Soviet Union

My View of the West: The Story of a Never-Ending End

By Riccardo Bavaj

I have a background in 20th-century German intellectual history, and ‘the West’ has played an important part in the history of modern Germany. For many decades, Germans had a rather troubled relationship with ‘the West’. Obviously, German anti-Westernism soared in the First World War: ‘Western civilization’ was perceived as shallow, artificial, corrupt, and decadent, whereas ‘German culture’ was seen as innately meaningful, deep, authentic, and true to life. The outcome of the First World War did not change much in this regard. Some Germans now thought more than ever that Germany’s future should take a path very different from that of ‘the West’, and that it was good to be special – until it was not.

After 1945, the thesis of a German special path was turned on its head – the central question now was: ‘How did this happen?’ How did the Nazis come to power, and what were the causes that led to the Holocaust? People now came up with various theories about when German history had taken a wrong turn, i.e. when it had started to deviate from what was assumed to be the ‘Western’ path of normality (for instance, with supposedly ‘failed’ or ‘half-hearted’ revolutions in 1848-49 or 1918-19). The key reference point of this German soul-searching was ‘the West’, which as an idea was hardly ever really explained and instead worked like a cipher for a liberal-democratic, pluralist future – a progressive, modern society. The emerging hegemonic narrative in the Federal Republic of Germany was that in order to prevent something like this from happening again Germany had to ‘Westernize’; it had to return to the ‘Western path of normality’ that it once had left.

And so it came. Increasingly, German intellectuals would praise the ‘opening up of the Federal Republic to the political culture of the West’ (Jürgen Habermas) – ‘1968’ was taken to play a key part in this – and while access to the ‘Western haven’ was still closed to Germans east of the border, after reunification the whole of Germany was said to have ‘arrived in the West’ eventually (Heinrich August Winkler). After centuries of fateful deviation from the Western norm, climaxing in Nazism’s ‘revolt against the West’, Germans were to be congratulated that they had finally arrived in the Western haven.

The great irony was that Germany seemed to have ‘arrived in the West’ at a time when – at least in academic circles – the concept of ‘the West’ was losing intellectual purchase; it was losing much of its intellectual plausibility. There was a growing uncertainty about its political contours, cultural identity, and epistemological status (is there actually such a thing as ‘the West’?), and people started to wonder whether this longed-for point of perspective – this beacon of promise that ‘the West’ had once been – was in fact a mirage.

There are various reasons behind the waning appeal of formerly unquestioned assumptions about what ‘the West’ stands for, but the end of the Cold War certainly looms large. Seemingly, the end of the Cold War had brought victory to ‘the West’, but it did much to destabilize und undermine it semantically, not least because the key antonym, Soviet Communism, was now gone. Had Germany’s vanishing point vanished? Where actually was Germany located (politically, culturally, intellectually) if it had ‘arrived in the West’? To some it seemed that, ironically, Germans had arrived in ‘the West’ only as its ‘twilight’ fell.

My own perspective on the subject of the West is very much informed by the history of concepts (Begriffsgeschichte), which looks at the shifting meanings of concepts over time, both as a mirror and driver of social change. While in academia the status of the West as an ‘intelligible unit of historical study’ (Arnold Toynbee) has become increasingly contested, ‘the West’ is still a prominent point of reference in current political debate and the wider public sphere. It is most commonly used in situations of international conflicts, crises, and wars, and there has been no shortage of those in recent years. Current debates demonstrate, in fact, that the concept of ‘the West’ proves useful even, and perhaps especially, when commentators lament its ‘crisis’, ‘decline’, ‘twilight’, or ‘end’. Indeed, one could argue that the greatest threat to ‘the West’ as a socio-political concept is the lack of any threat – it does tend to be in fashion when confronted with ‘internal’ or ‘external’ threats that are considered anti-‘Western’.

I would argue that the alleged ‘twilight of the West’ (both politically and epistemologically) goes hand-in-hand with a remarkable resilience of ‘the West’ as a socio-political concept: firstly, ‘the West’ continues to be a highly popular and effective framing device, and secondly, there is a perseverance of notions of ‘the West’ that have a long tradition and reach far back in time, at least until the early nineteenth century. ‘Western hegemonies’ may have ended in various areas of life, but ‘the West’ as a rhetorical pattern is very much alive. After all, the history of ‘the West’ has always also been the story of a never-ending end.

bavaj picRiccardo Bavaj is Professor of Modern History at the University of St Andrews and Director of the Institute for Transnational and Spatial History. His research focuses primarily on the twentieth century and is situated at the intersection of intellectual, conceptual and spatial history. It is particularly concerned with the history of radicalism, liberalism, modernity, academia, and the idea of the West.

My View of the West is a series of short posts by members of The West Network about their research or perspectives of ‘the West’.

My View of the West: Mining the Soviet-era archives to study art exchange

Simo Mikkonen

Last month, I wrote about my key research interest, art in the relationship between the Soviet Union and the West. What follows, is a quick glance at what kind of activities I have been engaged in regarding the topic.  For about ten years, I have been searching through archives, especially in Moscow. Some of the political archives contain reports, decisions and correspondence of Soviet officials between different domestic actors as well as foreign actors. By contrast, the other archives I have been investigating have more cultural content, including materials produced by artists and artistic organisations, and detailing their foreign activities and attempts to interact with their colleagues.

My interests have focused both on the official level, including cultural diplomacy and the use of culture as part of Soviet foreign politics, and on the lower levels of organization. When we look at the interaction of individual artists and artistic organisations, foreign politics play a much smaller role compared to the more official level. The emphasis is more on the transnational networks, the making of art, and attempts to overcome political and ideological divisions in doing so. At the same time, the borderlines of these different layers are far from clear.


Quite often, my research falls into what is called the study of the cultural Cold War. This concept is elusive; therefore, I found it important to participate in defining it in a volume called Entangled Histories of Cold War Europe I edited for Berghahn in 2015. After editing this volume, I wanted to focus more on Soviet cultural diplomacy, which resulted in Music, Art and Diplomacy (Routledge 2016). Finally, in Entangled East and West (2018), which I edited as part of the Rethinking the Cold War series by De Gruyter, I examined the concept of cultural diplomacy and especially how it can be supported through empirical research.

Today, my research on the topic continues. Through interviews with artists and administrators as well as by examining new archival material, I aim to gain a better understanding of how interactions with the West influenced Soviet art. Furthermore, issues that I feel require further research are the nature of the interaction of artists and how they experienced contacts with the West.

The author is Finnish Academy Research Fellow (2014-19), Docent of Russian History, and Senior Researcher (on leave) in University of Jyväskylä, Finland.

My View of the West is a series of short posts by members of The West Network about their research or perspectives of ‘the West’.

Soviet Art and the West during the Cold War: A Constant Dilemma?

By Simo Mikkonen

From the Russian Revolution onwards, the West presented a problem for the Soviet Union (“Soviet Russia” until 1922) and its key ideologues. It became an adversary, but also a competitor and a point of reference. The West was something that the Soviet Union strove to not only catch up to, but surpass, with the primary foci being economic and technological development. The Soviet Union tried to stand out from the West in terms of political thought, social order and culture, which caused a dilemma about how to deal with the West.

As per Marxist theories, the West should have been in decline, but it was clear that the West was constantly ahead of the Soviet Union, especially in technological and economic development. Throughout its existence, the Soviet Union was forced—either willingly or unwillingly—to address advances in Western countries. In culture, the situation was not simple. The world of art, which is my key interest, underwent many changes during the Soviet years as connections with the West increased and decreased but never ceased altogether.

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Soviet cultural event in Messuhalli, Helsinki. Artistic program was joined with political speeches supporting communist incumbents for the upcoming parliamentary elections. Behind, pictures of Soviet leaders. (Photo courtesy of Helsinki City Museum, N153651, photographed by Väinö Kannisto, 23.2.1945.)

In my doctoral dissertation (2007), I examined the development of Soviet music policies in the 1930s. I used music as a window to Soviet authorities’ perception of music, and to the demands directed at composers and music professionals by the Soviet power. Notably, the arts were given an important role in the ideological and political education of Soviet citizens. Artists were made a part of the Soviet elite yet were expected to align with the ideological and political demands of the system.

During the Stalin era (c. 1930–1953), the West was portrayed as a clear enemy, and everything Western became ideologically undesirable. In the arts, this meant the rejection of contemporary (post-1918) Western artistic developments. Socialist realism, even if it never was a clearly defined concept, became a template for all areas of the arts. The cornerstones of Stalin-era art were the people (art must be understandable), Soviet ideology (art must support the Party), realism (art must be representational) and anti-Westernism. Conversely, pre-revolutionary classical Western art was warmly embraced. The music of Mozart and Bach and the plays of Shakespeare and other classics became the key building blocks of Soviet art.


Enter Soviet delegations at the (socialist) Youth Festival arranged in Romania. (Photo courtesy of The People’s Archives, KansA101284, photographed by Yrjö Lintunen, 2.8.1953.) 

The world of art is by default international and cosmopolitan. The arts have always shunned national borders, and the mobility of artists has been quite natural. Thus, before the First World War (1914–1918) and the Russian Revolution, artists of the Russian Empire were in close connection with the West through traveling and often living in European metropolises, such as Paris, Rome, London and Berlin. After the Revolution, many artists left Russia. By the 1930s, the Soviet Union had begun to systematically cut its ties between Soviet artists and their Western colleagues. Although these cuts were never completed, a generation of Soviet artists essentially grew up in a void, where Western influences were kept to a minimum.

Stalin’s death in 1953 began a new era of openness towards the West. Most artists embraced the change, but were given few chances to interact with their Western colleagues. When contacts between the Soviet Union and the West were revived, performing artists (versus creative artists) were allowed to travel the most. For example, in the area of music, instead of sending Soviet composers abroad to promote their works, the Soviet Union sent its world-class musicians all around the world. Typically, they would play Western (and Russian) classics rather than Soviet-era works.


Mikhail Khomizer, Olli Alho, Dmitri Hintze, Igor Bezrodny, Väinö Starck, an unknown woman and Dmitri Bashkirov at Jyväskylän Kesä (“Summer of Jyväskylä”) festival in 1968. Encounters between Soviet and Western artists increased gradually in places like Jyväskylän Kesä. (Photo: Courtesy of Jyväskylän Kesä archives, June 1968, photographer unknown).

The Soviet Union had ideological reasons to engage the West after a quarter-century of voluntary isolation: Soviet leadership wanted to challenge the capitalist West and prove Soviet superiority in culture, economics, the military and technology. By sending its best artists and troupes abroad, it wanted to appeal to Western audiences. By winning over the Western populace—or, at the very least, proving that the Soviet Union was also a cultural superpower—the Soviet Union wanted to increase pro-Soviet sentiments and decrease the appeal and outreach of anti-communist forces.

This approach was not new; rather, the target of the capitalist West was a novelty from the mid-1950s. After the Second World War, the best Soviet artistic forces were sent all over Soviet-occupied Europe to astonish and charm the local populace, which was sometimes quite wary of Soviet objectives. There was also one country that, while not occupied by the Soviet Union, nevertheless received many Soviet artistic visitors throughout the first post-war decade: Finland. From the mid-1950s onwards, this approach was broadened to the rest of the capitalist West and to developing countries. It was also significantly expanded.

The author is Finnish Academy Research Fellow (2014-19), Docent of Russian History, and Senior Researcher (on leave) in University of Jyväskylä, Finland.