The Perception of Russian Culture and Its Role in Shaping Russia’s Image Abroad

It would be wrong to say that Russia’s arts and culture still play a fundamental role in shaping the country’s image abroad. They seem to have taken a backseat to politics – often viewed negatively both in Russia and abroad – and to the waves of new Russian immigrants, who have been heading West in large numbers since the Soviet Union’s collapse in 1991and who, to put it mildly, are not always on their best behavior.

Low-income immigrants often wind up in criminal gangs, adding to Westerners’ fears of the Russian mafia and prostitution rackets. Rich Russian immigrants, meanwhile, repulse the local population by smugly and ostentatiously flaunting their wealth and ignoring local traditions. But despite all their wealth the Russian nouveau-riche can hardly buy their way into high society in Europe or the United States, so they often find themselves living isolated lives in their golden ghettos. Unfortunately, this is now what chiefly defines Russia’s image abroad.

Classical Russian art, Soviet avant-garde and contemporary works still sell well at Sotheby’s, Christie’s and the like. And Russian 19th-century literature remains highly appreciated in the West, as does the legacy of some Soviet-era Russian authors, and works penned by Soviet émigrés. The oeuvres of Pasternak and Akhmatova still find a broad and appreciative foreign audience. But in the minds of many Westerners, that Russia, the Russia that boasted a refined and noble culture, is no more. It has been replaced by an all pervasive boorishness, of people and power. Russian philosopher Dmitry Merezhkovsky predicted this ‘rise of the plebs’ in his 1906 essay “The Coming of Ham” (Ham refers here to the biblical figure and is also the Russian word for “boor”).

There is no need for us, as Russians, to highlight time and again our old cultural treasures, which are already part of the world’s heritage. Western intellectuals will continue to read Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy and Nabokov in any case. In fact, it is thanks to Russian classical literature, fine arts and ballet (not even just Soviet ballet – but the pre-revolutionary ballet of Diaghilev) that many of my Western fellow historians developed a taste for Russian history.

Rather, we should concentrate our energies on our own cultural growth. Otherwise we will end up – using 19th-century poet Mikhail Lermontov’s metaphor – as “a lean lank fruit, ripened before its hour… rejoicing neither tongue nor heart nor eyes.” It hangs among flowers as “an orphan foreigner,” and “the hour their beauty blooms – the hour it dies.” The tree of Russian culture is amazingly opulent, and we should make every effort not to appear like a shriveled, prematurely ripened fruit against its lush verdure.

During the Soviet era, the country’s socialist system had quite a few sympathizers abroad, primarily among left-wing intellectuals. There were formidable Communist Parties in many countries, not all financed by Moscow. Willing and active ideologues were to be found in France, Italy and across Latin America. You could even find Stalinists in these circles of Western radicals. Every cultural expression of Soviet realia was of interest to them, from Soviet music to Soviet poetry.

In the non-verbal arts, such as music and ballet, political dissent is less obvious than in literature. This is why virtually all leading Soviet authors found themselves in open opposition to the Communist regime. Pasternak, a major 20th-century Russian poet and novelist, was stigmatized by the authorities and not allowed to accept the Nobel Prize awarded to him in 1958 for “Doctor Zhivago.” As a result, even those people in the West who glorified the Soviet regime had to avoid praising Pasternak’s genius.

The same holds true of Anna Akhmatova and still more so of Alexander Solzhenitsyn, who defiantly declared himself an enemy of the Communist regime and ended up in exile in America. Another Nobel laureate, Joseph Brodsky, too, was forced out of the country – he was seen as being an enemy of the state.

In the Soviet era, the world’s perceptions of contemporary Russian arts and culture were highly politicized. The regime’s supporters praised what within the Soviet Union was allowed to be praised, while opponents argued that genuine Russian literature was only to be found in pockets of resistance.

Solzhenitsyn’s “live-not-by-lies” principle became a key to understanding Russia’s arts and culture of the time. Those who followed this principle continued to create works of genuine value, while those who betrayed themselves by choosing to collaborate with the regime soon died culturally and spiritually. One of the most striking examples is the tragic end of Alexander Fadeyev, a talented author who agreed to do Stalin’s bidding. Fadeyev eventually committed suicide, leaving a note in which he cursed his collaboration with the Communist regime.

In today’s Russia, there is no longer any dominant, oppressive, ideology, yet, paradoxically, good literature is scarce. The few contemporary Russian writers known in the West are appreciated only by a narrow group of specialists. And Russia’s arts and culture in general are seen abroad as being past their glory days: a great culture, eroded by quotidian thuggishness.

Russian culture remains popular abroad; there is no need to actively promote it. Westerners have a good sense of what Russia’s contemporary cultural scene looks like. And some know it even better than we do. Fellow historians in the West often tell me about new books, theater productions and films I have not even heard of. Russia’s culture is better known abroad than it is at home.

Russia’s authorities should now focus not as much on the promotion of national arts and culture abroad as on efforts to ensure that this cultural sense survives in Russia, to revive the nation’s dormant creative potential. Young people should be provided with quality education – so that they have access to all the country’s treasures of art and literature. Instead of aspiring to a life of crime, they should dream of contributing to their country’s cultural resurgence.

This is a highly ambitious program, and each of us should begin with his or our personal development. As the saying goes “Physician – heal thyself.” Those of us involved in our nation’s cultural life, and politicians even more so, should work toward becoming cultured, and turn our backs on brutishness and vulgarity. We must work to develop and enrich our noble language, our great culture – if we fail, we will simply cease to be Russian. If we succeed, Russia will be appreciated across the world not just for its classical art and literature, but also for its current and future contributions to the humankind’s creative heritage.

Views expressed are of individual Members and Contributors, rather than the Club's, unless explicitly stated otherwise.