Long ago, the author of these lines ran for deputy in one of the electoral campaigns. Back then, “Russian political technologists” were all the rage, and our “oligarch” who bankrolled the whole operation imported a few of them. Coincidentally, the feature film The Lord of the Rings premiered around the same time. So off we went to the premiere — future deputies and political technologists alike. After the film ended and the audience filed out, one of the political technologists suddenly launched into a speech. It came down to how cleverly the West constructs its propaganda (and for the record, these were “liberal” political technologists), so that it can achieve its goals with impunity. This take on the film surprised me, admittedly, but I was even more surprised by the reaction of my fellow party members. It was something like: “So what?” They listened attentively, nodded politely, and went about their business.
Interestingly, shortly before that, I had come across a book by a certain Perumov about how Sauron was good and the elves were evil. Comrade Perumov spent all three volumes convincing the reader of this. I gave up after two, because I kept asking myself the same question — “so what?” I simply could not fathom the motivation of someone who can arrange letters into words quite well — why he was engaged in this nonsense. Invent your own world and go wild in it as you please. You’re talented, you’ll succeed, you’ll make a fortune. Why this mockery of Tolkien? And yet, from the text you can clearly see that the author himself wants to prove, to himself and the reader, that “in reality” the fictional (!) history of a fictional (!) world was nothing like what Tolkien wrote, and that the elves were evil and Sauron was framed.
Then came the “time travelers,” who turned into an entire genre (I didn’t read any of it, just heard about it), and around the same time, it became quite easy to tell Russians from Ukrainians on forums. American films with happy endings, or films about heroes saving the world, served as litmus tests. In my observations, Russian “internet users” went into hysterics far more often when shown a picture of Batman than Ukrainians did. Want to know who’s in front of you? Show them Batman. Or Captain America. The reaction “ty, nu i sho?” identified a Ukrainian; hysterics meant a Russian.
For me, this was a fascinating phenomenon, and since I lack specialized humanitarian education, the concept of moral relativism (the relativity of good and evil) was still unfamiliar to me. Comrades from Russia introduced me to this remarkable idea. I can say that in my opinion, this very moral relativism is the foundation of what we now know as the ideology of the “Russian world.” Worlds like Tolkien’s, in which good and evil are clearly delineated, throw the moral relativist into a state of panic and aggression. He will argue himself blue in the face that “in reality, everything was different!” — that good is evil, and evil is good. He hates “pindosy” precisely because American culture doesn’t fuss about these questions; for it, evil must be punished. The Russkiy Mir adherent, however, will love and cherish evil, because “in reality” — it’s good, and only he understands this.
One could say this is a psychological defense mechanism — calling white black, because otherwise you’d have to admit that you live like a slave in a rather unfree country. But what’s interesting here is that these phenomena started long ago, and as far as I can tell from recent Russian history, the late nineties hadn’t yet sunk into full-blown marasmus. At the very least, today’s bans on lace underwear and searches for pornography on banknotes would have seemed like utter idiocy back then. That is, the causes and effects — as best I can judge — suggest that Putin is still a reflection of what the Russian people believe about the reality surrounding them, rather than some kind of special oppressor foisted upon them from outside.
And here we come to another important point I want to make. Good and evil manifest themselves in action, in a person’s choices. This one acted well, that one — badly, and the one who previously acted well has now acted badly. There is no immanent good and evil. So the crucial point is this: if you are a moral relativist, you need to invent elaborate schemes every time to explain to yourself and others that “in reality everything was different.” These schemes can be complex and sprawling (you need three volumes to explain how the elves framed Sauron). Over time, these very schemes begin to dictate your picture of reality, and I think I’m safe in saying that moral relativism in practice always leads to the justification and affirmation of evil.
A simple example. Ukrainians overthrow Sauron — forgive me, Yanukovych. What did we regularly hear from Russia? “What are you doing, are you mad! In reality, Sauron is good!” Then usually followed long explanations of why he was good, and that it was all arranged by the pindosy.
These are two completely different attitudes toward reality. For a Ukrainian, it doesn’t matter into which scheme Sauron has been placed, whether he’s considered “good” or evil — what matters is how Sauron acts. If he acts like Sauron, that is, badly, then the reaction will be appropriate, without any multilayered philosophizing. For the Russkiy Mir adherent, however, his scheme is what matters — the one where everything is already laid out, and by which he evaluates what happens in his life.
And finally. I’ll be told that evaluating good and bad is impossible without criteria, and that this too is just a “scheme.” To some extent, that’s true. On the other hand, the struggle for one’s picture of the world is inherent to any person, and that is also true. The whole question, as I see it, is on what basis the criteria for evaluation are built. The “scheme” of a healthy person is very simple: “What if they did this to me?” The scheme of an unhealthy person is complex, multilayered, and in it there are almost always higher interests that cancel out the principle of “what if they did this to me.” That is all the difference. And, judging by the consequences, this is the most essential difference.