The luck of the lack of freedom
on 150 years ago, 19 February 1861, was abolished in Russia serfdom. A memorable date in many respects - but above all, because too many Russians and Russians are still of that time - consciously or unconsciously - to regret.
And not just (or not only) because it is still quite like to have a few or a few hundred slaves would (be honest: Who dreams of us do not like this, especially when the alarm clock shrieks at seven), but - the paradox - because they themselves want to be serfs.
by Anton Chekhov, whose father was not born a slave, is the famous quote that he had "the slave dripping" squeezed off. A tedious, painful work ...
the liberal Tsar Alexander II, who has 1861, the abolition of slavery and vile ventured several other reforms blew up, the grateful countrymen 20 years later, in the air. Children of the terrorists crashed 1917 Tsarism - a modern, "socialist" slavery in the Russian Empire produce. People could not be bought and sold, they were still without rights:
In the famous Soviet kolkhoz farmers, domestic passports taken away, lest they flee to the cities. Similarly, the enslaved were military personnel, enslaved in their own way, had the workers and engineers of the many arms factories feel ... All together they made a lot more than half the national population. A specific population group formed - especially in the several decades of Stalin's era - the prisoners and the prison guards. Could be because of the feel in this list missing the rest of the population is free?
therefore not surprising that so many citizens of the "post-Soviet" Russia have significant symptoms of the phenomenon that Erich Fromm called "Escape from Freedom" - and that in the most vulgar and most desolate form? Before the open society, which is another European thinker, Karl Popper, designed to be a desirable model for the future, terrified the Russians back almost to the opening under Gorby has shown - in the stifling stagnation cell in which you need to risk anything.
So many theorists describe such societies does nice "children" societies in which the "children" merely good, and should listen to Dad, who will care even for the well being of the "children". The well-known Russian film director Nikita Mikhalkov (Academy Award for "The sun, which deceived us"), Urururenkel wealthy aristocrats, which once had thousands of slaves, can be happy today about the "harmony" of the prevailing conditions in which the peasants perceived their landlords with gratitude and awe as quasi-parents. The paradox: in today's Russian society, he need have no fear, as a reactionary or simply occur as a fool. Almost all polls show
in Russia today, that most citizens of the giant empire today, on the 2nd Decade of the 21st Century, the Soviet Union's Brezhnev times - rated as the golden era of their own story - this easy and relatively bloodless flegmatische era of Soviet servitude. Stalin and now a majority is a thousand times rather than Gorby and Yeltsin. Are these people just "children" - or simply slaves in their heads?
is real impressive, and surprisingly the huge interest the story in today's Russia. The talk shows always turn to Lenin, Stalin, Brezhnev, Gorbachev and Yeltsin, now and then to Khrushchev and Andropov. No, a "past" in the German sense of the word is not. The whole country just seems to move forward with the view to the rear. Or is it progressing forward in reality not at all? Correct: It is more likely on the spot, turning in circles and longs for being old Day. Since no help mantras and modernization, etc., which are now heard from the Kremlin ...
Today, Russia has no convincing future project - hence the interest is for the past. Who will have the Kremlin's tear solution from the stool, Russia's GDP "should be doubled by 2020"?
No, it's true but not entirely. Some possible objectives are to Russia see the horizon already: the 2014 Winter Olympics and the football World Cup 2018th
However, this reminds of the old Soviet joke. The early 60's Khrushchev had known, announced in 1980 the Soviet Union will live under communism. 1964 Khrushchev became the Rose Breeding sent to his dacha. Brezhnev came to power. And in 1980 it was said: Communism is indeed 1980 but do not worry - we have but the Olympics in Moscow!
As the attentive reader has probably noticed de.rian.ru long ago if it is under the comments in the "Opinions" section on this website: "The opinion of the author does not have to agree with those of RIA Novosti." I do not know what is "the opinion of RIA Novosti" on the subject. And I confirm: with my opinion, it must not match.
you soon.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Why Does My Pinky Toe Hurt
they say if i keep on watching those violent movies, a might turn out to be a criminal one day
A few hours ago I came back from his grandmother. We played cards for three, went on trips and talk about politics. The grandfather is a heap of misery, has the last two weeks, the pain refused to leave the house. We took him between us and dragged him for coffee. A piece of strawberry cake, he has got, but now the taste yet, he says, strawberries can be eaten only if it is precisely the time for it. When the others are away, he shows me where it is bleeding, his skin is constantly sore that it hurts to breathe still. The grandmother is more relaxed than they were a couple of weeks around him and takes care of his every move. Some Days, she says, is he not, in others it has already attracted the pants alone when I come.
the day before I drove off, I met C of Greifswald, which I had for five / six years (yes, I believe, something like that) not seen. She fell immediately out of the myth of Greifswald, which had hardened with me over the years of absence and has become a geographical embodiment of a standstill. Of course, to move the things we do not monitor, never. At least not in our head. It was always
ambbivalente memories of this city. On the one hand, it was a formative time of music, in the many good things happened, on the other hand, I am with the feeling the run away and then looked back with a hard gaze, which should kill the ghosts.
We were with a boy of that time at an art opening and met by chance another Greifswald Erin. She worked there came up to us, did advertising and we were talking at breakneck speed put us finally on the move between the images through and gasping for champagne glasses in passing. Every two, for the others who had already some, but does not matter. The program was constantly interrupted by friends of hers, whom she kissed the cheeks, walked away and waved, holding her fingers to his ear to say: we call! She talked with the typical Livened nature, bring with them such jobs. Her gaze sweeps the room, the back there is an actor? I think so, not have to watch, I know the face, one day there was my intern, now he has his own gallery next door. The student comes to us, one of those very large, always smiling, handsome men, whose remarks are too smooth, as if that will take them seriously. When asked about his success, he says: It has character and therefore it is still employed. I however have none. This is the reason. I am a boot-licker.
When they sheer excited feelings or the champagne poured into the cut, I went back to the other two and we were sitting on stairs and turned cold cigarettes as before. I remembered the nights in front of Pari with all the wine bottles, the dark-red mouths and rushing faces. Always has been hoped to anyone in particular, only in the evenings quite desperate, because you have been happy about anyone who could sit next to you. I liked those lost in my youth always very happy that you did not know exactly where to sleep, in this city, to the full with the first train back, that was allowed to take driving and always the bottle in his hand and a few Insults on the tongue.
Now suddenly everything is very orderly. Before a trip, a hotel room is booked, the drinks are purchased locally and anyway everything is in perfect safety. In the taxi I think: The life of a cowboy looks different.
A few hours ago I came back from his grandmother. We played cards for three, went on trips and talk about politics. The grandfather is a heap of misery, has the last two weeks, the pain refused to leave the house. We took him between us and dragged him for coffee. A piece of strawberry cake, he has got, but now the taste yet, he says, strawberries can be eaten only if it is precisely the time for it. When the others are away, he shows me where it is bleeding, his skin is constantly sore that it hurts to breathe still. The grandmother is more relaxed than they were a couple of weeks around him and takes care of his every move. Some Days, she says, is he not, in others it has already attracted the pants alone when I come.
the day before I drove off, I met C of Greifswald, which I had for five / six years (yes, I believe, something like that) not seen. She fell immediately out of the myth of Greifswald, which had hardened with me over the years of absence and has become a geographical embodiment of a standstill. Of course, to move the things we do not monitor, never. At least not in our head. It was always
ambbivalente memories of this city. On the one hand, it was a formative time of music, in the many good things happened, on the other hand, I am with the feeling the run away and then looked back with a hard gaze, which should kill the ghosts.
We were with a boy of that time at an art opening and met by chance another Greifswald Erin. She worked there came up to us, did advertising and we were talking at breakneck speed put us finally on the move between the images through and gasping for champagne glasses in passing. Every two, for the others who had already some, but does not matter. The program was constantly interrupted by friends of hers, whom she kissed the cheeks, walked away and waved, holding her fingers to his ear to say: we call! She talked with the typical Livened nature, bring with them such jobs. Her gaze sweeps the room, the back there is an actor? I think so, not have to watch, I know the face, one day there was my intern, now he has his own gallery next door. The student comes to us, one of those very large, always smiling, handsome men, whose remarks are too smooth, as if that will take them seriously. When asked about his success, he says: It has character and therefore it is still employed. I however have none. This is the reason. I am a boot-licker.
When they sheer excited feelings or the champagne poured into the cut, I went back to the other two and we were sitting on stairs and turned cold cigarettes as before. I remembered the nights in front of Pari with all the wine bottles, the dark-red mouths and rushing faces. Always has been hoped to anyone in particular, only in the evenings quite desperate, because you have been happy about anyone who could sit next to you. I liked those lost in my youth always very happy that you did not know exactly where to sleep, in this city, to the full with the first train back, that was allowed to take driving and always the bottle in his hand and a few Insults on the tongue.
Now suddenly everything is very orderly. Before a trip, a hotel room is booked, the drinks are purchased locally and anyway everything is in perfect safety. In the taxi I think: The life of a cowboy looks different.
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