Latest / The Romanov Dynasty: Rise, Power, and Bloody End — Fexingo History / Catherine the Great's Instruction: Enlightened Despotism or Propaganda
Transcript
- Lucas: So, Catherine the Great is famous for her love of Enlightenment philosophy—she corresponded with Voltaire, hosted Diderot in St. Petersburg, even bought his library. But she also ruled as an absolute autocrat. In 1767, five years into her reign, she launched an ambitious project to reconcile those two worlds: a new law code based on Enlightenment principles, written by her own hand. Luna: Wait, Catherine herself wrote a law code? Lucas: She wrote the guiding principles, yes. It was called the Nakaz, or Instruction. It was a document of over 500 articles, drawn heavily from Montesquieu's Spirit of the Laws, Beccaria's On Crimes and Punishments, and other Enlightenment texts. She wanted to replace the outdated 1649 law code, which was still based on serfdom and autocracy, with something more humane and rational. Lucas: The Nakaz called for equality before the law, proportionality of punishment, and even limited religious toleration. It also hinted at eventual emancipation of the serfs, though cautiously. Catherine saw herself as a philosopher on the throne, and she wanted Russia to be seen as a civilized European state. Luna: So she was genuine about reform? Or was it more about image? Lucas: That's exactly the debate. On one hand, she did limit torture, and some legal reforms were implemented later. But the Nakaz was also propaganda. She sent copies to Voltaire, who praised it as the greatest monument of the age. And she convened a Legislative Commission of 564 deputies from across the empire—nobles, townspeople, state peasants, and even non-Russian minorities—to discuss it. Lucas: The commission met in the Moscow Kremlin's Palace of Facets in the summer of 1767. Catherine wanted them to voice their grievances and help shape the new code. But the debates quickly revealed deep divisions. The nobles wanted more power over their serfs; the townspeople wanted greater commercial rights; the state peasants complained about land shortages and heavy taxes. Luna: So everyone brought their own agenda. Lucas: Exactly. And the serfs themselves had no direct representation—only the state peasants, who were technically free but bound to the land. The real serfs, who made up half the population, were not allowed to speak. Some deputies from the north, where serfdom was less entrenched, actually proposed limiting the nobility's power over peasants. That caused an uproar. Lucas: One noble deputy, Prince Mikhail Shcherbatov, argued that serfdom was the foundation of the state and any reform would ruin the economy. He even wrote a rebuttal to the Nakaz, defending traditional autocratic rule. Catherine was furious but couldn't openly oppose him, because her own power rested on the nobility. Luna: So the commission became a platform for the very interests she was trying to reform. Lucas: Precisely. After a year and a half of heated debate, Catherine dissolved the commission in December 1768, using the outbreak of war with the Ottoman Empire as a convenient excuse. She never reconvened it. The new law code never materialized. Lucas: But the Nakaz wasn't entirely forgotten. Catherine did implement some of its principles in later years: she reformed the provincial administration in 1775, issued a Charter to the Nobility in 1785 that formalized their rights, and even a Charter to the Towns. But serfdom actually expanded during her reign, as she granted hundreds of thousands of state peasants to her favorites. Luna: So the Enlightenment rhetoric faded when it came to actual power. Lucas: Yes, and the Pugachev Rebellion of 1773–1775 sealed that. When Emelyan Pugachev, a Don Cossack claiming to be the dead Peter III, led a massive uprising of Cossacks, serfs, and Bashkirs, Catherine realized that any hint of emancipation could ignite a social explosion. After that, she became more conservative, relying on the nobility to keep order. Lucas: But the Nakaz had a long afterlife. It was translated into many European languages and read by the French philosophes. It influenced the legal thinking of later Russian reformers, like Mikhail Speransky in the early 19th century, who drafted a more systematic code. And it stands as a fascinating document of the tensions between Enlightenment ideals and autocratic reality. Luna: It sounds like Catherine's greatest failure, in a way. Lucas: Or her greatest lesson in realpolitik. She wanted to be both a philosopher and an autocrat, but ultimately, autocracy won. The Nakaz remained a blueprint for what could have been, but the structural power of the nobility and the fear of rebellion made reform impossible. It's a story that echoes through Russian history—reform from above always meets resistance from below and beside. Lucas: So when you think of Catherine the Great, don't just think of the Potemkin villages and the expansion of the empire. Also think of that commission hall in the Kremlin, where for a few months, the voices of Russia's diverse estates were heard—only to be silenced again. Luna: And the serfs never got their voice. Lucas: Not in 1767. Not for another century, until the emancipation of 1861. And even then, it came with strings attached. The Nakaz remains a 'what if' moment in Russian history—a chance that slipped away.