The bread is one

How much nervousness, how many panic questions to each other, how many diverse black -handed humor. "I'll go for the last time I buy Mozarella." "For the last time I have a bottle of Kyanti, Il, an excited Facebook, for the last time. "I'll go for the last time I will cook Italian coffee." "I am singing for the last time" ...

Well, for the last time you. “Bringing the hand of hunger” is a formula, of course, powerful, but in this case, I hope that we are still not talking about this hand.

About hunger, present, I heard a lot from my parents. I myself, thank God, did not know. I grew up in conditions of great deficit, during the years of the great line.

The years of this famine are the years of collectivization, the years of the war, the years of the blockade - did not leave rich folklore. Which is understandable. But the era of the deficit - the era of my childhood and youth, the era, when they did not "bought", but "got" - was marked by the lush flowering of a laughing folklore. The famine then was different - visual, aesthetic. The very type of shelves, with kindergarten chic, laid down by banks with an alluring inscription "Breakfast of a tourist" ("Purista", as we joked), insulted his vision.

And the hunger literally, I am sure, will not be now - because the authorities do not need it. Yes, and I think it will not be relative. Because, as one smart person said, the revolutions are not hungry, but those who have not fed for two days.

The current superiors are quite enough for another hunger - informational, ideological, aesthetic, moral. But there is no food, it will not be. And even if his bony hand once again climbs to our sips, then cursed by the patriotic masses of the civilized world will once again feed the creators of high ratings - not the first time. The modern world, you know, sometimes knows how to approximately punish international lousers, but reflexively sympathizes with individual people.

It will feed, but, I think, it will not be too surprised when the slightly shifting citizens, crumbling, will say that the food could be more tasty and you will choke on your “bush legs” - only harm and cholesterol are from them.

So this is not an attack on the stomachs, no. This is another offensive - this time in its very visual and very understandable meaning for many - to freedom of choice.

The conversations that, they say, maybe nothing, maybe something will be, that after all, the Australian beef and really rubbish, and Coca-Cola and really poison, and some domestic products are not so bad-all these conversations are appropriate only when you are not deprived of your choice.

For example, I love domestic kvass. But imagine, it is important for me that in the store a side with this kvass stood an unloved coca-cola. I love, for example, a doctoral sausage. And since childhood. I love it and all - I have the right. And the Italian Mortadella is not very. But it is impressive to me that of these two, three, twenty -eight sausages I choose one.

There are people who are psychologically unable. And these people are likely not to notice anything. And they most likely will not be hungry. Well, for now at least.

I well remember how our premature capitalism began, when the windows of the central streets suddenly flashed with a Christmas brilliance, how unprecedented overseas things appeared in them. These windows have become an important test of readiness for modern life. Some, as for me, for example, these windows visually delighted me, despite the fact that, as well as the vast majority of fellow citizens, these miracles were absolutely inaccessible. And others, precisely because of inaccessibility, that these windows were terribly annoyed and drove into longing. But there are people for whom diversity, including commodity, is a necessary condition for existence.

In the modern world, in which someone likes it or not - we still live, sacred and inalienable, the right of a wide and conscious choice - political, aesthetic, informational, sexual. Gastronomic - too. Diversity is a necessary background of the existence of a modern person.

I'm not afraid that they will leave me without food. I am afraid that they will leave me without a choice. I do not buy and do not consume most of the products that my gaze in the supermarket slides past. And I want to not buy them further. But not because they are not, but because they are.

They do not want to deprive us of food. They want to deprive us of a choice. And freedom in its simplest sense - this is precisely the freedom of choice. Food including. Totalitarianism - explicit or creeping - is certainly accompanied by commodity poverty and aesthetic squalor.

This story with "food sanctions", in addition to the economic and political aspects, has an aspect, so to speak, humanitarian, symbolic. And it is clear why, even against the background of diverse and bizarre, to put it mildly, events of recent times, it is this topic that looks somehow especially convex.

The attack on political, public, information freedom, unfortunately, is far from all. The situation is different with food. Because throughout our recent history, in addition to the very last years, there has always been a "food issue" - it was unshakable, like a pillar on which the "food program was strengthened - to life."

Some, especially those famous for their pious asceticism, leading church comrades call us to self -restraint . Not by bread, like, one ... Well, it’s kind of good matter. A cultural person constantly sets the boundaries of his own needs and claims, including material ones. But when the jailer sticks a bowl of Balanda in the camera window and at the same time says something instructive about the benefits of self -restraint - this, you see, is something completely different.