Russia in France
Illustration by Rebecca Nolten
Since February 24th of last year, Emmanuel Macron and his government have been amongst the most active supporters of the Ukrainian war effort, providing training, air defence systems, and waging heavy sanctions against Putin’s regime. This clash could be seen as a new avatar of the complex historical relations between France and Russia, where government policy and artistic wonder frequently enter into conflict.
Franco-Russian historical relations have never been easy. The Napoleonic war, for example, saw French armies reach and eventually retreat from Moscow, finding that the city had been burnt to the ground before their arrival. Moreover, Imperial Russia (which Putin appears to wish to emulate) was threatened by European democratic ideals. Whilst the Tsars and Tsarinas could delight in European ballets, operas, and piano music, French revolutionary freedom and equality or British Parliamentarianism proved far harder to swallow.
In the Russian context art has historically provided refuge from and an alternative to government totalitarianism. Across the texts of great 19th-century Russian literature, authors served a double role as dissidents and creatives, their texts provided not only entertainment, but expounded philosophical ideas. From Chernyshevsky’s 1863 What is to be Done? to the subversive Soviet works of Pasternak or Solzhenitsyn, this we have seen this role replayed time and time again. It is no coincidence that Russian ballet, opera, classical music, and literature are so famous: they blend virtuosity with serious meaning and artistic purpose in a uniquely spellbinding combination.
It is the survival of this Russia, the subversive, the creative, the world-famous beauty, that stands in timeless opposition to autocracy. Being unable to travel to Russia as I had originally intended this year, it was bizarrely during my time in Paris that I was able to experience snatches of Russian art and culture. The brief glimpses of exiled creativity and kind spirit that I encountered during my time in Paris give hope that Russian authoritarianism has not entirely extinguished the good of Russian people.
The signs of a historical Russian, and indeed Ukrainian, influence on Paris are easy to find if you are looking. A Ukrainian Church with its garden named for Taras Shevchenko, the country’s national poet, can be found just off Boulevard St Germain; the metro map will point you to Réaumur-Sébastopol, or indeed to Kremlin-Bicêtre and Stalingrad. Even alongside the Eiffel Tower, near Pont d’Alma, the familiar Parisian skyline is interrupted by the shining golden domes of the Russian Orthodox Holy Trinity Cathedral.
But Russian presence in Paris is far from a bygone phenomenon. The recent headline show of the Comédie Française, the emblematic institution of French theatre, was Chekhov’s Cherry Orchard. This stunning performance, and even more remarkable French translation of the text was met with an ovation of several minutes. For anyone arriving in January, there will also be an innovative staging of The Brothers Karamazov by Sylvain Creuzevault at the Odeon Theatre that certainly particularly exciting.
Russian modern art, too, still dazzles visitors in Parisian galleries, alongside Delaunay, Cezanne, and Renoir. The permanent collection of the Pompidou Centre alone houses several of the most famous Kandinsky, Goncharova, and Malevich pieces. Thus, in the city where so much of the Russian intelligentsia has fled in previous centuries, art that pushed the boundaries of contemporaneous norms continues to inspire Parisians and tourists alike.
However, Russian creative spirit also survives on a more local level. In November I visited a couple of open mic nights, the most impressive of which being Escargot Underground Radio, run by the eccentric Igor Chapeau, named on account of his iconic green hat. The evening was hosted in a tiny underground cellar, in a bar totally devoid of any sort of health and safety regulations. I had been led there after discovering Russian and Ukrainian poets in the open mic night of the Au Chat Noir in the 11th arrondissement. The mix of performers was eclectic, with comedy sketches, comedy songs, and some truly fascinating renditions of Mika’s Lollipop…
It is hard to sing of the beauty of a country whose leader is waging an unforgivable war against an innocent nation. Since February of this year, the invasion of Ukraine has triggered a perhaps long-overdue re-evaluation of Russian studies. Indeed, Russia as Empire, as coloniser, and the ongoing influence of Soviet hegemony is a field of study that is still heavily underexplored. My only hope, as a lover of Pushkin, Tolstoy, Tchaikovsky, and many other classics is that the literary and artistic wealth that Russia has to offer the world will not also be destroyed. Art that brings people together, art that subverts the norms of form and colour of its day, art that changes and conditions our daily interactions: it is this Russian heritage and Russian culture that continues to thrive abroad, representing the beauty that often cannot be sung from behind borders. I only hope that poets and painters continue to inspire us, and that we people continue to love the very same Russian texts and artworks that can teach us so much.