In 1899 a number of young writers formed a literary circle to discuss and analyze their works in progress. They considered themselves to be realists interested in portraying the mood of the intelligentsia and of the lower classes. They called the circle Sreda (“The Wednesdays”) for the day of their weekly meeting in the home of Nikolai Teleshov. Soon after its formation Teleshov invited Maksim Gor'kii to join the circle. At the time Gor'kii was a controversial figure who violently attacked everything the Russian intelligentsia stood for. He insisted that intellectuals would never accomplish their major objective—the liberation of the Russian people from political and economic oppression—unless they first liberated themselves. They had to cease being ineffective and moralistic and had to become selfish and aggressive individualists. Only then could they provide the Russian people with the leadership it desperately needed. Young intellectuals seeking inspiration, excitement, and escape responded enthusiastically to Gor'kii's call for self-liberation and idolized him. Members of the older generation were not so uncritical; they feared him as a harbinger of barbarism, a champion of criminals and outcasts, and an enemy of the intelligentsia.

In 1928-29 the drive for rapid industrialization exacerbated economic hardships in the Soviet Union and forced the adoption of food rationing in the major cities.1 Social discontent and social tensions grew more acute. Workers pressed for a tougher line against the educated and privileged classes, and the Stalin leadership responded by promoting a "proletarianization" of the party, government, and educational institutions. In this way the leadership hoped to win working-class support for the revolutionary path on which it was preparing to embark. But the economic hardships provoked by the industrialization drive caused the Stalin leadership to doubt whether it could indeed rely on uniform support. It feared that certain strata of the proletariat would resist the accelerated drive for industrialization and the collectivization of agriculture.

When a young peasant in early nineteenth-century Russia was conscripted into the army from the taxpaying population, he underwent a fundamental change in juridical status: born into serfdom, he became a “free” man (vol'nyi chelovek) with a civic identity. He also entered a world of bureaucratic regulation that governed his daily routine and formalized his social relationships. While the master had unlimited control over his peasants, who were in fact his personal property, governmental regulation to some extent mediated relations between military commanders and their subordinates. In military society the state sought to legislate those paternalistic values that customarily defined relations between landlord and serf, relations conceived in the image of a father supervising his child. Theoretically this relationship combined paternal concern for the welfare of the soldiers with strict discipline and punishment. Like the biblical God, commanders were supposed to be both merciful and “terrible.”

Among the approaches one might adopt in studying church-state interaction is one that endeavors to treat both church and state as active subjects and which tries to be sensitive to factional divisions within both. This approach makes it clear that just as a regime may have a religious policy, the churches may also have policies toward the regime, and that the resulting relationship reflects the interplay of both policies. If there are factions in both state and church, the policies of both will be the subject and the product of continuing debate and struggle among the factions.

Sensitivity to factionalism is not a black-and-white issue but a matter of degree. Nevertheless, Western writings on church-state relations under communism may be grouped into four general categories. In the first category are works treating both church and state as unified (nonfactionalized) entities—either explicitly (by denying factionalism) or implicitly (by ignoring it as analytically unimportant).

The Kazan Square demonstration of December 6, 1876 was one of a number of attempts by revolutionary intelligenty to forge an alliance with the common people. Two striking features of this demonstration have often been noted. First, participants in the demonstration included not only members of the radical intelligentsia but also urban workers, an unusual feature for the first socialist street demonstration in Russia. Second, fewer workers took part than the radical intelligentsia had hoped, given their active propagandizing among factory workers. Some critics have found fault with the “abstract” nature of the propaganda, to use Georgii Plekhanov's later term. He and others blamed the limited worker participation on the failure of the populists to express concretely the real, immediate interests of the workers. Plekhanov later wrote that the workers of St. Petersburg could only have been drawn to the demonstration because it was a “new spectacle, not seen before.” The workers had no tangible reason for active participation in it. “For this reason they did not go to it.”