Scientist "aged"

The phrase “aged” is still unusual for me: when referring to people over 55, I usually say “he (she) is already quite old.” But I’m not a purist - so further, for convenience, I will still use this turn of phrase.

The tendency to “rejuvenate” our science through administrative means, i.e. asking “older” scientists to vacate the premises for those who are younger seems to me to be another attempt to choose the most primitive paths, which in fact often turn out to be downright harmful.

It is well known that mathematicians mature early, and humanities scholars much later, so I will not discuss topics related to the correlation between the age and productivity of a scientist, measured by the amount of publications. It is more interesting to think about what - if successful, of course - the interaction between more productive young people and relatively less “quantitatively” productive “older” scientists is based on.

In relation to those whom I consider my teachers in science, I can say that the fact that these people were physically present among us, that they simply were, meant no less than the works that they had managed to publish by that time. Some of them were ready to read our immature exercises. Others were sorry to waste energy on this, but in oral conversations none of us knew refusal.

My teacher Vladimir Nikolaevich Sidorov did not even read my PhD thesis, although his name as the official supervisor was on the title. Actually, why did he need to waste precious time on this? He was not old, but he was very sick: the camps where he ended up at one time in the “Slavist case” with his leg in a cast due to bone tuberculosis had taken their toll. He wrote little, but always thought with brilliant clarity. And the mere fact that every Tuesday and Thursday I could go up to his small office on the third floor of our ancient building and ask any question encouraged me to think more responsibly and formulate my judgments in a more disciplined manner.

In recent years, Alexander Alexandrovich Reformatsky has been writing mostly small scientific studies and sketches, although his thought has not at all become impoverished. But if it were not for his devoted students, the invaluable observations and reflections of recent years would most likely have remained in sketches and scattered manuscripts.

And it’s not just about the opportunity to discuss specific results with the teacher or find out what you should read about a particular subject. There is also a certain inexpressible idea about what should be, about what a scientific result is in general, about the level of demands on oneself - in fact, this is an understanding of the essence of work in science, and it is conveyed not through books, but through live communication.

It is interesting to note that neither A.A. Reformatsky, who headed the Sector of Structural and Applied Linguistics, nor the remarkable orientalist and expert in general linguistics A.A. Kholodovich, who agreed, out of collegial feelings, to oppose I.A. Melchuk and me when we defended our Ph.D. discipline that began its “academic” existence, not even the virtuoso of logical constructions V.N. Sidorov - none of them was such an unconditional supporter of the use of mathematics in linguistics. But our teachers had enormous scientific, life and everyday experience, thanks to which they were duly lenient towards our plans and ambitions.

A considerable part of these plans - I will immodestly note - have been realized, although, perhaps, in forms far from the original plans.

Pasternak once wrote: “Tradition appeared to all of us.”

I would emphasize: she appeared to us. We were simply incredibly lucky in this regard. The guardians and transmitters of tradition are both people of great stature - this fully applies to my teachers - and ordinary people, so to speak - here I include many of my “companions.”

In general, the instinctive desire to pass on tradition as such to younger people is characteristic of man as a cultural actor. But we were lucky - as later lucky were, for example, those who consider themselves students of Lotman, Meletinsky, Gasparov: after all, it doesn’t matter in whose person “tradition appeared to all of us.”

Meanwhile, the students of Lotman and Gasparov became already well-known scientists “of age” - some are over 50, and others over 60. I was very surprised when a collection was published for the 60th anniversary of N, and after it they began to collect another - for 60th anniversary of NN. It seemed to me that they were still quite young people - apparently due to the fact that N’s peers had at one time been my students or graduates...

With collections for such round dates - or, as Reformatsky liked to say, homages (from the French hommage - signs of veneration, tribute of respect) - the scientific community honors remarkable people who have especially distinguished themselves. It's logical. Of course, in the NN laboratory there are older researchers who are unlikely to receive collections “in honor”. Yes, they are not so bright, but without them the laboratory would simply have collapsed long ago. It is these “aged people” who hold the bar and preserve the community itself - even if sometimes at least the illusion of such - in the hope of better times.

Young people travel a lot, tailor topics to grants and orders, are tempted by expeditions and conferences in distant countries - and these, who are “older”, write general reports, edit collective works, go around with their superiors, often covering for younger and more successful ones - let’s say, historians who were able to travel at government expense to an exotic location for an international gathering of geographers.

Without these “aged” researchers, many of whom listened to lectures by S.I. Bondi, studied in graduate school with A.P. Kazhdan, found S.V. Zhitomirskaya at the head of the Department of Lenin Manuscripts, and I.G. Petrovsky as rector of Moscow State University - without them, the ethos of science, which they continue to serve, would have frayed much more thoroughly.

Of course, in any large scientific team you can find middle-aged people who remain in their place solely by inertia: they were once smart workers and did their job without claiming any special achievements; Some of them, following the rules of the game, at one time wrote and even defended their Ph.D. dissertation - and remained at the same level. However, given the current miserable salaries, there are very few such characters.

Our wonderful Indologist V.S. Sementsov, who passed away in 1986 as a very young man, a year before his death wrote an amazing article about the ways and possibilities of passing on the tradition (reprinted with short essays by V.V. Malyavin and S.S. Averintsev, commenting on Sementsov’s ideas, in the collection “East - West” (Moscow, Nauka, 1988).

Sementsov’s pathos lies in the fact that, from his point of view, the essence of tradition lies not in the transfer of some knowledge or experience, but in the “reproduction of the personality” of the Teacher. I find a similar message in a series of essays by A.P. Chudakov “Listening to Bondi”, “Learning from Vinogradov”, “Talking with Ginzburg”, “Asking Shklovsky”. (I hope that soon we will be able to read them under one cover in the book of the late Alexander Pavlovich, prepared by the New Publishing House.)

How insightful Brodsky was when he said: ideas live in people...