Welcome back to the Deep Dive. We are so glad
you are here with us today. Yeah, thanks for
joining us. Whether you are prepping for a meeting,
commuting, or just looking to understand some
of the complex... And sometimes contradictory.
Right, the contradictory layers of history, you
are in the exact right place. Absolutely. Today,
we are examining a, well, a very specific artifact
of musical diplomacy. It is a 1949 Soviet mass
song called Moscow Peking. Also known as Moscow,
Beijing. Right. Or, by its much more literal
alternate title, the Russian and the Chinese
are brothers forever. Which just rolls right
off the tongue. It really does. And our mission
today is to unpack this specific piece of musical
history to understand how state -mandated art
actually functions in practice. We are going
to explore the hidden human desperation behind
its upbeat melody. And we will train how shifting
geopolitical realities can take a deadly serious
piece of propaganda. And completely transform
it. Exactly. Transform it into a widespread ironic
joke. But before we delve into the mechanics
of the song and its history, I do need to make
a very clear, objective statement to you, our
listener, because the material we are examining
today involves highly politically charged historical
figures and concepts, specifically Joseph Stalin,
Mao Zedong, the Soviet Union and the newly formed
communist Chinese state. It is vital to establish
our parameter. Right. We are absolutely not taking
any sides here. We are in no way endorsing. any
of the viewpoints, ideologies, or actions of
these regimes. Not at all. Our role today is
strictly to act as your impartial guides, reporting
on the history and the ideas exactly as they
occurred and are documented in the historical
record. Okay, let's untack this. We are looking
at a piece of music meticulously designed to
celebrate an eternal alliance. Eternal in quotes,
of course. Yes, because it was a partnership
that, as history shows us, barely survived a
single decade. Barely. But beneath that surface
-level political failure lies an origin story
that is incredibly stark. understand the weight
of this song, we have to start with the official
narrative. The blueprint. The blueprint of a
manufactured diplomatic bond. Yeah. The music
was composed by Vano Muradeli and the lyrics
were written by Mikhail Vershinin. And it is
important to note that this wasn't just a pop
song. Right. It was categorized as a mass song.
And that categorization is the essential framework
for everything that follows. Well, a mass song
was not a popular tune that organically climbed
the charts because the public just happened to
enjoy the melody. It was a highly calculated
instrument of state messaging. So purely utilitarian.
Exactly. The purpose of Moscow Peking was incredibly
specific. It was engineered to commemorate the
foundation of the People's Republic of China
in 1949 and simultaneously to celebrate Joseph
Stalin's 70th birthday. birthday. Two birds,
one stone. Precisely. And beyond those two distinct
milestones, its overarching objective was to
project a fraternal, unbreakable relationship
between the Soviet Union and this newly communist
Chinese state. This was top -down mandated musical
diplomacy. It really was. When we think about
how that mandate physically manifested, there
is this vivid visual from 1950 that captures
the era perfectly. It is a Chinese postage stamp
depicting Joseph Stalin and Mao Zedong shaking
hands. Postage stamp. Yeah, a mundane, everyday
object. Yet every single time a citizen mailed
a letter, they were confronted with this perfectly
framed, state -sanctioned friendship. Right.
It illustrates how the relationship wasn't just
an abstract political concept being discussed
in meeting rooms. It was a cultural requirement
embedded right into the minutia of daily life.
What's fascinating here is how states utilize
culture, and specifically participatory music,
to cement these political alliances in the minds
of the public. Right, because signing treaties
behind closed doors only goes so far. Exactly.
If a regime wants the general population to internalize
an alliance, they have to weave it into their
daily existence. You print it on stamps, you
broadcast it incessantly on the radio. And you
commission mass songs. Yes. By definition, a
mass song is musically structured to be sung
by large, untrained groups of people. The melodies
are typically sweeping and very accessible, often
set to a marching tempo. So it's easy to pick
up. Right. When you have hundreds of people physically
singing the Russian and the Chinese or Brothers
Forever, the physical act of participating creates
a shared visceral experience. It makes a manufactured
political directive feel like a grassroots reality.
Here's where it gets really interesting. If you
just look at the surface of this state -sanctioned
optimism, you might assume the lyricist Mikhail
Vershinin. was a comfortable, deeply loyal patriot.
Right. You might picture him sitting in a warm
Moscow apartment, overcome with ideological pride
as he pens an ode to eternal brotherhood. The
ideal Soviet artist. Exactly. But an interview
with Vershinin, which was published years later
in his vestia, shatters that illusion entirely.
It is a mind -blowing detail. At the time he
wrote the poem that would become Moscow Peaking,
Vershinin was not a celebrated state artist.
He was actually serving a sentence in a forced
labor camp. And that revelation forces a complete
reevaluation of the text. It really does. Vershinin
did not write these lyrics from a place of joyous
conviction. He authored this poem, which eventually
found its way into a state -run magazine, specifically
in a desperate bid to secure a reduction of his
sentence. The psychological weight of that transaction
is profound. We are talking about a man enduring
the freezing, brutal and coercive reality of
the gulag system. only viable strategy for survival,
or at least for a slightly less agonizing existence,
was to write the most triumphant, politically
compliant, and sycophantic message imaginable.
There is just a surreal disconnect there. Absolutely.
You have a citizen sitting in a labor camp writing,
we are brothers forever, everything is glorious,
while dedicating it to the 70th birthday of the
very man presiding over the system that imprisoned
him. It is a masterclass in cognitive dissonance.
Driven entirely by the instinct to survive. And
what is equally remarkable is the sheer element
of chance that transformed this specific survival
tactic into a national anthem. Oh, the Muradeli
connection. Yes. The composer, Vano Muradeli,
simply happened to read Vershinin's poem in that
state -run magazine. He needed lyrics that fit
the current political directives, and Vershinin's
desperate words fit the required meter perfectly.
It highlights a striking collision of systemic
pressures, doesn't it? It really does. You have
a composer, Moradelli, who is likely navigating
his own precarious position within the Soviet
cultural hierarchy. Right. He has quotas to meet.
Exactly. He needs material to commemorate Stalin's
70th birthday and the emergence of the Chinese
state to advance his career, or perhaps just
to maintain his good standing and avoid his own
downfall. So he stumbles upon Vershinin's poem.
And he's entirely unaware, or perhaps willfully
ignorant, that the words were forged in the desperation
of a labor camp. The contrast between the sparkling,
official debut of this mass song and the bleak
reality of its creation perfectly encapsulates
the duality of life under these regimes. The
state extracts its gleaming anthem while the
human cost is buried beneath the brass and the
coral swells. Beautifully put. And the state
eagerly embraced this narrative. Oh, Moscow peaking
didn't just fulfill a quota. It became a massive
institutional success. Huge. Before the geopolitical
winds inevitably shifted, this was the definitive
soundtrack for any state event involving China.
It was unavoidable. It was everywhere. And the
reach of the song extended far beyond the borders
of the Soviet Union. The Alexandrov Ensemble.
The legendary official choir of the Soviet Armed
Forces? Yes. They actually embarked on a tour
of Beijing. And during that tour, they performed
this song personally for Mao Zedong. The reaction
to that performance is particularly revealing
regarding the nature of autocratic leadership.
Mao was impressed. He was reportedly so impressed
by the performance and the ideological purity
of the song that he specifically requested a
personal meeting with the composer. That interaction
is the ultimate example of dictator fandom. Yes,
dictator fandom. Mao Zedong hears this sweeping,
flattering anthem, loves how it projects his
own power alongside Stalin's, and wants to shake
the hand of the genius who arranged the notes.
All while the man who actually conceived the
words Mikhail Vershinin. Right. He is entirely
removed from this glamorous diplomatic exchange,
having written them while incarcerated. The leaders
are completely insulated from the grim reality
of how their favorite propaganda was actually
produced. They only see the finished, polished
product. And Stalin's reaction mirrored Mao's
enthusiasm. He was known to be highly partial
to the song. And that fandom translated into
tangible state endorsement. tangible how well
in 1951 vano murdeli was awarded the stalin prize
second class specifically for his work on this
composition wow at that moment the song had achieved
the absolute pinnacle of state validation both
leaders immortalized in the lyrics had stamped
it with their approval but that official validation
introduces a complex problem for state art Yes,
it does. Because state art is intrinsically tied
to the political present, it is only as permanent
as the regime's current agenda. Which is never
permanent. Exactly. So, Vado Muradeli wins the
Stalin Prize in 1951, but Stalin dies just two
years later, in 1953. Eventually, Nikita Khrushchev
consolidates power. So what happens to a state
-mandated song when the state abruptly changes
its mind about the central figure it's celebrating?
A very tricky situation. Because the original
lyrics, written by Vershinin, directly reference
Joseph Stalin by name. Obviously, if you are
writing a poem to get out of a gulag, you name
drop the architect of the system. Of course you
do. But once Khrushchev initiates the period
of de -Stalinization, that explicit reference
becomes a massive political liability. If we
connect this to the bigger picture, this is where
the mechanics of revisionism become incredibly
visible. Yeah. De -Stalinization meant dismantling
the cult of personality that had defined the
previous decades. The state demanded that art
reflect its current, unquestionable reality.
Stalin transitioned from the celebrated father
figure, whose 70th birthday merited a national
chorus, to a figure the new regime actively sought
to distance itself from. However, the melody
of Moscow Peking was already popular, and the
diplomatic alliance with China it was still theoretically
active. So they couldn't just throw the whole
song out. Exactly. So instead of banning the
song entirely, they opted for surgical censorship.
The lyric referencing Stalin was simply removed
and replaced. That raises a fascinating logistical
question. How do you practically rewrite a song
that millions of people already know by heart?
It is a massive undertaking. It's one thing to
edit a document in an archive, but a mass song...
is literally in the mouths of the public. It
requires a chilling level of bureaucratic efficiency
and collective coercion. You have to halt the
printing of the old sheet music and distribute
the revised versions to every single state choir,
school, and military band. Every single one.
You have to recall or destroy old vinyl recordings
and broadcast only the new version on state radio.
But most importantly, it relies on the enforced
silence of the populace. They had to play along.
Millions of citizens knew the original words.
They knew Stalin's name used to be there. But
when the conductor raises his baton or when the
radio plays the new version, the public sings
the new lyrics. They participate in the revisionism
out of self -preservation. Yes. It demonstrates
that in a totalitarian system, history is not
a fixed record. It is a curated living document
that must be continuously updated. They curated
Stalin right out of his own birthday present.
They really did. But even with that surgical
edit, the song could not outrun geopolitics forever.
We have to look at the massive shift that occurred
in the 1960s. Sino -Soviet split. Yes. The internal
brotherhood between the Soviet Union and China
completely fractured. And the Sino -Soviet split
was not just some minor diplomatic disagreement.
It was a profound ideological and strategic rupture.
Right. Following Stalin's death, Khrushchev began
advocating for a policy of peaceful coexistence
with the capitalist West. Which Mao did not like.
Not at all. Mao Zedong viewed this as a fundamental
betrayal of orthodox Marxism -Leninism, maintaining
a much more militant, uncompromising stance.
And that snowballed. It did. This ideological
divergence escalated into a severe breakdown
of relations, eventually leading to outright
border skirmishes. The two nations went from
mandated brothers to hostile rivals. So what
does this all mean? For the song. Yes, for our
highly successful Stalin prize -winning mass
song, you have a piece of music literally titled
Moscow Peking, featuring a soaring chorus about
an unbreakable bond at a time when Moscow and
Peking are pointing weapons at each other. It
resulted in immediate and undeniable irrelevance.
The song was explicitly engineered to celebrate
a political reality that had ceased to exist.
So the state just dropped it? They had to. The
Soviet state could no longer have mass choirs
singing about a fraternal bond with a nation
they were actively denouncing. Consequently,
the mandated broadcasts abruptly stopped. Just
pulled from the airways. Yes. The sheet music
was quietly retired from state events. The overarching
official narrator had pivoted entirely. and Moscow
Pekin became a political embarrassment, swept
under the rug by the very institutions that had
commissioned it. But you can't just erase a catchy
chorus from the collective memory of an entire
generation. No, you can't. You can stop playing
it on the radio, but the words are still there,
and this leads to what is arguably the most poetic
justice in this entire narrative. I love this
part. By the late 1960s, the song's central lyrical
hook, The Russians and the Chinese are brothers
forever. had not disappeared. Instead, the public
resurrected it. Yes, and completely subverted
its meaning. It evolved into a widespread, cynical,
and deeply ironic joke. This raises an important
question regarding how everyday citizens process
and ultimately dismantle failed state propaganda.
Right. For years, the public was coerced into
singing this lyric, forced to look at those postage
stamps, and required to swallow the narrative
of Brothers Forever without question. And when
it fell apart. When that alliance spectacularly
and publicly collapsed, the citizens didn't just
forget the song, they weaponized it. Repeating
the phrase, the Russians and the Chinese are
brothers forever, became a subtle method of highlighting
the absurdity and the sheer fallibility of the
state's absolute proclamations. They curded against
them. The government had demanded they sing it
as an eternal truth, and the people chose to
keep singing it as a punchline. It functioned
as a quiet, profound form of intellectual rebellion.
It is the ultimate collective eye roll at the
state's expense. A dangerous eye roll, but yes.
When you step back and look at the entire lifespan
of Moscow peaking, the trajectory is just staggering.
It really is. It begins as a desperate, transactional
poem scratched out by Mikhail Vershinin in a
freezing forced labor camp. Solely to survive.
Yeah. Through sheer bureaucratic serendipity,
it is transformed into a gleaming state -sanctioned
anthem that receives the highest honors from
dictators like Mao and Stalin. Then it gets the
surgical edit. Right. Awkwardly edited to erase
Stalin's name to appease a new regime. Shortly
after that, it is entirely banned because the
eternal friendship it celebrates dissolves into
border conflicts. And finally. Finally, it ends
its life as a sarcastic punchline deployed by
the very citizens it was originally designed
to be. As we conclude this deep dive, I want
to leave you with a final thought to consider
as you reflect on the history we have unpacked
today. Please do. We explored the jarring reality
of Mikhail Vershinin's circumstances, authoring
a jubilant national anthem from the depths of
a forced labor camp. It forces us to ask a difficult
question about the legacy of culture under authoritarianism.
Yeah. When we study the grand cultural achievements,
the soaring architecture and the monumental art
of history, how much of it was born from genuine
transcendent human inspiration and how much of
it was simply manufactured by terrified individuals
doing whatever was necessary to survive the machinery
of their time?