The Economist March 19th 2022 Culture 77methods in Ukraine and the tactics em
ployed more recently by Vladimir Putin.
Death and the Penguin.By Andrey
Kurkov. Translated by George Bird.
Vintage; 240 pages; £9.99
The lurid realities of postSoviet life in
Ukraine (and elsewhere) were a gift to
satirists, but also a challenge. Novelists
struggled to compete with the grotesque
rie all around them. Andrey Kurkov—who
is chronicling the current war for 1843 , our
sister publication—managed to in this
story, first published in 1996. Viktor, the
hero, is a downonhisluck writer in Kyiv.
He is employed by a newspaper to prepare
the obituaries of living people—who
before long fall victim to clan violence.
Meanwhile Viktor keeps an ailing penguin
as a pet. A memorable portrait of lawless
ness and cynicism, but also of endurance
and the elementary need for affection.Odessa Stories.By Isaac Babel.
Translated by Boris Dralyuk.Pushkin Press;
192 pages; £10.99
Isaac Babel is one of many feted offspring
of Odessa, a place with a unique cosmopolitan atmosphere and glorious cultural
history—whose lovely boulevards and
Italianate architecture are now threatened
by invading Russian forces. In the stories
he set in the PolishSoviet war of 191921,
Babel captured the brutality of conflict in
piercing details. By contrast, these tales of
Odessa’s prerevolutionary Jewish gang
sters feature a narrator with “glasses on
[his] nose and autumn in [his] heart” and
the dauntless Benya Krik, the city’s mob
ster king. “Everyone makes mistakes,”
Benya tells the mother of a manshotby
one of his henchmen. “Even God.” n“A
rtandpoliticsshouldhavenoth
ing to do with each other.” So says
Wilhelm Furtwängler in “Taking Sides”, a
play by Ronald Harwood that imagines
an interrogation of the German maestro
in 1946. In real life Furtwängler never
joined the Nazi party and saved Jewish
musicians, but he stayed in the Reich
and performed for Hitler’s birthday. “I
believe in music,” the character says. His
is a popular tune. “I am an artist,” prot
ests Anna Netrebko (pictured), a
superstar Russian soprano who has
repudiated the war in Ukraine but not
Vladimir Putin. “My purpose is to unite
people across political divides.”
They would say that, wouldn’t they?
In reality art is deeply political, as are
artists—and not just agitprop merchants
and radical poseurs, or those who serve,
advertently or otherwise, as ambassadors
for their countries. The avowed aims of
art sound transcendent but are loaded
with value judgments: eliciting sympa
thy and compassion for strangers (risky
in Russia if the strangers are Ukrainian);
honouring personal feelings (treasonous
if the Kremlin says so); expressing emo
tions that are widely shared (except by
“fascists”). Escapism is political, if poli
tics is what you are escaping. Amid a
drift to dictatorship, and above all in a
time of war, what could be more political
than uniting people across divides?
So it is not illogical for Russian artists
to be caught in the backlash against the
invasion. In some cases, it is just. Valery
Gergiev rebuilt the Mariinsky Theatre in
St Petersburg, making it and himself
worldfamous—with Mr Putin’s backing.
The conductor duly played victory gigs
for his patron in South Ossetia in 2008
and Syria in 2016. After he refused to
condemn the latest war, Western concert
halls have cut Mr Gergiev loose (as somehaveMsNetrebko). The sound of shelling
will always rumble in his music. Rightly,
links with statecontrolled institutions
like the Bolshoi Theatre and the Hermit
age Museum have also been suspended.
In a country where the state’s influence
is broad and tentacular, association with it
can be hard to avoid altogether. Most
Russian artists, however, are neither
powerbrokers nor propagandists. Anyone
calling (from the comfort of a Western
keyboard) for them to denounce their
president might read Isaiah Berlin’s ac
count of a visit made by Shostakovich to
Oxford in 1958. At any mention of current
events, the composer fell into a “terrified
silence”, Berlin wrote. “I have never seen
anyone so frightened and crushed in all
my life.” Such is the fear a totalitarian
regime can instil in a genius, especially if
his family is stuck at home.
Many Russian artists have spoken out
anyway. Conductors, directors, rappers,
dancers, actors and filmmakers have
heroically signed antiwar petitions,
published passionate denunciations,
expressed their shame, and withdrawnfrom appearances or exhibitions in
selfcancelling protest. Many have fled
abroad. Despite their bravery, some have
been tainted, and rejected, by associa
tion. For instance, Canadian venues have
retracted their invitations to Alexander
Malofeev, a piano prodigy who wrote on
Facebook that “every Russian will feel
guilty for decades because of the terrible
and bloody decision that none of us
could influence and predict.”
That treatment is myopic and wrong.
Freethinkers in Russia need and deserve
solidarity. But remember: this too is Mr
Putin’s fault. Because of his bloodlust,
arts administrators are facing dizzying
pressures from their sponsors, perform
ers, audiences and consciences. Not
surprisingly, some are miscalculating.
War wrecks lives and spreads suffering
far beyond the battlefield.
Inevitable as they are, though, these
emergency measures should carry two
important provisos. One concerns the
future. Precisely because art is political,
and can reach across divides, emphasise
commonalities and foster understand
ing, in most cases the boycotts and can
cellations should be temporary. Even Mr
Putin will not last for ever.
The other proviso involves the past.
Today’s Russian artists are one thing;
Russian art is another. Shunning the
country’s back catalogue means giving
up a guide to the darkness, and out of it.
Cancel Dostoyevsky, as an Italian univer
sity threatened to, and you miss peerless
insights into nihilism and violence.
Blacklist Tchaikovsky—or Shostako
vich—and you silence a beauty wrenched
from the chokehold of repression. Turn
away from Malevich’s paintings, and you
forgo his urgent vision of a world cracked
open. Banishing Tolstoy means losing a
timeless prophet of peace.Back Story Crime and punishments
Disavow some Russian artists. Don’t cancel Russian art