Author: fccorn

On a little street off of Nevsky Prospekt in the center of St. Petersburg there is a little monument to the Polish nationalist writer, Adam Mickiewicz.  Next to the simple monument is a Polish language school named after the respected poet.  They commemorate Mickiewicz’s two-month sojourn in St. Petersburg in 1824.    Mickiewicz was born on December 24, 1798 in Zaosie in the Russian federation, then the Third Partition of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.  He died on November 26, 1855 in Constantinople.   In his poems regarding Poland and Russia, Mickiewicz focused mainly on patriotic themes and the nations’ fantastic, dynamic, and turbulent pasts.  He was the poetic leader during the Romantic and patriotic movements in

Poland and rallied the masses through his poetic pen by rallying them around nationalism.  The Russian city of St. Petersburg, its culture, and its people altered his ideas about nationalism, and the significance of his short stay there had implications for the ways in which this great poet was commemorated both in Russia and in Poland. and added to his writing style.  Firstly the background of Mickiewicz will be detailed, as well why he was exiled to St. Petersburg, what he did there, who he met, and finally how meeting those people and seeing the city affected and impacted
In 1817, Warsaw was still under Russian rule.  Many Polish people felt isolated and suffered economically, socially and psychologically.  Mickiewicz was a patriot; he loved Poland, and was disheartened by the dissolution of his Polish homeland.  He grew inspiration from his fellow suffering Poles and joined with his like-minded friend Tomasz Zan, as well as others, to form a secret society, the Philomaths (Lovers of Knowledge).  The organization initially concentrated on education and was split into two factions; mathematics/scientific and literary.  However, by 1819 the increasing suffering of the Polish people pushed some of the organizers into taking a more active role in helping Poland regain independence.  Unfortunately, for Mickiewicz such activism was banned by the Russian government and led to an investigation of secret student organizations.  A large number of activists were arrested, including Mickiewicz.  After his trial, in 1824 Mickiewicz was banished to central Russia for his pro-independence beliefs.  After Mickiewicz was exiled and went on a journey through Russia and Europe, his pro-independence works were written and circulated. his life.  Lastly, the significance of the monuments in Krakow, Warsaw, Lviv, and St. Petersburg, and the significance of their placement will be discussed.

Prison life changed the tone of Mickiewicz poems.  Before prison the keynote of his poems was disappointed love but after prison he concentrated on the suffering patriotism concerning Poland (Tarnowski).   He was then exiled in Russia where he wrote sad but extremely evocative pieces.  During his time in St. Petersburg and Russia he developed his pieces with wonderful “patriotism, inspiration, and an artistic finish” that was a step above anything else he had yet written (Tarnowski).  In 1832 Mickiewicz wrote the poem “Dziady” (“Дзяды- Forefathers”).   He did not glorify St. Petersburg,  but represented it from the viewpoint of the locals in its founding years.    The Russian people did not want to move the capital to St. Petersburg, a city located on a barely inhabitable swamp.  Therefore the people thought the city was built by Satan, an inference to Peter the Great:

Rome created by the hand of man,

Venice created by the gods;

But everyone would agree with me,

What made Petersburg– Satan.

 

Рим создан человеческой рукою,

Венеция богами создана;

Но каждый согласился бы со мною,

Что Петербург построил сатана

In spite of the obstacles and loss of life, the Russian people endured and accomplished this huge feat of building a capital city on swampland.  Peter’s “Window to the West” became a reality; Russia was now connected to the West through its port and large fleet of ships.  Russians were also introduced, often forcibly, to western ideas and technology thus improving the living conditions of the country. Even with this new connection to the west, living in St. Petersburg was still difficult especially because of the terrible floods which occurred regularly in 1724, 1824, and 1924 (Petersburg).  Mickiewicz in fact arrived in St. Petersburg two days after the Neva flooded the city in 1824.  According to Pushkin, nature seemed to resist the creation of St. Petersburg by washing it, blowing it into the sea, trying to kill all the people.  Even through these seemingly unbelievable conditions, St. Petersburg and its people survived and continued to prosper.  In this poem Mickiewicz showed what the people had to overcome to build the magnificent capital.  The poem emphasized the hatred for Peter, referred to as ‘King of the Swamp.’  It also depicts, the new capital, St. Petersburg, was not a place of the people.  Its first residents were the nobles who made up Peter’s court and government.  They were forced to move to the new capital, build grand mansions on the main canal in order to display to the country and the world the wealth and new prosperity of ‘modern’ Russia.

The wind, fog and mud constantly,

And the sky is sending a cold or heat,

Wrong, as a wild temper tyrant.

No people, no, that king of the swamp

Stood and said: “Here we will build!”

And laid the Empire stronghold,

Currently the capital, but not the city for the people.

Здесь ветер, мгла и слякоть постоянно,

И небо шлет лишь холод или зной,

Неверное, как дикий нрав тирана.

Не люди, нет, то царь среди болот

Стал и сказал: “Тут строиться мы будем!”

И заложил империи оплот,

Себе столицу, но не город людям.

 Although it is natural for the Poles to admire Mickiewicz, other states respected him as well.  After Adam Mickiewicz’s death, in cities across Europe, ideas about erecting monuments in honor of the poet began.  People from the Polish diaspora wanted to honor his life, by the  means of spreading their cultural and nationalist views throughout Europe.   In response, statues have been erected in Kraków and Warsaw in Poland, in Lviv in Ukraine, and in St. Petersburg in Russia.  Mickiewicz never visited the city of Krakow, but due to the insistence of the mayor a sculpture was placed in the Main Market Square of Krakow. Once the city (Krakow) was decided upon, a contest was held in order to decide who would be honored as the sculptor.  First prize was awarded to the famed sculptor Cyprian Godebski, a professor at the Imperial Academy of Arts in St. Petersburg.  However, it was Teodor Rygier, a little known sculptor, who won the third and final competition for this project.  He sculpted the grand statue that now stands in the Main Market Square in the Old Town (Stare Miasto) district of Kraków.  The statue has four allegoric

groups that symbolize the Polish “Motherland (from the face of the monument along Sienna Street), Science (facing north), Courage (facing Sukiennice Hall) and Poetry (facing Church of St. Wojciech, south)” (Wikipedia).  Each side of the statue signifies a portion of Mickiewicz’s life; his love of country and science; the courage he used to face his adversaries and his poetic talents.  At the pedestal of the monument the inscription reads: “To Adam Mickiewicz, the Nation.”  This inscription as well as the layout of the statue itself, portrays the deep national pride the Poles feel towards Mickiewicz and his work.  In 1890, two years after the monument was built, 35 years after his death, his remains were brought to and laid to rest in St. Leonard’s Crypt under the Wawel Cathedral (Wikipedia).

Krakowskie Przedmieście is one of the best known and most prestigious streets in the capital of Poland, Warsaw.  Here stands the monument to Adam Mickiewicz built in 1897-1898 by the sculptor Cyrian Godebski, who was overlooked in Krakow but was given the honor of constructing a monument in Warsaw.   The monument is surrounded by historic palaces, churches, and manor-houses, located in the center of Warsaw. At this time, the Russians still had influence over Poland but once the Warsaw intelligentsia became aware of the project the Russians relented and permitted its construction.  The statue is a representation of Mickiewicz standing high, with his head slightly raised and his right hand placed across his chest resting on his heart.  To commemorate the poet’s 100^th birthday, the monument was unveiled on December 24, 1898.  After the Warsaw Uprising in 1944, the Nazis destroyed the monument. Lviv, Ukraine was another location chosen to honor Mickiewicz.  The column is situated in the center of the historic Adam Mickiewicz Square; one of the most visited cultural sightseeing places.  For Poles living in Lviv, this was a symbol of great national consciousness and Polish pride (AMML).

Compared to the two other monuments, the landmark in St. Petersburg honoring Mickiewicz is much smaller and not as elegant as the others.  It stands in front of the Polish Language school honoring Adam Mickiewicz.  While the statue stands in a back alley, it is close to the center of St. Petersburg in front of the language school off of Nevsky prospekt.   A regular tourist would have great difficulty finding or knowing who the statue represents. The school was built on the corner of the alley across from the Fontanka River.  The full name of the school is the State Educational Institution Secondary School Number 216 for the In-Depth Study of the Polish Language at the Adam Mickiewicz Central District of St. Petersburg.  In 1991, the school received the status of advanced study in Polish language.  The school is considered a multicultural educational institution.  Even though the school focuses on Polish language and culture, it also incorporates the patriotic upbringing of the younger generation with historical examples of St. Petersburg, Leningrad, and Russia as a whole (Школа No 216).

In 1824 while in St. Petersburg, Mickiewicz spent two months meeting famous Russian writers and visiting their homes. It was during this period he became good friends with Alexander Pushkin and the inner circle of Russian literary geniuses including Aleksandr A. Bestuzhev and Kondraty F. Ryleev.  Bestuzhev and Ryleev were two leaders within the literary circle of St. Petersburg and were conspirators who initiated a republicanist revolt against the tsar in 1825.    Mickiewicz and the Russian writers had strong influences on one another.  It was these men who showed Mickiewicz that the Russian people “were not to be equated with those who ruled them” meaning the Russian people did not necessarily agree with what the Russian nobility and rulers stood for (Koropeckyj).   This was very much part of the Romantic Nationalist movement which argued that  state derived its political legitimacy from the unity of the people it governed.  This unity derived from the common language, race, culture, religion, and customs of a nation.    Romanticism “opened a window to their nation’s past and folk and at the same time offered visions of liberty for the individual as well as a people (Koropeckyj).” While Mickiewicz was born in the Lithuanian-Polish Commonwealth, he mostly related and connected to the Polish people and their nation more so than the Lithuanian people.

Despite the two writers only spending a minuscule amount of time with each other, Mickiewicz clearly felt strongly towards Pushkin and looked to him not only as a writer but as a friend.  In the obituary Mickiewicz wrote for Pushkin, he claimed that he “observed in him a character too much given to fleeting impressions and sometimes shallow, but always generous, noble-minded, and capable of passion. His faults seemed to be connected to the circumstances in which he grew up, while what was good in him came from the depths of his heart.”  (Dixon, A Translation).  At the end of the obituary Mickiewicz signed it “A Friend of Pushkin.”  Tensions and a general distrust have existed between the Poles and Russians for many years.   These tensions were due to at best border disagreements and at worst various periods of Russian occupation.    The relationship that developed between the Polish Mickiewicz and the Russian Pushkin was an unlikely one. Mickiewicz was from a country with a “moral mission: to regain independence from the government that so many of the Russian literary figures criticized” (Dixon, Pushkin and Mickiewicz).  Pushkin recognized the difference between the two poets:  “the great difference that separates us comes from our opposed positions: you are the poet of an oppressed nation, and this decides your superiority over me. You would not believe with what joy I would change places with you (cited in Dixon, Pushkin and Mickiewicz).”  It is quite amazing that these two people who came from opposing counties could become friends and influence one another.  Although Pushkin and Mickiewicz were committed patriots to their respective countries, Mickiewicz was considered a prophet who became the voice and inspiration for the Polish people. After his visit to St. Petersburg, revolutions began in Europe in 1848 and during that time he moved to Italy to help organize Polish legions to fight Austria over contested areas in the south of Poland (Lituanica).  Later, a war between Russia and Turkey began to revive hopes to re-establish the republic of Poland- Lithuania.

Adam Mickiewicz was considered to be a “gente lithuanus, natione polonus” [Lithuanian person, a native of Poland] (Lituanica).

Although born on Lithuanian land, he was always considered a true Pole.  Adam Mickiewicz is remembered today in Poland, Ukraine, and Russia as a talented and amazing poet as well as a courageous man.   Through his pen united the Polish people through the use of common history and powerful writing his artistic style was influenced by the places he visited and the people he met.

 

Works cited

 

On the way out to Peter and Paul Fortress, along Ioannovsky Bridge, a 58-centimeter high statue of a rabbit stands on one of the pilings in the water. Marks on the piling indicate the height of some of the floods that inundated St. Petersburg in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. This monument, referred to as “The Hare Escaping Flooding,” stands for the people and animals that perished in such floods (Saint-Petersburg.com). Other than this scanty information, the origins of this whimsical statue remain largely a mystery. Made from a mixture of selumine and aluminum (“Unusual Monuments in St. Petersburg”), it was placed in 2003 during one of the many renovations of Ioannovsky Bridge (Saint-Petersburg.com). Not much information about the sculptor exists other than his name–V. Petrovichiev (BaikalNature). This statue, however enigmatic, connects to larger concepts in Russian history and culture–for example, the impact of flooding in St. Petersburg, as well as the prevalence of the hare in Russian culture as a symbolic figure. The reactions of people to this statue reflect its small stature and whimsical nature.

The broader location of the statue has much significance. Ioannovsky Bridge, as its many renovations indicate, is the oldest bridge in the city, and was built in the same year as the city itself, if not exactly in its present location (St. Petersburg Encyclopedia). Ioannovsky Bridge extends to Peter and Paul
Fortress, the point of origin for the city. The island upon which Peter and Paul Fortress stands is known as “Hare Island” (Zayachy Ostrov) due to the large number of hares that used to live there (Saint-Petersburg.com). A local legend ties these components together: during a flood, one of the hares from the island supposedly jumped into Peter the Great’s boat to avoid the rising waters (Saint-Petersburg.com). The statue symbolizes this legend quite well; the hare statue stands on a piling that rises far above the rest. Thus, this decade-old statue not only sits in the oldest part of St. Petersburg, but it also ties together the significance of the sites around it.

Beyond this basic legend regarding Peter the Great, hares have enjoyed a long and deep cultural symbolism in Russian history. Hares appeared frequently in Russian animal tales as a “cowardly animal.” As with all other animals in stories, storytellers used stock phrases to refer to hares, such as “the hare who runs away,” “the little gray fellow,” or “the rascally hare” (Sokolov, 436). The hare certainly lived up to these characterizations in folktales; for example, in a tale entitled “Who is More Cowardly Than the Hare?,” a hare on the verge of drowning himself due to his cowardliness chose not to after observing that a frog was afraid of him (Haney, 63). In another tale, “The Fox, the Hare, and the Cock,” a fox living in an ice house drove out a hare living in a bark house when the ice house melted. The hare sat around in despair, until a cock came and drove out the fox with a scythe (Gerber, 28). Hares were not always simply cowards, however; as the phrase “the rascally hare” suggests, hares could also act swiftly and trickily. In the tale “The Fox and the Hare,” the hare is “poor in strength, [but] he’s frisky at running and full of youthful pranks” (Haney, 33). This tricky nature of the hare was not necessarily negative; as noted by Russian folktale scholar Vladimir Propp,

“Trickery presupposes the dominance of the crafty over the stupid or simple. From our point of view, trickery is morally reprehensible. In animal tales, on the contrary, it arouses delight, as a form of expression of dominance of the weak over the strong” (Propp, 298). Trickery, in other words, formed an essential part of survival and therefore did not necessarily appear as a negative quality. Thus, the legend regarding the hare who jumped into Peter the Great’s boat follows the tradition of Russian folk tales. Elements of the legend may have even stemmed from the symbolism in Russian folk tales. The hare may have jumped into Peter the Great’s boat out of cowardice, but the statue celebrates the “rascally hare’s” instinct to survive.

These characteristics associated with hares–trickery, cowardice, fleetness–have endured up to the present. One example of the “rascally hare” appeared in the Soviet children’s cartoon Nu, Pogodi!, which followed the adventures of a wolf attempting to capture and presumably eat a hare. While this show bears some comparison with the American cartoon Tom and Jerry, the characters of the wild hungry wolf and the tricky hare conceivably could have been drawn from old Russian folk tales. Other more negative examples of the hare as a coward rather than a trickster have occurred more recently. In 2009, a series of “hare” protests occurred in St. Petersburg in response to increased local transportation fees. The term “hare” (zayats) has become slang for a person who uses public transport without paying by dodging the fees (Chernov). The forty or so protestors wore hare masks and stenciled hare skulls on the walls of the office of the Transport Committee. This incident shows that the negative aspects of the character of the hare have endured just as much as the more positive “trickster” aspects. A hare, a bear and a leopard all stand as mascots for the 2014 Winter Olympic Games in Sochi, and nationalist politician Vladimir Zhirinovsky had this to say about them: “The bear is the dumbest animal, the leopard is bloodthirsty, and the hare a coward who always runs away” (Bratersky). Thus, both the negative and positive characteristics of the hare have endured. These characteristics made it a much more appropriate choice for the statue than, for example, a fox or a bear (both of which also appeared quite often in Russian animal tales).

Besides the wider cultural significance of the hare, the statue also addresses a vital part of St. Petersburg’s history: flooding. Flooding has continually shaped the physical and cultural landscape of St. Petersburg, from the very first floods that washed away the flimsy dwellings of Peter the Great’s forced laborers (New York Times) to the devastating flood of 1824 that killed more than 200 people (Patterson). Pushkin immortalized the flood of 1824 in his poem “The Bronze Horseman.” In November 2010, St. Petersburg experienced its 308th flood (“Russia Beyond the Headlines”), nearly a flood a year since the city has existed. In 2011, the Russian government officially completed and opened a dam meant to protect St. Petersburg from rising water (The Voice of Russia). This reflects an ongoing desire to control the forces of nature in St. Petersburg; after all, in 1703, Peter the Great sought to engineer a city on a most inhospitable piece of land, persevering despite those foreboding first floods. More than three centuries later, the Russian government finally completed a project that would further tame the forces of nature and ensure the continued flourishing of St. Petersburg. Plaques around the city indicate the high water marks of some of the past floods (Patterson). With these constant reminders, flooding has also managed to dominate the cultural landscape of the city. The tiny statue of “The Hare Escaping Flooding,” then, does not stand entirely on its own but rather makes up a larger part of this flood commemoration trend.

Interestingly enough, however, when compared to other flood markers, this hare statue stands apart in one important respect. The marks on the piling that represent the heights of floodwaters are not very visible at all, in contrast with the stark line on, for example, the plaque marking the infamous flood of 1824. The visual emphasis of the hare statue is therefore on the hare and not necessarily on the piling (and faint marks) below it. The attitude of the crowds of Russians and tourists alike crossing Ioannovsky Bridge reinforces this assertion; these crowds regard the pilings immediately around the statue as lucky landing spots for tossed kopeks. The pilings even occasionally serve as a climbing spot for carefree children playing in the waters below the bridge in the summer. Thus, this mysterious statue, while representing larger concepts, has managed to root itself in people’s minds as a cute and whimsical spot to throw coins at before continuing on to Peter and Paul Fortress.

Works cited

 

Souvenirs are an integral but easily overlookable aspect of a culture, defining not just how others view a society, but how that society views itself and chooses to present itself to its citizens and the world. As a general rule, souvenirs represent the intersection of these two views – they show not just what foreign visitors are willing to buy (and, thus, how these items represent foreign opinions on a certain culture), they represent what native vendors are willing to sell (and, thus, they show how a particular culture might represent itself).

The most obvious impact on what sorts of souvenirs are sold is what a tourist is willing to buy – like all businesses, the souvenir sellers need to make money. From the buyer’s end, a souvenir is a mark of authenticity, proof that they actually visited a given place (Brown and Turley, 17). It also acts as a visual reminder – a sort of memory aid – of the trip (Belk, 32). It must therefore remind the tourist of the trip, either by having some sort of great memory attached to it or by being somehow representative of the place visited. An ordinary spoon, for example, fails to demonstrate the cultural gap between the home and the destination; it might have been bought anywhere, and so it fails to act as a reminder of the unique differences experienced while abroad (Hitchcock, 4). Suppose, however, one has a painted (or khokhloma) spoon. These are made out of light wood, rather than metal; they are often brightly colored, with golden handles and red-and-gold floral designs against a black bowl, rather than monochrome silver.  Such spoons are out of the ordinary; having one on display forces one to remember where the spoon was bought, and, by association, it brings up related memories of the journey. Further, since souvenirs are frequently given as gifts to family and friends who did not come along, they must evoke the visited culture to those who may have very little actual experience of it. This creates a level of stereotyping in souvenir buying – if, when one thinks of Russian souvenirs, one thinks of matryoshki, one is going to buy matryoshki to remind oneself and one’s friends of Russia (Graburn, xiii). This leads to the perpetuation of the matryoshka-Russia association, which then influences others to buy them as souvenirs (Brown and Turley, 18). In this way, the preconceived notions of a culture or country greatly impact what sorts of souvenirs a tourist is likely to buy when visiting.

Khokhloma spoons. Source: Finding Frenchie

Sellers perpetuate this cycle. Since they know that tourists expect certain kinds of souvenirs, many sellers have shaped their goods to fit tourist expectations (Belk 38). Even if similar goods are sold to both tourists and locals, the tourist items will be different (if only subtly) because of this attempt to appeal to foreign tastes (Hitchcock, 11). Further, knowing that the buyers will have certain restrictions on what sorts of goods they can bring home (for example, size limits on airplanes), goods are often modified to fit the practical needs of tourists (Graburn, xiii). As an example, Mariia Girgor’evna Chereiskaia notes that the ceramics made in the town of Skopin in the Riazan region of Russia have gotten smaller over time in order to comply with modern tastes and the requirements of traveling (Chereiskaia).

Nonetheless, souvenirs are not solely indicative of tourists’ tastes, with sellers one-sidedly kowtowing to the needs and desires of buyers. Nelson H. Graburn characterizes them as a physical pidgin language, a simplification that allows intercultural communication. Just as pidgins take input from both languages, souvenirs are shaped by the cultures of both buyer and seller. The sellers and producers draw not only on stereotypes of the tourists and what they think tourists will want, but also on their own social taboos and customs (Grabin, xiii).

Center for the Support of the Arts of St. Petersburg. Source: Scott99

Like most major cities, St. Petersburg and Moscow are peppered with souvenir shops – most of them small, crowded stores filled with overpriced goods. These are not the most popular places for tourists to buy their souvenirs. Instead, most seem to go to the outdoor markets – the Center for the Support of the Arts of St. Petersburg (Tsentr Podderzhki Iskusstv Sankt-Peterburga) near the Church on Spilled Blood in St. Petersburg, or the Ismailovo souvenir market in Moscow. These markets offer an invaluable opportunity to observe the meaning of souvenirs in Russian culture. At a basic level, the interactions between vendors and tourists, and the range of goods being sold has implications for Russian nationalism. Focusing more on souvenirs, the genre of Soviet memorabilia indicates contemporary attitudes towards USSR. Finally, more specifically, the existence and style of a particular series of matryoshka dolls can shed light on modern Russian stereotyping of Jewish people.

Many vendors play up the authenticity of their goods. Looking at a lacquer box, for example, will elicit a lecture from the vendor on the art form itself, the significance of Palekh, Kholuy, Fedosinko, or Mstyora (the four main centers of lacquer box production (Chereskaia)), an explanation of the fairy tale or scene painted on it, and a run down of the more popular motifs. Most vendors have magnifying glasses on hand, to show buyers the subtle differences in quality between similar boxes or their authentic handmade provenance. This sort of behavior extends beyond lacquer boxes – sellers of Soviet memorabilia often explain to potential buyers the background of a pin or medal (always with assurances that these items are real, and had been given to actual people in the USSR – that they are neither replicas nor surpluses). One vendor at Izmailovo advertised his stall by shouting, in both English and Russian, that his goods were not Chinese-made. This all makes good business sense – tourists typically look for locally produced goods from the country visited, as opposed to cheap, mass-produced goods made specifically for tourists (Bunn, 182). Thus, by specifically advertising authenticity, souvenir vendors can expect to sell more goods.

Nevertheless, there are some nationalistic undertones that cannot be explained by good salesmanship alone. Many of the historical lectures I received came after my purchase had been finalized – especially in Izmailovo. At this point, there was no real need for vendors to pitch their goods to me; I could not exactly ask for a refund at that point, and referrals, especially in Izmailovo, would be next to impossible – the whole market is so immense, so devoid of signs or real landmarks, that it would be immensely difficult for even the most satisfied of customers to direct a friend to a specific stall. Further, during their lectures on authenticity, many vendors were quick to give out potentially negative information. One used a magnifying glass to point out the difference in paint quality and materials in lacquer boxes as an explanation for price differences. There was no attempt to upsell, just a genuine explanation about why some boxes are objectively better than others. This all implies a love of the items being sold and the histories behind them beyond what would be strictly necessary to get a sale.

The discounts given also indicated Russian nationalistic pride. Generally, the souvenir markets are open to haggling. Decent discounts can be had by mentioning a lack of money, or status as a student, or even just by suggesting a lower price. Better bargains, though, are had by tying oneself to the area. Attempting to speak in Russian, for example, is one of the easiest ways to get money knocked off; saying that one is a student at a specific local university (St. Petersburg State or Moscow State, in my case) is just as good. This indicates a level of national – or perhaps local – pride. Those who identify themselves as insiders by using rubles, speaking Russian, or attending local schools are treated preferentially to the outsiders, who pay in dollars or Euros, make no attempt to speak Russian, and have often been bussed in by a travel agency. Thus, one can conclude that the vendors’ behavior indicates a general sense of national pride in modern Russia.

Beyond the behavior of the vendors themselves, the actual items for sale indicate a great deal about Russian attitudes. One of the more common ‘genres’ of Russian souvenirs is Soviet memorabilia: cups and t-shirts with the sickle and star or hammer and sickle, mugs and coasters bearing transparencies of Soviet realist paintings and propaganda, even actual Soviet-era artifacts such as military uniforms, medals, pins, etc. The vast majority of these items paint the Soviet Union in a generally positive light. The uniforms and medals, for example, call upon the image of the noble, heroic soldier, a war-hero, someone who fought for his homeland. Medals are almost exclusively positive icons – they celebrate some desirable trait, like dedication, or sacrifice for the higher good, or being particularly productive. Uniforms and associated paraphernalia likewise indicate a positive outlook – these are items meant to be used and worn (greatcoats, for example, seem more common than full uniforms; all-purpose bags were more common than highly specific military equipment). The presence of these items indicate not just that tourists are willing to buy them – vendors have to be willing to sell things that may glorify the Soviet Union. Germans, for example, would probably never stand for SS greatcoats being sold in public, right next to a building destroyed by the Nazis. Yet in St. Petersburg, Soviet greatcoats and medals are sold in the shadow of a church that had been looted and closed by that very regime.

It is not as though there would not be a market for goods that showcased the negatives of Soviet rule – ration cards, internal passports, or other ‘negative’ memorabilia would probably sell fairly well, especially to tourists from countries on the ‘other side’ of the Cold War. Instead, the overwhelming majority of Soviet-related souvenirs were positive, or, at the very least, neutral in terms of their message. There were hundreds of Soviet-era pins, all highlighting some national achievement: performance in the Olympics, anniversaries of certain major events, even technical achievement, for example a series of pins celebrating Soviet cars throughout history. These all point to a positive picture of life in the Soviet Union, one where there was consistent and important national progress. Scholar Svetlana Boym has argued that there is a trend in Russia today towards a nostalgic sense of longing for the communist era as an era of normalcy and stability, and a general dismissal or minimalization of the regime’s flaws (Boym, 58). Thus, the Soviet items for sale perhaps convey the idea that modern Russians have positive – or at worst neutral – feelings towards the Soviet government.

Even individual souvenirs can indicate attitudes in a country or region. In this case, one particular model of matryoshka doll can indicate Russian attitudes towards Jewish people. These particular matryoshki pop up just as often as any other style of doll – that is to say, they cannot be found in every souvenir stall, but about half of them carried at least one version of the doll. They vary in size and seemed to have a few basic styles, all based heavily on anti-Semitic stereotypes. The outermost doll is a man with a large nose, ruddy cheeks, beady eyes with almost effeminate lashes, a black hat, and, of course, peyos and a beard. He either has a Star of David printed on his beard, or is playing a violin. The internal nesting dolls, although they vary in order and style between sets, are similarly stereotypical: a man engrossed in a book, or an old woman holding a loaf of challah. The innermost doll is always either a young boy with a yarmulke and peyos or a baby wrapped in the Israeli flag. While there is no overt malice present in the designs of these dolls, there is a definite air of an intensely stereotyped view of Jewish people.

 

Cheaper matryoshki, top. Source: Reuters. More detailed matryoshki, bottom. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

On their own, of course, the dolls do not indicate much about actual attitudes. The souvenir markets had numerous matryoshki meant to appeal only to tourists, decorated with American political leaders, sports teams, famous bands, even popular fictional characters. There were also numerous ‘shock-value’ matryoshki – one contained Osama Bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, and Adolf Hitler, among others. These dolls, however, were significantly different stylistically from the more traditional matryoshki – specifically, they were more cheaply made. The traditional dolls were painted on all sides in bright colors; the more tourist-oriented dolls tended to be painted only on one side, the other half or three-quarters of the doll was left as plain wood. The quality of painting was much higher on the traditional dolls – even the cheaper ones were more visually appealing than the non-traditional dolls. In this way, quality can be used as an indicator of whose views the matryoshki most clearly align with – higher-quality dolls tend to reflect traditional Russian attitudes and themes, while poorly made matryoshki tend to be intended solely for tourist consumption, and therefore reflect themes tourists might find interesting.

If the Jewish dolls were solely meant to appeal to tourists, one would expect that they would follow the trend of being low-quality. Instead, they are quite well-made. The dolls are painted all around, with extensive detail on all sides; the details themselves are intricate – everything is hand-painted on them, from the shine on glasses, to the wrinkle of fabric near buttons, to the seeds on challah. This strongly indicates that these dolls are aligned more with the traditional matryoshki; rather than being cheaply mass-produced with the minimal quality needed to sell, pride and care have been taken in their creation. This, in turn, implies that their design represents at least to an extent how Jewish people are viewed, or at least the prevalence of traditional stereotypes.

Souvenirs alone cannot reveal everything about a culture or its attitudes, but they provide an introduction to that culture. Russian souvenirs are no exception. By examining the behavior of the vendors in the markets themselves, one can see a strong undercurrent of nationalistic pride, as evidenced in their behavior towards the items they sell and their preferential treatment of customers who make an attempt to use the Russian language and align themselves with Russian educational institutions. Looking at the souvenir genre of Soviet memorabilia reveals contemporary attitudes towards the USSR that tend towards positive or, at the very least, ambivalent. Even examining individual goods, like the Jewish matryoshka dolls, can indicate the presence of certain attitudes – in this case, an acceptance of Jewish stereotypes. To the observant tourist, a trip down to the local souvenir market can be as culturally educational as any museum tour.

 

Works Cited