Dmitry Bykov. Bykov-quickly: look-59

Bykov-quickly: look-59
Dmitry Bykov

Publication date: November 6, 2003

This quickle will be short, because I don’t see, in general, a special subject for conversation. I could well have expected just such a turn of thought, which was demonstrated by Alexander Ageev in the next “ Hunger ”. I liked the slogan, jokingly expressed by a critic friend in a private conversation, “Feed Ageev!”, but this hunger is insatiable, such an itch will not go away during one’s lifetime. Personally, I liked this passage the most:

“Here’s a quick question: Dmitry Lvovich and his comrades were quite diligently engaged in the ideological revision of the “legacy” of the 90s (he had a lot of comrades, and most importantly, sympathizers, and very high-ranking ones, and there was no “liberal gendarmerie”, despite Bykov’s complaints , did not prevent them from restoring the “scoop” under the nice guise of “conservatism”), so, it would be interesting to know whether he likes his (the legacy of the 90s) criminal-practical “revision” carried out by people who, in Bykov’s words, Have you experienced “ some general sobering up and a rejection of several disastrous hypnosis in favor of a more sober and holistic worldview ”?

And further: “The thing is that in Russia it is too early to “sober up” in the sense described above, that is, even with the best intentions to make any claims to freedom (well, at least for the lawlessness that reigned in the 90s ) Because on this path you run the risk of suddenly finding yourself on the same side of the barrier with “native organs”, ready to quickly and effectively “work on mistakes.” As if the 90s were not life and not history that radically changed Russia, but only just a bad essay that can be rewritten.”

What to do if a person did an indecent thing before your eyes? Walk by and not notice? - especially considering that the discussion with Ageev is of little interest to anyone; discussion is possible where the opponent is ready to take a critical view of his own statements, even if made in the heat of the moment, but here we do not observe and will not observe such readiness. What should you do if someone is blatantly distorting you before your eyes? Ignore? - but this can easily be regarded as a sign of agreement... If someone wants to consider my beliefs “a scoop under the guise of conservatism”, I cannot forbid it; It’s not like you can argue with Ageev about conservatism, after all. The person has already decided that I am a fascist, albeit a scoop, to define me more mildly - well, you can’t convince me otherwise? It's clear that he doesn't love me. And therefore, no matter what I say or do, he will interpret it in the most unfavorable way for me. But the critic and publicist A. and I, thank God, are not connected by such a relationship in which his dislike could push me to commit suicide? That's Sergei Kostyrko doesn’t love me, but I don’t mind Sergei Kostyrko. I do not seek his love, because I am not Kolya Osten-Baken, and he is not a Polish beauty. And in general, Boris Pasternak , whose biography for the ZhZL series I am now finishing, and therefore I refer to him more often than usual, once said to Olga Ivinskaya: “I don’t like right-wing people at all, I may be wrong and I don't want to be right!" A priori, calculated, predictable correctness does not interest me - I know well how this is done. I don't care about being right, but the truth is a completely different calico.

It was also predictable that sooner or later I and my like-minded people would be accused of Khodorkovsky’s arrest. Well, not directly, of course, but with the next swing of the Russian pendulum, someone will definitely want to “remember by name everyone who raised their hand.” At the same time, no one will care about how I reacted to the arrest of Khodorkovsky, about which I immediately wrote and said everything bad that I was used to saying during any arrest of a political figure, be it Limonov or Khodorkovsky, wherever I could. They will remember how I treated NTV - and how I did not want to share the liberal ideology. I wrote about the fact that the liberals will be right at Putin’s very first mistakes (and they are inevitable) in the article “Goodbye, our affectionate Grisha,” in April 2000. It's amazing how eager they are to fulfill my predictions.

And the pendulum will swing, there is no doubt about it, Evgeny Kiselev recently wrote in Moscow News : it is important to save face until it swings. But what should someone who is tired of this pendulum paradigm do? Who is not satisfied with either the triumph of the secret services or Mikhail Khodorkovsky as a symbol of freedom? Who doesn't want to constantly rush between a barracks and a mess? Those, apparently, are by default included in the St. Petersburg security forces, since they refuse to share the beliefs of the “classical liberals,” as Ageev calls it - that is, the people who, throughout the nineties, destroyed my craft, reduced journalism to PR, and literature to reading matter.

It's funny to argue with this. It’s funny to catch these people cheating. Well, you won’t explain to Ageev that the “criminal audit” is not carried out by those people who experienced sobering up? What, when speaking about people who experienced sobering, I did not mean Vladimir Ustinov? And, to be honest, I don’t have any high-ranking comrades - I would be very grateful to Ageev for listing them, but I can’t wait. It is important for him to drop a hint: here, Bykov is working at the suggestion of high-ranking comrades . That is, bought. That is, he has no convictions. What to do with a person who lies to you as if you were dead? Let him live.

What can be answered to the statement that it is too early for Russia to “sober up” in the sense described above? The only interesting thing is when it won’t be too early. And whether then there will be anyone to sober up. But the pendulum will swing, because Russia has no alternative. It is still rushing between two unbearables that have long been equalized. And in some two thousand eight or two thousand ten, another liberal - during the next division and the next jubilation - will probably demand that you be sent somewhere: because “in the fateful hour” you did not go out into the square to defend NTV ! And he didn’t consider Boris Berezovsky a worthy opponent of the St. Petersburg security officers! And he didn’t call Yabloko the conscience of the nation! Repressive psychology is inherent not only in our security forces. Liberals no less want to “ostracize.” And don’t ask me who was stopping me. It’s easier. list who did not poison me after I came to work at the Conservative - which stopped long ago, but still haunts its liberal denouncers.

It’s not just Ageev, of course. What more could you want from people who, on the eve of 2000, scolded Putin for being a creature of the family, and at the end of this year they revile him for breaking away from the family? And who seems to be their ideal - Luzhkov, perhaps, or Primakov? So after all, Primakov fully supports and approves of Putin’s actions; he would have started this much earlier, if it had been his will; and Luzhkov just sang and danced at the evening on the occasion of the semicircular anniversary of the Komsomol - something is unclear to someone, maybe? It was scary how musty and rotten it smelled from the screen on which Kobzon reigned; Maybe this seemed to someone the optimal alternative to Putin? Then this is where we should start - I, they say, believe that a Luzhkov-Primakov bloc at the head of the country would be optimal. And only then reproach those who opposed the Luzhkov-Primakov bloc in the 2000s for being a “family” candidate.

But if Ageev “would be curious to know” whether I like “criminal audit”, I will answer him, since it is a sin not to respect someone else’s curiosity. In general, I love it when people ask me questions; this is better than being accused of being friends with the authorities, who hate me much more than any liberal. I am hated precisely because there is nothing to blackmail me with - I got nothing from the division or redistribution; and it’s also difficult to zombie me - I’m trying to think, even if this is fraught with friendly liberal persecution and classifying me as a Russian fascist.

I don't like criminal audit.

I do not consider Khodorkovsky’s arrest a sign of Russia’s sobering up.

I'm tired of tossing between the lawlessness of freedom lovers and the lawlessness of the authorities.

But I’m even more tired of the desire to blame those who are trying to think for everything that happens. I still don’t see Ageev and his like-minded people in the squares, I don’t hear their speeches on “Echo of Moscow”, I don’t read their open letters in defense of disgraced businessmen, I don’t even see their protesting publications in the paper press - while I myself am in “Ogonyok” and “ Interlocutor” has already said everything he considered necessary about Khodorkovsky’s arrest. I understand why it is easiest to blame your literary opponents for what is happening: it is safe. And you yourself are clean, and nothing will happen to you.

Is it possible to argue with people who use this logic? With people who nostalgically love the nineties? With people whose main task is to defame you in order to emphasize their snow-whiteness?

You don't argue with such people. They are wished happiness and prosperity.

A relatively new poem on this subject.

Tenth ballad

And they come up to me in the stuffiness of the barracks, in the cramped space and the stench and hubbub of blitheness. Look around, they say, swashbuckler - look, they say, smell, it’s all you! Cut back, Socratic, - now you won’t argue. And it would be good for you alone - but for the whole people! Admire the work of your hands, murderer, visionary, freedom-lover, goatbeard! At the bucket, the bunk, the lousy ones under the blanket, the skeletons marching in threes - admire your transpersonal ideal, look at your arrogant values. Look - the guards are throwing rutabaga to the children. Look - the goons are being driven into the forest with rifle butts. If even a beautiful lady ends up like this, even if it’s a night violet - where did you go?! Your place is here, your clothes are shared by thieves, snitches are swarming on the neighboring bunks. Look, crap, how conversations about the Fatherland end. Here is the Fatherland, get it. What don't you like? Take him under signature. Move your nostrils: only heaven smells like that. And they shove my ration and bowl under my nose - my black ration, my empty bowl.

Your truth, dogs, do not spare me, Judas, I did this, this is the area of ​​my dreams. Yes, I tell them, oh yes, I won’t be there anymore, I never will be, I’m almost gone. Thank God, now I know firsthand (and when, however, did I not know in the depths of my soul?): There are no verticals, there are only towers, and on the towers there are bears, and they have Kalash rifles! I renounce words, their fatal poison, as it was called in the old days. Shame on the old days. How I knew that you would always be right - because you are on the right side, because you are an army of stench, decay, hell, you are blooming rot, leprosy ulcer scraping, for everything goes in this direction - that’s how it should be - and stand on your way means to multiply sorrow, it means to tear throats, and shed blood like water, and pave the swamp with bones under a hoarse howl, because I know too well your freedom - the dear freedom of a tree to become grass! Oh the bliss of decay, the sweet captivity of rot, connivance, evolution into nowhere, oh the jackal's holiness, oh the kindness of the hyena, the genius of pus, the armada, the muzzle, the horde! You are an aspen thrill, a creeping wasp flight, a supper crawling, a sweet fly itch. No effort - because we clearly see here the incomparable crown of any effort! Kiss the quagmire. Lie down if you are a man. Do not contradict the spring, the gear is knocked down. It’s me, I’m telling you, I’m the only reason, I’m the one to blame for everything, don’t hit me.

And suddenly in my flimsy barracks the cracks are plugged and lights flash. Now you understand, they say with a smile, now you are almost ours, they say. They remove the shepherd dog, exchange it for a husky, take away the pick, hand me a hammer, hit the rail, give me white solder and run a current through the barbed wire.