Time to read: 11 minutes(s)

Author: Sergey Tashevsky.

On August 18 (August 29, New Style), 1760, Empress Elizabeth Petrovna issued a decree prohibiting government officials from taking bribes. What news, indeed! And like all Russian news, whether modern or centuries old, it should be understood in precisely the opposite way. In reality, Elizabeth didn't eradicate bribery with this decree; she essentially legalized it. Because at that point, officials who took bribes were, so to speak, legally suspended. Formally, Peter's decrees were still in effect, which (purely theoretically) would have subjected them to floggings, torture, exile, confiscation of property, and even death threats.

Yes, Peter's decrees were harsh—but, in essence, it was Peter himself who did more than anyone else to establish bribery in Russia! He created the bureaucratic classes and the entire state apparatus, but he failed to provide this entire crowd with incentives for selfless work for the good of the state. Yes, he assigned them salaries. But they were disproportionately small. For the lower ranks, this money was barely enough to survive on. And of course, they (as the Emperor himself wrote) "played the law like cards, matching suit to suit, and tirelessly laid mines under the fortress of truth." In other words, they continued to take bribes, which Peter fiercely fought against.

At one Senate meeting, he angrily promised to issue a decree that anyone stealing from the treasury enough to buy a rope would be hanged (the price of rope in St. Petersburg hardware stores that day, they say, skyrocketed). However, Prosecutor General Yaguzhinsky quietly retorted, "Do you really want to remain emperor without servants or subjects?" Peter, of course, was an impulsive man, but he listened to common sense, so he waved his hand and limited himself to punishing by death only the Siberian governor, Prince Gagarin, for bribery during his entire reign (and even that is a murky story; Gagarin was also accused of other crimes, most notably, plotting a rebellion and attempting to "separate" Siberia from Russia). Then Peter's ardor faded, and articles against bribe-takers remained only in the "Decree on Fiscals" and in the pages of the "Military Articles," so far back that no one who read these fascinating documents ever read them. They weren't used very often.

So, de facto, no one really bothered bribe-takers even in the late Peter the Great era. But under Peter, at least government officials were paid! And after his death, they stopped. The state treasury, as they say, was "empty," so savings were necessary. Now it was assumed that low- and mid-level officials would feed themselves as best they could, and this was very good for the state.

Catherine I, who ascended the throne after Peter, in one of her very first decrees, approving the estimate for various state expenses, wrote, as if in passing: “and the clerks are not to be given money, but are to be satisfied with the work, as was the previous custom, from petitioners, whoever gives what they wish, since they had not received any salary before, and they had food even without salary.”

And indeed! Something new in Russia is always something old. A similar system existed in Rus' for centuries before Peter the Great's reforms. It was simply called "feeding." In the hoary old days, boyars and other service people were obligated to support the population of the areas they were appointed to govern by the tsar. Officially, this "feeding" was often provided in kind: bread, meat, cheese, honey, and other delicacies. So, indeed, the tsar's servants were fed like some exotic animals. But, of course, it wasn't just food. They were also given money. This (especially when some delicate matter needed to be resolved) was much more effective than simple "feeding."

Gradually, this system of "feeding" became informal, coexisting with the payment of salaries (Ivan the Terrible, long before Peter the Great, had begun paying them to his "prikazniks," or government officials, and he himself sometimes executed those for bribes). It was quite rightly believed that officials would be more zealous and honest if they were paid by the state. But these payments were very complicated. After all, there is a colossal difference between a salary and a wage (in the modern sense of the word).

Here's how historian Olga Kosheleva writes about this: "The salary wasn't intended as an equivalent payment for labor; it was a gift, bestowed for faithful service, essentially for devotion. At the same time, it was also 'alms,' given to support one's existence. To receive even the salary stipulated by decree, one had to request it by submitting a petition addressed to the Tsar."

In other words, a salary, unlike a wage, wasn't exactly regular, even if it was promised annually. It was somewhat reminiscent of a bribe, but from the state. Moreover, it could easily be canceled, as Catherine I did.

And no wonder. After all, at her side stood a man whose very existence proved that "statesmen" could do just fine without salaries. This was the most notorious corrupt official of the era, Alexander Menshikov. Who didn't he take bribes from? From the Military Collegium, from the Moscow Treasury, from Mazepa (for assisting in his election as hetman), and from Count Gagarin himself, whom Peter ultimately executed anyway. Menshikov himself was constantly under investigation by Peter, but he got off with humorous reprimands from the Emperor. As if to say, let him steal, as long as he didn't cheat! After the death of his old friend and advisor Lefort, Peter said of Menshikov: "I have only one hand left, a thieving one, but a faithful one." And under Catherine, Menshikov became the "shadow ruler" of Russia. Understandably, with such a courtly model, officials of all ranks had something to aspire to. True, Menshikov was exiled under Peter II, but to no avail. Bribery and embezzlement in Russia continued to reach new heights, and Menshikov was succeeded (under Anna Ioannovna) by Duke Biron, who stunned contemporaries and historians alike by accepting colossal bribes from Prussia and other geopolitical adversaries of Russia. In other words, he "fed" himself off the backs of other nations. Lesser officials saw his impunity and didn't hesitate to fleece their compatriots.

It's therefore not surprising that, when drafting her decree in 1760, Elizabeth Petrovna wrote with bitterness: "The insatiable thirst for greed has reached the point that some places established for justice have become marketplaces, extortion and partiality have become the judges' prerogative, and connivance and laxity have become the approval of lawless individuals." She exiled Biron (though not even to Siberia, merely to Yaroslavl), and was already preparing to wage a life-and-death battle against corruption—but, alas, she was distracted by balls and court musicians. In practice, her decree proved unexpectedly "toothless," since it merely mitigated the fate of any bribe-taker caught red-handed. After Peter's formidable punishments, these were mere trifles: mere fines, censures, and dismissal from service! Indeed, they weren't a threat to the bribe-takers, since there was soon no one left to enforce the decree. Elizabeth died a year after it came into effect, and everything returned to normal (even Duke Biron, whom Peter III immediately recalled to St. Petersburg).

Just a couple of years later, Catherine II became the next champion of bribery. First of all, she restored officials' permanent salaries—even the lowest-ranking officials now received 30 rubles a year, a considerable amount. However, they were strictly forbidden from taking bribes if they required breaking the law. But "in fulfillment of the law"—please! Bribe-giving in Russia became a veritable science, as bribery was divided into two categories: "bribery" and "extortion." Bribery was when an official took money for something they were already obligated to do—for example, issuing a document in accordance with the law. Such a bribe was interpreted as simple gratitude, the same infamous "feeding." It was during Catherine's reign that paper bills came into use, and the people began to affectionately refer to monetary bribes as "lamb in a piece of paper." But if such a "lamb" was brought to coerce an official into doing something illegal, like changing a court verdict or forging a document, that was considered extortion. And the punishment, according to Catherine's decree... Well, not exactly severe. From a fine to (maximum) three years of hard labor.

In general, the fight against bribery throughout the Russian monarchy has waxed and waned, but never reached the level of Peter the Great's severity. Under Alexander I, for example, bribery usually resulted in dismissal. Even if the case smacked of scandal, as happened with the Tomsk governor, Demyan Illichevsky (who had received his position through Speransky's patronage, but later turned against his benefactor when he fell into disfavor). Seven years later, Speransky was pardoned, returned from exile, and appointed Governor-General of Siberia. Naturally, he forgot nothing, and immediately launched an audit of Siberia for bribery and extortion. He then wrote to the Emperor with irritation: "Tomsk province, in terms of wealth and climate, could have been one of the best provinces in Russia, but poor governance has turned it into a den of robbers." If I had brought all the officials to trial in Tobolsk, here all that remained was to hang them all. The abuses were flagrant, and due to the governor's stupidity, his wife's greed, and the obstinate greed of his brother, the governor's postmaster, they were very poorly concealed…" In short, Speransky hadn't forgotten anyone in the offender's family. But even after such a harsh assessment, Illichevsky merely lost his governorship and retired to live out his days in peace in his St. Petersburg mansion.

The fight against bribery continued in roughly the same spirit until the last days of the Russian Empire:

^{(Source: Around the World magazine)}

Immediately after the revolution and the declaration of the "dictatorship of the proletariat," the Bolsheviks decided to outdo Peter the Great's cruelty. Both their first decrees and the 1922 criminal code stipulated execution for bribery. But under Stalin, civil servants formed an untouchable and virtually uncontrollable class, and bribery became merely a pretext for settling scores. For example, in 1937, Abel Yenukidze, Secretary of the Central Committee who had displeased Stalin, was allegedly executed for bribery.

The remaining officials, especially the party elite, didn't limit themselves in any way. Incidentally, they were entitled to "salaries," just like in the good old days: in addition to their official salaries, they received much larger sums "under the table." This trend among Soviet officials began in the early 30s, and it seems to continue to this day—in Russia. But in Soviet times, when money didn't mean much, another important tradition for officials was revived: that same "feeding."

Yes, during times of widespread shortages, the bribes that both high-ranking and low-ranking officials relied on began to arrive in kind. Just as under Ivan the Terrible, these could be particularly exquisite products like sausage and black caviar, unobtainable by the average person. Or rare books, televisions, carpets, imported boots, people on the waiting list for an apartment or a car... Some officials exchanged their "resources" with other officials, and such "in-kind exchange" was considered the most natural thing to do. After all, they had to somehow survive in the era of developed socialism!

So this uniquely Russian idea of ​​"feeding" outlived both the boyars and Peter the Great's officials. It also outlived Soviet power. When the USSR collapsed, and money once again became the most coveted resource, it flowed to those who had managed to occupy leadership positions. To this day, wealth in Russia is often created not by business, labor, or talent, but by official position. And really, why all this torment if you have a country that "feeds" you?

But perhaps something has changed, though not for the better. Never in Russian history have anti-corruption fighters been declared the state's main enemies. Now, they are considered to be encroaching on the most sacred things—stability, the legitimacy of power, and primordial Russian values. After all, a well-fed official, manager, or president is a symbol of national well-being. The army and police work to protect them. Factories produce shells and drones day and night for them. Blood is shed for them.

But this isn’t even a golden calf, but just a lamb in a piece of paper.