Acquaintances and strangers alike say the same thing to me. They say: you write here, explain how bad everything is and why, but what positive thing do you propose? What do you yourself even know that needs to be done? I answer—of course I know, I just won’t tell you (partly joking). It’s just that positive programs really go far beyond the framework in which I work. In Popular Virology you can’t tell people what we should do, and besides, our media are categorically unsuited for this. When a person starts presenting a positive program, nobody will believe they’re simply a good person on their own—everyone immediately starts figuring out “whose side they are on,” and the media immediately demands money from them “for politics and PR.” I still prefer it the other way around—not paying the media, but getting paid by them, especially since for me this is the only source of income.
Nevertheless, within the framework of our ongoing conversations, I will try to formulate my prescription very simply. For the various critics out there, I will say right away that this is my prescription, with emphasis on the word “my.” It may be correct or not, but only practice can verify this.
Aggressive Solitude
So, what exactly is the problem, and what affliction will we have to deal with when creating this prescription? The affliction is in our people—in those habits, stereotypes, mentality, national character, and national dreams (those who wish can continue the list) that prevent us from all living together on one territory. Individually, Ukrainians are always great. Especially outside Ukraine, far from their compatriots. They achieve success there, and legends are told about them at home: “Look, these are our people!” Yeah, sure—these are “your” people. Only where would they be if they had stayed here with you—you would have eaten them alive. In general—it’s a disaster. We can’t live together.
The next question. What is the name of that thing that actually prevents us from living together? Actually, this is not a simple task. You have to choose from many definitions, find the main quality from which all others derive.
I will try to explain my choice with examples. In our lives, there are places that seem specially designed for judging national character. Usually these “places” are associated with fairly extreme manifestations of public life. For example, the automobile. A thing that is exclusively extreme—not long ago “not a luxury but a means of transportation,” it has today become accessible to the average Ukrainian. But at the same time, the automobile is still a symbol of prestige. This duality—accessibility and prestige—is what creates that extremely convenient borderline state for research, in which national character is revealed most fully. So, what does the Ukrainian automobile speak of most vividly? What diagnosis does it give to the nation? Judge for yourselves. Cars, despite the crisis, are sold in large numbers. In Kyiv, it has long been impossible to drive because of traffic jams, but this doesn’t stop Ukrainians. They buy cars not for convenience. They buy them for other reasons. What reasons?
Once the author of these lines took a small car trip along the Kyiv sea. I was struck by the abundance of expensive foreign cars standing almost to the roof in trash, which by habit is still called a forest. Meanwhile, from each of these foreign cars came what some people call music, creating maximum inconvenience for everyone nearby. Personally, I cannot imagine how one can rest under such conditions. But they do rest, out of spite for enemies and despite everything. Ukrainians, as we can see, exist for each other only as an “environment” that should evaluate the “coolness” of each individual Ukrainian. That is why they go to rest on the trash heap in their expensive jeeps, gather there in huge numbers, and carefully do not notice each other, deafening everyone with various sonic garbage. When they drive to and from this “rest,” they cannot help but crash into each other, because Ukrainians are incapable of following rules, because rules presuppose equality before them. But I cannot be equal, because I have such a car… [after the accident]… Oh, you say something was driving here? This was driving? In that car? The risk to one’s own life and others’ lives is apparently much less than one’s own “coolness.” On a stretch of about 30 kilometers, how many accidents do you think I encountered? I answer—six. And this was in the middle of the day, when there are not as many drunk drivers yet.
Second example. When, last autumn and winter, the new “activities” of crisis-frightened Ukrainians began to emerge, I followed them quite carefully, precisely in order to find out how truly new they were. In fact, I even attended a couple of activists’ meetings. And here’s what I will tell you. People who had no political experience whatsoever, who in theory should not have been infected with the ailments of our political class, differed little from “Yulia” or “Yanukovich.” I remember, at some point they discussed the participation of one organization in some joint action with other organizations. During the discussion, those present were most concerned with the fact that the organizers would get PR, at our expense, rather than with how much the organizers’ demands coincided with the demands of the other participants in the action.
In general, my conclusion is in the title of this section. This—is aggressive solitude.
Drinking—Fight
The cause of this aggressive solitude—is fear. Fear of the stranger. Ukrainians are afraid of each other. It is for this reason they walk with such vicious faces on the street. It is for this reason they are incapable of uniting. It is for this reason they trust the state more than each other—and this trust in the seemingly so-hated “authorities” only grows. It is for this reason they so crave a “strong hand,” which would finally do something to them themselves and to the enemies they have invented. Fear makes Ukrainians fight for status, buy expensive “whips” and “rest” on the trash heap, defending their personal space with loud sounds. Aggressive solitude, aggressive ignoring of each other’s existence has fear as its cause.
Therefore my prescription is simple. The first remedy against fear—is information. This is data about others and, as a consequence, discovering that perhaps they differ little from you. This task is solved by getting acquainted. Acquaintance is impossible without common cause, or at least an imitation of common cause, creating unusual, extreme conditions in which a stranger can reveal themselves and show that they are “one of us.” Let us note that the tradition of drinking together, as a way to get acquainted, solves precisely this task—the imitation of common cause. Alcohol inevitably alters a person’s sense of reality—they find themselves in an extreme situation with unfamiliar people, they go through a kind of ritual, a test of ability to be one of us. I don’t know how it is now, but until recently, among the most textbook carriers of our mentality—officials of the small and medium rank—acquaintance “over drinks” was obligatory, and “being one of us” was often determined precisely by the amount of alcohol consumed together.
Of course, the whole country cannot sit down and get drunk with each other. However, this is also unnecessary. Much more important is common cause. Common cause, as a way to finally get acquainted and try to start trusting each other.
That is why I say—condominiums, territorial communities, elimination of housing offices…