Fate has a strange way of doing things sometimes. On March 5, 1953 (the same day I am writing this Letter), Sergei Prokofiev died, but so did Joseph Stalin. I imagine the story is well-known to music lovers, but a reminder doesn’t hurt, so we can understand the difference between a “leader acclaimed by the people” and a “composer beloved by the world.” Certainly, in this particular comparison, the leader triumphed over the composer, as very few learned that one of the greatest composers of the 20th century had died, given that on the same day, one of the most controversial figures (to say the least, as we say in plain Greek) of the same century passed away.

It is characteristic that because Prokofiev lived in one of the historic buildings next to Red Square, where thousands of people had gathered to bid farewell to Stalin during the four-day national mourning period, it was impossible to transport Prokofiev’s coffin in any other way than by carrying it by hand. And so it was done. Naturally, there was no mention of any kind of ceremony at the Union of Soviet Composers, while a characteristic example of Stalin’s omnipotence is the fact that Prokofiev’s death was mentioned on page 116 of the magazine “Sovetskaya Muzyka,” the most important music magazine in the USSR, with the first 115 pages of the magazine dedicated to Stalin. Ultimately, Prokofiev’s funeral, which took place with great difficulty, was attended by 50 friends and relatives. And that was many, considering the reality of the time and circumstances…

What united Prokofiev and Stalin, beyond everything else, were the persecutions he suffered based on Andrei Zhdanov’s report on music, presented in 1948 as part of a three-day conference. Similar reports and texts by Zhdanov for other arts had preceded this since 1946, and it was clear that music’s turn would come at some point. Of course, all this happened with Stalin’s blessing.

Prokofiev, along with Shostakovich, Khachaturian, Shebalin, Popov, and Myaskovsky, was accused of “formalism,” a charge so abstract that it could be used against any creator. Several of his musical works were banned, and the commissions Prokofiev received initially stopped and then were limited to only one or two. The following year, Prokofiev suffered a stroke, and five years after his condemnation by Zhdanov (essentially Stalin), Prokofiev died without ever seeing his entire body of work rehabilitated, as happened with composers who lived through later phases of the Soviet Union. That is, even the fact that he died on the same day as Stalin was absolutely ironic, preventing Prokofiev from feeling the full vindication he had sought for the previous five years.

Of course, in the global consciousness, we remember Prokofiev for his exquisite musical creations, while we commemorate Stalin for his monstrous crimes. At least in posthumous reputation, Prokofiev won… and thankfully, that’s how it happened.