V. I.

Lenin

Casual Notes

I. Beat – But Not to Death!

O n January 23, in Nizhni-Novgorod, the Moscow High Court of
Justice, in a special session, with the participation of representatives of the social-estates , tried the
case of the murder of the peasant Timofei Vasilyevich Vozdukhov,
who had been taken to the police-station “to sober up” and there beaten up by four policemen, Shelemetyev, Shulpin,
Shibayev, and Olkhovin, and by acting Station Sergeant Panov, so
that he died in the hospital the next day.

Suchis the simple tale of this case, which throws a glaring
light upon what usually and always goes on in our police-stations.

Asfar as can be gathered from the extremely brief newspaper
reports, what appears to have happened is the following. On
April 20, Vozdukhov drove up to the Governor’s house in a
cab. The superintendent of the Governor’s house came out to him;
in giving evidence at the trial the superintendent stated that
Vozdukhov, hatless, had been drinking but was not drunk, and
that he, Vozdukhov, complained to him about a certain steamboat
booking office having refused to sell him a ticket (?). The
superintendent ordered Shelemetyev, the policeman on duty, to
take him to the police-station. Vozdukhov was sufficiently sober
to be able to speak quietly with Shelemetyev and on arriving at
the police-station quite distinctly told Sergeant Panov his name
and occupation. Notwithstanding all this, Shelemetyev, no doubt
with the knowledge of Panov, who had just questioned Vozdukhov,
“pushed” the latter, not into the common cell, in which there were a number of other drunkards, but into
the adjoining “soldiers’ lock-up.” As he pushed him, his sword got caught on the latch of the door and it
cut his hand slightly; imagining that Vozdukhov was holding the
sword, he rushed at him to strike him, shouting that his hand
bad been cut. He struck Vozdukhov with all his might in the
face, in the chest, in the side; he struck him so hard that
Vozdukhov fell, striking his forehead on the floor and begging
for mercy. “Why are you hitting me?” he implored, according to the statement of a witness, Semakhin, who was in
the neighbouring cell at the time. “It was not my fault. Forgive me, for Christ’s sake!” According to the
evidence of this witness, it was not Vozdukhov who was drunk,
but sooner Shelemetyev. Shelemetyev’s colleagues, Shulpin and
Shibayev, who had been continuously drinking in the police-station since the first day of Easter week (April 20 was
Tuesday, the third day of Easter week), learned that Shelemetyev
was “teaching” (the expression used in the indictment)
Vozdukhov a lesson. They went into the soldiers’ lock-up
accompanied by Olkhovin, who was on a visit from another
station, and attacked Vozdukhov with their fists and feet. Police Sergeant Panov came on the scene and struck
Vozdukhov on the head with a book, and then with his fists. “Oh! they beat and beat him so hard that my belly
ached for pity,” said a woman witness, who was under arrest
there at the time. When the “lesson” was over, the sergeant very coolly ordered Shibayev to wipe the blood from the
victim’s face—it would not look so bad then; the chief might
see it—and then to fling him into the common cell. “Brothers!” cried Vozdukhov to the other
detainees, “see how the police have beaten me. Be my witnesses, I’ll lodge a complaint.” But he never lived to
lodge the complaint. The following morning, he was found in a
state of unconsciousness and sent to the hospital where he died
within eight hours without coming to himself again. A post-mortem revealed ten broken ribs, bruises all over his body,
and haemorrhage of the brain.

Thecourt sentenced Shelemetyev, Shulpin, and Shibayev to four
years’ penal servitude, and Olkhovin and Panov to one month’s detention , finding them guilty only of
“insulting behaviour.”...

Withthis sentence we shall commence our examination of the
case. Those sentenced to penal servitude were charged according
to Articles 346 and 1490, Part II, of the Penal Code. The first
of these articles provides that an official inflicting wounds or
injuries in the exercise of his duties is liable to the maximum
penalty reserved “for the perpetration of such a crime.” Article 1490, Part II, provides for a penalty of
from eight to ten years’ penal servitude for inflicting torture
resulting in death. Instead of inflicting the maximum penalty , the court, consisting of representatives of the
social-estates and crown judges, reduced the sentence by two degrees (sixth degree, eight to ten years of
penal servitude; seventh degree, four to six years), i.e., it
made the maximum reduction of sentence permitted by the law in
cases of extenuating circumstances, and, moreover, imposed the
minimum penalty of that low degree. In a word, the court did all it could to let the culprits off as lightly as
possible; in fact, it did more than it could, because it evaded
the law concerning the “maximum penalty.” Of course, we do not wish to assert that “supreme justice”
demanded precisely ten and not four years’ penal servitude; the
essential point is that the murderers were declared to be
murderers and that they were sentenced to penal servitude. But
we cannot refrain from noting a tendency characteristic of the
court of crown judges and representatives of the estates; when
they try a police official, they are ready to display the
greatest clemency, but when they sit in judgment over an act
committed against the police, as is well known, they display
inexorable severity. [1]

Witha police sergeant before it, how could the court refuse him
clemency? He had met Vozdukhov as he was brought in and
apparently had ordered him to be placed, not in a common cell,
but first, in order to teach him a lesson, in the soldiers’
lock-up. He took part in the assault, using his fists and a book
(no doubt a copy of the Penal Laws); he gave orders to have all
traces of the crime removed (to wipe away the blood). On the
night of April 20 he reported to the inspector, Mukhanov, upon
his return, “everything in order at the station in his charge” (his exact words!)—but he had nothing to do with
the murderers, he was only guilty of an insulting act, just
insulting behaviour, punishable by detention. Quite naturally,
this gentleman, Mr. Panov, innocent of murder, is still in the
police service occupying the post of a village police sergeant. Mr. Panov has merely transferred his useful directing
activities in “teaching lessons” to the common people from the town to the country. Now, reader, tell us in all
conscience, can Sergeant Panov understand the sentence of the
court to mean anything else than advice in the future to remove
the traces of a crime more thoroughly, to “teach” in such a manner as to leave no trace? You did right in ordering
the blood to be wiped from the face of the dying man, but you
allowed him to die. That, pal, was careless. In the future be
more careful and never forget the first and last commandment of
the Russian

Derzhimorda  [6] : “Beat—but not to death!”

Fromthe ordinary human point of view, the sentence Panov drew
was a mockery of justice. It reveals a cringing, servile spirit,
an attempt to throw the whole blame upon the minor police
officers and to shield their immediate chief with whose
knowledge, approval, and participation this brutal crime was
committed. From the juridical point of view, the sentence is an
example of the casuistry resorted to by bureaucratic judges who
are themselves not far removed from police sergeants. Speech was
given to man to conceal his thoughts, say the diplomats. Our
jurists may say that the law is given to distort the concepts of
guilt and responsibility. Indeed, what refined juridical art is
required to be able to reduce complicity in torture to simple
insulting behaviour! Panov was guilty of an offence equal in
gravity to that perhaps committed by a factory hand who possibly
on the morning of April 20 mischievously struck Vozdukhov’s cap
off his head! In fact, milder than that: it was not an offence
but merely an infringement. Even participation in a brawl (let
alone the brutal assault upon a helpless man), if it results in
a fatality, is liable to a severer punishment than that meted
out to the police sergeant. Legal chicanery took advantage of
the fact that the law provides for various degrees of punishment
for inflicting injuries in the exercise of official duties and
allows the court the discretion to pronounce sentences ranging
from two months’ imprisonment to permanent banishment to
Siberia, according to the circumstances of the case. Of course,
it is quite a rational rule not to bind a judge to strictly
formal definitions, but to allow him certain latitude. Our
professors of criminal law have often praised Russian legislation for this and have emphasised its liberal
character. However, in praising our law, they lose sight of one
trifle, namely, that, for rational laws to be applied, it is
necessary to have judges who are not reduced to the role of mere
officials, that it is necessary to have representatives of the
public in the court, and for public opinion to play its part in
the examination of cases. Secondly, the assistant public
prosecutor came to the aid of the court by withdrawing the charge against Panov (and
Olkhovin) of torture and cruelty and pleading only for a
sentence for insulting behaviour. In his plea, the assistant
prosecutor called expert evidence to prove that the blows
inflicted by Panov were neither numerous nor painful. As you
see, the juridical sophistry is not very ingenious: since Panov
did less beating than the others, it may be argued that his punches were not very
painful, and since they were not very painful, it may be argued that his offence was not
“torture and cruelty”; and since it was not torture and cruelty, then it was merely insulting behaviour. All this
works out to everybody’s satisfaction, and Mr. Panov remains in
the ranks of the guardians of law and order.... [2]

Wehave just referred to the participation of representatives of
the public in court trials, and to the part that should be
played by public opinion. The case in point is an excellent
illustration. In the first place, why was this case tried, not
by a jury, but by a court of crown judges and representatives of
the estates? Because the government of Alexander III, having
declared ruthless war upon every public aspiration towards
liberty and independence, very soon found that trial by jury was
dangerous. The reactionary press declared trial by jury to be
“trial by the street,” and launched against it a campaign which, be it said in passing, continues to this
day. The government adopted a reactionary programme. Having
crushed the revolutionary movement of the seventies, it
insolently declared to the representatives of the people that it
regarded them as the “street,” the mob, which must not interfere in the work of legislation, let alone interfere in the
administration of the state, and which must be driven from the
sanctuary where Russian citizens are tried and punished
according to the Panov method. In 1887 a law was passed removing
crimes committed by and against officials from the jurisdiction
of courts sitting with a jury and transferring them to courts of
crown judges and representatives of the estates. It is well
known that these representatives of the estates, merged into a
single collegium with the bureaucratic judges, are mute
super-numeraries playing the miserable role of witnesses ready
to say yes to everything the officials of the Department of
Justice decide. This is one of a long series of laws adopted
during the latest reactionary period of Russian history and
having one single tendency in common: to re-establish a
“sound authority.” Under the pressure of circumstances, the government in the latter half of the
nineteenth century was compelled to come into contact with the
“street”; but the character of the street changed with astonishing rapidity and the ignorant inhabitants gave place to
citizens who were beginning to understand their rights and who
were capable even of producing the champions of their rights. Realising this, the government drew back in horror, and
is now making convulsive efforts to surround itself by a Chinese
Wall, to immure itself in a fortress into which no manifestations of independent public action can penetrate....
But I have strayed somewhat from my subject.

Thanksto the reactionary law, the street was deprived of the
right to try representatives of the government. Officials have
been tried by officials. This has affected, not only the
sentence passed by the court, but also the character of the
preliminary investigation and the trial. Trial by the street is
valuable because it breathes a living spirit into the bureaucratic formalism which pervades our government
institutions. The street is interested, not only, and not so
much, in the definition of the given offence (insulting
behaviour, assault, torture), or in the category of punishment
to be imposed; it is interested in exposing thoroughly and
bringing to public light the significance and all the social and
political threads of the crime in order to draw lessons in
public morals and practical politics from the trial. The street
does not want to see in the court “an official institution,” in which functionaries apply to given cases
the corresponding articles of the Penal Code, but a public
institution which exposes the ulcers of the present system,
which provides material for criticising it and, consequently,
for improving it. Impelled by its practical knowledge of public
affairs and by the growth of political consciousness, the street
is discovering the truth for which our official, professorial
jurisprudence, weighed down by its scholastic shackles, is
groping with such difficulty and timidity—namely, that in the
fight against crime the reform of social and political institutions is much more important than the imposition of
punishment. For this reason the reactionary publicists and the
reactionary government hate, and cannot help hating, trial by
the street. For this reason the curtailments put on the
competency of jury courts and the restrictions on publicity run
like a scarlet thread throughout the whole of the post-Reform
history of Russia; indeed, the reactionary character of the
“post-Reform” epoch was exposed immediately after the law of 1864, reforming our “judicature,”
came into force. [3]

The absence of “trial by the street” was markedly felt in this particular case. Who in the court that tried this case
could have been interested in its social aspect, and who would
have sought to bring it out prominently? The public prosecutor?
The official who is closely connected with the police, who
shares responsibility for the detention of prisoners and the
manner in which they are treated, who, in certain cases, is
actually the chief of police? We have seen that the assistant
prosecutor even withdrew the charge of torture against
Panov. The civil plaintiff—in the event that Vozdukhova, the
widow of the murdered man and a witness at the trial, had put in
a civil claim against the murderers? But how was this simple
woman to know that it was permissible to bring a civil claim for
damages before a criminal court? But even had she known it,
would she have been able to retain a lawyer? And even had she
been able to do so, could a lawyer have been found who was
willing to call public attention to the state of affairs brought
to light by this murder? And even if such a lawyer had been
found, would his ”civic zeal” have been supported by such
“delegates” of the public as the representatives of the social-estates? Picture to yourself a rural district elder—
I have in mind a provincial court—embarrassed in his rustic
clothes, not knowing what to do with his rough, peasant hands,
awkwardly trying to conceal his feet encased in greased
top-boots, gazing with awe upon His Excellency, the president of
the court, who is seated on the same bench with him. Or imagine
a city mayor, a fat merchant, breathing heavily in his unaccustomed livery, with his chain of office round his neck,
trying to ape his neighbour, a Marshal of the Nobility, a
gentleman in a nobleman’s uniform, who looks sleek and well
tended, with aristocratic manners. By his side are judges, men
who have gone through the hard grind of the school of bureaucracy, genuine functionaries who have grown grey in the
service and are filled with a consciousness of the importance of
the duty they have to fulfill—to try representatives of the
authorities whom the street is not worthy to try. Would not this
scene dampen the ardour of the most eloquent lawyer? Would it
not remind him of the ancient aphorism: “neither cast ye
your pearls before...”?

Andso it happened that the case was rushed through at express
speed, as if all concerned were eager to get it off their hands
as quickly as possible, [4] as if they feared to rake too thoroughly in the muck; one may
get accustomed to living near a cesspool and not notice the foul
odours emanating from it, but as soon as an attempt is made to
cleanse it, the stench assails the nostrils, not only of the
inhabitants of the particular street, but also of those of the
neighbouring streets.

Justthink of the number of questions that naturally arise and
that no one has taken the trouble to clear up! Why did Vozdukhov
go to the Governor? The indictment—the document which embodied the effort of the prosecuting authorities to disclose
the crime—not only failed to reply to this question, but
deliberately obscured it with the statement that Vozdukhov
“was detained in a state of intoxication in the courtyard
of the Governor’s house by policeman Shelemetyev.” It even
gives ground for the assumption that Vozdukhov was brawling—
and where do you think? In the courtyard of the Governor’s
house! In actuality, Vozdukhov drove up to the Governor’s house in a cab in order to lodge a complaint —this fact was established. What did he go
to complain about? Ptitsyn, the superintendent of the Governor’s
house, stated that Vozdukhov had complained about the refusal of
a steamship booking office to sell him a ticket (?). The witness
Mukhanov, formerly inspector of the station in which Vozdukhov
was assaulted (and now governor of the provincial prison in
Vladimir), stated that he had heard from Vozdukhov’s wife that
she and her husband had been drinking and that in Nizhni they had been beaten up in the river police-station and in the Rozhdestvensky police-station, and that Vozdukhov had gone to the Governor to complain about this . Notwithstanding the fact that the witnesses
obviously contradicted each other, the court did not make the
slightest attempt to clear up the matter. On the contrary, one
has every reason to conclude that the court did not wish to clear up the matter. Vozdukhov’s wife gave
evidence at the trial, but no one took the trouble to ask her
whether she and her husband had really been assaulted in several
Nizhni police-stations, under what circumstances they had been
arrested, in what premises they had been assaulted, and by whom,
whether her husband had really wished to complain to the
Governor, and whether he had mentioned his intention to any one
else. Most likely the witness Ptitsyn, an official in the
Governor’s office, was not inclined to accept complaints from
Vozdukhov—who was not drunk, but whom, nevertheless, it was
necessary to make sober!—against the police and ordered the
intoxicated police-man Shelemetyev to take the complainant to the police-station to be sobered up. But this
interesting witness was not cross-examined. The cabby, Krainov,
who had driven Vozdukhov to the Governor’s house and subsequently to the police-station, was not questioned as to
whether Vozdukhov had told him why he was going to the Governor,
as to what he had said to Ptitsyn, and whether anybody else had
heard the conversation. The court was satisfied merely to hear
the brief written affidavit of Krainov (who did not appear in
court) which testified that Vozdukhov had not been drunk, but
only slightly intoxicated, and the assistant prosecutor had not
even taken the trouble to subpoena this important witness. If we
bear in mind that Vozdukhov, a sergeant in the army reserve and
consequently a man of experience who must have known something
about law and order, had said even after the last fatal blows,
“I am going to lodge a complaint,” it appears more than likely that he went to the Governor to lodge a complaint
against the police, that Ptitsyn lied to shield the police and
that the servile judges and the servile prosecutor did not wish
to bring this delicate story to light.

Further,why was Vozdukhov beaten? Again the indictment presents
the case in a manner most favourable ... to the accused. The
“motive for the torture,” it is alleged, was the cutting of Shelemetyev’s hand when he pushed Vozdukhov into the
soldiers’ lock-up. The question arises, why was Vozdukhov, who
spoke calmly both with Shelemetyev and with Panov, pushed
(assuming that it was really necessary to push him!), not into the common cell, but
first into the soldiers’ lock-up? He had been brought to the
station to be sobered up—there were already a number of
drunkards in the common cell, and later on Vozdukhov was put
into the common cell; why, then, did Shelemetyev, after
“introducing” him to Panov, push him into the soldiers’ lock-up? Evidently for the
purpose of beating him. In the common cell there were a number
of people, whereas in the soldiers’ lock-up Vozdukhov would be
alone, and Shelemetyev could call to his aid his comrades and
Mr. Panov, who was “in charge” of Police-Station No. 1 at the time. Consequently, the torture was inflicted, not for
some chance reason, but deliberately and with forethought. We
can assume one of two things—either that all who are taken to
the police-station for sobering up (even when they behave
themselves decently and quietly) are first put into the
soldiers’ lock-up to be “taught a lesson,” or that
Vozdukhov was put in there precisely for the reason that he had gone to the Governor to lodge a complaint against the police . The newspaper reports of the trial are so
brief that one hesitates to express oneself categorically in
favour of the second hypothesis (which is not at all improbable); but the preliminary investigation and the court
examination could have cleared this point up beyond any
doubt. It stands to reason that the court did not pay any
attention whatever to this. I say “it stands to reason,” because the indifference of the court reflects not
only bureaucratic formalism, but the simple point of view of the
Russian man in the street. “What is there to make a fuss
about? A drunken muzhik was killed in a police-station! Worse
things than that happen!” And the man in the street begins
to relate scores of incomparably more revolting cases, in which
the culprits have gone scot-free. The remarks of the man in the
street are absolutely just; nevertheless, his attitude is
absolutely wrong and by his arguments he merely reveals his
extreme, philistine short-sightedness. Are not incomparably more
revolting cases of police tyranny possible in our country only
because this tyranny is the common, everyday practice in every
police-station? And is not our indignation impotent against
these exceptional cases because we, with customary indifference,
tolerate the “normal” cases; because our indifference remains unperturbed, even when a customary practice like an
assault upon a drunken (or allegedly drunken) “muzhik” in a police-station rouses the protest of this very muzhik (who
ought to be accustomed to this sort of thing), of this very
muzhik, who paid with his life for his most impertinent attempt
to submit a humble petition to the Governor?

Thereis another reason why we must not ignore this all too
common case. It has long been held that the preventive significance of punishment is not in its severity, but in its
inevitableness. What is important is not that a crime shall be
severely punished, but that not a single crime shall pass undiscovered. From this aspect, too, the
present case is of interest. Illegal and savage assault is
committed in police-stations in the Russian Empire—it may be
said without exaggeration-daily and hourly, [5] and only rare and very exceptional cases are brought up in
court. This is not in the least surprising, since the criminals
are the very police who in Russia are charged with the duty of
disclosing crime. These circumstances compel us to devote all
the greater, if unusual, attention to those cases in which the
courts are constrained to raise the curtain that conceals such
habitual facts.

Note,for example, how the police perpetrate their assault. Five
or six of them together set upon their victim with brutal
cruelty, many of them are drunk, all are armed with swords. But
not one of them ever strikes the victim with his sword. They are
men of experience and they know how to beat a man up. A sword
blow leaves a mark of guilt, but try and prove that bruises made
by fists were inflicted by the police! “Arrested during a
brawl in which he was beaten up,”—and your case isn’t worth a straw. Even in the present instance, when the man, as
it happened, was beaten to death (“the devil tempted him to
die, a hefty muzhik like that! Who would have thought it!”), the prosecution was obliged to bring witnesses to
testify that “Vozdukhov was absolutely sound in health before he was taken to the police-station.” Apparently, the
murderers, who maintained throughout the trial that they had not
beaten the man, stated that they had brought him to the station
in a battered condition. It is an extremely difficult matter to
get witnesses to give evidence in a case like this. By a happy
chance, the window between the common cell and the soldiers’
lock-up was not completely curtained off. True, instead of glass
the panes consisted of sheets of tin with holes punched through,
and on the side of the soldiers’ lock-up these holes were
covered up by a leather curtain. By poking a finger through a
hole, one could raise the curtain and see what was going on in
the soldiers’ lock-up. Only through this circumstance was it
possible at the trial to obtain a picture of the scene of the
“lesson.” But such negligence as improperly curtained windows could exist only in the past century. In the twentieth
century, the little window between the common cell and soldiers’
lock-up in the Kremlin district Police-Station No. 1 in
Nizhni-Novgorod is no doubt blocked up.... And since there are
no witnesses, woe betide the poor fellow who finds himself in
the soldiers’ lock-up!

Inno country in the world is there such a multitude of laws as
in Russia. We have laws for everything. There are special
regulations governing detention in custody, which specifically
state that detention is legally permissible only in special
premises, subject to special supervision. As you see, the law is
observed. In the police-station, there is a special “common
cell.” But before a man is put into the common cell, it is “customary” to
“shove” him into the soldiers’ lock-up. Although the role of the soldiers’ lock-up as a real torture chamber was
perfectly clear throughout the trial, the judicial authorities
did not even think of paying the matter the slightest attention.
Surely, the prosecuting attorney cannot be expected to expose the excesses of our brutal police and to take measures against
them!

Wehave referred to the question of witnesses in a case of this
kind. At best, such witnesses can only be persons in the hands
of the police. Only under the most exceptional circumstances
would it be possible for an outsider to witness a police
“lesson” given in a police-station. But it is possible for the police to influence the witnesses that are in their
hands. And this is what happened in the present case. The
witness Frolov, who at the time of the murder was in the common
cell, stated during the preliminary investigation that Vozdukhov
had been assaulted by the policemen and the sergeant; later he
withdrew his testimony against Sergeant Panov; at the trial,
however, he stated that none of the policemen had struck
Vozdukhov, that he had been persuaded to give evidence against
the police by Semakhin and Barinov (two other men in the common
cell who were the principal witnesses for the prosecution), and
that the police had not persuaded or prompted him to say this.
The witnesses Fadeyev and Antonova stated that no one had laid a
finger on Vozdukhov in the soldiers’ lock-up, that everything
had been quiet there and no quarrelling had taken place.

Asis to be seen, quite the usual thing happened. And the
judicial authorities behaved with customary indifference. There
is a law that provides severe penalties for perjury. A prosecution instituted against the two perjurers would throw
further light on the outrages the police perpetrate against
those who have the misfortune to fall into their hands and are
almost completely defenceless (hundreds of thousands of the
“common” people meet with such misfortune every day). But all that the court is concerned about is applying this
or that article of the Penal Code; it is not in the least
concerned about that defencelessness. This detail in the trial,
like all the others, showed clearly how strong and all-entangling is the net, how persistent the canker, which can
only be removed by abolishing the whole system of police tyranny
and denial of the people’s rights.

Aboutthirty-five years ago, F. M. Reshetnikov, a well-known
Russian writer, met with an unpleasant adventure.

One evening he went to the Assembly of Nobles in St. Petersburg under the
mistaken impression that a concert was to he given there. The
policeman at the door barred his way and shouted at him:
“What’s the shoving? Who are you?” “A factory hand,” roughly replied Reshetnikov, stung to anger by this
affront. What followed this reply, as related by Gleb Uspensky,
was that Reshetnikov spent the night in the police-station, from
which he emerged bruised and battered, bereft of his money and
his ring. “I report this matter to Your Excellency,” wrote Reshetnikov in a petition to the St. Petersburg Chief of
Police. “ I seek no compensation. May I only humbly trouble you with the request that the police officers and their
subordinates shall not beat the people....
As it is, the people have only sufferings in store for them.” [7]

Themodest request which a Russian writer was bold enough to
make to the chief of police of the capital so long ago has not
yet been fulfilled and it cannot be fulfilled so long as the present political system
lasts. At the present time, however, every honest man who is
tormented by the contemplation of this brutality and violence
turns towards the great new movement among the people that is
mustering its forces in order to wipe all brutality from the
face of the land of Russia and to achieve mankind’s finest
ideals. During recent decades, hatred for the police has grown
immensely and has become deep-rooted in the hearts of the masses
of the common people. The development of urban life, the growth
of industry, the spread of literacy, have all served to imbue
even the uneducated masses with aspirations for a better life
and a consciousness of their human dignity; the police, however,
have remained as tyrannical and brutal as ever. To their
bestiality we now see added a greater subtlety in the detection
and persecution of the new, most dangerous enemy, i.e.,
everything that brings to the masses of the people a ray of
consciousness of their rights and confidence in their strength. Fertilised by this consciousness and this confidence,
popular hatred will find vent, not in savage vengeance, but in
the struggle for liberty.

---
Notes:
[1]
In passing, we shall adduce another fact indicating the
punishments imposed by our courts for various crimes. A few
days after the Vozdukhov murder trial, the Moscow District
Military Tribunal tried a private in the local artillery
brigade for stealing fifty pairs of trousers and a few pairs
of boots, while on guard duty in the storeroom. The sentence
was four years’ penal servitude. A human life entrusted to the police is equal in value to
fifty pairs of trousers and a few pairs of boots entrusted
to a sentry. In this peculiar “equation” the whole of our police state system is reflected as the sun is
reflected in a drop of water. The individual against state
power is nothing. Discipline within the state power is everything... pardon me, “everything” only for the
small fry. A petty thief is sentenced to penal servitude,
but the big thieves, the magnates, cabinet ministers, bank
directors, builders of railways, engineers, contracts, etc.,
who plunder the Treasury of property valued at tens and
hundreds of thousands of rubles are punished only on very
rare occasions, and at the worst are banished to remote
provinces where they may live at ease on their loot (the
bank thieves in Western Siberia), and from where it is easy
to escape across the frontier (Colonel of Gendermes
Meranville de Saint-Clair).
— Lenin

[2]
In Russia, instead of exposing the outrage in all its horror
before the court and the public, they prefer to hush up the
case in court and do nothing more than send out circular
letters and orders full of pompous but meaningless phrases. For instance, a few days ago the Orel Chief of
Police issued an order which, confirming previous orders,
instructs the local police inspectors to impress upon subordinates, personally and through their assistants, that
they must refrain from roughness and violence in handling
drunkards in the streets and when taking them to the police-station to sober up. The order further specifies that
police officers must explain to their subordinates that it
is the duty of the police to protect drunkards who cannot be
left alone with obvious danger to themselves; that subordinate police officers, whom the law has placed in the
position of first protectors and guardians of citizens,
must, therefore, in taking drunkards into custody, not only
refrain from treating them roughly and inhumanly, but must
do all they can to protect them until they have become sober. The order warns subordinate police officials that
only by such conscientious and lawful exercise of their
duties will they earn the confidence and respect of the
population, and that if, on the contrary, police officials
treat drunkards harshly and cruelly, or resort to violent
conduct incompatible with the duty of a police officer, who
should serve as a model of respectability and good morals,
they will be punished with all the vigour of the law and any
subordinate police officer guilty of such conduct will be
rigorously prosecuted. A capital idea for a cartoon in a
satirical journal—a police sergeant, acquitted of the charge of murder, reading an order that he must serve as a
model of respectability and good morals!
— Lenin

[3]
In their polemics in the legal press against the reactionaries, the liberal advocates of trial by jury often
categorically deny its political significance and endeavour
to show that they favour participation of public representatives in the courts for reasons other than
political. This may partly be explained by the lack of ability on the part of our jurists to think politically to a
logical conclusion, notwithstanding their specialisation in
“political” science. But, chiefly, it is to be explained by the necessity to speak in Aesopean language, by
the impossibility openly to declare their sympathies for a
constitution.
— Lenin

[4]
No one, however, thought of bringing the case to trial quickly. Despite the fact that the case was remarkably
clear and simple, it was not tried until January 23, 1901,
although the crime had been committed on April 20, 1899. A
speedy , just, and merciful trial!
— Lenin

[5]
These lines were already written when the press brought
another confirmation of the correctness of this assertion. At the other end of Russia, in Odessa—a city
enjoying the status of a capital—a magistrate acquitted a
certain M. Klinkov who had been charged by Station Sergeant
Sadukov with disorderly conduct while under arrest in the
police-station. At the trial, the accused and his four witnesses testified to the following: Sadukov arrested M.
Klinkov, who was in a state of drunkenness, and took him to
the police-station. When he became sober, Klinkov demanded
to be released, upon which a policeman grabbed him by the
collar and began to punch him. Three other police-men arrived on the scene, and the four of them fell upon him,
striking him in the face, on the head, the chest, and the
sides. Under the rain of blows and covered with blood, Klinkov fell to the floor, whereupon the policemen assaulted
him with even greater fury. According to the evidence of
Klinkov and his witnesses, this torture was inflicted at the
instigation and with the encouragement of Sadukov. As a
result of the blows he received, Klinkov lost consciousness. On reviving, he was released from the
police-station. Immediately on his release he went to be
examined by a physician. The magistrate advised Klinkov to
lodge a complaint with the prosecutor against Sadukov and
the policemen, to which Kinkov replied that he had already
done so and that he would bring twenty witnesses.

Oneneed not be a prophet to foretell that M. Klinkov will
fail to get the policemen brought to trial and punished for
torture. They did not actually beat him to death; but if,
contrary to expectation, they are prosecuted, they are sure
to get off lightly.
— Lenin

[6]
Derzhimorda —the name of the policeman in N. V. Gogol’s comedy
The Inspector-General ; a boorish, insolent oppressor, a man of
violence.

[7]
Lenin quotes from Gleb Uspensky’s “Fyodor Mikhailovich Reshetnikov.”