A Foundation for Russia? Memories of World War II for Young Russians

Abstract

How do young Russians relate to World War II and the violence of the wartime period? This article explores the degree to which societal and elite-driven narratives about history converge in the context of a crucial historical anniversary. We demonstrate that the memory of World War II serves as an integrative historical event for an abstract, temporally transcendent idea of Russia. Our analysis draws on focus groups conducted among young people of different political orientation in June 2019, survey data targeting urban youth, conducted over three consecutive years (2018–2020), and cultural artifacts such as film and literature. There is significant overlap between the views that young people express about victory and commemoration and the prevailing cultural, political, educational, and historical discourses. However, there is significant controversy when it comes to the actual ways in which the current political regime remembers the victory, the role of Stalin, and how to understand violence against the civilian population. The shared historical view that the Putin regime has created therefore remains contested. Disagreement limits the extent to which memory can be a foundation for today’s political Russia as young respondents differentiate between their support for an abstract ideal of Russia and the existing political system.

Introduction

In one of several focus groups discussing historical memory in June 2019, a young translator from Yekaterinburg argued: “We would have not won [the Great Patriotic War] ¹ without a strong, dictatorial hand. Under someone like Nicholas II it would have been completely different; they [the soldiers] would have run away because there would have been nothing to fear.” Another participant, a wealthy information technology (IT) entrepreneur, underlined that Stalin ensured that “production rose and that people did not starve” and “that people had a workplace and that there was a fair momentum moving into the future.” Both young men were well educated and expressed primarily critical views of today’s Russian government—even going so far as to participate in protests—but nonetheless echoed the historical narratives that dominate Russia’s political spheres.

Young focus group participants who supported Vladimir Putin’s regime used the approval of Stalin’s historical persona as a foundation for their understanding of Russia’s post-war history. One participant, an economist from St. Petersburg, highlighted Stalin’s positive impact after World War II: “We went to space. He laid the foundation, the base in the difficult post-war period. They rebuilt the whole country, the birth rate simply exploded.”

Support for Stalin was widespread also among those who described themselves as politically indifferent. A young musician from St. Petersburg, for example, praised Stalin: “Only this kind of person could resist a tyrant like Hitler. Maybe they were equivalent in some way, and there is some kind of negativity in their personality itself. But I believe that Stalin was more positive, because he was one of us.” Voices critical of Stalin were rarer and spoke about the violence without concrete historical agents. One bank employee from Yekaterinburg who has participated in protests, explained “Everyone knows what the Gulag is and what happened there. Everyone knows how many innocent people were pulled out of their apartments for a random word.”

These statements reflect three groups of young people: regime supporters, the politically indifferent, and those critical of today’s government. However, despite their differing assessments of the present, members of each group shared an implicit understanding of what the past means in the present. Those loyal to the regime and those who were politically indifferent emphasized the importance of Russia’s economic development and international strength and expressed admiration for Stalin. Even among those critical of the regime, a one-sided view on Stalin was pervasive. Overall, young Russians’ knowledge of Stalinist repression has decreased over time (Varum 2020) and only a few participants in the focus groups mentioned these phenomena unprompted, speaking to a rather abstract and depoliticized relationship to that era. A significant shift in political discourse compared to the Medvedev presidency, when the importance of knowledge about the “greatest tragedy in the history of Russia” was deemed important (Gill 2013, 68).

While the Russian regime expends huge resources on the annual Victory Day celebrations on May 9, critical assessments of the war have largely disappeared from television, history textbooks, and museums. However, we demonstrate that polyphony persists in young people’s historical memories, reflecting the inherently pluralistic and sometimes subversive memories expressed in cultural artifacts such as literature. What narratives of the war exist in the cultural field, and how do these relate to what young people make of the war?

This article develops an interdisciplinary approach to explore the historical narratives around World War II shared by young Russians by embedding them in their cultural and political context. Young people are critical for the transmission of historical narratives in Russia (Kasamara and Sorokina 2015) and personal family experience of past events matters greatly for how people assess history across generations (Gerber and van Landingham 2021). In an increasingly authoritarian country, where the regime’s capacity to influence its population seems far-reaching, the question of how the production of memories relates to what young people make of history is particularly salient. Indeed, World War II has emerged as the centerpiece of Russia’s memory architecture over the past 20 years, and it is increasingly a dividing factor in the foreign policies between former Communist countries (Fedor, Lewis and Zhurzhenko 2017; Koposov 2017). ²

Vladimir Putin proclaims this centrality, as in a typical statement from January 2020: “Our memory serves our future, inspires us and strengthens our unity. We must protect the truth about the victory.” (Ren.tv, January 15, 2020) In particular in his third presidential term, Putin has acted as a historian. He responded forcefully for instance against a 2019 European resolution that assigned co-responsibility to the Soviet Union for the outbreak of the war with reference to the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact (Soroka and Krawatzek 2021). Instead, the Russian president underlined Polish antisemitism and the failed Allied policies of appeasement.

However, while the memory of World War II provides a far-reaching foundation for young Russians’ self-understanding, this shared historical foundation is not synonymous with support for the current regime and its monopolization of history, even if Russians feel pride in their political leadership (Greene and Robertson 2019, 101). Moreover, as Sharafutdinova underlines, most Russians do not associate Stalin with mass murder but rather the economic expansion and industrialization, which looks all the more admirable given the dire state of today’s economy (2020, 5).

The Russian situation is, however, not unique. Since the 19th century, nation-building efforts across political regimes have attempted to shape how youths perceive national history (Jobs 2007; Krawatzek 2018; Weinrich 2013). Young people are frequently at the center of societal and political efforts to shape the transmission of historical narratives, since memory plays a key role in their socialization (Nugin 2016; Popov and Deák 2015). Furthermore, young people have the potential to influence their parents’ views on history, contributing to cross-generational interpretations of the past (Davis 2017, 257).

As witnesses to World War II dwindle in number, memories of the war are increasingly subject to mediated transmission. In such a critical period, personal relationships to historical events become multi-layered, and the categories of “victim” and “perpetrator” become increasingly blurred (Rothberg 2019). Since “generational belonging mediates access to memory,” generational change may alter historical understanding (Feindt et al. 2014, 39; Wydra 2018, 6). Simultaneously, the reproduction of society over time may also lead to the reiteration of previous generations’ historical representations: younger generations may, as a result, reiterate their ancestors’ lines of memory conflict, which is significant given that generations sustain cultural and political identities (Hirsch 2012; Jureit 2005; Wohl 1979). As a result, memory provides a unique discursive substance that creates temporal bridges in societies (Eyerman 2004, 161). ³

Rituals, understood as the repeated performance of memories, play an important role in building these cross-generational bridges in memory. Research on the intergenerational transmission of the Holocaust has emphasized the importance of rituals to allow successive generations developing an emotional bond to the witnesses and participants (Jacobs 2011). In the Soviet and post-Soviet Russian context, trauma intersects with heroism in a situation where it is impossible to clearly distinguish between witnesses, victims, and perpetrators (Merridale 2002). Citizens of the former Soviet countries can trace links to family members that perpetuated the violence of the Stalinist regime, who fell victim to it, or who were involved in heroically fighting for the Red Army. One would thus expect contradictory and often personal historical memories to be evident in World War II narratives. Moreover, the meaning of these personal histories has been part of radically shifting political contexts and, by implication, the official war narrative (Tumarkin 1994, 221).

Nonetheless, the intergenerational transmission of memories has followed ritual patterns in the USSR and Russian Federation. These include young people’s involvement in state-sponsored youth organizations, the development of history and literature curricula in schools, the persistent re-editing and re-publishing of certain iconic books of the Soviet period, and the showing and (re)making of wartime films. Each of these phenomena constitutes and reconstitutes identities.

In the following pages, we consider the sources that influence young people’s narratives of the war and subsequently proceed to discuss our empirical data—focus group interviews and online surveys—and the interdisciplinary method of our analysis. Our data reveal the historical events that young people consider most relevant for understanding today’s Russia, and we discuss areas of confluence and disagreement between the cultural representations and the meanings for young people.

Framing the War for Young People

As World War II and the historical experience of authoritarianism and fascism recede into the past, these periods have become an object of intergenerational transmission of memory and paved the way for shifting memory regimes. For example, analyses of highly contested memories in Spain demonstrate that the generation of Franco’s grandchildren has been crucial to today’s mnemonic agenda. However, successive generations have replicated contradictory historical experiences in contemporary remembrances, inhibiting the emergence of a clear historical agenda, despite later generations’ more critical stance toward human rights abuses during Franco’s reign (Aguilar and Ramírez-Barat 2019, 214). In Soviet Russia, a similar interest in addressing difficult history existed among the younger generation during perestroika, who were central to the Memorial movement, which investigated the crimes of Stalinism (Adler 1993; Sigman 2009).

Historical narratives in Russia—in particular those relating to World War II—come both from the Kremlin and from intellectuals. Sidelining the trauma of the event, it is the officially emphasized heroic victory. In post-war Soviet Russia, as in Spain, a mnemonic agenda that made certain topics a societal taboo emerged. Nonetheless, a cultural discourse that more openly explores the contradictions of the war has persisted in private family settings (Labanyi 2009, 24). This freezing of a memory regime on the societal level has taken place as Russia’s political elites have become committed to imposing a single memory regime.

We discuss below four sociocultural phenomena that have framed war memory—patriotic education, history textbooks, literature, and film—and explore what narratives each of these phenomena emphasize. Taken together, the four phenomena explain the multiple ways in which history shapes the understanding of World War II shown by the young people who participated in our surveys and focus groups. To that end, we analyzed a corpus of cultural artifacts, including canonical literary texts and films on World War II. These have been widely and consistently distributed across the country and have contributed to shaping a popular picture of the war. To understand what the Russian state wants its youth to read, we evaluated the role of World War II narratives in the Russian Ministry of Education’s framework curriculum for literature. Finally, we examined books targeted at young readers and Russian films dealing with the war released over the past five years.

Patriotic Education: State Policy, Movements, and Clubs

The memory of World War II plays an important role in the state’s policy of inculcating patriotism through youth movements and clubs. Vladimir Putin has frequently emphasized the importance of patriotism as part of the state’s efforts at strengthening support for the government among the younger generation (TASS 2019a). State programs of patriotic upbringing were introduced as far back as 2001, but the focus has shifted to the military dimension of patriotism since 2012, with Putin’s third term as president (Sanina 2017, 45). The open confrontation with the West following the annexation of Crimea and the outbreak of war in Ukraine’s Donbas region, has accelerated this development and fueled demands to militarize patriotic education (Lassila 2020, 3). Patriotic education is central to the current regime, although this type of education is not unique to Russia (Curren and Dorn 2018; Jackson 2010; Żuk 2018). The state continues to inculcate patriotism in the youth population through funding and co-opting youth movements and expressions of broader youth culture (Lerner 2019).

Young Russians tend to understand patriotism as a mix of individualism (a focus on material wellbeing) and of conformity (adherence to a state-led patriotism stripped of its inherent political connotations) (Goode 2016, 423). At the same time, state programs designed to promote patriotism fail to incorporate the views of young people in a meaningful way. These programs cannot genuinely motivate young people and instead contribute to a widening gap between the expectations held by young people and the state’s view on patriotism, unlike previous youth movements such as Nashi that still captivated young people occasionally (Hemment 2012). Moreover, patriotism differs by age: younger Russians conceive of patriotism as a readiness to defend their motherland, whereas older generations prioritize the return to purportedly Soviet values such as collective symbolic practices and strong social control (Omelchenko et al. 2015, 367). The state seeks to resolve these tensions with its nationwide youth programs.

Iunarmiia—the All-Russia “Young Army” National Military Patriotic Social Movement Association—is one example of how the military and spiritual dimension of patriotic education is enacted. Initiated by Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu in 2016, the movement counts eighty-five regional branches. According to official numbers, Iunarmiia had approximately 730,000 members aged 8-18 as of December 2020, a figure well below the official target of one million members for the 75th anniversary of the end of the war. Nevertheless, activities have also reached into other post-Soviet countries (Tarasov 2019; TASS 2019b), and members of Iunarmiia prominently participate in numerous public events, notably the annual Victory Day marches.

Our surveys show that young people are increasingly aware of the movement. In 2018, only 10% of respondents recognized Iunarmiia, and by 2020, 18% of respondents knew of it. Its numerous activities also illustrate the performative integration of young people into the shared historical canon. In 2020, the victory celebrations were central for the movement’s activities. Members joined the numerous online activities that substituted for the large-scale activities during the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic. ⁴

Beyond such top-down controlled movements, young people are engaged in more decentralized activities related to the memory of World War II. One example are the Immortal Regiment marches (Arkhipova et al. 2017; Fedor 2017). These popular marches were first organized to mark Victory Day in 2012 and take place today across the country and abroad (Davydova-Minguet 2021). Whereas the first Immortal Regiment marches consisted of the display of portraits of family members who fought during World War II, they are increasingly a demonstration of patriotism and militarism. Some participants wear military uniforms or sing war hymns, thereby transforming a commemorative event into a restaging of wartime victory marches themselves.

The state does not have an absolute hold on patriotic youth groups, as a range of independent patriotic youth clubs exists. Young members of these clubs tend to endorse notions of patriotism that do not necessarily replicate the Kremlin’s patriotic expectations (Laruelle 2015). Indeed, whereas the Kremlin expects true patriots to be first and foremost supporters of the political regime, the young people who engage in grassroots clubs do not connect patriotism and support for the current political regime. Instead, they see their engagement as supporting a much larger, temporally transcendent idea of Russia, and, therefore, as a depoliticized and personal commitment to an abstract idea of a historically situated Russia.

History Textbooks: The Unification of Interpretations

The transmission of patriotism is moreover a central aspect of history teaching. The current education minister, Ol’ga Vasil’eva, who holds a PhD in history and is sympathetic to Stalin’s leadership style, has been a key actor in this area. The textbooks in use today generally affirm a time-transcending Russian identity and thereby bridge different generations, who are encouraged to come together in their support of today’s state project. They are also void of agents when discussing Stalinist repression and justify Stalinist rule more generally as a necessity for the Soviet Union’s survival (Nelson 2015). Today, the central doctrine for history textbooks is The Historical and Cultural Standard (Rabochaia gruppa 2013). Discussions about creating a standard textbook began in late 2012; a working group comprising academic historians and teachers and led by Aleksandr Chubarian released The Standard in 2013. ⁵

In practice The Standard defines the federal program in history and demonstrates the explicit ambition of Russia’s education system to transform young citizens into loyal members of the nation. There were initial concerns that this text would pave the way for a single history textbook, but The Standard rather outlines the rules for history textbooks that share one educational and methodological attitude (Readik.ru 2020). For example, in 2016, Vasil’eva endorsed three series of textbooks that have been criticized for their limited discussion of Stalinist repression and emphasis on Stalin-era industrialization (Pushkarev 2016). ⁶

Notably, The Standard provides an approved interpretation of the 20th century’s historical controversies. It contains a supplementary list of 31 “difficult questions of history,” comprising themes such as the shared historical foundation between Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus, but also the “price of the Soviet victory in the Great Patriotic War.” ⁷ Around two-thirds of these questions relate to the 20th century, concluding with an assessment of the “causes, consequences and assessment of the stabilization of the Russian economy and political system in the 2000s.”

State-sponsored patriotic education also extends into the ways that an even younger constituency marks major celebration days, down to kindergarten age. Here, the emphasis lies on expanding children’s vocabulary and building an emotional bond between them and their ancestors. Meanwhile, battles are to be staged in kindergarten sandpits. Many manuals on patriotic education target children aged 3 to 7, a noteworthy shift from the patriotic education of Soviet times (Sanina 2017, 137–142).

Nevertheless, even an increasingly restrictive state struggles to maintain full control of the educational system. An analysis of textbooks has shown that a certain diversity persists in spite of all homogenization of historical thinking. When it comes to questions of the Cold War’s origin, for instance, authors place the blame on both sides of the conflict (Khodnev 2019). Moreover, a gap persists between the official requirements and the reality of what teachers prefer to teach and how they treat certain topics (Filina 2019).

Literature: A Wide Kaleidoscope of Viewpoints

Literary texts shaped the Soviet view of World War II from the beginning of the war, and continue to have an enormous influence today. ⁸ Writers such as Il’ia Erenburg, Vasilii Grossman, and Konstantin Simonov were among Soviet war reporters. ⁹ In the post-war period, their experiences, diary entries, and the initial reporting became the basis for literary texts (Chandler 2019, ix-xxv). Even under the late Stalin era’s heavy censorship, literature was also a site where a picture of the war that contradicted the official heroic picture could be published. Some early works, such as Viktor Nekrasov’s In the Trenches of Stalingrad (1946), contributed to defining the genre of Soviet war literature. Nekrasov depicted a cruel everyday life at the frontline, showing the Red Army’s chronic supply shortages, some soldiers’ lack of discipline, and the ever-presence of death. Nekrasov’s novella was awarded the Stalin Prize in 1947, although it was harshly criticized for its limited perspective on the war—a perspective literally drawn from the trenches—which did not correspond to the dominant narrative perspective at the time of an “omnipresent Tolstoy-like author” (Kahn et al. 2018, 728). ¹⁰ This frank perspective made Nekrasov’s work a revelatory text on the war. It influenced other writers of so-called lieutenant’s prose, such as Konstantin Vorob’ev, Vasil’ Bykov, and Viktor Astaf’ev (Kahn et al. 2018, 728; Stepanova 2015, 37–38). ¹¹ To this day, literature continues to be a site of conflicting assessments of the wartime period.

Most contemporary reiterations of the war narrative itself occur by means of popular, previously published texts and films and, therefore, perpetuate Soviet perspectives. Soviet war literature is still heavily reprinted, often as part of anthologies of popular classics. ¹² Although these texts were originally written for a broader Soviet audience, many are listed on school curricula in 2020. ¹³ Judging by the number of teaching hours it is allotted in the curriculum, literature remains one of the most important subjects in schools. In their final two years of secondary school, pupils have no less than three lessons a week in Russian literature (Ministerstvo obrazovania i nauki RF 2004). The framework curriculum for literature, published by the Russian Ministry of Education, lists authors and texts that must (category A), should (category B), and may (category C) be read (Ministerstvo prosveshcheniia RF 2016). All texts about World War II fall in category C, leaving teachers significant choice.

The official framework includes Nekrasov’s aforementioned famous novella, poems by Aleksandr Tvardovskii, short prose by Astaf’ev and Boris Vasil’ev and Grossman’s epic novel Life and Fate (1980). The texts provide a wide range of literary perspectives on World War II: they describe combat operations in great detail, praise Soviet feats and solidarity in the Red Army, and highlight German cruelties both in combat and against civilians. Surprisingly, many texts touch on sensitive issues, such as the Red Army’s serious supply shortages, its lack of discipline, and—particularly in Life and Fate—the ongoing Stalinist repression.

The Russian book market also offers a wide array of texts written for children, mostly non-fiction or new editions of Soviet texts. Series like 75 Years of the Great Victory: The War for Children (from AST, one of Russia’s leading publishing houses), reissue works by well-known Soviet authors such as Arkadii Gaidar, Konstantin Paustovskii, and Aleksei Tolstoi. The republished works focus on what World War II meant for children: growing up without fathers, and in permanent fear of receiving news of their father’s death. At the same time, the children depicted are convinced that their fathers will defeat the German occupiers, because their war—unlike the German war—is a just one. Meanwhile, as an act of patriotic duty, the children help their mothers, who symbolize the motherland as a whole. The children themselves are ready to fight at any time for their country. For example, the short story March by Gaidar tells the story of a boy preparing to join the Red Army. When he is finally ready, the war is over. ¹⁴ Still, the text highlights the readiness for the fight even among the youngest citizens. The Russian book market also offers alternative perspectives on World War II by contemporary authors. For instance, Iuliia Iakovleva’s serial Leningrad Tales (published from 2016 onwards), depicts life under Stalinist repression and the siege of Leningrad from the perspective of children. The publication received very positive reactions but was also accompanied by “harsh aggression from those who were not ready” to see a frank children’s book on the Stalinist repression, as Samokat’s PR director Mariya Orlova put it (Mamlyga 2020). Despite such virulent public criticism, the book was published in at least three editions and nominated for several prizes, including the prestigious Iasnaia Poliana Literary Award (ibid.).

Film: Living through the War through the Eyes of Young Heroes

Russian screens are saturated with films and television series about World War II that have offered narratives about fascist Germany to generations of Soviet and now Russian citizens (Youngblood 2007). ¹⁵ Soviet series like Seventeen Moments of Spring (1972) are traditionally broadcast around Victory Day, although the television program for Victory Day 2020 included some elaborated contemporary Russian productions. For instance, a new season of the action serial The Saboteur was shown on Channel One and blockbusters like T-34 (2019) were broadcast on Rossiia-1. However, Soviet classics like Officers (1971), Only Old Men Go into Battle (1974), and Battalions Call for Fire (1985) account for the bulk of the films. Young people are thus very likely to still watch Soviet movies about World War II. ¹⁶

In recent years, several state-funded films that specifically target younger children have been released. In Small Soldier (2018) and Little Sister (2019), both subsidized by the Russian Ministry of Culture, children are the main protagonists, and viewers follow the action from their perspective. The protagonists, therefore, function as potential role models for a young audience. Serezha, the six-year-old hero in Small Soldier, is looked after by a Red Army soldier after his relatives are killed by German combatants. Serezha is directly involved in combat actions at the front line. Small Soldier is based on the well-known story of Sergei Aleshkov, a six-year-old orphan who became known as the Red Army’s youngest soldier. The film shows how even a boy armed with nothing but a wooden gun can contribute to defeating fascism. Being ready to defend the country is more important than the actual actions in the battle, similar to the emphasis in some of the literature. A plausible interpretation of the film’s message can be found in a summary published on a popular film website: “This little soldier can teach any adult a lesson in courage, patriotism, and perseverance” (Kino-Teatr.ru, April 06, 2021)

Meanwhile, six-year-old Iamil, the protagonist in Little Sister, experiences the war and its consequences in the Soviet hinterland. The film is based on the Bashkir writer Mustai Karim’s novel Joy of Our House, which has been reprinted in thousands of copies since its first publication in 1951. Little Sister tells the story of Iamil, a Bashkir boy, and Oksana, a Ukrainian girl, who is saved by Iamil’s father, a Red Army soldier, and sent to the region of Bashkiria in the Urals. Iamil is delighted by the appearance of a “little sister” and integrates her into the village community, in particular by teaching her the Bashkir language. Shot mostly in Bashkir and with nearly no Russian characters, the film highlights World War II as a war of all the Soviet peoples—including national minorities. In Russia, Little Sister was met with great enthusiasm. The work was awarded several prizes and received positive reviews from both professional critics and audience members. ¹⁷

Both Small Soldier and Little Sister convey official views of World War II. Shortly after its release, Little Sister was shown at a special screening for the Minister of Culture (Bashinform.rfb, October 6, 2019). The Moscow Region Ministry of Culture included both in a series of war films shown for free on the Defender of the Fatherland Day in February 2020 (Pravitel’stvo Moskovskoi Oblasti 2020). Furthermore, Small Soldier was part of the state-owned Rossiia-1 channel’s 2020 Victory Day program.

Surveys and Focus Groups to Access Cultural Memory

In April 2018, 2019, and 2020, the Centre for East European and International Studies (ZOiS) conducted cross-sectional online surveys among 2,000 young people aged 16–34. The surveys investigated young Russians’ sociopolitical outlook and aimed to understand historical memory in a broader reference population—urban youth (Mickiewicz 2006). It included questions about the historical events that respondents considered important and how they interpreted them. Respondents represented the underlying population in terms of age, gender, and place of residence through a quota sample. An online survey was chosen as it corresponded to the communicative practices of young people and offered anonymity in an increasingly autocratic context. ¹⁸

Our focus groups sought to gain a deeper knowledge of specific historical arguments advanced by young people, and to refine our understanding of the ways in which young Russians interpret their socio-political environment. The 12 groups took place in Yekaterinburg and St. Petersburg in June 2019. Each group included between 8 and 10 participants, who were divided by age (18–24 or 25–34), gender (49 male and 47 female participants), and self-ascribed political orientation (regime supporter, politically indifferent, or regime critical). There was no difference in average income or education between the groups. To avoid the distortion of a foreign researcher conducting interviews on such a sensitive topic, a Russian professional moderator in her mid-30s conducted the focus groups using a detailed, pre-prepared script. Each group lasted for around two hours and discussed historical interpretations of various aspects of World War II extensively.

Residents of the two cities have displayed different attitudes to political protest in recent years. Yekaterinburg, Russia’s fourth largest city, is still characterized by its reliance on Soviet heavy industry. The city is not generally considered to be a hotbed of opposition activism, despite occasional protests. ¹⁹ However, St. Petersburg’s history and culture of opposition protest is quite different from Yekaterinburg’s. Russia’s second largest city—home to some of the country’s leading universities and a flourishing cultural life—has a tradition of oppositional and liberal thinking. Political protests occur more frequently, and there are numerous political youth movements, some linked to the various universities.

The manner in which we have combined disciplinary perspectives is certainly not without its limits. Nevertheless, our combined analysis captures staggering overlaps between discursive contexts. These overlaps speak to the importance of bringing different disciplinary perspectives together when attempting to understand a phenomenon as complex as the process of remembering in post-Soviet Russia.

What History Do Young People Remember?

Our survey shows that World War II is central to, but does not exclusively dominate, young Russians’ historical consciousness. When asked to name the two most important events in Russian history, four events were mentioned most frequently (Figure 1): ²⁰

Figure 1. Most and second most important historical events mentioned by young Russians.

The breakdown of the USSR and the 1917 Revolution both trailed in World War II’s wake in terms of the importance accorded to them. Given how frequently Vladimir Putin expresses his regret at the collapse of the USSR and that young people grew up in the turbulent 1990s, it is not surprising that they hold negative views on this topic. Young people are clearly less nostalgic about Soviet times than older generations, and when asked directly about how they assess the Soviet Union’s breakdown, around one-third holds negative, and another third neutral views (Gudkov et al. 2020; Levada-Center 2018; Krawatzek 2021). Their views on the 1917 Revolution generally reflect those of the wider population and may have been altered by centenary celebrations in 2017. ²¹

World War II was the most frequently mentioned event in each of the three years. Most people used either the official term—“the Great Patriotic War”—or referred to the end of the war, “Victory Day.” The share of respondents who gave one of these answers increased from 22.5% to more than one-quarter in 2019 and nearly one-third in 2020. Widespread publicity around the celebrations planned for the 75th anniversary of Victory Day may explain the sharp upward trend between 2019 and 2020.

World War II: Identification and Contestation

This section assesses what World War II means for the young Russians that were included in our focus groups and surveys, embedding their views in the relevant cultural realm. We find points of convergence and highlight the ways in which World War II provides an identity-forming site for them, but can also illuminate areas where narratives act as points for interpretive contestation. Our analysis reveals the extent to which, despite all temporal distance to World War II, the young generation is not fundamentally questioning the historical basis for how Russians engage with history today. Rather, the inability of the current regime to secure popular political legitimacy has contributed to a situation where the view back is to divert attention from political shortcomings in the present. But the regime fails to transform this historical loyalty into political support for the present system as young Russians clearly distinguish between their support for the historical viewpoint embodied by the regime and its politics.

Commemorating the Grandfathers’ War

The 75th anniversary of the war’s end in 2020 was a critical year for the transmission of historical interpretations as it was the last significant anniversary in which ageing veterans could participate. In due course, a further increase in the medialization of memory can be expected. Interpretations of the war suggested by the media and political discourse were echoed by the young people surveyed in our research: it is notably consensual that the war contains lessons for today’s Russia that ought to be transmitted to the next generation to further ensure mnemonic continuity. Pro-regime youth argue that Russians should be considered “the heirs of the generation of victors,” and state the importance of knowing one’s ancestry. Yet those critical of the current regime also tend to agree that the war should be commemorated as an example of “courage”: a trope lifted directly from the Soviet-era books and films we have highlighted.

However, the restrictions due to the spread of COVID-19 required a significant last-minute rethink of commemorative activities in 2020. In place of outdoor activities, the government planned the at-home “Victory Windows” and “Victory Light” campaigns and encouraged participation in “The Immortal Regiment on Balconies.” In the aftermath of Victory Day, the Kremlin pollster WCIOM highlighted that an overwhelming majority of Russians approved of these new commemorative forms. Meanwhile, around one-quarter took part in the “Victory Windows” and the “Victory Light,” and one-fifth in the “Immortal Regiment on the Balconies.” Two thirds of respondents stated that such activities should be repeated (WCIOM.ru, May 12, 2020).

A shift toward online commemorative activities may have the potential to get young people involved in remembrance practices in the future. ²² However, the online commemorative forms reproduce long-established commemorative rules and reiterate the rigid framework that prescribes how World War II is to be remembered. As part of our survey in April 2020, we asked respondents about the commemorative activities they intended to participate in. Alongside participation in some of the key performative activities, more than one-third of young people stated that they were going to watch Soviet war movies (Figure 2).

Figure 2. Participation in Victory Day celebrations by young Russians in 2020.

Soviet narratives continue to contribute to young people’s picture of the war as The Dawns Here Are Quiet illustrates. The novella by Vasil’ev, first published in 1969 in the literary journal Iunost’, tells the story of how five female soldiers and their male commander defeat a troop of German saboteurs who outnumber them more than two to one. Thanks to their wit, solidarity, and willingness to sacrifice themselves—all the women die in the battle—the injured Soviet commander finally arrests the surviving German soldiers. Years after the war, the commander comes back to Karelia, where the fighting took place, and honors the female soldiers with a memorial plaque. The text and its film adaptation convey a narrative typical for Soviet (and post-Soviet) war stories: a soldier’s loyalty is forever. The 1972 film of the book became even more popular than the original text. A Russian remake of the film was released on April 30, 2015. The date, which fell shortly before the 70th anniversary of the end of World War II, guaranteed maximum attention. It was first broadcast on May 9, 2016, on Channel One, the country’s most watched television channel. ²³ Thus, a Soviet text and its screen adaptions continue to frame the way Russians are expected to—and do—think about World War II.

In principle, our surveys indicated that young people are willing to get involved in commemorative activities and young people in the focus groups specifically approved of the Immortal Regiment marches. However, the view that today’s celebrations are inappropriate was shared across political orientations: celebrations were described as “for show,” too dramatized, and detached from the population. Young Russians—and not only those critical of the regime—complained about the “fuss” the government makes of every May 9. One participant from Yekaterinburg argued that Victory Day had become a “nightmare,” as it had turned into an occasion for “hurray patriotism,” and was completely dissociated from the original event. ²⁴ Another argued that the victory celebrations had become an empty shell to prove that Russia could win a war again. The participant was likely referring to the huge number of suggested continuities between 1945 and the present, which are most clearly captured by the anniversary’s official slogan “Victory 75! 1945–2020.” Young people criticized the fact that those in power simply want to “prove something,” without associating a nuanced historical meaning with the events.

Criticism of the present-day celebrations was particularly virulent among the politically indifferent in St. Petersburg. Accusations that millions of rubles were spent just “to disperse the clouds [during large festivals]” and that “veterans are dying of hunger in monstrous conditions in the villages” were typical. The participant that voiced those concerns added that “it is just the same as going out and shooting [the veterans].” Another participant took that argument further and said that today’s commemorations are a “celebration of hypocrisy”:

We take a little old man out from the top shelf of the closet once a year. We say, ‘Well done,’ eat buckwheat and soup, and then on May 10, we hide him back in the closet. All this goes along with drinking alcohol and the phrase, ‘We could do it again.’ You can’t do it again, and it’s not necessary to do it again, because it was a dishonest, senseless war, and we drowned the Nazi knife with the blood of our people. And I think this is inadequate.

Regime critics agreed on the need to remember Victory Day, but in an important distinction, many underlined that it was not worth celebrating it. One participant, for example, criticized public displays of heroism and argued that this should be a private day of remembrance. Another participant in a nuanced comment agreed that it was necessary to emphasize society’s role: “It is not necessary to clothe this in some kind of heroization of the Soviet Union itself. The people should be clothed with heroism, because the victory was won by sacrifices from among the people, not by the state.”

Even some regime supporters held nuanced views of what kind of remembering is desirable. For example, one respondent explained that “our country does not need to live only in memory.” He illustrated this argument with his home city of Volgograd (formerly Stalingrad), where life only happens in memory, given that nothing else is available. For him, this overshadowed the fact that Russia is in dire economic straits and that the system in place lacks political support.

War Victory: A Purified Historical Baggage

When young people were prompted to discuss World War II in our focus groups, the victory on May 9 was their central reference point. Participants agreed on the importance of Victory Day, which “allowed them to continue to live,” provided “freedom,” and let them “feel life again.” Respondents asserted that today’s state is founded on victory in World War II. In both cities, and across political orientations, young people reiterated the trope of a victory over fascism, which continuously makes them feel “proud” both “about our grandparents” and their country—especially among those that support the regime. These positive views downplayed the ongoing limitations to freedom in post-war Soviet and Russian life. Only some older participants in the 25–34 age group noted the human losses and the wounds that the conflict leaves to this day. Most cultural products about the war too circumvent those restrictions and focus instead on the heroism.

Few of our participants outright opposed the consensual memory of victory. There were some exceptions. One 21-year-old from Yekaterinburg underlined that “the results of the war were terrible for our country” and that instead of the celebrations, the event “should be honored with silence.” One participant raised the theme of victims, other politically indifferent young people tended to agree that victims needed to be honored, but without deviating from the country’s heroic narratives. Among those critical of the regime, the war’s connotations tended to be more diverse. One participant explained that her first association with the war was “destruction.” She highlighted the great costs for the Soviet Union’s victory. Another agreed, referring to Victory Day as a “holiday with tears in your eyes.”

While young people are aware of the irreparable human losses, those losses do not motivate their historical perceptions. Thus, they differ significantly from the way the war is depicted in cultural artifacts. The civilian and military casualties motivate the storyline and give meaning to the hero’s feats. The Soviet victory is the logical denouement of World War II stories and is not usually described in detail in literature and film. Young people’s prevailing narrative is not about loss or destruction but about the end of the conflict and a mythical freedom of the post-war years, when Stalin was nevertheless still the country’s leader and the Gulags were heavily populated. Young people’s nostalgia for a unified and successful past is, of course, not unique to young Russians. Longing for the Soviet past as a contrast to a colorless present that offers only limited personal and economic opportunities is common across the post-socialist space. ²⁵ Contrasting an idealized past of cooperation with present disunity among some post-Soviet successor states, Russian youth approved of the Soviet Union’s multi-ethnic composition and underlined that the “unity of the multi-ethnic people” enabled victory over Nazi Germany. Only when united, the responses suggest, could the Soviet people demonstrate their power and engage in a collective sacrifice for the common good.

Politicians use this mythical trope of Soviet unity in relation to the memory of World War II. For example, Valerii Gazzaev, the head of the State Duma Committee on Nationalities, linked the idea of unity and the “great victory”: “Facing a terrible threat, the numerous Soviet nationalities were united, irrespective of national and religious affiliation. They thought and spoke with only one voice—‘We will win, we will eliminate the enemy’—and then went on to attack with the words ‘for the motherland.’” He further stressed the importance of intergenerational transmission of memory: “It is important that young people feel the inextricable link between generations, that they know about and are proud of the contribution of a multinational people to the greatest victory over fascism in the world history of mankind” (Ria Novosti, February 17, 2020).

This sense of sacrifice becomes a moral obligation, since yesterday’s sacrifice seems foundational for today’s freedom. Young people echo this interpretation when they agree that they benefit to this day from their ancestors’ heroic and selfless actions. Those in the focus group of regime supporters, for example, saw the war as an example of courage that people in today’s Russia should observe and follow. This view reiterates the heroic sense of citizenship and patriotism that the Kremlin seeks to cultivate.

Remembering Stalin’s Violence

The prevailing myth of a post-war utopia helped elide concerns about the crimes of the Stalinist era and their relation to World War II. Few respondents in our surveys mentioned Stalin or the violence of Stalinism when referring to World War II as an important historical event. In 2019 and 2020, survey participants were asked to assess Stalin’s role by choosing from six possible answers (Figure 3). The most popular statement was a broadly positive one and only around one-quarter agreed with outright critical statements, and ten percent opted for a positive assessment. ²⁶ The fact that some diversity persists may reflect the fact that narratives emerging from the political elites and from cultural artifacts do not agree on one interpretation of Stalinism, although there is a broadly shared view on Stalin himself being detached from the political events of his time and admired for his contribution to the country’s development. But for the majority of respondents, a spontaneously negative assessment of Stalin seems in such a tension with the heroic view on the Red Army that they find compelling.

Figure 3. Assessments about Stalin among young Russians in 2019 and 2020.

The focus groups revealed more about these diverging assessments. Prompted purely through the display of a portrait of Stalin, young people agreed that he played a crucial role in the war and that the victory would not have been possible without him. Brutal industrialization is seen as the key to enabling victory over Nazi Germany, while Stalinist terror becomes depersonalized and devoid of perpetrators (see also Nelson 2015). However, assessments varied according to participants’ political outlook. Regime supporters in both cities emphasized Stalin’s overall positive role for the country and regretted that today’s society tends to forget his contribution: during and after the war, “he picked up the country and restored cities that were destroyed.” Some in the pro-regime group even suggested Stalin as a potential role model. Older participants in St. Petersburg believed that Stalin was a strong leader with great foresight who had to make “tough decisions” and should be admired.

Young Russians in the indifferent and regime-critical groups agreed on Stalin’s importance for the Soviet victory, as we showed above, but there was more diversity in their views. As one would expect, regime-critical youth expressed the most negative attitudes toward Stalin as a historical figure. These participants brought up the Gulag and argued that Stalin “was a tyrant. There was a genocide of the people, which also involved my family. My great-great-grandfather fought [in World War II], but he once said that German tanks are better than ours. How dare he? He was sentenced to 10 years.” ²⁷

The focus groups revealed conflicting assessments, which are similarly expressed in literature. Traditionally, literature in Russia has functioned as a corrective to state positions by criticizing rulers and providing alternatives to dominant narratives. Literature on World War II has long addressed topics that go against official discourse—such as the aforementioned In the Trenches of Stalingrad by Nekrasov. However, hardly any of the texts that made Stalinist repression in World War II an explicit issue—for example, Grossman’s Life and Fate, which depicts Stalinist repression during the war and compares Stalin to Hitler—could be published officially in Soviet times.

Works such as Grossman’s novel were not published in Russia until the perestroika era, but today, cultural artifacts dealing with Stalinist repression are widely available. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich is even required reading in schools. ²⁸ Some more recent publications for young readers depict repression in the 1940s. For example, Ol’ga Kolpakova’s Wormwood Tree tells the story of five-year-old Soviet-German Marikhe whose family is deported with many others to Siberia because officials are afraid they might collaborate with Nazi Germany. Referring to her father, Marikhe explains the political situation as follows:

Lots and lots of different peoples live in [the Soviet Union]. But mostly Russians. There are lots of Germans too. But the main person in the country is Stalin, who’s a Georgian. We are Germans. It was the Germans who attacked us. And all because every nation has good and bad people, evil and good people, and greedy and generous people. Then everybody started to call the bad Germans ‘fascists’. That’s how daddy explained it (Kolpakova 2017, 13).

Wormwood Tree is based on a true story; but unlike the flood of memoirs that deal with the repression, it is told by a first-person child narrator and for children. As an innocent and highly vulnerable character, Marikhe demonstrates the excesses of ongoing Stalinist repression that targeted the Soviet population. ²⁹ However, the book, like the vast amount of texts written in memoir style by ordinary people, failed to generate much public attention, above all probably on account of its rather conventional form. Nevertheless, the publication of such a text is remarkable in its own right under today’s political circumstances.

Disregarding the Dark Side of the War? The Red Army’s Crimes against Civilians

The rigid war narratives struggle to integrate critical elements without running the risk of crumbling. And also in Russian literature, discussing crimes committed against civilian populations remains difficult. A few texts do mention such crimes, like Solzhenitsyn’s 1,500-line poem Prussian Nights, composed in the 1950s, which recalls the pillages, rapes, and murders the Red Army committed in Prussia. At first, the narrator seems to be more of a chronicler than a participant, but in the last verse, he confesses that he too raped a woman. In 1974, when an authorized Russian version was published in Paris, Solzhenitsyn was already in exile. However, this seems to be the only version that has ever been printed in Russian, and it does not target a youth audience. ³⁰

When young Russians broached the issue of criticizing the Red Army, some underlined the need to discuss the issue, while others intuitively took a protective stance and relativized such violence. A young woman from the group of politically indifferent young people sarcastically stated: “These are realities of the war that our romanticized generation does not know and does not want to know about.” ³¹ Some of the regime-critical youth believed that negative issues “should definitely be discussed, because it’ll be hypocritical if we scold everyone else but do not talk about our own crimes.” However, reflecting the rigidity of the prevailing narrative, young people frequently excused violence because it was perpetrated in purportedly different times: “We cannot criticize their [Red Army soldiers’] actions, because we did not grow up at that time and did not learn what they were taught; we were not in that particular situation.”

Other critics of the regime, meanwhile, asserted that the Red Army was blameless. This suggests that the Red Army’s spotless heroism has emerged as a largely consensual historical view held by a significant part of the population. Such views provide a shared sense of belonging. ³² This pattern was also observable in the group of indifferent young people in both St. Petersburg and Yekaterinburg, and also among regime supporters in St. Petersburg. The latter group acknowledged that Red Army soldiers committed crimes but that these were omnipresent: rape “was committed by the opposing and by our side. Yet nobody talks about it”; “this does not only apply to the Red Army—but to almost any army, any people. What about the Japanese, the Germans?” Even regime-critical young people defended the Red Army. A young woman from Petersburg exclaimed that, “if you recall what the Germans did in our country, that was much worse!”

Outright denial of violence against the civilian population was, however, only encountered among regime-supporting and politically indifferent young people. Crimes were written off as “isolated cases” or even altogether denied: “We could not do this. We have the wrong mentality.” Since rape was forbidden, one participant was convinced that it could not have happened, and another maintained that violence would have “been stopped by our commanders.” However, even outside of those who held these views, young people who admitted that Red Army soldiers committed violence against civilians usually underlined that this fact does not question their heroic contribution. This pattern was common among young people of all political orientations. A remark by one critic of the regime was telling:

I know that we cannot deny this. It is wartime, war, there are only men around, women appear here, but men can be somehow understood, in principle, these are also enemies. You are hanging by a thread, on the verge between life and death, and then there are suddenly women. I think that anyone, even the most zealous saint, could not restrain himself, so it is difficult to condemn. It was a war, not the best conditions. But they won, so they have the right to do what they please.

Conclusion

Historical narratives are a central component of Russian identity, and history has become a key political resource that the Kremlin tries to employ for its own stability given the lack of other sources of regime legitimacy. During Putin’s third term as president, the use of such narratives has intensified, and young people are a central target of political initiatives centered on World War II. Although generational change has contributed to shifting memory regimes in many countries, our analysis of what young Russians make of World War II demonstrates that today’s youth hold many officially promulgated views—yet also that elements of political and educational discourse are at the same time highly contested. Dissenting voices are in general more clearly pronounced in the cultural works such as literature.

Nonetheless, the increasingly restrictive conditions around critical historical discourse in Russia have clearly contributed to a largely whitewashed account of history in official interpretations such as textbooks and state-subsidized films. Irrespective of their political orientation, young people agree on the importance of commemorating their ancestors’ fight against the fascists. The focus in their historical remembrance is on the heroic victory and the Red Army’s liberation of Europe. Some of those who are critical of the regime diverged from the official narratives, which becomes particularly obvious when discussing violence perpetrated by Stalin or atrocities committed by Red Army soldiers against the civilian population. Those critical of today’s regime, and some of the politically indifferent, agreed without hesitation on the importance of exploring these delicate topics and acknowledging Russia’s ambivalent historical heritage.

Today’s young generation in Russia provides an intriguing case study of mnemonic continuity in the context of generational change. The historical interpretations that young Russians articulate are not fundamentally challenging those suggested in official discourse and voiced by older generations. Counter-interpretations persist in the cultural realm, but the memory of World War II provides an important and far-reaching foundation for young Russians’ self-understanding. However, this historical foundation is not synonymous with support for the current regime and its continued monopolization of history. Young people from across the political spectrum emphasized their aversion to the way history is manipulated. The push for digital commemoration in 2020 as a response to the COVID-19 pandemic might constitute an occasion to revisit rigid rules of remembering. However, given the noticeable lack of change in recent years in Russia, our surveys and discussions with young Russians showed that they feel in some respects neglected by today’s historical agenda. ³³

Over the past 15 years, an increasingly antagonistic and Russophile historical discourse with World War II at its core has taken shape. This widely visible discourse can be discerned from examining films, the debates about history textbooks, and the importance granted to patriotic education. These frames are to varying degrees homogenized: films are often state-subsidized and those that meet with official approval are screened during large public gatherings; history textbooks have to follow a set of rules in order to be accredited; and patriotic education is militarizing young Russians at ever-earlier ages. Literature, in turn, has played a significant role in determining the associations with the war since World War II. Small publishing houses continue to publish texts that show a differentiated picture of the war, including Stalinist repression. All of these books are easily accessible both printed and as eBooks. However, these frames—film, teaching, patriotic education, and literature—are all in some respects both internally and mutually contradictory. Moreover, the regime does not have perfect control of the actual teaching of history in the classroom, the use young people make of the time they spend together, and the content that young people view on sites such as YouTube. ³⁴

Russia is an instructive case when it comes to the ways in which politicians address young people to shape their belonging to an abstract idea of Russia. In that regard, the increasingly authoritarian country is illustrative of several other autocratic regimes such as Belarus or Turkey but also Hungary and Poland, where emotionalized history is to substitute for present-day political legitimacy (Lewis 2019; Lüküslü 2005; Pribersky 2008; Żychlińska and Fontana 2016). The analysis presented in this article then demonstrates the challenges to actually control the micro-narratives about history and the persistence of a diversity of historical viewpoints in particular when we look at the cultural sphere.