Monthly Archives: March 2014

Presto occuperemo il paradiso: The Italian seventies as a period of revolutionary hope (and despair).


Pier Paolo Pasolini- whose death in 1975 – constituted the mid point of an extraordinary decade

Next year will mark the 40th anniversary of the murder of Pier Paolo Pasolini. In a way this event is a kind of midway point in an extraordinary decade for Italy. The Italian 1970s are barely known abroad and even in Italy they are remembered badly, if at all. It seems to me that there is, and can not be, a single reading of that decade but multiple readings overlapping and contradicting each other. One can not can extinguish the fact that this was genuinely a period of both joy and despair. Bombs in public locations and on trains, assassinations, Red and Black terrorisms but also the Movimento del ’77, the Metropolitan Indians, the sacrilegious, wicked satire, controcultura, the emergence of strong feminist and gay liberation movements and figures such as Mario Mieli, and a cinema which at the time was accused of being ‘il piu brutto del mondo‘ (the ugliest in the world) but which,in retrospect, produced some truly great masterpieces. What better slogan to symbolize the hopes of the Italian 70s than ‘presto occuperemo il paradiso’ (soon we will occupy paradise). Maybe one can see the 1970s as a kind of spectacular and prolonged death of the very hope for revolution (finally buried in Turin with the defeat of the strike in FIAT and in Bologna on August 2nd,1980 with the massacre at Bologna railway station). It certainly seems as though the 1980s, 1990s and the first decade of 2000 have not brought Italy back the hopes of the 1970s (and perhaps its despair has been dulled too). Instead it seems to have been in a rather comatose state in recent decades (first with the CAF or Pentapartito) dominated years and then with the collapse of craxismo, came the years of Berlusconi). It seems as though the years of riflusso have become permanent.

This short post is a tentative call for an international celebration of the Italian 70s, or at least an attempt to imagine a virtual celebration (most of the videos are in Italian) which could include the following:-

1. The figure of Pier Paolo Pasolini: Obviously here the figure of Pasolini deserves an immense chapter all to himself.

2. The Festival of Proletarian Youth at Parco Lambro in Milan,1976:

Festival of Proletarian Youth at Parco Lambro, Milan, 1976

Here is one of the major figures of the Italian 1970s, Mario Mieli at Parco Lambro

3. The Movement of ’77 One of the most interesting movements which tried to take the revolt of 1968 on to a whole new plane.

4. Cultural aspects of the ‘Movimento’ – From the cartoons of Andrea Pazienza to the Bologna punk rock of Gaznevada.

Fumetto by Andrea Pazienza

Obviously the cultural aspects of the seventies are an immense subject (difficult to reduce to aspects of the ‘movimento’) colouring the whole context of these years.

5. Workers struggle as well as wider social struggles throughout the 70s and starting with the Hot Autumn of 1969. So brilliantly described in Nanni Balestrini’s Vogliamo Tutto (We Want Everything).

Nanni Balestrini’s novel on workers struggles in the late 60s.

6. Stories like the invention of the revolutionary radio station Alice:

In short, stories of the Italian seventies that deserve telling and deserve remembering. Determining what weight these stories have in reading the Italian seventies surely needs to be done someday. Next year while remembering the 40th anniversary of Pasolini’s death one could also attempt to remember those years which came before and after as an epoch yet to be fully rediscovered. An epoch which has still left many of its secrets under wraps.

Henri Lefebvre’s Letter on the Unknown Painter to Comrade D.


Henri Lefebvre

I remember reading Henri Lefebvre’s Introduction to Modernity about two years ago. In late June on the morning elektrichkas from Zheleznodorozhny to Moscow. I think that few books have given me such delight. There’s a phrase from a poem by Umberto Saba where he talks of Trieste’s old city (Citta’ Vecchia):

Qui degli umili sento in compagnia
Il mio pensiero farsi
Piu’ puro dove piu’ turpe la via.

In a way this reflected my feeling on the elektrichka (the dirty, overcrowded trains which run to and from the large cities). The worse one’s surroundings, the purer ones thoughts became. In any case reading Lefebvre’s book was something special- like a drug removing me from the reality of the filthy train. I was so immersed in the book that I even ignored the ‘Orthodox’ woman selling her tracts on the global masonic plot headed by the Queen of England. Being such a poetic text much of the book has, perhaps, been stored away in my subconscious. Yet there is one passage that keeps returning to my mind.

It is in Lefebvre’s letter to Comrade D, the editor at V.P in Moscow ( probably the journal Вопросы Философии). He writes it from Paris on September 15, 1956. It is a reply to a suggestion that he write an article for a special number celebrating the 40th anniversary of the great October Revolution. The letter expresses his appreciation of the honour, then talks about the importance of the October Revolution and about the kind of criticism that the Soviet experiment had in France. He then goes on to explain the influence that the October Revolution had on French art. Surrealism, modernity and his brief personal acquaintance with Esenin and Mayakovsky are mentioned in passing. Lefevbre asks for some information on Proletkult, asks about his interlocutor’s opinion on an internal debate amongst French artists. Then he reflects on the idea that every individual who has failed in something should be allowed to have a second chance. “Is it reactionary to believe this?” he asks, a bit like the jealous suitor in Barnet’s ‘Generous Summer’ asking whether jealousy isn’t a bourgeois feeling. Lefebvre finally tells Comrade D.that he is getting a little bogged down so he will tell him a story which no one else knows about a friend of his called Joseph Dupont. Dupont was twenty years older than Lefebvre but unfortunately he died young when Lefebvre had been too young to appreciate his brilliance.

It is the following tale which Lefebvre tells which stuck most deeply in my memory. It is the tale of a carpenter’s son who was very gifted at drawing. The teacher gave him extra lessons – helping him as much as he could. Dupont illustrated Zola novels at twelve years old during playtimes and went on a tour of France at fifteen. He did lightning pen or pencil sketches of fat bourgeois on café’ terraces or in fashionable meeting places. He told me that more than once the portraits he did for the odd coin or two would steer close to caricature.
His only goal was to be a painter and went to an academy but he reacted against the official style. He turned down jobs which would have enabled him to continue his studies. Then he returned home to the small town where he (and Lefevbre) were born. “And there, for then years, with all the energy of a wild animal, he painted. He earned his living drawing plans for cabinet-makers or cartoons for local papers. A loaf of bread, the occasional glass of wine, and he was satisfied. He was a painter. What did he paint? Everything. Great men and great scenes from history and from revolutions.
His attic became full of canvasses. What bourgeois would have bought those wonderful and passionately realist paintings? Not one. They were not decadent or titillating enough. Joseph Dupont was not one to reject the world of things and objects… what he painted was unlike everything here- unlike the Impressionists, the Fauves, the Cubists, those vandals of idealism and decrepitude. What he painted was like – what he painted.”
“And they never forgave him for it. I became his only confidant. Once he offered the county museum museum one of his vast progressivist frescos which he had dedicated to the glory of French technology, science and industry… Anyone could see that the entire painting was imbued with the idea of historical necessity, and the genius of Papin’s mind was visible in the inspired expression on his face, marvellously captured by the brush, in trompe- l’oeil. The painting was refused. Whenever Joseph told me this story he would smile, for his moral standards were as elevated as his creative genius
I helped carry the painting up to the attic. I was in tears, but not he.
Shortly afterwards, I had to go away for a long time as part of my studies. The only valid reason for leaving one’s own country is to visit the great socialist fatherland! On my return Joseph was dead. He died without a sou, and was given a pauper’s grave. His landlord repossessed his house, and gave the entire contents of the attic to a rag-and-bone man. Like the blind instrument of a vandalistic fate, the rag-and-bone man simply made a bonfire with all the canvasses and sold the frames to a furniture merchant. All I found were a few unrecognizable fragments which the rag-and-bone man’s young daughter had cut up with scissors, for fun.
Of Joseph, nothing remained. The bourgeoisie had won a terrifying victory. I alone cherish the memory of this victim. Dear comrade , could you possibly send a delegation to visit the places where he lived out his life? Ought there not to be a monument to the unknown painter, as there is to the unknown soldier?

I couldn’t help imagining what the reaction of Comrade D. was on receiving this almost too personal letter, an almost infinitely tender and intimate letter of rage at injustice. So unbusiness-like (or,rather, unparty-like) was this offering of a story that Lefebvre had never told to anyone else, that Comrade D. surely would have been rather non-plussed or even embarassed. There is something almost gauche in Lefebvre’s letter to this magazine editor but so ferociously sincere. Was the recipient a literary functionary, a careerist, or someone with a genuinely open culture? All we know is that Lefebvre (it says so in brackets at the bottom of the page) never received an answer. And the monument to the unknown artist, it seems, was never built. And Joseph Dupont was never resurrected in the history of art as a kind of martyr-like reverse Lieutenant Kizhe (a deletion rather than an addition). Maybe because the question of the unknown artist in Russia in 1956 was still an immensely painful one (but for different reasons). As, of course, it is today when charlatanism and conformity rule like almost never before. Dupont’s story seems almost too contemporary.

Yet the monument to the unknown painter remains to be built. And a world that honours the Duponts (rather than charlatans) is still to be won. Yet thankfully we had someone as gauche, as sincere and as brilliant as Lefebvre who won’t let us forget this.

Oblique Thoughts on Ukraine and the Crimea


1.The flowing of blood (or its prospective flow) in one part of the European continent inevitably attracts the flow of words from hacks, experts and semi-experts, journalists who have rushed to speak to experts and semi-experts and so on. Down eventually to the person on the sofa watching the TV screen or those who make their comments below the articles of those who have commented. The verbal diarrhoea generated can be, and is probably meant to be, overwhelming.

2.a. Sympathies and antipathies generated soon degenerate into rather demented beliefs: I still remember almost 15 years later after doing some research on anti-military protests in the former Yugoslavia at the early part of the war for a final essay the tale of an American feminist speaking to a Serbian feminist at the time of the wars of dissolution in Yugoslavia. The Serbian feminist was trying to explain to the American that while she was a Serb (and still living in Belgrade) she was opposed to Milosevic and his war. To which the American replied; “If that’s so, why aren’t you dead”. It feels as though similar mindsets are at work with the Ukraine – Russia crisis. As one person noted on their Facebook page the discourse that pundits are using is already talking about ‘ethnic Russians’ and their perspective. There is something deeply sinister about how people misread the situation. The ethnicity explanation brings one back to the Yugoslavia debacle of misunderstandings. That instant analysis that drowns out all reason.

2.b. An interesting story about how sympathies and antipathies are generated is a story told by Evgeniy Golubenko, the script-writer and husband of Kira Muratova. His mother had an undying hatred of Hungarians even though she had probably never met a single Hungarian in her life. The fact is that she was left, nine months pregnant, suddenly without her husband (her main support) because he was sent off for re-training during the Hungarian revolution of 1956. This entirely personal reason for one’s relationship to a nation or a historical event may well not be so unusual.

3. As a resident of Russia for many years, a British passport with Italian roots, I confess a certain confusion of perspective. I’d rather criticize the imperialism of my own country (which one?) first. I have a general disgust for all flags and national obssessions. Culturally I feel European in more ways than one but Russia has meant me questioning the limits of my European-ness. There remain instinctual (culturally embedded) reactions of mine as a European. There is, moreover, in me a general distaste for more or less every military operation that my country of residence involves itself in (wherever that country of residence be at the time). I also feel uneasy about supporting calls for intervention by stronger sides (the western powers).

For me “The enemy is at home” is a fine ideal until I start thinking about where my home is supposed to be. What home? Where is my home? Not only am I a convinced internationalist, I guess I see myself as a rather rootless cosmopolitan. If I identify myself with someone it is probably the character of Joseph Roth’s ‘Flight Without End’, and I find a certain kind of weightlessness (or superfluousness) in my current situation:

It was at about that hour that my friend Tunda, thirty-two years old, healthy and vigorous, a strong young man of divers talents, stood on the square in front of the Madeleine, in the centre of the world’s capital, and didn’t know what to do. He had no calling, no love, no desire, no hope, no ambition, and not even egotism.
In all the world there was no one so superfluous as he.

4. Yet wars (and the prospects of war) confound and wound me. At some point I started thinking about the first war I experienced which assaulted my world of thought. For me Russia in 2014 with its growing obsession with Crimea and Ukraine started to have something of the UK in 1982 with the Brits obsession about ‘their’ Falklands. It’s not as though there are formal, legal parallels. There aren’t that many. Crimea means more to Russians than the Falklands/Malvinas ever meant to the UK (at least up to 1982). And the Falklands/Malvinas issue is a different kind of colonial nut to break. But there is something about Russian society and British society which felt similar. The wars that the UK has been involved in after the 1980s have become much more decisive affairs. There have never been large majorities in the UK favouring the Iraq war or the one in Afghanistan. Yet there was over the Falklands conflict- just as now in Russia there seems to be that growing consensus over the Crimea. Remembering and thinking back at that time in Britain, there was that same talk of betrayal and pinkos that there is in Russia today (here the talk is of traitors and fifth columnists). The enemy without (the new Ukrainian government and Maidan) is quickly being supplemented with an enemy within (‘national traitors’ is the term used by Putin today- March 18th). More and more people that one would have imagined against the military adventure support it. Jingoism, too, whipped up in a rather successful way. Even the information war during the Malvinas/Falklands conflict should not be underestimated- it was a very badly reported war. Even though Russian television seems to do everything to make this not just a badly reported war but the first step into building some kind of completely alternative reality.

British hysteria and fanaticism

5. Describing the past few weeks and months in Russia is that kind of task which leaves the head spinning. It certainly feels like a watershed period. Indeed it feels as though all certainties and so many alliances are being torn asunder. It is one of those moments when former allies have become adversaries and former adversaries unlikely allies. On the anti-war demonstration on March 15th one could breathe a sigh of relief that the all-too common imperial flags where absent but then it was also rather difficult to find red flags. Only a relatively small section of the crowd carried and marched behind the Russian Socialist Movement’s flag or that of the Committee for a Workers’ International. There were three small groups of anarchists involved and it was a nice surprise that Vladimir Akimenkov had turned up to the demonstration marching with one of these groups. The Left Front flags, however, were generally absent. There was a sea of both Russian and Ukrainian flags and many of the liberal movements also seemed to be well represented. Feminists and LGBT were also represented. Yet it is impossible not to be aware that these days have established new walls of misunderstanding between former friends who previously found themselves on the same side of political arguments. Often the disputes have grown bitter. In many ways this Crimea adventure has the potential to turn out like many other seminal events in history- a moment of division and separation and a reminder of how history breaks open and subverts some of the strongest and closest of ties.

The March for Peace in Moscow 15th March 2014

6. Following Facebook discussions has been a time-consuming and depressing activity in past weeks. Depressing also because of the fact that events in conflicts supersede so fast and the news and videos are so full of violent facts and images that one tends to drown in a growing despair. Depressing also because one sees the abyss between people’s views and the growing aggression and frustration building between people. Yet Facebook is surely becoming the only medium of exchange of opinions.

7. In many ways I want to write about the Ukraine and the Crimea that I know. Lvov, Kiev, Odessa, Zhytomyr and the many places in the Crimea that I’ve visited, some time and again. Odessa for me is the one Russian-language city that most closely represents an ideal habitus. A city I feel in tune with. Imagining Odessa falling into some future civil war is beyond bearable. Beyond analysis. Beyond words into that territory of the tragic. That empty place in which the rhythm of life is forced into an uncontrollable vortex of madness, and words and analysis become a kind of betrayal. Maybe all this is paranoia. Yet the political and the geopolitical is surely overshadowing the personal in this part of the world.

Odessa, decades ago

8. Reason struggles in a weak manner against the kind of subversion of reality and the construction of a new false Reality that seems to be taking place here in Russia now. Geopolitically maybe it simply denotes the resurgence of a new imperialism. Almost fifteen years since first coming to Moscow there is a sense that some line has been crossed from keeping the madder forces at bay to inviting them to the centre of the stage. The Dugin’s, Prokhanov’s, Kiselev’s and Limonov’s seem to be the new builders of acceptable reality and discourse. One is starting to breathe in a different air. The kind of air surrounding someone addicted to the crack cocaine of patriotism gone mad.

People would do well to read Stas Markelov’s Patriotism as Diagnosis. His last text it really does seem to be written with today in mind:

If someone wishes to show his crazy love for something let him shut himself up in the bathroom and demonstrate it. To publicly make love is exhibitionism, immoral and amoral. Public love for the leader, for Power is no less amoral.

One’s idea of the Motherland is not defined by state boundaries, territories or even the settlement of one’s blood relatives. It is a personal idea and one which you can’t force on others. Personal things are not the object of parades and passionate declarations. It’s like hanging up one’s underwear as a kind of flag.

He who really loves his Motherland won’t shout out about this in every street corner and swear by their patriotism. Moreover he won’t force others to do so or make of patriotism a state doctrine. If in the guise of a national idea we are palmed off with phony patriotism it means that this is useful for someone, someone who is trying to hide their profit- a profit, to put it mildly, not entirely honest or legal.

The question isn’t only about whether we agreed to swallow this bait, not entirely about whether have been softened by this patriotic gabble, whether we wish to pig out on the national lie and be ready to gobble any shit so long as it is served with a patriotic sauce? The choice is left: are you healthy or has the epidemic of patriotic insanity managed to eat into your minds so you no longer digest anything but the sickly ambrosial gushing from the television and the cries of the thieves about how they love their Motherland.

An honest man can’t be a patriot because honesty is irreconcilable with patriotic swank. A wise man will never become a patriot because to actually assimilate patriotic slogans is the fate of imbeciles ready to deceive themselves. Self-respecting people aren’t taken in by the patriotic deception. They have their own opinions and they don’t need them to be substituted with intrusive propaganda.

And one would do well to remind themselves of Anastasia Baburova’s (an anti-fascist journalist working in Moscow but from Sevastopol and assassinated alongside Markelov by Russian Neo-Nazis) slogan Мое отечество – все человечествое (My country is the whole of humanity).

Serhiy Zhadan: «I’m in favour of any form of struggle against power » (interview with D. Raider) THE MAIN UKRAINIAN WRITER ON EUROMAIDAN AND THE HISTORICAL JUNCTIONS OF CONTEMPORARY UKRAINE


Serhiy Zhadan

This is an interview by Serhiy Zhadan with Dmitry Raider published in on December 1st last year. Zhadan is one of Ukraine’s best contemporary writers. A small blog portrait of Zhadan and his writings has been published in the London Review of Books authored by Peter Pomerantsev. A recent incident in the conflicts in Ukraine included Zhadan and is described by Pomerantsev:

Last week, Zhadan and another hundred or so pro-Majdan activists stormed the regional government building and barricaded themselves inside. On 1 March a crowd of several thousand turned up for a rally to show their anger at the revolution in Kiev. It was organised by the mayor of Kharkiv, Grigoriy Kernes, nicknamed ‘Gepa’. In the 1990s he was sentenced to three years for hooliganism and fraud (but got off the full sentence by co-operating with the prosecution). When Yanukovich fell, Kernes ran to Russia – though he soon returned saying he had just been on a quick break in Geneva. Many of the protesters were local, though some appear to have been bussed in from across the Russian border in Belgorod. As the day went on they got louder and angrier, and as a pop singer on the stage sang ‘Our Kharkiv’, men with bats and guns stormed the building. The Majdan protesters were led out. They were told to get down on their knees and crawl through the crowd who were spitting and kicking them, shouting: ‘Kharkiv! Kharkiv!’ Zhadan was hit over the head with a bat from behind: he has concussion, his head is split open, and his nose broken. He refused to get down on his knees and was led away by police.

— Which moments of Ukrainian history do you see as points of bifurcation, when those or other events could have changed its path towards a completely different direction?
— Well in the past hundred years, of course, the revolutionary events of 1917-1920 and the declaration of independence. These events not only could have changed the path of history, they actually did so. Moreover, the events of 22 years ago even now are developing in lively and unpredictable ways. How this will all end I’m not able to say but I am categorically not happy with the ways things have gone so far: in these 22 years we have been practically building a system which has deprived us of our rights and our freedoms. This, of course, doesn’t mean that I am filled with any Soviet nostalgia.
— Is the cultural rupture between western and eastern Ukraine so great? Or do there exist a larger number of cultural identities?
— The cultural rupture (it would probably be more accurate to speak of a historical rupture or a rupture in world outlook) is, of course, present- after all we have been gathered under a single border for only a short period, before that we were parts of completely different imperial structures. Moreover it seems to me that our general social problems have largely neutralised these ruptures, making our differences secondary ones. In our country we all have general problems and moreover a general opportunity for resolving them.
— In one interview you talk about yourself as an anarchist, recently you participated in the presentation of the book “A Ukrainian Trotsky”? How would you now describe your political views?
— Yes I essentially also tried to speak at the book presentation too about Trotsky from a position of anarcho-communism- all the same, the Makhanovites had their own history of their relations with Lev Davidovitch. I believe that the events of 1917-1920 that I mentioned here rquire an attentive and comprehensive study. Our relations with in the last few years have been rather tendentious, many facts and events are adjusted to fit under the convenient for many conception of the national liberation movement often ignoring the class component of that revolution, its social factors.
— And as a follow on of the former question: can you describe your impressions of this presentation. I know that there were various problems linked with the nationalists…
— No, at the Kharkov presentation there were no problems with nationalists. They, the nationalists, came and took an active part in the discussion. A discussion that it seemed to me that they weren’t exactly prepared for. That is their argumentation all came down to the usual tendentious stuff- communism is bad because it is bad. Well that general position of denying some ideology or other not from a theoretical position but from the point of view of a concrete practical realisation. That is, in general, just like accusing jesus for the organisation of the Crusades and the genocide of Arab populations. In pronciple, one could also judge any ideology in this way- nationalism, liberalism, democrats, conservatives. Their main argument is more pathos and populism.
— In the novel «Voroshilovgrad» is described a location whose population is made up of different tribes: gas fitters, gypsies, severe farmers, multilingual refugees. But these tribes are threatened by serious people, large business, as that person who moves for this alien to him location in his own train. Would you want to preserve this location with its tribes unchanged or do you see the possibility of a third variant, of some dialectical result of struggle.
— The specific and particular character of this location results from its transitory, border status. It is located on the edge, on the frontier, balanced between different surfaces of reality defing the rhythm and world outlook of separate social, religious and ethnic groups who find themsleves in this space. Along with this, their total marginality explains also their mood towards a certain distance from state and social structures. That is such spontaneous communesand syndicalist groups are entirely self-sufficent and completely viable. They pull through precisely due to this inner and reciprocal support, because of their self-organisation and because of initiatives from below.
— You are the most well-known contemporary Ukrainian author in Russia today. Which of your Ukrainian colleagues would you advise to Russian readers, translators and publishers?
— We have a very interesting poetry scene and there are a number of interesting prose writers. Apart from those already known and published in Russia (Yuri Andrukhovich, Taras Prokasko, Oksana Zabuzhko, Natalka Snyadanko) I would advise people to read the poetry and prose of Pavel Vol’vach, Andrey Bondar, Marianna Kyanovskaya, Svetlana Povalayeva and several tens of other authors. Simply now I haven’t mentioned some and I understand that this is not entirely correct. So if someone from the publishers are interested I am ready to supply them with a full list with commentaries.
— Irvine Welsh with whom you are sometimes compared in one interview said that he wrote many of his things listening to jungle music and that his texts are jungle from human emotions. When you write do you listen to some type of music? With which musical style would you compare your works?
— I listen to reggae, I’ve always been interested in the attempt to unite the necessity of social justice and the justice of one’s world outlook. I’d say that this was optimal- the mixture of a political mercenariness and ethical utopianism.
— Is there something important that the inhabitants of Russia don’t know about contemporary Ukraine, don’t understand about it? What do you think about the Euro Maidan?
— Ukraine is a much more complex, multi-layered, self-sufficient and independent country than is shown by Kremlin propaganda. Even its problems are rather more difficult than your state television try to show. Therefore, of course, it is best not to trust propagandistic cliches- independent and diverse information allows us to more attentively relate to each other and not to subject ourselves to reciprocal psychoses. As far as Euromaidan is concerned – I am for any forms of struggle against power. Euromaidan is far from the worst of them.

The bloodied Zhadan after the incident in Kharkov.

Vladimir Ishchenko ‘On those I hate’ (those responsible for the mess in Ukraine)


To take a critical position in uneasy times is a thankless task. For some hysterical idiots I’ve lain down with the fascists, for others I’ve betrayed my homeland. One needs to value one’s time and use it effectively, so I’ve answered everyone in one text.

I hate the Euro idiots who started all this movement due to their Euro pipe dreams and cultural chauvinism.
I hate that scumbag who grabbed on to power, in spite of tens of deaths and now wishes to return to the country on foreign tanks.
I hate the former opposition and present-day government which found nothing better to do than to save their language, bring fascists into the government and promise unpopular social measures.
I hate the Crimean authorities who trembling for fear of their seats in government are happy to serve in an administration of occupiers.
I hate that tyrant in the Kremlin who needs a small victorious war to strengthen the rouble and his own quasi autocratic power.
I hate all those “deeply concerned” European and American bureaucrats who are implementing sanctions just now as the government has already been overthrown and if they are ready to give any help they will do so only with extortionate conditions attached.
I hate Ukrainian fascist and Russian fascists who can’t come to terms with the reality of a multi-cultural and multi-lingual country and are ready to destroy it.
I hate those ‘liberals’ who dirtied themselves playing with Ukrainian fascists on the Maidan not dissociating themselves from them, and so preventing the chance of creating a genuinely national and democratic movement rather than pushing the country towards civil war.
I hate myself and other leftists for the fact that most of the time we were lost in internecine shit rather than in building a genuinely strong political organisation and so we found no way to have any influence on the Maidans and the anti Maidans. A part of the responsibility also lies with us.
And in general I’m for peace in the entire world. Today I returned to my country at war and am hoping that everything will limit itself to the Second Crimean War, and not to a Third World war. Because that will end not in any world revolution (there’s less chance of that now than a hundred years ago) but in a nuclear holocaust.
Russian comrades, go out onto the city squares of your cities to stop the intervention in Ukraine.
Ukrainian comrades, let’s think what we can do. Surely not enroll in to the ‘Right Sector’.