T14 - The culture of ‘totalitarian’ order

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: Who wrote the essay ‘The New Man in Stalinist Russia and Nazi Germany’ and in which book was it published?

Peter Fritzsche and Jochen Hellbeck wrote the essay, published in Beyond Totalitarianism: Stalinism and Nazism Compared, edited by Michael Geyer and Sheila Fitzpatrick, Cambridge, 2009.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: What central argument do Fritzsche and Hellbeck make about the "New Man" in Stalinist Russia and Nazi Germany?

Both regimes sought to remake humanity through science, discipline, and state-directed transformation. Stalinist Russia envisioned a universal, classless Communist New Man, while Nazi Germany aimed for an Aryan racial New Man. Both rejected liberal individualism, embracing illiberal modernity rooted in coercion and collectivism rather than freedom and rights.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: How do Fritzsche and Hellbeck situate the regimes’ ideas of the New Man historically?

They reject the Cold War totalitarian paradigm, tracing both to intellectual prehistories including the French and Industrial Revolutions, 19th-century utopian socialism, and fin-de-siècle vitalism. Both arose as post-Enlightenment responses to crises of modernity and the belief that human nature could be remade.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: Which French Revolution figures are mentioned as foundational to the concept of human remoulding?

Edmund Burke (1790), who condemned revolutionary upheaval, and Maximilien Robespierre, who argued revolutionary government required entirely new principles. The Revolution’s radical break from inherited norms inspired the idea that humanity could be transformed.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: How did the Industrial Revolution contribute to the New Man idea in the 19th century?

Technological, scientific, and medical advances encouraged belief in human perfectibility. Social hygiene and eugenic movements aimed to improve society biologically and socially. These initiatives were disciplinary, seeking to “renovate” society rather than liberate it.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: What role did fin-de-siècle youth movements like Germany’s Wandervogel play in the New Man concept?

They rejected bourgeois rationalism in favor of spiritual renewal and communal authenticity. Though marginal, they preserved the idea of a transformative New Man before socialism’s Second International largely abandoned utopian anthropology by 1914.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: Which Russian intellectuals were key in developing the New Man idea before the 20th century?

Vissarion Belinskii and Nikolai Chernyshevsky, who used literature as a tool for social transformation. Chernyshevsky’s novel What Is to Be Done?

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: How did Lenin engage with Chernyshevsky’s New Man ideas?

In What Is to Be Done?

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: How did Marx himself conceptualise the future human in communism?

Labour would become “free conscious activity,” remaking humanity “according to the laws of beauty,” reflecting a romantic-utopian idealism. Stalin later revived this dimension, presenting socialism as humanity’s historical culmination and birth of a new species.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: Which writer most vividly embodied the Stalinist New Man, and what were his key ideas?

Maxim Gorky fused rationalism, heroism, and collectivism. He promoted self-discipline, service to the collective, and the ideal of the “MAN with capital letters.” Influenced by Nietzschean vitalism, he glorified life as a force propelling humanity forward.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: How did Stalin institutionalise the New Man concept?

Through “engineers of the human soul”—writers, teachers, propagandists—tasked with shaping rational, disciplined Soviet citizens. Factories, not salons, became the sites of transformation, emphasizing collective identity over individuality.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: What historical events shaped the Nazi New Man, and how did war contribute?

WWI total war trauma forged a militarised anthropology, glorified by Carl Schmitt and Ernst Jünger. Soldiers and aviators were described as “machine-men” with iron nerves. Jünger’s works In Stahlgewittern (1920), Copse 125 (1925), and Der Arbeiter (1932) celebrated this elite as fearless, disciplined, and heroic.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: How did the Nazi New Man differ ethically from the Soviet New Man?

Nazi Germany emphasized racial purity, martial prowess, and service to the Aryan Volksgemeinschaft, while Soviet Russia emphasized universal, historicist transformation and spiritual-intellectual cultivation.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: Which mechanisms in Nazi Germany enforced the creation of the New Man?

Mass propaganda (Neues Volk, “Was ist Rasse?

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: How did Soviet citizens participate in becoming the New Man?

Through moral education, self-discipline, ideological conviction, confession, diaries, and participation in collective labour. Key figures like Kirillov, Gastev, and Vertov exemplified industrial, mechanised modernity, while Stalinist projects like the Belomor Canal coerced labourers into moral transformation.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: Name literary works that exemplified the Soviet New Man and their authors.

Two Captains by Veniamin Kaverin and Young Guard by Alexander Fadeev. They portrayed idealised protagonists exemplifying discipline, collectivism, and moral self-mastery.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: Who exemplifies the aspirational pursuit of the Soviet New Man in daily life?

Leonid Potemkin, a miner’s son turned Party official, who modelled himself on mythic proletarian ideals, striving to surpass historical figures and educate others in socialist virtue, showing the utopian impossibility of constant revolutionary fervor.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: How did postwar crises shape the New Man in both regimes?

In Germany, the trauma of 1914–18 militarised the body and promoted racial consciousness. In Russia, Bolsheviks saw 1917 as a turning point in human self-creation, promoting moral and ideological transformation through industrialization, collectivisation, and war.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: How did Soviet and Nazi approaches to the New Man differ in practice during WWII?

Soviets emphasized spiritual-intellectual mastery and historical progress, as promoted by Ilya Ehrenburg. Nazis emphasized physical discipline, racial loyalty, and genocidal execution of the unfit, especially on the Eastern Front.

Fritzsche and Hellbeck: What commonalities did both regimes share regarding the New Man?

Both rejected liberal individualism, emphasised collectivism, self-overcoming, and ideological discipline, sought to transcend the old world, and legitimised violence as necessary for creating a new human type, making the New Man a symbol of illiberal modernity.

Clark and Schlögel: Who authored ‘Mutual Perceptions and Projections: Stalin’s Russia in Nazi Germany - Nazi Germany in the Soviet Union’ and where was it published?

Katerina Clark and Karl Schlögel wrote it. It appears in Beyond Totalitarianism: Stalinism and Nazism Compared, edited by Michael Geyer and Sheila Fitzpatrick, published by Cambridge University Press in 2009. The essay examines the mutual perceptions, projections, and ideological constructions between Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia.

Clark and Schlögel: What symbolic event in 1937 exemplified the visual confrontation between Nazi Germany and the USSR?

The 1937 Paris International Exposition (World’s Fair). The German and Soviet pavilions stood opposite each other, creating a “silent dialogue” of power, ideology, and aesthetics. Albert Speer designed the German pavilion; Boris Iofan designed the Soviet pavilion, topped with Vera Mukhina’s sculpture Worker and Collective Farm Woman.

Clark and Schlögel: How did the architecture of Speer and Iofan reflect totalitarian ideology?

Both architects were trained in classical traditions and rejected modernism. Speer’s pavilion showcased the eagle and swastika, symbolizing racial and national supremacy. Iofan’s pavilion displayed the hammer and sickle and celebrated labor and collectivism. Both emphasised monumentalism, order, unity, and strength, projecting the regimes’ claims to power.

Clark and Schlögel: How do Clark and Schlögel describe the conceptual relationship between Nazi Germany and Stalinist USSR?

Each regime constructed the other as an “imagined enemy” to define itself, mobilise society, and articulate fears, desires, and ambitions. Mutual perceptions were not mirror images but complex ideological projections shaped by history, culture, and propaganda.

Clark and Schlögel: How do the authors situate these perceptions in a broader historical context?

They reject Cold War-era “totalitarian twin” paradigms. Instead, Nazi and Soviet perceptions must be understood within the European crisis of modernity, encompassing war, revolution, social transformation, and intellectual currents from 1917–1989. Comparative analysis should focus on interactions, exchanges, and shared intellectual and aesthetic traditions.

Clark and Schlögel: What gaps in historiography do Clark and Schlögel identify regarding Nazi perceptions of Russia?

Despite studies on political, military, and cultural links, there is no systematic study of how Nazi Germany mentally mapped the Soviet Union—through propaganda, education, or everyday discourse. They call for a “modern Orientalism” approach, tracing the ideological positioning of Russia in German thought.

Clark and Schlögel: How was “Russian space” imagined by Germans between the late 19th century and the Nazi period?

As a mythic, boundless territory:
A colonial opportunity (an eastern “India” for Germany).
A threat (e.g., Napoleon’s failed invasion).
After 1941–42, a tainted, disease-ridden wasteland.
This spatial imagination intertwined opportunity, fear, and racial ideology.

Clark and Schlögel: What personality traits were Germans believed to attribute to Russians?

The “Russian soul” combined tenderness, religiosity, primitive nobility, stoicism, brutality, and capacity for suffering. Russians were often framed as non-European or semi-Asiatic. Initially ambivalent, these traits became racialized under Nazi ideology.

Clark and Schlögel: How did politicised images of Russia manifest in Nazi rhetoric?

Russia was depicted as a “shaky colossus” with immense human and material resources but poor elite competence and rational organization. The population was recast as manipulable “masses,” and Bolshevism was depicted as dominated by Jews, creating the propagandistic “Jewish face” of Soviet power.

Clark and Schlögel: What historical and cultural influences shaped German perceptions of Russia?

They drew on:
Romantic admiration for Slavic authenticity.
German cultural theories and colonial analogies.
Post-WWI resentments and revisionist politics.
Direct experience from veterans, Freikorps men, émigrés, and industrial/military networks, which created first-hand impressions of Russia.

Clark and Schlögel: Why was Berlin central in shaping German perceptions of the USSR in the 1920s–30s?

Berlin functioned as a “high-density contact zone” hosting exiles, artists, industrialists, diplomats, intelligence networks, and scholars. This dynamic public sphere allowed German perceptions of the USSR to fluctuate between romantic Russophilia and paranoid anti-Soviet conspiracy, and influenced domestic politics directly.

Clark and Schlögel: How did Nazi ideology transform older German stereotypes of Russia?

Older stereotypes (Russians as stubborn, collectivized, or natural men) were radicalized into racist doctrine. Slavs were deemed Untermenschen, legitimizing mass killings, starvation, and the genocidal policies of the Eastern Front. However, sentimental tropes were occasionally revived when military or political expediency required it.

Clark and Schlögel: How did the Soviet Union construct an image of Nazi Germany in the 1930s?

Initially economic: fascism as capitalism’s last resort. By the mid-1930s, focus shifted to moral/cultural critique: Nazi Germany rejected reason, culture, and textual literacy in favor of blood, race, and orality. The USSR positioned itself as rational, humanist, and the heir to European civilization.

Clark and Schlögel: Which Soviet intellectuals shaped perceptions of Nazi Germany?

Karl Radek, Mikhail Koltsov, and Ilya Ehrenburg (many purged later) contributed analyses and propaganda, often through German-language exile publications in Moscow, blending Soviet and transnational antifascist perspectives.

Clark and Schlögel: How did literature reinforce Soviet portrayals of Nazi Germany?

Through texts like Lion Feuchtwanger’s The Oppermanns (1933), book burnings, and the Reichstag Fire Trial (1933) where Georgi Dimitrov humiliated Hermann Göring. Literature was framed as a moral weapon against fascist barbarism; writers were conceptualized as cultural warriors.

Clark and Schlögel: What was the significance of the 1935 Paris Congress for the Defense of Culture?

Organized with Soviet support, it united European writers and intellectuals to defend “culture and humanism” against fascist barbarism. While avoiding overt partisanship, it reinforced the USSR’s claim to moral and cultural leadership in Europe.

Clark and Schlögel: How did the 1937 Paris Exposition reflect Nazi–Soviet cultural rivalry?

The Nazi pavilion was taller, but the USSR claimed ideological superiority through literature and intellectual culture. Soviet publishers reissued German classics to assert themselves as custodians of European civilization, contrasting Nazi anti-intellectualism and book burnings.

Clark and Schlögel: How did Soviet propaganda contrast German militarism with Soviet humanism?

Writers like Radek and Koltsov highlighted Nazi fascination with mythic figures (e.g., Wotan) and orality, arguing true power lay in reason, philosophy, and textual literacy. The USSR positioned itself as a rational, culturally advanced society.

Clark and Schlögel: How did the Popular Front era influence Soviet cultural policy?

It promoted a transnational antifascist “cult of Europe,” emphasizing European literature and humanism. French and German humanist writers, such as Romain Rolland (Jean-Christophe) and Heinrich Mann (Henri Quatre), were celebrated in Soviet translations.

Clark and Schlögel: How did mutual Nazi–Soviet portrayals evolve after 1937 and 1939?

After 1937 purges, Soviet portrayals of Nazi Germany simplified. Post-1939 Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact, negative depictions largely vanished, though memory of the Spanish Civil War persisted. After 1941, Nazis were recast as cannibalistic invaders, while some Soviet intellectuals mourned Europe’s “rape,” reflecting tensions between nationalism and international antifascism.

Clark and Schlögel: What is the overarching argument of Clark and Schlögel regarding mutual Nazi–Soviet perceptions?

Both regimes used cultural symbols and ideology to define themselves against the other: Nazis through race and blood, Soviets through literature and civilization. Their portrayals were products of intertwined historical, cultural, and intellectual legacies shaped by European crises, rather than simply propaganda opposites.

Föllmer: How did German culture under the Third Reich in the mid-1930s combine different influences, according to Moritz Föllmer?

German culture combined völkisch ethnic nationalist ideas, dictatorial interventions, and bourgeois and modern influences, producing a distinctive cultural landscape. While some embraced this synthesis, dissidents often attempted alternative cultural engagement via underground networks or exile, constrained by regime surveillance and the appeal of völkisch-popular-bourgeois culture promoted by National Socialism.

Föllmer: What role did Joseph Goebbels play in cultural politics in the Third Reich?

As Minister for Popular Enlightenment and Propaganda, Goebbels combined personal engagement with administrative control. In January 1935, he attended Wagner’s Tristan at the Deutsche Oper and Shakespeare’s King Lear at the Staatstheater, praising both and attributing their quality to the Nazi revolution. He controlled stage directions, set theatre guidelines, censored films deemed ideologically harmful, and expanded responsibilities to include the Berlin Philharmonic and other performance venues.

Föllmer: How did Goebbels relate to Hitler in shaping cultural policy?

Goebbels admired Hitler as a visionary blending artistic intuition with political leadership, as reflected in his 1935 Nuremberg Party Rally diary entries. Hitler deliberately kept Goebbels uncertain of full support, prompting Goebbels to assert initiative and loyalty. This dynamic shaped his cultural interventions and rivalry with Alfred Rosenberg, whose radical völkisch purism Goebbels found obstructive.

Föllmer: What was the Reich Chamber of Culture, and what purpose did it serve?

Established in November 1933 with Hitler’s support against Robert Ley, it centralized control over the cultural sector while nominally granting artists autonomy. Initially, figures like Richard Strauss participated, allowing some latitude for atonal music and experimentation, though ideological conformity increased after 1935, particularly in cabaret, music hall, and theatre.

Föllmer: How did rivalries among Nazi leaders shape cultural policy?

Robert Ley, Hermann Göring, and Bernhard Rust competed for prestige and influence. Institutions like Strength through Joy (KdF) organized cultural events: by 1938, it held ~12,000 opera performances, 20,000 theatre performances, 11,000 variety shows, 5,000 concerts, and sold 54 million tickets. The system allowed upward mobility for musicians like Herbert von Karajan while punishing dissenters.

Föllmer: How did authors navigate censorship under the Third Reich?

Some adapted works to regime expectations: Hans Fallada wrote Wolf Among Wolves (1937), critical of the Weimar Republic, and Iron Gustav, endorsing Nazi rule. Others, like Gottfried Benn, Carl Schmitt, Martin Heidegger, faced professional setbacks, while Ernst Wiechert was arrested in 1938 and sent to Buchenwald for public criticism.

Föllmer: What challenges did prominent musicians face under the regime?

Wilhelm Furtwängler defended Paul Hindemith in 1934 but faced hostility from radical völkisch factions and Goebbels. Hindemith emigrated in 1938 after bans on his work, whereas Carl Orff avoided censure. Cultural engagement projected regime authority, with leaders attending exhibitions and performances to reward loyal artists and demonstrate prestige.

Föllmer: How did Hitler use art to project personal and political authority?

In 1938, Hitler purchased 202 works for 582,000 Reichsmarks. Leaders such as Göring, Goebbels, and Ribbentrop used art to assert status, influence, and loyalty hierarchies. The regime also leveraged monumental architecture and art exhibitions to legitimize authority and reinforce ideological control.

Föllmer: Which cultural forms dominated German public life despite the visibility of radical völkisch aesthetics?

Bourgeois tastes prevailed: works by Dürer, Spitzweg, Böcklin, plays by Schiller, Shakespeare, music by Beethoven, Verdi, and Wagner’s operas were emphasized. Open-air Thingspiele largely failed to gain mass appeal. Radio broadcasts and testimonies, such as Elisabeth Gebensleben-von Alten’s enthusiasm for Bayreuth, show widespread consumption and legitimization of approved culture.

Föllmer: How did Nazi culture combine continuity with Weimar traditions?

Existing theatre bosses, conductors, and museum directors largely continued post-1933 but with generous financial support. Avant-garde forms like Brecht’s epic theatre or Schönberg’s twelve-tone music were banned. Institutions like Strength through Joy connected culture directly to the public, and Goebbels monitored productions subtly, e.g., advising the Leipzig Gewandhaus conductor to play more Beethoven.

Föllmer: What role did cinema play in Nazi cultural policy?

Films provided normality, cohesion, and aspirational modernity. Heinz Rühmann starred in films like Allotria (1936), The Model Husband (1937), Five Million in Search of an Heir (1938), embodying the “little man”: morally upright, moderately ambitious, and loyal to family and nation. Stars like Hans Albers, Marika Rökk, Zarah Leander offered fantasies that normalized Nazi ideology while remaining relatable.

Föllmer: How did radio shape German cultural life?

Under Goebbels, radio broadcasts included entertainment, sports commentary, jazz (despite Nazi disdain), and interactive features. The “people’s wireless” doubled ownership compared to the Weimar Republic, reaching 57% of households by the outbreak of war. Affordable mass media linked technological modernity with national belonging.

Föllmer: How did leisure and tourism support cultural policy?

The Strength through Joy program, modeled on Italy’s Opera Nazionale Dopolavoro, offered holidays, cruises, and sports to middle-class Germans and skilled workers. By September 1935, it was widely recognized as providing opportunities previously unavailable, blending enjoyment with ideological messaging. Leisure also extended to cinema, reading, beer, Coca-Cola, photography, and travel.

Föllmer: How did the Third Reich project economic and technological achievements culturally?

Autobahn construction, the Volkswagen, and technical expertise in military and scientific fields linked modernity, national pride, and preparedness for war. Kaiser Wilhelm Society researchers, physicists like Philipp Lenard and Johannes Stark, and chemists aligned with military needs, subordinating ideology (e.g., anti-Jewish physics) to practical military utility.

Föllmer: What role did Albert Speer play in Nazi architecture and cultural symbolism?

Appointed General Building Inspector for the Reich Capital in January 1937, Speer (born Mannheim, 1905) designed major projects including Leopold Palace, Tempelhof Field, Nuremberg Party Rally grounds, and the German pavilion at the 1937 Paris Exhibition. He combined neoclassicism with modernist experimentation to project permanence and monumental ideology. Labor increasingly relied on concentration camp inmates.

Föllmer: What were Speer’s plans for Germania?

Plans included North and South Stations connected by a north–south axis of government buildings, a triumphal arch, expansion of Museum Island, a Great Hall for 150,000 with a 300-metre dome, and an east–west axis. Although never realized, the plans had immediate consequences: trees felled, streets widened, Victory Column relocated, tenements demolished, and Jewish residents evicted.

Föllmer: How did monumental architecture intersect with militarization and imperial ambitions?

Commemorations like Elk Eber’s The Last Hand Grenade, films such as Shock Troop and Operation Michael, and historical exhibitions glorified war and colonial ambitions. Reich Colonial Association (1 million members) promoted propaganda about Africa. Scholars like Franz Petri (1937) and Werner Conze (1938) supported territorial revisionism, laying völkisch foundations for East Central Europe dominance.

Föllmer: How did Nazi cultural and imperialist outreach operate abroad by the late 1930s?

German literature was promoted via subsidized exports and cultural treaties with Hungary, Spain, Japan, Bulgaria, Slovakia, and Romania, strengthening influence among authoritarian regimes and German minorities. Italy and Japan’s independence aspirations complicated relations, while Japanese expansion in China (1937) served as a model for German imperial ambitions.

Plamper: When and how did the Stalin cult formally emerge, according to Jan Plamper?

The Stalin cult emerged dramatically on 21 December 1929, Stalin’s fiftieth birthday. Pravda devoted eight pages to glorifying him as Lenin’s heir, the organizer of Soviet industrialization, and a theoretician of Marxism-Leninism. This was orchestrated with tributes from Party elites and foreign communists, after a period when Stalin had been portrayed modestly alongside other Bolsheviks.

Plamper: What role did Pravda play in the construction of the Stalin cult?

Pravda became the key vehicle for Stalin’s image, both visually and verbally, across a growing readership. By 1930, it had a circulation of 1 million. Stalin controlled editorial direction from 1924, first through Nikolai Bukharin, then via loyal editors like Lev Mekhlis. Stalin personally vetted articles and photographs, often through his secretary Poskryobyshev, ensuring every mention of him was approved or retouched.

Plamper: How did Stalin’s depiction in Pravda change between 1929 and 1933?

The 1929 jubilee issue was largely verbal, extolling him as rukovoditel’ (leader) or vozhd’ (supreme leader). Photos were small, poor quality, showing him youthful and informal. After the jubilee, the cult went largely silent until mid-1933, likely due to collectivization turmoil and residual resistance to personal rule. Stalin’s appearances were sparse and collective, not individualised.

Plamper: What artistic transformations characterized the Stalin cult after 1933?

From 1933, with Socialist Realism emerging, depictions became standardized and monumental. Avant-garde montages were replaced by retouched photographs and paintings, e.g., Aleksandr Gerasimov’s Comrade Stalin Gives His Report to the Seventeenth Party Congress (1934). Phrases like po-stalinski (“to work Stalin-like”) entered everyday language; initials were displayed in airplane formations and mass parades, sanctifying Stalin visually.

Plamper: How did visual codes in Pravda convey Stalin’s supremacy?

Photographs showed him alone or centrally placed, with uniform color, posture, and lighting distinguishing him. He never slouched or touched his face. His gaze was depicted as visionary, directed into the distance, symbolizing foresight. Captions and page placement reinforced hierarchy, with his name often capitalized and front-page placement privileging his prominence.

Plamper: How did the Stalin cult incorporate Soviet hero cults?

By the mid-1930s, Pravda linked Stalin to aviators, Arctic explorers, and Stakhanovites, portraying their achievements as products of his guidance. Examples: Otto Shmidt, Valery Chkalov, and Ivan Papanin’s polar expedition, whose crew “felt no cold” due to Stalin’s words, merging secular heroism with a sacred aura of benevolent omnipresence.

Plamper: How was Stalin culturally integrated beyond politics by the mid-1930s?

The cult expanded to cultural and literary figures, e.g., Taras Shevchenko (1935) and Pushkin centenary (1937). Pushkin was “Stalinized,” while Stalin was “Pushkinized” as a man of letters. Visual art literalized this: Pushkin in Stalin’s overcoat; in 1952, a sculptor created a Stalinized bust of Gogol.

Plamper: How did iconography convey Stalin as Lenin’s heir?

Stalin was depicted alongside Lenin, always to Lenin’s right, symbolically masculine and denoting succession. By 1948, the Marx–Engels–Lenin–Stalin sequence showed shortened beards to mark historical progress, positioning Stalin as the culmination of Marxist history. Relationships of 19th-century intellectuals (Herzen, Ogarev) were reframed to align with this teleology.

Plamper: How did the cult respond visually to Kirov’s assassination (1934)?

Stalin appeared as pallbearer at funerals, linking him to martyrdom and vengeance. In early 1935, Pravda launched new motifs showing him without captions, indicating the public had become “Stalin-literate.” Paintings emphasized abundance, joy, fertility, e.g., Central Asians with fruit, idyllic landscapes, parades, reflecting the shift from First Five-Year Plan industrial dynamism to horizontal social stability.

Plamper: How did the cult represent USSR’s ethnic diversity and Stalin’s identity?

Mid-1930s “Weeks of national art” showcased minorities, sometimes with Stalin in local costume. His image was supranational, never Georgian, embodying the USSR as a whole. Post-1945, Stalin was partially Russified (e.g., replacement of Georgian actor Mikhail Gelovani with Russian Aleksei Diky in 1948 films), though never exclusively Russian.

Plamper: What was the role of Socialist Realism and Pravda during the 1936 show trials?

From 1936, photomontage was replaced by socialist realist paintings, aligning with Stalin’s new Constitution. Letters, museum proposals, and articles urged citizens to “guard Comrade Stalin,” pairing depictions of devotion with political repression. In 1937, during terror escalation, Pravda temporarily reduced Stalin’s image, reviving him in late 1938 as repression eased.

Plamper: Describe the 60th birthday celebrations of Stalin in 1939.

For Stalin’s 60th birthday, Pravda doubled to 12 pages, front-page dominated by a smiling, paternal Stalin. Articles from top Party leaders emphasized national unity, agrarian success, and Soviet modernity under headlines like “Dear Stalin” and “To the Great Continuer of Lenin’s Task.” Congratulatory messages were ritualized and unprecedented since Lenin’s death.

Plamper: How did WWII affect Stalin’s visual representation?

After 22 June 1941, Stalin’s image hardened: stern, gray-haired, Wilhelmine-style moustache, portrayed as generalissimo and visionary strategist. Visual glorification in Pravda was reduced, replaced with text-based propaganda and caricatures of Hitler. Once victory seemed likely, his visual cult returned as wise, paternal conqueror, reflecting transformation from Lenin’s disciple to embodiment of the state.

Plamper: How did postwar Pravda ritualize Stalin’s presence?

From 1945, Stalin’s civilian imagery returned, yet dominance persisted. By June 1945, he was elevated to Generalissimo, gray, slightly puffy, in marshal’s uniform. By August 1945, he wore a white uniform at Potsdam, visually distinguished from Western leaders. His symbolic “presence through absence” emerged in artworks like The Oath (1946) and After the Demonstration (1949).

Plamper: How did the Soviet annual calendar structure Stalin’s cult in late 1940s?

By 1947, Pravda structured Stalin’s cult around holidays: Day of Bolshevik Press (5 May), Victory Day (9 May), Air Force Day (3 August), and 30th Anniversary of October Revolution (7 November). Recurring imagery emphasized Stalin as Lenin’s heir, military leader, and embodiment of Soviet power, visually regulating political time.

Plamper: What was the scale and nature of Stalin’s 70th birthday celebrations in 1949?

Preparations included socialist competitions and exhibition of 1,398 gifts from worldwide contributors, including Native American headdresses and Hebrew editions of Capital. Pravda devoted 12 pages on 21 December 1949, showing Stalin in his office before a Lenin portrait, accompanied by panegyrics from Molotov, Beria, Khrushchev. He was also pictured with international Communist leaders like Mao Zedong, asserting global authority.

Plamper: How did Stalin’s representations persist in the early 1950s despite declining health?

Images remained controlled, static, quasi-religious, featuring staged voting, May Day tribunes, and encounters with schoolgirls. Even as health declined, he was portrayed as paternal, benevolent, and omniscient, sustaining ritualized authority until his death on 5 March 1953.

Plamper: How did Pravda depict Stalin’s death and succession?

After 5 March 1953, black-bordered issues recorded his passing. On 6 March, Stalin appeared alive; by 7 March, in his coffin with successors nearby, e.g., Malenkov at his head, signaling succession. Photos shifted his body from foreground to background, marking retreat from life but retaining spiritual centrality.

Clark: How did Moscow’s geography and street naming reflect Stalinist ideology in the 1930s?

Central streets were deliberately renamed to link literature with politics: Tverskaia → Gorky Street (1933); squares renamed Pushkin (1931) and Mayakovsky (1935). This shifted the focus from radical writers of the Civil War era (e.g., Herzen, Belinsky, c.1920) to canonical figures, reinforcing the 1937 dual celebrations of Pushkin’s death centenary and the 20th anniversary of the October Revolution. The demolition of the Strastnoi Monastery (1937) and repositioning of Pushkin’s statue symbolized culture replacing religion as sacred legitimacy.

Clark: What institutional developments shaped Socialist Realism in literature?

The Writers’ Union was founded in 1932, and the First Writers’ Congress took place in 1934. Maxim Gorky, returned from exile in 1931, became head of the Union and was hailed as the “godfather” of Socialist Realism. Literature was central because it was seen as the purest form of the written word, embodying permanence, reason, and truth.

Clark: How did Stalin and the Politburo oversee cultural production?

Stalin assumed direct oversight of culture, treating literature as political capital. In 1936, Vyacheslav Molotov declared, “after Lenin, the loss of Gorky is the greatest loss for mankind.” Cultural policy was enforced through the Politburo, Secretariat, Orgburo, and Kultprop, which directly regulated scripts, librettos, and manuscripts after 1934.

Clark: How did Soviet literature intersect with film and other media under Stalin?

Prominent writers like Isaak Babel, Yury Olesha, Aleksandr Fadeev were tasked with writing film scripts for directors such as Sergei Eisenstein. Photography was subordinated to literary conventions, with each image forming a coherent story (rasskaz). Even dissidents like Evgenia Ginzburg recited Pushkin and Tolstoy in the gulag, reflecting the near-religious veneration of literature.

Clark: How was architecture ideologically harnessed in Stalinist Moscow?

Architecture symbolized the Marxist “base-superstructure” model, making Moscow a model city for world communism. Public blueprints were displayed on Gorky Street before revolutionary holidays. Ivan Zholtovsky’s 1934 Palladian-style building set the model for “new Soviet classicism,” emphasizing grandeur, permanence, and socialist order.

Clark: How did Clark link Stalinist Moscow to Ángel Rama’s concept of La ciudad letrada?

Stalinist Moscow was a “lettered city,” fusing written culture, bureaucracy, and urban design to impose ideological order. This mirrored colonial Latin American “lettered cities” and was framed as internal colonisation, replacing societal “darkness” with Soviet “civilisation.”

Clark: What role did written texts play in Stalinist governance and purges?

Writing defined political and social hierarchy. Between 1933–36, ignorance of Marxism became grounds for Party expulsion. The Great Purges relied on written records—interrogations, signed confessions, and reports. Andrei Vyshinsky’s interrogation of Bukharin and the torture-induced confession of Vsevolod Meyerhold (arrest June 1939, executed 2 Feb 1940) exemplify textual authority as the basis of legitimacy.

Clark: How was Stalin personally linked to writing and textual authority?

Portraits like Isaak Brodsky (1928–1937) and Viktor Govorkov’s 1940 poster Stalin in the Kremlin Cares for Every One of Us depicted him writing at his desk under symbolic lamps. The Kremlin became a sacral “high center”, echoing Benedict Anderson’s ideas on divine kingship. Stalin’s study symbolized intellectual and spiritual authority, where he metaphorically “wrote the nation.”

Clark: How did Moscow’s reconstruction reflect Stalinist ideology?

After the June 1931 Central Committee plenum, major projects included: the Metro (opened May 1935), the Moscow–Volga Canal, and the straightening/widening of streets. Moscow was recast as a textual and ideological capital, similar to Haussmann’s Paris redesign (1858–70), but intended to reflect Soviet modernity and socialist order.

Clark: How was the “New Moscow” promoted in literature and propaganda?

By 1933, a cult of Moscow was promoted in Literaturnaia gazeta, urging writers like Sergei Eisenstein and Andrei Platonov to celebrate Moscow as the physical embodiment of socialism. Straightened streets symbolized streamlined, planned socialist morality and national ideology.

Clark: What architectural styles and influences were promoted in the 1930s?

Modernism and Constructivism were rejected. The 1932 Construction Council resolution prescribed the “best of classical heritage” with modern technology. Influential architects: Ivan Zholtovsky, Aleksei Shchusev, Ivan Fomin, Vladimir Shchuko, Boris Iofan. Iofan’s Palace of Soviets drew explicitly on Roman forums. Vitruvius’ De architectura and Palladio’s I quattro libri dell’architettura were translated into Russian to guide architects.

Clark: How did Soviet architectural press disseminate ideas?

Journals such as Arkhitektura SSSR, Stroitel’stvo Moskvy, Arkhitektura za rubezhom published Western influences, including Manhattan skyscrapers. The 1933 Academy of Architecture institutionalised classical training, blending Renaissance/Greco-Roman aesthetics with socialist ideology.

Clark: How did Stalin link architecture to ideological transformation?

Monumental classical buildings symbolized grandeur, stability, universalism, rejecting modernist chaos. The 1935 General Plan for Moscow described old streets as relics of “barbaric Russian capitalism,” promising a rational, light-filled socialist city. Stalin’s 1934 Congress of Victors speech contrasted capitalist slums with bright workers’ neighborhoods (svetlye) as a moral and ideological transformation.

Clark: How were religious and capitalist structures removed for Moscow’s transformation?

Churches, including the Cathedral of Christ the Redeemer, were destroyed from 1931. Old stock exchanges and small traders’ booths were removed for wide boulevards and monumental vistas, exemplifying ideological purification and the creation of secular sacred spaces.

Clark: Who controlled architectural planning in Stalinist Moscow?

Lazar Kaganovich, Moscow Party Committee First Secretary and Stalin ally, centralised control. In 1932, multiple agencies merged into the Architectural Planning Committee (Arkhplan). By 1933, architects were collectivized into state-run “studios,” coordinated under the single plan (edinyi plan) principle.

Clark: How did the pedagogical purpose of architecture evolve in the 1930s?

Unlike the functionalist 1920s, 1930s architecture was monumental and symbolic, designed to inspire awe. Citizens became spectators or modern flâneurs, experiencing civic pride and ideological education through grand streets, squares, and public buildings reflecting the socialist state.

Schlogel: How did black-and-white photography shape the global image of the Soviet Union under Stalin?

Black-and-white imagery, associated with authenticity and truth, became central to representing and legitimising the Stalinist project. Iconic images of projects like the DniproHES dam, Magnitogorsk, the White Sea Canal, and the Kharkiv tractor factory symbolised industrial progress and national transformation, circulating through newspapers, exhibitions, and films, and providing a visually powerful and lasting impression of socialist modernity.

Schlogel: What was USSR in Construction and why was it significant?

USSR in Construction (1930–41) was a lavishly illustrated monthly magazine, published in multiple languages, that showcased Soviet modernisation achievements. It was both propagandistic and documentary, aimed at visualising socialist progress for a largely illiterate population. It pioneered a photo-essay form, combining photomontage, cinematic sequencing, and concise text, presenting industrialisation, urban modernity, and conquest of nature as triumphs of socialist planning.

Schlogel: Who were key contributors to USSR in Construction?

Major photographers, artists, and writers included El Lissitzky, Alexander Rodchenko, Maxim Gorky, Isaak Babel, and Tretyakov, working under senior Party officials such as Pyatakov and Meshlauk. Many of these figures later perished in the purges, and the magazine’s archives were lost, highlighting the impermanence and fragility of Stalinist cultural documentation.

Schlogel: How did USSR in Construction visually stage the transformation from backwardness to modernity?

The magazine created visual contrasts: peasants vs engineers, horses vs tractors, bazaars vs department stores, wooden huts vs apartment blocks. These contrasts symbolised the triumph of new over old, culminating in Stalin as the personification of progress. Even forced labour and coercion were aestheticised, turning repression into a spectacle of collective achievement.

Schlogel: What was Alexander Rodchenko’s theoretical and artistic approach to photography?

Rodchenko sought to “teach man to see anew”, arguing photography should transform perception rather than merely record reality. He employed high angles, diagonals, experimental framing, aiming to reveal socialism from novel viewpoints and to revolutionise visual thinking. His approach fused aesthetic innovation with ideological purpose.

Schlogel: How did Rodchenko depict the White Sea–Baltic Canal (1930–33)?

The canal, built by over 200,000 Gulag prisoners, was photographed by Rodchenko in ~2,000 images, portraying it as a heroic conquest of nature and moral regeneration (perekovka). He depicted prisoners as “new Soviet men”, using geometric compositions, contrasts of light and shadow, and disciplined landscapes to aestheticise forced labour while avoiding suffering.

Schlogel: What ideological significance did Rodchenko assign to his canal photographs?

Rodchenko saw his work as personal redemption and aligned with Stalinist ideology of creative and moral rebirth through labour. The photographs transformed raw documentation into heroic, idealised visions, reinforcing the narrative of the Soviet project as morally and aesthetically transformative.