Nobel lecture on Solzhenitsyn literature. Nobel lecture Alexander Solzhenitsyn (1972)
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Solzhenitsyn Alexander I.
Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Nobel lecture on literature 1972
How is that savage, in bewilderment of a strange emission of the ocean? Sand sams? Or from the sky fallen incomprehensible subject? - The intricate in bends, which is blaming it vaguely, then a bright blow of the beam, "he also turns himself and Syak, turns, looking for how to adapt to business, looking for an affordable low service, without guessing the highest.
And we, holding art in your hands, self-confidently honor themselves by the owners of him, boldly he guide, we refresh, reform, manifest, we sell for money, catering strong, turn to entertainment - to pop songs and a night bar, then - zadachko or Palo, how to grab - for political mimobhery needs, for limited social. And art is not defiled by our attempts, does not lose on that of its origin, every time and in every use paying part of their secret inner light.
But does it cover the next light? Who dares to say that she determined art? listed all sides of it? Or maybe already understood, and called us in past centuries, but we could not stand it for a short time: we listened, and they neglected, and they leaseed right there, as always, hurry to change although the best - but only for a new one ! And when the old one again, we will not remember that we had it.
One artist misses herself the Creator of an independent spiritual world and boils the act of creation of this world on his shoulders, his population, which is liable for him, but is closed, because the load is not able to withstand the mortal genius; As in general, a person who declared himself the center of Being, failed to create a balanced spiritual system. And if there is a failure to them, - they will fill her on the eternal disharmonicity of the world, the complexity of a modern torn soul or the incomprehensibility of the public.
Another - knows the strength of the highest and happily works with a little apprentice under the sky of God, although it is still strictering his responsibility for everything written, drawn, for those who perceive the souls. But: I didn't create this world, it is not controlled by it, there is no doubt in its foundations, the artist is given only to others to feel the harmony of the world, the beauty and disgrace of the human contribution to it - and to sharpen it to people. And in failures and even at the bottom of the existence - in poverty, in prison, in diseases - the feeling of sustainable harmony cannot leave it.
However, all the irrationality of the art, his dazzling twists, unpredictable finds, its shaking effect on people, are too magic to exhaust them with the worldview of the artist, his intention or the work of his unworthy fingers.
Archaeologists do not discover such early stages of human existence, whenever we have art. In the pre-afternoon twilight of humanity, we got it out of the hands, which we did not have time to see. And they did not have time to ask: Will we have this gift? How to treat him?
And they were mistaken, and all the predictors will be mistaken, that the art will decompose, outlines their forms, die. We will die - we, and it will remain. And will we still understand all the parties and all the appointments of it?
Not all - called. Other entails the words. Art placed even sniffed, darkened soul to high spiritual experience. Through art, it is sometimes sent to us, vaguely, short, - such revelations, what not to develop rational thinking.
Like the small mirror of fairy tales: we look at him and see - not yourself, "you will see unavailable on the moment, where not to counterack, do not fly. And only the soul is starting ...
Dostoevsky mysteriously dropped once: "The world will save beauty." What is it? I thought for a long time - just phrase. How would it be possible? When in a bloodthirsty story, whom beauty saved? He addressed, elevated - yes, but who saved?
However, there is such a feature in the essence of beauty, a feature in the position of art: persuasiveness of a truly artistic work is completely irrefutable and subordinates even the opposed heart. Political speech, assertive journalism, social life program, the philosophical system can seem to build smoothly, slim and mistaken, and on lies; And what is hidden, and that it is distorted - it will not see him immediately. And it will be released in controversial speech, publicism, the program, the foregorical philosophy, - and everything is still slightly and smooth, and again came out. There is because there is a confidence in them - and there is no trust.
The question is told that it does not lie to the heart.
The work of the artistic test carries itself in itself: the concepts invented, stretched not withstand tests on the images: they are collapsed and others are collapsed, they are sick, they do not convince anyone. The works, who have grown up the truths and submitted to us a condensed-alive, capture us, bring to themselves powerful - and no one, never, even through the century, will not refute them.
So it may be, this is the old trinity of truth, good and beauty - not just a parade dilapidated formula, as it seemed to us at the time of our arrogant materialistic youth? If the vertices of these three trees agree, according to researchers, but too explicit, too straight rows of truth and good are crushed, cut down, are not skipped, - it may be bizarre, unpredictable, unexpected pigs of beauty break through and will be attached to the same place, and So will perform work for all three?
And then not a scratch, but the prophecy is written in Dostoevsky: "The world will save the beauty"? After all, he was given a lot to see, illuminated him amazingly.
And then art, literature can actually help today's world?
That is a little that I managed to see me over the years in this task, I will try to present here today.
On this department, with which the Nobel lecture is read, the department provided by the whole writer and only once in his life, I rose not in three-four paved steps, but on hundreds or even thousands of them - disaddle, frustrated, frozen, from darkness And the cold, where I was destined to survive, and others could be with a big gift, stronger me. Of these, only some I met myself on the Archipelago of Gulag, was scattered into a fractional set of islands, yes under the Horry Slotching and distrust did not speak with all sorts, they only heard about others he only guess. Those who have gone to that abyss already with the literary name, at least known - but how many not recognized, have never been publicly called! And almost almost anyone failed to return. The whole national literature remained there, buried not only without a coffin, but even without underwear, naked, with a tag on the finger. Russian literature was not interrupted for any moment! - And the side seemed to the desert. Where a friendly forest could grow, there were two or three randomly loose woods.
And today, accompanied by the shadows of the fallen, and with the inclined head passing forward to this place of others, worthy of earlier, today - how to guess and express what would you like to say about N and?
This duty has long been on us, and we understood it. With the words of Vladimir Solovyov:
But in chains, we must accomplish
That circle that gods outlined to us.
In the troubling camp, in the column of prisoners, in the MGL of evening frosts with translucent chains of lamps - more than once merged into the throat, which would like to shout on the whole world if the world could hear some of us. Then it seemed very clearly: what will say our lucky messenger - and how the world will reflect immediately. It was clearly filled with our horizons and bodily objects, and spiritual motions, and in the unfavorable world they did not see the advantage. Those thoughts came from books and are not borrowed for wrestling: in prison cells and forest fires, they have developed in conversations with people, now those who are dead, are tested, about tt o d and rose.
When there was an external pressure - my and our horizons expanded, and gradually, at least in a crack, I saw and learned that "the whole world." And strikingly for us turned out to be "the whole world" at all, as we expected, as we hoped: "It's not the living," not there "coming, on a marsh fusion exclamation:" What a charming lawn! " - on concrete cervical pads: "What a sophisticated necklace!" - And where they roll in some neotiric tears, there are others as far as the careless Musicula.
How did it happen? Why did this precipice zinul? Insensitive we were? Is the world insensitive? Or is it from the difference of languages? Why not all clear speech people can hear each other? Words are refused and drown as water - without taste, without color, odorless. Without a trace.
As I understood it, I changed and changed over the years, the meaning and tone of my possible speech. My today's speech.
And there is no little similar to the one originally conceived in frosty campgrounds.
Solzhenitsyn Alexander I.
Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Nobel lecture on literature 1972
How is that savage, in bewilderment of a strange emission of the ocean? Sand sams? Or from the sky fallen incomprehensible subject? - The intricate in bends, which is blaming it vaguely, then a bright blow of the beam, "he also turns himself and Syak, turns, looking for how to adapt to business, looking for an affordable low service, without guessing the highest.
And we, holding art in your hands, self-confidently honor themselves by the owners of him, boldly he guide, we refresh, reform, manifest, we sell for money, catering strong, turn to entertainment - to pop songs and a night bar, then - zadachko or Palo, how to grab - for political mimobhery needs, for limited social. And art is not defiled by our attempts, does not lose on that of its origin, every time and in every use paying part of their secret inner light.
But does it cover the next light? Who dares to say that she determined art? listed all sides of it? Or maybe already understood, and called us in past centuries, but we could not stand it for a short time: we listened, and they neglected, and they leaseed right there, as always, hurry to change although the best - but only for a new one ! And when the old one again, we will not remember that we had it.
One artist misses herself the Creator of an independent spiritual world and boils the act of creation of this world on his shoulders, his population, which is liable for him, but is closed, because the load is not able to withstand the mortal genius; As in general, a person who declared himself the center of Being, failed to create a balanced spiritual system. And if there is a failure to them, - they will fill her on the eternal disharmonicity of the world, the complexity of a modern torn soul or the incomprehensibility of the public.
Another - knows the strength of the highest and happily works with a little apprentice under the sky of God, although it is still strictering his responsibility for everything written, drawn, for those who perceive the souls. But: I didn't create this world, it is not controlled by it, there is no doubt in its foundations, the artist is given only to others to feel the harmony of the world, the beauty and disgrace of the human contribution to it - and to sharpen it to people. And in failures and even at the bottom of the existence - in poverty, in prison, in diseases - the feeling of sustainable harmony cannot leave it.
However, all the irrationality of the art, his dazzling twists, unpredictable finds, its shaking effect on people, are too magic to exhaust them with the worldview of the artist, his intention or the work of his unworthy fingers.
Archaeologists do not discover such early stages of human existence, whenever we have art. In the pre-afternoon twilight of humanity, we got it out of the hands, which we did not have time to see. And they did not have time to ask: Will we have this gift? How to treat him?
And they were mistaken, and all the predictors will be mistaken, that the art will decompose, outlines their forms, die. We will die - we, and it will remain. And will we still understand all the parties and all the appointments of it?
Not all - called. Other entails the words. Art placed even sniffed, darkened soul to high spiritual experience. Through art, it is sometimes sent to us, vaguely, short, - such revelations, what not to develop rational thinking.
Like the small mirror of fairy tales: we look at him and see - not yourself, "you will see unavailable on the moment, where not to counterack, do not fly. And only the soul is starting ...
Dostoevsky mysteriously dropped once: "The world will save beauty." What is it? I thought for a long time - just phrase. How would it be possible? When in a bloodthirsty story, whom beauty saved? He addressed, elevated - yes, but who saved?
However, there is such a feature in the essence of beauty, a feature in the position of art: persuasiveness of a truly artistic work is completely irrefutable and subordinates even the opposed heart. Political speech, assertive journalism, social life program, the philosophical system can seem to build smoothly, slim and mistaken, and on lies; And what is hidden, and that it is distorted - it will not see him immediately. And it will be released in controversial speech, publicism, the program, the foregorical philosophy, - and everything is still slightly and smooth, and again came out. There is because there is a confidence in them - and there is no trust.
The question is told that it does not lie to the heart.
The work of the artistic test carries itself in itself: the concepts invented, stretched not withstand tests on the images: they are collapsed and others are collapsed, they are sick, they do not convince anyone. The works, who have grown up the truths and submitted to us a condensed-alive, capture us, bring to themselves powerful - and no one, never, even through the century, will not refute them.
So it may be, this is the old trinity of truth, good and beauty - not just a parade dilapidated formula, as it seemed to us at the time of our arrogant materialistic youth? If the vertices of these three trees agree, according to researchers, but too explicit, too straight rows of truth and good are crushed, cut down, are not skipped, - it may be bizarre, unpredictable, unexpected pigs of beauty break through and will be attached to the same place, and So will perform work for all three?
And then not a scratch, but the prophecy is written in Dostoevsky: "The world will save the beauty"? After all, he was given a lot to see, illuminated him amazingly.
And then art, literature can actually help today's world?
That is a little that I managed to see me over the years in this task, I will try to present here today.
On this department, with which the Nobel lecture is read, the department provided by the whole writer and only once in his life, I rose not in three-four paved steps, but on hundreds or even thousands of them - disaddle, frustrated, frozen, from darkness And the cold, where I was destined to survive, and others could be with a big gift, stronger me. Of these, only some I met myself on the Archipelago of Gulag, was scattered into a fractional set of islands, yes under the Horry Slotching and distrust did not speak with all sorts, they only heard about others he only guess. Those who have gone to that abyss already with the literary name, at least known - but how many not recognized, have never been publicly called! And almost almost anyone failed to return. The whole national literature remained there, buried not only without a coffin, but even without underwear, naked, with a tag on the finger. Russian literature was not interrupted for any moment! - And the side seemed to the desert. Where a friendly forest could grow, there were two or three randomly loose woods.
Nobel lecture. - According to the statute of Nobel Prizes, a wish is expressed that the laureate in one of the days closest to the ceremony read the lecture on their subject. The genre and the composition of the lectures is not defined. The Nobel Prize was awarded to A. I. Solzhenitsyn in October 1970, but the author did not go to Stockholm to receive her, fearing that he would be pressed the return path to his homeland. The lecture was written in late 1971 - early 1972 in Ilyinsky (near Moscow) to the expected premium award in Moscow, in a private apartment, the secretary of the Swedish Academy Karl Ragnar Girov. However, the Soviet authorities denied him in a visa, and the ceremony did not take place. Then the text of the lecture was secretly replaced in Sweden and was printed in 1972 in Russian, Swedish and English in the official collection of the Nobel Committee "Les Prix Nobel EN 1971". At the same time, the lecture was divided into samizdate in the USSR. In the West, it was repeatedly published in European languages \u200b\u200band in Russian. At home, the lecture was first printed, 18 years after writing it, - in the magazine "New World", 1989, No. 7. Here the text is given by publication: Solzhenitsyn A. I. Publicistics: at 3 t. T. 1. - Yaroslavl: Verkh.-Volge. kn. Publishing house, 1995.
Nobel lecture
1
How is that savage, in bewilderment of a strange emission of the ocean? Sand sams? Or from the sky fallen incomprehensible subject? - The intricate in bends, which is blaming it vaguely, then a bright blow of the beam, "he also turns himself and Syak, turns, looking for how to adapt to business, looking for an affordable low service, without guessing the highest. So we, holding art in the hands, self-confidently read themselves by the owners of him, boldly send it, we refresh it, reform, manifest, we welcome for money, catering strong, we please for entertainment - to pop songs and a night bar, then - a population or a palcot, As you grab, - for political mimobhery needs, for limited social. And art is not defiled by our attempts, does not lose on that of its origin, every time and in every use paying part of their secret inner light. But do you cover all the world? Who dares to say that she determined art? listed all sides of it? And maybe I already understood, and called us in the past century, but we could not stand on Tom: we listened, and neglected, and they leaseed right there, as always, he always rush to change although the best - but only on a new one! And when the old one again, we will not remember that we had it.
One artist misses herself the Creator of the Independent Spiritual World, and takes the act of the creation of this world to his shoulders, the population of him, promptly responsible for him, but is lined up, because the load is so not able to withstand the mortal genius; As in general, a person who declared himself the center of Being, failed to create a balanced spiritual system. And if the failure masters them - they will fill it on the eternal disharmony of the world, the complexity of a modern torn soul or the incomprehensibility of the public. Another - knows the strength of the highest and happily works with a little apprentice under the sky of God, although it is still strictering his responsibility for everything written, drawn, for those who perceive the souls. But: I didn't create this world, it is not controlled by it, there is no doubt in its foundations, the artist is given only to others to feel the harmony of the world, the beauty and disgrace of the human contribution to it - and to sharpen it to people. And in failures and even at the bottom of the existence - in poverty, in prison, in diseases - the feeling of sustainable harmony cannot leave it.
However, all the irrationality of the art, his dazzling twists, unpredictable finds, his shaking effect on people is too magic to exhaust them with the worldview of the artist, his intention or the work of his unworthy fingers. Archaeologists do not discover such early stages of human existence, whenever we have art. Even in the pre-afternoon twilight of humanity, we got it out of the hands, which we did not have time to see. And did not have time to ask: why do we need this gift? How to treat him? And they were mistaken, and all the predictors would be mistaken that art will decompose, outlines their forms, die. I die - we, and it will remain. And do we still understand all the parties before our death and all appoints it? Not all - called. Other goes on words. Art placed even sniffed, darkened soul to high spiritual experience. Through art, it is sometimes sent to us, vaguely, short, - such revelations, what not to develop rational thinking. As a small fairy tale mirror: we look at it and see - not yourself, "you will see a moment. Inaccessible, where not to worry, do not fly. And only the soul is starting ... 
Dostoevsky mysteriously dropped once: "The world will save beauty." What is it? I thought for a long time - just phrase. How would it be possible? When in a bloodthirsty story, whom beauty saved? He addressed, elevated - yes, but who saved? However, there is such a feature in the essence of beauty, a feature in the position of art: persuasiveness of a truly artistic work is completely irrefutable and subordinates even the opposed heart. Political speech, assertive journalism, social life program, the philosophical system can seem to build smoothly, slim and mistaken, and on lies; And what is hidden, and that it is distorted - it will not see him immediately. And it will be released in controversial speech, journalism, the program, the forefloor philosophy, and everything is still slightly slightly and smooth, and again came out. There is because there is a confidence in them - and there is no trust. The question is told that it does not lie to the heart. The work of the artistic test is carried in itself: the concepts invented, stretched, do not withstand the tests on the images: they fall apart and others are collapsed, they do not convince anyone.
On this department with which the Nobel lecture is read, the department provided by far from any writer and only once in his life, I rose not by three-four paved steps, but on hundreds or even thousands of them - disappointly, wound, grind, from darkness and Cold, where I was destined to survive, and others - maybe with a big gift, stronger me, - died. Of these, only some I met myself on the Archipelago of Gulag, was scattered into a fractional set of islands, yes under the Horry Slotching and distrust did not speak with all sorts, they only heard about others he only guess. Those who have gone to that abyss already with the literary name, at least known - but how many not recognized, have never been publicly called! And almost almost anyone failed to return. The whole national literature remained there, buried not only without a coffin, but even without underwear, naked, with a tag on the finger. Russian literature was not interrupted for any moment! - And the side seemed to the desert. Where a friendly forest could grow, there were two or three randomly loose woods.
And today, accompanied by the shadows of the fallen, and with the pronounced head passing forward to this place of others, worthy of earlier, today - how to guess and express what they would like to say? This duty has long been on us, and we understood it. With the words of Vladimir Solovyov: but also in chains we must accomplish the same circle that the gods outlined to us. In the troubling camp, in a column of prisoners, in the MGL of evening frosts with translucent chains of lanterns - more than once merged into the throat, which would like to shout on the whole world if the world could hear some of us. Then it seemed very clearly: what will say our lucky messenger - and how the world will reflect immediately. It was clearly filled with our horizons and bodily objects and mental movements, and in the unfavorable world they did not see the advant. Those thoughts came from books and are not borrowed for wrestling: in prison cells and forest fires, they have developed in conversations with people, now those who are dead, tested by life, from there rose.
When the external pressure was sent - my and our horizons expanded, and gradually, at least in a pitch, I saw and learned that "the whole world". And strikingly for us turned out to be "the whole world" not at all, as we expected, as we hoped: "Not that" living, "not there" going to the marsh and exclamations: "What a charming lawn!", On concrete cervical shrimp : "What a sophisticated necklace!", And where are the neotirny tears, others roll, there are others as the careless Musiculus. How did it happen? Why did this precipice zinul? Insensitive we were? Is the world insensitive? Or is it from the difference of languages? Why not all clear speech people can hear each other? Words are refused and drown as water - without taste, without color, odorless. Without a trace. As I understood it, I changed and changed over the years the composition, the meaning and tone of my possible speech. My today's speech. And there is no little similar to the one originally conceived in frosty campgrounds. 
A man is worn out in such a way that his worldview is when it is not inspired by hypnosis, its motivation and scale of estimates, its actions and intentions are determined by his personal and group life experience. As the Russian proverb says: do not believe the brother by his native, believe in the eye of the curve. And this is the most healthy basis for understanding the surrounding and behavior in it. And the long century, while our world was deeply drawn, until he penetrated with uniform communications lines, did not appeal to a single convulsively beating com, - people accurately gave their life experience in their limited terrain, in their community, in their society, finally At its national territory. Then it was the possibility of a separate human eye to see and take some common score scale: which recognizes average that incredible; What is cruel, that beyond evils; What honesty is that deception. And although the scattered peoples and the scales of their social assessments could have been very differently lived, as their measures did not coincide, these discrepancies were surprised only by rare travelers da fell into magazines, without having any danger of humanity, not yet united.
But over the past few decades, humanity is unnoticed, suddenly it became one - markedly united and dangerous, so concussion and inflamming one part of it is almost instantly transmitted to others, sometimes not having any immunity. Humanity has become united - but not the case, or even a nation has been steadily, or even a nation: not through gradual life experience, not through their own eyes, good-naturedly called curves, not even through the native understandable language, - and, on top of all barriers, through international Radio and print. On us there are a tax of events, half amen of one minute knows about their splash, but the measure - to measure those events and evaluate according to the laws of unknown parts of the world - do not convey and cannot convey on the ether and in newspaper sheets: these measurements are too long and especially tired And they digested in the special life of individual countries and societies, they are not tolerated on the fly. In different parts, it is applied to events their own, stipulated scale of estimates - and disassemble, self-confidently judge only on their scale, and not what someone else.
And such different scales in the world if not set, then in any case there are several: the scale for the closest events and the distance scales; the scale of old societies and the scale of young; Scale of prosperous and disadvantaged. The division scales screak do not coincide, die, cut our eyes, and so that it does not hurt us, we will disappear from all other polls as from the madness, from delusion, - and the whole world confidently judge on their own home scales. That's why it seems to us the largest, hats and unbearably not what is actually the largest, habitual and unbearable, but the fact that closer to us. Still, far, not threatening today to reap the threshold of our house, we recognize us, with all his moans strangled cries, destroyed lives, although b and millions of victims, - in general, completely tolerant and balanced sizes.
In one side, under the chains that are not inferior to Ancient Roman, not so long ago gave life for faith in God hundreds of thousands of silent Christians. In another hemisphere, a certain madman (and probably he is not alone) rushes across the ocean, so that the blow began to free us from religion in the high priest! On his scale, he was so calculated for all of us! The fact that on the same scale seems to be made enviable graceful freedom, then on another scale near the annoying coercion, which is called to turning the buses. The fact that in one edge would have been dreaming as incredible well-being, then in the other edge, outraged as wild exploitation, requiring immediate strike. Different scales for natural disasters: Flooding in two hundred thousand victims seems smaller than our urban case. Different scales for insulting personality: where even an ironic smile degrades and removing movement, where and cruel beatings are exclarable as an unsuccessful joke. Different scales for punishments for atrocities.
On the same scale, the monthly arrest, or a link to the village, or "Cake,", where they feed with white buns and milk, - shock imagination, pour the newspaper strips by anger. And on a different scale are familiar and forgiven - and prison dates for twenty-five years, and kartzers, where on the walls of the ice, but undress to linen, and crazy houses for healthy, and border shootings of countless unreasonable people, everything for some reason somewhere running people . And especially calmly the heart for the exotic region, about which anything is not known at all, from where any events do not reach us, but only the late flat guesses of small correspondents. And for this two, for this dumbfounded misunderstanding of someone else's distant grief, it is impossible to reproach human vision: the man is so arranged. But for a whole mankind, sick in a single com, such mutual misunderstanding threatens close and turbulent death. With six, four, even with two scales there can be no single world, a single humanity: this rhythm difference will ruin us, the difference of oscillations. We do not catch on one land, like not a tenant man with two hearts. 
But who and how is these scales alone? Who will create humanity a unified reference system - for atrocities and gooders, for intolerant and tolerant, how are they delimited today? Who will clarify humanity, which is really hard and unbearably, and that only in proximity rubs the skin to us, - and will send anger to the fact that terrible, and not to the fact that closer? Who would have able to transfer such an understanding through the frontier of his own human experience? Who would have been able to botherly stubborn human essence to inspire other people's distant mountains and joy, understanding the scale and delusion, never experienced themselves? Exile here and propaganda, and coercion, and scientific evidence. But, fortunately, there is a means in the world! This is art. This is literature. Available to them such a miracle: to overcome the flawed feature of a person to learn only on their own experience, so that the experience of others passes to him. From a person to a person who mocks his Kutsa Earth time, art tolerates a whole cargo of someone else's life experience with all its pains, paints, juices, in the flesh, the experience experienced by others is recreated - and gives to assimilate as its own.
And even more, much more than one thing: both countries, and entire continents repeat each other's mistakes with a delay, it happens on the century when it seems so everything is clearly visible! And no: the fact that one people are already already experienced, respectfully and rejected, suddenly detected by others as the newest word. And here too: the only substitute is not experienced by our experience - art, literature. They are given a wonderful ability: through the differences in languages, customs, public use to endure life experience from a whole nation to a whole nation - never experienced by the second difficult major national experience, in a happy case guarding a whole nation from an excessive, or erroneous, or even a destructive way, Those reducing gyrus of human history. About this great blessed property of art, I aggressively remind you today from the Nobel Tribune. And in one priceless direction, irrefutable condensed experience tolerates literature: from generation to generation. So it becomes an animate memory of the nation. So she warm in itself and keeps her lost history - in the form that is not amenable to distortion and enveloping.
Thus, the literature along with the language saves the National Soul. (Recently, it is fashionable to talk about the leveling of nations, about the disappearance of peoples in the boiler of modern civilization. I do not agree with the fact, but the discussion of Togo is a separate question, it is appropriate to say: the disappearance of nations would deplete us no less than if all people were liked , in one character, in one person. The nation is the wealth of humanity, these are generalized personalities; the smallest of them carries their special paints, pays a special line of God's idea.) But the mountain of that nation, which literature is interrupted by the intervention of power: This is not just a violation of "freedom of printing", it is the closure of the national heart, excision of national memory. Nation does not remember itself, the nation is deprived of spiritual unity, - and with general as if compatriots suddenly cease to understand each other. Sorrow and dying dumb generations, who have not told themselves either themselves or descendants. If such masters like Akhmatova or Zamyatin are closed alive for a whole life, condemned to the coffin to create silently, not hearing with their own written, is not only their personal trouble, but grief of the whole nation, but the danger for the whole nation. And in other cases - both for all mankind: when this silence ceases to be understood and the whole is the entire history. 
At different times in different countries, hot, and angrily, and elegantly argued about whether art and artist should live for themselves or eternally remember their duty to society and serve him, albeit unbiased. For me there is no dispute there is no dispute, but I will not raise the rimpets again. One of the most brilliant performances on this topic was the Nobel lecture of Albera Camus - and I joined it to the conclusions. Yes, Russian literature for decades had this roll - not to look too much for himself, do not flutter too much carelessly, and I do not get shattered this tradition to continue as much. In Russian literature, they have repeatedly crushed the idea that the writer can a lot in his people - and should. Let's not pour the artist's right to express our own experiences and self-surveillance, neglecting everything that is done in the rest of the world. Let's not demand from the artist, - but to crumble, but to ask, but will be allowed to call and enjoy us. After all, only in part, he develops his talent itself, in a greater proportion it is distorted in His birth ready - and together with the talent is the responsibility on his free will.
Suppose anything does not have anything to anyone, but it hurts to see how he can, leaving the person or in the space of subjective whims, give the real world into the hands of people's self-relocated, and then insignificant, and even insane. It turned out to be our XX century the tough previous ones, and his first half did not end everything scary in him. The same old cave feelings - greed, envy, unbridled, mutual disadvantage, on the go, taking decent pseudonyms like a class, racial, mass, trade union struggle, rut and tear our world. The cave rejection of compromises was introduced into the theoretical principle and is considered the virtue of orthodoxy. It requires million victims in endless civil wars, it carries into the soul to us that there are no universal sustainable concepts of good and justice that all of them are fluidally changed, and therefore should always come as far as your party. Any professional group as soon as it finds a comfortable moment to snatch a piece, although b and not earned, although B and excess, - immediately pulls him out, and even there, all the society broke out.
The amplitude of the vulgarity of the western society, as seen from the side, is approaching the limit behind which the system becomes metastable and must fall apart. Alternately embarrassed by the framework of centuries-old legitimacy, brazenly and victoriously walks the violence around the world, without worrying that his infertility has already been manifested many times and proved in history. It is even not just a rough strength, but her pipe justification: fills the world by defining confidence that power can all, and the right thing is nothing. Dostoevsky's demons - it seemed that the provincial nightmare fantasy of the last century - in our eyes we will crawl around the world, to such countries where they could not imagine, - by the hijacles of airplanes, the seizures of the hostages, explosions and fires of recent years, will indicate their determination to shake and Destroy civilization! Th, it may well succeed to them.
The youth is at that age, when there is no other experience, except for sexual, when there are no years of their own suffering and their own understanding, - enthusiastically repeats our Russian puzzled backs of the XIX century, and it seems to her that opens something new. The newly angry Hungibin degradation is accepted for a joyful sample. Upper-flavored misunderstanding of the eternal humanities, the naive confidence of the insignificant hearts: these people, greedy oppressants, rulers, and the following (we!), Postponing grenades and automata, will be fair and sympathetic. As if not like that! .. And who lived and understand who could argue this youth, - many do not mind objectively, they even look, just not seem "conservatives", - again the Russian phenomenon, the XIX century, Dostoevsky called him "slavery For advanced idea.
The spirit of Munich - did not go to the past, he was not a short episode. I even dare even say that the Spirit of Munich prevails in the 20th century. A stranded civilized world in front of Natius suddenly stunned scalled barbarism did not find anything else to oppose him as concessions and smiles. Munich's spirit There is a disease of the will of prosperous people, he is the daily state of those who surrendered to the thirst for prosperity by all means, material well-being as the main goal of earthly existence. Such people - and the many of them in today's world - choose passivity and deviations, only a familiar life would have stretched, only today it would be to step into severity, and tomorrow, you see, it will cost ... (but will never cost! - the payback for cowardice will be Only evil. Courage and ending come to us, only when we are solved for the victims.) And we still threaten the deaths that the physically compressed mighty world is not allowed to merge spiritually, do not give molecules knowledge and sympathy jump from one half to another. This is a little danger: suppression of information between the parts of the planet.
Modern science knows that the suppression of information is the path of entropy, universal destruction. Promotions of information makes ghostly international signatures and contracts: Inside the stunned zone, any contract is worth it to overtake anything, and even easier - to forget, he, as it were, never existed (this manroom understood perfectly). Inside the stunned zone, there are no residents of the Earth, but the Martian Expeditionary Corps, they really do not know anything about the rest of the earth and will be ready to go into the holy confidence that "free." A quarter of a century ago, the United Nations was born in the great hopes of humanity. Alas, immoral and she rose in the immoral world. These are not the United Nations, but the organization of the combined governments, where they are equalized and freely elected, and forcibly imposed, and weapons seized power.
The mercenary addiction of the majority of the UN jealous will take care of the freedom of some nations and in negligence leaves the freedom of others. With pleased voting, she rejected the consideration of private complaints - moans, screams and gelects of single little people just people, too small bugs for such a great organization. The document is your best for 25 years - the Declaration of Human Rights - the UN has not stood to make mandatory for governments, the condition of their membership, and so betrayed young people the will of the governments not elected by them. - It would seem: the appearance of the modern world is all in the hands of scientists, all the technical steps of mankind are solved by them. It would seem: it was from the World Commonwealth of Scientists, and not from politicians should depend on the world to go. Especially since the example of units shows how much they could move all together. But no, scientists did not appeal to a bright attempt to become an important independent force of humanity. They are allocated to other people's congresses: the coat remains within the borders of science. All the same Spirit Munich overwhelmed her relaxing wings over them.
What are you in this cruel, dynamic, explosive world, on the drawing of his ten deaths, is the place and role of the writer? We are not at all about the rockets, do not even drive the last utility trolley, we are at all in contempt for those who respect one material power. Whether it is also not natural to retreat, to break the non-omitibilities of good, in the defendability of the truth and only to behave our bitter third-party observations, how hopelessly enduring humanity, how did people crumble and how hard the people have lonely thin beautiful souls? But this escape - no. One day, after holding the word, it's never to evange: the writer is not a foreign judge with his compatriots and contemporaries, he is a clerk in all evil, committed from him in his homeland or his people. And if the tanks of his fatherland poured the asphalt asphalt by the capital, then the brown stains forever looked the face of the writer. And if in the fatal night they suffered a sleeping gullible friend, then on the palms of the writer bruises from that rope. And if his young fellow citizens declare the superiority of debauchery over modest labor, they are given to drugs or have enough hostages, it is mixed with the stench with the breath of the writer. Will we find the audacity to declare that we are not the defendants for today's ulcers? 
However, it encourages me a living sense of world literature as a single big heart, who has been worried about the concerns and troubles of our world, although in its own way presented and visible in every corner. In addition to the original national literatures, there was also the concept of world literature in the previous centuries - as an envelope on the tops of national and as a set of literary interchanges. But there was a delay in time: readers and writers learned writers of foreign-speaking with late, sometimes centuries, so that the mutual influences were late and the envelope of national literary vertices appeared in the eyes of descendants, not contemporaries. And today between the writers of one country and writers and readers, there is another interaction if not instant, then close to that, I feel it myself. Not printed, alas, in their homeland, my books, despite hasty and often ill transfers, quickly found themselves a responsive world reader. Their critical analysis of them was engaged in such outstanding Writers of the West as Heinrich Böll.
All these last years, when my work and freedom did not collapse, kept against the laws of gravity as if in the air, as if on anything - on an invisible, very tension of the sympathetic public film, - I am grateful to warmth, I learned quite unexpected for my support and World fraternity of writers. On the day of my 50th anniversary I was amazed, having received congratulations from famous European writers. No pressure on me has passed unnoticed. The exceptions of the Writing Union dangerous for me for me, the Wall of Protection, nominated by prominent writers of the world, fastened me from the worst persecutions, and the Norwegian writers and artists in the case of the exile in the case of my homeland had been hospitably prepared for me. Finally, and the very nomination of me on the Nobel Prize was not initiated in the country where I live and write, but - Francois Moriak and his colleagues. And even later, entire national writing associations expressed support for me.
So I understood and felt on myself: World Literature - no longer distracted envelope, no longer a generalization created by literary criticism, but a certain common body and a common spirit, a living heart unity, which reflects the growing spiritual unity of mankind. The state borders who are still faded under the current and automatic queues, other ministries of internal affairs believe that the literature is "internal affair" of the countries subordinate to them, newspaper headlines are still being exposed: "Not their right to interfere in our internal affairs!", - Meanwhile, the internal affairs did not remain on our cramped land at all! And the salvation of mankind is only that everything was the case to all: people of the East would be completely not indifferent to what they think in the West; To people of the West - it is clear that it is not sensible, which is performed in the east. And artistic literature - from the finest, responsive tools of the human being - one of the first has already adopted, having learned, picked up this feeling of the growing unity of mankind. And so I confidently appeal to the world literature of today - to hundreds of friends who have never met advent and may never see.
Friends! And let's try to settle, if we stand something! In their countries, torn by the multi-chance of parties, movements, castes and groups, who is an encouraged by the power not disconnecting, but uniting? This is the very position of the writers: the national language expressions are the main fastening of the nation - and the Earth itself occupied by the people, and in the happy case and the National Soul. I think that the world literature can help him correctly learn himself against the fact that he inspired by affairs and parties; To transfer the condensed experience of some edges to others, so that it stops two of us and rip out in the eyes, would be combined by dividing the scales, and some nations would learn correctly and compressed the true story of others with the strength of recognition and painful sensation, as if they were experiencing it, - And it would be covered by captured cruel errors. And at the same time, we can be able to develop in ourselves and world vision: the center of the eye, like every person, seeing close, the edges of the eye will begin to choose and what is done in the rest of the world. And relate, and observe world proportions.
And to whom, if not writers, express the censure not only to their unsuccessful rulers (in other states it is the easiest bread, this is busy with anyone who is not labeled), but - and its society, in whether it is a cowardly humiliation or in self-satisfied weakness, but - And the lightweight throws of young people, and young pirates with swinging knives? They will tell us: Well, maybe literature against the ruthless onslaught of open violence? A: I will not forget that violence does not live one thing and it is not able to live one thing: it certainly woven with a lie. Between them the most related, the most natural deep connection: violence there is nothing to hide behind, except for lies, and there are no lies to stay, except for violence. Anyone who once proclaimed violence by her method, it must be inexorably to choose a lie with its principle. Breeding, violence acts openly and is even proud of themselves. But hardly it will strengthen, it will be established - it feels the pouring of the air around him and cannot exist further otherwise, how bolding into a lie, hiding behind it with sweets. It is no longer always, it does not necessarily shuffle a throat, more often it requires only the oath of lies, only complicity in lies.
And the simple step is a simple courageous person: do not participate in lies, do not support false actions! Let it come to the world and even reigns in the world, but not through me. Writers and artists are available more: to defeat lies. Always won art in the struggle with a lie, always wins! - Speaking, irrefutable for everyone! A few can be lifted against a lot in the world - but not against art. And barely dispelled will be a lie, the nudice of violence disgustly will open - and the violence is falling. That's why I think, friends that we are able to help the world in his split hour. DO NOT TO TALK UNIQUE, DO NOT SUPPLY BUY LIFE, - But go to battle! In Russian, proverbs about the truth are favorite. They persistently express a considerable heavy experience, and sometimes, amazing:
One word of truth is the whole world will drag.
Here on such an imaginary impairment of the law of preserving masses and energies, my own activity is based, and my call for writers is based.
all over the world.
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How is that savage, in bewilderment of a strange emission of the ocean?
sand sams? Or from the sky fallen incomprehensible subject? - Introduction B.
bends, thanssing it vaguely, then a bright blow of the beam, - he turns him and
syak, turns, looking for how to adapt to business, is looking for him an affordable lower
services, without guessing the highest.
And we, holding art in your hands, self-confidently read ourselves by the owners
his, boldly he guide, update, reform, manifest, sell for
money catering strong, turn to entertainment - to pop
song and Night Bar, then - Zatuchka or Palko, how to grab - for
political mimobhery needs, for limited social. And art is not
desets our attempts, does not lose on that of its origin, all
once and in every use paying for us some of their secret internal
But does it cover the next light? Who dares to say what determined
Art? listed all sides of it? And maybe already understood and
called us in past centuries, but we could not stand on that: we
listened, and neglected, and leaning right there, as always, hurry to change at least
and the best - but only new! And when again we will say old, we
already do not remember that it was we had.
One artist misses himself the creator of an independent spiritual world and
putting the act of creation of this world to his shoulders, its population, comprehensive
responsibility for it - but is closed, because the load is not capable of
withstand mortal genius; As in general, a person who announced himself
being, failed to create a balanced spiritual system. And if he possesses
they fail, - they will fly it to the eternal disharmony of the world, for complexity
modern torn soul or incomprehensibility to the public.
Another - knows the power of the highest and happily works little
apprentice under the sky of God, although it is still strictering his responsibility for everything
written, drawn, for perceiving souls. But: not this world
created, not controlled by him, no doubt in its foundations, the artist is given only
other to feel the harmony of the world, the beauty and disgrace of the human
the contribution to it - and sharply transfer it to people. And in failures and even at the bottom
existence - in poverty, in prison, in diseases - feeling sustainable
harmony can not leave him.
However, all the irrationality of art, his dazzling twist,
unpredictable finds, its shaking effect on people, - too
magic to exhaust them with the worldview of the artist, his intention or
the work of his unworthy fingers.
Archaeologists do not detect such early stages of human
existence, whenever we were art. Back in the preliminary twilight
we got it out of hand, which did not have time to see. And ne.
we managed to ask: Will this gift for us? How to treat him?
And mistaken, and all the predictors will be mistaken that art will decompose
givel your forms, die. We will die - we, and it will remain. And still understand
are we before our death all sides and all appointed it?
even darkened, darkened soul to high spiritual experience. Through.
art is sometimes sent to us, vaguely, short, - such revelations, what
do not work out rational thinking.
Like a small fairy tales mirror: we look at him and see - not yourself,
You will see the moment inaccessible, where not to countenance, do not fly. And only soul
he starts ...
Dostoevsky mysteriously dropped once: "The world will save beauty." What is it?
I thought for a long time - just phrase. How would it be possible? When in bloodthirsty
stories, whom beauty saved? Added, elevated - yes, but
who saved?
However, there is such a feature in the essence of beauty, feature in position
art: persuasiveness of the truly artistic work
irrefutable and subordinates even the opposing heart. Political
establish journalism, social life program, philosophical system
you can seem to build smoothly, slim and mistaken, and on lies; So what
hidden, and what is distorted - it will not be seen immediately. And will come to the dispute
anti-confined speech, publicism, program, forefloor philosophy,
And everything is still slightly slightly and smooth, and again came out. Because confidence k.
it is - and there is no trust.
The question is told that it does not lie to the heart.
The work of the artistic check is carried in itself:
concepts invented, stretched not withstand tests on images:
they fall apart and those and others, they turn out to be chille, pale, do not convince anyone.
Works, who have grown truths and submitted to us condensed-alive,
capture us, bring to themselves power, - and no one, never even through
century, not appear to refute them.
So maybe it is the old trinity of truth, good and beauty - not
just the parade dilapidated formula, as it seemed to us at the time of our
summaging materialistic youth? If the vertices of these three trees
converge, according to the researchers, but too explicit, too straight
the truths and good are crushed, cut down, are not skipped, something can
be bizarre, unpredictable, unexpected beauty swords break and
are you going to the same place, and so do work for all three?
And then not a scratch, but the prophecy is written in Dostoevsky: "Peace
save the beauty "? After all, he was given a lot to see, illuminated him surprisingly.
And then art, literature can actually help today's world?
Then a little that I managed to see me over the years in this task, I and
i will try to present here today.
On this department, which is read by the Nobel lecture, the Department,
not all writer and only once in life, I rose
not for three-four paved steps, but on hundreds or even thousands of them
Disappoint, breaking, frozen, from darkness and cold, where it was destined to me
surger, and others - can be with a big gift, stronger me - died. Of
they only met some of them himself on the Archipelago of Gulag, scanned on
fractional set of islands, yes under the millstone surveillance and distrust not with all
told, about other only heard, about the third only guess. Those who
i went to that abyss with a literary name, at least known, - but
how many not recognized, never publicly not mentioned! and almost almost no one
managed to return. The whole national literature remained there, buried
not only without a coffin, but even without underwear, naked, with a tag on the finger
legs. Russian literature was not interrupted for any moment! - and the side seemed
desert. Where a friendly forest could grow, left after all forestry
two or three randomly looked trees.
And today, accompanied by shadows of the fallen, and with the adopted head
passing forward to this place of others worthy of earlier, today -
how to guess and express what would you like to say about N and?
This duty has long been on us, and we understood it. In words
Vladimir Solovyova:
But in chains, we must accomplish the same circle that the gods outlined to us.
In the troubling camp, in the column of prisoners, in the MGL
evening frosts with translucent chains of lamps - more than once
we are in the throat that I would like to shout on the whole world if the world could
hear someone from us. Then it seemed very clear: what will say our
lucky messenger - and how the world will immediately respond will respond. Was distinctly
filled our horizons and bodily objects, and spiritual motions, and in
the unfavorable world did not see the advantage. Those thoughts came not from books and not
borrowed for wrestling: in prison cells and forest fires they
developed in conversations with people, now died, t about life tested, about
t T U D A rose.
When there was an external pressure - my and our horizons expanded
and gradually, at least in a crack, I saw and learned that "the whole world." AND
strikingly for us turned out to be "the whole world" not at all like we expected
as we hoped: "Not the" living, "not there" going on, on a swamp
exclamation: "What a charming lawn!" - on concrete cervical
pads: "What a sophisticated necklace!" - And where is the neotir
tears, there others are asked for careless Music.
How did it happen? Why did this precipice zinul? Effective were
we? Is the world insensitive? Or is it from the difference of languages? Why not everyone
independent speech people are able to hear each other? Words are refused by I.
breaking like water - without taste, without color, odorless. Without a trace.
As I understood it, I changed and changed the composition over the years,
the meaning and tone of my possible speech. My today's speech.
And there is little, it looks like that, originally conceived in the frosty
camp nights.
A man is worn out so that his worldview is when it is not
inspired by hypnosis, its motivation and scale of estimates, its actions and intentions
defined by his personal and group life experience. As Russian says
proverb: "Do not believe my brother by native, believe in his eye curve." And this -
the most healthy foundation for understanding the surrounding and behavior in it. And long
century, while our world was deaf, mysteriously spread, until he penetrated
unified lines of communication, did not appeal to a single convulsively beating com, - People
accidentally gathered their life experiences in their limited
terrain, in its community, in its society, finally, and on its
national territory. Then it was an opportunity for individual human
eyes to see and take some common score scale: What is recognized by the average,
what is incredible; What is cruel, that beyond evils; What honesty is that
cheat. And although the scattered peoples lived very differently, and their scales
social estimates could not coincide straight, as they did not coincide
measures of measures, these discrepancies were surprised only by rare travelers, yes
they fell out in magazines, not carrying any danger to mankind,
not one.
But in recent decades, humanity has imperceptibly, suddenly
single - encouragingly united and dangerous, so concussion and inflammation
it is almost instantly transmitted to another, sometimes not having to
no immunity. Humanity has become united - but not as before
there were a steadily united community or even a nation: not through the gradual
life experience, not through their own eyes, good-naturedly called curves, even
not through the native understandable language - and, on top of all barriers, through
international Radio and Printing. On us there are rolling of events, polim in one
a minute knows about their splash, but measurement - measure those events and evaluate
the laws of unknown parts of the world - do not convey and cannot convey
efira and newspaper sheets: these measurements for too long and especially tired and
digested in the special lives of individual countries and societies, they are not transferred to
fly In different parts to events apply their own, stolen scale
estimates - and disassemble, self-confidently judge only on their scale, and not
what a stranger.
And such different scales in the world if not many, then in any case
several: Scale for near events and long-distance scale; Scale old
societies and the scale of young; Scale of prosperous and disadvantaged. Division scales
do not coincide screaming, die, cut our eyes, and so that it hurts us,
we will disappear from all other polls as from madness, from delusion, and all
the world is confidently judged by their home scale. Because it seems to us the biggest,
higher and unbearable, not what is actually the largest, and
unbearable, and the fact that closer to us. Yet far, not threatening straight
today to get to the threshold of our house, recognized by us, with all his
moans strangled cries, destroyed lives, although b and millions
victims - in general, completely tolerant and balanced sizes.
On one side, under the chains, not inferior to the Ancient Roman, not
hundreds of thousands of silent Christians have long gave life for faith in God. In a different
hemisphere Some madman (and probably he is not alone) rushes across the ocean so
the blow of steel in the high priest to free us from religion! On his scale he
so calculated for all for us!
That on the same scale is represented by an enviable graceful
freedom, then on a different scale, closely felt annoying coercion,
calling to turning buses. What in one edge would be dreaming like
incredible well-being, then in the other edge pertures as wild
operation requiring immediate strike. Different scales for spontaneous
disasters: Flooding in two hundred thousand victims seems the smallest of our urban
case. Different scales for insulting personality: where even ironic is humiliated
smile and removing movement, where and cruel beatings are forward
bad joke. Different scales for punishments for atrocities. One scale
buns and milk, - shock imagination, pour newspaper strips
anger. And on another scale are familiar and forgiven - and prison dates for twenty
five years and karzers, where ice on the walls, but undress to linen, and crazy
homes for healthy, and border shootings countless unreasonable, all
for some reason somewhere running people. And especially calmly the heart for that
the exotic region, about which is not known at all, from where the events are
we do not reach any, but only late flat guesses of small
correspondents.
And for this two, for this is a dumbfounded misunderstanding of alien far grief
it is impossible to reproach human vision: the man is so arranged. But for the whole
mankind, appended in a single com, such mutual misunderstanding threatens
close and turbulent death. At six, four, even with two scales can not
being a single world, a single mankind: we will tear us this difference of rhythm,
the difference of oscillations. We do not stay on one land, like not a residential man with two
hearts.
But who and how is these scales alone? Who will create a single humanity
reference system - for atrocities and wellness, for intolerant and tolerant,
how do they delimit today? Who will clarify mankind that
really hard and unbearably, and that only nearby rubs the skin to us,
And will he guilty to the fact that terrible, and not to the fact that closer? Who managed
would be transferring such an understanding through the frontier of your own human experience?
Who would have managed the oblique stubborn human essence to inspire other people
grief and joy, understanding of the scale and delusion, never experienced by him
yourself? Exile here and propaganda, and coercion, and scientific evidence.
But, fortunately, there is a means in the world! This is art. It -
literature.
Available to them such a miracle: overcome the flawed feature of the person
learn only on your own experience, so that the experience of others comes to him.
From person to man, I am mightying his kuts earthly time, art
transfers entirely a load of someone else's life experience with all his
trucks, paints, juices, in the flesh, recreates the experience experienced by others -
and gives learning as your own.
And even more, much more than one thing: both countries and entire continents
repeat each other's errors with a delay, sometimes on the century, when it seems
so everything is clearly visible! And no: the fact that one people are already already experienced,
respectfully and rejected, suddenly detected by others as the most newest
word. And here too: the only substitute will not experience the experience -
art, literature. The wonderful ability is given to them: through the differences in languages,
customs, public uklade to transfer life experience from the whole nation to
whole nation - never experienced by this second difficult multi-year
national experience, in a happy case, protecting a whole nation from excessive,
or erroneous, or even a destructive way, the reducing winding
human history.
About this great blessed property of art I aggressively
i remind you today from the Nobel Tribune.
And in one priceless direction transfers the irrefutable literature
condensed experience: from generation to generation. So she becomes anx
nation. So she warm in itself and keeps her lost story - in the form, not
distribution and enveloping. Thus, literature along with the language
saves the National Soul.
(Recently, it is fashionable to talk about the leveling of nations, about the disappearance
peoples in the boiler of modern civilization. I do not agree with that, but discussion
togo - a separate question, it is appropriate to say: the disappearance of nations
would drop us no less than if all people were likened, in one
character, in one person. Nation is the wealth of humanity, these are generalized
his personality; The smallest of them carries their special paints, in itself
a special line of God's design.)
But grief of that nation, which literature is interrupted by interference
forces: This is not just a violation of "Freedom of Printing", it is a closed
national Heart, excision of national memory. Nation does not remember itself
ourselves, nation deprives spiritual unity - and with general as if
compatriots suddenly cease to understand each other. Sorrow and dying
silent generations that have not told themselves or descendants or descendants. If a
masters such as Akhmatova or Zamyatin, all their lives are closed alive,
condemned to the coffin to create silently, not hearing with its written, is
not only their personal trouble, but the grief of the whole nation, but the danger to the whole nation. BUT
in other cases - both for all mankind: when from such silence
it ceases to be understood and the entire story.
At different times in different countries, hot, and angrily, and elegantly argued about
tom, should art and artist live for themselves or permanently remember
my duty to society and serve him, albeit unbiased. For me here
there is no dispute, but I will not raise the rimpets again. One of the most
brilliant performances on this topic was the Nobel lecture Albert Cami -
and I am glad to join her conclusions. Yes Russian literature
decades had this roll - not to look too much on itself, not
fuck too much, and I do not get shattered this tradition to continue as
forces. In Russian literature, they have repeatedly fought by the idea that the writer
maybe much in their people - and must.
We will not pour the rights of the artist to express exclusively
experiences and self-surveillance, neglecting everything that is done otherwise
world. We will not demand from the artist, - but to crumble, but ask, but
call and enjoy allowed to us. After all, only in part it develops
his dating himself, mostly, it is distorted in His Birthday Ready -
and together with the talent, it is responsible for his free will.
Suppose the artist does not have anything to anyone, but it hurts to see how he can
leaving the branches or the space of subjective whims,
give the real world into the hands of people's mercenary, and then insignificant, and even
mad.
Turned out to be our XX century the tough previous ones, and his first half is not
it ended all the scary in it. The same old cave feelings - greed,
envy, irreducible, mutual ill-witness, - on the go taking
decent pseudonyms like class, racial, mass, trade union struggle,
rvut and tear our world. Cave rejection of compromises was introduced in
theoretical principle is considered virtue of orthodoxy. It requires
million victims in endless civil wars, it burns into the soul
us that there are no universal sustainable concepts of good and justice that
all of them are fluid, change, and therefore should always come as profitable
your party. Any professional group as soon as finds comfortable
moment snatch a piece, although b and not earned, although b and excess, - here
but he pulls him out, and there even a society broke out. Thrust amplitude
western society, as seen from the part, is approaching the limit for
which the system becomes metastable and must fall apart. All less
stayed by the frames of centuries-old legality, brazenly and victorious walks throughout
the world violence without worrying that his infertility has been manifested many times and
proved in history. Triumph is not even just a rough strength, but her pipe
excuse: Falls the world by defining confidence that power can all, and the right thing
Nothing. Dostoevsky's demons - It seemed a provincial nightmare fantasy
last century, in our eyes sprawled around the world, to such countries,
where and they could not imagine, - and here by theft of aircraft, seizures
hostages, explosions and fires of recent years are about their determination
shack and destroy civilization! And it may well succeed to them. The youth
At that age, when there is still no other experience, except sexual when
shoulders are not yet years of their own suffering and their own understanding -
enthusiastically repeats our Russian torn boards of the XIX century, and it seems to her
what opens something new. Novoyed Hungaibin degradation to
nonignotia is accepted for a joyful pattern. Upper-flavored misunderstanding
eternal human essence, naive confidence of not moving hearts: here is
and x-like, greedy oppressors, rulers run, and the following (we!),
having postponing grenades and automata, will be fair and sympathetic. No matter how
so! .. And who lived and understand who could argue this youth - many
do not dare to object, even crush, just not seem
"Conservatives" - again the phenomenon of the Russian, XIX century, Dostoevsky called
its "slavery for advanced idea."
Munich's spirit - I did not go to the past, he was not short
episode. I even dare even say that the Spirit of Munich prevails in the 20th century.
Orobeery civilized world before Natius suddenly buried
craked barbarism did not find anything else to oppose him as
concessions and smiles. The Spirit of Munich is a disease of the will of prosperous people, he is
the daily state of those who surrendered the thirst for prosperity in
it became, material well-being as the main goal of terrestrial existence. Such
people - and many of them in today's world - elect passivity and
step into severity, and tomorrow you look, it will cost ... (but never
huming! - Payback for cowardice will be only evil. Courage and borrowing
come to us only when we are solved for the victims.) And we still threaten death,
that physically compressed crammed world is not allowed to merge spiritually, do not give
molecules of knowledge and sympathy jump from one half to another. it
which danger: suppression of information between the parts of the planet. Contemporary
science knows that the suppression of the information is the path of entropy, universal
destruction. Encluting information makes ghostly international signatures and
contracts: Inside a stunned zone, any contract is worth nothing
change, and even easier - to forget, he no longer existed
(It understood it perfectly perfectly). Inside the stunned zone live as if non-residents
Land, and the Martian Expeditionary Corps, they really do not know anything about
the rest of the earth and are ready to go into the holy confidence that
"Release".
A quarter of a century ago in the great hopes of humanity was born
United Nations. Alas, in the immoral world rose
immoral and she. This is not the United Nations, but the organization
United governments, where equalized and freely elected, and
forcibly imposed, and weapons who captured power. Mercenary
the preferences of the majority of UN jealous care about the freedom of some nations and in
not carelessness leaves the freedom of others. She rejected
consideration of private complaints - moans, screams and gelects of single small
just people, too small bugs for such a great organization. Its own
best for twenty-five years Document - Declaration of Human Rights - UN
sounded to make mandatory for governments the condition of their membership - and
so betrayed young people will be the will of the governments not elected by them.
It would seem: the appearance of the modern world is all in the hands of scientists, all
technical steps of humanity are solved by them. It would seem that
the World Commonwealth of Scientists, and not from politicians should depend where the world
go. Especially since the example of units shows how much they could
shift all together. But no, scientists did not appeal to the bright attempt to become an important
independent force of humanity. Whole congresses
they are excited from other people's suffering: the coat remains within the borders of science. Everything
the same Spirit Munich overwhelmed her relaxing wings over them.
What are you in this cruel, dynamic, explosive world on his draw
deaths - the place and role of the writer? We are not at all a helmet of missiles, do not even ride
the last subsidiary trolley, we are at all in contempt of those who respect one
material power. Do we naturally, too, to retreat, break in
non-omnibilities of good, in the defendability of the truth and only to behave their own
bitter third-party observations as hopelessly endapproed mankind like
people crushed and how difficult it is to live with lonely thin beautiful souls?
But this escape - no. Once holding the word, already then
never evange: a writer is not a stranger judge
compatriots and contemporaries, he is the Covenant in all evil, perfect
he is in his homeland or his people. And if the tanks of his fatherland poured blood
the asphalt of a foreign capital, then the brown spots forever climbed the face of the writer. AND
if in the fatal night suffered a sleeping gullible friend, then on the palms
writer bruises from that rope. And if his fellow citizens is unleashed
declare the superiority of debauchery over modest labor, given to drugs
and they grab hostages, then it is mixed with the stench with the breath of the writer.
Will we find the boldness to declare that we are not the defendants for today's ulcers
However, encourages me a living sense of world literature as a single
big heart, kneading about the concerns and troubles of our world, although in its own way
presented and visible in every corner.
In addition to the original national literatures, there existed in the old century
the concept of world literature - as envelope on the tops of national and how
a combination of literary mutual influences. But there was a delay in time:
readers and writers learned writers foreign-speaking with late, sometimes
century, so that the mutual influences were late, and the envelope of the national
literary vertices appeared already in the eyes of descendants, not contemporaries.
And today between the writers of one country and writers and readers
another is the interaction if not instant, then close to that I myself am on
i feel it yourself. Not printed, alas, at home, my books, despite
hasty and often ill transfers, quickly found themselves responsive world
reader. Critical analysis of them took such outstanding WATER writers,
like Henry Bell. All these last years, when my work and freedom is not
collapsed, held against the laws of gravity as if in the air, as if neither
on which - on the invisible, a very tension of a sympathetic public film - I
with grateful warmth, completely unexpected for myself learned support and
world fraternity of writers. On the day of my fiftieth anniversary I was amazed
having received congratulations from famous European writers. No pressure on
i did not pass unnoticed. In dangerous exceptions for me
from the writer's union - a wall of protection, nominated by prominent writers of the world,
i fastened me from the worst persecutions, and the Norwegian writers and artists on
the case of exile threatened to me from homeland was hospitably prepared for me.
Finally, and the extension itself is not initiated against the Nobel Prize
the country where I live and write, but - Francois Moriak and his colleagues. And further
later, entire national writing associations expressed support
So I understood and felt on myself: world literature - no longer distracted
envelope, no longer a generalization created by literary criticism, but some common body
and the overall spirit, living hearty unity, which reflects the growing
spiritual unity of mankind. Still border state borders
rolled down under current and automatic queues, other
the Ministry of the Interior believes that the literature is "internal affair"
published countries, newspaper headlines are still exhibited: "Not their right
intervene in our internal affairs! "- And meanwhile internal affairs at all
it remains on our cramped land! And the salvation of mankind is only to
everyone was dealing to everything: the people of the East would be completely discriminating that
think in the West; To people of the West - it is not easy to find it that
East. And fiction - from the finest, responsive
tools of the human being - one of the first has already taken over, learned,
she picked up this feeling of the growing unity of mankind. And here I am confident
i appeal to world literature today - to hundreds of friends, who
i have never met that and maybe I will never see.
Friends! And let's try to settle, if we stand something! In their
correction was the power not disconnecting, but uniting? This is by the very essence
position of Writers: National Language Expansions - the main fasten
nation and the very land occupied by the people, and in the happy case and
national Soul.
I think that world literature is under the power of these alarming hours
mankind to help him correct to know himself contrary to what inspires
prissual people and parties: transfer the condensed experience of some edges in
others so that you have stopped two and crippled in our eyes, combined
would divide the scales, and some nations would learn right and compressed the true story
others with the strength of recognition and painful feeling as if they survived her
ourselves, - and thus it would be from late cruel mistakes. And we ourselves
at the same time, perhaps, we will be able to develop and global vision: the center of the eye,
like every person, seeing close, the edges of the eye will begin to choose that
made in the rest of the world. And relate, and comply with world proportions.
And to whom, if not writers, express the censure not only
unsuccessful rulers (in other states it is the easiest bread, this is busy
anyone who is not too lazy), but - and to his society, in him a cowardly humiliation
or in self-satisfied weakness, but - and lightweight shots of young people, and young
pirates with swing knives?
Will be said to us: Well, maybe literature against ruthless natisk
open violence? A: I will not forget that violence does not live one and not capable
to live one thing: it certainly woven with a lie. Between them the most related
the most natural deep connection: violence there is nothing to cover, except for lies, and lies
there is nothing to keep, except for violence. Anyone who once proclaimed
violence by its method, inexorably should choose a lie to its principle.
Breeding, violence acts openly and is even proud of themselves. But barely it
it will strengthen, it will be established - it feels airborne air around him and not
sweet. It is no longer always, it does not necessarily shuffle a throat, more often it
it requires only the oath of lies, only complicity in lies.
And simple step of a simple courageous person: do not participate in lies,
do not support false actions! Let E T O Coming into the world and even reigns in
the world is not through me. Writers and artists are available more:
to defeat false! I always won art in the struggle with a lie, always
winning! - Speaking, irrefutable for everyone! Against a lot in the world can
stand lies - but not against art. And barely dispelled
The nudity of violence disgustly will open - and the violence is falling.
That's why I think friends that we are able to help the world in his
raised hour. Not to behave unarmed, do not surrender careless
life - But go to battle!
In Russian, proverbs about the truth are favorite. They express persistently
considerable severe people's experience, and sometimes amazing:
One word of truth is the whole world will drag.
Here on such a minimo-fiction violation of the law of preserving the masses and
the energies are based and my own activity, and my call for writers
How is that savage, in bewilderment of a strange emission of the ocean? Sand sams? Or from the sky fallen incomprehensible subject? - The intricate in bends, which is blaming it vaguely, then a bright blow of the beam, "he also turns himself and Syak, turns, looking for how to adapt to business, looking for an affordable low service, without guessing the highest.
So we, holding art in the hands, self-confidently honor themselves by the owners of him, boldly he guide, we refresh, reform, manifest, we sell for money, catering strong, turn to the entertainment - to pop songs and a night bar, then - a drain or palcot, As you grab, - for political mimobhery needs, for limited social. And art is not defiled by our attempts, does not lose on that of its origin, every time and in every use paying part of their secret inner light.
Alexander Isaevich Solzhenitsyn
But cover Lie all that light? Who dares to say that determined Art? listed all sides of it? Or maybe already understood, and called us in past centuries, but we could not stand it for a short time: we listened, and neglected, and lean it right there, as always, hurry to change although the best - but only for a new one! And when the old one again, we will not remember that we had it.
One artist misses herself the Creator of an independent spiritual world and boils the act of creation of this world on his shoulders, his population, which is liable for him, but is closed, because the load is not able to withstand the mortal genius; As in general, a person who declared himself the center of Being, failed to create a balanced spiritual system. And if there is a failure to them, - they will fill her on the eternal disharmonicity of the world, the complexity of a modern torn soul or the incomprehensibility of the public.
Another - knows the strength of the highest and happily works with a little apprentice under the sky of God, although it is still strictering his responsibility for everything written, drawn, for those who perceive the souls. But: I didn't create this world, it is not controlled by it, there is no doubt in its foundations, the artist is given only to others to feel the harmony of the world, the beauty and disgrace of the human contribution to it - and to sharpen it to people. And in failures and even at the bottom of the existence - in poverty, in prison, in diseases - the feeling of sustainable harmony cannot leave it.
However, all the irrationality of the art, his dazzling twists, unpredictable finds, its shaking effect on people, are too magic to exhaust them with the worldview of the artist, his intention or the work of his unworthy fingers.
Archaeologists do not discover such early stages of human existence, whenever we have art. In the pre-afternoon twilight of humanity, we got it out of the hands, which we did not have time to see. And did not have time to ask: what for Do we have this gift? How to treat him?
And they were mistaken, and all the predictors will be mistaken, that the art will decompose, outlines their forms, die. We will die - we, and it will remain. And will we still understand all the parties and all the appointments of it?
Not all - called. Other entails the words. Art placed even sniffed, darkened soul to high spiritual experience. Through art, it is sometimes sent to us, vaguely, short, - such revelations, what not to develop rational thinking.
Like the small mirror of fairy tales: we look at him and see - not yourself, "you will see unavailable on the moment, where not to counterack, do not fly. And only the soul is starting ...