VOVIN: The etymology of the word "posadnik" is, in general, quite obvious. This is the man who was put in charge. But the meaning of the concept of posadnik is obviously changing, and what we observe in Novgorod and Pskov in the 14th–15th centuries—in Novgorod even earlier, in the 13th–15th centuries—is obviously a kind of city magistrate, appointed, not to say elected, because the mechanisms for entering, so to speak, the position of posadnik are also hidden from us by this very darkness of history. We do not know of a single case where a person of princely descent was called a posadnik, that is, in fact, there is one case, but this is most likely a copyist’s error. Apparently, in Novgorod, in the overwhelming majority of cases, this is a representative of the city boyars. But in Pskov the situation is somewhat different, since there was no large land ownership in Pskov and, in fact, even the concept of boyar in Pskov begins to appear later than the concept of posadnik. In my opinion, in general, in Pskov the evolution of the posadnichestvo and the position of posadnik was even more specific than in Novgorod. At first it was a kind of lifelong position in the first half of the 14th century. Until 1510, we do not have a single piece of information about the removal of a posadnik from office by any means. That is, if a person is a posadnik, he is called a posadnik until his death. And so I put forward the hypothesis that in Pskov, over time, when the number of posadniks increased in the 14th century, there were more than one of them, and the posadnik turned from a position into a title. In relation to Novgorod, the figure of the tysyatsky also appears, and later of tysyatskie, because later, in the late period, there were also several of them in Novgorod, just like the posadniks. The tysyatsky is associated with the so-called decimal division – into tens, hundreds and thousands. Actually, the population of Novgorod amounted to a thousand. In Pskov, the figure of the tysyatsky does not appear, in Pskov there are sotskys, one order lower, but there are many of them. But we don’t know what the specific duties of the thousand-man and hundred-man were, and in fact, it’s quite possible that they didn’t actually have a specific range of duties, and they received their powers from the same veche situationally. That is, for example, we often encounter the formula “Pskovichi dasha na veche voivodeship posadniku so-and-so.” That is, they appointed such and such a mayor to lead the troops. It follows from this that the title of posadnik in itself did not yet imply the leadership of the Pskov militia, but this right was granted by the Pskovites at the veche. This is, in general, a common situation for all medieval communities, when the strict division of responsibilities, powers, and so on, to which we, people of modern times, are accustomed, did not exist. Here, the same figure of the tysyatsky is spoken of, in relation to Novgorod, on the one hand, as the head of the city thousand, that is, the militia. That is, it is literally a military function. On the other hand, we know that the tysyatsky administered justice in all kinds of commercial matters. You know, it's a patchwork quilt, a very old patchwork quilt, with more holes than patches.

STUDIO: You say we don't know exactly who had the right to participate in the veche, but what does it mean to have the right to participate in the veche? Again, I'm approaching this from today's perspective. Let's say someone wanted to come to the veche, to the square where everyone was gathering, what if they weren't allowed in?

ALEXEY VOVINYou see, the thing is, we're actually talking about very small communities. That is, in terms of the 14th century, but again, we don't have any data on the size of the veche. Several attempts have been made to calculate it empirically, but there are a lot of pitfalls here. We don't know whether they would have been allowed to attend the veche or not, but we do know that there was some division within the population of the Pskov and Novgorod lands. In this regard, I always like to cite an example from the late 15th century, when the residents of Opochka—Opochka at that time was a Pskov suburb, that is, a town dependent on Pskov—hanged a horse thief. And if we take the Pskov Judicial Charter, we see that horse theft is one of those crimes punishable by death. In fact, the Pskov Judicial Charter is the first legal document in Russian history to explicitly mention the death penalty.

From the Pskov judicial charter

This charter was written out from the charter of the Grand Duke Alexander and from the charter of Prince Constantine and from all the additions (to them) of the Pskov original customs, with the blessing of their fathers, the priests of all five cathedrals and hieromonks and deacons and priests and all the clergy, by all of Pskov at the veche in 1397.
4. The prince and the mayor shall not judge at the veche. They (should) judge in the prince's chambers, guided by (Pskov) law, in accordance with the oath. If they judge not according to the law, then may God judge them at the Second Coming of Christ. And neither the prince nor the mayor shall accept secret bribes.
7. A thief who robbed the (Pskov) Kremlin, a horse thief, a traitor and an arsonist are subject to the death penalty.
8. If anything is stolen in the posad, then the thief is to be pardoned twice, not killed, but, if caught, punished according to his guilt. If caught a third time, he is to be killed, just as a thief who robbed the Kremlin is to be killed. 

ALEXEY VOVINSo, the residents of Opochka, it would seem, executed this horse thief in full compliance with the Judicial Charter, but afterward they fell into disgrace with Pskov. They were fined 100 rubles, a significant sum. Why? Because the residents of Opochka did something they had no right to do. They appropriated the prerogative of the Pskov veche, which they were not part of. This is further evidence that suburban residents, like rural residents, had no right to participate in the veche. I can't say, and no one can say, whether there were any screening mechanisms in place. Of course, it's hard to imagine metal detectors and passport checks at the entrance to a Pskov or Novgorod veche, but I repeat, these are small communities where everyone knows each other. It's a completely different type of community compared to those in which we live. I don't think there was any sort of culling there, but in principle it's obvious that, excuse the repetition, the outlines of a political people were being drawn there, that is, the group of people who were actually responsible for making decisions and could somehow influence them.

The veche could be convened—and, strictly speaking, often was—on an emergency basis, for some newly arisen reason. Then the veche bell would ring, and the people would gather for the veche. It's perfectly obvious that in this situation, no villagers, not even residents of Opochka, Gdov, Ostrov, or other Pskov suburbs, could attend the veche, firstly. Logistics simply didn't allow it. And secondly, how could this notification actually be accomplished? We know of one of the most famous examples, perhaps the Novgorod veche of 1132. и 1136 or or, because it's possible they're the same event. There, very similar events are described under the two years when the Novgorodians openly exiled the prince for the first time. And to oust him, they called upon the Pskovians and Ladoga residents. This is the very moment when, apparently, these urban communities of the three main cities of the Novgorod land were still conceived of as a single entity. Later, the fates of Pskov and Ladoga were very different, because Ladoga became a suburb of Novgorod, while Pskov, on the contrary, became isolated and began to develop independently.

In the summer of 1136, the Novgorodians summoned the Pskovians and Ladoga residents and decided at a veche to expel their Prince Vsevolod. They placed him in the bishop's court with his wife, children, and mother-in-law. Guards, armed with 30 men a day, watched him day and night. He sat in prison for two months, and then they released him from the city. Here are his crimes:
         1 Does not respect the smerds.
         2 “Why did you want to land in Pereyaslavl?”
         3 "He fled the battlefield before everyone else."
And they did not let him in until another prince came.
That same summer, Prince Svyatoslav Olgovich from Chernigov came to Novgorod. […]
Vsevolod went to Kyiv to see his old lieutenant Yaropolk. Then the Pskovites came to him, bowed their heads, and took Vsevolod as their prince. And when he arrived in Pskov, […] they greeted him honorably with crosses, sang long life to him, and seated him on the throne.
When the Novgorodians heard that Vsevolod was in Pskov, a great rebellion arose in Novgorod, as some of Vsevolod's people refused to follow him. Others fled to Pskov to join Vsevolod. Then the Novgorodians plundered their houses. They also searched for any boyars who had been Vsevolod's friends, and exacted up to fifteen hundred grivna from them. They even exacted from innocent people. And they gave that money to merchants to equip them for war.
Then Svyatoslav Olgovich, having gathered the entire Novgorod land, brought his brother and the Kursk and Polovtsian troops and marched on Pskov to drive out Vsevolod. The Pskovians did not submit to them, nor did they drive out the prince, but rather became wary and set up a barricade.
Having thought on the way, Prince Svyatoslav Olgovich and all the people turned back, saying:
"Let us not shed blood with our brothers. Perhaps God will arrange things by His providence."
At the same time, Prince Vsevolod Mstislavich died in Pskov and was laid to rest in the Church of the Holy Trinity, which he himself had built.

STUDIO: Why didn’t a system like that in Novgorod and Pskov take shape in other places?

ALEXEY VOVIN: My answer will not be very original. Let's start with the fact that the picture we observe in the 12th and first half of the 13th centuries does not particularly stand out in Novgorod and Pskov compared to other Russian lands. In general, the first veche, as we know, was not the Novgorod and Pskov ones, but the Kiev veche. Which, in general, is probably not very surprising. Veche news in the pre-Mongol period, I emphasize, we have them in general throughout the entire territory of Rus'. In my opinion, the veche is a purely urban phenomenon, which is associated with the rise and growth of cities with the rise and growth of city dwellers as a certain social stratum, which is aware of its strength and gradually begins to oppose itself to the princely power. And this is natural, some kind of game of balance that is constantly changing. On the one hand, we know of many cases where “the people of Kyiv expel the prince.” Another thing is that these reports from the 12th-13th centuries do not allow us to say that these early veche were capable of developing some kind of positive agenda or proposing anything. The negative agenda is clear: we don't like him, they showed the way to this very prince or some other undesirable fellow citizens. And in the 14th–15th centuries in Pskov and Novgorod we already see this in some form. Most likely, we are talking about the fact that these early veches had an even more archaic character than the Novgorod and Pskov ones of the 14th–15th centuries. Well, and most importantly, because of the Mongol invasion. Because, as we know, the Mongols mainly targeted cities. This layer of city dwellers, who were beginning to realize their strength and were gradually beginning their movement as some kind of political actor, was destroyed. Not completely, but he was dealt a very significant blow. And who were those new townspeople who came to replace the dead, we do not know. Perhaps these were new people who came from the villages. And, accordingly, they no longer carried within themselves the political culture of the previous period that was emerging. Therefore, in the post-Mongol period, we still observe veche reports not only in Pskov and Novgorod – in Rostov the Great there are mentions of veche in the 14th century, in Tver. That is, it still existed, but it was fading away. Plus the second factor: in the Grand Duchy of Vladimir – well, the Grand Duchy of Vladimir is an ephemeral thing – after the Mongol invasion, there is a strengthening of the prince's power, and this strengthening is connected with the fact that, well, as I already said, firstly, the townspeople, who were some kind of opponents of the princes, are dying, and secondly, another very important social stratum is dying to a significant extent – ​​the pre-Mongol warriors are dying. Another very important social stratum, the pre-Mongol warriors, perished to a significant extent. For them, the prince was not a master among slaves, but the first among equals. And this is the very same layer from which, say, in Western Europe, the aristocracy is later born, which to a certain extent is also an opponent of this “university of rule,” to paraphrase the monarchy. The new warriors were also recruited from an unknown source, and the prince's relationship with them immediately changed. And so the princely power in northwestern Rus' is strengthened, while in Novgorod, on the contrary, from the very beginning, starting in the 11th century, a tradition was formed that the prince in Novgorod was always the one who was next in line for the Kiev throne. He doesn’t sit there for long, he is in a state of, how can I say, readiness to jump to Kyiv, he thinks about this first and foremost. And the prince in Novgorod does not have any special connections with the local elites; he is an outsider here. Therefore, the figure of the posadnik appears in Novgorod, that is, the princely power is weakened in this sense in Novgorod from the very beginning, long before the Mongol invasion. Well, Pskov, of course, in a sense followed in the wake of Novgorod in terms of political culture. Plus, Pskov in the 12th century was, in general, of course, a terrible backwater, and generally not a very large city. Princes began to appear steadily only from the 13th–14th centuries, meaning that the princely throne, in principle, appeared quite late, which naturally did not contribute to the strengthening of princely power.

STUDIO: Did this system—let's call it republican, for example—offer any advantages over the monarchical system, which we'll also call it that, for lack of a better term? Cultural, economic, or in terms of governance efficiency?

ALEXEY VOVINYes, what we observe is a striking difference between Novgorod and Pskov in the 14th and 15th centuries, say, and Moscow, in terms of, for example, the development of document flow. A general surge in literacy. Primarily, of course, document flow and private deeds. This is also a long-known story, associated not only with Novgorod and Pskov, but with all similar self-governing urban communities, where, let's say, the less vertical political structures are compared to those with, in fact, one-man rule, this gives rise to stronger horizontal ties within society. Since there is no one who is older or younger, or this is not as clearly expressed, this implies that people require a greater number of agreements recorded in writing. When Moscow encounters Novgorod and Pskov, it studies them very carefully, including this documentary heritage. Trade—well, it's difficult, of course, to say whether it's a question of political system or geographic location, but it's clear that in terms of trade, Novgorod and Pskov were far ahead of northeastern Rus'. Clearly, they were an outpost on the border with the Latin world, with Catholic Europe: there was the border, the Livonian frontier, right there, tangible. All this created certain disadvantages. And here, too, the story of how Novgorod and Pskov lost their complete independence is illustrative. With Novgorod, everything is extremely simple. It actually happened on the battlefield. There was the famous Battle of the Shelon River, after which, in fact, Novgorod's annexation by Moscow became inevitable, although it occurred seven years later.

From the Novgorod Tale about the campaign of Ivan III in 1471 

In the year 6979 (1471), Grand Prince Ivan Vasilyevich became enraged at Novgorod the Great, began gathering his army, and began sending it against the Novgorod lands. They first took Staraya Russa, burned the holy churches, and razed all of Staraya Russa to the ground, and marched on the Shelon River, waging war. The Pskovites, however, aided the prince and inflicted much harm on the Novgorod lands. […] And they began to fight, and the Novgorodians drove the Muscovites beyond the Shelon River, but a Tatar ambush regiment attacked the Novgorodians, and many Novgorodians perished, some fled, others were captured, and others were taken prisoner and much harm was done; and all this happened before the arrival of the Grand Prince.

ALEXEY VOVINWhy was it lost? Because Moscow had already created an effective system of local troops by that time. Moscow's grand princes were able to grant land to their warriors in exchange for service, placing them on the land, and they would report for service "mounted, men, and armed." We know that Pskov also had some sort of land grant in exchange for service, but it was apparently in its infancy. That is, there was no unified, clear political will, as is always the case in more democratic communities where decision-making is, in a sense, collegial. Of course, when we talk about Novgorod and Pskov, we always need to clarify that this is not the modern concept of democracy, but nevertheless, it is clear that if we compare it with northeastern Rus', and Moscow in particular, there was much more collegiality there. Pskov, unlike Novgorod, did not enter into direct confrontation with Moscow. This, of course, was also a surrender under threat of force, but beyond considerations of direct force, other considerations were clearly at play, as the Pskovites recognized their belonging to this still very ephemeral entity, the Grand Duchy. And as early as the 15th century, they recognized themselves as the "patrimony of the Grand Duke": "We, the Pskovites, are free men, the patrimony of the Grand Duke." Such an oxymoron from a modern perspective: how can we be, on the one hand, a patrimony, and on the other, free men? This contradiction, in our view, reflects Pskov's ambivalent position in the last quarter of the 15th century and the first decade of the 16th century, when Novgorod had already been captured, and Pskov was next in line. They wanted to delay this moment somehow, hoping to live "in the old way," that is, according to their customs. But they considered themselves, in essence, vassals, perhaps, to use feudal terminology, vassals of the Grand Duke.

STUDIO: Why was it necessary to destroy the Pskov Republic? It couldn't exist as part of the state, but under a slightly different structure. As they would say today, as an autonomous entity?

ALEXEY VOVINWe know such examples from Western European material. That is, all sorts of things, for example, in Germany. Various free cities survived well until the Weimar Republic, in some form, and in some sense, one could say that they continue to exist today, because we know that in the FRG there is, for example, the free city of Hamburg. And the fact that Hamburg is a free city is, in a sense, an echo of its medieval communal history. On the other hand, an alternative example is Italy, the main center of development of the communal movement. There are two of them. Italy and Flanders. Well, that is, Belgium, the Netherlands. These are the two main zones of urban development. And in a political sense too. Well, Italy even a little earlier than Flanders. All these free cities did not survive the 16th century. Well, I also can’t help but mention the remarkable fact that the first thing the Medici did after they finally captured Florence with the help of French troops was to remove the bell and take it away. Because the bell is a symbol of communal freedom. Well, it’s clear that they did this not because a couple of decades before, Vasily III had taken the bell from Pskov, and several decades before that, Ivan III had taken it from Novgorod. Of course, this is just a similar phenomenon in similar circumstances. But is there actually a concept as to why this happened? Why was such integration possible in Germany, but impossible in Italy? This explanation also applies to Novgorod and Pskov. The whole point is that. In Italian cities, in addition to this actual communal self-government, what is called, well, in English, a city state, or in Italian, città-stato, a city-state, began to take shape. In Italy, a significant percentage of the city population consisted of petty knights who had moved to the cities, small feudal lords who led this very knightly way of life in the city. And together with their, so to speak, physical presence, they gave the Italian cities a very important thing - military power at a time when the main striking force on the battlefield was still the heavily armed knightly cavalry. Therefore, Italian cities were given the opportunity to not just be passive political actors, caring only about their own self-government. They began to actively pursue foreign policy, fighting with each other, with the emperor, with someone else, that is, their independence tended to turn into independence, because they had military force, they were capable of waging wars of conquest. They were not perceived as something that could be integrated into oneself. They were perceived as competitors who could either be suppressed by military force or somehow negotiated with, like with Venice, first suppressed and then negotiated with. That is, Italian cities, unlike, say, German ones, already claimed to be independent. In this sense, Novgorod and Pskov are more similar to Italian cities than, say, German ones, because in addition to the princes, they had their own military force. As I already said, they tried to field a mounted warrior there from 10 ploughs. This was discussed at the meeting, there were heated debates about whether it was necessary to expel people from church land or not, and so on? But we just know of references where the mayor goes on a campaign with the Pskovites, and no prince is even mentioned there. They had a certain military tradition, and they were obviously gradually moving in the direction of—it is clear that this was a time when these concepts had not yet been formulated—something that would later lead to the idea of ​​independence, not just self-sufficiency.

STUDIO: You mentioned three separate cases where the bell was removed and taken away. So, this tradition was simply abruptly stopped and that was it – no more meetings, no more veche?

ALEXEY VOVINThe inertia of these suppressed veche, democratic, or whatever you want to call it, republican institutions—it existed. We know a perfect example—the testimony of a defector. It's from the 1540s, a defector to Lithuania who tells of "the Pskov peasants gathering for a veche." So, all these boyar elites were removed from Pskov. Well, maybe some remained, but, by and large, they were removed. So, it would seem that the elites who knew this tradition best, who played the most important role, disappeared, but nevertheless, these traditions apparently permeated it so deeply that even under the Muscovite state, we still have news of the Pskov veche, so there was some inertia. It's not like 1510 and then it's over. There was some kind of continuation. We don't have such information about Novgorod, but it's entirely possible that this also happened. It's unlikely that it disappeared completely, just suddenly. Integration is happening. Of course, this integration is largely achieved through the destruction of this very old way of life, what they wanted to preserve most of all—that is, essentially, self-government. That is, the custom by which they live—a patriarchal, pre-modern view of the world, the old way of life in the sense of "how our ancestors lived." They are losing this old way of life. This is, in fact, a bargaining chip between Vasily III and the Pskovites.

From the Pskov Third Chronicle

And the Grand Prince sent Clerk Tretyak Dalmatov with a flattering apology. And the Pskovites rejoiced at the Sovereign's favor and the old order, when Tretyak presented them with the first and new tribute from the Grand Prince at the veche: "My Pskovites, my patrimony, so desires to live in the old way, and you would please me with two wills: that you have no veche, and that the eternal bell be removed, and that there be two viceroys here, and that, according to the decree of the viceroy, you too will continue to live in the old way. But if you do these two wills to the Sovereign, or else God wills it according to His will, He has much power ready, and there will be bloodshed on those who do not fulfill the Sovereign's will." And our Sovereign wishes to visit Pskov to pay homage to the Holy Trinity. Yes, having dissuaded it, he sat down for degrees. 

ALEXEY VOVINWhen Vasily III said in 1510, "I want to come and worship at the Holy Trinity," they said, "But can we still live like the old days?" "Yes, enough of the old days." Just let me worship at the Holy Trinity, and you'll have it. And, of course, there was no old days there, because they simply put Moscow's pishchalniks there in the center of Pskov. That is, everything was destroyed, the bell was removed, and so on. But nevertheless, due to the fact that Novgorod and Pskov are simply very large pieces of the pie. And if I'm not mistaken, at the time of joining the Muscovite state—well, having become part of the Muscovite state, so to speak—Novgorod became, in fact, the largest city in the Muscovite state. And Pskov had caught up by then, so it's possible it became second. In any case, they were comparable in size. It was a piece that still needed to be digested. It took some time to digest this.

STUDIO: Does this story about the veche, about the Pskov and Novgorod republics, give us any experience that is useful in modern times?

ALEXEY VOVINOf course, this has no practical application for us; that is, it's a tradition that has ended. Another thing is that similar things arose in later Russian history. The most famous example is the Time of Troubles. And it's not even connected with Novgorod or Pskov, but rather with the northern cities in general, which began to unite and eventually invited Mikhail Skopin-Shuisky. The alliance with Jacob de la Gardie, the liberation of Moscow, and so on. These northern cities, cut off from the Moscow government, demonstrate a remarkable capacity for self-organization; that is, they begin to act as political entities of sorts, even though they are completely different cities, with completely different populations. Nevertheless, they act together, as a united force. Similarly, this story about the second militia—Kuzma Minin's appeal to the people of Nizhny Novgorod, in fact. There is a thesis, somewhat widespread in the public consciousness, and among people of varying political persuasions—that Russia gravitates toward a strongman. That the political tradition of the Russian people is linked to autocracy. That there must be one person responsible for everyone. It's a paternalistic attitude toward authority. It seems to me that the example of Novgorod and Pskov, especially when compared to Western Europe, where essentially the same phenomena exist, is truly part of tradition, part of political culture, not in the sense of, "Well, we all remember the Novgorod veche, that's why we're so freedom-loving and democratic." Of course, nothing remains of that Novgorod veche in our hearts, literally. But it does mean that our political culture, broadly speaking, embraces a wide variety of, shall we say, political developments. And if we take medieval examples, there aren't any fundamental differences, for example, with Western Europe. Therefore, this thesis—well, in itself, it certainly seems rather absurd—about the craving for a strong hand and so on. In this case, it could serve as a counterargument. Let's look at this. Yes, of course, we know that Moscow ultimately prevailed, with its already established tradition of strong princely power, which generally grew stronger over time. But those Novgorodians and Pskovians of the mid-15th century, for example, didn't yet know that Moscow would prevail. They, in a sense, were also involved in this great rivalry for leadership. Yes, Novgorod ultimately lost, but that doesn't really mean anything. It only means that Novgorod lost, and the alternative itself existed.

STUDIO: Thank you for the very interesting talk by Alexey Vovin, a specialist in the history of the Pskov and Novgorod republics. This was the podcast "We'll Do It Ourselves." Listen to us, comment—your opinions are important to us. See you there.