The Moscow of Monuments
Some of the sites along this tour are important because they are relics of the past and have performed the same function since their conception. Most you have seen, however, are important because they have changed over time, and because they communicate the complicated relationship Moscow has with its past.
1812 and 1941 are two of the proudest years in Russian history, and they are also similar in many ways. A great many of Moscow’s nationalist monuments commemorate or at least allude to these two huge sources of Russian pride. The failed invasions of 1812 and 1941 (made by Napoleon and Hitler, respectively), are very similar in that they were bad miscalculations of the challenges of conquering Russia and of the strategic cleverness of the Russian Army. (See the famous infographic, Item #205, the Carte figurative des pertes successives, for a fantastic representation of the path and the dwindling numbers of the French Army after Napoleon’s failed Invasion of Russia.)
The cultural-historical ethos of Russia can be well understood through these monuments to the two momentous events.
The story begins with Poklonnaya Hill. This is one of the highest locations in all of Moscow, offering sweeping views from the city. This is also the hill from which, it is said, Napoleon gazed down upon Moscow, and waited in vain (and vainly) to receive the keys to the gates and conquer the city (1).
It is no wonder, then, that upon Poklonnaya Hill has been founded Парк Победы, “Victory Park.” Although originally founded as a memorial of 1812, it now serves mostly as a commemoration of what Russians call the Great Patriotic War, World War II. This shows the remarkable associations between these two events, where armies hoping to invade were unaware of what to expect (2).
Victory Park is perhaps Moscow’s greatest physical example of nationalistic pride. With an obelisk measuring nearly 500 feet tall, several museums, an enormous collection of World War II machinery, and even a battleship, as well as a church, a synagogue, and a mosque (2). Interestingly, the patriotic pride present in this vast park hugely eclipses somber commemoration. While certain aspects of the park preserve the memory of the victims of World War II, the nexus of the park is the obelisk with its triumphant imagery of St. George slaying the Dragon. The park’s main raison d’être seems to be to exalt the power and might of Russia.
In this respect, many of the other monuments aren’t so different. The Triumphal Arch was built out of wood in 1814 to commemorate Russia’s survival of the Napoleonic Wars on Gorkiy St. (see the Moscow Map from 1838 to view its exact location). As its condition gradually decayed, a new, stone variant was planned, and built in 1829. This stood for over a century until it was pulled down during the late 1930s by the Soviet government for the sake of urban development. It was not until 1966 that the decision was made to reconstruct the arch. The job was completed painstakingly, and the new arch was built, appropriately, abutting Poklonnaya Hill (3). Although the Soviet government’s demolition of the Triumphal Arch was not expressly meant as an act of disrespect, it does show us that over time, the people and government of Russia have held varying degrees of devotion to their cultural and historical and political past. In the late 1930s, commemorating the Napoleonic Wars was not the first priority, but rather conceiving and creating a New Moscow fit for the Soviet Union.
The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier gives nuance to this notion. Located in the Alexandrovsky Gardens adjacent to Red Square, this site solemnly acknowledges those soldiers whose names have been lost. It has become a pilgrimage site of national import, which newlyweds visit to set down flowers and pay their respects. Still, it has a distinctly patriotic bent, bearing the inscription To Those Who Fell For The Motherland (2).
In order to understand Moscow’s relationship with its own history, perhaps the site that most deserves our attention is the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. This is the monument on the tour that, by far, plays the most complicated role in Russian history. It was planned as a giant monument to the strength of Russia in withstanding Napoleon’s attempts at conquering Moscow. It took nearly fifty years to complete. Finished in 1883, it stood for just short of fifty years before Stalin ordered its demolition in 1931 (2). The Soviet Union was suddenly faced with conflicting visions—to establish the greatness of the USSR while abolishing certain things of the past. Surely, celebrating a Russian victory, the original goal of the Cathedral, was not against the tenets of the new Soviet Union. However, celebration of victory that was manifested within the traditions of Russian Orthodoxy was evidently unacceptable (not dissimilarly from the Triumphal Arch). The desirable spot where the cathedral used to be, in fact, was the planned site of the Palace of the Soviets, which would have become the world’s tallest structure: a buttressed colossus topped by a huge statue of Lenin. World War II intervened, however, and the foundation where the Palace of the Soviets should have been became the world’s largest open-air swimming pool. Only in 1997, for Moscow’s 850th, was the cathedral reconstructed, similarly to the original, on its original spot.
This is the best example of Moscow’s conflicting agendas of reinvention and commemoration. The rulers of Moscow have had specific schemes for the city and everything it represents, and often these schemes collide. Victory and nationalism has been a way to manifest the political zeitgeist of Russia, and Moscow has been shaped by this process.
Russia’s two greatest victories in recent memory in particular, 1812 and 1941, have merited the creation of tremendous sites to bring to mind everything Russia has stood for. These monuments find themselves at the crux of Moscow’s continuous process of political declaration, subsequent dismissal, and re-acceptance of expressions of patriotic pride. The past has been essential to Russia’s ability to define itself, but the past itself is in the eye of the beholder.