Shame

Yes, I am again speaking about the same man — hopefully, for the last time. Anyway, I can’t think of anything else. I understand that there is little that depends on me. Those who will vote on Sunday for the handsome man with specific charisma don’t read The Ukrainian Week. I am tempted to assume that they don’t reading anything at all, but this would be snobbish.

All the grievances against Him formulated within a rational reference framework were set forth, argued for, and systematised a long time ago, and many times at that. Some are ready to tolerate them, while others embrace them. This is a question of attitudes, not taste. What I want to speak about here is precisely taste. There is no disputing about tastes, they say. Let me tell you that there are indeed no small disputes about tastes. The style is the man.

Traditionally, the head of state — any state — does not only have the function of representation but also embodies this state on a symbolic, semi-mystic level. In our everyday life there are quite a few things that are rooted in ancient history, and we are not even aware of them. Chiefs, princes, and monarchs have been considered sacred since time immemorial. They literally embodied the potency of a tribe of nation — of course, in a figurative sense, but also in the literal sense. The personality of the leader can be considered to define the image of the country, or vice versa — the leader extracts and concentrates the spirit of the country during a certain period of time.

Some people believe that Napoleon created contemporary France (nearly from nothing, from chaos and disarray), while others maintain that after drowning its feudal ballast in blood, France brought to the surface precisely this kind of energetic and creative leader. The particular point of view depends on the historic-philosophic school the beholder belongs to. Which is the egg and which is the chicken here — the crazy Lenin or the crazy Russia of 1917? Who begot whom — the carefree and complacent pre-crisis America brought the foolish and clumsy George W. Bush into existence or the other way round? Did one grey colonel clip Russia’s wings, or did Russia first evolve from Boris Yeltsin’s version to Vladimir Putin’s, and then Mr Putin replaced Mr Yeltsin? As soon as you venture to ask yourself one question of this kind, all academic concepts of the historical process begin to fall apart.

I am afraid that this is not an exaggeration: on Sunday this country is not simply choosing its future — it is also going to determine what it is inside, in its essence. The next leader personally is no more than an external image of this intrinsic essence. In addition to the understandable and simple demands set to both the country and its leader (welfare, security, development, etc.), I have one more essential condition: if I cannot be proud, I want to be spared the feeling of shame. I don’t want to be ashamed of our country and the symbolic figure representing it.

There are some things that are flat-out unacceptable. Spots in biographies are least interesting to me personally. We have such chequered past that nearly every politician has his/her own skeleton in the closet, while some have a couple, at least in a figurative sense (in the form of offshore bank accounts). So let us leave the sins of long bygone years in the past.

Yes, I agree with the advocates of “Professor” Yanukovych: a state manager does not have to be capable of reading Proust in the original. This person receives salary not for the knowledge of Chekhov and Akhmatova (but also Aeschylus). However, no matter what you say, a certain worldview minimum is needed to make more or less adequate managerial decisions. Maintaining a minimum of competence and decency can and should be demanded. In Mr Yanukovych’s circles, there are a number people who could warn their “Leader” (as he is being called in hushed tones and with emotion) against the most disgraceful gaffes. If they are not doing this, this can mean either elementary sabotage or conscious cynicism — our people would buy this anyway. Or is it simply fear?

Followers make leaders. The Party of Regions followers have unwittingly, contrary to their desires, turned their leader into someone who is not even an overlord but a fat cat, a concentrated image of all things plebeian, which — and there is no hiding this — are inherent, together with lofty things, in my people. However, this is the fault of not only of a group of supporters with a simple and visible system of interdependencies and interests, but also of a huge part of society that is willing to forgive its potential prince glaring gaps in upbringing and education.

I will soon learn whether I belong to the majority or to the minority. If the country prefers its plebeian image, this will only mean to me that my colleagues and I have not done enough for its benefit.