Experimental Website


For blogging, testing Silverlight and more



Bing





















What a shame, what a disgrace is our president Barak Hussein Obama! The good news though is that his approval index is in the negative territory and getting lower and lower day by day according to Rassmussen. America is resilient and should start recovering when his time is up.

Diaries


Worshiping the Devil: Photography of Stalin in the Soviet Union by Nick Jr. (June 2009)

The story of Russia is rather dismal. It has been ravaged by war and oppressed by tyrants and seen some of history’s worst famines and atrocities. The climate is dark and cold, the land vast and empty, the people grim and worn. And the shadow of the monster that was the Soviet Union continues to hang over the country like some malicious storm cloud. But the darkest and most dismal of times were during the terrible reign of one of history’s most terrible dictators, Joseph Stalin. Enslaved under the guise of communism, the Russian people would suffer under the rule of Stalin like few peoples, enduring daily indoctrination and surveillance, mass food shortages, complete political suppression, and sporadic, indiscriminate purges. How one man managed to seize and hold such absolute power and such incredible adoration – how Stalin was able to execute the most horrifying atrocities while being universally loved as a benevolent father – is difficult to fathom. His creation of a society of fear, the constant vilification of external enemies, the systematic reduction of basic necessities in markets – these were the cornerstones of his dictatorship. Yet while they may explain how Stalin maintained power, they don’t answer the really puzzling question: how could an entire nation, how could tens of millions of people adore such a terrible man? The renowned Russian historian Edvard Radzinsky perhaps best expressed this conundrum in his biography of Stalin:

Every day the largest country in the world woke up with his name on its lips. All day long that name rang out in the voices of actors, resounded in song, stared out from the pages of every newspaper. That name was conferred, as the highest of honors, on factories, collective farms, streets, and towns. During the most terrible of all wars, soldiers went to their deaths intoning his name. […] During the political trials organized by him, his victims glorified his name as they died. Even in the camps, his portrait looked down on millions of people who, corralled behind barbed wire at his behest, turned rivers back in their course, raised cities beyond the Arctic Circle, and perished in their hundreds of thousands (Radzinsky 3).

Such adoration does not come about from mere fear or word of mouth. It was cultivated and progressed by the unprecedented use of mass propaganda in all spheres of life – be it public or private, school or work…in shops, offices, homes, or hospitals. While its style and medium and specific function varied quite a bit, virtually all of the Soviet propaganda during this period was directed toward two overarching goals: (1) glorifying communism and its heroes and (2) fostering the cult of personality around Stalin (Brandenberger 62). By its capacity to capture real people and real events and give an impression of veracity, photography was the natural medium for achieving these goals. Its narrative compression – the ability to tell a story and convey a message without (or with few) words – would be invaluable to Stalinist propaganda. And in an age without television and a country largely illiterate and “too poorly educated to be inspired by unadulterated Marxism-Leninism alone” (Brandenberger 8), photography proved especially powerful. Indeed by understanding the methods used by Soviet photographers and the forms in which Stalin’s photograph appeared we can begin to answer the main question of Stalin’s adoration. Through the two broad forms of the photomontage and the portrait, Stalin was deified and sensitized, took the role of father and the role of commander, symbolized the visionary of the future and the living example for the present.
The photomontage was pioneered by one of the Russia’s most promising avant-garde artists, Gustav Klutsis. This “method of cutting and pasting” grew out of the avant-garde experimentation in the post-Revolutionary years, a time of the “propagation of functional art” when “painting was virtually disqualified” (Tupitsyn 15). Not only was “supporting the ideology and programs of the emerging Soviet state” its overarching purpose, but the very process involved in its creation rang of the ideals of labor and production (Tupitsyn 15). In the spirit of Constructivism, the photomontage vividly displayed the labor process that spawned it, as it literally layered different photos and slogans and colors on top of each other. But the truly novel feature of Klutsis’ new technique was the ability to link and to fuse otherwise distinct ideas and symbols. This linkage would prove invaluable to the multiple roles and ideals Stalin would come to represent.
It is important to stress that by the mid-1930s the days of experimentation by Constructivists like Rodchenko were over; gone was criticism and creativity. Klutsis would turn to “mythologizing Stalin rather than agitating for the proletariat” (Tupitsyn 66). In fact, Isiah Berlin, in her study The Soviet Mind, describes the Stalin era of 1932 to 1953 as a “long blank page in the history of Russian culture.” There was “scarcely anything” that was not just a “symptom of the regime or of the methods practiced by it” (Berlin 144). Radzinsky asserts “uniformity was introduced in all cultural activity” and the “avant-garde in music and art was destroyed” (262). Socialist realism would become the only accepted style; all art was to be accessible to the masses and have a uniformity of purpose. In other words, “only works which served the Party had the right to exist” (Radzinsky 263). It is essential to understand this anti-aestheticism, this forced uniformity – this reduction of art to a tool of the Party – when considering the art of this period in Soviet history.

With the functions and features of the photomontage in mind, we can finally explore an outstanding example of Klutsis’ work (Appendix A), representative of the style and content of the propagandistic photomontage Klutsis ultimately adopted in the 1930s. Its “contrasting colors and shapes” and combination of “art and reality” was characteristic of the photomontage during this period, of its attempt to make art and ideology more “accessible and understandable” (Lafont 5-6). Created as a poster, this piece augments the photomontage with slogans, lauding the inevitable “victory of socialism” and “foundation of the socialist economy” at the top of the page while rallying the people to “over fulfill” production goals and reject the “opportunism of liberalism” at the bottom. The characteristic red color in the background of the image immediately grabs the viewer’s attention and seems to sandwich the three photographs of the photomontage together. By its widening slant at the bottom, the red outline provides a focus for the expansion of industrialization. It guides the eye over the expanding photograph of the factory and gives the impression of more beyond the boundary of the photograph, of the future of industrialization. And as white was universally associated with the color of the Czarists during the Russian Civil War following the Revolution, the shift from white to red at the top of the poster likewise conveys the change toward a better future in the bright red of communism. It is no coincidence that Stalin’s head is turned toward the red with white behind it, gazing in the direction of the expanding factory. And that the shift from white to red occurs precisely at the center of Stalin’s head, makes clear that Stalin is responsible for the new direction and better future.
That being said, the photograph part of the montage has three dimensions: that of the complex-looking factory, that of the mass crowd, and of course that of Stalin himself. Now while all these dimensions are separate and easily distinguishable, it is Stalin’s that dominates all the others. The factory, while intricate, is quite incomprehensible in all its detail. The people, while numerous, are indistinct and merge into a sea of gray at the furthest ends. Even the words, while quite distinct at the top upon the red background, become too small and too numerous to rival the authority of Stalin’s photograph. The convergence of the red and white border lines behind his head also has the effect of focusing the viewer’s attention on Stalin’s head.

The placement of Stalin’s photograph on top of the factory and before the mass of people literally fuses the ideals and future and the very hope and faith of the Soviet people with Stalin. He is the mastermind and the visionary, the determined patriarch and the unflinching commander. His characteristic hat and bold expression invoke trust and confidence; his gaze embodies the future. His sheer size, towering over the factory and the Soviet citizens has an epic quality. This quality is accentuated by the giant size of this particular poster – about 4 X 6 ft. He is a giant, a mammoth, towering above all like a god. And in fact the idea of worship, of putting all faith and hope into Stalin was a recurrent motif in his photographs and an important component of his grip on power. For while Stalin was “physically destroying the churches,” he erected statues and monuments and vast portraits of himself and Lenin (Radzinsky 238). Stalin replaced Christianity with “a Bolshevik trinity” in “Marx, Lenin, and himself” (Radzinsky 239), and this was a theme that ran across all media – statute, drawing, and most of all, photography.
But this mythological and even god-like characteristic was embodied not only by the sheer size of his photograph in such posters and montages, but also by their ubiquity. Whether poster or portrait, whether private or public sphere, Stalin’s image, and particularly his photograph, would not fail to appear on a wall. In her extensive exposé of Soviet posters, Maria Lafont asserts that “the poster followed the Soviet citizen everywhere he or she went; in trains, on the streets, in factories, offices, cafeterias, schools” (5). Such posters gave Stalin a god-like omnipresence that not only deified him but also served as a constant check on “subversive activity.” George Orwell’s famous warning in his renowned 1984, “Big Brother is watching” captured precisely this effect, this use of omnipresent imagery to create a society of fear and foster obedience. The photomontage, particularly in the form of the poster, thus created a duality of worship and fear. Much like the religious icon, it served as both an object of faith (in Stalin and communism) and an external conscience (against dissent and disloyalty).

Yet just as striking as Stalin’s epic size is the minute size of the Soviet people behind him in this photomontage. They extend behind him like a carpet, eventually becoming little more than white specks. This extreme indistinctness captures the essence of the egalitarian ideals of communism. All people equally share the glory of the pobeda sotsializma – the victory of socialism – captioned at the very top of the poster, and all people equally bear the burden of industrialization embodied by the factory photograph at the bottom. And yet, however compelling this semblance of equality, the towering figure of Stalin seems to directly contradict it. How could there be a supreme, god-like leader in an egalitarian society?

Although this hypocrisy may seem obvious to the objective observer, it must be considered in the scope of the times and the propaganda and indoctrination that defined them. The essential goal was not merely acceptance of the ideology of communism; it was the blind following of Stalin and the Party line, no matter how fallacious or absurd it was. The ability to deliberately ignore inconsistencies and contradictions in the Party – to “doublethink” as Orwell affectionately called it – was characteristic of the mass of Soviet citizens. That is why Soviet people, and especially those that must be “articulate in public – writers, artists, scientists, academic persons and intellectuals of every kind,” developed an “extraordinary acuity of ear […] toward the faintest changes of tone in the Party line” (Berlin 103-104). They had a “helpless ignorance” of the “direction in which the ‘line’ is likely to veer” and their lives depended on being able to adapt seamlessly to the various “zigzags” and inconsistencies that characterized the Party and Stalin himself (Berlin 104). Whether or not the Soviet people self-deluded themselves in this way, the terrible reality was that those who “veered” of the Party line would ultimately be silenced.

Before progressing to the other side of the spectrum of photographic propaganda in the form of the portrait, it is important to understand that the goals of Soviet propaganda were motivated as much by a desire to obfuscate reality as to inspire loyalty and adoration. For not only did Stalin periodically “zigzag” in his ideology and enemies and goals, but his assertions of success and promises of a brighter future proved horribly incongruent with Soviet life. And yet the masses still loved him; such was the power of the cult of personality that was created around him. In his defining biography of Stalin, based on once-locked state archives, Radzinsky unveils the Terror and famine that gutted the nation during the 1930s. Forced collectivization – the systematic annihilation of the skilled and prosperous farmers – would result in “living conditions fit only for animals” and “emaciated peasants too weak to walk straight – wraith-like creatures.” As much as eight million people would die in this famine, and all the while “grain exports to Western Europe continued without interruption.” Why? To “drag” the “broken-backed country along the road to industrialization” (251). This is the critical point. Amid the slogans of the “victory of socialism” we saw in the photomontage above, amid the “surpluses of grain and steel” cited in the Soviet newspaper Pravda (ironically meaning “truth” in English), and amid other such rubbish, the dark reality was unprecedented famine and deprivation. And as the once-prosperous peasants were starved to death, the so-called intelligentsia, engineers and scientists and artists and military leaders – and later their relatives – would be systematically shot or sent to the gulags. Hundreds of thousands of innocent men and women would be annihilated in these purges. In light of this horror, the photographic propaganda in Stalin’s USSR takes on a new light that even Nazi Germany cannot attest to. It created a fictional world, directly contradicted by the reality of everyday life. The near universal admiration of Stalin that existed in spite of the terror and famine attests to the absolute monopoly on ideas and thought that propaganda like Klutsis’ photomontage above achieved.

But while the photomontage could inspire myth and awe and fuse Stalin to the successes and future of the nation, it was the portrait with its complete focus on the Stalin, and Stalin alone, that inspired admiration of a more intimate kind and functioned to separate him from the realities of the living conditions and purges. An exceptional example of such a portrait is shown in Appendix B, where Stalin lights a pipe in a photograph taken by the Telegraphic Agency of the Soviet Union (TASS) in 1936. As in the photomontage, we only see the upper torso of Stalin, his head dominating photo. However, now he is captured in an everyday task, in a pose at once private and even intimate. Comrade Stalin is not looking to the future; he’s not commanding the people; there are no slogans or captions; he doesn’t even seem to be aware that he is being photographed. Indeed his eyes are hidden and his action is a quite normal one. His delicate hold of the match in one hand and the pipe in the other convey a care for and proficiency in small tasks. All of these details vividly contrast to the grandeur and ascendency portrayed in Klutsis’ photomontage. And yet, it is important to note that TASS was an agency “rigidly controlled by the Kremlin” and covered only the stories that the “Kremlin wanted covered” and produced only the images the “Kremlin wanted produced” (Radetsky 13). It would be TASS that ultimately produced the portraits carried in rallies and hung in state offices.

The seeming privacy and intimacy of this photograph is thus quite deliberate and calculating, yet another gear in the propaganda factory of the Soviet Union. The fact is Stalin was well aware that being a warm and compassionate father figure was as vital to his power and popularity as being the strong, indefatigable commander. And in fact perhaps “popularity” is an inaccurate term in describing Stalin in the context of the portrait photograph at hand. For you do not call your father or closest friend “popular.” No – the slightly furrowed brow combines with the delicacy of his movement to depict a thoughtful and sensitive Stalin to be trusted as the closest of friends or family. Observing Stalin at such a humble task creates an indelible sense of intimacy and humanity that is absent in the photomontage.

Yet at the same time Stalin is given these more delicate human features, the photographer makes clear that Comrade Stalin is not just any human being. His thick hair and full moustache and starkly fair skin exude vitality and robustness. There is no blemish, no imperfection in his face or in his clothes, plain as they are. The glossy hair, perfectly brushed and dazzling amid the dark background, seems to echo his very name, derived from the root stal, meaning steel. The polished quality of hair and clothes and skin gives an indelible sense of physical perfection. And yet at the same time, the photographer manages to accompany this aura of physical ascendency with moral or even spiritual ascendency. For even as the glistening hair alludes to Stalin’s powerful name, so does it have a distinct halo-like quality. Indeed when combined with the smooth fairness of his skin and the thoughtful, private nature of the photograph, the halo gives Stalin an aura of purity and incorruptibility. Thus there seems to be a powerful duality to the smooth whiteness of skin and glossiness of hair. While giving a sense of prime health and physical robustness, it simultaneously inspires a certain moral reliability and ascendency.

There is still a third dimension to the photograph, deeply linked to the ideals of industrialization and production so critical to the Soviet system. It is no coincidence that the (relatively modest) task Stalin is depicted in performing requires the careful use of both hands and a flame. As the human objects of labor, efficiency, and production – not to mention loyalty and solidarity – hands are ubiquitous in Soviet propaganda. Stalin does not merely engage in a private, domestic activity; he also leads by example, illuminating the delicacy and precision necessary in the work force. He holds the flame, the flame of the furnaces of the USSR’s industrialization, the flame of hope and direction for the Soviet people. Thus the portrait at hand serves many of the same purposes as the photomontage; it likewise idealizes him to a model of perfection and it likewise encapsulates the ideals of labor and production so vital to the unremitting goal of industrialization. However, these purposes are subtly placed in the intrinsically personal portrait and operate more in the subconscious domain than in the active domain. Thus the portrait not only endows Stalin with a warm, agreeable aura distinctly lacking in the photomontage, but also propagates the latter’s myth and awe around Stalin without its direct rhetoric.

All of this may seem well and good, but there is an undeniable lack of consistency in these rhetorical functions I have outlined for the two forms of photographic propaganda. What is its true function? Does it seek to humanize or idealize Stalin? Does it mean to underline Stalin’s physical or moral perfection? Does it hope to show him as a warm father or a living example of the ideal labor process? In truth, Soviet propaganda attempted to achieve all of these effects through such photographic endeavors as Klutsis’ Pobeda Sotsializma and the TASS’ portrait of Stalin lighting a pipe. The goal was not consistency or ideological clarity. The communist ideals of the Revolution took a back seat, energies were shifted to something more concrete and understandable and accessible – the adoration of one man. The propaganda machine would crank with renewed vigor to elevate this man to the highest pedestal, to infuse every aspect of life, every hope and dream, every thought with his image. Only then could there be unity and loyalty, only then could the famine and terror be endured… only then could an entire nation be hoodwinked into slavery and the worship of the Devil.

Bibliography

Berlin, Isiah. The Soviet Mind. Brookings Institution Press: Washington D.C., 2004.
Brandenberger, David. National Bolshevism. Harvard University Press: Cambridge 2002.
Lafont, Maria. Soviet Posters. Prestel: New York, 2007.
Radetsky, Peter. The Soviet Image. Chronicle Books: San Francisco, 2007.
Radzinsky, Edvard. Stalin. Hodder & Stoughton: London, 1996.
Tupitsyn, Margarita. Gustav Klutsis and Valentina Kulagina: Photography and Montage After Constructivism. Steidl: 2004.


The West and Never-Dying KGB Mentality (May 2009)

The NKVD (KGB) of Stalin's era especially did not like intelligent and educated people because those who could think and speak posed the biggest threat to the dictator's power. It is also interesting that Stalin's NKVD in many cases did not touch people who would seem unlikely to even remotely engage themselves in politics or clear thinking at all, such as drunkards or other low life subjects. So--as an extra punishment for engineers, doctors, writers, etc.--he simply put them together with killers and other hard core criminals in his concentration camps in Siberia. As a result, the "intelligentsia" suffered not only from the official guards but also from the criminals that inhabited and ruled the labor camps. My father, a mechanical engineer by profession, often times with a great degree of humor told me the horror stories from his own experience there for 10 years, from August 1937 to 1947. Why am I--who lives with comfort in the West--thinking about these events that took place about 70 years ago in Stalin's Russia? Well, I think this is because I keep on getting news that are not encouraging at all. The history definitely has a tendency to repeat itself again. And a good example is the Michael Savage ban from the degrading UK. Think about it. It is ok to have home grown terrorists who dream to overthrow the British government, but it is not ok to have Michael Savage in the UK! What about banning dictators and real home grown killers who are in big supply in the UK? The home grown terrorists do not pose as big a threat as the threat of the free thinker Michael Savage coming to Great Britain! Sounds familiar?

It was interesting to see how the so called "main stream" media here in America, the last bastion of hope, reacted on the news. One would expect the news of suppressing the free speech to be on the front pages and TV channels everywhere. After all, isn't America a great defender of free speech? I expected a firm and unconditional rejection of the actions of the current UK government, but what did I see? I saw a shy and slow in "low voice" statements from only some of the major TV channels, such as CNN. And what about the well known fair and balanced Fox News? Nothing at all for 2-3 days, as if Fox News waited to see where the wind blows, in which direction. Then followed a short and strange discussion on the O'Reily Factor, in which the name of Michael Savage was not even pronounced. Unbelievable Fox News "fairness"! Yes, even pronouncing the name of Michael Savage is forbidden on Fox News. That how much he is considered dangerous. All this is disturbing and frustrating to watch for someone who lived and experienced the KGB police state with his own skin.

Here are the golden words that come to my mind over and over:

I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.

Voltaire

And the words of Martin Niemoller, the great German protestant minister who for years suffered in Nazi concentration camps for his outspoken Christian beliefs in the face of Hitler's genocidal mania. Niemoller wrote these poignant lines:

When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.

Then they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.

Then they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews,
I did not speak out;
I was not a Jew.

When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out for me.