A Journey From St. Petersburg to Moscow (Excerpts)


Alexander Radishchev

Torzhok

Everyone in our country is now permitted to own and operate a printing press, and the time has passed when they were afraid to grant this permission to private individuals, and when, because in free printing offices false statements might be printed, they renounced the general good and this useful institution. Now anybody may have the tools of printing, but that which may be printed is still under watch and ward. The censorship has become the nursemaid of reason, wit, imagination, of everything great and enlightened. But where there are nurses, there are babies and leading strings, which often lead to crooked legs; where there are guardians, there are minors and immature minds unable to take care of themselves. If there are always to be nurses and guardians, then the child will walk with leading strings for a long time and will grow up to be a cripple...
Having recognized the usefulness of printing, the government has made it open to all; having further recognized that control of thought might invalidate its good intention in granting freedom to set up presses, it turned over the censorship or inspection of printed works to the Department of Public Morals. Its duty in this matter can only be the prohibition of the sale of objectionable works. But even this censorship is superfluous. A single stupid official in the Department of Public Morals may do the greatest harm to enlightenment and may for years hold back the progress of reason: he may prohibit a useful discovery, a new idea, and may rob everyone of something great. Here is an example on a small scale. A translation of a novel is brought to the Department of Public Morals for its imprimatur. The translator, following the author, in speaking of love calls it "the tricky god." The censor in uniform and in the fullness of piety strikes out the expression, saying, "It is improper to call a divinity tricky." He who does not understand should not interfere. If you want fresh air, remove the smoky brazier; if you want light, remove that which obscures it; if you do not want the child to be timid, throw the rod out of the school. In a house where whips and sticks are in fashion, the servants are drunkards, thieves, and worse.
Let anyone print anything that enters his head. If anyone finds himself insulted in print, let him get his redress at law. I am not speaking in jest. Words are not always deeds, thoughts are not always crimes. These are the rules in the Instruction for a New Code of Laws. But an offense in words or in print is always an offense. Under the law no one is allowed to libel another, and everyone has the right to bring suit. But if one tells the truth about another, that cannot, according to the law, be considered a libel. What harm can there be if books are printed without a police stamp? Not only will there be no harm; there will be an advantage, an advantage from the first to the last, from the least to the greatest, from the Tsar to the last citizen...
The dissenters from the revealed religion have so far done more harm in Russia than those who do not acknowledge the existence of God, the atheists. There are not many of the latter among us, because few among us are concerned about metaphysics. The atheist errs in metaphysics; the dissenter in crossing himself with only two fingers. Dissenters or raskol'niki is our name for all those Russians who in any manner depart from the common doctrine of the Greek Church. There are many of them in Russia; hence they are allowed to hold divine services. But why should not every aberration be permitted to be out in the open? The more open it is, the quicker it will break down. Persecutions have only made martyrs; cruelty has been the support of the Christian religion itself. The consequences of schisms are sometimes harmful. Prohibit them. They are propagated by example. Destroy the example. A printed book will not cause a raskol'nik to throw himself into the fire, but a moving example will. To prohibit foolishness is to encourage it. Give it free rein; everyone will see what is foolish and what is wise. What is prohibited is coveted. We are all Eve's children.
But in prohibiting freedom of the press, timid governments are not afraid of blasphemy, but of criticism of themselves. He who in moments of madness does not spare God, will not in moments of lucidity and reason spare unjust power. He who does not fear the thunders of the Almighty laughs at the gallows. Hence freedom of thought is terrifying to governments. The freethinker who has been stirred to his depths will stretch forth his audacious but mighty and fearless arm against the idol of power, will tear off its mask and veil, and lay bare its true character. Everyone will see its feet of clay; everyone will withdraw the support which he had given it; power will return to its source; the idol will fall. But if power is not seated in the fog of contending opinions, if its throne is founded on sincerity and true love of the common weal, will it not rather be strengthened when its foundation is revealed? And will not the true lover be loved more truly? Mutuality is a natural sentiment, and this instinct is deeply implanted in our nature. A solid and firm building needs only its own foundation; it has no need of supports and buttresses. Only when it is weakened by old age does it have need of lateral support. Let the government be honest and its leaders free from hypocrisy; then all the spittle and vomit will return their stench upon him who has belched them forth; but the truth will always remain pure and immaculate. He whose words incite to revolt (in deference to the government, let us so denominate all firm utterances which are based on truth but opposed to the ruling powers) is just as much a fool as he who blasphemes God. Let the government proceed on its appointed path; then it will not be troubled by the empty sound of calumny, even as the Lord of Hosts is not disturbed by blasphemy. But woe to it if in its lust for power it offends against truth. Then even a thought shakes its foundations; a word of truth will destroy it; a manly act will scatter it to the winds.
A personal attack, if it is unjustly offensive, is a libel. A personal attack which states the truth is as admissible as truth itself. If a blinded judge judges unjustly, and a defender of innocence publicizes his unjust decision and shows up his wiles and injustice, that will be a personal attack, but one that is permissible; if he calls him a venal, false, stupid judge, that is a personal attack, but it is admissible. But if he begins to call him dirty names and slanders him with offensive words such as one hears in the marketplace, that is a personal attack, but it is offensive and inadmissible. But it is not the business of the government to defend the judge, even though he may have been criticized unjustly. Not the judge, but the person offended, should appear as plaintiff in this case. Let the judge justify himself, before the world and before those who appointed him, by his deeds alone. Thus one must judge of a personal attack. It deserves punishment, but in print it will do more good than harm. If everything were in order, if decisions were always rendered in accordance with the law, if the law were founded on truth, and all oppression were barred then perhaps, and only then, a personal attack might be injurious to the state...
I will close with this: the censorship of what is printed belongs properly to society, which gives the author a laurel wreath or uses his sheets for wrapping paper. Just so, it is the public that gives its approval to a theatrical production, and not the director of the theater. Similarly the censor can give neither glory nor dishonor to the publication of a work. The curtain rises, and everyone eagerly watches the performance. If they like it, they applaud; if not, they stamp and hiss. Leave what is stupid to the judgment of public opinion; stupidity will find a thousand censors. The most vigilant police cannot check worthless ideas as well as a disgusted public. They will be heard just once; then they will die, never to rise again. But once we have recognized the uselessness of the censorship, or, rather, its harmfulness in the realm of knowledge, we must also recognize the vast and boundless usefulness of freedom of the press.

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