In war and peace, Russian culture thrives

Late in the evenings a crowd always gathered in the subterranean passages below Moscow to hear the boy play his violin. He could not have been older than eight but played with the authority of a seasoned musician and the passion of a virtuoso. Without glancing at a piece of music he jumped from Sibelius to Tchaikovsky to Prokofiev. Weariness crept into his face as the hours wore on, but the intensity of the music never ebbed. Frequent nods of approval rippled through the crowd as the music cried out in unrestrained passion. It told the story of Russia — of toil, hardship and perseverance.

You need not be a Russian scholar to recognize Russian cultural might: Shostakovitch, Stravinsky, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy — these are merely a few of the giants. A stroll through the Tretyakov Art Gallery will reveal works by artists that you probably did not even know existed. A few subway stops away, the treasures at the Kremlin's Armory make England's Crown Jewels look like a Barbie collection.

On the real-world streets of Moscow the image becomes quite different. Busy roads cut through the city, decrepit buildings line the streets and horrific 'Stalin-Baroque' apartments loom in the distance. These physical aspects provide constant reminders of the tumultuous political past and the harsh economic present.

Years of hardship and successive political regimes have taken their toll on the Russian people, and Muscovites are far from the friendliest lot. Smiles from storekeepers are rare, helpfulness is non-existent, and "you're welcome" barely belongs in the vocabulary. But who can blame them?

The impressive part is that they have survived. Russian tenacity cannot be overestimated. Not only have they lived through countless invasions and political overturnings, but they continue to feel dedication and devotion to their country. One scholar I knew could have accepted one of numerous teaching positions in the United States, but he chose to stay in Russia because, in his words, the country needed him. Out of a sense of duty, he accepted a cramped Moscow apartment and constant frustrations with Russians and their government.

The current Bush administration has already had several dealings with this government, many of which have been unpleasant. We no longer treat Russia as the giant it once was. While it is perhaps no longer a military power or a direct and constant threat to America, do not think for a moment that Russia will slowly disappear from the world picture. It will persevere. It survived Napoleon, Stalin, World War II and Communism. It will survive Bush.

Russian cultural might provides the fuel for its tenacity. Perhaps it struggles economically and politically, but it has Tolstoy. This interpretation may sound trite and romantic, but the power of common cultural knowledge should not be underestimated. When I played in the New York Youth Symphony, Russians would overrun the hall every time we performed the work of a Russian composer. That music belongs to them. It is their source of pride, of energy, of passion. No matter what happens on the international scene, Rachmaninoff continues to testify to the Russian mind and soul. You can destroy their nuclear missiles but you cannot kill Dostoevsky.

It is difficult for a country as young as the United States to have a deep-rooted and powerful sense of cultural unity and identity, and it is equally hard for us to understand the consequences of such cultural pride. Could we have survived the turmoil the Russians have experienced and are currently enduring?

The boy will always play in the subway. Fueled with a cultural passion, he endures. Our choice rests in how we will treat him. Perhaps we do not much care for him or the music he's playing or what he represents, but we cannot fail to respect him. Nathan Arrington is an art and archaeology major from Westport, Conn. He can be reached at arington@princeton.edu.