However, shortly before the pavilion was completed, the Prague Spring of 1968 broke out. The attempt by the new Czechoslovak government to establish “socialism with a human face” resulted in an uprising which was quickly suppressed by the armies of the Warsaw Pact. In the aftermath, most liberalisation processes in socialist countries were frozen, and the contradictions between the West and the Eastern Bloc, isolated behind the Iron Curtain, were reaffirmed. Political changes were followed by assaults on the “International Style” that held sway over Soviet architecture at the time. This style shared the same functionalist base models as the Modern movement in Europe and promoted openness, transparency and lightness. But with these very qualities suddenly under attack, the architectural Iron Curtain was drawn shut along with the political. Designers now headed for monumentalism.

The architecture of VDNKh, as it was then customary to say, “grew out of date even before completion.” All of the pavilion’s faults were suddenly laid bare: its unfortunate placement, the lack of territorial reserves for expansion, technical imperfections (overheating in the summer and freezing in the winter) caused by the excess of glass. Its lofty first description – the “Crystal Palace” – was replaced by the mocking sobriquet “Aquarium”, transforming visitors from excited guests into decorative fishes. Architectural vales had shifted: in distancing itself from the models of the 1960s, Soviet Modernism had reinforced its image as an official state style, thus undermining its chances of garnering appreciation in the future.

The architectural gesture was one of both great expanse and expense

Today, those who criticised the International Style in their earlier years wield significant influence over architectural practice in the city. While their overall design methodology is unchanged since the Soviet period, they have shifted the emphasis from function to form. The main aim of architectural professionals is now a unique and beautiful image, rather than a construction with a specific purpose. As the years have passed, this idea of architecture as art has only grown stronger. One of the representatives of the architectural elite in Lukashenko-era Minsk is Oleg Vorobyev, who was happy to present his winning design for the Emirati-built hotel complex that will replace VDNKh. Others from the same generation teach in Minsk’s Architecture Faculty, the main forge for architects in the country. Praising “diversity” as opposed to the supposed “monotonousness” and “simplicity” of the functional architecture of the 1960s, they inculcate hatred for the Modernist heritage. Even Yuri Gradov, the only surviving author of the building and currently a professor of design, speaks of his own work in a resigned tone: “I react quietly to the possibility of the disappearance of the pavilion. The city is growing; its needs are changing.”

Perhaps ironically, such an attitude towards VDNKh is in essence ideologically “correct”. Pure Modernism was not sentimental; movement lay at its source, and the idea of conservation was alien to it. It was ready to pay the price in order to smash apart the past. This was dry, honest, risky architecture; not one that demanded or expected tears of contrition.