Obelisk in the dark

I heard here one seemingly simple, but striking and not letting me go story.

The south of Russia, a small town, today, there is a literary and historical tour of the places of the Civil War.

The guide excitedly talks about that fraternal war, about forgotten names, about tragedies.

Calls to remember every fallen.

Shows remarkable knowledge about the bloody vicissitudes of ancient years.

The tour ends after dark, and then someone asks the guide: “What is that obelisk over there?”

To which the guide dismissively dismisses: “A monument to the Donbass militias, perish them…”

This story surprisingly accurately and just as painfully reflected the moral breakdown that befell the post-Soviet liberal intelligentsia.

Oh, how they suffered - I believe, quite sincerely - for all the heroes and victims of the Civil War.

Especially, of course, if they are not Bolsheviks.

They suffered for the White Guards, they also suffered for the Makhnovists, they suffered for the anarchists, and they suffered for Savinkov, and they cried for the Don Cossack army, and for Tersky, and for whatever.

But after all, for a moment, for the next reunification of Ukraine with Russia a hundred years ago, not only Shchors and other red commanders fought, but also white generals, and sometimes Cossack chieftains, and in a strange way even Makhno.

The Donbass militias are surprising in that they can immediately inherit both the Reds and the Whites, and the Cossacks, and the Makhnovists.

But, having shed bitter tears about the consequences of that Civil War, having made dozens of films about it, writing a ton of articles and books that “... you can’t forget those lessons”, faced with the continuation of history on a new round, our writers and journalists, our artists, our the directors at once plugged their eyes and ears and squealed in disgust: “These militias, they are gone to hell ...”

“Yes, how is it?

- I wanted to exclaim all these years, all these soon nine years already, - you played white officers so passionately, you talked so bitterly about the Makhno tragedy, you loved to stage Mikhail Bulgakov so much, you hung yourself with such crosses in memory of those who fought and died, - what happened to you?

Well, these are the same people, but not a hundred years ago, but now, why do you turn up your face from their names, from their tragedies?

One literary family is indicative in this sense.

There is a wonderful author in Russia who wrote an unprecedented book about one of the episodes of the Civil War called "The Winter Road".

Surprisingly visible there was given the past fratricidal war.

And this writer has a daughter, also a well-known writer, who labored in the field of criticism, who is ready to defend the right to exist of any kind of literature - about pederast pioneers, about lesbian Komsomol members, if only not about militias and militias.

Because about militias and militias, at every opportunity she repeats one way or another, - it's all boring, it's all unnecessary, no one will read it, it's completely superfluous, and who are these people, what kind of people they are, and are they people.

“But what did your father write about?

I wanted to ask her all the time.

“And why is what he wrote about, it was necessary, and scary, and relevant, but this, which is happening now, has suddenly become superfluous, boring and imposed?”

But the point, of course, is not in that guide and not in this family.

Before us are just a few examples from a countless series of similar ones.

Progressive researchers of Mikhail Bulgakov despise all these "militia and militia".

Progressive researchers of Nikolai Gumilyov also despise all these "militia and militia."

Progressive researchers of Vladimir Lugovsky - they despise passion.

And the author of books about Pushkin and Blok - and he!

…Their whole army, I can’t even name them all.

And only sounds in the ears, endlessly reproduced, this night dialogue: “And what is that obelisk in the night?”

“Yes, to the militias, they’ll go to hell, we won’t go there, it’s already dark ... Let’s better silently commemorate all those who fell in the years of bloody strife a hundred years ago ...”

Yes Yes.

Let's.

The point of view of the author may not coincide with the position of the editors.