Tоска: The Unspeakable Melancholy of the Russian Soul

No doubt you’ve already encountered some difficulties when it comes to translating certain words. There are often similarities between certain languages and certain words. If two languages have common origins, then their roots can lead to the same meaning, respectively. This is often the case between Romance languages that share Latin sources, just as many words that sound alike in various Slavic languages are derived from the Indo-European group.

Cultural concepts difficult to transpose

In this way, some concepts may seem natural to a native speaker until a foreigner asks for the word’s definition. In French, Baudelaire’s “spleen” is difficult to explain without using some sort of ill-suited comparison. However, if a French person hears this concept, they will immediately gather a vivid image of what the word represents. Perhaps, then, the same phenomenon occurs with the Russian word «тоска».

Defining this word seems as difficult as defining love or any other abstract feeling. We can share the sensation, yet we are still lost; trying to formulate it in an intelligible way with a dictionary definition only exposes us to other people’s disagreements. Fortunately, however, Russian-speaking culture is intimately linked to this concept. And that’s why, if you’re passionate about language and culture, you should take an interest. 

A mentality: at the heart of Russian identity

To sum it up as sadness, nostalgia, or suffering would be to deny the word of its true meaning. For some, this word is at the heart of Russian identity, and some consider this emotion to be a pillar of their life experiences. It’s a feeling of depression and suffering that can’t be cured with a visit to the psychologist, nor is it a temporary sadness. It’s a state of mind that goes unchosen and from which it’s hard to break away. The lack of smiles in Eastern Europe can be seen as a link to this feeling, and while it is a cliché, it’s not always true. Smiles are reserved for sincerity, not simply the banality of everyday life.  

The Demon Seated (Russian: Демон сидящий) is an 1890 symbolist piece by Russian artist Mikhail Vrubel. It is said that it captures the feeling of « тоска »

The aesthetics of «тоска»

Baudelaire’s “spleen” can be taken similarly because it expresses a certain tiredness and a sort of pessimistic view of life by approaching nihilism and expected apathy. Though in Russian, «тоска» brings colour to life in a different way. It’s like an inexplicable shade of blue-grey, and it calls to the cloudy mornings when the mist doesn’t dissipate. It brings you to the places where you can barely distinguish the buildings from the incoming snow. And though it may not be the heavenly setting someone dreams of, it feels like home to many. A stereotype or otherwise, it will stay with you as you try to understand the concept.

Riga’s freedom monument (credit: https://www.breizh-info.com/)

All you have to do is walk through certain parts of Riga, not far from the central market, to get a taste of what this idea represents. The wooden buildings, eroded by time, are sometimes empty; all that remains are the fragments of a bygone era, often glistening in the twilight. 

A multidimensional emotion that goes beyond Western clichés

There are also musical representations of this, primarily with the Belarusian group Molchat Doma, who have a song entitled «тоска». Beyond the notes and lyrics, their album covers feature brutalist buildings reminiscent of post-Soviet republics. This aesthetic is tied to their post-punk melodies shared all over the world. On social media, their song “sudno” has become an anthem for these formerly communist regions.

But, of course, this is merely a superficial view of «тоска». Many Westerners can only envision this aesthetic at the surface level, which is precisely what Russian speakers repudiate. On social networks, native Russian speakers are taken aback by these viral renderings as they work to idealize a part of their identity without the validity of experience. Though challenging, trying to understand this sort of meaning is crucial for native Russian speakers and students alike. That’s why language begins in a different place than it ends, and I’m excited to see where that journey goes during my time in Riga.  

One of Riga’s Neighbourhoods Ziepniekkalns (credit: Serzhanja, for the website Life In Riga)

Raffaël, currently studying Russian at Liden & Denz Riga