The conversion of service land into privately-owned land in 1762 removed one important managerial task from the government roster. But . . . before this occurred the regime had taken on another—the running or supervising of the new (particularly the heavy) industry. By the end of the eighteenth century, state enterprises employed almost two-thirds of all industrial labor. And although in the nineteenth century the private sector expanded conspicuously, until the Emancipation large numbers of laborers continued to work in state enterprises. . . . By 1900 the government still controlled either directly or by means of licensing about 45% of all large modern enterprises of industrial production and communication.11
This reasoning again creates a problem—or even several problems. In the first place, what Wittfogel takes as a starting point itself requires explanation. Why is it that so drastic a "conversion," unheard of in any despotic state, all of a sudden took place in Russia?
Let us remember, for that matter, the fundamental position of Marx, on which Wittfogel himself relies: "The state [in Asia] is the supreme owner of the land. Sovereignty here
In the second place, the total sovereignty of the state over all of the national product, which is characteristic of despotism, is one thing, and state control over a definite portion of the industrial enterprises is quite another. And the difference here is not only one of degree, but primarily one of the quality of control. For that part of the industrial sector which was in private hands was—there is no getting out of it—private property, just like the land belonging to the nobility in the second half of the eighteenth century (or like the boyar lands before the second half of the sixteenth century).
In the third place, even according to Wittfogel, it was not the state, but precisely this private sector which proved capable of expansion, and increasingly displaced state ownership, gradually transforming itself into not only a social, but also a political force. In short, this was by no means the "weak private property" characteristic of despotism, incapable (by Wittfogel's definition) of having any political influence and unable to defend itself from the arbitrary action of the regime. On the contrary, this was "strong private property" and—what was still more important—capable of becoming stronger yet.
I have dealt specially only with those peculiarities of the Russian political structure which are noted by Wittfogel himself, without even touching on the decisive fact—its capacity for institutional and social development, unthinkable for despotism. Moreover, right up to the twentieth century, there has never been the kind of managerial class in Russia which, as Wittfogel was convinced, properly comprises the soul of despotism.
Wittfogel's follower and cothinker, Tibor Szamuely, also, as we have seen, finds his arguments insufficiently convincing. Szamuely believes that "the opportunity and the means" for despotism, supplied to
Muscovy by the Tatars, cannot sufficiently explain the explosion of Wittfogel's "institutional time bomb." A motive was also needed, and Szamuely finds one—or even two motives. The first consists in the enormous dimensions of the country, which in themselves, merely by virtue of the need for effective administration, required a despotic form of rule. "But the exigency which called forth the Muscovite variety of Oriental despotism was more pressing than the mere demand for effective administration," he adds.