War and Exile: 2022–2025’s Parallel Cultures

Episode Narrative

In the early years of the 21st century, the world was poised on the precipice of significant historical shifts. Among the most striking was the conflict between Russia and Ukraine — a conflict deeply rooted in territory but manifesting in profound cultural repercussions. As Russian tanks rolled into Ukraine in February 2022, a storm of repression engulfed Russian society. The invasion triggered an unprecedented crackdown on free speech; laws were enacted with brutal swiftness, silencing dissent and targeting those who dared to speak out.

Prominent figures of the literary scene became immediate targets. Dmitry Glukhovsky, known for his powerful narratives, found himself indicted under these oppressive laws. Writers like Boris Akunin and Vladimir Sorokin were faced with a stark choice: publish their voices abroad or remain under the watchful eye of a regime that sought to control their very pen. Lyudmila Ulitskaya, a celebrated author and a voice of opposition, made the heartbreaking decision to emigrate, leaving behind a landscape littered with the remnants of what Russian literature once stood for.

Cultural institutions that had defined Moscow’s artistic identity began to fall silent. The Garage Museum of Contemporary Art suspended its programs, a grim echo of a culture retreating into the shadows. The V-A-C Foundation, a beacon of contemporary art, followed suit, leaving a void that seemed to deepen with every passing day. Yet, in this bleakness, a new narrative began to emerge. Independent publishing houses sprouted in cities like Riga, Tbilisi, and Berlin — temporary sanctuaries for Russian-language literature. From these hubs, authors who had fled the storm could publish their works, weaving their voices into a vibrant tapestry of exile.

This upheaval was not confined to one nation. Ukrainian policies reshaped literary landscapes as well. In an ardent push for cultural sovereignty, restrictions were placed on the import of Russian books. Literature became not just a medium of expression, but also a battlefield for national identity, an act of resistance against the encroaching tide of external influence. The territory of words was marked by borders, where one could no longer simply browse titles without confronting the politics that shaped them.

Fast forward to 2025, and the echoes of war and exile resonated profoundly within the hallowed halls of Staraya Russa. Here, the XXVII International Readings dedicated to Fyodor Dostoevsky unfolded, a gathering of minds united by a common reverence for literary giants of the past. Scholars, literature teachers, and students came together to discuss Dostoevsky’s poetics and philosophical insights, an ironic reflection of ongoing scholarly engagement amidst layers of political tension. Guided tours of museums related to Dostoevsky's life connected contemporary discourse with timeless themes woven into his work. In discussions filled with earnestness, audiences explored the relevance of his insights on morality, suffering, and existence itself — timeless questions fighting against the backdrop of a nation at war.

In tandem, the XXX International Academic Conference "Pushkin Readings" held at A. S. Pushkin Leningrad State University attracted a network of 139 scholars. They gathered to discuss the evolution of literary genres from the 18th to the 21st century, highlighting how art can mirror the multifaceted nature of national identity. Debates unfurled over the function of artistic images and the intricate analysis of language in literature and media, reaffirming Pushkin's central role in shaping Russian language and cultural identity. Herein lay a struggle against oblivion — a statement of resilience amidst adversity.

Nearly three decades had passed since the dissolution of the Soviet Union. The echoes of past policies still lingered over Russian literature education, where world classics like Cervantes' "Don Quixote" were integrated into curricula, designed to cultivate moral and aesthetic sensibilities. Yet, even as masterpieces graced the classrooms, challenges arose. Limited curriculum hours and the intricate complexity of such works often left students adrift, grappling for deeper understanding. This prompted ongoing methodological research aimed at improving literary pedagogy, seeking to better prepare students for the vast seas of literary discourse.

The post-Soviet era had presented a rich tapestry of artistic expression, one shaped by competing narratives of national identity. The nuanced debates around "Russkii" — the ethnic Russian — versus "Rossiiskii" — the citizen of Russia — bore witness to an ongoing negotiation in many facets: culture, politics, and society at large. These discussions delicately intertwined with the literary themes emerging from this complex landscape, driving cultural policies forward as Russia sought a coherent identity amid its multiethnic fabric.

Institutions like the Russian Museum engaged actively within this dialogue. They curated exhibitions combining modern and contemporary art with classical works, an act that painted a picture of tradition merging with innovation. These efforts sought to reinterpret Russian art history, inviting audiences to confront evolving cultural meanings through the lens of duality. In this dialogue, the past and the present were not adversaries; rather, they became co-creators of a cultural narrative forged in the furnace of history.

The legacy of the Russian Silver Age also experienced a rejuvenation. Writers like Sergei Esenin and Marina Tsvetaeva, long overshadowed by decades of Soviet suppression, found new audiences and fresh interpretations in a world hungry for artistic integrity. Their works resurfaced not just as historical artifacts but as vital sources of inspiration, resonating with those who lived through times of turmoil and change.

As the walls of repression thickened, art became a language of protest. The waves of dissent in Russia from 2008 to 2012 utilized historical themes, mobilizing a generation against the backdrop of revolution. Art stood as a unifying force, a medium of expression that scattered the seeds of opposition. Eyewitnesses would recall how murals, posters, and performances transformed public spaces into canvases of resistance, echoing the sentiments of myriad voices lost to the silence of oppression.

Amidst this cultural upheaval, efforts to preserve minority voices flourished. The translation and reception of Ossetian poetry, driven by Russian poet Sergei Shervinsky, showcased the intricate dance of cultural heritage within the larger literary sphere. These poets strived to balance faithfulness to original meanings while adapting them to resonate within a Russian context, bridging divisions with shared poetic touchstones.

Yet the shifts in education underlined a grander struggle. The literary curricula transformed, veering away from Soviet ideological frameworks to embrace a more culturally nationalist orientation. This metamorphosis encompassed both a reckoning with history and an understanding of the contemporary world — a cultural turn that sought to emphasize broader contexts and interdisciplinary approaches, mirroring the very society it aimed to educate.

The tapestry of literature in post-Soviet Russia began to reflect a gradual autonomization, as varied regional literary fields emerged. In places like the Urals, travelogues and local texts contributed to a cultural identity steeped in regional pride. This growing autonomy illustrated the symbolic appropriation of cultural narratives and the ongoing evolution of literature as it intersected with local histories.

In conservatories and academic halls, Russian historiography underwent its own reconstruction — an exploration of national identity, historical progress, and cultural memory. The debates sparked in these environments often spilled into wider society, as contemporary Russians grappled with the ramifications of their past. The art of inquiry replaced silence, fostering a society reconsidering its shared narrative.

At the same time, the Russian media landscape pulsated with strategic evolutions. Outlets began to craft Russia’s national image abroad, particularly in places like China, where platforms like RT’s Weibo account shaped perceptions and fostered cultural narratives. Here, culture and politics intermingled, enhancing Russia's international influence through digital engagement.

Yet, the legacy of past cultural policies continued to inform the contemporary discourse as well. The Soviet-era dekady of national art festivals in the 1930s laid the groundwork for understanding multiethnic cultures, an exploration that highlighted historical roots of cultural diplomacy. This journey into the past illuminated pathways for navigating the complexities of ethnic representation in modern society.

As the tales of resistance unfolded, caricatures and cartoons from late 19th to early 20th centuries offered rich commentary on societal attitudes toward literature. Their study not only shaped public perceptions but also provided a visual lens through which the history of literature could be examined.

Through the lens of literature, the character of the doctor evolved too, often interpreted as a symbol of the intelligentsia. This portrayal reflected broader cultural and ethical concerns within Russian society, capturing fears, aspirations, and the intrinsic quest for understanding amid chaos.

As transnational approaches gained traction, scholars found themselves reevaluating Russian literature and culture within global contexts, challenging traditional paradigms. This shift allowed for a rich exchange of ideas, resonating beyond national borders — a reminder that journeying through literature often offers pathways to shared understanding.

But it was in the re-examination of Ukrainian art history that reflections upon past colonial influences sharpened. The process of decolonization critically redefined narratives and thematic scopes, impacting cultural identity formation in post-1991 Ukraine. This unfolding dialogue between past and present captivated audiences still grappling with historical shadows.

Among the currents of literary globalization, the reception of post-Soviet Russian fiction in translation provided a fresh lens through which foreign readers approached these stories. Paratexts — introductions and prefaces — began to shape the understanding of Russian contemporary literature, revealing the complexities of cultural exchange.

As we stand in this moment, the reverberations of war and exile continue to echo, reminding us that literature is not static; it is a vessel of human experience, shaped by the tides of history. In this ever-changing landscape, one question lingers: How will the words of today shape the conversations of tomorrow? The story continues, a narrative still in the making.