In today’s world experiencing serious geopolitical turbulence, you are engaged in soft power – cultural cooperation. Yet, as has been known since the time of Ancient Rome, Inter arma silent Musae – “When the weapons speak, the muses fall silent” (though the original quote referred to laws, not muses). In this context, how much work are you faced with?

The world is, indeed, in a state of uncertainty. And we apparently need to learn to live in the new reality of various conflicts, including military ones. For some time, this will be our environment. Nevertheless, in such times, preserving any ties at the humanitarian level, what diplomats call the second and third tracks, becomes especially valuable. These are not interstate relations but connections between people and cultures. It is important to understand the distinction. Political life happens here and now, while relations between cultures and ethnicities have a long history. Roughly speaking, politics deal with the present and the short-term future, while culture deals with eternity.

Of course, the favourite phrase of cultural figures that culture is above politics is a convention. Everything depends on interstate relations and on conflicts on various territories. Yet, I think that relations in the sphere of culture and creativity exist at hand’s length from interstate relations. Let me give a simple example. Today, it is impossible to speak of cultural exchange between Russia and Ukraine, it does not exist. Even so, the fact that the Russian language and Russian culture are banned in Ukraine today in no way means that Ukrainian culture is banned in Russia. We are not cancelling Shevchenko or Kropyvnytskyi, just as we are not cancelling Molière or Shakespeare, despite the fact that, in today’s political life, France and Great Britain are unfriendly states. It should be noted that this is a long-standing tradition going back to Soviet times. When, during the Second World War, in 1942, the writer Ilya Ehrenburg wrote the famous words “Kill the German!” (in an article in the newspaper Krasnaya Zvezda – WR editor’s note), it received a negative assessment in the Politburo, and everyone quoted Stalin’s words that, while Hitlers come and go, the German people remain. At that same time, during the war, Pasternak was translating Goethe’s Faust.

How active is Russian international cultural policy now and what are the key directions here?

Serious emphasis is being placed today on cooperation with China. This year marks the end of the two-year cultural marathon between China and Russia. Upon its completion, contacts will not be interrupted, of course, but cross-years provide an important impetus, horizontal ties between cultural institutions are formed, and this multiplies into the future. In the same way, we are now planning a science and education exchange year with Vietnam in 2026.

We have good contacts with India, and are discussing major exhibition exchanges and even joint film production. Yet India has one peculiarity, it lacks venues. Indians love ballet, but there are literally only two suitable venues in the entire country. The Indian film market is now opening up a bit, but it is self-sufficient and lives within itself, simply because local audiences are used to watching their own films. A project for Russia and India cross-years, proposed to our Indian colleagues at a recent meeting, is currently under development. 2027 marks the 80th anniversary of India’s independence, proclaimed in 1947, and in 2028 – the 200th anniversary of the birth of Leo Tolstoy, whose correspondence with Mahatma Gandhi at the time stimulated Russian-Indian humanitarian contacts.

We also have contacts with Brazil and Mexico. With the latter, we have an intergovernmental commission on culture, science, education, sports, and youth affairs, which I head on the Russian side. This is a complicated story, since Mexicans are the closest neighbours of the United States and cannot help but be orientated on them. But work is under way.

We regularly hold festivals of Russian culture in Japan, and this is a serious cultural manifestation. Next year will see the 20th festival, with the Igor Moiseyev Ballet, the Bolshoi Theatre with Valery Gergiev, Denis Matsuev, and performances by the Theatre of Nations are expected to go to Japan. So cultural ties with Japan have not been interrupted, and I hope they won’t be. The Japanese government does not provide financial help but it does not hinder their preservation either. The situation is more complex in the Republic of Korea. Obviously, there are people there who will facilitate tours by Russian artists, and others who will oppose them. Both Japan and Korea are countries with which we work, let’s say, on a semi-state basis.

Unlike many, I am not writing off Europe. There are short-sighted, in my view, political elites there, primarily because they have interrupted any form of dialogue. But we still cannot escape European culture, and we cannot change geography. Nor can they escape us, no matter what walls their authorities and media try to build. Moreover, when we say we are turning to the East, in the East we are perceived as Europeans.

Promotion of culture often requires it to be adapted to the different cultural environment where it is being promoted. Is a different interpretation of Russianness needed in different countries?

This is a very serious question: what Russia do we want to promote abroad? I have been engaged in cultural cooperation since the end of the 1970s, that is, for almost 50 years. And the demand has always been the same: the Bolshoi Theatre, the Mariinsky Theatre (the Kirov Theatre in Soviet times), the Igor Moiseyev Ballet, the circus, and several top-class symphony orchestras. It must be said that Russia is a country of outstanding, super-professional philharmonic art, which has been maintained for at 150 years. If you recall, Carnegie Hall at the end of the 19th century was opened by Pyotr Tchaikovsky, conducting his own works. The Soviet Union had another important segment – cinematography, which, of course, could compete on equal terms globally, since all the great directors – Eisenstein, Kozintsev, Dovzhenko, Romm, Kalatozov, Bondarchuk, Tarkovsky, Konchalovsky, Mikhalkov – created unique national cinematic art. Today, people sometimes like to evaluate a particular film by saying: “Well, just like in Hollywood!” But “just like in Hollywood” interests no one, because it’s still worse than in Hollywood. But “just like in Russia” – that’s a different matter. We must present to the world today what is uniquely domestic, not globally industrial.

After the Second World War, the Great Patriotic War, the Soviet Union had two great projects: nuclear and space, which pulled everything along with them: education, science, etc. Today, unfortunately we are not the only ones in space but we have breakthroughs related to AI, genetics, nuclear physics. We are seriously engaged in studying the brain, which is a key issue in science today, since humanity has had many illusions about how we ourselves are structured.

The kind of ballet that exists in the Bolshoi Theatre does not exist anywhere else in the world, simply owing to accumulated tradition. Performing arts are at a very high level, as is demonstrated by the laureates of the Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky competitions. We have preserved a unique system of folk ensembles. Tours by the Pyatnitsky Choir or Vainakh from Chechnya, dance groups from Tatarstan and Bashkortostan always make a huge impression. On the one hand, this is national identity while, on the other, the highest class of professional skill. In its time, in 1937, when Igor Moiseyev Ensemble was established, this combination of high classics and folklore yielded a unique result.

That is, we have something with which to show today’s Russia. But here an important question arises: why are we doing this? Not just to prove to the world that we are good but also to derive substantial benefit from it. We want to attract advanced young people who could come here to work. After all, Westerners work like a vacuum cleaner, sucking up from universities in Eastern Europe, Africa, and Asia, the most valuable personnel and keeping them for themselves. In the 1980s, there was a joke: what is an American university? It’s where a Russian professor teaches Chinese students. We need “brainiacs”. It is important for the country to be open to absorbing the best from all over the world.

Another important point: all this is also done so that we can ultimately live surrounded by well-disposed states. This is difficult because every state has its own interests, its own understanding of life. Even when we say we want to unite countries with traditional values, we need to understand that such values also differ everywhere, and we must treat this with patience and understanding. But to be loved, you need to have a good attitude towards yourself. Now, the current geopolitical situation provides a truly unique opportunity to focus on ourselves. There have never been so many tours across Russia, performances in the regions by the best troupes, as in the last three years. And this is also extremely important.

Who are the main bearers of Russian culture in the world now?

If we look at world playbills, Russian names are present there. Teodor Currentzis represents Russia all over the world. Dmitri Tcherniakov is today one of the most in-demand directors on the world opera stage. Valery Gergiev, Denis Matsuev, Vadim Repin, Boris Berezovsky, Vladimir Vishnevsky, who recently won the Rachmaninoff competition – there are many such names, and they are in demand. The St. Petersburg Symphony Orchestra, the Bolshoi and Mariinsky Theatres, the Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko Music Theatre always interest foreign audiences. Major film festivals currently demonstrate a harsh attitude towards Russian filmmakers, yet some names do appear on major international platforms, such as the film Air by Alexey German Jr., which was included in the programme of the Tokyo International Film Festival. When it comes to literature, there are the books of Pavel Basinsky, Evgeny Vodolazkin, Alexey Varlamov, Yana Wagner, Andrey Rubanov, Anna Basner, Andrey Volos, Andrey Dmitriev – I’m naming them off the top of my head now because there are many more names. The Intervision competition showed that we can also promote our national pop stage, although, of course, world pop culture remains largely English-speaking for now. But Intervision demonstrated that one can be a regional performer and, at the same time, be in demand in a large space. This is a new phenomenon. No international market for pop culture in national languages has formed yet, but it undoubtedly has prospects.

When you think about promoting Russian culture in a specific region, how much do you have to adapt?

I have always said and tell my colleagues: ask the country what they want. I don’t really like the term “soft power”, which is often used to denote cultural cooperation. Why? Because power is power, and it’s better to be strong than soft. But cultural ties are like love. You must not dictate your own terms, but ask your partner: what do you want, what is interesting and important to you? Everyone is interested in Russian culture but different countries need different segments of it. I had a Japanese friend who asked me to find her a Russian husband. I asked her: why do you need that? And she said: I want to suffer. People from another country extract from Russian culture the spiritual vitamin that is important for them. To put it very roughly, Japan is a country of Dostoevsky and Chekhov; there are many of their screen adaptations and plays there, while India and China are Tolstoy countries.

Do not seek identity. Seek diversity. That is the greatest wealth. We are interesting to one another because we are not alike. The old illusion of the 18th century was that we should love one another because of our sameness. The problem of the 21st century is that we must love one another because we are different. And this requires tremendous effort and colossal attention. As a Japanese colleague told me in the old days, cultural ties are like Chinese medicine: you need to do the same thing for a very, very long time to achieve any result.

Theatre is your first professional incarnation. Have this theatrical openness, tolerance, and empathy ever interfered with your current diplomatic work, where sometimes toughness is required?

There was a joke: a girl knew 26 languages but did not know the word “no” in any of them. Well, diplomacy is an art where we should not use the word “no”. There should be many shades of the word “yes”, and some shades of “yes” will still mean “no”. The most important thing is the art of dialogue. You must feel your interlocutor, even if he is unpleasant to you, you must understand what he is saying and why. But the art of dialogue is important everywhere: in family life, in raising children, at work, in the theatre, in diplomacy. Stanislavsky said: you go on stage – play the other person. Not yourself – the other one. That’s all.

In one of your interviews, you called yourself a crisis manager, considering how you managed to launch the Kultura (Culture) channel in 1990 in just 40 days and, in 2000, when there was no money available for culture, you became the Minister of Culture. Do you see yourself as one now?

I think not. Another question is that the crisis is now becoming a constant, and there will be no quick way out of it. Culture, in general, does not imply quick results. So, when I see per capita attendance numbers for exhibitions, I shudder. It is impossible to calculate in economic terms what spiritual changes have occurred in a person per rouble of investment. Because, though spiritual changes do occur, they do not do so quickly but in a special way.

Then who do you see yourself as now?

Today, I rather feel like a teacher. Unfortunately, I am less and less able to discover anything new and am increasingly passing on previous experience. I am currently teaching a course at Moscow State University, at the Higher School of Cultural Policy and Administration in Humanities. Throughout this semester, I talk about the crisis cases I encountered in my practice and the solutions found. And I often explain simple things: what can be done and what cannot. For example, you cannot shout because it is pointless – many don’t understand that. What mechanisms work in life, etc. So now I am more of a consulting professor.

The Moscow Musical Theatre you founded will celebrate its 15th anniversary next year. What achievements are you particularly proud of?

The Theatre was born when I realized I had become somewhat bored and needed to cheer up somehow. It was more of an improvisation than a conscious plan; I didn’t fully realize what I was getting into. But when, after the first performance, we went into debt, it became clear that we had to do the next one to pay off those debts. And this has gone on for 15 years. But speaking seriously, I really like it when something appears out of nothing. That was the case with the Kultura channel, with the Higher School of Cultural Policy, and with the Musical Theatre. It turns out that, if you concentrate and show will, you can create something seemingly out of nothing. That is the greatest pleasure for me.

In the end, we were the first to manage to create a national musical theatre – precisely a theatre, not one-off projects. We managed to create an atmosphere. We have a completely wrong management, a homely atmosphere, many married couples within the theatre, including my wife, the art director. A sort of Italian mafia. When we started, we told everyone it would be like on Broadway: strict contracts, business. But that is not the Russian way at all. A theatre must have a human atmosphere. If it doesn’t, no art is born. Art is generally born only in love. Like children. It does happen by accident, of course. Our first performance happened by accident, but all the others were born in love.

Can we say that you are satisfied with the point the theatre has reached over these years? And what are your plans for the next 15 years?

If I said I was satisfied with everything, I would be an idiot. Yes, we are successful, audiences come to us, we are loved. People have learned about us, they have stopped asking for tickets to the Pushkinsky cinema. But I am always afraid of success. Because, as soon as you have a successful premiere, it becomes scary: what next? They tell me, let’s do another The Circus Princess or another Crime and Punishment, but that’s impossible. We can’t jump higher, so we need to look in a completely different direction. So, we are now working with Sergey Zhukov (soloist of the Ruki Vverkh! pop group – WR editor’s note) on a musical called Crybaby. It’s a story about bullying at school and young people entering life. It is being directed by Valery Markin. Work on Don Quixote has been going on slowly for the second year now. The play was written by Oleg Malovichko, one of today’s best screenwriters, the music by the very talented singer and composer, Leonid Agutin. And we are trying to make a big musical out of this.

Well, besides that, we are building a theatre. And this, I think, is the biggest musical of my life. It will be in the Hermitage garden. We have finished the design project and will soon start construction. It’s very scary because it’s a private theatre paid for with private money, which we are again borrowing. But I said I would die when we pay off all our debts. And that is an absolute formula for protection against dying.

You were the author of the idea and libretto for the musical One Doesn’t Choose the Times and, by 2018, for your anniversary, you released the premiere of Life Is Beautiful, named after your TV programme. Can the titles of these productions be considered your life credo?

Well, “one doesn’t choose the times” is a common saying; we live and die, where can we go. But “life is beautiful” – that is absolutely my credo. I believe this is what people need to be told all the time. In fact, when we created the theatre, my impetus was not an artistic but a kind of foolishly optimistic one. I wanted people to come to us and for just three hours understand that life is beautiful, that it has meaning. That is the motto I live by.