From German Königsberg to Soviet Kaliningrad

Appropriating Place and Constructing Identity

Jamie Freeman

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781000221893
• Edition: 1
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Ancient History
• Index: History

This book explores how the Soviet Union, after capturing and annexing the German East Prussian city of Königsberg in 1945 and renaming it Kaliningrad, worked to transform the city into a model of Soviet modernity. It examines how the Soviets expelled all the remaining German people, repopulated the city and region with settlers from elsewhere in the Soviet Union, destroyed the key remaining German buildings and began building a model Soviet city, a physical manifestation of the societal transformation brought about by communism. However, the book goes on to show that over time many of the model Soviet buildings were uncompleted and that the citizens, aware of their Polish and Lithuanian neighbours to both the east and the west and appreciating their place in the wider Baltic region, came to view themselves as something different from other Soviet and Russian citizens. The book concludes by assessing present developments as the people of Kaliningrad are increasingly rediscovering the city's pre-Soviet past and forging a new identity for themselves on their own terms.

1 The banner of the Soviet Union is now forever established

The decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Council of the USSR of July 4, 1946 has formed the new Kaliningrad region as part of the RSFSR, which bears the name of the great son of the Russian people, the outstanding statesman Mikhail Ivanovich Kalinin. The Kaliningrad region has great historical, international and educational value for our country. Over the city of Königsberg, nowadays Kaliningrad, and the surrounding districts of the former East Prussia, from where the hordes of Kaiser Wilhelm and Hitler’s armoured gangs began their predatory campaigns into Russia, the banner of the Soviet Union is now forever established … Now there are no more dangers of German invasion from the West, and the Soviet Union has here a reliable stronghold. ¹

One of the immediate upheavals faced by the Soviets after the occupation of Königsberg in the summer of 1945 was how to approach the region’s German heritage. Whilst the German-built environment – scattered across the region amongst the rubble and ruins left by war – was envisaged to be paved over and rebuilt as a model socialist city, the continued existence of German towns and street names presented a different type of challenge. Although the region’s symbolic value was clear, the annexation of German Königsberg failed to sit comfortably within the Soviet historical narrative – having neither undergone revolution ‘from below’, nor having provided the liberation of an oppressed people from the vices of capitalism or fascism. Thus, when the instruction came in November 1945 to rid the city of the names of ‘fascist thugs, their leaders and other enemies of the people’, ² it was not immediately clear to the provisional military administration as to what they should be replaced with, nor how best to implement this task in a manner that could effectively assist in the sovietisation of the region. Indeed, initially at least, street names were replaced not with new Soviet names at all, but, rather, simply with their pre-1933 German alternatives: ‘General-Litzmannstraße, for example, once again became Stresemannstraße’. ³

Even as preparations began to prescribe new Soviet names for the city’s streets, the proposals offered by the provisional military administration remained distinctly pragmatic in scope. By and large, they continued to provide direct Russian translations of the German originals:

Steindammstrasse (stone embankment) became Kamennaia (stone); Altergrabenstrasse (old ditch) became Starokanavnaia; Langestrasse (long, although possibly also a surname) became Dlinnaia; Gartenstrasse (garden) became Sadovyi Pereulok; Poststrasse (post) became Pochtovaia; Hafenstrasse (port) became Portovaia; even Soldatenweg (soldier) preserved its meaning as Soldatskaia – although presumably referring to soldiers of a different army. ⁴

When direct translations were not possible, streets were often named after significant buildings in their vicinity – such was the case of ‘Drummstrasse (a surname), which became Klinicheskaia (clinic) and Augusta-Viktoria-Allee, which became Gospital’naia (hospital)’. Likewise, German street names that dictated specific cities or regions within Germany were simply renamed after Soviet cities instead: Wartenburgstrasse became Gorodskaia (city); Lübekstrasse became Novgorodskaia and Tapiauerstrasse became Belgorodskaia. ⁵

Early attempts to impose a new Soviet impression onto the East Prussian landscape were further hampered by the limited resources available to actually implement the (already lacklustre) suggestions provided by the provisional military administration. Indeed:

Soviet administrators, new settlers, and German civilians [continued] to use the German names for most streets in the city … In some cases, even the so-called fascist names remained in use. In a report from June 1946, the architect Timokhin still referred, without any degree of apparent self-consciousness, to General-Litzmann-Strasse. ⁶

Yet, with little direction from Moscow, the names suggested by the provisional military administration faced little opposition, and, by August 1946, many had become permanent fixtures in the city. Although there had been some amendments during their implementation by the new Civilian Affairs Administration, these largely consisted only of replacing direct German translations with more general names: for example, ‘Selkestrasse (a surname), having been recommended by the provisional military administration to be renamed Sel’skaia (village), was instead changed to Malyi Pereulok (little alley)’; likewise, ‘Holländerbaumstrasse, which first became Gol[l]andskaia, became Pribrezhnaia (Riverside)’. But, whilst such revisions may have helped distance the region from its German topography, they did little to promote Soviet presence in the region. Indeed, there remained noticeably few attempts to engage in cultural myth-making during the early renaming campaigns of Soviet Königsberg. ⁷

The incorporation of the region into the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR) and the renaming of Königsberg as Kaliningrad on July 4, 1946, however, signalled a noticeable shift in Moscow’s focus towards the region. Although street names for much of the city had already been implemented, settlements outside the city were yet to be allocated new titles. Here, the RSFSR Council of Ministers played a much larger role, adopting an approach reflective of a more general shift in Soviet policy that had seen ‘the naming and renaming of streets, squares, and parks’ become ‘an integral part of the post-war programme of urban agitation and identification’. ⁸

Indeed, similar programmes took place across the USSR. In his research into the development of urban identity in Soviet Sevastopol, for instance, Karl Qualls notes that post-war replanning in the city sought to resurrect ‘a unique, local character to which residents could attach their ideals and aspirations’ – heralding a ‘new emphasis on local identity, historical depth and national pride’. ⁹ In Sevastopol, this notion, somewhat counterintuitively, manifested itself through the revival of the city’s pre-revolutionary names – deemed more reflective of the city’s character than their post-revolutionary counterparts. For instance, a street named in honour of Karl Marx once again ‘reverted to Bol’shaia Morskaia (Big Naval) Street’: ‘Marx, of course, had no direct link to the city, only to its ruling ideology’ – Bol’shaia Morskaia Street, however, to a far greater extent, ‘carried the city’s image as a naval, both military and commercial, port’. ¹⁰

A local focus too informed the preparatory work of the RSFSR Council of Ministers, which was keen to use the renaming process in Kaliningrad to establish historical ties between the USSR and the former lands of East Prussia. Indeed, Stalin had already hinted at such links during the Tehran Conference in December 1943, stating that ‘historically speaking, this is ancient Slavic soil’. ¹¹ Likewise, a similar rhetoric was also utilised in militaristic propaganda throughout the war. As such, scholars from the Academy of Sciences in Moscow were requested to identify traces of ancient Russian-Slavic heritage in East Prussia that could be used to further reinforce this claim.

A. G. Kuman, a senior research associate at the Academy of Sciences, was one such scholar to respond to the request. Writing to suggest that the East Prussian and German place names had clear Slavic origins, he noted that there were several such names that ‘deserve[d] to be preserved’. For, ‘in them, despite their German transcription, the Lithuanian, and perhaps Slavic basis … can be restored in the correct national pronunciation’. The village of Niemonen – lying on the Niemen river, for instance, was deemed by Kuman to be ‘undoubtedly of Lithuanian origin’ and, in his opinion, likely indicated the village’s ‘true old Lithuanian/Slavic name’. ¹²

By far the most convincing argument for the existence of an old Slavic presence in the region, however, came from the Lithuanian Professor P. Pakarklis – a specialist on the Lithuanian people’s struggle against the Teutonic Knights. In a report dated February 12, 1947, Pakarklis asserted that, prior to the arrival of the Teutonic Order in 1255, the territory had been inhabited ‘exclusively by Lithuanians’. What is more, he claimed, despite the execution and extermination of many local people during the wars with the Teutonic Order and the beginning of German colonisation, through the thirteenth to sixteenth centuries, Lithuanians had continued to account for the overwhelming majority of the population. Likewise, until 1638, he argued, churches in the districts of Insterburg, Tilsit, Ragnit, Dabrau, Taplauken, Georgenburg, Zalau and Shaken continued to deliver all prayers and sermons exclusively in Lithuanian. The Lithuanian language had continued to be used in the Friedland, Gerduva and Fischhausen districts – only on the island of Königsberg alone, Pakarklis maintained, had the German language prevailed. Despite the sweeping Germanisation that took place during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, he contended, as late as 1940 in the regions of Tilsit and Rachita – as well as in parts of Labiau, Insterburg, Stalupenen and Goldap – elder generations could only speak Lithuanian, with nearly all middle-aged people also remaining fluent. Even during the years of Nazi terror, prayers and sermons continued to be offered in Lithuanian for the region’s older inhabitants. ¹³

Like Kuman, Pakarklis put forward a strong advocation for restoring the region’s old Lithuanian names:

I agree … that the Lithuanian names of the Kaliningrad region should not be replaced by new ones. The Lithuanian language is the language of the Union Republic. Many names, such as Istrutis (Insterburg), Velyau, Trapenen, Rachnit and others already appear during the campaigns of the Teutonic Order, with their names linked to the atrocities of the German aggressors of the Middle Ages. Some are known as names of localities that took an active part in the peasant uprising of 1525. A number of them are widely known in the territory of the present Kaliningrad region. Many of the localities are mentioned in Lithuanian folk songs. Some names [too] have a philological significance for studying the language of Prussian Lithuanians. ¹⁴

Indeed, so overwhelming was the presence of Lithuanian names in the former lands of East Prussia that Pakarklis also considered it feasible for the region to at some point be incorporated into the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic:

It is possible that over time, if not the entire Kaliningrad region, then a large part of it will be annexed to the Lithuanian SSR, as an area historically and geographically connected with the Lithuanian SSR. Especially connected to the Lithuanian SSR is that part of the Kaliningrad region called Prussia or Lithuania Minor, particularly those areas in which all adults from the local population can speak Lithuanian and the elderly people cannot even speak any German. ¹⁵

His solution to the renaming question was thus to keep the old Lithuanian names of settlements in the Kaliningrad region, adapting them to the Russian language ‘o...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half-Title
• Series
• Title
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• List of figures
• Preface
• Acknowledgements
• A note on Russian names and transliteration
• Introduction
• 1 The banner of the Soviet Union is now forever established
• 2 Kaliningrad has been transformed beyond recognition
• 3 Cataclysms or a political crisis
• 4 Words are articulated from afar
• Conclusion: Genes or the landscape?
• Bibliography
• Index