Old Believers in a Changing World

Old Believers in a Changing World

Robert O. Crummey

Northern Illinois University Press DeKalb

© 2011 by Northern Illinois University Press

Published by the Northern Illinois University Press, DeKalb, Illinois 60115

Manufactured in the United States using postconsumer-recycled, acid-free paper.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Crummey, Robert O.

Old Believers in a changing world / Robert O. Crummey.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-0-87580-650-1 (clothbound : alk. paper)

1. Old Believers. I. Title.

BX601.C79 2011

281.9’47ódc22

2010053495

The Chronologic History of the Chapters (p. 265) provides both the history of and the permissions for the chapters in this volume.

Contents

Preface

Historiography and Theory

1—Past and Current Interpretations of the Old Belief

2—Old Belief as Popular Religion

New Approaches

Seventeenth-Century Origins

3—Ecclesiastical Elites and Popular Belief and Practice in Seventeenth-Century Russia

4—Religious Radicalism in Seventeenth-Century Russia

Reexamining the Kapiton Movement

5—The Origins of the Old Believer Cultural Systems

The Works of Avraamii

6—The Miracle of Martyrdom

Reflections on Early Old Believer Hagiography

Eighteenth- and Nineteenth-Century Communities

7—Old Believer Communities

Ideals and Structures

8—The Spirituality of the Vyg Fathers

9—The Historical Framework of the Vyg Fathers

10—The Cultural Worlds of Andrei Borisov

11—Interpreting the Fate of Old Believer Communities in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries

Old Believer Life and Scholarship in the Late Twentieth Century

12—The Novosibirsk School of Old Believer Studies

Afterword 190

Abbreviations

Notes to Chapter One

Notes to Chapter Two

Notes to Chapter Three

Notes to Chapter Four

Notes to Chapter Five

Notes to Chapter Six

Notes to Chapter Seven

Notes to Chapter Eight

Notes to Chapter Nine

Notes to Chapter Ten

Notes to Chapter Eleven

Notes to Chapter Twelve

Selected Bibliography

Index

Chronological History of the Chapters

Preface

Old Belief is a conservative offshoot of the Russian Orthodox Church. It began in the mid-seventeenth century in opposition to Patriarch Nikon’s reforms of the liturgy and, over the following centuries, grew into a complex movement with many branches or accords, with widely differing forms of worship and conduct. In spite of their diversity, however, the Old Believers share the conviction that they are the last genuine Eastern Orthodox Christians on earth. Since they share the common Orthodox assumption that Western Christendom has fallen into error, they believe, by extension, that they must be the only remaining defenders of true Christianity.

Living as the Faithful Remnant is an enormous burden, for the adherents of the true faith must never waver in their convictions or fall into heresy. Because the stakes are so high, the Old Believers have conducted the debates among themselves and handled their confrontations with the officially sanctioned Russian Orthodox Church with profound determination, rigidity, bitterness, and at times outright fanaticism. The last defenders of the true faith must also separate themselves from the perishing world around them. Over the course of their history, Old Believers have set themselves apart by maintaining a radically distinct way of life. How they have done so has varied from one time and place to another. Nevertheless, each accord or local community has maintained customs and taboos that separate them from their non–Old Believer neighbors and often from one another. At the same time, they must take into account the changing world around them. Thus, disputes about appropriate personal grooming, dress, diet, and responses to modern technology are an ongoing feature of Old Believer life.

Most important of all, the Old Believers’ conviction that they are the last defenders of authentic Christian faith leads inexorably to the conclusion that the End of the World is at hand. All Old Believers have shared a common apocalyptic language and lived with expectations of the End Time even though they have argued endlessly about the details. Some of them have found comfort in interpreting catastrophic events, from the Petrine reforms to the collectivization of agriculture in Soviet times, as the works of the Antichrist. The chapters that follow will examine these themes in greater detail.

How and why did a historian who is neither Russian nor Eastern Orthodox by background come to study the Old Believers? For, although I am a practicing Christian in the Western tradition and a lover of liturgy, I have always been a quintessential outsider in the Old Believers’ world, and I admit, many features of all branches of Eastern Orthodoxy still seem exotic to me.

First, there were the intellectual attractions. For a historian of Russia, study of Old Belief is a gateway to many questions that scholars of religious movements in all societies must address. I will mention only a few obvious examples. As is already clear, the Old Believers are an excellent example of a religious community whose members believe that they are living in apocalyptic times. Moreover, their history provides an opportunity to explore the relationship between elite and popular belief and practice. To what extent do established religious and political authorities create and lead movements of revival, reform, or opposition? Or to what extent do such movements reflect first and foremost the discontents—spiritual, political, or social—of ordinary believers? As many historians of religious movements are discovering, any neat distinction between the beliefs, practices, and aspirations of the members of political and religious elites and those of ordinary men and women is very difficult to maintain. In addition, when a movement defines itself in part by the study and dissemination of a canon of religious writings, one is entitled to ask how these texts spread, how believers are trained to read or hear them, and what their contents might mean to the highly educated and the unlettered. In a word, Old Belief is an excellent example of the evolution of a textual community.

Moreover, there were personal reasons for my decision that require some brief autobiographical comments to explain. Throughout my adult life I have had a deep interest in the Christian church and other religious organizations and their interactions with the larger community. In the graduate program at the University of Chicago, Leo Haimson’s brilliant teaching convinced me to concentrate on Russian history. Then, when the time came to choose a dissertation topic, the late Oswald P. Backus urged me to study the church schism of the mid-seventeenth century and encouraged me to make Helsinki my research base since, for a citizen of Canada, there was no opportunity at that time to spend a year on an academic exchange in the USSR. When Michael Cherniavsky joined the faculty at Chicago and became my dissertation adviser, the Old Believers became the focus of my research.

To a remarkable degree, my mentors’ advice bore fruit. While based in Helsinki, I spent two months early in 1963 as a tourist in Leningrad and met the legendary scholar of Old Belief, Vladimir Ivanovich Malyshev. I no longer remember who provided the introduction to him. Even more mysterious are the reasons he was willing to provide protection and support to a confused and unfocused foreign graduate student with a weak command of Russian. Perhaps, in addition to his innate generosity of spirit, it was his knowledge that only foreign scholars could, in that time, publish work on the Old Belief as such. Whatever the reason, doors opened as if by magic. Access to the archival collections controlled by the Academy of Sciences, which could be granted locally, allowed me to study many of the fundamental sources on the Vyg community, the focus of my dissertation and subsequent book, The Old Believers and the World of Antichrist. If I can paste a label on my initial approach and methodology in studying Old Belief, it is sociology of religion. While well aware of the cultural leadership of Vyg within the empire-wide networks of Old Believers, I concentrated on the structure of the community, its economic activities, and its complex relations with the imperial government.

Once I had completed the dissertation, I began the time-honored practice of turning it into a book. But as I worked on revising the manuscript, I became aware of tension between my own historical instincts and personal values and the approach of my mentor, Cherniavsky, whose best work, in my opinion, is his brilliant article on the Old Believers’ political theology in the reign of Peter I. On a personal level, my relationship with Cherniavsky was cordial, especially during the period when we were both in Leningrad working in the same archival collections, where he concentrated on the Old Believers’ political iconography and I focused on their monastic rules. Rather, my concerns lay not in his analysis of their political ideals and symbols but in his broader approach to the history of religious movements. The then-popular cocktail of Marxist and Freudian approaches to the study of history seemed to me to have led to two basic assumptions about the Old Believers—and other religious groups—that troubled me. Under the first, it was incumbent on a twentieth-century scholar to look for the overt or hidden political and social messages in religious texts rather than the theological and liturgical arguments to which the authors of the texts devoted the greatest attention. From this perspective, the fact that many Old Believers were convinced that Peter I was the Antichrist is highly significant, but the thousands of pages devoted to the two-finger sign of the cross and the other details of the Nikonian reforms are not. Similarly, the thinking went, since twentieth-century historians cannot possibly immerse themselves in the worldview of religious believers of an earlier time, they should concentrate on applying the concepts of their own day to make the subjects of their studies comprehensible to their contemporaries. I had no trouble agreeing that I could not possibly enter the minds and hearts of seventeenth-century Russian dissenters. Still, I owed them the respect of taking their arguments and decisions with complete seriousness and trying to understand them in their own terms.

As work on The Old Believers and the World of Antichrist came to an end, my research interests turned in a completely different direction. As a reader and teacher of Russian history, I came to understand how much recent studies of the ruling elite in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries had led to a thorough reevaluation of the workings of the Muscovite political system. For that reason, I joined the growing ranks of practitioners of collective biography (prosopographers) by undertaking a detailed study of the men who made up the boyar elite in the seventeenth century. Nevertheless, Malyshev and the Old Believers were not finished with me yet. While I was based in Moscow in 1969 on the newly established University of Toronto exchange program, a short research trip to Leningrad allowed me to study additional documents on the Vyg community. It also produced Vladimir Ivanovich’s ultimate act of magic. He gently but firmly ordered me to go to Riga to visit the Grebenshchikovskaia Obshchina, one of the largest centers of priestless Old Belief in the USSR, and meet the legendary Ivan Nikiforovich Zavoloko. Over my protests that the notoriously unhelpful Foreign Students’ Office of Leningrad University would never provide the paperwork, he simply told me to report there the following day. Somehow within twenty-four hours everything had been arranged!

My three days in Riga were among the highlights of my life. Zavoloko welcomed me with open arms. In the midsummer sun, I sat for three days at a small table in his garden reading manuscripts from his personal collection. The prize for me was an early eighteenth-century autograph copy of the Vyg rule (now in Pushkin House in St. Petersburg with the catalogue designation Zavoloko Collection number 3). As I took notes, he took care of my every need. He also gave me a few glimpses into his extraordinary life and difficult current circumstances—poverty and disability (he had lost a leg to gangrene in the Gulag)—which he regarded as conditions that would in no way limit his efforts to practice his faith and preserve the Old Believer tradition.

In 1983, after thirteen years of official Muscovite service registers, index cards, and computer printouts, Aristocrats and Servitors, the book on the boyar elite in seventeenth-century Russia, finally appeared in print. It was time for a change!

The Old Believers beckoned. Looking back on the Vyg project, the comments of two distinguished colleagues haunted me. In a kind and favorable review of The Old Believers and the World of Antichrist, Marc Raeff gently pointed out that the book had all but omitted the most significant accomplishment of Vyg, its leaders’ creation and dissemination of a distinct Old Believer literary and artistic culture. Later, in a brief conversation, A. I. Klibanov expressed his dismay at my decision to do research on the ruling elite and his regret that I was abandoning study of the spiritual treasures of the Russian people.

Moreover, the time was ripe. The so-called new cultural history called for historians to read familiar sources from new perspectives and to unearth new ones in order to deepen our understanding of the things that historical figures—including the marginal and obscure—said, wrote, and did. The essays in this book are the results of my attempt to apply this approach to the Old Believers.

Fortunately, like all historians I know, I am a pack rat. As a starting point, I still had the notes, photocopies, and rare editions from the Vyg project. In addition, in spite of the pressure of other commitments, I was able to spend January and February of 1991 in Leningrad. Work in all of the major collections of Old Believer manuscripts in the city blended almost seamlessly with the daily news broadcasts of political conflict and violence as the USSR began to fall apart. As we all juggled manuscripts and politics, I profited from the learning and enjoyed the friendship of Gleb Merkulov, Aleksandr Bobrov, and the late Aleksandr Amosov. At the turn of the 1980s and 1990s, I also made very short visits to Moscow, Novosibirsk, and Petrozavodsk. In retrospect, the importance of these trips lay in new or renewed contact with fellow Old Believer scholars, two of whom—Natal’ia Sergeevna Gur’ianova and Elena Mikhailovna Iukhimenko—have supported me in many ways. Without their advice and encouragement, including their copies of previously unknown texts that were crucial to my work, several of these essays could not have been written.

The purpose of this book, then, is to bring together a collection of scattered articles on the cultural history of the Old Believers into a single volume. Doing so is a long-established tradition of scholars late in their careers. Thanks, however, to modern word processing techniques, all of the articles have been printed in a consistent format. Two items, the comparative analysis of Old Believer communities (chapter 7) and the study of the Novosibirsk school of Old Believer studies (chapter 12) have never been published, nor have this Preface and the Afterword.

The reader should be aware that the chapters were originally published over a period of eighteen years. Most began life as conference papers. One (chapter 9) was originally published in Russian and appears for the first time in English. Moreover, in this book, the chapters appear in thematic order, not in the chronological sequence in which they were written. In order to avoid confusion, I have added to the table of contents a list of the chapters in chronological order. Given the circumstances of their initial publication, there is inevitably some repetition from one chapter to the next. I have, however, made minor editorial changes to eliminate the most obvious redundancies. Moreover, the notes reflect the state of the literature at the time of publication. For this edition, I have made no systematic attempt to update the endnotes except to add references to the published editions of works I cited in manuscript in the original version.

Since each article was originally written to stand alone, most require little additional commentary. The reader may find a few brief comments helpful. The first three chapters constitute an introduction to the more focused studies that follow. Chapter 1 is a brief survey of historical writing on Old Belief with particular emphasis on works published outside Russia. Chapter 2 discusses approaches to the study of the Old Believers in the context of the international debates about popular religion. Chapter 3 is a survey of the early history of Old Belief in a comparative international context. It first appeared in a volume examining the relations between the early modern state, ecclesiastical hierarchies, and ordinary believers in a number of societies.

Several of the later chapters arose from my concern about the apparent reassertion of the old populist approach to Old Believer history as political and social protest in a religious guise. In retrospect, my worries appear exaggerated. Nevertheless, I wanted to carry out studies that would emphasize the theological, liturgical, and moral issues that preoccupied the Old Believers and other religious dissenters. For both theoretical and tactical reasons, I concentrated on four distinct areas—the so-called Kapiton movement of the mid-seventeenth century (chapter 4); Avraamii, a relatively neglected representative of the very first opponents of the Nikonian reforms (chapters 5 and 6); the spirituality and historical philosophy of the leaders of the Vyg community in the first half of the eighteenth century (chapters 8 and 9); and the writings and sermons of Andrei Borisov, the little known and complex figure who led Vyg in the late eighteenth century (chapter 10). With the wisdom of hindsight, I suspect that my enthusiasm for the new cultural history and symbolic anthropology may have led me to use the concepts and jargon of these disciplines too often or too loosely in the longer articles on Avraamii and Borisov. Finally, continuing my earlier work on the Vyg community, I have included a comparative survey of the structure and aspirations of the Old Believers’ quasi-monastic communities throughout the Russian Empire (chapter 7) and their suppression by the government of Nicholas I (chapter 12).

Hindsight has also made clear the extent to which my views on Old Belief have changed over the course of the last two decades. Many of my basic assumptions have remained the same. The reader will note, however, a shift of emphasis in the discussion of the relative isolation of the Old Believers from the rest of Russian society. In the earliest two essays included in this volume —those on Vyg spirituality (chapter 8) and historiography (chapter 9)—I emphasized the radical separation of Old Believer culture from mainstream society. In more recent times, however, the discoveries of Russian scholars, particularly N. V. Ponyrko, Gur’ianova, and Iukhimenko, and my own studies of Avraamii (chapter 5) and Andrei Borisov (chapter 10) made me more acutely aware of the subtle ways in which the intellectual leaders of Old Belief remained in contact with official high culture and used its ideas and techniques to advance their cause.

In closing, I want to emphasize the obvious—that no historians can function without the foundation of their predecessors’ writings, the inspiration and guidance of their mentors, and the encouragement and practical help of colleagues, librarians, and archivists. The autobiographical comments earlier in this preface give some indication of the number of individuals to whom I owe debts that I can never repay. It is to them that I dedicate this book of essays.

Historiography

and Theory

Chapter One

Past and Current Interpretations of the Old Belief

In the last few years, bibliographies of new books and articles and the agendas of scholarly conferences bear witness to an unprecedented surge of interest, in Russia and elsewhere, in the history and culture of the Old Believers. Not since the 1860s and 1870s and the interrevolutionary years, 1905–1917, has Old Belief attracted such wide interest among scholars and the general public. The reasons are not difficult to identify. As we are constantly reminded, in radically new political, social, and economic circumstances, Russians are seeking common values to replace the long-dead pieties of official Marxism-Leninism. The search leads in many directions, not least to Eastern Orthodox Christianity in its official and Old Believer variants. Indeed, in their enthusiasm for religiosity and religions of all kinds, Russians increasingly resemble Americans. Moreover, in struggling to create a new society on the ruins of the old, Russians are understandably searching for workable and culturally appropriate models of social organization and political action. For both practicing Old Believers and scholars of Old Belief, the past is an obvious place to look. In a broad sense, none of this is new. The earlier surges of interest in Old Belief also were responses to the social and political issues of the day.

The current flowering of Russian scholarship on the history and culture of Old Belief is the culmination of several decades of hard and careful work. Scholars published what the conditions permitted—studies on movements of religious heterodoxy as ideological reflections of popular resistance to political oppression and serfdom; editions and textological studies; and guides to manuscript collections. Annual summer expeditions combing remote regions for old books and manuscripts have long been a familiar feature of the academic landscape. Any work we undertake builds on these efforts. At the same time, as we all know, scholars like V. I. Malyshev cultivated a much deeper and more comprehensive scholarly understanding of Old Belief beneath the surface of the printed word. In the last few years, that which was hidden has been revealed: scholars in Russia can discuss any and all features of Old Belief without Aesopian language or intellectual gamesmanship. Their most serious problem now is a familiar one to their foreign colleagues—the economics of publishing.

A remarkable feature of the contemporary scene is the extent to which Old Believer studies has become a profoundly international enterprise. The prevailing currents in historical study are partly responsible for this situation. The new history, as my younger colleagues call it, puts heavy emphasis on the study of cultural values or mentalities particularly of non-elite social groups. Many studies of popular religious culture have appeared in the last three decades.¹

The close collaboration of historians, literary scholars, and ethnographers—long a feature of Old Believer studies in Russia—dovetails neatly with these scholarly agendas. Not surprisingly, then, in the last few years, important studies of Old Belief have appeared in several countries, Russian and non-Russian scholars alike have full access to unpublished written materials, the summer archeographical expedition has become a kind of international ecotourism and the international conference on Old Belief or traditional Russian culture a frequent occurrence. How we use this opportunity is surely our most important concern.

The core of this chapter will consist of observations on the history and current state of the literature on Old Belief. I make no claim to present a systematic survey of the historiography of Old Belief. Before offering my reflections, I have no choice but to raise issues of definition.

To begin with the most obvious question, what is Old Belief? From the mid-seventeenth century until today, officials, polemicists, and scholars alike have moved uneasily between two understandings of Old Belief—staroobriadchestvo and raskol—both well entrenched in serious scholarly writing. By staroobriadchestvo, scholars mean the groups of Eastern Orthodox Christians who have defined and identified themselves by their rejection of certain liturgical practices of the post-Nikonian Russian Orthodox Church such as the three-finger sign of the cross. This definition clearly includes members of the various accords of popovtsy (priestly) and bespopovtsy (priestless). Leaving aside its pejorative overtones, the word raskol (schism) logically encompasses a much wider variety of Russian Christians who reject their historical allegiance to the official Russian Orthodox Church, and thus it includes individuals and groups who have very little in common with Old Believers (staroobriadtsy) in the strict sense. These abstract distinctions can be very difficult to apply in practice. As Georg Michels has recently pointed out, the scattered inquisitorial and police sources of the late seventeenth century make it very difficult to distinguish Old Belief in the strict sense from more amorphous forms of heterodoxy.² Moreover, from that time until now, individuals—whether victims of early eighteenth-century inquisitors, sophisticated industrialists of the early twentieth century, or Karelian peasant women in recent years³—can be remarkably difficult to classify. How are we to categorize people who deny that they are Old Believers but adopt the identifying marks of that movement? Or how do we label individuals who identify themselves as Old Believers but whose lives show few signs of the movement’s beliefs and practices?

Insofar as it is possible to maintain rigorous distinctions, this chapter will adopt the narrower definition of Old Belief and will give all who identify themselves with that label the benefit of the doubt. Two other caveats are also in order. The following reflections will center on the history of Old Belief, not contemporary ethnography. Moreover, the comments that follow will give relatively little emphasis to ongoing new work.⁴

In a sense, the historiography of Old Belief begins in the mid-seventeenth century for Old Belief is, by nature, a historical movement. The earliest polemics against the Nikonian reforms set forth a sacred history of Russian Orthodoxy to justify opposition to particular changes in liturgical practice, the theoretical justification for them, and the administrative style with which they were implemented.⁵ The polemicists of the 1660s and early 1670s began with the premise that Russian Orthodoxy of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries was the only authentic expression of the Christian faith left in the world. Thus any radical deviation from the fundamental patterns of Russia’s recent ecclesiastical and cultural development automatically had to mean a fall into heresy and the beginning of the Apocalypse. Likewise Simeon Polotskii and later defenders of the reformed church had no choice but to present their countervailing vision of Orthodox history, which emphasized the ways in which the Muscovite church had strayed from the authentic Orthodox tradition. These fundamental assumptions underlay the polemics for and against the Old Belief for two centuries.

Thus, until the mid-nineteenth century, Old Believer apologetics and the polemics of the official Orthodox Church concentrated on the disputed issues of liturgical practice and the canonical and moral implications and consequences of those disputes. Moreover, for the first two centuries after the schism, the polemical exchange carried a subtext—more or less explicit depending on the time and circumstances—that Old Belief was subversive of good order in both church and state. In the reigns of Sophia (1682–1689) and Peter I (1689–1725) and again under Nicholas I (1825–1855), the civil government and ecclesiastical hierarchy shared a conviction that, far from being a harmless collection of eccentrics, the Old Believers actively fostered political subversion and moral anarchy.⁶ For their part, the Old Believers saw themselves as the only true Christian community within a larger society that had lost its cultural and moral underpinnings.

The middle decades of the nineteenth century saw an explosion of public interest in Old Belief. Scholars often divide the resulting scholarly and polemical literature into two familiar categories, the works of ecclesiastical historians and of the populists.⁷ The writings of the ecclesiastical historians arose from a missionary impulse supported by the imperial government, which, especially from the reign of Nicholas I, viewed the Old Believers both as schismatics and as politically and socially subversive. Beginning in the 1850s, Orthodox seminaries gave courses on the raskol to prepare future priests and missionaries. The instructors of these courses—the future Metropolitan Macarius and P. S. Smirnov, for example—wrote textbooks on the history and contemporary shape of Old Belief and other native forms of religious dissent in Russia.⁸ Their objective—whether expressed militantly as N. I. Subbotin did or more gently in the manner of Smirnov—was the reintegration of all Eastern Orthodox Christians into the fold of the official church.⁹ Their scholarly focus was equally specific: they concentrated on the liturgical, polemical, and canonical issues that separated the lost brothers and sisters from the Russian Orthodox Church and led to the division of Old Belief into innumerable contending branches or accords. Their writings paid little, if any, attention to the political circumstances in which Old Belief developed and none at all to the social and economic circumstances in which it grew.

At the same time, it is all too easy to dismiss their achievements. The ecclesiastical historians deserve credit for taking the Old Believers’ own writings seriously and concentrating on the issues that were of greatest importance to literate Old Believers themselves. Most of us have found the source publications of Subbotin and others indispensable.¹⁰ The quality of their editorial work stands up remarkably well when measured by the more rigorous standards of contemporary textology.¹¹ Likewise, the best detailed analyses of the liturgical and polemical debates to which the Old Believers themselves devoted so much energy are to be found in the work of the seminary professors, particularly Smirnov.¹²

Finally, in their rigor and seriousness of purpose, the ecclesiastical historians sometimes advanced scholarly positions that were distinctly embarrassing to the Orthodox hierarchy. Although the author staunchly defended the official Orthodox position, E. E. Golubinskii’s learned essays on the ecclesiastical conflicts of the seventeenth century suggested that both Greek and Muscovite Russian practices on disputed liturgical issues resulted from long, haphazard historical evolution and that neither, therefore, had any absolute claim to authenticity. Moreover, Golubinskii stated flatly that Patriarch Nikon and his allies made a disastrous error in arguing that earlier Russian practice was completely wrong and in anathematizing the two-finger sign of the cross, which was actually more ancient than the three-finger usage.¹³ Going further, in his examination of the details of the Nikonian reforms, N. F. Kapterev emphasized the extent to which the reforming patriarch and his associates botched the editing of the disputed liturgical texts and ran roughshod over Russian Orthodox tradition as well as the sensibilities of many contemporaries. As Subbotin realized, Kapterev’s work was far more subversive of the official Orthodox position than the most skillful Old Believer polemic.¹⁴

In the years of the Great Reforms, educated Russian society heard a compelling new voice, the populists. In his lengthy essays Russkii raskol staroobriadstva (1859) and Zemstvo i raskol (1862), A. P. Shchapov (1830–1876) expressed a radically new interpretation of the origins and spread of Old Belief and other forms of religious heterodoxy. Born in Siberia and educated in clergy schools, Shchapov wrote his first groundbreaking essays on the raskol while a teacher at the Kazan’ Theological Academy and the local university. His passionate homily at the funeral of the victims of the government’s repression of the peasant demonstrators at Bezdna in 1861 cost him his teaching positions. After three years of free-lance writing and political activity in St. Petersburg, he was exiled by the imperial government to Siberia where he spent the rest of his life.

In the first of his two programmatic statements, Shchapov interpreted Old Belief as the reassertion of the spiritual values and traditional religious practices of the Russian masses in opposition to the bureaucratizing reforms of the state and the ecclesiastical hierarchy. The Nikonian liturgical reforms, which Shchapov interpreted in the same way as the ecclesiastical historians, were not so much a cause as a pretext for the broad movement of popular opposition that emerged in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. In the jargon of our own day, Old Belief and other forms of dissent were the authentic expressions of popular religious culture in all its strengths and weaknesses. Once the movement of opposition took shape, it spread rapidly, thanks to the moral and organizational weaknesses of the Russian Orthodox Church, the energetic missionary work of its first leaders, and the oppressive policies of the Russian state. In short, Old Belief became a movement of democratic opposition to the administrative structure of the state.¹⁵ By 1862, a more radical Shchapov stated bluntly that the raskol was the ideological justification for the opposition of the zemstvo (the spontaneous political, social, and economic forces in Russian society) to the bureaucratizing state and its ecclesiastical allies. Not surprisingly, his most telling evidence to support this view came from the most politically radical elements in Old Belief, the preachers and pamphleteers who denounced Peter I as the Antichrist and the later beguny (fugitives), and from the documentation on the great popular revolts of the period. It was Shchapov who first drew the connection between Old Belief and rebellion, between Avvakum and Stenka Razin, by arguing that the former provided the ideological justification and slogans for the latter.¹⁶ Shchapov’s essays set off a veritable avalanche of books and essays exploring Old Belief and other forms of dissent as expressions of popular initiative and forms of opposition and rebellion against imperial power. On a more practical level, radical