St Petersburg

There had been talk of returning to the traditional name since the early years of glasnost. The idea, which had first seemed utopian, was gathering popularity. It was being discussed—with growing boldness—at work, in lines, and even at meetings. Then, in 1991, through the efforts of reform-minded deputies in the Leningrad city council, it was brought to a citywide referendum, and the campaign turned into a political and cultural war.

The poet Alexander Kushner wrote expectantly, “I had the fortune to be born in Leningrad and I will die, God willing, in Petersburg.” His opponents were much more resolute. A member of the hastily organized Committee for the Defense of Leningrad announced, “The idea of renaming Leningrad is political speculation serving evil goals and promoting an increase in societal confrontation. Many people recall that the German name ‘St. Petersburg’ was on the maps of Hitler’s commanders and that they intended to rename Leningrad right after they took it. What the fascists did not manage to do, the deputies of the Leningrad city council want to achieve.”125

Reformers were accused not only of fascism and disrespect for the memory of the victims of the siege but also of monarchism. Typical was a letter published in the pro-Communist Leningrad newspaper Sovest’ (Conscience), “Why rename our city? So that dead tsarism can breathe on us?” The Communist Party in a special appeal called on people “not to allow mockery of the name of glorious Leningrad, a hero city, a warrior city, and a laborer.” A leading Communist, Yegor Ligachev, said that the Party considered a return to the traditional name “unwise.” “Leningrad earned its name with its blood.”126 Gorbachev’s official position was the same.

But the opponents of the Communists were growing stronger. A conservative newspaper complained, “Strange things are happening here in Leningrad. Almost the entire press of the city has become ‘democratic’ It’s become good manners to predict civil war, to propagandize a total renaming of all the streets, and to publish caricatures of Lenin.”127 A popular Leningrad television program regularly featured a picture of Lenin with the word “Enough!” written in bold letters across it. Liberals organized a noisy demonstration in front of the Maryinsky Theater, shouting, “Lenin’s name is a shame for a great city!”

These efforts were supported by the Russian Orthodox Church. The writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn, who also considered a change necessary, nevertheless spoke out against using St. Petersburg, which was foreign, and suggested a Russified rendering: SvyatoPetrograd. This was the first time a change in a city’s name had become the subject of such an all-encompassing discussion. The passions aroused showed that people saw an apparently symbolic act as one that was profoundly important. “They are invoking the most mysterious part of Russian history,” an observer noted.128

It seemed that many residents of the city had instinctively grasped the significance of this act. Names play a central part in every mythos. But in the Petersburg mythos the part was particularly obvious. The first time it changed its name, the city was subjected to horrible trials. A second change produced the same result.

The power in the name “Petersburg” was evidenced by the fact that, despite everything, everyone stubbornly called the city Piter. As Brodsky put it, “The reason for our loyalty to the word ‘Petersburg’ was not our anti-Sovietism but the nonsemantic content of the name. Even from the point of view of pure euphonics, the word, especially in its final ‘g,’ has a certain solidity, like a rock, for the Russian ear.”129 Faith in the power of a name, of a word per se, is typical of Russian intellectuals. In returning an old name to a great place, they passionately hoped to see a rebirth of its old grandeur.

The result of all this wrangling and soul-searching was a narrow victory at the referendum, held in June 1991, for the proponents of the name change. Mayor Sobchak reacted reasonably: “I think that the city’s residents made the right choice, and my position was the same. A city, like a person, must bear the name given it at birth, like it or not. By the way, Peter the Great had named our city in the Dutch manner, not the German.”

A delighted Brodsky gave his unconditional support. “After all, we are talking about a continuity in culture. Returning the city’s previous name is a means of at least hinting at continuity, if not establishing it. I am extremely pleased by this event. Because I am thinking not so much about ourselves as of those who will be born in St. Petersburg. It is much better for them to live in a city that bears the name of a saint than that of a devil.”130