What Was The Socialist Kiss?

Q: What Was The Socialist Kiss?

The fraternal greeting of Cold War communism — typically three kisses on alternate cheeks with a bear hug — staged as political theatre, most famously by Brezhnev and Honecker in 1979, later immortalised on the Berlin Wall.

“The traditions of the dead weigh on the living like a nightmare”
Karl Marx

To understand the Socialist Kiss, we must first journey back to the very dawn of the Soviet Union.

The Bolsheviks, having seized power in 1917, were not merely content with overthrowing the old order; they sought to forge an entirely new world, populated by a new kind of human being: the New Socialist Man.

This was to be an individual utterly transformed, purged of the selfishness and bourgeois individualism of the past. The New Socialist Man was a collectivist, his every thought and action dedicated to the greater good of the state.

He was to be, in the words of the Bolsheviks’ propaganda, “selfless, learned, healthy, muscular, and enthusiastic in spreading the communist Revolution.”

This ambitious project of social engineering was, in essence, an attempt to remould human nature itself.

The Soviet state employed every tool at its disposal to achieve this goal, from education and youth movements to art, literature, and relentless propaganda.

The ideal of the New Socialist Man was a powerful one, a vision of a future free from the perceived decadence and exploitation of the capitalist West. It was a utopian dream, but one with a dark underbelly. The creation of this new man necessitated the suppression of all that was deemed ‘old’ and ‘counter-revolutionary’.

Individuality, dissent, and any form of personal loyalty that might supersede one’s devotion to the state were ruthlessly stamped out.

The creation of the ‘New Socialist Man’ would also require a new kind of leader, a figure who could embody the virtues of this new age. This new Socialist leader was not to be a remote, god-like figure like the Tsar, but a father to his people, a comrade amongst comrades.

He was to be a man of action and a man of the people, a leader who could inspire both awe and affection. This carefully constructed image was central to the cults of personality that grew up around figures like Lenin and, most notoriously, Stalin.

It was in this context, in this world of manufactured intimacy and revolutionary fervour, that the Socialist Kiss was born.

The Socialist Kiss

“The exaggerated intimacy of the gesture is a form of political bonding. In a world of mistrust and conspiracy, this intense physical contact serves as a public declaration of trust and submission to the dominant partner, in this case, the Soviet Union.”
Desmond Morris, zoologist and author of The Naked Ape

The Socialist Fraternal Kiss, a gesture that would become a defining symbol of Cold War-era communism, has its roots in a surprisingly diverse range of traditions.

It is, in part, a secularised version of the ‘Easter kiss of peace’ from the Russian Orthodox Church, a ritual that symbolised community and fellowship. This Christian tradition was blended with the European courtly custom of a formal greeting kiss, creating a gesture that was at once both deeply traditional and radically new.

In the early days of the Soviet Union, it emerged as a spontaneous expression of revolutionary solidarity, a way for comrades to signal their shared commitment to the cause.

Early photographs from the 1930s show a tentative adoption of the practice. In 1936, the celebrated Soviet pilot Valery Chkalov leaned in to kiss a somewhat hesitant-looking Josef Stalin.

By the next year, Stalin seemed more accustomed to the gesture, actively participating in a kiss with another heroic pilot, Vasily Molokov, in 1937. These early instances were often used to honour individuals for heroic service to the state, framing the leader as a fatherly figure bestowing praise.

This performance of intense male intimacy presents a startling paradox when set against the official Soviet stance on sexuality. While the early Bolsheviks had decriminalised homosexuality in 1917, abolishing all Tsarist-era laws, this period of tolerance was brutally short-lived.

Under Josef Stalin’s rule, homosexuality was recriminalised in 1934 under Article 121 of the Soviet criminal code. From then until its repeal in 1993, male homosexuality was officially branded a criminal offence, punishable by up to five years of hard labour.

State propaganda relentlessly portrayed it as a “fascist perversion” or a product of “bourgeois decadence,” a contagion from the morally bankrupt West. In this rigidly controlled environment, where the KGB actively used accusations of homosexuality to blackmail and destroy political opponents, the sight of two leaders kissing so passionately was a profound contradiction.

The ‘kiss’ was a key part of public celebrations, especially during the height of the Space Race. In 1962, Nikita Khrushchev was famously photographed greeting Soviet cosmonauts with enthusiastic fraternal kisses upon their return to Earth.

This gesture served to elevate the cosmonauts as true ‘New Socialist Men’ and symbolised the deep paternal pride of the state in their world-conquering achievements.

Over time, however, this spontaneous gesture became a highly ritualised and politically charged act. The standard form was a series of three kisses on alternate cheeks, often accompanied by a bear hug.

But the intensity and nature of the kiss could vary significantly, and Kremlinologists in the West would closely scrutinise these greetings for clues about the state of relations between different communist states. A warm, enthusiastic kiss might signal a strong alliance, while a cool, formal peck could suggest a growing rift.

One of the most powerful uses of the fraternal kiss was its pointed refusal. After the political split between the USSR and China, the gesture became a clear diplomatic line in the sand. When Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev visited Beijing in 1959, he attempted to embrace Chinese Communist Party Chairman Mao Zedong. Mao, however, deliberately stepped back and offered a simple handshake instead, a clear visual snub that underscored the deep ideological rift between the two communist powers. Chinese officials pointedly refused to embrace their Soviet counterparts from then on, a policy that continued even after relations were normalised in 1989.

The most famous and, indeed, the most infamous example of the Socialist Fraternal Kiss occurred on October 5th 1979, during the 30th-anniversary celebrations of the German Democratic Republic. Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev and East German President Erich Honecker, two of the most powerful men in the Eastern Bloc, greeted each other with a kiss of such apparent passion that it was captured by the French photographer Régis Bossu in an image that would become iconic.

Dubbed simply ‘The Kiss’ or, more ominously, ‘The Kiss of Death’; the photograph was a sensation, appearing in newspapers and magazines around the world.

It was a moment that seemed to perfectly encapsulate the strange, theatrical nature of Cold War politics.

Beyond Honecker, Leonid Brezhnev was frequently photographed kissing other Soviet bloc figures, including a 1975 embrace with Nikolai Podgorny, the Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet, and a 1980 kiss with his trusted ally and future General Secretary Konstantin Chernenko.

Brezhnev’s liberal use of the gesture reinforced the idea that Moscow was the unshakeable centre of the socialist world and that loyalty was expressed through this performance of personal affection.

For many in the West, the image was deeply unsettling, a symbol of the unnatural and even perverse nature of the communist world. It was seen as a violation of personal space, a grotesque parody of genuine affection. In the Eastern Bloc, however, the kiss was portrayed as a powerful symbol of the unbreakable bond between the Soviet Union and its satellite states. It was a gesture of fealty, a public declaration that the GDR remained firmly within the Soviet orbit.

The tradition continued right into the final years of the Soviet Union.

When Mikhail Gorbachev visited East Germany in 1986 for a state visit, he was greeted on the tarmac by Erich Honecker with the customary tight embrace and kisses.

This encounter is now viewed with historical irony. Just three years later, Gorbachev’s reforms in the Soviet Union would directly lead to the collapse of the Berlin Wall and the end of Honecker’s rule, proving that even the most passionate-looking fraternal kiss could not halt the march of history.

The story of ‘The Kiss’, however, did not end with the fall of the Berlin Wall.

In 1990, the Soviet artist Dmitri Vrubel recreated the iconic image on a remaining section of the Wall, adding the ironic caption: “My God, help me to survive this deadly love.” Vrubel’s mural became one of the most famous pieces of street art in the world, a powerful symbol of the end of the Cold War and a darkly humorous commentary on the nature of totalitarianism.

Interestingly, the Socialist Fraternal Kiss did not entirely disappear with the collapse of the Soviet Union. In a modified form, often without the kiss itself, it continues to be used by some communist leaders, particularly in Asia.

The gesture is a subtle but significant nod to a shared ideological past, a reminder that the legacy of the Cold War is not as distant as it might sometimes seem.

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Memetic Warfare & The Kiss

“Q: What is a Soviet triptych? A: The three kisses of Comrade Brezhnev on the lips of a visiting dignitary.”
Soviet-era joke

The journey of the Socialist Fraternal Kiss from a choreographed Cold War ritual to a 21st-century internet meme is a curious tale of political appropriation and artistic subversion.

The pivotal moment in this transformation was Dmitri Vrubel’s 1990 mural on the Berlin Wall. By rendering the passionate embrace of Brezhnev and Honecker in vibrant, larger-than-life detail, Vrubel took a symbol of oppressive conformity and turned it into a piece of public art, forever open to interpretation. His ironic title perfectly captured the image’s inherent absurdity and injected a potent dose of dark humour. This act of artistic defiance set the stage for the image’s second life.

In the age of social media, the Brezhnev-Honecker kiss became a powerful and endlessly adaptable meme.

Its combination of shocking intimacy and political symbolism made it the perfect template for what has been termed ‘memetic warfare’: the use of viral images to critique, satirise, and undermine political figures and ideologies.

Perhaps the most famous reimagining appeared in May 2016, on the side of a barbecue restaurant in Vilnius, Lithuania.

A mural by local artist Mindaugas Bonanu depicted the then-US presidential candidate Donald Trump locked in a passionate embrace with Russian President Vladimir Putin. The piece was titled “Make Everything Great Again.” For a nation with a long and painful history of Soviet domination, the mural was more than just a joke; it was a stark warning. The restaurant’s co-owner, Dominykas Čečkauskas, stated, “We saw similarities between the two heroes (Trump and Putin)…They both have an ego that is too big.” The image captured a widespread anxiety in the Baltic states about a potential alliance between two powerful leaders, both of whom seemed to hold a disdain for the established international order.

Just a few days later, a similar image appeared on a derelict building in Bristol, UK.

This time, Trump was shown kissing one of the leading figures of the Brexit campaign, Boris Johnson.

The work was created by the artist group Paintsmiths and commissioned by the pro-EU campaign group We Are Europe. Dubbed “The Kiss of Death,” the mural was a direct appeal to younger voters, urging them to register for the upcoming EU referendum. It was a satirical commentary on the burgeoning political relationship between the two men, suggesting their brand of right-wing populism was a toxic and dangerous combination.

There is a profound irony in this evolution.

A gesture designed to demonstrate the unbreakable, monolithic solidarity of the socialist world has been completely inverted. In its new life as a capitalist meme, the kiss is used to signify an unholy alliance, a corrupt bargain, or a dangerously sycophantic relationship between leaders on the nationalist right. It has become a universal shorthand for a political intimacy that is not fraternal and loving, but secretive, treacherous, and worthy of public ridicule.

The journey of the Socialist Fraternal Kiss, from the cold corridors of the Kremlin to the irony-soaked annals of the internet, is a perfect illustration of how the meaning of symbols can be transformed and redeployed in the endless, irreverent battlefield of cultural politics.

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Conclusion

“Our leaders… would embrace each other with an almost feminine tenderness in front of the cameras. This display was meant to be a symbol of our unbreakable unity, yet behind the scenes, there were whispers and knives.”
Yevgeny Yevtushenko, Soviet poet, in his memoir A Precocious Autobiography

The Socialist Kiss, in all its various forms, is a fascinating and revealing piece of political theatre.

It is a gesture that speaks volumes about the nature of power, the construction of ideology, and the strange, often contradictory, ways in which human beings express their allegiances.

From its origins in the heady days of the Russian Revolution to its immortalisation on the Berlin Wall, the kiss has been a symbol of both unity and oppression, of revolutionary fervour and political expediency. It is a reminder that even the most seemingly intimate of gestures can be loaded with political meaning, and that the legacy of the Cold War continues to shape our world in ways we are only just beginning to understand.

Bibliography

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Montefiore, S. S. (2007). Young Stalin. Weidenfeld & Nicolson.
Remnick, D. (1994). Lenin’s Tomb: The Last Days of the Soviet Empire. Vintage.