Sixteen years in Siberia: Some experiences of a Russian revolutionist

by L. G. Deich

Those of our criminal contingent who had travelled this way more than once already were well acquainted with the manners and customs of the Siberian people; many of them were veritable mines of information, and could relate tales of uncommon interest. In their narrations the Siberians usually figured in an unfavourable light; for the criminals hate them from the bottom of their hearts, and ascribe all kinds of evil qualities to them, being, one and all, firmly persuaded that although their own standard of conduct is by no means exalted, they are infinitely higher in the moral scale than the Siberians.

“Heaven knows we are rascals through and through, good-for-nothings, and all that; but that lot are far and away worse,” was their dictum. They showered on the Siberians all sorts of contemptuous names, which were quite incomprehensible to us, but seemed to provoke their recipients terribly. This mutual antipathy probably arose from the fact of the parties knowing one another only too well, and from the injuries inflicted by each on the other during past generations.

We came into such close contact with the world of crime during our travels that we could soon recognise what Lombroso calls “the criminal type.” On the whole, the criminals made a more favourable impression on me than I had expected. Certainly there was much about them unpleasant, and even repulsive; but this was, I think, less due to their character as a class than to the special influence of the “Ivans”—a quite peculiar type, who imparted their tone more or less to all the others. With the exception of these leaders, and of a small number of the worst criminals, who had not succeeded in “swopping,” the majority consisted of very average men of the working class, with the good and bad qualities of their order. Their leading characteristics were dumb acquiescence in their lot and a shy dread of anyone who would attempt to better it.

They were for the most part just as good-natured and ready to help one another as is commonly the case with workers of the lower classes. Among the ordinary prisoners, too, were to be found many individuals who could in no sense be ranked as criminals. Russian village communes have the power of rejecting from their midst members whom they consider undesirable; and these outcasts can then be sent to settle in Siberia, without any judicial sentence, but simply by the desire of a majority in their commune. Moreover, this verdict of the commune is often delivered without any real majority being convinced as to the unfitness of the offending member; the clerk to the commune and two or three of the richer peasants and usurers (Kulaki) can easily manage to get rid of a poor wretch who does not happen to please them. It would be impossible to calculate how many crying injustices are thus perpetrated on the destitute and helpless among the peasantry. The victims of such barbarous and arbitrary proceedings who were among our party, had many sad stories to tell, which only corroborated what I myself had seen going on in country districts. With one or two exceptions, the exiles belonging to this category were quite average specimens of the Russian peasant.

There were also included among these ordinary prisoners members of various religious sects, exiled on that account, and they were very far removed from the criminal type. These sectarians are admitted, by all who know Siberia best, to form the steadiest and the most industrious element of the population. The sectarians in our party of ordinary prisoners always avoided any participation in the fights, quarrels, and rowdyism of the others, and tried not to fall out either with the leaders of the convict band, on the one hand, nor with the authorities on the other. It was their custom to accept humbly all insults and injuries inflicted on them as trials sent them by God.

Those prisoners who had minor punishments to undergo, and who had least on their conscience, were for the most part timid, submissive, even broken-spirited. Among them were the unfortunate wretches whom I have described as gambling away their food-money for whole weeks together. They then literally starved, or sold themselves into the hands of the “swop” organisation for a beggarly sum. They were treated with utter contempt by the other criminals, and among them went by the name of “biscuits,” a rather descriptive title for these pale, dried-up, emaciated creatures. These “biscuits” were the pariahs of their society, and all the dirtiest and most disagreeable work—cleaning out of privies, etc.—fell to their share as a matter of course. They seemed to have lost all power of will; and gambling—the source of all their sufferings—was the only thing they cared for. They were always ready to steal anything that came in their way, except from the “Ivans,” which would have had dire results for themselves if discovered, probably a murderous thrashing. I only knew one case of that kind, when a poor young fellow stole a piece of bread from one of the “Ivans,” and the artèl at once decided that he should be punished exemplarily, “because he had stolen from his own people.”

I have spoken before of this artèl, an extremely interesting institution which has existed among criminals from time immemorial. It is based on stringent and unalterable rules, the chief of which is that each individual must yield implicit obedience to the will of the whole artèl. All members are supposed to have, de jure, equal rights in the organisation; but, de facto, the confirmed criminals, the old experienced rogues and vagabonds, are the preponderating element, and it is the “Ivans” that govern the rest ruthlessly in their own proper interest. It is their will that passes for the will of the whole body. Without the sanction of the artèl no agreement between individuals has any force; only with its consent can any “swop” be carried out, and thus a portion of the price always goes into the common exchequer. Once the sanction of the artèl is given there is no holding back; a criminal who refused to fulfil his “swop” when he had agreed to it and received his pay would have the whole combined artèl against him. But such a case never occurs; and fear of the artèl’s vengeance is too great for any treachery by its members. The lawful authorities would have no power to shield such a traitor, and could not get him out of the clutches of the organisation; for if he were moved to another prison the artèl there would take on the feud and mete out vengeance to him, the leaders invariably finding means to communicate with each other. In one respect the solidarity of the artèl is especially strong: it is represented in all dealings with the authorities by its stàrosta or head-man, elected by the prisoners themselves from among their own ranks. This is a post of honour, and is naturally always obtained by an experienced and crafty rogue. He makes all arrangements concerning his constituents, receives their food-money, and sees to its distribution. His authority over the common herd is limitless; but he is directly dependent on the leaders—the “Ivans”—who have carried through his election, and would be powerless without their support, so that he has to keep on good terms with them. The office of stàrosta has its pecuniary advantages, and it often happens that candidates for the post pay a considerable sum for the votes of the powerful “Ivans.”

A less important, but equally profitable post is that of the storekeeper, who trades with the other prisoners in tea, sugar, tobacco, and other things of the kind, and—secretly—in spirits and playing-cards. This privilege is granted by the artèl for a fixed time to one of the candidates for the office, who pays for it a certain sum into the common chest. The chief profits accrue from the illicit sale of spirits and hiring out of playing-cards. At night, as soon as the ordinary prisoners were shut in, and often even by day, they might be seen squatting together in groups to indulge in a game of chance. They would gamble away not only their meagre food-allowance, but clothes, linen, boots, the property of the State; for which they were of course accountable, and for the loss of which—if discovered—they were liable to severe punishment. Half naked, save for some miserable rags, the condition of the wretched “biscuits” in bad weather was pitiable indeed; and when the cold days of autumn came on they could be seen shivering from head to foot, running instead of walking when on the march, to try and keep warm. It was hard to understand how these men could endure the hunger and cold they brought on themselves. We attempted to relieve them, but could do very little; as, firstly, our own means were very limited; and, secondly, they staked everything we gave them, at the first opportunity, despite the most solemn promises. There was always an eager crowd around any players, following the game with as much excitement as the principals themselves could manifest; and occasionally a lucky winner would share some of his gains with his starving comrades. It was the custom, too, for the storekeeper to treat the whole company when his term of office expired; that was a feast-day for the hungry, and you might hear them say: “To-day we’ll eat our fill; the storekeeper pays”!

The officers of the escort on principle never interfered with the affairs of the artèl, the prisoners themselves managing to keep order so as to avoid any occasion for such interference or coercion. It was certainly remarkable that this crowd of people, many of whom were hardened robbers and murderers, should have been so easy to rule; for the numbers of the escort were relatively small. No prisoner attempted to escape, that being strictly forbidden by their rules during the journey for fear of reprisals by the authorities against the artèl. There were squabbles and scuffles, but never anything that necessitated the interference of the soldiery; and though doubtless there was an inordinate amount of drinking (for spirits were always to be had), no drunkard was allowed to carry on any brawling under the eye of the officer. The others saw to that. There was a tacit understanding between the artèl and the officer; the latter knew that if the prisoners were allowed a free hand in certain matters he could count on them to keep order among themselves, and never to cause him any trouble. He therefore looked the other way when regulations were disregarded, as, for instance, in the matter of fetters, which were always merely tied together, not riveted; so that though worn on the march they could be taken off at night—which was of course against rules. Among all the different convoy officers (and there were forty stationed on the route between Tomsk and Kara—men of very varied types), not one made any exception to this rule. I have never observed any abuse of their power in regard to the prisoners, nor that they were particularly rude and rough in dealing with them; still less that they ever attempted to mulct them of their food-money or other allowances. On the other hand, it often happens that these officers are prosecuted for shortcomings of this kind in connection with their subordinates, and even for direct peculation. It must be remembered that the halting-stations are established in the wilderness, far removed from the reach of the central authorities, military and civil. It is easy, therefore, for a commanding officer to abuse his position. Most of them get but a scanty education in the lower military schools, and are then sent out into the Siberian wilds, where many are naturally led to give the rein to their worst qualities. The majority of them know no pleasure but debauchery, and when drunk commit all kinds of excesses, gamble away the excise-money, maltreat their inferiors, and so on.

There were a few officers with a taste for economy, and they were less inclined to excess, but the soldiers were scarcely better off under their rule—perhaps worse—than under that of the rakes and drunkards; for these able financiers established such a thorough control of ways and means in their department that their unfortunate men were not only mercilessly fleeced, but made to do all sorts of work in house and field in order to save paying for labour. However, this class was not a large one.