Russia has a very rich cultural history, and its museums have played an important role in the country. Here, Tim Brinkhof considers how Russia’s museums helped bring down one dictatorship only to build up another.
Soviet troops by the portico of the Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg (then Leningrad) during the Siege of Leningrad in 1943.
One of the most shocking museum exhibits to ever take place in Russia was about…underwear. “Memory of the Body: Underwear of the Soviet Era” opened at the City History Museum in St. Petersburg in 2000, offering an intimate look at life under communism by way of bras and boxers. Protests from embarrassed officials reinforced the curators’ message: that socialist prudishness survived the fall of the USSR itself.
There is more to museum exhibits than meets the eye. This is true everywhere, but especially in countries obsessed with (or haunted by) their own history. They not only preserve cultural memories from the past, but also reveal how that culture wishes to be perceived in the present. A change in exhibits, writes German historian Karl Schlögel in his newly translated book The Soviet Century: Archaeology of a Lost World, means “an alteration has taken place, a revision, a revaluation or a change in perspective.” Numerous revaluations happened inside Russia’s museums over the past century, and – when viewed in succession – they mirror the transformations of Russian society at large.
Bolsheviks
When the Bolsheviks took charge in 1917, they didn’t know what do with museums. According to his wife, Vladimir Lenin “was no great lover” of them, seeing them for what they arguably were at that point: trophy rooms of the fallen elite. Instead of disbanding museums, however, the revolutionaries opted to organize exhibits of their own.
For better or worse, Russia’s museum culture was reimagined along socialist lines. For better, because the Communist Party took collections from Saint Petersburg and Moscow and redistributed them across the countryside in an effort to decentralize cultural goods. (“This,” Schlögel writes, “is how masterpieces by Boris Kustodiev or Kazimir Malevich can still be found in remote locations where no one would ever expect to find them.”) For worse, because museums became places not of learning, but indoctrination. There were exhibits about atheism, railways, the Great Patriotic War, but not the Terror or the Holodomor. These topics were removed from museums, just as they were removed from schools.
Where Nikita Khrushchev’s denunciation of Joseph Stalin permitted criticism of Stalinism in particular, Mikhail Gorbachev’s perestroika policies of the mid-1980s normalized criticism of the Soviet system in general. A “Ten Years Khrushchev” exhibit in Moscow’s Komsomol'skiy Prospekt confronted visitors with their own, uncensored past, from daily life inside the kommunalka or communal apartments, to the return of inmates from Stalin’s gulags. Many exhibits from this period featured objects from mass graves which were, at long last, allowed to be opened up.
Post-Soviet era
Of all chapters in the history of Russian museums, the one situated between the USSR’s collapse and the country’s return to contentious order under the Russian Federation is the foggiest. Dwindling political and financial security led to a boom in antiques smuggling, just as it had in 1917. Many museums were closed, while others issued massive layoffs. As Christianity returned to Russia, so did calls to convert locations like Petersburg’s St. Isaac’s Cathedral (turned into a museum by Bolsheviks) back into churches. On the other side of the spectrum was the progressive “Memory of the Body” exhibit, which had visitors giggling at how uncomfortable and unsexy their state-issued undergarments used to be.
Museums in Vladimir Putin’s Russia heavily resemble their Soviet counterparts. Not just in their choice of subject – exhibits applaud military campaigns in Afghanistan and Chechnya while museums dedicated to LGBTQ history are closed – but also in their approach. Rather than letting visitors loose and allowing them to draw their own conclusions from the exhibits, as they are in western countries, Russian museums have – as Schlögel’s puts it – “an order of their own, much like that of old-time school textbooks, so that whoever follows the narrative line cannot really go astray. They follow the red threat and at the end of the trail, having successfully negotiated all the vicissitudes and dangers, arrive at an end point, which is indispensable in any historical narrative.”
Under the Communist Party, this narrative was Marxism: the preordained process of dialectic materialism that guided humanity from prehistory to feudalism to capitalism and finally, following the USSR’s example, towards communism. Under Putin, Marxism has been replaced by a new narrative of Russian exceptionalism, in which the proudly illiberal country – a civilization onto its own – is destined to become the world’s one and only superpower. It is, as historian Ian Garner shows in his new book Z Generation: Into the Heart of Russia's Fascist Youth, a narrative full of inconsistences and contradictions, but which – thanks to state-owned television, social media, and museums – is accepted by a frightening number of Russian citizens.
What do you think of Russian museum culture? Let us know below.
