The Roots of Post-War Cultural Efforts—Enthusiasm Turns to Disillusion

The Iranian body curating cultural relations with the Soviet Union was the Anjoman-e ravābet-e farhangi-ye irān bā ettehād-e shuravi (Society for Cultural Relations between Iran and the Soviet Union).Footnote ⁶ It was founded in Tehran in 1943 and registered in 1944, driven by Iranian initiative and significant Soviet encouragement and support.Footnote ⁷ Past, often brutal repressions of socialist sentiment by Reza Shah coupled with new political freedoms and the victory of the Red Army at Stalingrad were fueling pro-Soviet enthusiasm among the Iranian intelligentsia and artistic community, already sympathetic to leftist principles and admirers of Russian literature.Footnote ⁸ A key role in the creation of the organization was played by individuals such as Mohammad Taqi Bahār; Saᶜid Nafisi, who proposed writing a new Shāh-nāme about the Battle of Stalingrad; and the outstanding Iranian prose writer of the twentieth century, Sādeq Hedāyat, whose short story “āb-e zendegi,” or “Water of Life,” was inspired by the Battle of Stalingrad and featured a “country of eternal hope” standing in for the Soviet Union.Footnote ⁹

The Society worked closely with the Soviet umbrella organization, the All-Union Society of Cultural Ties Abroad (Vsesoyuznoe obschestvo kul’turnoi svyazi c zagranitsei, VOKS), founded in 1925.Footnote ¹⁰ VOKS supported, directed and supplied materials for the Society for Cultural Relations much as the British Council did for the Anglo-Persian Institute (established in Iran in 1942). The US State Department also supported an Iran‒America Society (established in 1946).Footnote ¹¹ But unlike the British and US cultural centers, the Iran‒Soviet Cultural Society was officially an Iranian organization with an Iranian director, although there were also Soviet citizens on staff and the USSR clearly provided guidance and financial support, such as assisting with rent for the premises.Footnote ¹² Perhaps the USSR did not found its own official cultural center as a kind of extended korenizatsiya, the early Bolshevik anti-colonial policy of “indigenization.” The Soviet approach generally was more “immersive”: while it seems that American and British cultural representatives often did not know Persian or have a background in Iranian studies, Soviet staffers were usually fluent.Footnote ¹³ Boundaries between Soviet and Iranian identities were also deemphasized in ways that would have been impossible in relation to the United States and Britain simply due to geography. Soviet republics with historical ties to Iran, such as Tajikistan, Uzbekistan and Azerbaijan, were given special emphasis—a carryover from prewar Soviet propaganda efforts. The Society encouraged writers, such as Saᶜid Nafisi and Sādegh Hedāyat, to travel to the Soviet Republics and to write about their experiences.

According to its charter, the Society’s goal was the development and strengthening of cultural ties between the peoples of Iran and the USSR, for which it had the right to hold lectures and events about the Soviet Union and to translate Soviet literature into Persian and Iranian literature into the languages of the peoples of the USSR. It organized plays, concerts and sporting events, provided assistance to figures in the sciences, art and literature, and organized special courses for the study of Russian in Iran.Footnote ¹⁴ Over the years, a library comprising thousands of volumes was collected.Footnote ¹⁵

A Persian language periodical, Payām-e no, was published, which devoted half of its material to Iranian and half to Soviet topics. In later years it would have to soften its tone, but in 1946, Sādeq Hedāyat published a story entitled “fardā” or “Tomorrow,” depicting the beating of an Iranian woman by a drunken American soldier and the subsequent beating of an Iranian man who tries to defend her.Footnote ¹⁶ Payām-e no was later shut down by the Iranian authorities, then re-launched under the name Payām-e novīn, but the Tudeh party and politics in general were off-limits in the new periodical.Footnote ¹⁷ The magazine had an Iranian editor with some Soviet citizens on staff who provided materials about the Soviet economy and scientific achievements, as well as short stories and talks by cultural figures that were translated into Persian. The magazine was distributed to libraries and educational facilities and by subscription.Footnote ¹⁸ As on other fronts, there was an American counterpart: “Iran and the USA” was published in Farsi and English from 1946, although it appears to have lasted only about two years.

Before Stalin’s delayed withdrawal of Soviet troops and machinations in Iranian Azerbaijan, the Society rode a wave of pro-Soviet sentiment that brought rapid openings of branches in other Iranian cities and rural areas, although the extent to which the many branches and sub-branches were effective and sustained is unclear.Footnote ¹⁹ Based on the model of the Cultural Society, in April 1945 the anjoman-e farhangi-ye kurdistān va shuravi (Kurdistan‒Soviet Cultural Relations Association) was founded, and a VOKS office functioned in Iranian Azerbaijan, headed by the Soviet consul in Rezaiyeh.Footnote ²⁰ A telling indicator of the impact of Soviet cultural policy at the time—or at least of the concern that it elicited—was that the Iranian authorities considered Kurdish independence efforts to be at least partially a consequence of the Mahabad office of the Cultural Society.Footnote ²¹

One of the Society’s early triumphs was holding the First Congress of Iranian Writers in 1946, to which seventy-eight writers and poets were invited, among them luminaries of Iran’s literary scene. Russian and Soviet literature and ideas were prominently discussed, such as socialist realism and the critical approaches of Chernyshevsky and Belinsky. Tudeh members and leftist writers were not the only attendees, and the congress displayed a variety of viewpoints. Intellectual historian Ali Gheissari sees the congress as representative of a unique moment in Iran’s relationship with leftism and the Soviet Union: the mutual tolerance of the participants “disappeared in later years as literary occasions and associations of intellectuals became increasingly doctrinaire in their political outlook … The congress was one of those rare moments that not only encapsulates a period, but also hints at what is to come.”Footnote ²²

Strategies for Treading Lightly

Iranian power structures were wary of foreign propaganda efforts by all embassies and foreign cultural organizations, especially in the postwar decade. American embassy dispatches note warnings by Iranian officials that outright anti-Soviet propaganda would not be tolerated,Footnote ²³ and the Iranian government placed even greater restrictions on Soviet cultural organizations, even during the period of the shah’s “disappointment” with US policy in the late 1950s.Footnote ²⁴ The Society and its publications made a point of avoiding direct promotion of communist ideology and references to the Tudeh party.Footnote ²⁵ Concern over the appeal and effects of Soviet influence stemmed, naturally, from the historical context of Iran’s relations with the Soviet Union and the Russian Empire but also from external pressures as Cold War tensions mounted. In addition to outwardly sidelining politics, the Society protected itself from government restrictions by forging alliances with influential counterweight elements, such as those within the army and the shah’s circle. This began early, as noted by Iran scholar James Pickett in describing the Society’s spread prior to the Azeri crisis in 1946: “The Society was careful to involve the regional civilian or military authorities as members of the governing board of the Society branch, which—particularly in the northern regions—would not have been difficult.”Footnote ²⁶ Iranians with Russian connections were also often involved. The first postwar chairman of the Society was Amānullā Jahānbāni. Born in the 1890s, Amānullā had not only received a military education in pre-revolutionary Russia and served with Russians in the Cossack Brigade, but he was married to a Russian, Elena Kasminskaya. A subsequent chairman was Abdol Hossein Masud Ansari, who had studied in St. Petersburg, where his father had worked as an Iranian diplomat in tsarist Russia. He was governor of Rasht during the Azeri crisis in 1946 and would later become Iranian ambassador to the Soviet Union and enjoy warm relations with Nikita Khrushchev.

Gennady Avdeev, an Iran scholar who worked for the Society in the 1960s and 1970s, commented:

Films and plays had to be green-lighted by inspectors of the Iranian Ministry of Education prior to being shown,Footnote ³⁰ and the teaching of any subject other than the Russian language required separate Iranian approval. While adults could attend courses, high school students needed their headmasters’ permission. The Iranian Ministry of Education also reserved the right to approve syllabi, and formal group discussions outside the program were officially prohibited. What is more, it was reported to Moscow, the Iranian authorities employed other, unofficial deterrents: often putting those who attended events sponsored by Soviet‒Iranian organizations under surveillance and even sanctioning provocations targeting those events.Footnote ³¹ Grant Voskanyan, who worked at the Society from the late 1950s to the late 1960s as a deputy representative, deputy editor at the periodical Payām-e no, and a Russian language teacher, recalled:

The Pivotal Year of 1953

In historian Artemy Kalinovsky’s words: “Moscow’s policy between 1947 and 1952 was focused on protecting its (limited) economic interests and keeping a watchful eye on the British and American presence in Iran”; and from the Iranian perspective, in the succinct formulation of Mohammad Mahdiyān: “Until the last days of Stalin’s life, relations between Iran and the USSR were extremely tense.”Footnote ³³ Nineteen fifty-three marked a turning point in the cultural contest of the superpowers in Iran: Stalin died and with him the weariness at the prospect of attempting serious policy goals or outreach in Iran after the post-war failure to gain oil concessions; then Mosaddeq was toppled by the other two major foreign players, which in contrast to the Soviets had intensified their efforts at influence. While the powers that be in Tehran were now beholden to the US—which, in the words of one US diplomatic officer, had gone from being “a very large player” to “the player” in Iran—the Americans and especially the British were newly tarnished after the coup.Footnote ³⁴ In the fallout over the oil dispute, the British Council closed from 1952 to 1955. But the Soviets, having sat this intervention out, had a new leadership and outlook with Khrushchev and saw an opportunity to step up their efforts on the cultural front, efforts that soon began to bear fruit.Footnote ³⁵

Just months after Stalin’s death in 1953, Tehran university professor Ali-Asghar Hekmat led an Iranian delegation to Moscow.Footnote ³⁶ In 1954, the “Soviet‒Iranian Agreement on Regulating Border and Financial Issues” was signed, which contributed to easing political tensions that had arisen due to the Iranian government’s crackdown on the Tudeh party and Soviet sympathizers in the wake of Mosaddeq’s overthrow—a crackdown that also led to the temporary closure of the Cultural Relations Society.Footnote ³⁷ A year later, however, the shah and his wife made a historic visit to the USSR.

The Soviet mindset was undergoing changes as part of the “de-Stalinization” process. At the same Twentieth Party Congress in 1956 in which Stalin’s “Cult of Personality” was denounced, presidium member Anastas Mikoyan declared, “The East has awakened, yet our scholars of the East still sleep.” There was a growing opinion that Soviet orientalism had slipped back into “antiquarian philological interests” and away from “contemporary political problems.”Footnote ³⁸ That “outdated” mode of studying the East had been rejected by the Soviets once already, in the 1920s with the rise of “Red Orientalism,” but the Stalinist purges had emptied the corridors of the Institute of Oriental Studies in Moscow.

On the diplomatic side, in 1957, the Communist Party leadership determined that VOKS was also “out of touch” and transformed it into a new organization: the Union of Soviet Societies of Friendship and Cultural Ties with Foreign Countries (Soyuz sovetskikh obshchestv druzhby i kul’turnoi svyazi s zarubezhnymi stranami, SSOD). The new incarnation was to foster less formal, more open and more vibrant cultural ties abroad and usher in new forms of cultural contact.Footnote ³⁹

All of the major “cultural contestants” in Iran engaged in a variety of forms of cultural outreach, from classical music to athletics, but each knew its forte: Iran’s political elite had a soft spot for Britain, and despite the accompanying mistrust, Britain was still considered the “imperialist power par excellence.”Footnote ⁴⁰ The British were the standard bearers of the ever more prestigious English language, offering English classes in multiple Iranian cities, and were the heirs of Shakespeare. The Anglo-Iranian Drama Society staged Shakespeare’s Othello and Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus in Tehran in 1946—in Persian with a Persian cast—and a later Council representative in Iran was a leading Shakespeare scholar.Footnote ⁴¹ The Americans had a magnetic, if not old and august, pop culture exemplified by Hollywood; and the Soviet Union, alongside the shared Persianate heritage in the Caucasus and Central Asia, boasted an excellent reputation in high art: literature, classical music and thought-provoking cinema.Footnote ⁴²

“The Most Important of the Arts”: Cinema

Cinematic competition between Soviet, American and British representatives in Iran began during World War II, with newsreel footage of their respective military exploits against the Axis.Footnote ⁴³ In 1950, the Cultural Society organized the first festival of Soviet cinema, the opening of which was held in the VOKS house of culture in Tehran and attended by the Iranian foreign minister as well as around 500 members of the Cultural Society.Footnote ⁴⁴ Included in the repertoire were documentaries about life in the republics of the Soviet Union, such as Tajikistan. Aside from the festival, regular screenings of Soviet films (dubbed and later subtitled in Persian) were soon being held in a special building the Cultural Society rented for cinema and theatrical performances; and in the summertime, screenings were held outdoors in a garden. Soviet fare generally resonated most with the less numerous educated classes—the same strata that made up the Tudeh party.Footnote ⁴⁵ Members of the Russian diaspora in Iran also frequently attended. In the realm of cinema, however, promulgators of Soviet culture faced stiff competition from the Americans, even though screenings of Soviet films were mostly free of charge. Well aware of the entertainment cachet of Hollywood, the US embassy in Tehran recommended coopting Mickey Mouse and Walt Disney himself for the US propaganda effort.Footnote ⁴⁶ The Soviets also knew their strong suit and aimed at a different segment of the cultural “market.” In his magisterial work on the history of Iranian cinema, Hamid Naficy notes the difference in spirit between Soviet and American film selections:

Avdeev recalled that

Music—The Universal Language

The high caliber of Soviet performers and Russian and Soviet composers of classical music made tours abroad by Soviet artists not only popular but “one of the most important channels of propaganda outside the Soviet sphere of influence,”Footnote ⁴⁹ providing something of an answer to the infectious dominance of American popular culture. What’s more, classical music was, at least ostensibly, removed from any political ideology. In 1954, the Bolshoi Theater troupe, along with star dancer Maya Plisetskaya, performed in India. One Indian paper declared that “the tour refuted the assertion of ‘enemies of the Soviet Union’ that Soviet art was ‘all propaganda and not art.’”Footnote ⁵⁰ In 1955, Soviet musicians toured the United States to much acclaim. American embassy personnel in Iran were well aware of its draw and worked to take the shine off of the Soviets’ new showpiece. A recently declassified dispatch from the US embassy in Tehran from 1953, noting the difficulties in pursuing outright anti-Soviet propaganda due to Iran’s official policy of neutrality, reported that “subtle anti-Communist activity has been carried on through the weekly music programs [sponsored by the US embassy]. No opportunity to point out how Soviet Russia controls her artists is overlooked in the music program notes.”Footnote ⁵¹

Thus it was no accident that, after a long and difficult period in relations with Iran, Moscow turned to its musicians for a “restart.” In early January of 1957, a group of Soviet artists arrived in Iran with People’s Artist of the USSRFootnote ⁵² and Bolshoi Theater soloist Pavel Lisitsian,Footnote ⁵³ violinist Galina Barinova, pianist Tamara Guseva and concert master Naum Valter, all competition laureates celebrated in the Soviet Union.Footnote ⁵⁴ On the heels of that concert, in the autumn of 1957 and at the invitation of the Tehran Philharmonic Society, celebrated Soviet violinist Leonid Kogan visited with his wife—also a renowned violinist, Yelizaveta Gilel'sFootnote ⁵⁵—and pianist Andrei Mytnik. Kogan gave three concerts: at the Tehran Philharmonic Society, at the Cultural Society, for the Soviet community in Tehran, and for the shah.

As was often the case for Soviet-sponsored events, publicity for the concerts was weak. They were intended for a relatively small circle of music fans and were only announced on small posters and in two evening newspapers—on the last page and in small print. Nor did the Soviet Ministry of Culture send any publicity materials about Kogan to Tehran despite requests by the Soviet embassy long before his arrival.Footnote ⁵⁶ If this was due to low expectations of interest among Iranians, Kogan’s first concert demonstrated there were many more classical music enthusiasts in Iran than had been anticipated. The concert was attended by members of the Tehran Philharmonic Society, the heads of the Cultural Society, senators and deputies of the Majlis, members of the diplomatic corps and other representatives of the Iranian elite and intelligentsia. Kogan played every concert to a packed house, with additional chairs brought in to accommodate the overflow crowd. After the last number, the audience remained in their seats demanding encores. Listeners gave an especially warm welcome to Kogan’s performances of Soviet composers Prokofiev, Khachaturian and Shostakovich, who were being heard for the first time in Iran.Footnote ⁵⁷

On 26 October 1957, Kogan was invited to give a concert for the shah, who was celebrating his birthday. Guests included the shah’s family and select members of the Iranian government, as well as King Faisal of Iraq. No representatives from the Soviet embassy or other diplomatic corps were invited, but Kogan must have told the embassy about the experience, as the attaché reported details to Moscow. The Soviet artists were treated as important guests rather than performers. Before and after the concert, the shah and his wife chatted with them at length—the shah’s wife interpreting between Kogan and the shah, as she knew German. In her name, all of the artists were given gold watches.Footnote ⁵⁸

In addition to concerts, Kogan heard several Iranian violinists, gave them advice on technique, and discussed the educational system in the USSR. As was noted in the report by the Soviet embassy in Iran, “the performances by the Soviet violinist L. B. Kogan in Iran helped to popularize the achievements of Soviet musical art among the Iranian population and were a positive, productive contribution to developing cultural ties between the USSR and Iran.”Footnote ⁵⁹

The Iranian press also noted the great success of the concerts. Reviews were published in the major newspapers of Tehran—Ettelāᶜāt, Keyhān and Post-e tehrān. The magazines Omid-e irān and Sinemā devoted entire articles to Kogan’s performance. Omid-e irān wrote on 3 November 1957: “Kogan is a superb violinist, the likes of which Iran has not ever seen. Not only that, but the majority of his concert pieces had never been performed in Iran before. Kogan’s visit to Iran is a great event for music fans.”Footnote ⁶⁰

Thus, Kogan, a much-honored musician within the Soviet Union and winner of numerous international competitions, became the first world-class violinist to perform in Iran. Back home, he soon earned the title of People’s Artist of the USSR and accepted a professorship at the Moscow Conservatory.Footnote ⁶¹

The program had consisted of European and Russian classical music, and works by Soviet composers.Footnote ⁶² This was a typical selection for Soviet performers abroad that might include Brahms and Beethoven, Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff, and Shostakovich and Prokofiev.Footnote ⁶³ The same tripartite repertoire was to be codified in the rules of the first International Tchaikovsky Competition held a year later in Moscow (which Kogan and Gilel's’ brother were instrumental in structuringFootnote ⁶⁴). Historian of Soviet music Kiril Tomoff explains how these three musical traditions, reflected in the three rounds of the competition, projected a Soviet self-conception extending beyond music:

Regardless of whether all of that was grasped by audiences—and to what extent that entire message was consciously intended—such a program conveyed a sense of building and progression beyond a western European foundation that would certainly have been palpable; and the formula seemed to work, judging by the popularity of the performances. Moreover, the ideological component was not blatant and could be ignored without lessening enjoyment of the program.

Kogan was not the only Soviet star to grace the Iranian musical scene. In late December 1962, at the invitation of the Tehran Philharmonic Society, renowned violinist and winner of scores of international competitions Rafail SobolevskyFootnote ⁶⁶ performed several concerts that proved immensely popular.Footnote ⁶⁷ Iranian music critics were again impressed, noting that Tehran was rarely visited by musicians of such high caliber.Footnote ⁶⁸

The demand for Soviet musicians in Iran was such that tickets for concerts were sold without discounts. On the other hand, the Philharmonic Society gave its members free tickets for concerts by other foreign artists, or offered considerable discounts, yet these took place in half-empty halls. Whether or not opinions were changing in Iran about the Soviet Union politically, representatives of the Tehran Philharmonic Society noted that thanks to the performances by Soviet artists, their own ticket sales were up;Footnote ⁶⁹ and archive records show that in May 1964 the Iranian embassy in the USSR inquired as to whether a job might be found at the Bolshoi Theater in Moscow for the Iranian citizen Hāydeh Changiziyān, who was at the time training at the ballet school in Cologne.Footnote ⁷⁰ The Ministry of Culture enrolled her in the Leningrad Choreography Academy for six months.Footnote ⁷¹ Soviet classical music enjoyed similar popularity in other parts of the world and the East. This was noted not only by US embassy observers, but US academics, who sometimes adopted a line not far removed from that of government employees. Barghoorn wrote in 1960 that

Folk and popular musicians from the southern Soviet republics also visited Iran. Much has been written about how the Soviet Union, with its vast borders encompassing a rich variety of cultures, leveraged its “cultural proximity”—in this case, the cultural and historical overlap between Central Asia and Iran. East and West, folk and high art, tradition and modernity were often merged.Footnote ⁷³ A Tajik ensemble of thirty singers and dancers gave repeated performances of ethnic Tajik song and dance as well as arias from European operas in the original European languages, which was quite striking for Iranian audiences. According to Voskanyan, Iranians “would question us about the Tajiks, who had an opera house, a theater, and an academy of sciences: ‘How can that be?’ … In Iran at that time, farangistān had broken down.”Footnote ⁷⁴ The showcasing of Tajikistan’s cultural infrastructure and modernization was the cultural analogue to the showcasing of its industrial infrastructure and modernization.

The performances by People’s Artist of the USSR Rashid Majid Ogly Behbudov were also enthusiastically met. He toured Iran for over two months, from 10 December 1962 to 13 February 1962, giving eighteen concerts in Tehran, Isfahan, Shiraz and Abadan, which were attended by a total of over 20,000 people. He also performed on Iranian television during the tour. Behbudov, an ethnic Azeri, was eager to visit Iranian Azerbaijan, but the Iranian authorities, wary of Behbudov’s popularity, refused on the grounds of unrest in the region and granted him permission to perform in Abadan instead.Footnote ⁷⁵

Exchanges and reports by Soviet diplomats at the time emphasized the strong impression Behbudov and Sobolevsky had made in Iran, and noted the “favorable opportunities for nurturing cultural, and in particular musical ties between the USSR and Iran,” urging the corresponding bodies in the Soviet government to assist in strengthening this aspect of Iranian‒Soviet ties.Footnote ⁷⁶ They took special note of the “effects of the trip by Behbudov, demonstrating that the art of musicians of Transcaucasian and Central Asian republics is very popular in Iran, especially among wide swaths of the population.”Footnote ⁷⁷

Iranian‒Soviet Intellectual Exchanges

In addition to Payām-e novin in Farsi, Soviet periodicals in English and French also played a role in disseminating information about the USSR, particularly among Iranian academics. Keenly aware of the sensitive political environment, Soviet diplomats in Tehran advised against sending classics of Marxism-Leninism and other political literature, which the Communist Party had proposed for distribution in Iran, and instead requested the magazines Sovetskii Soyuz and Novoe vremya in English and French, which were popular among Iranian readers,Footnote ⁷⁸ and were characterized by a mild ideological approach devoid of outright propaganda, focusing on foreign, primarily western readers.

From the 1960s, cooperation between Soviet and Iranian scholarly institutions and scholars developed actively in various disciplines of eastern studies, primarily Iranian studies, which since the nineteenth century had been energetically pursued in Russia and the Soviet Union, where innovative work was being done in the study of Iranian literature and history using modern methodology and mining the enormous stock of Persian manuscripts and literary masterpieces preserved in Russia and the USSR.Footnote ⁷⁹

Scholarly work on Iran was disseminated through book exchanges. The Institute of the Peoples of Asia (IPA) of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR (now the Institute of Oriental Studies and the Institute of Oriental Manuscripts of the Russian Academy of Sciences)Footnote ⁸⁰ worked with Tehran and Isfahan universities, the National Library of Iran, Anjoman-e ketāb (Book Society of Iran), the Iranian Society for the Study of Ancient Iran, and a number of renowned scholars and cultural figures—Professor Saᶜid Nafisi,Footnote ⁸¹ Professor Afshār, Dr. Yarshater, Professor Roknzādeh Ādamiyyat and the Assyrian public figure L. Teimurazova, among others. As was noted in an IPA letter to the Communist Party, these ties greatly facilitated the spread of information about the achievements of Soviet scholars and helped to establish friendly relations.Footnote ⁸² At the same time, cooperation was initially established with caution. In 1959, Tehran University placed an order only for the Great Soviet Encyclopedia and a few other books, but by March 1961 numerous university publications and reference books were being exchanged.

Soon the IPA was sending Iranian universities publications by its own researchers as well as from the Academies of Sciences of neighboring republics, including facsimile publications of Persian classics (Saᶜdi and Ferdowsi), studies by Soviet scholars on the history, language and economy of Iran, and translations of works of Oriental authors; and Iranian publications were making their way into libraries in Moscow, Leningrad, Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan and other parts of the USSR.Footnote ⁸³ At the request of Tehran University, eleven microfilms were prepared of ancient Persian manuscripts held in the Leningrad department of the IPA. This gift was presented on 18 September 1962 to the rector of Tehran University, Dr. Farhād, by the embassy of the USSR in Tehran in the presence of the chairman of the Cultural Society, General Jahānbāni, the director of the shah’s library, Dr. Mehdi Bāyāni, the director of the National Library of Iran, Professor Iraj Afshār, and a number of other scholarly elite. For the USSR, book exchanges and international library ties were one of the most important—and least expensive—areas of cultural cooperation with foreign countries.Footnote ⁸⁴ The USSR had become the world leader in volumes of books published and boasted a vast, well-organized library network.Footnote ⁸⁵

Regular ties were also established between the IPA and Isfahan University, including a lively book exchange with Anjoman-e ketāb, which received works by Ignaty Krachkovsky, Eugene Bertel’s and other prominent scholars; facsimile publications of manuscripts of classic Iranian, Arabic and other works; and studies by Soviet scholars on oriental languages, the Ancient East and other topics. There was an exchange of publications with the Iranian Society for the Study of the Culture of Ancient Iran. The IPA also worked with the Cultural Society and the representative of the Union of Societies of Friendship of the USSRFootnote ⁸⁶ in Iran. Cultural Society Secretary Ziyaullāh Forushāni provided assistance to IPA scholars preparing a large Persian dictionary for publication, sending them forty-five Iranian school textbooks.Footnote ⁸⁷ Close ties were established with Professor Saᶜid Nafisi, who was sent Soviet literature on Ancient Iran and Central Asia, and archeological and ethnographical works collected by an expedition to Khorezm. A systematic exchange of Assyriology materials was coordinated with L. Teimurazova, who gave many Assyrian publications to the IPA that were not previously available in the USSR.Footnote ⁸⁸

In 1963, a year after a second Iran‒Soviet détente was inaugurated with the shah’s pledge not to host foreign missile bases on Iranian territory,Footnote ⁸⁹ the Society of Cultural Ties with Iran (SOKSI) was opened as a successor organization to the Society for Cultural Relations between Iran and the USSR. It later opened offices in USSR republics.Footnote ⁹⁰

In the mid-1960s, new visits by Soviet Iran specialists to Iran began. While Soviet Iranian studies was closely and unapologetically linked with state policy, by focusing on classical Persian literature, Soviet scholarship was able to present a less politicized face.Footnote ⁹¹ What’s more, research in the Soviet Union on classical Persian culture, grounded as it was in the rich orientalist tradition developed in the Russian Empire, was a strong point.

In October 1964, Rustam Aliyev, a well-respected specialist in Persian classical literature and a senior research fellow at the IPA, was sent to Iran for two weeks to give lectures.Footnote ⁹² During the previous decade, not a single Soviet Iranian studies scholar had made an official visit to Iran. Now Aliyev was to be granted unprecedented opportunities to meet with students, scholars and cultural figures, and to communicate via radio with wide swaths of the Iranian population.Footnote ⁹³

Before his departure for Iran, Aliyev was prepped by the leadership of the IPA to stress—in as much detail as possible—the achievements of Soviet Iranian studies.Footnote ⁹⁴ During his two-week stay, he acquainted Iranian scholars with the main works of Soviet Iranian studies for the first time. He met with scholars and students at Tehran University, discussing the publication of canonical Iranian literature in the USSR—the preparation of critical texts of the poets Rudaki, Ferdowsi, Khayyām, Saᶜdi, Dehlawi and others—and the study of the languages and ancient history of Iran.Footnote ⁹⁵ He also delivered a lecture on “The Development of Soviet Iranian Studies” to almost the entire humanities faculty of Tehran University and over 500 students. This was the first time that such a large group of Iranian scholars had had the opportunity to learn directly about Soviet scholarship. According to a report in Russian archives, after Aliyev’s lecture, the dean of the literature faculty of Tehran University stated that

These encounters aroused enormous interest and numerous questions, it was reported back to Moscow. As Soviet Iranian studies scholars had done extensive work in establishing authoritative texts for many of the classics of Persian literature, such as the Shāh-nāme, Aliyev was asked to deliver a lecture on the principles of preparing and publishing texts. This lecture was recorded on tape for subsequent publication, and Aliyev received an invitation to speak at Isfahan University and on the radio program Marzhā-ye dānesh (The Limits of Knowledge) on the topic “Tajikistan and Iranian Studies in the USSR.”Footnote ⁹⁷ The program was hugely popular in Iran, and only the most outstanding Iranian scholars appeared. Aliyev was the first foreign scholar to be invited, and according to reports from Soviet observers, his radio lecture captivated listeners, who sent numerous letters to the station requesting a repeat of the broadcast.

Aliyev also spoke at Isfahan University. A Soviet diplomatic report enthused that the event was attended not only by professors, students and graduates of the university, but also poets, writers, journalists and other representatives of the intelligentsia, and practically the entire city government (the mayor, police chief and other officials)—over 1,000 people.Footnote ⁹⁸ Aliyev’s tour included a talk at the Soviet embassy on the topic of “The Achievements of Soviet Iranian Studies and their Significance in Strengthening Cultural Ties,” and at the Cultural Society on “The Study of Iranian Culture in the USSR,” which drew around 550 people—many from the Iranian intelligentsia, it was reported.Footnote ⁹⁹

Aliyev did make a foray out of the classical past, noting the great popularity of the “new style” in poetry among young Iranian poets and students, formed under the influence of the work of Mayakovsky, Nazim Hikmet and progressive French poetry, which broke the canons of classical poetry; but he did not suggest cooperation with Iranian universities in the study of contemporary Iranian poetry, in light of the ongoing battle in university circles against the “new poetry.”Footnote ¹⁰⁰

A month after Aliyev’s return, Gafurov sent a report on the trip to the State Committee for Cultural Ties With Foreign CountriesFootnote ¹⁰¹ that included Aliyev’s account of comments made to him upon departure from Iran:

Similar sentiments were expressed by other officials and scholars, such as the deputy minister of information, the mayor of Isfahan, and the heads of Tehran and Isfahan universities.Footnote ¹⁰³

The visit had produced the right impression, according to the gushing reports sent to Moscow. Soviet scholarship in general did not receive the amount of international recognition that might have been expected due to lack of publications in English and western European languages, in addition to political factors.Footnote ¹⁰⁴ While Soviet bureaucrats recognized the need to build contacts with the Iranian scholarly world, they were often lackadaisical in following up on Iranian interest. Among the few works by Soviet scholars that found their way to the general Iranian readership, the most in demand were critical texts and commentaries on Rudaki, Ferdowsi, Khayyām and Saᶜdi.Footnote ¹⁰⁵ The entire print run of the first two volumes of the Shāh-nāme had sold out in days, Aliyev was informed by owners of the well-known Iranian bookshops Tahuri, Ibn-Sinā and Kāshāni. The critical text of the Gulistān had been snapped up by readers with similar speed, prompting Tahuri to send off an order for 5,000 copies to the Soviet Union. But the owner complained to Aliyev that three years had passed without any reply. Nor was his the only bookshop to request more copies in vain. Several publishers independently reprinted the Persian text of the book, omitting the entire Russian text—to some extent apparently driven to piracy.Footnote ¹⁰⁶ The reason for the poor distribution of Soviet books in this case was not a lack of interest among Iranian readers or any obstacles caused by the Iranian authorities but the passive attitude of the Soviet organizations responsible for the export of books, in accord with the modest expectations of their superiors regarding Soviet‒Iranian relations.Footnote ¹⁰⁷

The heads of most scholarly institutions in Iran, despite some hindrances by the Iranian authorities, strove to work more closely with Soviet scholars and scholarly institutions, but cooperation was stymied by the lack of sufficient information in university circles about Iranian studies in the Soviet Union. Iranian universities and scholars repeatedly requested Soviet scholars to send their books to Iran and write articles for university journals, with inconsistent responses.Footnote ¹⁰⁸

Despite increased book exchanges, the relative scarcity of libraries in Iran, a lack and politicization of funds, and the exclusive use of the Russian language also limited the distribution of works by Soviet Iranian studies scholars. The forewords and commentaries to these books were published in Russian, which forced interested Iranian scholars and readers to resort to translators, of which there were precious few: Tehran University possessed only one specialist in Russian language and literature.Footnote ¹⁰⁹ Aliyev urged that in the future Soviet scholars provide at least a brief outline in Persian, since even English and French still had a limited readership in Iran. Furthermore, Iranian university journals should be used as a forum where Soviet Iran scholars could publish articles and reports, annotations of books, and monographs and anthologies devoted to Iran—especially as Tehran and Isfahan universities expressed a readiness to publish such materials.Footnote ¹¹⁰

At Isfahan University, a Russian language department was opened thanks to the efforts of the rector—an Iranian scholar sympathetic to the USSR, Professor ᶜAbbās Fāruqi. Shiraz University, on the other hand, was strongly under the influence of the United States, which gave the university significant financial support. Aliyev reported that faculty from the Literature Department of Shiraz University told him that they could not publish works in university publications with references to Soviet scholars.Footnote ¹¹¹

A major role in developing Soviet‒Iranian ties in Iranian studies was played by the Soviet delegation to the International Congress of Iranian Studies in Tehran, which took place from 31 August to 7 September 1966.Footnote ¹¹² The stated task of the congress was to collate the works of Iranian studies specialists the world over for the preparation of a detailed and all-encompassing history of Iran, i.e. an economic and social history, including the history of Iranian languages and culture, literature, fine arts and sciences. The official languages of the congress were Persian, English and French.Footnote ¹¹³ None other than Shah Mohammed Rezā Pahlavi gave the opening speech for the event, which saw the participation of 126 foreign scholars from thirty foreign countries and 101 from Iran.Footnote ¹¹⁴

The Soviet delegation included Aliyev, who continued his previous work of familiarizing Iranians with Soviet Iranian studies. The chairman of the delegation was Abdulgani Mirzoev, a professor at the Tajik SSR Academy of Sciences in Dushanbe.Footnote ¹¹⁵ Initially, the chairman was to have been Bobojon Gafurov, the ethnically Tajik director of the Moscow Institute of Oriental Studies, but in the end he was to remain only an organizer.Footnote ¹¹⁶ While documentation of the precise reason for Gafurov’s absence in Tehran has not been found, the replacement seems to have been motivated, again, by a desire to keep as far from politics as possible: Gafurov was known more as a politician than an academic.Footnote ¹¹⁷ The Soviet embassy in Tehran had responsibility for coordinating the scholars’ visit and wanted all the papers thoroughly reviewed beforehand and any hint of ideology or “excessively strident expressions” removed.Footnote ¹¹⁸ The majority of the papers were edited, some extensively so, and two were not advertised at all or given over for publication (although apparently delivered at the congress) because embassy staff felt they might be “interpreted as propaganda.”Footnote ¹¹⁹

The avoidance of politically and ideologically sensitive topics had been employed earlier, in 1960 at the Twenty-fifth International Congress of Orientalists in Moscow, and it seemed to have gained Soviet scholarship increased respect.Footnote ¹²⁰ Ironically, this pushed the scholars back into the fields of classical orientalism that had dominated tsarist-era Russian academia—ancient history, philology, high literature and art—the very opposite of the course toward contemporary studies that Mikoyan and others had called for in reforming Soviet orientalism. But it was a pragmatic tack.

Thus, at the plenary sessions of the congress, historiographical papers predominated. Each delegation was allowed one paper, and the Soviets chose Mirzoev’s: “Literary Source Materials in Transoxiana from the 16th to early 20th Centuries and their Significance.” The paper examined literary anthologies (tazkereh) hitherto little known or practically unknown in modern Iran that were devoted to Persian-language poets in Central Asia, India, Afghanistan and Iran. In the linguistic section, a paper was presented about an Aramaic inscription from the fifth century BC, in which the presence of an Iranian word was demonstrated and conclusions of a historical-linguistic nature were drawn. In the historical section, two papers were presented: “Concerning the Socio-Economic Periodization of the Seljuk Kingdom in Iraq” and “The Primary Historical Phases of Ancient and Medieval Iran.” The Soviet delegation presented five papers on literature and art.Footnote ¹²¹ Of all foreign delegations, the Soviets presented the most papers — nine in total — and, it was reported back to Moscow, attracted the largest audiences, who rated them highly.Footnote ¹²² Eight out of the nine papers were read in Persian, and one paper was read in English, as a way of refuting comments heard at several previous international symposiums, and behind the scenes at the start of this congress, that the excellent command of Persian among Soviet specialists was accompanied by a poor command of English.Footnote ¹²³

The Iranian delegation requested three members of the Soviet delegation (the largest number from one country) to read their papers on Iranian national radio. Congress participants from the USSR also spoke on Iranian television and discussed Soviet Iranian studies at a reception with the shah organized for the entire congress. The Soviet delegation noted in its report the personal interest the shah himself took in the delegates and their scholarly work and that he was well-informed about Soviet Iranian studies—which seemed a good sign politically.Footnote ¹²⁴

The result was that by the end of the 1960s, according to Yuri Rubinchik, who paid a scholarly visit to Iran in 1968, many Iranian scholars were already well acquainted with Soviet literature on Iran and were following scholarly publications in the Soviet Union. Moreover, books by Soviet Iran specialists were now being published in Persian translation.Footnote ¹²⁵

Physical Culture

Apart from the culture of the mind, the cultural détente did not overlook “physical culture,” as it was called in the Soviet Union. The organization of Soviet‒Iranian athletics events was facilitated by the fact the two successive heads of the Iranian Athletics Federation from the 1950s were Lieutenant General Amānullāh Jahānbāni (one of the first chairmen of the Cultural Society) and his son, General Nāder Jahānbāni. The latter was also involved in the Cultural Society. It will be remembered that his mother was Russian. Also important was that fact that Nāder was deputy chief of the Iranian Air Force and was married to the shah’s daughter.

The two countries organized numerous joint athletic events and programs. Wrestling, weightlifting and chess were the most popular sports, joined by football as it surged in popularity in the 1960s. Iranian athletes, primarily wrestlers and chess players, were regularly invited to take part in various tournaments in Tbilisi, Azerbaijan, Tajikistan and Moscow.Footnote ¹²⁶ Payām-e no carried a chess column, and in the late 1950s Soviet grandmaster Serebrekov gave simultaneous chess exhibitions and lessons in Tehran and Isfahan.Footnote ¹²⁷ In 1962 Iranian‒Soviet competitions in freestyle wrestling and chess were held, and the Iranian Football Federation requested Soviet cooperation in organizing a tournament in Iran with a class A team from the USSR.Footnote ¹²⁸ In late November of 1962, after the championship, Soviet premiere league team “Torpedo” visited Iran to play exhibition matches with teams from Tehran.Footnote ¹²⁹

But it was wrestling that proved to have the greatest resonance between the two countries. Both were able to field some of the strongest wrestlers in international competition, and both had indigenous wrestling traditions. In the world freestyle wrestling championships in 1961, the Iranian team won first place, while the Soviet team took second. In 1962, the USSR took first place, while Iran took third.

In Iran, with its ancient system of athletic and moral fitness as practiced in the zur-khāne gymnasiums, wrestling is more than mere sport—as was noted time and again by Soviet athletes and observers. Arkady Lents, a Soviet wrestler and later trainer and judge, gave this description of wrestling matches in Iran from the 1960s:

Any good sports relationship needs a rivalry, and Iran and the USSR got theirs from two legendary figures in free-style wrestling: Gholāmrezā Takhti and Aleksandr Medved’. Takhti won Iran’s first-ever Olympic medal with a silver in 1952 and followed with gold in 1956, alongside winning two world championships. He was known for his humility and generosity, a classic javānmard, and his biography would have put him on the fast track to party membership in the Soviet Union: the son of an ice-maker, he grew up in the working-class south of Tehran and was employed by the railroad.Footnote ¹³¹ Legends abound of his sportsmanlike character: at a match in Moscow, “After defeating the then-world champion Anatoli Albul, Takhti saw the sorrow in the face of Albul’s mother. Takhti went to her and said, ‘I’m sorry about the result. Your son is a great wrestler.’ She smiled and kissed him.”Footnote ¹³²

In 1961 Takhti defeated Soviet wrestler and future Olympic champion Boris Gurevich for the world championship. In 1962 he had to defend his title against Aleksandr Medved’ from Belarus. One version of events is that Medved’, who had wrestled four matches that day, was suffering from a leg injury, and rather than exploit this Takhti chivalrously avoided his opponent’s weak leg and thus ended up losing the match—which was a draw decided in favor of the wrestler with less body weight, i.e. Medved’.Footnote ¹³³ One of the authors heard this account recently at the zur-khāne “Hazhir” in Takhti’s stomping ground in the south of Tehran—given as an example of the priority placed on honor over victory in traditional Iranian wrestling. The “Hazhir” zur-khāne today has an active partnership with a wrestling gym in Medved’s native Belarus, the fruit of Soviet‒Iranian athletic cooperation during the 1960s.

Takhti wrestled Medved’ again in Tehran. A Soviet Armenian wrestler and later trainer, born in Azerbaijan, Yuri Shakhmuradov, recalled the atmosphere at this match:

Takhti wrestled aggressively this time, but Medved’ won. The Iranian crowd, though devastated, was reported to be extremely respectful of the Soviet victor, and the Iranian team nonetheless beat the Soviet team on points.Footnote ¹³⁵ To this day, Aleksandr Medved’ maintains a friendship with the late Takhti’s son.Footnote ¹³⁶