Stalin’s Presence in Contemporary Russian Art Essay


Joseph Stalin ( 1878-1953 ) was the absolute and unchallenged swayer of the Soviet Union from 1936 to 1953. During this clip, Stalin ‘s reign of panic dictated the executing, imprisonment, famishment, and anguish of 1000000s of Soviet citizens. Although Stalin was famously denounced in Nikita Khruschev ‘s 1956 address to the Twentieth Party Congress, cinematic and literary unfavorable judgment of Stalin was badly circumscribed until the political melt of the 1980s, geting extra force merely after the autumn of the Soviet Union in 1991. Although emigre literature had long denounced Stalin, merely in the past 20 old ages has Russian film and literature produced within the former Soviet Union besides been able to critically analyze this epoch. Interestingly, modern-day Russian film and literature do non be given to mark the victims of Stalin ‘s terror-rather, they commemorate Stalin himself, and go forth small infinite for those victims who paid the ultimate monetary value for his panic. Ironically, one has to go forth the modern-day period for the epoch of Grekova and Tendryakov to happen Russian art truly committed to marking Stalin ‘s victims.

This statement hinges on three definitions, those of memorialization, victimhood and Stalinist panic. The first definition of commemorate, harmonizing to the Oxford English Dictionary, is “To call to the recollection of listeners or readers ; to do reference of, relate, or rehearse.” To mark can besides intend “to do encomiastic or honorable reference of ; to observe in address or authorship, ” which is rather different than the first definition. This essay sticks to the first of the two definitions, harmonizing to which to mark is simply to name to remembrance without doing value judgements about the individual commemorated. This definition has been chosen because it is the more inclusive of the two. Bearing in head that political fortunes have made it peculiarly hard for authors and film-makers in some epochs to straight brood on the victims on Stalin ‘s panic, this definition recognizes the political cogency of any supplication of these victims ; it is non necessary that the supplication be as elaborate and combative as that of emigre creative persons such as Solzhenitsyn, merely that it be, to number as a memorialization of the victims. As for victim, the really first chronological use of the word is as “A life animal killed and offered as a forfeit to some divinity or supernatural power, ” harmonizing to the Oxford English Dictionary. This is an ideal definition, given Stalin ‘s tireless dedication to set uping himself as an absolute swayer and the manner in which his homicidal panic furthered this terminal. But, merely as significantly, this definition establishes that a victim is ne’er a subsister, and regulations out as “commemoration” any artistic portraiture of people who really survived the Stalin epoch. A victim must hold been killed in order to number as a victim. Finally, Stalinist panic is here intended non merely to intend the Great Purge of 1936-1938, but refers to the full destructive setup of Stalinism from the clip of Stalin ‘s premise of absolute power in 1936 to his decease in 1953, including such phenomena as the show tests, judiciary expeditions, famishments ensuing from centralized planning, the forced migration of states, and the panics of the Gulag.

How Stalin Trumps His Victims in Contemporary Russian Art

Contemporary Russian film and literature, peculiarly of the post-1987 vintage, is far from homogeneous, but a big cross-section of creative persons takes basically the same stance counterpart the Stalinist panic. For illustration, a organic structure of of import Russian movies from the 1990s redefine the impression of the panic victims ‘ enduring so as it to do it, for all political intents, meaningless. For illustration, Stojanova discusses the ways in which the Russian managers Mikhalkov, Abdrashitov, and Khotinenko all portray “Russia’s current religious and moral crisis as a cumulative consequence of ill-conceived best purposes and entire absence of single duty… It is the mistake of each and every Russian who has ignored his or her common sense in the name of expansive delusions.”

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This attitude is epitomized by the destiny of Sergei Kotov, supporter of Mikhalkov ‘s Burnt by the Sun ( 1994, set in 1936 ) . Stojanova argues that, when Kotov is arrested, he “breaks down at the realization that he is a victim of his ain workss and [ is ] in a manner no better than his hired torturers.” Kotov ‘s dislocation comes before a elephantine portrayal of Stalin. The iconography, and Kotov ‘s motivations for interrupting down, have upseting deductions for the inquiry of Stalinist panic in modern-day Russian movie. The “sun” of the rubric is clearly Stalin-whose overpoweringly big portrayal identifies him with both the revolution and the province. The job, so, lies with Mikhalkov’s redefinition of Stalin ‘s agency-the amount of the moral picks that resulted in the deceases of millions-as a natural force. It is non, of class, the Sun ‘s mistake for firing people, and to present this imagination into the treatment of Stalinism is a dehistoricization of the facts of the Stalinist panic, which was by no means a “sun” but instead the deliberate and evitable human making of Stalin. In apologising for Stalinist dictatorship by redefining it as a natural phenomenon, Mikhalkov renders the victims of that tyranny both unseeable and responsible-just as Kotov is efficaciously unseeable beneath the portrayal of Stalin, and yet responsible for his ain purge by the system.

There is a scene in Burnt by the Sun in which, generalizing from Larsen’s analysis, it seems as if Kotov briefly stands in for Stalin-as-sun: The stage dancing of the sex scene topographic points Marusia on top, as if to stress that Kotov has non forced her into bed, but drawn her there with his magnetic appeal. His entreaty in this scene, as throughout the movie, is powerful, but passive-he prevarications back and accepts the worship of his married woman and everyone else. The strictly ocular logic of this scene argues that Marusia returns to Kotov non because of any ‘stories ‘ he tells her, nor because he forces her to subject, but because of his literally unbelievable sexual magnetism-a magnetic attraction that the movie casts as a moral force. Bearing in head that the Sun maps as symbol of male sexual authority in premodern faith, Stalin-through the organic structure of the old Bolshevik, Kotov-is here reconfigured as a timelessly desirable and godly male tyrant, with all of Russia as his submissive married woman. In this sexual economic system, there is no victimhood, merely voluntary entry.

The cultural political relations of Mikhalkov ‘s movie are by no agencies exceeding. Lohr provinces that “The entreaty of the strong regulation of a individual leader is besides grounded in a deep tradition… expressed in the old Russian expression, ‘better one autocrat than several. ‘” Therefore, modern-day Russian movie and literature can appeal to deep cultural memory to recover Stalin in assorted ways. Mikhalkov, for illustration, occludes Stalin ‘s bureau via a hyper-natural metaphor. Meanwhile, Galich, Shvarts, and a host of other Russian authors appeal to the supernatural by turning Stalin into a Satan or mock-devil. Ryan refers to this tendency of Russian art as “the secure option of sorting Stalin as extremist other, an foreigner who distorted and corrupted traditional Russian values.” The job with this “secure option, ” besides the manner in which it one time once more absolves Stalin of human bureau, is its captivation with anti-Stalinist myths as a replacing for Stalinist myths. Stalin, non his victims, is at the centre of this mythos, and works that employ the Stalin-as-devil figure of speech one time once more misplace the victims of Stalin ‘s human actions. This consequence is on full show in Iskander ‘s “The Banquets of Belshazzar, ” of which Ryan argues that “the power of the narrative derives from our being given entree to Stalin ‘s ideas and emotions. His psychotic belief, his megalomania, his paranoia, and his sadism are explored and exposed through his ain psychological viewpoint.” When Stalin occupies centre phase in this manner, as he does in Iskander, Galich, Shvarts, and other authors, he crowds out his victims ; there is small narrative infinite for them, as the power of the narratives rests elsewhere. Furthermore, like the Satan, Stalin is rendered in such an interesting manner in these plants that he acquires a sort of personal appeal, in much the same manner as the Hannibal Lecter character in the Thomas Harris novels.

Whether as a magnetic, supernatural, or hyper-natural ( “the sun” ) scoundrel, these portraitures of Stalin have one thing in common: they take Stalin as a supporter, and let him to rule the phase ( much as he did in actuality ) . As a narrative pick, this hypostatization of Stalin leaves small room to portray, discourse, or otherwise analyze the destiny of his victims, who tend to stay off-stage. Like the victims of the monster in a horror film, the victims exist to impart colour to the monster ; they do non hold a compelling being of their ain, and one seeks for their significant presence in modern-day Russian film and literature in vain.

The alternate attack to Stalin, which is for Russian creative persons to demythologise Stalin, besides leads off from the memorialization of Stalin ‘s victims. For illustration, the work of Erofeev, Aranovich, Komar, and Melamid “compels us to face Stalin’s upseting humanity. If he is non Satan or Antichrist, if he is non radically other, so he portions qualities with ordinary persons, and it becomes impossible ( so ineluctable ) to re-examine the Russian people ‘s function in Stalinism.” This re-examination is kindred to the decision of Burn by the Sun, in which the offenses of Stalin besides become the offenses of all Russians, including Stalin ‘s victims, and leads to what Ryan admits is a “vexing ethical inquiry… Who is to fault? ” So now, in an artistic existence in which Stalin is besides recognizable homo, the moral playing field is level: Stalin has bureau, but so does everyone else in Russia-including his victims-and reviews of bureau itself ( as in Burnt by the Sun ) become more of import than Stalin ‘s bureau, allowing him off the moral hook.

The inquiry of incrimination is merely annoying because, in modern-day Russian art to day of the month, Stalin is normally a presence who pre-empts the presence of the victim. Were Stalin to melt into the deep background of Russian art, it would be possible to see and mark his victims. As it is, Stalin ‘s victims are so absent from Russian art that Ryan can inquire her inquiry, of “Who is to fault? ” in all earnestness. It is difficult to conceive of this sort of inquiry being asked of the drama Bent, a drama that depicts the hideous destiny of openly cheery work forces in Nazi Germany, because Hitler is wholly absent from it. The cardinal land is occupied by the victims themselves, leting the audience to sympathise with their quandary and understand that enduring is non natural or supernatural, but the intricately premeditated consequence of human bureau ( of which the Nazi decease cantonments and Stalin ‘s Gulag are two of the most distressful illustrations ) .

Regardless of whether Russian graphics mythologizes or demythologizes Stalin, the job remains the same: Iosif vissarionovich dzhugashvili is excessively much in the image. Therefore, the extent to which Stalin appears in a modern-day Russian graphics, whether verse form or picture, movie or novel, is the extent to which the experience of Stalin ‘s victims is concealed, underestimated, or ignored. The memorialization of Stalin and that of his victims is reciprocally sole.

One manner to exemplify this thesis is by turning to “Masters of Life, ” the 1960 Irina Grekova narrative about a adult male whose life has been destroyed by Stalinism. On the definition employed by this essay, the adult male is non a victim-he has, after all, survived. But the relevant point about the narrative is that Stalin is absent from it, except as a shadow hovering over the background of the adult male ‘s remembrances. Because Stalin is absent, the adult male ‘s narrative can convey the narrative of the victims with full force ; the adult male becomes a conduit, supplying populating testimony on behalf of those who died at the custodies of the Stalinist system between 1936 and 1953. On another, more extremist, reading, the adult male in the train is himself dead because, as Brown notes, everything has been stripped from him, “including his identity.” Grekova ‘s narrative is a bravura public presentation, non merely because of its rhetorical devices but besides because it manages to come at Stalinism from the bottom up-from the experiences of nameless victims, non from within Stalin ‘s ain caput. It takes considerable accomplishment for Grekova to draw of this consequence, one that “manages to do this hapless adult male a really interesting and individualised character, and non merely the faceless victim of a common tragedy.”

The same consequence is achieved by Tendryakov ‘s narratives “Donna Anna, ” “Bread for a Dog, ” and “Paranya, ” three narratives that focus on the impact of Stalinism on rural Russia without leting Stalin to look on the scene. Because Stalin is absent, readers are non lost in inevitable awe of Stalin as a character, but are free to concentrate on the victims created by Stalin ‘s policies-including, in “Bread for a Dog, ” people who starve to decease because of Stalin.

As facile and powerful as the plants of Grekova and Tendryakov ‘s are, they do non stand for a dominant subject in modern-day Russian art. They are, instead, exceeding in their exclusion of Stalin from narratives of Stalinism-an exclusion that strengthens the narratives ‘ political and aesthetic hand-and n their scrupulous and classless attending to the experiences of provincials, husbandmans, and unidentified refugees. However, for every “Masters of Life, ” there are many other Russian narratives and movies that place Stalin at the centre of the action and accordingly obstruct his victims in one manner or another. Regardless of how irreverent these plants are-and Ziolkowsky justly points to the widespread “subversion of what was one time Stalin ‘s close Godhead status”-they still place Stalin at the centre of their narrative infinite, and it is non until Stalin is decentered, as in Grekova and Tendryakov, that the difficult work of stating his victims ‘ narratives can get down.


In instances of consecutive victimization, when full populations are enslaved or slain, victims unhappily cease to be persons and go statistics or background facts alternatively. “How bantam is the figure of slaves of whom anything whatever is known, ” wrote George Orwell in 1944, apropos of this phenomenon. “I myself know the names of merely three slaves… .All the others are non even names. We do n’t… cognize the name of a individual one of the myriads of human existences who built the Pyramids.” Similarly, the 1000000s of people-sometimes consisting full nations-who disappeared in Stalin ‘s panic do non, on the whole, survive as names or narratives in modern-day Russian film and literature, despite the isolated exclusions in narratives by such authors as Grekova and Tendryakov. Alternatively, modern-day plants tend to mark Stalin, those who survived his epoch, or both.

It may be that this is non needfully because of innately reactionist tendencies in Russian art or a posthumous canonisation of Stalin, but because narratives of endurance are emotionally more uplifting than narratives about the dead, and because to brood on panic might be seen as a guilty admittance of self-hatred or shame. One strand in Russia ‘s selfnarrative since 1991 has been a obstinate refusal to apologise for the Communist epoch, whereas another strand has been approximately, as the rubric of U.S. Presidential Barack Obama’s book has it, the audaciousness of hope-here, in the thought of Russia itself as an entity that transcends the shame and blameworthiness of any one historical epoch. Neither component of the post-Soviet narrative is peculiarly suiting of the memorialization of Stalin’s victims. It falls to a more mature Russia, one that is willing to confront its past horrors, to give more names and narratives to Stalin ‘s victims. Another, more distressing, possibility is that Stalin ‘s oversize personality exerts perverse appeal from beyond the grave, going a more interesting and colourful supporter for film and prose than his victims. In storytelling footings, immorality may merely be more interesting than victimhood, supplying another ground why, in so much of modern-day Russian narrative art, Stalin ‘s victims are so often eclipsed by the adult male himself.