THE RUSSIAN
LANGUAGE IN POST-SOVIET
“We Are All Hostages of The Mystery
of Our Soul…”
Alevtina Kuzicheva
Many
studies devoted to contemporary
Not long before their
deaths, two Russian poets belonging to different generations summed up their
distressing results as follows:
I am weary
of the twentieth century,
Of its blood-stained
rivers, –
I do not need
human rights,
I’ve long since
ceased to be human.
[Ya ustal ot
dvadtsatogo veka,
Ot ego
okrovavlennykh rek,
I ne nado mne
prav cheloveka,
Ya davno uzhe ne chelovek.]
(Vl. Sokolov)
Like poplar
trees in winter,
Russian words
have become
Blacker than the
earth lying
At the bottom of
a ditch,
In the mouth of
darkness itself.
Going home from
the metro,
Across syntax
that is crippled,
We walk through
a sludge of words,
And shiver as we
repeat them.
[I stali russkie
slova
kak topolia
zimoi
chernei zemli v
otvalakh rva
vo rtu u t’my
samoi.
Mezh nimi
sliakotno guliat’,
ikh ziabko
povtoriat’
dorogoi ot metro
domoi
skvoz’ sintaksis
khromoi.]
(V. Krivulin)
In their study of
contemporary
First, “the study of the
relationship between language and culture and, in particular, between language
and ‘national character’ suffered in the past as much from its friends
(certainly not less) as from its enemies. <…> The time has come when
‘dangerous’ but exceptionally important and profoundly attractive questions,
such as those discussed here, must once again take center stage in the field of
linguistics.”[16]
Secondly, the nature of this
“linguistic revolution” is different from what it was in the 1920’s and 1930’s.
What distinguishes it is not so much the appearance of new words as new
meanings and new uses for old words.
Third, the linguistic
explosion encompasses all layers of Russian speech. Therefore, everything is
open to study and investigation: literature, the language of mass media, jokes,
rhymed doggerel [chastushka]. This
even includes argot, since, in the opinion of one researcher, it “encapsulates
language <…> everyday life, social relations, social and individual
psychology and culture in the broadest sense of the word.”[17]
The author insists that “argot reflects culture not in its frozen but in its
dynamic state. <…> Argot is the blueprint of a culture in the future.”[18]
The main theme of Russian argot is the fate of Ivan the Fool [Ivanushka-durachok], who “invariably
succeeds not by taking action, which is associated with cunning,
resourcefulness, etc., <…> but because of his good-heartedness and
kindness <…> which are associated with laziness, slovenliness and dreamy
indecisiveness [oblomovshchina]
<…>. These qualities represent, in their turn, the negative value side of
the Russian national character in Russian culture and Russian argot.”[19]
Turning to the constants of
Russian culture[20],
to the stereotypes of cognition and behavior, demarcating and linking the
traditions of culture and ethnos, scholars agree on one point: “it is
exceedingly difficult (if not impossible) to draw at the present time anything
at all like the full picture of the consequences for the Russian language of
the turning point represented by the contemporary period, <…> when that
which is stable is shattered, and when that which is new feverishly seeks to
find its place in the sun. Finding its place, it is strengthened and
consolidated, while, in many cases, it disappears with hardly a trace.
<…> The functional field with its chief dominants “russkii” and
“rossiiskii” is not infrequently utilized for purely ideological purposes.”[21]
The prevailing attitude
towards changes in the Russian language is much the same as that towards social
phenomena: it ranges from academic-contemplative acceptance to an emotional
rejection of the “new language” [novoiaz],
i.e. the “new speech” [novorech’],
even going so far as to call for putting the Russian language on the List of
Endangered Species. Similarly, assessment has ranged from “an end of speech
culture”, “language gone to seed”, and “cutting oneself off from one’s mother
tongue” to “democratization of speech culture”. This degeneration into a joke
may be compared with the diagnosis of witch doctors from the fairy tale “The
Golden Key” [Zolotoi kliuchik]: “The
patient is more dead than alive… The patient is more alive than dead…”
Yet, in the acutely real
crisis of the contemporary Russian language, brought about by profound and
radical political, economic and psychological changes in the life of our
society, there are symptoms, signs and phenomena which call for especial
attention. What are they? First and foremost, the fact that colloquial Russian
has pushed and continues to push the literary language aside. In connection
with this, the concept of a “full style” [polnyi
stil’] has changed, involving the relationship between everyday language
and public speech genres, on the one hand, and written and oral discourse, on
the other. Literary norms have been severely shaken. Linguistic taste has been
distorted.
If we consider the process
of self-consciousness and self-identification as urgent problems affecting not
only theoretical knowledge but life itself,
the psychology of society and the psychology of the individual, we may
characterize the speech situation of contemporary
1.
Many words abolished in 1917 have come back
into use, namely, “gubernator” (governor), “Duma” (Russian parliament),
“litsei” (lycée), “guvernyor” (tutor), “yunker” (cadet), “gimnaziia” (prep
school), “gospoda” (gentlemen), “chastnik” (proprietor or someone engaged in
private business), “birzha” (stock exchange), “traktir” (tavern), “makler”
(broker), etc.
2.
On the other hand, words introduced into
Russian after 1917, in particular, “voskresnik” (so-called “voluntary” Sunday
work), “piatiletka” (Five-Year Plan), “sotssorevnovanie” (socialist
competition), “udarnik” (shock worker), “maiaki” (leading lights), “rost
blagosostoianiia” (growth of prosperity), etc., have gone out of use.
3.
The new social hierarchy is reflected by the
language: “nizy” (the lower classes), “riadovye liudi” (ordinary folk),
“obyvateli” (common people), “prostye liudi” (simple folk), “narod” (the
people), “predprinimateli” (entrepreneurs), “delovye liudi” (business people),
“vysokie sfery” (the higher spheres), “vysshie sloi” (the higher strata),
“eshelony vlasti” (the echelons of power), “koridory vlasti” (the corridors of
power), “elita” (elite), “bomond” (beau monde).
It
appears that any moment now they’ll reintroduce the old "Table of
Ranks". But the theme of the “little man” and of the “important person”,
one of the pervasive and “eternal” themes of the Russian classics, has already
made its appearance in contemporary literature. The new hierarchy of social
values has manifested itself in changes affecting lower-case and capital
letters: “oktiabr'skaia revoliutsiia” (October Revolution) has been demoted to
lower-case status, while “Bank” (bank) has been elevated to the status of
capital letters in the world of advertising. The words “konstitutsiia”
(constitution) and “prezident” (president) are spelt either way – capitalized
or not. At the same time, “Bog” (God), “Paskha” (Easter) and “Rozhdestvo”
(Christmas) are always capitalized (as noted by a scholar: in 1918 “they
secretly banned it”. Today “they have silently permitted it”). At the same time, it seems, people have even
begun writing “Bogi” (gods) with a capital letter.
4.
Driven by a passion for sovereignty and
apologetics for the “new reality”, politicians and journalists have converted
many singular words into plural forms: “kapitaly” (capital), “administratsii”
(administration), “ekonomiki” (economies), “struktury” (structures), “kredity”
(credits) or “mafii” (Mafia). Many abstract nouns have also become plural:
“stressy” (stresses), “initsiativy” (initiatives), “riski” (risks),
“antagonizmy” (antagonisms), “tekhnologii” (technologies), “ekranizatsii”
(filmings). This redundancy is noticeable in wealth of words formed with
prefixes: “ul’tra” (ultra), “trans” (trans), “super” (super), “mul’ti” (multi),
“sverkh” (over). The shadow of Gogol’s Khlestakov has appeared today: “There is
a watermelon, for example, on the table – a watermelon costing 700 rubles. Soup
in a tureen has arrived directly from
5.
A Russian is in such a hurry nowadays to have
his say that he rushes head-on. That is why he misuses the conjunction “i”
(and): e.g., “i khochu skazat’” (and I want to say); “i ya, kak” (and I,
like…), etc. That explains the characteristic practice of truncating certain
words: “bespredel” (lawlessness, violence, literally: unbounded), “intim” (a
cozy situation) , “naiv” (naiveté), “otstoi” (misfortune, something repugnant),
“neitral” (indifference), “beznal” (non-cash transfer), “nominal” (face-value),
“marginal” (person living on the fringes of society), “otpad” (something
wonderful or terrific, literally: a fainting fit), “oblom” (failure,
misfortune, literally: breaking off), “napriag” (pressure, tension). This also
accounts for certain phrases and word combinations that merge into one word by
means of the suffixes “-ik”, “-ka” and “-ukha”: e.g., “tenevik” (dealer in
shadow economy), “birzhevik” (stock broker), “nalichka” (cash on hand),
“sotsialka” (Social Security), “strashilka” (scary story), “oboronka” (defense
industry), “pornukha” (pornography), “chernukha” (art or literature showing the darker side of life, gratuitous
sex and violence), “gruppovukha” (group sex), “zakazukha” (murder for hire),
“mokrukha” (murder, literally: wet business). Using a word uttered by a hero of
Bulgakov, we may say that the present age is “hacking out” [urezaet] words in an outrageous fashion.
6.
Or, on the contrary, our age augments words
scandalously and thereby adds a dubious nuance: “pristegnut’” (to attach, to
drag in), “prolobbirovat’” (to lobby), “prikupit’” (to purchase something in
addition), “poimet’” (to exploit). Speech has become contaminated with a
plethora of parenthetical expressions formed with words like “skazat'” (say)
and “govorit'” (speak): “sobstvenno govoria” (properly speaking), “kak my
skazali” (as we have already said), “mozhno skazat'” (it can be said), “tak
skazat'” (so to say), etc. Or we are dazzled by the interminable use of common
particles (such as “uzh”, “nu”) or by incorrect prepositions: “situatsiia s
NTV” (the situation with NTV), “ideia so
stadionom” (the idea about the stadium). This speech shocks us with its
bureaucratic, verbal “steamroller”: for instance, “mery po detiam”
(ungrammatical Russian, something like “measures with children”), “rabota po
rynkam” (work on markets). Passers-by, members of Parliament, TV and radio
announcers “scream and holler” without a break, with no sense of proportion,
often showing bad taste or little sense.
7.
Everyone admits that contemporary Russian
speech, culture, literature and journalism have become vulgarized and
criminalized. Many people are outraged by it. It is parodied everywhere. Many
relish its use, while many others wince at it and feel dejected on account of
it. Nevertheless, the criminal and non-normative lexicon has, unfortunately,
already been adopted as the norm by nearly all layers of Russian society.
Everyone uses words like “ment” (cop), “shmon” (frisking), “nishtiak” (not bad,
no problem), “mochit'” (to kill), “babki” (money), “v nature” (really,
actually), “kusok” (a thousand rubles), “kozyol” (bastard, scoundrel,
literally: a goat), “bashli” (money), “blin” (Damn it!, literally: a pancake),
“zapadlo” (worthless person, literally: a dead animal), “bazar” (noise, commotion,
quarrel), “obshchak” (criminal fund), “razborka” (a quarrel, a fight), “bratki”
(gangsters, pals), “krysha” (Mafia or underworld protection), “tyolka” (girl or
girlfriend), “nesoznanka” (irresponsibility), “lokh” (country bumpkin,
provincial, fool), “khaliava” (something free or given gratis), “kiriat'” (to
drink alcohol), etc. Politicians and Duma deputies refer to each other,
exclusively, whether orally or in writing, as “nedoumki” (half-wits),
“spekulianty” (profiteers), “pridurki” (fools), “svoloch'” (swine), “drian'”
(rubbish), “s"ezdiuki” (delegates to the People’s Congress, by wordplay on
“s”ezd”, that is, congress, and “pizdiuk”, an f-word), “khamkommunisty”
(boorish Communists), “oppuzitsionery” (fatso oppositionists), etc.
The
draft of the law entitled “On the Russian Language”, which has been proposed
for the
And
this tendency is not slackening. In the opinion of scholars, “the ‘acrobats of
the pen’ are already into their second decade of celebrating their carnival of
verbal freedom on the pages of the Russian press. Certain extremes are
characteristic of this holiday as of any
carnival: the traditional thresholds of bravado, the criteria of what is
permissible, have been dramatically lowered, decency and norms of behavior are
forgotten, thieves' cant enters the language, people juggle words with abandon,
introducing foreign words into their lexicon and experimenting with their own.
As in politics, economics and culture, the norms become increasingly freer in
language,”[22]
and it is fitting to repeat what a well-known artist has said: “It’s OK for a
swindler or thief // Or an alcoholic and
drug addict. // But not a teacher or a prosecutor, // Or announcers from the TV
screen!” [Nu, ladno b zhulik, ili vor, // Il’ alkashi i narkomany, // No
pedagog, no prokuror, // No diktory s teleekrana!] (E. Vesnik).
8.
The abundance of foreign words, altered and
adapted for this “new language” [novoiaz],
is one of the most noteworthy symptoms of this linguistic situation: “shopnik”
(shopper), “girla” (girl), “piar” (PR), “suare” (soirée), “shuzy” (shoes),
“strit” (street), “griny” (greenbacks). A pastiche of Pushkin’s “Tale of Tsar
Saltan” (Skazka o tsare Saltane)
parodies this new language: “Three girls [girlitsy]
under a window [vindom] // Were
spinning yarn late in the evening [ivningom].
// If I were a queen [kingitsa], //
Says the first girl [Spichet fyorstaia
girlitsa], // I’d give birth to a superman [supermena] // For the father-king [fazera-kinga].” [Tri girlitsy
pod vindom // Priali pozdno ivningom. // Kaby ya byla kingitsa, // Spichet fyorstaia girlitsa, –
// Ya b dlia fazera-kinga // Supermena b rodila.] Whether real or
anecdotal, it has been reported that when kindergarten children were asked to
name the planets, they answered in unison: “Mars” and “Snickers”.
9.
New substantive adjectives convey in their own
way the stratification of society. Occupying a place of honor and a great
favorite is the word “zelyonye” (green), i.e. dollars and their owners. These
owners are called “the new Russians” [novye
russkie] and “cool and powerful” [krutye], i.e. rich, influential and
mighty. A newspaper published a flitting reference to an anecdotal case: In
school, pupils were asked to form a sentence using the words “malysh” (little
boy), “sanki” (toboggan), “gorka” (hill), “krutoi” (steep), “s"ekhal”
(went down). [The teacher expected them to write "Malysh s"ekhal na
sankakh s krutoi gorki" (The boy went down a steep hill on a toboggan).]
The pupils wrote instead: "Krutoi malysh s"ekhal na sankakh s
gorki" (The cool boy went down a hill on a toboggan). [They used the word
“krutoi” in the new sense of “cool, militant, powerful”.] And the reverse – the
word combination “novye bednye” (“the new poor”) sounds derogatory.
10. The
sphere of use of a given word undergoes active change. We used to have the
words “defitsit” (shortage) and “zona” (zone). This has now yielded: “defitsit
vlasti” (shortage of rule or authority) and “zona bedstviia” (zone of
disaster). Words of “narrow” usage have turned into the phantoms, mirages and
horrors of the new society: “okhrana” (security service), “apparat”
(apparatus), “avtoritet” (authority), “igla” (drugs, literally: needle),
“kolyosa” (pills, drugs, literally: wheels), “krysha” (Mafia protection,
literally: a roof), “zhit’ po poniatiiam” (criminal argot: to live according to
one’s own set of rules). Many words are used as labels with a broad meaning,
for instance: “fashizm” (fascism), “totalitarizm” (totalitarianism),
“liberalizm” (liberalism), “demokratiia” (democracy), “oprichnik KGB” (a KGB
official), “kommunisticheskoe boloto” (the Communist swamp).
And so, the linguistic
explosion is obvious, acknowledged and recognized by all. Speech may perhaps
reveal the mood of society and of the individual more precisely and more fully
than the questionnaires of sociologists and the tests of psychologists. Contemporary
Russian speech reveals to us a state of social tension, or to quote Pushkin,
“the noise of the inner disquiet” [shum
vnutrennei trevogi], which settles in the soul of an ordinary person after
a catastrophe, misfortune or an irreversible change.
Oral speech did not retain
words tainted by association with the new regime: “uskorenie” (acceleration),
“vaucher” (voucher), “glasnost’” (glasnost), “pliuralizm” (pluralism). Oral
speech always reveals the key words of a given moment of life as it
swiftly changes: “rynok” (the free market), “vyzhivat’” (to survive), “chelnok”
(merchant who buys goods abroad and sells them in Russia, literally: a
shuttle), “tusovka” (a get-together), “bespredel” (lawlessness, violence,
literally: unbounded), “korruptsiia” (corruption), “biudzhetnik” (a person paid
from the State budget, e.g., a teacher), “killer” (contract killer), “sponsor”
(sponsor). One of the most characteristic is the word “igra” (game or
gambling), even “Igra” (Game or Gambling). In spite of the fact that folklore
and centuries-old experience warn us of its dangers with proverbs and sayings:
“Gambling is a traitor. The bludgeon is your friend!” [Igra predatel’, a kisten’ drug!]; “You can’t win at gambling
without a lot of cunning!” [V igre ne bez
khitrosti!]; “to play like a cat with
a mouse” [igraet kak kot s myshkoi];
“gambling will lead to no good” [igra ne
dovedyot do dobra].
The distrust by contemporary
man of the shallow promises and speeches made by politicians and bureaucrats,
who have assumed the levers of power and mastered the new demagogic style, has
expressed itself in the negative use of words such as “spravedlivost'”
(justice), “avtoritet” (authority), “pravda” (truth), “trud” (labor), in
self-disparaging definitions such as “rabotiaga” (hard worker), “dokhodiaga”
(goner), “marginaly” (people living on the fringes of society), “vyzhivaly”
(survivors), etc., as well as in malicious wordplay: e.g., “kradonachal’nik”
(thief-boss), “treportazh” (babble-report), “volcherizatsiia” (wolf-voucher
authorization), “yel’tsinizm” (Yeltsinism), “palata mordov” (The Chamber of
Mug-Lords), “moskovskii seksomolets” (Moscow Sex-Komsomolets), “Sadomnoe
kol’tso” (Sodomy Garden Ring). This distrust is evident in the reworking of
ideological clichés of the Soviet period: “Nazad v svetloe budushchee!” (Back
to the bright future!), “Rukovodiashchaia i napravliaiushchaia gruppirovka”
(the leading and guiding group), “Vperedi planety vsei po SPIDu!” (In the
vanguard of the world-wide spread of AIDS!), “Strana dolzhna znat’ svoikh
geroev shou-biznesa!” (The country ought to know its show business heroes!).
Slips of the tongue, ungrammatical blunders, and empty promises by politicians
have been transformed into sarcastic aphorisms: "Protsess poshyol!"
(unidiomatic Russian, something like “The process is on its way!”) by M.
Gorbachev, "Mat' russkaia, a otets yurist" (My mother is Russian and
my father is a lawyer) by V. Zhirinovskii, “Khoteli kak luchshe, a poluchilos’
kak vsegda" (We tried our best, but it turned out as usual) by V.
Chernomyrdin, “Liagu na rel’sy!” (I will lie down on the tracks!) by B.
Yeltsin, etc.
A lack of confidence in
today and tomorrow is evident in oral speech that abounds in parenthetic words
such as “naverno” (probably), “kazhetsia” (it seems), “mozhet byt’” (maybe),
“po vsei veroiatnosti” (most likely), “pozhalui” (perhaps), “po-vidimomu”
(apparently). In addition, the words “tam” (literally: there), “vrode”
(literally: like, about), “kakoi-to” (literally: some, a certain) are used very
widely: “Nu, tam, desiat' rublei” (Well, then, ten rubles); “Nu, tam, skazhem,
zhizni” (Well, then, let’s say life). The
words “v oblasti” (in the sphere of), “poriadka” (about or around), “v
raione” (approximately), “eto” (this, that), “otnositel’no” (relatively),
“vokrug” (around), “tak skazat’” (so to say), formerly signs of ungrammatical discourse, now lace the speech
of television personalities, journalists, politicians and bureaucrats as richly
as street lingo: (“v raione tryokh chasov” – “within the range of about three
hours”, “v oblasti planov” – “in the sphere of plans”, “poriadka okolo piati
let” – “about five years”, “skandal vokrug proslushivaniia” – “the scandal
about auditions”. The prevalence of verbal weeds in our language reveals the
low professional and educational level of today’s “elite”, its social
composition and absence of linguistic dignity.
The notorious words “kak by”
(seems to be) and “tipa” (sort of) are two universal words, which have come to
replace the word “voobshche” (generally speaking), the favorite word of the
Brezhnev stagnation period. They punctuate the speech of nearly all Russians,
from the “elite” to the “electorate”, interrupting it every other word or so.
Like a virus, it has struck all of Russian society. Everyone has come down with
it. It would be an understatement to call it a case of “semantic dislocation” [semanticheskii vyvikh]. It reveals the
times we live in better than any scientific treatise or journalistic exposé
ever could. “Kak by” and “tipa” convey the meaning expressed by such compound
words as “epokha-fantom” (phantom age), “epokha-obman” (deceptive age),
“epokha-neopredelyonnost’” (an uncertain age), “epokha-neustoichivost’” (an
unstable age) and “epokha-lovushka” (ensnaring age). Nearly everything in
This word is akin to that
“something” [nechto] that swooped
down on the City of
By analyzing book production
and contemporary genres, they noticed that the authors were conjuring up
“special effects”: “From an imitation of reality itself, literature moves to
the imitation of the process by which reality is fashioned in people's minds.
<…> Literature, reduced to the level of mass genres of transformed
reality, rejects non-technical operations such as the development of a
character’s psychology, the monitoring of the character’s dialogue with his subconscious
and research into the “procreative” possibilities [zhivorodiashchikh vozmozhnostei]
of language.”[23]
These special effects have done away not so much with aesthetic prohibitions,
as in the art of the Silver Age, as with moral ones.
The process of self-identification
is taking place today under conditions of heightened verbal theatralization of
life by mass cultural media (variety shows, show business, advertising, the
entertainment industry), pulp literature
and the mass media. The stability of Russian speech has been shattered as never
before. This is no less true of the state of mind of a person who has lost one
set of spiritual values but who has not yet accepted or understood a new set of
values foisted on him. He seeks something that is at least minimally reliable,
something that will at last give him a measure of psychological equilibrium.
Word play, semantic games, psychological games acquire in such a situation a
distinct and dangerous significance.
From the new verbal
“building material” one can, as in the children’s Lego game, construct anything
you please. Not in vain has one scholar, calling attention to this factor, used
the term “language of deception” [yazyk
obol’shcheniia]. She says: “In the semantics of names of cultural
constructions, meaning is displaced in the direction <…> of a
hypothetical recreation of the world as an object of the imagination, i.e.
moving from an attitude that seeks to reflect meaning to one that seeks to
interpret it. <…> The language of deception, as distinct from the
language of repression, is not concerned with the problem of authenticity.
<…> The language of deception constructs its object [sub’’ekt]
anew. <…> It becomes possible only when the subject [sub’’ekt] wishes to be deceived. That explains the need to stimulate
Desire.”[24]
The language of imitation
and deception is used as widely by writers as by journalists and politicians.
One literary critic concludes rather pessimistically: “Deformity and
monstrousness are inextricably bound up with
The purpose of such a
literature, in this critic’s opinion, is to serve a certain type of reader,
that is, one in whom “a cheerful appreciation
for the smooth functioning of body and soul is hardly compatible with
the broaching of metaphysical issues like the question of life and death.”[26]
Resembling theatrical props and plaster casts, such a literature, such a mass
culture concerns itself with the reader’s and viewer’s comfort level. Behind
text and image hover and can be heard two questions: “What would you like,
sir?” and “This doesn’t bother you, does it?”
As for ideology, it has
already betrayed itself. For example, literary critics have observed with alarm
the powerful torrent of so-called “edifying” literature [uchitel’skaia literatura]. Its authors offer their readers a
variety of handbooks instructing them how to lose their personal identity,
their individuality and how to acquire an “ideal impersonality”.[27]
Conducting a wake for postmodern literature, calling it a “supergame with the
reader” beyond the confines of ethics, one of the authors concluded his
farewell address with the words: “Having deconstructed the entire previous
aesthetics of classical literature and having immersed itself in total
pluralism, the literary postmodern has ended up today being stuck in a loose,
amorphous text”, in which and behind which there is nothing but emptiness.[28]
It is no accident, indeed, it is only natural that the memoirs, diaries and
autobiographies of many leading figures of culture and art represent precisely
such an example of attractive literary trash designed to meet the needs of the
gullible, undemanding reader. The writers rushed their works into print while
they were still alive in order to settle their accounts with their
contemporaries, to paint their “ideal self-portrait”, i.e. as someone who
fought the regime, as an artist who refused to compromise, as a decent human
being. Ghost writers “cook up” this trash from a collection of popular themes
and clichés in accordance with the principle of “necessary and sufficient”. The
main thing is to find a pretty title for the book, to sell it profitably, to
play with the reader, always leaving behind that same “seems to be” [kak by], that same emptiness.
And what about the reader?
The viewer? Of them a wise contemporary has compassionately said: “Disappointed
and deceived by wars and totalitarian regimes, held captive and oppressed by
the stormy, leveling development of technology, the people of the 20th century
have lost their taste for individualism. Instead, they have opted for the taste
of the masses, forgetting in the process the distinction between culture and
civilization, a situation which had already troubled Spengler. They have come
to mistake civilization and information for culture. <…> The catastrophic
shortage of spiritual culture – notwithstanding the level of civilization –
manifests itself in an impoverished emotional life, in a lack of moral
discrimination, in the immaturity and oppressed state of personal
self-consciousness, which yields easily in such a situation to social pressure
and to the rule of circumstances.”[29]
While some hope that culture
will find a path “between the Scylla of a bourgeois triumph and the Charybdis
of sterile scandal-mongering,”[30]
others point out that “our country is parting with its ‘literary civilization’
and is returning to an oral culture. <…> Oral culture belongs to
television, and there it is not the Word that is of moment, no more so than it
is in society.”[31]
Literature as art [i.e. imaginative literature – Tr.] no longer defines the
level of speech culture of society, its speech taste. It often poses as
colloquial speech. It is not squeamish. On the contrary, it parades its deviant
lexicon, the indecency of its descriptions, its interplay with vulgarity and
ignorance. Perhaps sensing the tragedy that has befallen the Word, the younger
generation of writers (not to be confused with “the new young” writers – there
is the same difference between them as between the Russians and “the new
Russians”) seek self-consciousness [osoznat’
sebia], seek to give voice to, express the way they feel about themselves [samooshchushchenie]. The resulting
self-portrait is a strange one. It is as if “the little man” and “the
superfluous man” of the Russian classics had merged in a general mood of loss
and fear of reality. It is as if they had chosen for themselves the position of
an observer, of an eye-witness rather than that of a participant in the events of
their time. It is as if they now found themselves in a state of sorrowful
anguish or of anguished sorrow.[32]
Thus, colloquial speech and
the literature of young poets and writers attest to the fact that linguistic
explosions are inseparable from cultural shock. One author calls this situation
a cultural trauma accompanying the collapse of one’s way of life, one’s
language, one’s culture: “If we agree that culture understood collectively is
the foundation stone for defining one’s collective identity, for delimiting
the boundaries of the category called “we” and the category “they”, which is
opposed to it or stands over against it, then a break-up of the cultural order
will often violate the collective identity. Moreover, the identity crisis and
the effort to restore it, to rebuild the collective identity, turn out to be
the most noticeable, empirical manifestation of a cultural trauma.”[33]
For instance, it is manifested in what a Polish writer calls “cultural
globalization or, as it is sometimes called, Westernization, Americanization,
McDonaldization.”[34]
These terms are imagistic rather than scientific, but they deserve our
attention in connection with the problem of self-consciousness and
self-identification.
There is perhaps no serious
publication in
Reflecting on the situation
today, a well-known scholar admits: “I shall not attempt to describe the
structure of our contemporary culture with its co-existence of strata ranging
from Metropolitan Illarion to yesterday’s newspapers. <…> Our world today
is facing a crisis: The question ‘What is to be done so we can live better?’
<…> has failed to yield a credible answer, leaving in its wake a vacuum of ideas, where
chaos boils over.”[35]
This is the chaos of scientific theories, economic projects, political
programs, the aggressive outpourings from the world of show-business and
entertainment, including television, the telling of jokes and spontaneous
speech.
It has already been noted
that the chief ideological leitmotifs of our day are: “Rossiia” (
So is
Or
Each
has its own grace…
[Umom Rossiiu ne poniat'.
Ravno kak
Frantsiiu, Ispaniiu...
...ob"edinyonnuiu
Germaniiu –
U vsekh
osobennaia stat'...]
(T. Kibirov)
There can be
no doubts.
Inspiration
cannot be sold,
But one can sell
out his Motherland.
[Kakie mogut byt' somnen'ia?
Umom Rossiiu
ne poniat':
Ne prodayotsia vdokhnoven'e,
No
mozhno Rodinu prodat'.]
(E. Lesin)
Hasn't Fedor
Ivanovich Tyutchev made a mistake
In bequeathing
his beloved Motherland to us?
[Ne oshibsia li Fyodor Ivanovich Tiutchev,
Zaveshchavshii
liubimuiu Rodinu nam?]
(V. Kostrov)
Opinions concerning
contemporary usage of the words Rossiia (
1.
They are used by politicians and the mass media
for effect or for demagogic purposes.
2.
They are losing or have already lost much of
their significance, saying little to the mind and heart of today’s younger
generation.
3.
They are replaced by other words and concepts.
4.
They are being restored and “rewritten”, as,
for example, in the new text of the national anthem of the
5.
They are made coarse or are intentionally
degraded.
As one of the scholars and
educators wrote: “The concept ‘Russian’ [russkii]
has gradually acquired in our democratic and liberal press a dubious if not
outright odious meaning.”[36]
Contemporary man asks himself:
Where is the
nation? No sign that it existed or not
And only dust
marches in full stature.
There are no
longer stars in our sky
And who knows if
there is a sky above.
[I gde narod? Ni znaka – byl il’ ne byl.
I tol’ko pyl’ shagaet v polnyi rost,
Na nashem nebe
netu bol’she zvyozd,
I kto otvetit,
est’ li vyshe nebo.]
(F. Cherepanov)
Such conclusions may be
drawn not only from everyday life and from the speeches by demagogic
politicians and rulers at all levels of the state but also to a significant
degree from the mass media. Among the many devices used to denigrate the
concepts
1.
Distortion of sayings, proverbs, phraseological
units and folklore images. For instance: “Um khorosho, a dva luchshe” (Two
heads are better than one) has turned into “Um khorosho, a dva okhrannika
luchshe” (Two bodyguards are better than one head); “Vasilisa Prekrasnaia”
(Beautiful Vasilisa) into “Vasilisa Neschastnaia” (Poor Vasilisa); “Tsypliat po
oseni schitaiut” (Don't count your chickens before they are hatched) into
“Investitsii po oseni schitaiut” (Don't count your investments before they are
made); “delat’ cherez pen’, cherez kolodu” (to botch up an operation) into “V
Rossii vsyo cherez Dumu delaetsia” (In Russia everything is botched up through
the Duma); “Bog ne vydast, svin'ia ne s"est” (If God is with you, no pig
will eat you) into “Bog ne vydast – Duma ne s"est” (If God is with you,
the State Duma won't eat you); “Zhizn’ prozhit’ ne pole pereiti” (Life is not
as easy as crossing a field) into “Dom kupit’ ne pole pereiti” (Buying a house
is not as easy as crossing a field); “Dolg platezhom krasen” (One good turn
deserves another) into “Dolg grabezhom krasen” (One good turn deserves a bad
one); “Ot sumy da ot tiur'my ne otrekaisia” (There is no guarantee against
poverty and prison) into “Ot summy ne otrekaisia” (Don’t turn down a lump sum
of money); “Uchen’e svet, a neuchen’e t’ma” (Learning leads to light, ignorance
to darkness) into “Uchen’e svet, esli deneg t’ma” (Learning leads to light, if
you have a lot of money); “I na starukhu byvaet prorukha” (Even an old woman
can make a mistake) into “I na starukhu byvaet pornukha” (Even an old woman
might get involved in pornography), etc.
2.
Changing the titles and texts of Russian
classics, social journalism [publitsistika],
popular movies of the past, lines from songs, catch-words: “Prazdnik, kotoryi
vsegda s Chubaisom!” (A holiday that always stays with Chubais) instead of
“Prazdnik, kotoryi vsegda s toboi!” (A holiday that always stays with you);
“Uchitel', dozhivi do ponedel'nika!” (Teacher, try to stay alive till Monday!)
instead of the movie title “Dozhivyom do ponedel'nika” (We’ll Live till
Monday); “Chem bol'she rodinu my liubim, tem men'she nravimsia my ei” (The more
we love our Motherland, the less she likes us) instead of “Chem men'she zhenshchinu my liubim, tem
legche nravimsia my ei” (The less we love a woman, the more easily she likes
us) [Pushkin's lines from Eugene Onegin];
“Gordiev sanuzel” (Gordian outhouse) instead of “Gordiev uzel” (Gordian knot);
“bez trakha i upryoka” ([a knight] without a fuck or reproach) instead of “bez
strakha i upryoka” ([a knight] without fear or reproach); “vse poroki v gosti k
nam” (All the world’s vices will visit us) instead of “Vse flagi v gosti budut
k nam” (All the world’s ships will visit us); “Chelovek – eto tol’ko zvuchit
gordo” (A human being – that only sounds like something to be proud of) instead
of “Chelovek – eto zvuchit gordo” (A human being – now that sounds like
something to be proud of); “televizor kak zerkalo russkoi revoliutsii”
(Television as a mirror of the Russian Revolution) instead of “Lev Tolstoi kak
zerkalo russkoi revoliutsii” (Leo Tolstoy as a Mirror of the Russian
Revolution); “Otechestvo slavliu, kotoroe est” (I glorify the Motherland, which
eats) instead of “Otechestvo slavliu, kotoroe est'…” (I glorify the Motherland,
which exists…) [Mayakovsky]; “Togda schitat’ my stali den’gi” (Then we started
counting our money) instead of “Togda schitat’ my stali rany…” (Then we started
counting our wounds); “V nachale bylo slovo, a v kontse – ego diskreditatsiia”
(In the beginning was the Word, and at the end was its discreditation) instead
of “V nachale bylo Slovo…” (In the beginning was the Word); “s fenei po zhizni”
([And he who walks] through life using argot) instead of “… s pesnei po
zhizni…” ([And he who walks] through life singing a song), etc.
3.
Wordplay and semantic games based on political
slogans and catchwords from the Soviet period: “Vliublyonnye vsekh polov,
soediniaites'!” (Lovers of all sexes, unite!) instead of “Proletarii vsekh
stran, soediniaites'!” (Workers of the world, unite!); “Vperyod, v svetloe
proshloe!” (Forward to the bright past!) instead of “Vperyod, v svetloe budushchee!”
(Forward to the bright future!); “Vperyod, k pobede kapitalizma!” (Forward to
the triumph of capitalism!) instead of “Vperyod, k pobede kommunizma!” (Forward
to the triumph of communism!).
4.
Reinterpretation of verbal stereotypes and
ideological clichés of the Soviet period: “strana pobedivshego nas
sotsializma” (the country where socialism has triumphed over us) instead of
“strana pobedivshego sotsializma” (the country of triumphant socialism),
"podavliaiushchee nas men’shinstvo" (the minority that
overwhelmed us) instead of “podavliaiushchee bol’shinstvo” (overwhelming
majority). “Den’ medika” (the day of the doctor), “den’ shakhtyora” (the day of
the miner), “den’ rybaka” (the day of the fisherman), etc., became “den’ zarplaty”
(payday). “Khranite den’gi v sberegatel’noi kasse” (Put your money in a savings
account) turned into “Khoronite den’gi v sberegatel’noi kasse” (Bury your money
in a savings account).
5.
Adding a disparaging or pejorative modifier to
a generally accepted concept: "dikii rynok" (wild market),
"ulichnaia demokratiia" (street democracy) "paralich
vlasti" (paralysis of power), "sovkovyi biznes" (Soviet-like
business), etc.
Under conditions of
universal discreditation of concepts, of crude word games and of the powerful
influence of the mass media on linguistic memory, the process of
self-consciousness and the formation of an identity for contemporary man take
place in Russia under unprecedented complex and contradictory conditions and
may at times take on an unexpected character.
As symptoms of the general breakdown and of the changing landmarks, we may note the rise of new historical stereotypes. For example, the prefix “pre” [do<