Contemporary Russian Memorials: Sculptural Bureaucratism / Russian Historical Politics in January 2012
Discussions of December’s protest activities left the most noticeable mark in the news archive of the Russian press this January: ordinary citizens and politicians speculated about future developments, scandals connected to the electoral race broke out in the mass media. Pro- and anti-Putin demonstrations took place in Russia. Pussy Riot performed on Red Square’s “Place of Skulls,” the political opposition organized an auto race on the Garden Ring. A private meeting with Prime Minister Putin was held in a Kemerovo factory, while, at the same time, 12 thousand people gathered for a pro-government demonstration in Yekaterinburg. The press carefully followed agreements with the Moscow mayor’s office regarding the route of the February 4 opposition march.
With the return of public politics to Russian life, other events were overshadowed in the news: the detention in Poland of Aleksandr Ignatenko, the former Moscow-region First Deputy Prosecutor General, on the grounds that he was involved in illegal gambling; the murder of a teenager in a Petersburg police station; an earthquake in Tuva; the wreck of the ocean liner “Costa Concordia” in the Mediterranean Sea; and leaders of the international community speaking out against Iran’s nuclear program.
This month’s report from the project “Monitoring Historical Politics” is dedicated to a key theme: new memorials appearing throughout Russia. The site’s editor, Natalia Kolyagina, took a closer look at the monuments erected in January.
Contemporary Russian Memorials: Sculptural Bureaucratism
Memorials/monuments have become one of the most popular forms of commemoration in today’s Russia – it would be sufficient to simply take note of how often new memorials appear (on average 10-15 per month — see tag “The Memorial”).
The monitoring project’s January bulletin reveals a characteristic piece of the larger picture of the commemorative practices surrounding memorials: from the planning and approval of the plan for a new monument, its construction and opening, and the traditional ceremonies held at the memorial’s base, to activities that fell, intentionally or not, outside of the regular script. While the sample represented in January’s news does not fully reflect the politics of Russian memorials, we can still use this material as the basis for a discussion of their most important tendencies.
The decision to erect a monument is made, with rare exceptions (for example, when opening a monument of federal significance), at the level of the regional officials, who possess the authority to approve of or decline proposals for new memorials put forth by concrete persons.
Memorials and National Self-Determination
Turning our attention to the experience of memorial politics in the Russian Federation’s national republics and autonomous areas, we see that, here, the authorities’ task often becomes the “immortalization” of local heroes called upon to emphasize a unique identity or the wealth of the region’s or ethnic group’s historical traditions.
The results of the meeting of Udmurt Kenesh, a republic-level community organization, in January 2012 illustrate how significant the project of national self-determination for Russia’s “small peoples” can be for the politics of commemoration. At this event, the group decided to create a monument dedicated to Trokai Borisov in Izhevsk. Borisov, an Udmurt ethnographer and public figure who promoted Udmurt autonomy, was repressed in 1940 (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2857). As part of the preparation for the 130th anniversary of Borisov’s birth, 2011 has already seen the publication of a book, the release of a documentary film, and the preparation of an exhibit and a variety of competitions. It is telling that, in the organizers’ view, this series of commemorative events would not have been complete without the erection of a monument (the monument should be open and accessible for a large number of people, remaining after the celebrations in the everyday urban space as a special symbolic form that expresses respect for the past).
In Buriatia a different group initiated a proposal for a memorial to Genghis Khan, who, according to legend, was born in the republic’s Aghin region (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2803). The official letter of request for the construction of the monument was sent to Moscow, to Dendev Badarch, director of the Russian bureau of UNESCO. Buddhist ritual prayers for the dead have been held at the ostensible site of the Great Khan’s birth since 2009. Individuals representing a broad swath of the population (including educational and cultural workers, as well as veterans) took part in the discussion and development of sketches for the memorial. The joyous preparations were, however, brought to a close by the local government’s refusal to allow the monument’s construction on account of foreign policy considerations (namely in order to not sour relations with neighboring China). The public’s “particularist” mood was smoothed over by local officials, who stamped out possible conflict in advance, with the authorities in Moscow, as with China.
The next example illustrates how a monument can reflect efforts to deescalate disagreements over a hero’s ethnic heritage. In Eisk in late December 2011, a monument appeared honoring wrestler Ivan Poddubny, a Ukrainian by descent, who spent part of his life living in Russia. Poddubny’s nationality remains a subject of debate between Ukraine and Russia. Aleksandr Karelin, who spoke at the monument’s opening, explicitly ascribed “Russian” nationality to Poddubny, while, at the same time, the monument’s inscription bears the laconic and evasive formulation: “To the champion of champions in honor of his 140th birthday, from grateful followers” (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2769).
These examples appear to demonstrate the dual function of memorials: On the one hand, they are called upon to be instruments of national politics, and, on the other hand, we find in their inscriptions and in discussions about their construction reflections of arguments that are taking place outside the walls of commemorative commissions. An effort to emphasize a region’s national particularity may give way to the “more important” ideology of a united country, or it can be smoothed over, lose its sharpness, in the light of concerns about the importance of positive neighborly relations.
The Region’s Connection to the Grand Narrative
The following examples demonstrate how memorial politics are used to solve the problem of spreading a common ideology among the regions.
Memorials financed and approved by the federal center, rather than local authorities, function as a typical mechanism in politics of this type. The ideas expressed in such a monument diametrically oppose particularism, as the monument aims not to highlight the uniqueness of a region, but to connect it with the grand narrative of Russian history. Thus, in January, a federal long-term grant program for the preservation and development of the native peoples of the North funded the creation of a monument to members of WWII reindeer battalion, later also paying for the monument’s transport from Smolensk to Naryan-Mar, the administrative center of the Nenets Autonomous Region (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2891). This object became the city’s second war memorial, following the 2010 erection of a monument to the Yak-7B fighter jet, which was paid for with donations from the city’s residents. The memorials of Naryan-Mar demonstrate how the myth of the war can actively acquire an integrating function in the context of a multinational state.
In January, Stavropol witnessed the opening of a copy of an old stele that had once stood in the city (the old stele had been demolished in 2006, on the grounds that it was out of date). The new stele, somewhat paradoxically, was opened on the 69th anniversary of the liberation of the city from German forces, although it was, in fact, dedicated to the heroes of Stavropol who participated in the defense of Moscow (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2861).
We find another example in the opening of the “Flag of the Cruiser Varyag” memorial in Tula (Admiral V.F. Rudnev, commander of the Russian squadron in the Battle of Chemulpo Bay, was a native of the city) (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2825). Celebratory speeches at the opening noted Tula’s residents’ special contribution to the Russo-Japanese war. In this case, it is noteworthy that Tula recently acquired a Rudnev memorial museum, frequently hosts “Rudnev readings” and events connected with the memory of the events of 1904, and was already home to one memorial to the Rear Admiral.
What are the motives behind the creation of a new monument, which simply adds to a long list of similar objects and does not appear to alter in any way the established mode of expressing a relationship to the past? Does the appearance of another monument in Tula reflect the city’s especially deep reverence for the history of the Russo-Japanese war? Does the restored stele correspond to the meaning of the events it commemorates as they exist in the historical consciousness of Stavropol’s residents?
The Cost of Memorials — Monetary and Symbolic
Significantly, the budgets and programs that fund new monuments are not intended to analyze the effectiveness of such spending (and, therefore, do not answer the questions posed above). It is worthwhile to now turn to a government program titled Patriotic Education of the Citizens of the Russian Federation, 2011-2015 (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/learning/edu/1370) – which possesses a budget of millions of rubles – in order to demonstrate how direct project developers believe the effect of the given measures to be: The planned events (festivals, celebrations, etc.) are anticipated to “educate students about the glorious events of the country’s history,” “foster a caring, considerate attitude to older generations of Russian citizens,” “preserve the memory of victory in the Soviet wars,” etc.
It so happens that the construction of new memorials in the regions (although this is not financed out of the aforementioned program) follows a similar logic: the very expenses for opening a new memorial sign, their high cost
bind decision-makers to the project of raising patriotic consciousness among the city’s residents. It’s as though it is both necessary and possible to develop and deepen this consciousness mechanically, spending money “on the past,” doing an allocation according to the relevant articles. In some ways, this approach to cultural development is comparable to other areas of social policy. The government’s high profits, which are not connected with the growth of the real economy, create a situation in which sufficient funds can be found for any project that does not raise doubts (“the development of public health services/education” / “fostering love for the motherland”), without worrying about the effectiveness of the spending. This aside, despite the principle of competition, the choice most often falls to the contractor, the friendly agency that provides the financing (in the case of memorials it often leads to ignoring the principles of the open competition for plans, and turning over the commission to one’s “own” sculptor). Responses from those who serve as the target of all this action are not taken into consideration. The goals of producing memorials become declarative; otherwise, we would necessarily anticipate considerably more attention to be paid to the reactions and opinions of the city’s residents, and a greater variety of experts being enlisted to realize of cultural goals (“to call up the memory of the past,” “to evoke surprise/delight at the history of one’s homeland”).
Language and Genre
It is no accident, as we noted at the outset, that memorials represent one of the most popular forms of commemoration. As a genre, they are traditional and, also as a genre – in their creation and opening, the regular laying of flowers, etc. – they demand creative reflection neither from those who commission and create them, nor, unfortunately, from their viewers. In this context, we draw attention to the great number of standard steles that have appeared in Russia in recent years (such as the architecturally identical steles in the “cities of military glory” – see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2721; http://urokiistorii.ru/2142) and the “Ribbon of Glory” project (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2674). Such generic memorials are intended to bind several different places together through their common history, while also discouraging the creation of individual and unique sites for memory.
Insofar as memorials cannot appear without numerous bureaucratic agreements, the “clients” and stylistic directors of historical politics in Russia are more frequently state authorities than professional societies of historians, artists, and museum specialists. This results in “top-down” memorial forms being very familiar and routine.
This tendency is reflected in the silent rejection of designs that employ new forms. Aside from the examples we’ve already discussed – those connected with the construction of generic memorial signs or the reconstruction of the Stavropol stele – we also find an interesting story in the memorial to a fallen security official that was erected in January in Chita. The memorial’s author expressed the torment of his creative explorations in the eloquent phrase: “To create hero sitting or standing – it’s not clear” (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2892). It is obvious that, in the sculptor’s eyes, there can be no other alternatives in designing the Chita memorial, commissioned as it was by the MVD (Ministry of Internal Affairs – trans.). This case reveals the limitedness of the repertoire of sculptural forms and means of expression.
In January 2012, the MVD began work on a Russia-wide register of memorials to security officials killed in hot spots (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2818).
The Memorial and the Viewer
Against the backdrop of ever-multiplying sculptural objects in Russian cities and villages, a proposal put forth by Chelyabinsk museum workers and the head of the regional ministry of culture, appears timely and fresh. They propose to not construct new monuments, but to resolve the question of old memorials. Specifically, they have suggested moving the city’s existing Lenin memorials to a special location, where they would all be open to visitors (see: urokiistorii.ru/2886), thus creating a kind of sculpture museum, which would repeat the experience of a host of post-Soviet museums, from the Moscow Muzeon to the Grutas in Lithuania. This proposal was made on the grounds that “the political course has changed and already city holidays appear absurd, taking place at the base of a memorial to the former leader,” as well as in response to local residents reactions to the memorial. In recent years all five of the city’s Lenin memorials have been splattered with paint and feces, and their pedestals have been chipped away.
Similarly, authorities in neighboring Perm will soon also need to respond in some manner to the locals’ efforts to destroy Soviet monuments – just in January alone the northern capital of the Urals saw the memorial plaques stolen from three different memorials (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2864). These and similar
Scholars of culture and museum experts in the West have much to say about the tasks standing before those designing today’s memorial spaces. In particular, Julian Spalding, who first articulated the notion of a “poetic museum,” has stated:
“The challenge museums now face is to see themselves no longer as sole purveyors of the truth, but as seekers after truth on a journey they share with their visitors. When they do this, their whole scope of operation broadens and they become genuinely inclusive once again.”
Spalding J., The Poetic Museum: Reviving Historic Collections (Munich, London, New York, 2002), 25.
It appears that Spalding’s words might, on the same level, apply to today’s memorials: these memorials must give the visitor more stimulation for “work” and reflection, they must draw the observer into a process of semantic exploration.
It is important to take into consideration how the focus of historical interest shifts within a culture. As a result of such changes, the attention of today’s viewers is drawn less to heroes’ deeds and moral imperatives, and more to examples from the lives of ordinary people. In this situation, we are dealing with a view of history that no longer embraces a “bottom-up” perspective, even if it does not necessarily place viewers on equal footing with historical actors. In the USA and Europe, those designing new museum exhibits and architectural memorials sites consider the importance of feelings of empathy, as well as interest in the history of the everyday. At the same time, cases drawn from Russian historical politics, which have been noted by the editors of the monitoring project, more often than not bear witness to the fact that memorials of this type are very rare in Russia. This presupposes the limited nature of interactions with these unwanted, uninteresting objects: the viewer either takes part in the traditional rituals,
The Memorial and Problem Areas in Historical Politics
The majority of the memorials discussed here are apparently consensual, arousing neither debate nor conflict. This can be explained by the fact that the during the course of a project’s planning and execution, possible conflicts are considered and dealt with in advance (as happened in Buriatia with the abandoned memorial to Genghis Khan or in Eisk with the formulation of a politically correct inscription for the monument to Poddubny).
Examples of heated arguments suggest that some flaws exist in the finely-tuned mechanism of memorial politics, while drawing attention to the sites of most tension within this struggle for the right to make appraisals in the name of the majority.
Once such conflict has taken place in Rostov Oblast at the Zmievskaya Balka memorial complex, where controversy was sparked by the replacement of an inscription describing the massacre of more than 27 thousand Jews at the site in August 1942 (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2874). The plaque’s alteration immediately attracted the attention of the Russian Jewish community, which is quite united, particularly in its relationship to questions of memory and responsibility to the past. For this reason, the disappearance of the inscription and its subsequent move to a location within the memorial complex could not be a part of routine museum procedure, accepted by local residents in silence. The changes carried out in the memorial space, which were “financed exclusively by the city budget” and “without the participation of social organizations,” gave rise to a series of extended discussions and even court proceedings. There were two key outcomes: first, both sides publicly discussed the most painful problems connected with memorialization in Russia of the victims of the war and the Holocaust, and, second, both sides agreed on the possibility of compromising on a resolution to the situation. Thus, in August 2012, Rostov-on-the-Don hosted the First International Forum on the Memory of the Holocaust and the Victims of Fascism in Russia (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/3436, http://urokiistorii.ru/51378), timed to coincide with the 70th anniversary of the shooting at Zmievskaya Balka. The organizers intend for this conference to serve as a forum for discussing the conflict discussed here.
January also provided an example of a flaw in the practice of creating monuments that touches on attempts at cultural expansion into the territory of a neighboring state: the Russian Ministry of Culture’s plan to present Ukraine with a memorial to Petr Stolypin (see: http://urokiistorii.ru/2904). After 2011’s formal ceremonies in Kiev, which marked the 100th anniversary of Stolypin’s assassination, Russia’s Ministry of Culture proposed erecting a memorial to the imperial prime minister in the Ukrainian capital, justifying this decision on the grounds that it is necessary to “strengthen fraternal relations between Ukraine and Russia.” On the Ukrainian side, the proposal met an extremely negative reception: the idea to “gift Ukraine with a monument to a person who brought so much harm to Ukraine” was seen in Kiev “as a provocation or at least a poorly thought-out action.” The Russian side, not hearing and not wanting to hear protestations from Kiev, exacerbated the conflict by stating:
“… Ukrainian National Democrats think too primitively in order to understand, and they behave no better than the Bolsheviks, who decided which memorials did or did not need to be installed” (the director of the Ukrainian affiliate of the Institute of CIS Countries).
This example lays bare the conservatism and inflexibility often inherent in Russian cultural politics, its declarativity and inclination to use pretty words to mask statements that fall wide of their mark, and, finally, its deafness, its inability to understand the opinion of the other side. Questions about Russia’s foreign policy claims and relationships with other countries in the sphere of the battle for the past are similarly examined in the report on November 2011 (see: «Борьба с фантомом: «Миф о войне» во внешней и внутренней политике России»).
Index of News for January 2012
- Preparation for celebrations commemorating the Battle of Borodino: http://urokiistorii.ru/2836; urokiistorii.ru/2812; urokiistorii.ru/2847; urokiistorii.ru/2885.
- Debates among Russia, Ukraine, and Belorussia regarding history textbooks’ presentation of their common past: urokiistorii.ru/2840; urokiistorii.ru/2846.
- Memorials and urban onomastics – Soviet nostalgia vs. the rejection of communism’s legacy: urokiistorii.ru/2830; urokiistorii.ru/2845; urokiistorii.ru/2816.
- The anniversary of the founding of the General Prosecutor’s Office of the Russian Federation: urokiistorii.ru/2813.
- Abandoned monuments: urokiistorii.ru/2842; urokiistorii.ru/2884.
- The proposal for the Year of Russian History: urokiistorii.ru/2814; urokiistorii.ru/2804.
- Initiatives “from below,” experiencing history through personal practice: urokiistorii.ru/2859; urokiistorii.ru/2800.
Translated by Adrianne Jacobs
