In the media wind

Alexander Ageev (1956-2008) was born in Ivanovo, in 1980 he graduated there, in 1985 he defended his candidate. Published as a poet since 1974, as a critic first acted in 1976. He taught at the department of Soviet literature. In 1991 he moved to Moscow, until 2001 he headed the journalism department in the banner magazine, was first known as a literary critic, but eventually turned into a broader profile publicist. The copyright section "Hunger" (2000-2004) in the network "Russian Journal" became the most loud "project" of Ageev. Part of its materials was published in the book “Gazeta, Gloss, Internet. The writer in three environments ”(M.,“ New Literary Review ”). In 2011, a collection of selected articles and reviews “Synopsis of the Crisis” (M., Art House Media ”) was posthumously published. Now the book “Voice” is being prepared in the publishing house, the compilers of which were journalist Julia Rakhaev and son of Alexander Sergey Ageev, and Tatyana Timakova as an editor. Among the additional materials that will be included in the book are the preface of Ilya Kukulin and Vyacheslav Kuritsyn; One of them COLTA.RU offers to your attention.

I met Ageev twenty years before his death, at the seminar of young literary critics in Jurmala, which lasted, now it is strange, a month and a half, we can have time to discuss all human and aesthetic preferences. It is precisely the discussions of, however, clarification of positions, disputes with Ageev, I do not remember that intonation things remained in my memory.

Firstly, the dose of irony and skepticism (I was 9 years younger, I got into a professional party for the first time and thought that it was Sasha that it would drive me), but then-secondly-the goodwill always present behind the skepticism.

These qualities of Sasha have not gone anywhere in the era of violent critical discussions of the nineties. Critics in magazines that received freedom, with great pleasure, proclaimed and printed, and the degree of discussion sometimes seemed to be its meaning: you are polemicizing, therefore, you exist.

Writing in the mid -eighties to my Uralmashevsky cuisine with a dozen such magazines, I sawed the aroma of a great life, which then the replicas of Art. Satin about Art. Kunyaev and the intensity with which women by the name of Ivanov (except for the now famous in Litkroughs, Natalia then announced two more - one with the “democratic”, the other from the “reactionary” side), the fate of Russia was transmitted in the height of Petit.

I also wanted to participate, I wanted to be referred to me - and at least even printed!

Very soon, I plunged into these seas, the feathers were buzzing, the paper suffered. And against the background of other paper soldiers (A. Nemzer, P. Basinsky, B. Kuzminsky, and on mine) Sasha Ageev acted as a model of restraint and polemic correctness. Although, of course, this can be aberration: he personally spared me, if he was bored, then in a friendly manner, so he seemed to be a model of correctness, and who came from him in full-it seemed that, perhaps, a model of something else.

The point is the modus of existence: all the time to be in the field of journalistic stress seemed normal. Energy and all that.

Years later, it is clear to me that I was a polemicist, maybe even sparkling, but not too skillful, if you consider skillful contact, and not the promotion of my point of view. The words said in the nineties, in the nineties, that the dialogue is two chopped monologues (in the context of the anniversary dancing around Bakhtin, in the dialogue of which Gasparov did not find anything very different from the multi -century preceding exchanges of judgments), and I was fully treated - and most of my colleagues.

I am amusing myself that I am aware of my dependence on discourse, a tendency to get into the ideological (in my case, the “idea” was postmodernism) rhetoric, although the degree of dependence still cannot be realized. But Ageev often demonstrated the ability to get out of automatic speech, knock down the angle of gaze.

Say, in 1991, Ageev published the System of Crisis, where he reported that in the great Russian literature of the 19th century, a lot of totalitarian pathos and worship of its relics can easily turn into spikes. Similar speeches were heard by that time from the mouth of wrestlers with phallian-centrism, but Ageev spoke from the inside of the liberal-democratic tradition, to which both biographically and in many respects conceptually belonged to, which caused a considerable commotion and suspicion. A person scolds Solzhenitsyn and speaks with sympathy about the mass culture: perhaps he is sick.

This paragraph is all quotes and links not from today's Internet, but from the ancient “hunger”. Senchin -Fanailova, Toporov - Pyrogov, Shargunov - Kuzmin is also there ... Then everyone moved to Facebook.

I remember my personal dispute with Sasha closer to the end of the nineties, when he expressed dissatisfaction with the fact that God began to write with a capital letter, and I objected that it was not to give a good tribute to the respectable tradition. Even later, when a newborn party with nationalist seizures (see “Hunger” No. 93) received 10 percent in the elections and there were fears that blood and soil flags would soon exclude again above our heads, Ageev wrote that this is a good sign - not in the sense that the nationalists are beautiful, but that history continues and awaits us ahead of a lot of interesting things. The interesting thing turned out to be excessively interesting, even the calm Ageev would be surprised, but what is important here: his focus on the future, at the Dvizhuha, on the Tsaitgai.

Dvizhuha and the 2000 project that arose in December 2000: Academically oriented, stylistically restrained literary critic Ageev spoke at the very tip of actual journalism. "Hunger" is an online report with in-chilling media platforms.

Of course, the built -in media, as a core of the era, is described by theorists for half a century. The “Society of the performance” of Deborah was composed in the late sixties, Bodriyar’s brochure about the disappearance of reality in connection with the direct broadcast of the Gulf War - after the Gulf War, which was also not yesterday. “Comments of comments comments” long ago became the emblem of boring posts of postmodernism.

What far to go, in the same “Russian magazine”, where “hunger” wound up, there was a heading, for example, “criticism of litcritics” by Yana Sokolova. Moreover, I myself first led at the Gelman.ru sitting in the neighboring office, and then in the “RG” “Kuritsyn-Uikli”, where the powerful guest book functioned, and the issues themselves were often built on the mirroring of media pots.

But Ageev sharply sharpened the reception.

In the Hunger pilot, he said:

“I read from five to ten daily newspapers with all their applications; All decent weekly and without covers; at least ten monthly literary and near -literary magazines; 20-25 of different qualities and genre of books of those minimum a hundred that pass through my hands in a month; 10-15 Runet sites ... "

And all this bunch of links, a pinch of bacteria threw a pinch of bacteria on the mirror of the microscope, and there the “content” began to light up, not too obeying the will of the Creator.

Submitting, of course, but there was already a feeling that he would stop soon.

Soon after Ageev, he enlisted his hypermedia “hunger”, I left Moscow in which he lived for ten years, and almost left the media field, the experience of existence in which by that time was twice as long. As far as it was connected with fatigue from publicity, it is already difficult to recall now, but since 2002 I have rarely collapsed, I have not mastered social networks, cultivated private forms (instead of “Kuritsyn-Uikels” in the world web, claiming an all-been panorama of Lithuania, “Kuritsyn-Kabara” in the club in the backyard of Squinum Square, Where unhurried Petersburgers could show like themselves what fresh performance they composed with lining or how well they know how to play a gip accordion). At the beginning of the new decade, life again drove into the capital and in the media leapfrog; In particular, I started Facebook, and most of those reading me now with this device are probably familiar.

This is a “social network”, just like Ageev’s “hunger”, only an animated.

The authors of fresh considerations and scandalous situations are represented here not only as material for predatory manipulations of the collector, but also on their own. They squeak, jump, light up with bulbs, fall into hatches with a victorious “HOP” and a purple flower on a long stem, are able to instantly supplement their point of view with new arguments and audio materials.

If earlier a rusty carburetor of a fundamental opinion needed to drag the information field on the information field, and there you know whether it will give seedlings, now this field itself is covered with all the fresh products of intellectual activity online and is shuddering in the orgasm of operational interpretations.

The implementation of the Borges metaphor, a slightly too revived Babylonian library. From afar, she imagined with frozen music, and nearby turned the acidic tones with an anthill.

When I muttered about postmodernism at the beginning of my creative path, which generates interactive literature, I did not know what I had in mind. The literary field, the information field - all these are images, not physical objects. When the Ageevsky “hunger” appeared, I thought: here he, almost came to life, a frying pan with the meaning. Let without me, I managed to enjoy it as an idea and cool. And Facebook completely removed the figurative component of the concept, this is a media glade in the literal sense of the word.

"Ermolin is quite boring to deal with the responses entered the first article." “Bykov works rudely, greasy (sebaceous), so to speak, strokes, so he does not need to learn from him.” “At the very end, Igor Glesh says the phrase seems to be on duty, but good.” “The outlined conflict does not reflect the personal problem of Krusanov, but the general aesthetic and worldview impasse, in which modern Russian prose, if not at all literature, has found.” “Does“ Stagnation ”really begin in Russia, as one popular publicist believes ?” "There is no strength to comment on the last decision - that is, the booker has not yet fallen below ..."

This paragraph is all quotes and links not from today's Internet, but from the ancient “hunger”. Senchin -Fanailova, Toporov - Pyrogov, Shargunov - Kuzmin is also there ... Then everyone moved to Facebook.

It should be noted that I started this toy for myself in the spring of 2012, having entered work as an official tool, and for the first six months I did not pay attention to the boiling of content too much. Only in the fall I began to read to the friend and sometimes (very rarely, however, even less often) to comment on it, and now in the spring of 2014 I brought these processes to about zero. But, therefore, for the whole year and a half I, at first, maybe for an hour, and by the end, maybe even, on other days and two (if you think about it, this is an analogue of a liter of vodka, see “Hunger” No. 57) per day, a day, whose usefulness could very much be left to be desired.

Yes, thanks to the information self -affected I learned about many magnificent things like a bridge over the Dutch river, which is located below the water level, and sixteen ways to quit eating a sweet one without leaving the confectionery. Yes, as a communication tool is very functional, and links to the articles of the best publicists, of course, is also convenient to catch ...

I was surprised, by the way, upon returning to the media sphere, how much we had the best publicists. Not just brave and fundamental, witty and able to select words, but also educated, focusing in the subject, analyzing the injection of shit in the fatherland in dozens of magnificent contexts ... In a plus to the triumph of the hyperinteric structure, there is also a holiday of profession, I am without irony.

But after “without irony” - a legal place for “but”.

The chopped monologues were crushed more molecular. Such a seemingly opportunity for a comprehensive discussion of the subject: ask a question, clarify the position, put up your opinion, clarify it, roll the terms ... no.

Injection-Otskok-tsarapina-conservice; The next post rolled up, like vomiting to the throat. The fact that technologically resembles the game of Castali beads (when reading the “game of beads” I wanted to play it, but the forms in which the beads would be rolled), rhythmically the least came out to sit on the shore of a stream under the crushing of the harp.

And that worse-the pleasure of the syllable and the logic of the best publicists soon began to bore with their autoerical overtones: well, imagine that the court is in the courtyard, and you are leafing through a culinary book with large pictures.

Everything is written correctly, and fair, and not by lies, and logically, and with brilliance, and reality is overgrown with a thistle - and, it seems, the more agile, the more fairly my frands are ugly.

And this feeling of complete meaninglessness of the work of a well -arranged, humanly and literary gifted and not badly trained machine grew and worried. And the car itself - probably, at least implicitly, realizing this senselessness, and who will like this to himself - she clearly lost her face.

The more the red ass of the political catastrophe was spread over the horizon, the less conventional intonations became (it was difficult to assume that the word “fascist” would become the most widespread by the seventy years of the seventy years of the most common in Russian society with a curse, and almost all interested entities will be addressed to each other).

The information rumble does not subside with the pressing of the “Exit” button, settles in the head, corrodes the brain from the inside. Actually, fifteen years ago, I answered Ageev in Wikikli to the first “hunger”, “I read fourteen brochures at this time, which is not necessary, Sasha, so many relevant opinions to a living person, he is not imprisoned for such a load. And so I, as a reader of Facebook, ended up in the Ageevsky place myself.

“Hunger” - how exactly the word has recouped. Physiology on Facebook has become soak like gas through holes. After all, a person not only expresses an opinion there, he - using the entire arsenal of technical means - gives himself out with his head: a treacherous selfie, coming from his tongue about grandmother, daily routine, labels at the pillars. Bonfires of ambitions. Other ambitions turned, and then at least they like it.

And the lists suddenly smoked along the fairway, barges with lists, who signed what exactly, who answered and what particularly - who did not answer, who did not get involved; No, brother, not only have you signed the text “a”, you are still a fascist until you signed “B”, whose preambul indicates that whoever does not sign is the fascist.

It is just not to let him go into the goal, this hum, throw the Facebook under the sofa, into the dusty corner, but a push was needed, and the push happened. A few days before I was entrusted with such an important matter, a preface to the Sashina book, I first ended up in the Crimea in my life.

March 2014: annexation-connection-connection-connecting-reversing-you remember vocabulary, reader.

I also had some kind of my attitude towards her, to this vocabulary. Rather, not to vocabulary, no. I did not share, perhaps, the Masochism of my Frequence, who called on the thunder and lightning on the heads of all Russians for the fact that the leadership so cleverly pulled the Crimea. But I shared morality: my country was clearly worth leaving the imperialist rhetoric in the library, because its practical application leads to systemic overloads (which empire, if we can’t produce a sewing machine) and to a further increase in a patriotic feces, which already in all vases and vessels.

And in Yalta, the gates of some Ukrainian military facility were opened in front of me, so that I, “ours”, as the guards put it, could go to the Palace of Emir of Bukhara located on its territory. To the Russians, I am used to it, abroad are more often neutral, sometimes bad, but here I was just not worn in my arms. The new bodily experience, of course, changes thinking, but it was important to encounter just with other people's logic.

I explained to the Crimeans who celebrated the return to Russia (everyone was rejoiced from among the meters: old people, youth, Tatars, employees of Ukrainian law enforcement agencies) that they are in vain that the Moscow ass is not smaller, not cleaner than Kyiv, there will also be something to howl. And they did not understand just such a division into “we” and “you”. In my reasoning, I (along with other Muscovites) was “we”, and the Crimeans - “you”, and it seemed to the Crimeans that “we” were both me and they too. That we are "we" together.

People return home - well, how they return from the war, from captivity, from a long journey, and I try to warn them that there is little bread and a lot of work at home, and in general, from the point of view of political correctness, the fact that I accept you, I infringe on your current overlord, but he is also a subject with rights, and in addition, with your appearance, I personally have less dates and tobacco.

It is clear, however, that for the Crimeans this is not arguments against returning home.

My friend-Watermodernist Bavilsky, the martyr of the chiaroscuro and also the hero of the “hunger”, drew the demotivator “I do not need Crimea I do not need Crimea” these days. Bavilsky is a deeply apolitical person and who does not know how to draw, this post was for him both labor -cost and principled. It seemed to him, probably, that he showed civil maturity. And is it great maturity to those who need you, that they are for you.

Оказалось, что дело не в разных принципах (либерал, империалист…), а в том, что медийный язык, внутри которого я существую, просто не имеет отношения к реальности, описывает какие-то иные события, другой предмет: вот что стало подлинным потрясением. Язык, допустим, верный, но все время — мимо.

В Москве марш против войны (я приехал как раз после российских маршей и крымского референдума). Какой войны, не понимали крымчане. Ну, войны с вами. With whom? В Ялте не было никакой войны, по пустынной набережной бегали дети, облако покачивалось над горизонтом, ни единого человека с ружьем, а «зеленые человечки», зловещий образ Фейсбука, переодетые российские спецребята без опознавательных знаков, страховавшие крымские власти на случай украинского сопротивления, упоминались в речи, да. Две крымчанки показывали друг другу на телефонах фотки парней из числа «зеленых человечков»:

«Такой симпатичный, смотри!»

В Крыму аннексия — а что такое аннексия? Слово из книжки. Исторический смысл событий состоит, видимо, в том, что несколько миллионов человек, четверть века куковавших в чужой стране, вернулись в свою, и произошло это без пальбы и бомбардировок. Естественный исторический смысл. С точки зрения крымчанина, это вряд ли «аннексия», а ведь именно крымчанин — основной субъект произошедшего.

Повестка дня, значения слов: все другое. Даже когда слова похожи. У нас когда подписанта за Крым именуют фашистом, в этом некий, что ли, научный пафос, радость эврики: смотрите — фашист. В Крыму слово «бандеровец» по отношению к украинским правым звучало постоянно, но без фейсбучной истерики, даже без осуждения: вот море, вот собака побежала с купированным хвостом, вот бандеровец, просто констатация, ничего личного.

Дважды за неделю слышал я в Крыму уважительные слова в адрес Рамзана Кадырова (который будто бы настоятельно попросил радикальную часть крымских татар сидеть тихо). Это важный результат крымских событий — в нашем новом регионе в моде (если такое даже гостю говорится) респект-уважуха к самому перспективному молодому политику России. Мина под будущее, может, и более жирненькая, чем эскалация русского национализма. Об этом в моем фейсбуке — ноль.

А мой фейсбук, лента его пестрая, — это ум, честь и совесть нации, лидеры общественного мнения, хорошие люди + упоминавшиеся выше лучшие публицисты.

Я понимал, что мы, эфирные тела Фейсбука, есть существа надмирные и экстерриториальные, но не знал, что настолько. Медийное поле высшей пробы, в создание которого и я внес толстую лепту, вовсе не соприкасается с действительностью, ку-ку.

В Крыму я Фейсбук вообще не читал, вернувшись в Москву, по инерции приоткрыл и тут же наткнулся на запись, которая оказалась последней каплей.

Эта запись принадлежала Сереже Кузнецову, тоже видному герою «Голода», автору, которого я два десятилетия читаю с большим интересом. Сережа — из тех субъектов медиасферы, кто не позволяет себе разнузданного тона, не участвует в травле «фашистов» и способен к рассуждениям крупной шинковки; воплощение, так сказать, позитивной стороны явления.

Начало записи было примерно таким: вот, дескать, говорят, что народ заслуживает свое правительство. Но какой считать народ? Тот, что сейчас, или в динамике? А дальше нужно было нажать на «еще», и там наверняка Сережа очень интересно разложил все по логике и по понятиям. Совершенно точно будет остроумно и, возможно, даже справедливо, и я получу удовольствие от текста.

И я понял вдруг, что мне абсолютно безразлично, заслуживаю ли я, как россиянин, своего правительства, или заслуживаю его только как современник, или не заслуживаю вообще. Не точка зрения Кузнецова неинтересна, а в принципе сам вопрос. Как и аффилированный с ним и неразрешенный со времени агеевского «Конспекта о кризисе» вопрос о вине Достоевского в слезинке ребенка. Я могу вернуться к этой дискуссии, когда выйду на пенсию, вряд ли она сильно продвинется.

Проблематика, к которой мы привыкли за десятилетия: вот, она никуда не приложима. И инструменты культурологические — тоже.

Предисловие к книжке — не совсем место для глобальных обобщений. Наверное, я к ним и не готов. Фейсбучный голодный пир, продемонстрировавший, в какие мышиные возни легко превращается ризоматичнейшая технология: доказывает ли это косвенно, что что-то не так в самой постмодернистской идее, в глобальном диалоге, в надежде на горизонтальные связи, которые при поддержке невидимой руки рынка сами вырулят в страну добра?

Может быть, постмодернизм совершает тот же тип ошибки, что совершил коммунизм: красные товарищи «недооценивали» привязанность человека к собственности, ну а мы недооцениваем его привязанность к вертикальному мышлению, к желанию верховодить и в беседе, и вне беседы, стоять выше на ступеньках хоть какой-то пирамиды?

В собственном быту, конечно, от принципов отказываться не обязательно. В идее открытых медиаплощадок дискуссионного момента для меня нет, горизонтальные системы представляются естественным способом организации сущего, а то, что с этим способом проблемы возникают, — ну так даже с любимой девушкой бывают проблемы, что же.

Надо, однако, трезво осознавать масштаб и смысл этих проблем.

Рост городского населения, количества пользователей интернета считается расширением социальной базы либерального, горизонтального, толерантного общества. Будет интернет в каждой школе — будущий казак просветится что твой голландец и не перемотнет нагайкой гомосексуала и лесбиянку. Так же и при развитом социализме считалось, что рост таких-то и таких-то графиков очищает от собственнических инстинктов.

Но в интернете человек тот же, что и за его пределами. Число сообществ, в которых работает любезный нам диалогический язык, расти не будет, а будет, напротив, сокращаться: просвещенное население воспроизводится, вы знаете, хуже непросвещенного. Хуже того: просвещенное население, формально поднимая на щит идею равноправного диалога, на практике тоже осознает ее в основном как способ продвигать монолог, а к гомофобу еще более нетерпимо, чем гомофоб к гомосексуалу.

Это значит, принципы недостаточно закрепить в голове и в сердце прочными карабинами. Жизнь течет, предметы меняют очертания, принципам нужно подвинчивать гаечки, протирать пролежни.

Собственно говоря, встать на позицию крымчан в истории с перебуториванием их земель — это как раз позиция постмодернистская (понять интерес Другого), либеральная (уважить меньшинство; крымчанам объединение выгодно, остальным россиянам не очень, что же, будем терпеть неудобства во славу толерантности). Но чтобы переключить позиции, пришлось прилететь на место происшествия; то есть в автоматическом режиме принцип срабатывает далеко не всегда, его каждый раз нужно прикладывать заново. Это тоже вписывается в п/м-концепцию пляшущего контекста, но успевать за плясками на практике — труд.

Агеев чуял подвох давно: про те же журналы, что я читал на уралмашевской кухне, он писал в 1989-м в ивановской газете, что не очень-то и стоит ликовать по поводу их гиннессовских тиражей (под два миллиона у «Нового мира», больше миллиона у «Дружбы народов», три — у «Юности»). Что на Пастернака ныне накинулись ровно те же глотатели букв, что упивались раньше Пикулем, к которому, возможно, позже благополучно и вернутся или перепрыгнут на какое-то грядущее чтиво, и весь этот процесс независимо от того, какого качества тексты в нем задействованы, есть прежде всего порождение шума и суеты вместо того, чтобы работать.

Вот что еще писал тогда Саша:

«Литература, как это всегда было в России, превращается в некий наркотик для “лучших” людей... То, что состав этого нового наркотика — правда, дела не меняет. Не все ли равно, от чего “балдеть” — от истины или от лжи. Жизнь-то не меняется» .

Спустя дюжину лет он цитировал это в «Голоде», полагая, что уж теперь-то сам-то смог выкатиться из-под наркотического колеса. А я еще через чертову дюжину примерно теми же словами описываю уже эффект воздействия «Голода» и Фейсбука, полагая, что теперь-то уж точно смогу дистанцироваться.

Пугающая круговерть, конечно.