The end of history

In the summer of this year, they visited his wife in the open air in Biezer (Tunisia), organized by the Fund for the preservation of historical heritage. A.A. Manstein-Shirinskaya. Accordingly, the text is about this: about history, about the legacy, about memory.

The plener was dedicated to the Russian squadron, which, retreating from the Red Army, left Sevastopol in 1920 (with families, wives, children)-and, having sailed Bosphorus, Dardanella, went to the Mediterranean Sea. More than 30 warships with a crew, weapons, circling Europe - no one wanted to provide them with a parking lot: you never have a desperate sailors? They could easily capture any port - the squadron anchored at the former Carthage.

* * *

Bizerta is the northern point of Africa. The French kept this important strategic port as much as they could - even after the provision of Independence to Tunisia, held the city for several years. It is indicated on any map, but for some reason there are no tourists. A mixture of European architecture of the Mediterranean and completely amazing Arab quarters. Narrow streets, on which two can hardly get through - you must definitely bow to each other, look in the face. There are unexpectedly a lot of people, the goods are laid out “for their own”, tourists do not push here, they look at us with curiosity. The covers stretched between the houses give a shadow even at noon. Roosters and chickens walk underfoot, firewood is folded near the baths. Tiny hairdressers on one chair in which someone is sure to sit (home-made windows, decorated with some photographs and clippings from magazines). A mixture of the East and in its own way of the understood European chic of the 50s. But everything is harmonious in color (a lot of white, which unites everything, like a white sheet of paper under the pattern). A sharp contrast of light and shadow (the arches seem almost black), a narrow tape of a dazzling blue sky between houses and minarettes, from which a mujin scream, recorded to save on a tape recorder.

* * *

When we gathered in Bizernet to the place of the last parking lot of the Russian squadron, we had a rather vague idea of ​​the targets of the openier. Tunisia, beaches, cheap rest, what else? We are modern people, the 21st century, another rhythm of life ... (I remembered awkward meetings in childhood with veterans who even spoke some other language). In addition, none of the participants in the history was alive - when Tunisia ceased to be a French colony, the last Russians moved to Europe, some even took the dust of their ancestors from the cemetery.

Why are we there? "Check memory"? Lay to veterans, like pioneers? History ... Why is it needed today? Since we were specifically fed and watered for this, I decided to figure it out: memory is the benefit of it or harm?

* * *

If we proceed from the values ​​of “Economics - profit - private life”, it is obvious that there is much more harm from memory than good. It is much more convenient to live alone (profitable, comfortable): received a good education, mastered a profession and ride around the world, look for a higher salary. You rest in Singapore, everyone smiles at you, and the very very good mood (you do not worry about stupid fools-related ones). You don’t answer for anything, you easily switch from one business to another, adapt well.

If you want to succeed, then memory-storage only interferes. You will not break the old house to build a shopping center in its place - if you remember that you ran here in childhood, he tore apples.

Or, for example, to flood the village to build a power plant is also difficult if he suddenly remembered that the great poet Sergei Yesenin lived here.

Even cemeteries are not needed: while you can distinguish a name on the grave, how to equalize it with the ground and make a parking lot? It is very difficult to tear the cross with someone’s name from the ground, especially if you remember who is under this cross. That is, whatever one may say, the memory of a separate person always interferes. Memory is a real lack of freedom, and who and when wanted to be not free?

* * *

For example, in the 18th century in Russia, no one suddenly needed archives, old papers, annals-the enlightenment formed the trend “new better than the old”, and people, each individually, I think, experienced relief (what kind of work to regularly rewrite the annals, a hundred years of age, to monitor their safety, to transfer them to more modern media, why?) Thousands of documents were dusting, unexplored, unexplored. They ate the mice, they “wrapped seeds” in them, and when Count Musin-Pushkin announced that he would pay for “old papers” live money, they suffered priceless documents from all sides. Imagine: the bishop comes to one of the monasteries and asks: where is your archive? The abbot turns pale ... Mom is dear ... where is the archive? Everyone finally ran a bunch of rushing ... She gets to the Musin-Pushkin, and the hair on her head begins to move: “Word about Igor’s shelf” ...

And, on the other hand, so what? Well, “word”, well, “about the shelf” ... What are we now, do not drink tea? And on TV football, a match of the century ...

* * *

It seems that the memory is of some value only when the hierarchy is built differently: not a private person on the top (with his tea, TV, etc.)-but at least two or three, family, society. Genus.

When a person wants to be not by himself - but partly. Part of the family (for this they order portraits of relatives, make tombstones in cemeteries, and even from time to time they are restored). Part of the country (collective memory = history).

* * *

1920: It enters the African port of the squadron of ships, several thousand Russian people leave the shore, and then the most amazing begins-they begin to restore the lost homeland there. Nobody scattered into his mink, no one forgot anything (so that he will quickly adapt to asphych on, so that “just to survive”). They managed to organize - difficult, painfully, another climate, another culture, another world - but found a common language with the local authorities, created a community, established everyday life, opened a church, a school for children, the Gardemarin School ... The French, of course, understood that the situation was unusual: hundreds of people were not clear for anyone - older officers taught children right on ships, in random rooms, it is incomprehensible. What, according to which program - what to do with them then? And they decide to approve these home-made “certificates”, equate to the state-so that the release children can then continue education in higher education institutions. But someone had to agree with these French colonial authorities, convince, explain, miracle!

The Russians in Africa regularly arrange joint holidays ... their cemetery ... Russian world ... Yeah, that's the matter: the world (in the sense of world) - if there is no story, then no world develops. It is difficult to create a whole = closed without "a word about Igor's regiment." There is no world that arose just yesterday from nowhere.

The first wave of emigration, that's why it was preserved in history: they all had a common value - memory - and they were very afraid to lose it. All the following waves of emigration, as a concept, do not exist - simply because they do not have this collective memory. Living outside of history, they do not create world. Another hierarchy.

The second emigration fled from hated advice (they could not remember, but I, on the contrary, wanted to forget quickly).

The third rode specifically to take place “there”, what kind of memory to the pigs ...

The fourth seemed to have not left anywhere at all (even though he will never return) ...

Today, several million Russians live in Europe-successful, talented, consisted (and thank God!)-but for some reason the memory-stain does not stick to them, does not settle on them with mysterious dust. It is difficult to imagine that someone will then remember them as a phenomenon (organizing the openier, will send artists to study-describe). There is nowhere to come and show how the first Russian emigration: "Here they were." Or "they did it." Or at least “here they are dead” (cemetery).

* * *

The unit of measurement of history is a human life, only it can measure the temperature of the historical event and its value. But as soon as the concept of “death” disappeared (the idea that someone will go to your own grave does not even occur to the culture of such a thoughtful topic)-life without death has become an infinite one, and it is difficult to use “infinity” as a ruler. The unit of measurement of history “Life” becomes uncertain - accordingly, the very concept of “history” disappears. Starting with the first burials (pyramids, mounds, etc.), the story ends exactly at the moment when the concept of “death” finally falls out of cultural everyday life.

History turns into news, into a series, annual championships, football-reliability. So what? But: if the whole has disappeared, then the part (private life) also, unfortunately, flows through the fingers. (I noticed: as soon as he began to forget the football story - who scored what the ball, in what year - as soon as my football world with transfers, the chances of exit, faded, etc. - stopped being part of the fans' army - for some reason, I will look at half an hour after dinner of the English Premier League - and good).

Illustration: Konstantin Sutyan, Bisert, 2012