Soviet Music and Politics

Soviet Music and Politics

'Philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways; the point is to change it'.

Thus Karl Marx ended the appendix to his 1845 thesis on Feuerbach, and, in doing so, established a central point of his own ideological model.  With the introduction of Socialist Realism as state policy after Stalin's 1932 statement on the reformation of arts and culture, Soviet artists of all stripes faced a stark future of new interpretation, conformism and criticism.  The leading cultural personalities of the Soviet Union, including Prokofiev and Shostakovich, have been cast by history into three groups; those fully in support of the Socialist Realist movement and its execution, those outwardly supportive whilst critical either in private or in subtle artistic expression, and those who were openly critical and suffered the consequences of state censure.  Prokofiev and Shostakovich are both generally classed in the second category, and both suffered repeated denunciation of their works.  It will be shown, however, that Prokofiev embraced the ideal of Socialist Realism in his work, creating some of his most powerful and lasting compositions in the years after its introduction despite his objection to the twisted form implemented by the Soviet hierarchy.  Shostakovich's acceptance of the policy was rather less passionate and, as will be illustrated, his indifference becomes increasingly obvious in the years after 1936.  The challenges of composition without the freedoms found in the west can hardly be imagined in modern day London, but as a defining form of art in the twentieth century, Socialist Realism cannot be ignored.

          The Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 set the tone for the implementation of an integrated artistic cultural policy in the Soviet Union for the next seventy years, by aligning writers, painters, architects and musicians with the state's idealistic position.  Vladimir Lenin, the founder of the Soviet Union, had rejected the views expressed by some colleagues that anything old and non-Soviet could be dismissed instantly, recognizing the importance of existing beauty stemming from historical, traditional practices.  Furthermore, he did not see this same beauty in the art of contemporary European styles.  Internal governmental opposition to developing western European arts movements like Cubism and Impressionism led to Joseph Stalin's landmark decree 'On the Reconstruction of Literary and Arts Organizations' and the formation of the Moscow and Leningrad Union of Artists in 1932.  Alongside the existing style of 'Heroic Realism' depicting targets for public emulation, there would be a new form of state-approved cultural policy which would remain in place for almost the entire life of the Soviet Union.  The view that historical works retained their value in the Soviet system explains the survival of the beautiful, if somewhat gaudy, buildings such as the Moscow Kremlin and the continued appreciation of older forms of Russian music, even those of sacred origin.  The policy coordinated the powerful and widely respected output of Soviet artisans in all fields with the massive and unprecedented propaganda organs of the state.

          Summarised and entrenched by Aleksey Peshkov under the pen name Maxim Gorky in a text 'On Socialist Realism', the new movement would have four major tenets; it would be for and of the Proletariat, realistic, typical and partisan.  These guidelines would steer Soviet artists away from the bourgeois decadence of central and western Europe and, at the same time, would define the western conception of Soviet and Socialist art, continuing to do so to the current day.  The Proletariat of whom Gorky spoke, defined by Marx as workers without land ownership who were forced to sell their labour for survival, were to be elevated in their work to the position of state heroes.  Grand images of the Tsars would be replaced by those of men and women tilling the fields and working in factories, using these images to educate and inform the masses in Communist theory and promoting their comradely virtue.  More importantly, Socialist Realist art would be easily understood and appreciated by these workers in its depiction of their daily lives.  Relevance to the working people was important in terms of accessibility, not merely content.  Under the previous regime, Russian art in its various forms had achieved aesthetic levels of supreme beauty, but reached only a tiny percentage of the population as dictated by their wealth, education and distance from cultural centres.

          The huge size of the country and its largely agrarian workforce required a different approach;  large-scale outdoor art would be produced, accompanied by the construction of monuments and statues to common heroic figures and music based upon familiar themes and harmonic structures.  The reliance on agricultural workers in Soviet Russia was particularly high given the less developed, non-mechanical nature of farming when compared to western Europe.  Their depiction became a theme, but alongside this were the soldiers of the Red Army (particularly so during the Great Patriotic War, recognised in the west as World War II), factory employees and women in these roles and others.  Socialist Realism in its executed model was not the authentic visual and aural rendering of such heroes of the state, but rather the illustration, in all configurations, of the idealised socialist utopia.  'Good' examples would be elevated to perfection, whilst 'bad' characters would be denounced as evil and as fighting against the common good.  It was this representational impression of realism that became the norm, in the same way that the agricultural and economic 'Five Year Plans' reflected the victory of political conceptualisation over reality.  The first three guidelines contribute to, and are informed by, the fourth.  The partisan support of the Communist Party and its role as the governing body of the Soviet Union was to become the most important tenet, often to the contradiction or exclusion of the others.  This corruption of the ideals of Socialist Realism, and the perverted form it took when implemented by petty officials enslaved by their own inadequacies and jealousies left artists such as Prokofiev struggling with the policy.  It is no surprise that the policy as exhibited took on a strong martial tone given the military-industrial reorganization of the Soviet Union under Stalin.

          The stylings of Socialist Realism are more easily viewed in graphic art than in musical or written form, though there existed defined principals in both of these genres.  The simplification of musical language to allow greater accessibility became a priority, sometimes at the cost of aesthetic quality as patriotic marches and songs offered composers a safe avenue for output.  These revolutionary songs, either works for small ensemble or larger pieces for choir with piano or instrumental accompaniment were termed 'Mass Songs', written as they were for an audience of the massed workers.  Religiously-inspired compositions, including those built upon Znamenny chant, became increasingly popular and were used to great success.  Mussorgsky's 'national music drama' Khovanshchina, written in 1882, takes this chant as the basis of the immolation scene in the finale, wherein Dosifey and his Old Believer followers commit mass suicide in protest at the action of the Tsar.  The music not only offers a stirring and emotional climax to the opera, it immediately establishes the moral supremacy of the Old Believers over the aristocracy – it was re-worked by Shostakovich by 1959 to restore the original grandeur of the work and was well received in both popular and official circles.

          To promote Socialist Realism, the state organized regular competitions offering prizes in recognition of musical or artistic achievement.  In addition to these awards, there were official state commissions for which artists would compete.  The requirements for such commissions would be outlined at the point of announcement (though often changed as the stages of competition progressed) and were vital opportunities for the state to dictate artistic policy in extended detail, as well as to lambast those less successful in their submissions.

          Criticism of artists would become so common under Socialist Realism that it has endured as the defining feature of the policy.  It cannot be argued, even by the Soviet Union's staunchest critics, that censorship and official commentary were new in Russia, but the scope and implications were taken to new extremes.  The most common form of criticism levelled at composers was that they exhibited 'formalist' tendencies, an accusation that was, in time, aimed at both Prokofiev and Shostakovich.  Whilst some composers, such as Shostakovich after the condemnation of Lady Macbeth of the Knutsen District in 1936, adjusted the style of writing to answer their critics, others suffered more extreme treatment with expulsion from the Union of Soviet Composers and even exile handed out as punishments.  Formalism was denounced as a decadent, anti-Communist and negative style which led to western writers, composers and artists being banned or restricted.  The wider effect of this criticism was the reduced freedom available to artists, and thus in many cases the stagnation of their output.  Cultural isolation of the Soviet Union became an issue for those both inside and out, as western Europe continued the exploration and development of more avant-garde styles.  As with so many movements and concepts, overt criticism led to rebellion moving underground and becoming more radical.  Some musicians, like Shostakovich, responded with subtle artistic counter-arguments (for example using dissonance which was often criticised, but tempered with tonality and melodic design) and his own critique of the state and its leaders.  Prokofiev, in contrast and despite his own condemnation by the state, worked to engage with Socialist Realism on a successful, musically-fulfilling basis.

          The level of censorship inherent in the Soviet state's implementation of Socialist Realism led to a perversion of its stated ideals and, in prioritising the partisan element above all others, the diminution of its other goals.  By enforcing the strictures so vehemently, the Party pushed artists away from fully embracing their message.  In almost every society, the artistic set is likely to be the most liberal as they develop their own creations through the diffracted ideas of others.  Through condemnation and criticism, the Party limited cultural growth and, in doing so, limited the ability of such people to connect with the proletariat in a genuinely socialist fashion.  The glorification of state leaders became as important, if not more so, than that of the workers (a key example being the cult of personality surrounding Stalin).  Poor artistic reflection of important personalities became as dangerous as outright political dissent, despite the cultural liberalism exhibited by the leading lights of Communist theory as originally expressed, including Marx, Engels and Lenin.

          Serge Prokofiev made the journey back to the Soviet Union in 1935 intending it to be a permanent move, having spent the preceding two years re-establishing himself with visits, commissions and premieres.  His return was not the shock that the casual observer might consider it to have been – he left the USSR on good terms with both the cultural and political establishments, and had departed for the United States in 1918 with the blessing of significant figures such as People's Commissar for Education Anatoly Lunacharsky who bid him farewell with the words 'You are a revolutionary in music, we are revolutionaries in life.  We ought to work together.  But if you want to go to America I shall not stand in your way'. His return came three years after Stalin's decree 'On the reconstruction of Literary and Art Organizations' and the establishment of the Union of Artists which would effectively oversee the work of Soviet artists, musicians and writers.

          There is a weight of academic writing which suggests Prokofiev's return to the Soviet Union and subsequent composition of early 'mass songs' (the Six Songs for Choir and Piano Op.66, Seven Songs for Choir and Piano Op.79 and Seven Songs and March for Choir and Piano Op.89) stem purely from his fear of continued criticism for 'formalist tendencies' and exist as works with a hidden, internal torment.  Whilst his use of officially sanctioned poets and their words certainly indicate a level of conformist behaviour, the quality of compositions such as Peter and the Wolf, Op.67 and the score for Alexander Nevsky suggest an acceptance not only of Socialist Realism as described by Gorky, but a greater dedication to its true meaning, rather than the distorted interpretation implemented by Soviet officialdom.

          In the mid 1920s, whilst he worked in Paris, Prokofiev was to meet the well-established and successful film-maker Sergei Eisenstein.  The two men, though not becoming close until their collaboration on Alexander Nevsky, had much in common; well educated, well travelled and coming from families of pre-Revolution status, they were also well connected in the West.  More importantly, they were both at the peak of their respective careers.  In his biography of Prokofiev, Harlow Robinson suggests that Eisenstein believed the homogenized and controlled state of the Soviet film industry was a betrayal of the creative and revolutionary ideals espoused by the artistically-liberal 'gods' of the Soviet Union, Marx and Engels. When reunited in the Soviet Union, Eisenstein expressed his desire to continue his development of culturally significant films after Strike, Battleship Potemkin and October, as well as a need to recover from the embarrassment of the failure of 1937's Bezhin Meadow.  The new work was to fit within the framework of Socialist Realism, and the guidance his previous film had evoked; it was to be direct, patriotic, less intellectual and aimed at a wider audience.  It would additionally be his first film completed with a full soundtrack.

          For his topic, Eisenstein would select the tale of Alexander Nevsky, the scrupulous and principled Prince of Novgorod who lived in the mid thirteenth-century.  With the political and  military tension of central Europe rising by the day as Hitler's National Socialists continued their terrifying dominance of Germany, the scope of nationalist movements in the arts elsewhere also grew.  Nevsky, as the hero who defeated the Teutonic, Catholic knights invading his homeland, was Eisenstein's artistic depiction of his own leader.  Robinson quotes Eisenstein's public statement after the film's release, itself alluding to Marx and Engel's conclusion to the Communist Manifesto of 1848;

                                     
          'If the might of the people's spirit could avenge itself so successfully on an enemy when   the country was still exhausted from the fetters of the Tartar yoke, then what force     could     be strong enough to destroy this country today, now that it has thrown off all its    chains of oppression?  For today our country has become a socialist Motherland, and is        led to unprecedented victories by the greatest strategist in the world – STALIN!'

 
          Alexander Nevsky was to be an epic production.  Completed in sound, the film would need a soundtrack to match the scope of its dramatic setting and visual presentation.  In Prokofiev, the film-maker had found his equal.  Whilst many composers of the period resorted to trite, tawdry pieces to satisfy their audiences and the censors in equal measure, Prokofiev committed fully to the artistic process.  He eschewed the programmatic adoption of 'period' music, instead suggesting that 'original musical material from the thirteenth century has become so alien to us in an emotional sense that it cannot supply sufficient food for the spectator's imagination'.

          In taking melodic concepts and composing truly fresh cues for the film, Prokofiev exemplified the ideals of Socialist Realism, offering a representationally realistic form accessible to the masses whilst supporting the wider aims and strength of the state and the party.  He developed two distinct soundscapes; the dark depravity of the Teutonic warriors expressed through the use of heavy brass in martial, discordant lines which are often amplified by the use of microphone techniques in recording.  Contrasting with this are the noble, strident themes of Nevsky and his followers.  Whilst the Germanic invaders are steeped in the musical heritage of Catholicism, (including at one point the Latin chant of the knights based upon Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms, reflecting his disdain for that composer's continued presence in Europe and distance from the Soviet Union), Nevsky's powerful legato leitmotif is rooted in Russian folk songs, most noticeable in the cues 'Arise ye Russian People!' and 'On the field of the Dead'.  The latter features the deeply moving voice of Mezzo-soprano Valentina Gagrina, accompanying the visual depiction of a bereaved young woman laying the souls of the dead to rest.

          Prokofiev would impress Eisentein, not purely with the quality of his composition, but with the compositional process he employed.  The two men would watch the 'dailies', the raw and incomplete sections of footage filmed each day, in the evening.  The following lunchtime, Prokofiev would return to the studio with the relevant cues completed to the second – this before the days of computer-controlled click tracks, digital synchronization and scoring assistance.  Eisenstein said at the time 'Prokofiev works like a clock. This clock isn't fast and it isn't slow.'  The film, with its twenty-one cues, was completed in just five months, a full five months ahead of schedule.  It is this dedication and driven approach that indicates Prokofiev truly believed in the value of the project, and his musical contribution.  The score is accessible and clearly illustrates the political ideals of Socialist Realism in its proletarian appeal, scenic depiction of victorious workers and 'common' people and, in equating Stalin with Nevsky, supports the standing of the Party, its leaders and therefore the state itself.

          Ironically, Alexander Nevsky would prove politically unpopular upon its release.  Stalin's manoeuvrings with Hitler and the creation of a non-aggression pact with Nazi Germany meant the film had become an embarrassment to the Soviet establishment.  However, as Hitler's naked hostility and military ambition would soon become apparent to even the somewhat delusional Stalin, the film would take its rightful place as an inspiring and masterful piece of artistic propaganda.  Prokofiev would capitalize on its success and further develop his score for Nevsky into a cantata of the same name, listed as Opus 78.  This debuted in May 1939 under the composer's baton, in a reduced scale of just seven movements totaling approximately forty minutes of music, to similar popular acclaim.  Prokofiev was to take his concept of a Soviet opera more seriously after Nevsky, and he began composition of Semyon Kotko, Op.81 in the summer of 1938 to a libretto based upon Valentin Katayev's I am the son of working people.  In the reception of this work, Prokofiev found the quality of his music overwhelmed by the concept of a truly 'Soviet' opera.  It once again embodied his own concept of Socialist Realism, and, in taking a form of art viewed in the west as elitist and making it accessible to the masses, but also about the masses, defined artistic and political sublimation.
 

          Dmitri Shostakovich spent his childhood and professional education in Russia but, whilst Prokofiev was to travel throughout Europe and to the United States, he was to spend the majority of his career in his homeland.  Whilst studying he established strong relationships with Alexander Glazunov and Leonid Nikolayev, securing his musical advancement, but struggled with the political facet of his education and was seen as lacking the passion for the Communist Party and its teachings which would have ensured successful growth in Soviet society.  Upon graduation from the Petrograd Conservatoire (later the St. Petersburg Conservatoire), Shostakovich began a short-lived dual career as a pianist and composer and at the same time wrote his second symphony.  His first was submitted as a graduation work, and the second received the subtitle 'To October' upon its premiere in 1927.  Whilst he competed in some European competitions, his pianistic style was criticized for lacking emotional commitment, whilst his satirical opera, The Nose, was dismissed in 1929 as a formalist composition.  Opening to poor reviews in 1930, the opera was to give Shostakovich his first taste of serious state criticism.

          In the late 1920s Shostakovich had begun collaboration with the collective Proletarian Youth Theatre (TRAM or Teatr Rabochey Molodyozhi).  In theory this was to assist in their work, though he seems to have paid little attention to the efforts of the group, whilst appreciating the protection from critical examination.  It also allowed him time to work on his own projects.  The major focus of his industry at this point was the opera which became Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District, Op.29.  Intended to espouse Marxist ideology, Shostakovich worked on the libretto with Alexander Preis, after the text by Nikolai Leskov.  The nature of the story required significant adaptations to satisfy the political criteria of the early 1930s – Shostakovich would explain the actions of the murderous Katerina, depicting her as the victim of pre-Revolutionary, pre-Soviet oppression.  Pearson extolls the socialist value of the opera and its composer thus;

                                       
           'Shostakovich's role as a Soviet composer consists in approaching the story critically and   in treating the subject from the Soviet point of view, while keeping the strength of Keskov's original tale'

and further that

 'Lady Macbeth as a composition is both an application of Marxist philosophy, socialist       realist aesthetics (including a concern with making the opera accessible to a popular        audience) and with a definite modernist influence'.

 
          When premiered in January 1934 the opera received positive reviews, but was soon to fall fowl of the changing winds of Soviet politics.  In 1936, Pravda (the official newspaper of the Central Committee of the Communist Party) ran an article criticizing Lady Macbeth, thought to have been written either by, or at the express order of, Stalin. This scathing critique, entitled 'Chaos instead of music' highlighted the work's 'shallow construction, lack of emotional depth and unreleased satirical tone' and labelled it as 'formalist' whilst the mention of emotional distance from the composition echoed the comments leveled against Shostakovich's piano playing earlier in his career.  This condemnation of the work led to the opera being banned for nearly thirty years, and becoming a case study in artistic censorship.  Rather than accept this criticism, perhaps by writing an official-style Cantata or similar piece, Shostakovich would withdraw his fourth symphony from rehearsal and begin work on the fifth, remaining publicly silent but privately critical of his own composition until his death.

          November 21^st 1937 heard the first public performance of Symphony No. 5 in D minor, Op.47. This grand orchestral work included elements which had been criticized, in some cases reworked into more acceptable forms (for example the huge tension of the first and third movements is resolved in the second and fourth movements, respectively), whilst others are adjusted in a more major fashion (the use of a tonal form of dissonance, for example, or the transition of sonata form into a thematic palette for continued development throughout the symphony).  The fourth movement has been identified as a message of defiance, the obvious ans repeated As  in the violins representing the 'self' and its survival of criticism – particularly after the publication of Testimony. This resistance to criticism, albeit in a manner less overt than that of some others, would be repeated and reflected in his later state compositions.

          Shostakovich's stable of official works suffered the limitations imposed by the tenets of Socialist Realism as, for the most part, they were unsuitable for performance in the west.  This means that they are less well known than his symphonies or other, larger scale compositions.  These pieces are often labelled as a 'mixed bunch' of works, with peaks and troughs – though Pauline Fairclough points out that the division of 'official' and 'non-official' pieces in respect of quality and aesthetic value is more complicated than western ears and minds normally allows for.  In his working life Shostakovich would set twenty-seven arias and popular songs, as well as composing new pieces, including some patriotic songs during World War II.  Despite the mixed reception of the official works he was respected for his wartime efforts to write socially relevant music.  Indeed, the war song The Great Day has come (also known by the alternate title Oath to the People's Commissar) became so well know it was even published in the United States as The Song of Liberation.
          In 1943, an official competition was announced to find a replacement for The Internationale as the Soviet national anthem.  Working as a professor at the Moscow Conservatoire, Shostakovich would offer three anthems as entries – his Patriotic Song or Glory to our Soviet Homeland featured words by Yevgenny Dolmatovsky; and Mikhail Golodny proffered a text which was set in two forms as Song of the Red Army, both collaborations with Georgian-Armenian composer Aram Khachaturian.  Each of the three pieces progressed to the final round of the competition; joined by contributions from Khachaturian alone, Alexander Alexandrov and Iona Tuskiya.  After a pause in proceedings, it was announced in 1944 that Hymn to the Bolshevik Party, a text by Gabriel El-Registan and Sergey Mikhailkov, would provide the lyrics for the anthem.  Shostakovich submitted two offerings – the first a reworked version of his collaboration with Khachaturian; the second was a new piece which would itself be re-used for a later stage work, Russian River, Op.66.
          The level of Shostakovich's dedication to these official works after the vicious criticism of 1936 can be assessed in his repeated re-use of this collaborative effort over the next twenty years.  The first eight bars is thought to have been written by Khachaturian, with orchestration and arrangement handled by Shostakovich.  There are some elements which avoid the usual clichés of Soviet patriotic marches; such as the use of first inversion chords and highlighting melodic peaks by substituting minor chords for major, and most obviously the Dominant 7^th pedal which runs through the chorus, delaying the final cadence against expectation and offering a conceptual longevity.  Despite this, the work was no great expression of his talents and yet was repeatedly offered as an entry to important official competitions or celebrations.  Its third use came in 1957, titled as October Dawn, this time marking the fortieth anniversary of the October Revolution, with new words by Vladimir Kharitonov.
          Russian River was initially written for a stage play given by a performing troupe from the NKVD, or People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs (otherwise recognized as the Soviet Union's secret police and those responsible for the maintenance of the Gulag work camps).  Given the politically delicate nature of such a commission, it is surprising to find that Shostakovich was to use the Song of the Red Army once or, more correctly, twice again.  It is found both in the introduction to the number 'The Battle of Stalingrad' and echoed in the 'March of the Defenders of Peace'.  Novorossiysk Chimes Op.111b, written in 1960 and premiered on September 27^th of the same year, was to re-use this material for an unprecedented fourth time – Shostakovich had thus offered versions of the same work five separate times for use in official compositions, in addition to the altered version submitted in the original competition.

          The most direct point of comparison in attitude to official state compositions between Prokofiev and Shostakovich is the latter's comments of the score for the Alexander Nevsky cantata, as quoted by Robinson;
 
          'Despite a number of amazing moments, I do not like the composition as a whole.  It seems to me that it breaks some aesthetic norms. There is too much physically loud, illustrative music'

          This criticism is not just a personal indictment of Prokofiev's work, but also draws attention to the use of the 'illustrative music' which defined Socialist Realism and its accessibility to a wider audience.  It is plausible that Shostakovich, an educated and talented musician was resistant to the movement not just because of the attacks he suffered but also because of a personal conception that not all people are equal in taste and experience.
          When he wished to write successful, interesting and aesthetically engaging compositions of an officially-sanctioned nature, Shostakovich succeeded with little visible effort – his Fifth Symphony marked a tremendous return to form and remains one of his most popular works.   That he continued to re-use the material from Song of the Red Army so often; a less developed, less interesting and less 'worthy' piece of music, is indicative of his contempt for the subject matter and the form of associated commissions; in its purest form, the glorification of the people's Party.  Is this in fact the epitome of Socialist Realism?  An official work of lower quality is reused by a composer who conforms only in the double-think interpretative viewpoint of the ruling political, social and musical elite who alternate between vicious condemnation and glorious celebration.  Prokofiev also fails to satisfy the full criteria of Socialist Realism, whilst embodying its most honest and authentic form, choosing to focus on the human aspects of the policy and eschewing direct partisan celebration as his style developed.  Composers interpreted Socialist Realism in many ways.  The point, however, is to recognise the inherent challenge in submitting personal authenticity to political judgement.