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TheShanghai Russians, a sizable part of theRussian diaspora, flourished inShanghai,China, between theWorld Wars. By 1937 an estimated up to 25,000 Russians lived in the city; they formed the largest European group there by far.[1] Most of them had come from theRussian Far East, where, withthe support of the Japanese, theWhites had maintained a presence as late as the autumn of 1922.
In the late 19th century, the Russian imperial government was shifting the focus of its investment tonortheast China. It developed theChinese Eastern Railway first inHeilongjiang linkingHarbin toVladivostok, and later toPort Arthur on theLiaodong Peninsula. As a consequence, China's trade with its northern neighbour soared. As soon as there was a regular ferry service betweenVladivostok and Shanghai, the Russian tea merchants started to settle in the commercial capital of China. About 350 Russian citizens resided within theShanghai International Settlement in 1905. In order to protect their interests, theRussian consulate was opened in 1896. The old building of the consulate, still occupied by the Russian diplomats, ranks amongthe Bund's minor landmarks.
The bulk of the Russian exile community relocated to Shanghai from Vladivostok following the fall of theProvisional Priamurye Government at the close of theRussian Civil War. AdmiralOskar Victorovich Stark's squadron alone brought several thousandWhite Russians from Vladivostok in 1922. ManyHarbin Russians, attracted by the booming economy of Shanghai, moved to theShanghai International Settlement over the following years. Barred by both distance and money from joining established communities inParis andBerlin, a large number gravitated towards Shanghai, a freeport at the time, requiring no visa or work-permit for entry. For this same reason it was later to become arefuge for Jews fleeing the Nazis.
Although free, and relatively secure, conditions for the émigrés were far from ideal. For one thing they were all stateless, as the Soviet government had revoked the citizenship of all political exiles in 1921. The only travel document most of them had was theNansen passport, issued by theLeague of Nations. Unlike other foreigners inChina they did not have the benefits conferred byextraterritoriality, which granted immunity from local laws. If arrested, they would be tried under Chinese law.[2]
This was made worse by the barriers to employment opportunities, which in this international city required a good command of English or French as a minimum requirement. There were whole families that depended on wives or daughters who made a living astaxi dancers (hired dancing partners). A survey by the League of Nations in 1935 reportedly found that some 22% of Shanghai Russian women between 16 and 45 years of age were engaging inprostitution to some extent.[3]
Some did find professional work, teaching music or French. Other women took work as dressmakers, shop assistants and hairdressers. Many men became career soldiers of theShanghai Russian Regiment, the only professional/standing unit within theShanghai Volunteer Corps.[4] By slow degrees, and despite the many difficulties, the community not only retained a good deal of cohesion but did begin to flourish, both economically and culturally. By the mid-1930s there were two Russian schools, as well as a variety of cultural and sporting clubs. There were Russian-language newspapers and a radio station. An important part was also played by the localRussian Orthodox Church under the guidance of St.John of Shanghai and San Francisco.
Many exiles set up restaurants in the district known asLittle Russia (around the Avenue Joffre, nowMiddle Huaihai Road, in theFrench Concession), contributing to the development of the local Western-styleHaipai cuisine. Russian musicians (such asOleg Lundstrem) achieved a dominance over the city's foreign-run orchestra. The most famous Russian singer,Alexander Vertinsky, relocated from Paris to Shanghai; andFyodor Chaliapin was seen on tour.Vladimir Tretchikoff, the "King of Kitsch", spent his youth in the city. Russian teachers offered lessons in theatre and dancing.Margot Fonteyn, the English ballerina, studied dance in Shanghai as a child with Russian masters, one of whom,George Gontcharov, had formerly danced with theBolshoi inMoscow.[2]
But it was the contribution that Russian women made to the entertainment industry, dancing and otherwise, that gave the city its exotic reputation, noted in the guidebooks of the day.[citation needed] A fictionalized portrayal of their predicament is presented in theJames Ivory filmThe White Countess (2005).
The Japanese formed a bureau for the Russian emigrees; it provided identification papers necessary to live, work and travel. The Shanghai Russians were left to choose between a Soviet citizenship or to remain stateless by support of the bureau. The stateless Russians were officially favoured by the regime, but in reality, they were not trusted and were exposed to a great risk of being arrested as spies for the Soviet Union. They were also often enlisted in the army for work along the border with the Soviet Union. After 1941, whenNazi Germanyinvaded the Soviet Union, they were in an even more sensitive situation. To separate the anti-Soviet Russians from the Soviet Russians, the former were ordered to wear a badge with the colours of the Czar — later a white numbered disk of aluminium.
The Shanghai Russians survived through the difficult days of the Japanese occupation,[2] but left in the end with the advance of the Communists. They were forced to flee, first to arefugee camp on the island ofTubabao in thePhilippines and then mainly to theUnited States andAustralia; however, many settled inHong Kong. The Russian monuments of Shanghai did not escape the ravages of theCultural Revolution. ThePushkin statue, funded by public subscription and unveiled on the centenary of the poet's death, was smashed by theRed Guards in 1966. It was subsequently restored in 1987. The OrthodoxChurch of St. Nicholas, consecrated and elaborately frescoed in 1933, was converted into awashing machine factory, and subsequently a restaurant. The municipal government terminated the lease of the cathedral to the restaurant in 2004. The building became a bookshop in 2019.[5]
In the 1967 British filmA Countess from Hong Kong, written and directed byCharlie Chaplin,Sophia Loren plays the only child of Russian aristocrats who escaped, during the Russian Revolution, to Shanghai, where she subsequently was born. Her parents died there when she was thirteen; she was the mistress of a gangster at fourteen. Asked how she has come to live in Hong Kong, she replies, "Well, there was another war, another revolution — so here we are."
