He Kneaded the Dough: how Mikhail Gorbachev’s attempt to raise funds for his foundation through an ill-devised Pizza Hut commercial made him an enemy at home and a meme in the west — and what it can teach us about globalisation

**I should preface this essay by saying that, if you haven’t already, the commercial that I reference throughout is absolutely required viewing. I apologise in advance for the confusion that this bizarre monstrosity will inevitably cause, but it must be seen to be believed.**

It’s 1998. We open on dramatic shots of Moscow’s Red Square, internationally renowned for its beauty and majesty, as well as housing the neighbouring Kremlin — the seat of power in Russia. One would be forgiven for mistaking this opening for a soviet-era propaganda film — as snow blankets the cobbled plaza, no representation of Russia could more emphatically emphasise what the country is all about than the scene unfolding on the screen. As the camera darts to lively stings of marching band-like music, a certain curiosity is stirred in the viewer. No sooner is this feeling recognised than it suddenly exploding beyond all proportion. Sauntering calmly past a perplexed babushka is a man clutching a black umbrella in one hand, and the hand of a young girl in the other. The man’s face rings a bell, but the shots are cut together in too jerky a fashion to properly identify him — the pair turn to head inside as a trio of signs reading “Пицца Хат” heave into view, the domes of St Basil’s Cathedral gazing on from a distance. They post up by the window as we are treated to a couple appetizing shots of several generations of a family tucking into some pizza. The man has now removed his heavy overcoat and, most crucially, his hat. Surely not, you pause to think, as you study the rim of grey-ish white hair bordering that distinctive birthmark — “its Gorb-”. No sooner can the words leave your lips than the patriarch of the aforementioned family nods his head and heartily proclaims “It’s Gorbachev”, prompting the others to lift their heads from their food and swivel them in unison to catch a glimpse. ‘What alternate dimension have I fallen into?’ you inevitably ask yourself as you deliberate whether this is the work of a near-perfect lookalike or the world as we know it is just collapsing around us. The music turns slightly operatic as one of the world’s most prominent leaders gently serves his granddaughter a slice of pizza. This respite is short-lived — the young man swivels back around and immediately trades barbs with the father — the elder blames Gorbachev for issues ranging from the economy to general “complete chaos” while the younger praises him for the hope and freedom he has brought. Just as the whole scene appears to be on the verge of boiling over — the family’s own babushka interjects as the music reaches a triumphant crescendo, “Because of him we have many things…like Pizza Hut!”, she exclaims. The two men pause and give each other a reconciliatory grin. We transition into a wide shot as the father raises his slice of pizza like a champagne flute and declares “Hail to Gorbachev!”. The other patrons of the restaurant all rise to their feet and erupt into a chant of the same phrase — Gorbachev beams with joy as he reciprocates with a subtle wave and gazes at his granddaughter. We see some swooping close-ups of a piping hot pizza as the chant continues to ring in the background, becoming more and more sinister with every repetition. A few more iconic Moscow landmarks flash onto the screen before Pizza Hut offers a closing salvo: ‘Good Friends. Great Pizza.’

The whirlwind of emotions that this seemingly innocent 60 second piece of advertising evokes is nothing short of ground-breaking. Thankfully I have had the privilege (or lack thereof) of viewing this monstrosity several times and am therefore largely immune to its destabilising effects. What this essay will seek to do is examine what to make of this commercial as a cultural object — what it tells us about the east-west clash that it plays on and how well it translates between the two, examining this translation through the lens of globalisation.

A crucial element of determining how well this cultural object translates between the two cultures is determining whose object you treat it as. Pizza Hut is, after all, an American corporation — yet this particular campaign was crafted for the Russian market. In my view, this debate can be moulded into one as the dynamics appear to be two sides of the same coin.

Let’s say that we take it to be an American cultural object. Doing so makes it fairly clear that it translates very poorly. Context here is absolutely crucial. From just about the end of WWII to the 40 years that followed it — the ‘west’ and the ‘east’ were locked in a bitter ideological war. Branding it the Cold War was thankfully largely not a misnomer — temperatures ran extremely hot for the entirety of the conflict and the threat of global nuclear fallout seemed ever present. The ‘west’ and ‘east’ labels have come to generalise the two sides, who were really divided by conflicting loyalties to political/economic systems — capitalism and communism respectively. To be more accurate, the main players in this clash were America and the USSR. The world sat on the edge of their seats for over four decades as the two governments engaged in brinksmanship — a constant fear of all-out war breaking out hanging over them. This was however always somewhat of a David v. Goliath story — yes, the Soviet Union covered over 1/6 of the Earth’s land surface — but it paled in comparison when almost any other metric was evaluated. America was industrialising rapidly in the post-war era, they were becoming unprecedently wealthy, people enjoyed a high quality of life, and their cultural dominance over the globe was growing ever bigger. Those in the USSR in the meantime, were largely pitifully impoverished — whatever wealth the union had in natural resources was kept in and amongst the ruling central committee and other senior Communist party figures — what was keeping them in the game was the directing of much of these resources toward the construction of nuclear weapons and their commitment to a policy of mutually assured destruction — a ‘you nuke us, we nuke you’ approach that kept the Americans on their toes. As time progressed on from the end of WWII and the USSR cycled through several General Secretaries of the Communist Party (equivalent to the president), they generally trended away from the kill-all-enemies, dictatorial style of the infamous Joseph Stalin. The man most different from Stalin to hold the post stepped up in March of 1985 — that man? None other than Mikhail Gorbachev. He had loyalty to the Soviet state and its socialist ideals but felt that it was crying out for dramatic reform. In the wake of the Chernobyl Disaster of 1986, this need became more apparent than ever. He introduced his policy of glasnost (“openness”) which sought to enhance the freedom of speech and that of the press, as well as perestroika (“restructuring”), which pushed to decentralise decision making on economic issues, pushing the system subtly closer to capitalist ideals. He pulled the country out of wars and opened the doors to talks with the Americans. This began to pull down the Iron Curtain, a present-day North Korea-esque restriction on information, culture, and communication that had blocked the USSR off from the outside world for decades. These reforms precipitated the progressive collapse of union and its ultimate dissolution in December of 1991.

Gorbachev is therefore arguably one of the most divisive and controversial figures in the murky history of the USSR. As the union splintered into its constituent nations and they each began to rebuild, there was a fairly clear generational divide between the reforming younger generations and the conservative older generation. This divide extends to the perception of Gorbachev and is depicted in the commercial. This commercial was made in 1998, less than a decade removed from the union’s collapse. Large parts of the populace saw this collapse as deeply humiliating, and the fact that it was followed by several years of economic hardship meant that they bemoaned the fact that their country had gone from a dominant global power to an economically crippled wreck, with the streets and economy generally being ruled by organised crime — most were quick to pin the blame for this deterioration onto Gorbachev. The youth of the nation revelled in their newfound freedom: those that could afford it left the confines of their borders for the first time and many experienced cultures and foods they knew nothing about. The appetite for these experiences is no better illustrated than by the fact that, when the first McDonald’s opened in Moscow’s Pushkinskaya Square in early 1990 — the line stretched for several kilometres. People who were used to queuing in the cold for the chance to buy a stale loaf of bread were suddenly exposed to the warming glow of the golden arches and the American hamburger.

So, if we read this as an American cultural object then it evokes feelings of a power play — taking one of Russia/USSR’s most prominent leaders and essentially poking fun at their collapse as a superpower — it is almost reminiscent of using a defecting spy’s information to toy with the psyche of your enemy.

The very existence of the commercial speaks to the power of globalisation — American fast food appeared on the streets of Russia’s capital at almost the very instant that the opportunity became available — its proliferation in the years building up to this commercial suggests that even the most culturally closed off of people come to embrace key tenants of Western culture and become homogenised in doing so. Yet in this particular case and context it appears as though it has been taken a step too far — the antagonistic nature of the nation’s relations is still very much present, they are warmer than before but that is comparing it to a very low bar, and the feelings stemming from the ideological conflict are still very raw.

For Pizza Hut the benefit is obvious — the reception of this commercial falls quite firmly into the “no such thing as bad publicity” school of thought. It didn’t enjoy much popularity in its target market, but it got people talking about their brand. For Gorbachev however, it’s all considerably murkier. He has stated in years since that he agreed to star in the commercial in order to raise money for his foundation, with reports suggesting he was paid upwards of $1m ($2m in 2020) for his appearance — stipulating, to the disappointment of those that orchestrated the campaign, that he would not be seen eating the pizza. He has also gone on to say that he regrets having taken up the role, having seen the pandemonium that followed in its wake.

The decision undoubtedly is misguided. Yes, Gorbachev is known as a reformer and the man who began to trickle western ideals into Russian society but this imagery views far too heavily like him giving the American flag a big, wet, sloppy kiss. If you’re a Russian you may well like or dislike certain leaders, and even if the nation may generally be opening their minds to new values — seeing one of your most prominent figureheads embracing the embodiment of an ideology that your country pushed the world to brink of destruction to oppose — feels like a slap in the face and a betrayal. For them, they are having a huge flag that reads ‘capitalism won’ being waved in their face — and the flag-bearer is the man that many believe allowed it to do so. It really comes down to a case of it being “too soon”. The twisted, comical, Americanised feel of the commercial feels like a knife in the back and probably explains why Pizza Hut left the country later that year.

Interpreting it as a Russian cultural object requires a substantial serving of generosity as the commercial is made with very tongue-in-cheek undertones but is conceivable as it was designed for the Russian market. Doing so means that it actually translates very well — for the same reasons just with different/opposite connotations. For Americans this feels like they are getting one over on their sworn enemies. They are rubbing salt in the wounds of the humiliation that many Russians feel. In fact, the campaign enjoyed a decent measure of virality in the US as viewers grappled with awkward mix of amusement and bemusement that befalls anyone who stumbles upon it, and continues to occasionally resurface, although packing less of a politically loaded punch than it did back then. It featuring Gorbachev was a delight as opposed to a slap in the face — emphasising the superior popularity he enjoyed outside of Russia as compared to within it — the architect of communism’s collapse seen as a badge of honour rather than a mark of shame.