Air of freedom

A significant part of the materials in the pre-New Year issue of the “Trinity Option” was devoted to - how to put it mildly - the ugliness inherent in the organizational structure of our scientific world. Immanently - because different forms of outrages - from moderate to extreme - are observed not only in the “Grand Academy”, but also in the “Akapedia”; both at our “main” university and at the federal ones; both in traditional and, at first glance, “decent” educational institutions, and in institutions conceived as avant-garde.

Nomina sunt odiosa... Although the ancients complained about the “decline of morals,” one should not treat these outrages like the weather. Therefore, it is not at all idle to think about why almost any new undertaking sooner or later acquires a black mark of Sovietism among us?

Several years ago, in one of the LiveJournal blogs, I came across a text that I reproduce below with minimal abbreviations:

“I was suddenly able to formulate for myself what really distinguished Shaninka from all other places in this world, and what we did not notice while we were studying there, just as a fish does not notice the water in which it is located until it is out of there pull out. This is the air of freedom. In addition to all the other merits for which Theodore is carried in his arms at the School, <...> it is impossible to argue with one thing: he created at his university a unique atmosphere of freedom, in which, probably, only real education in the full sense of the word is possible - not “transfer information from the teacher’s notes to the students’ notes, bypassing the heads of both,” but real learning, or rather, learning.

The principle of academic freedom put forward by Theodore for his university was as follows (not verbatim, but the gist is this): the university does not interfere with the activities of the faculty, the faculty does not interfere with the activities of the departments, and the department does not interfere with the activities of individual teachers. That is, if we take the beginning and end of this chain, then no one within the walls of an educational institution has the right to tell the teacher what exactly to say during lectures. Only he himself can determine the interpretation of his subject. Moreover, then, in Shaninka, it was (or, in any case, it seemed) so natural and organic that in the first reading it did not even evoke any special emotions.

It was unclear why they were so fussed over this freedom of theirs, businesslike... Although in fact it is difficult to imagine a more revolutionary and seditious idea, and primarily for an educational institution. How does the department not interfere in the activities of the teacher?! How can you not control what is heard in the classrooms? What if some terrible nonsense is read there, undermining the foundations of everything and everyone? (What automatically comes to mind is <...> unobtrusive “attendances” to lectures by the dean after a “signal” from one of the students that the teacher is tolerant of the idea of ​​divorce.)

In principle, it is incomprehensible how such an educational institution can exist - without a rudder and sails. But in fact it turned out that it was precisely this principle, which formed the basis of the educational (no, still educational, or, rather, teaching) process, that gave birth to an absolutely amazing atmosphere of freedom and self-expression, in which only real learning was possible. This was the most unique and valuable thing that Shanin gave to his students (and teachers, I suspect, too).

Now, in hindsight, it's amazing that this wasn't so acutely realized before. In fact, only now I remember very clearly this feeling: you cross through the gate, and you even breathe differently. You return back to the city - and you are under the cover again. Wake up, Neo. Matrix has you." (Recording made in 2007 - R.F. )

I recently happened to mention this “lid” in a seemingly unexpected connection. One successful young man asked why I didn’t have RFBR grants, and was surprised by the answer: because I didn’t want to get involved. I had to give an example, remarkable for its stupidity, but, I’m afraid, not for its originality.

Typically, a portion of the grant money is earmarked for the purchase of equipment and supplies; in my case it was just floppy disks and books. The money arrived only at the end of November, the books still had to be found, and when I presented all the required papers and checks, they refused to pay for the books. I called the relevant structure of the Russian Academy of Sciences, where they assured me that the books they were obliged to pay for . Not so!..

Wake up, Neo. Matrix has you. I gave up and paid for the books out of my own pitiful pocket - this was in the year of the default.

Now take the time to return to the problems and formulations on pages 1-2 of the last issue of the “Trinity Option” for last year.

Wake up, Neo. Until it's not too late.