Russia, the USSR and Post-Soviet Space

In 1832, the Imperial Russian poet Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin wrote in his verse poem, Eugene Onegin, that ‘in a mere five hundred years’ Russian roads would be unrecognisable — there would be massive ‘bridges’ connecting Russia both internally and with the rest of Christendom. This verse ends comically and anticlimactically, with the Narrator’s wishes for each travelling station to have an alehouse to stay in. Knowing the absolute shambles that many roads in Russia (and post-Soviet territories more generally) are, it is justifiable to argue that Pushkin was a pragmatic who simply wanted to travel without being stuck in a ditch. And yet, there is something both metaphysical and intangible about this desire to create bridges and alehouses on the road. After all, both of these connect groups of people across geographical space, literally and in discourse. Pushkin’s words perhaps sound ironic in the light of current political events. It is evident that some metaphorical cultural bridges are rotting away. But new ones are being created in their place.

There is probably no need to introduce the familiar cultural bridge of Russian and Soviet literature and philosophy. Many Britons flocked to see the 2016 adaptation of War and Peace, Chekhov’s plays are being read by GCSE and A-level drama students in great numbers, keen philosophy students love a cheeky discussion about whether they “have a right”, paraphrasing Dostoevsky over a pint at the pub. Those of us who study Russian, Soviet and post-Soviet literature joke about bourgeoisie-fighting aliens who wistfully observe communist Moscow from their Martian homes. These cultural bridges to Russia and the Soviet territories are familiar as they are referenced in the arts, in daily conversations, in lectures. People have different motives for throwing a couple of references to Russian and Soviet literature and philosophy into their conversations. Some like to enhance an already engaging conversation with a reference. Others just want to show off their knowledge. People are different and so are the reasonings behind their actions. 

Since the current Russo-Ukrainian war began, attitudes towards these Russian cultural bridges have changed. From my personal observations, many more people have begun looking beyond Moscow and St Petersburg— perhaps by researching the literature of the Caucasus region or looking at Ukrainian and Polish literary traditions. More questions have been raised about the places of authors like Mikhail Bulgakov and Isaac Babel (the former born in Kyiv, the latter in Odessa) in the Russian canon. These discussions were to be expected. The Russian cultural bridge was shaking, but continued to stand.

That was until one day, when someone raised the simple question of why so few modern Russian intellectuals engage with the actual destruction and horrors of war. Why are concrete facts so often veiled by heavy, semi-religious metaphors of penitence and bad excuses? In the twenty-first century, the voices of the Russian intelligentsia echo their twentieth-century predecessors, as they continue to tip-toe around actual problems. This baffling, at first glance, attitude was and remains an important feature of Russian intellectual debate—a direct result of decades of authoritarian control and due to the lack of free press that pushed intellectuals to discuss very current events through the literary medium. Will this approach work this time or will it only reinforce the Russian propaganda messages externally and internally? Hard to say. But for many students who are studying Eastern Europe right now the refusal of Russian intellectuals to engage directly with the effects of the current war is emblematic of the Russian cultural bridge’s rotting process. Only time will show us if it will continue this way.

Conversely, Ukrainian and Eastern European bridges seem to be springing up. In the UK, there is a growing interest in Eastern Europe. Former Habsburg and Imperial Russian holdings are being analysed in history departments through cultural and imperial lenses, more people are signing up for language courses that teach Slavonic languages, and those who already have experience with them are signing for advanced courses. The ‘Top Selling’ sub-section on the Waterstones’ website includes 7 books about either Russia, Putin or Ukraine in its Top 10. The music industry reflects this trend, as this year’s Eurovision saw Ukraine leading the chart, as well as Moldova and Serbia in the Top 10. Will this interest continue? Only time will tell.

Whilst in both cases only time will show us the future of these different cultural bridges, it is justifiable to hope that more people will question their approaches and search for more nuance in the current cultural situation, be that through a shared joke, or by reading a book. Perhaps, we might even see some chatting in alehouses about these cultural bridges.