Where does the Motherland begin?

Unlike usurpation of power, the concept of love for the motherland does not lie in the legal field. This thing is purely individual, personal, like church and faith. She does not tolerate showing off, pounding on the chest and stadium screams; she lives quietly inside everyone. And a real feeling has one vector - wherever a person is, he wishes only the best for his country and people.

Beautiful... But it’s not like that. In fact, there are only one true lovers of the homeland. And their love is directly proportional to the height of the bureaucratic chair. The higher the office in the Russian Federation Tower, the stronger the love. What about other compatriots? Outside Russia - only in the States and Western Europe - more than 10 million Russian-speaking citizens and immigrants from the former USSR live permanently. Everyone has a different destiny - families, children, work, life circumstances. No country considers expats living abroad to be second-class citizens; they are always ready to count on them.

The problem is that many of them simply have a “strange” ability to think differently than behind the red stone wall. Hardly anyone seriously believes in 73 percent of foreign votes. This is where this propaganda image comes from - a dense ring of enemies and traitors, bad boys pouring green tea into the mill of the mythical bourgeois conquerors for sushi and sashimi. Soviet patriotic tales are firmly lodged in my head, even though the times have long since changed.

It’s one thing to play a familiar melody on the piano with two fingers; it’s another thing, as the leader of the nation declared 12 years ago, to try to unite everyone who cares about this homeland and use this enormous potential. In response - offensive “banderlogs”.

You can’t say better than Yura the musician, as he did in the Echo of Moscow program last Sunday:

“Why did they privatize the love of country, these guys? This is what broke me the most, this aesthetics, these speeches that “we saved Russia, we saved Russia.” From whom? From us? Guys, I hope I love my homeland no less than a worker at a carriage factory, there, from Chelyabinsk or wherever. No less. And I wandered around the country no less, and I know life no less, and I worked no less for the glory of Russia. Therefore, there is no need to distort. Who are we? Are we the princess and the peas, or what? Some big girls, perhaps, who sleep on feather beds and clean their nails in clubs? This is all untrue. A mass of people who want and love our country, Russia, wish it well above all, but think differently, trying to figure everything out. Not blindly, not numb to any posters, any marches, endless Victory Parades. We are not numb, we have seen all kinds of life. And they also ate oatmeal and barley in the trenches. And therefore, there is no need to blame us for not loving our homeland. This is bullshit."

Because from a wide soul and a big heart (see first paragraph).