The ways of the Russian intelligentsia

Those of our neighbors who were not bred on the old imperial leaven are saying that the Maidan is an acid test for the Russian intelligentsia. The people who usually think and write in a democratic vein become totalitarian-thinking and monarchic-minded at the moment of a “danger to the Fatherland.” Here is a fragment of what Maria Snegovaya says about this on her Facebook page:

“A suddenly very pro-Kremlin Venediktov; Bykov’s fresh obnoxious article that shows an imperial and paternalistic attitude to Ukraine and absence of even minimal knowledge of history (‘Ukraine has never been Europe’ – and what about Austro-Hungary!?); Tatiana Tolstaya, a longtime ‘system liberal’ (right in her ancestors’ footsteps). The same applies to Yevgeny Yasin, Aleksei German Jr. …”

It is in no way the only instance of undisguised perplexity about a social stratum that is called intelligentsia in Russia only – people who earn their living by intellectual work. In other languages, it is “intellectual,” “egghead” (informal), “creative person,” or “thinking personality.” Let me explain the semantic difference between the Western and Eastern interpretations of this notion. You cannot possibly be an intellectual unless you share the cultural values of civilization, as well as you cannot become a scientist unless you acquire basic knowledge in natural sciences. But you can well be an intelligent (intellectual, Russian style) even without this. For example, the odious writer Aleksandr Prokhanov belongs to the intelligentsia, but he cannot be called intellectual because he airs obsolete communist views.

For this very reason, I would not pay too much attention to various attitudes to Ukrainian protests. The events on Kyiv’s central square have hit the headlines worldwide, and many past-it satirists, actors, politicians, and authors have seized this opportunity to plug themselves. For instance, Eduard Limonov has told us, with his trademark ardor, the things that one usually tries to hide.

“I am longtime avowed enemy of the authorities,” Limonov says in his blog. “As far as foreign policy is concerned, I think the authorities are insufficiently independent and aggressive – they are in fact pliable. As far as the domestic policy is concerned, the authorities side with the superrich, while we, a collective of people, need people-oriented socialism, not oligarchic, capitalism. I am an enemy of the authorities, but I am a patriot of my Fatherland. As I am its patriot, I think the Maidan is crawling with enemies, hobos, and white-ribbon Ukrainians” (http://limonov-eduard. livejournal.com/406512.html).

Limonov’s revelation is an old malady of the “Russian thought” divided into the Western and Slavic, own and alien, branches irrespective of the content. A person who was in prison for his or her views yearns for a tougher policy towards dissent. It is a paradox – but for the Russian mindset.

Let us recall the exiled Alexander Pushkin exclaiming:

The glorious hour I will sing

When o’er the Caucasus,

grown wrathful,

Our double-headed eagle winged,

Anticipating bloody battle…

And the Russian poet Nikolai Nekrasov, editor of the journal Sovremennik closed by the authorities and a friend of the revolutionary Nikolai Chernyshevsky who was arrested for freethinking, wrote a eulogy for Muravyov the Hanger, the butcher of the Polish uprising, for which even the court generals would not shake hands with him. There are a lot of such paradoxes among the Russian “regents of dreams.” For example, the richest prisoner of conscience, supposedly the personal and ideological opponent of Vladimir Putin, recently flitted out of his cage. But still, after so many years of suffering in prison, he proclaimed almost the same that Limonov did: the state is an enemy, but the Fatherland is dearer. There is a unique feature in the character of a “Russian intellectual:” even free of police repressions, he still longs for birch juices as well as rods in a comfortable country that has given him refuge – which is not always clear to us, Ukrainians, who do not wish to defend a territory of torments.

In all probability, the proverbial division of the Russian thinking class into supporters of the Western and the Slavophil ideas is not so simple. What shapes the orientation in this case is not only intellect and feelings, but also the ability to perceive the world culture as one of your own. Not all, even relatives, can succeed in this. In the well-known family of writers and filmmakers Mikhalkov, the brothers Nikita and Andrei have an entirely different idea of Russia’s present-day situation. One is terrified at what is going on, the other openly supports despotism, but both of them are concerned about their country’s destiny. What explains this is cultural identity: Andrei (Andron) and Nikita associate themselves with international and Russian cinema, respectively. Their works show this. Andrei focuses on man’s inner world, while Nikita is interested in epochal and historically bombastic scenes. This is the crux of the matter. Lermontov’s “unwashed Russia” and Blok’s “impoverished Russia” is the poets’ emotional reaction to the life of ordinary people in lawlessness and poverty. The great Russia of Derzhavin, Tiutchev, et al, is the pride of its subjects and a toast to the Fatherland’s gains. The state and man are equivalent values for imperial mentality, where the seeds of admiration for a strong government always germinate better than the sprouts of love for people.

The outstanding dissident writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn, who lived in the US for many years, dwelt on tyranny in almost all his works. The Russian-American writer Vladimir Nabokov devoted not so many lines to this problem, but his Tyrants Destroyed allows one to understand the nature of despotism better than Solzhenitsyn’s works do. The same applies to Autumn of the Patriarch by the Colombian writer Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The point is in different philosophical platforms of perception – a biased and very personal view is usually clearer and closer to people in the US and Europe than a historical fictional epic is for a national readership. This is why the clout of their works was very different. As the USSR collapsed, interest in Solzhenitsyn flagged, while Marquez and Nabokov are still read in all countries.

I mean that comments on the Maidan are most likely to be negative irrespective of the commentator’s personality. Whenever an individual rises above the state, empires vanish, and, hence, the status quo of present-day Russia envisages negation of the humanitarian ideas that caused people to take to Kyiv’s streets. Let it be secret services’ operations, NATO mercenaries, and the Banderaites who have come out of the woods, but not the feeling of dignity or a desire for freedom, for they are destructive for a federation in which one nation holds sway.

There is another important aspect in Russia’s cool attitude to the Maidan. The authorities and the people of Russia assigned long ago – I do not know which of them to greater extent – a social task to their writers and artists. In it, the Russian spirit must always suppress the foreign one or at least look better. What is on the outskirts – Estonian, Tatar, or Ukrainian – must never be better than the “true Russian things” – from butter to social reforms. For this reason, many artists who do not support the regime are supporting the trend. As it is not advised to publicly condemn the blacks in the US, so the Russian media take a dim view of complimenting the neighbors. So there is nothing surprising in the position of writer Mikhail Weller, a critic of Putin’s Russia, who, when asked about his attitude to the Maidan, spoke about Yulia Tymoshenko only. The ultimate reason for either cursing or praising Ms. Tymoshenko is that both things are to the benefit of Russia, whereas welcoming the Maidan will not raise the print run.

Let us not forget that the unity of brawn and brain is a centuries-old tradition in Russia. When George Byron fought, weapons in hand, together with Greek insurgents, against the Holy Alliance of Russia, Prussia, and Austria, Pushkin admired him, as he did the conquerors of the Caucasus. For Byron posed no threat to Russia.

I would not say that the current attitude of the fraternal intelligentsia to what is going on in the minds of Ukrainians is unusual or unpredictable. A lot of ideas crop up on the Russian intellectual field, but they are cut down with the same lawnmower. And if we try to scrutiny each of the sprouts, we’d better take the advice of Robert Kennedy who said that what is dangerous about extremists is not that they are extreme, but that they are intolerant. The power and temperament of arguments in defense of your position and malice towards your opponent are different things. The latter betrays the one who is wrong.