We met with the coryphaeus of the Soviet and Russian stage, Ilya Reznik, in the courtyard of one of the Yalta churches after the Sunday church service. Ilya Rakhmielievich ate melon, drank coffee, hugged his beloved wife Irina, listened to songs with a guitar, read his new poems and seemed to be an absolutely free and happy person. And on his chest under a light summer shirt he could see an Orthodox cross. About poverty and hungry childhood, about faith and inspiration, about books and money - in an exclusive interview with Crimean Journal.

Childhood

I am a blockade child. Until now, it is unthinkable for me to leave the crumbs on the table, throw away the crust, because I ate duranda, cake, quinoa, nettle soup. They rescued me, took me along Ladoga. I remember the ladder along which they climbed onto the boat. I have a cycle of blockade poems, and the poems about this salvation are called “Exodus”: “And we walked in twos, stepping carefully” ... God saved us. We ended up on the mainland, in Sverdlovsk with my mother we lived at a mill, she worked there. There were three of us in the room - me, my mother and aunt Frosya. They slept on the same bed, I was between them. Frosya was so big ... I remember kindergarten, how I danced a sailor dance, how I was in love with one girl and a teacher at the same time. Then dad was brought to us in Sverdlovsk in 1944. He had two wounds in the lung, and transient consumption developed. He passed away on April 15th. And we returned to St. Petersburg in the autumn of the same year.

Adolescence, youth

How do I know how my poems are born! At school, I composed two lines - "Uncle Fedya ate a bear." Everything! In Russian, I had a B. True, in the 9th grade I wrote several poems - about some kind of mare:

... Waving her tail,

Driven away gadflies and horseflies -

impudent.

Listen you animal

animal,

Animal, listen

You want to eat

And I want to eat.

Wait a little, wait a little

wait a minute,

The road ends already

end of the path.

I was very hungry then, we lived in poverty. The dreams were different: in the fourth grade - the Nakhimov School, in the seventh - artillery, then he sang in the choir, he entered the First Medical Institute - they were not accepted there, he entered the theater for four years in a row. Entered.

Bard

From an artist to poets, I flowed through the theater. In the second year, Sasha Gorodnitsky came to work in our theater, I had just learned to play the guitar then - it was necessary for the performance. (And now I can sometimes play something, I sing two or three romances at concerts, I accompany myself.) I went to concerts with Gorodnitsky and sang his songs - “Atlantes”, “Leather Jackets”, “Snow, Snow”, through he got into the Leningrad club "Vostok", where the famous Vizbor, Kukin, Klyachkin came - all the bards of that era. And he himself began to compose with a guitar - “The Ballad of a French Duel”, “Cockroach” ... So I became, it turns out, a popular bard in St. Petersburg, I was invited to various evenings, I had 20 or 30 songs. Then I forgot all about it. And when I began to engage in pop music, when the famous songs “Cinderella”, “Fat Carlson” appeared, from Lenconcert I was sent with Lyuda Senchina to this very “Vostok”, to the food industry club. There I began to perform pop songs, and there was complete silence in the hall. A note arrives: “Ilyusha, we loved you so much when you were a bard, what are you doing?” Then I felt ashamed, I remembered one parody of the then popular Rozhdestvensky and read it, this parody saved me from failure.

Petersburg and Moscow

At one time I left St. Petersburg for Moscow - and I did the right thing. When I had my first creative evening in 1973 with Irina Ponarovskaya, Sergei Zakharov, Edita Piekha - amazing performers! - so they didn’t even put my name on the poster, but simply wrote: “Variety concert”. And Moscow opened all the doors for me. Even now I went to the Komissarzhevskaya Theater in St. Petersburg, to which I devoted many years, and offered to hold a creative evening completely free of charge. They didn't want to.

Method

I do not sit down to write poetry, but I lie down. Old-fashioned way, on folded A4 sheets. Today I wrote, for example, two psalms - 123 and 112, translated them from Church Slavonic into Russian. At night, everything comes to me, right in blocks. The clarity of thought in the dark is amazing. When I turn on the light it goes out. The main thing is to remember these blocks, and then turn on the floor lamp and write it down. In the morning I rewrite and correct, but the main exhaust occurs at night - and very quickly. I don't understand people who write one poem for two or three months.

Songs and words

Many of my wonderful poems have been ruined by mediocre music or performance. Everything is important in a song - the lyrics, the music, the performance, the arrangement, the atmosphere in the country, and the breath of the audience: all these components must match to make a hit.

I am not interested in songs today, everything has already been written - it remains and sounds, this is an archive. And what's new? They write now “came yesterday” ... or about a glass of vodka. In 1992 I had a song about a glass of vodka.

A glass of vodka, a glass of vodka

Kindle a fire in the blood.

Our lifetime is short

Even less love.

So what is being written now has already been written.

I turned on a selection of songs from 1976 on the Nostalgia channel. 22 songs. All are masterpieces! And now, while new songs are paid, they sound from everywhere, and then ... I don’t take them seriously, I listen to jazz and classical music, there is no talk of radio: if I turn it on, the editor immediately starts talking in me - there is no rhyme, here the word is clumsy , there is not that accent ...

I am distracted by reading. I love foreign detective stories. Here I read the detective "Moth" - "Papillon". What a rich, brilliant book! And after that, "Moth" tried to read new foreign novels, but such translations are terrible - the wrong word, the wrong style. I am for the purity of the language, I have a “Hymn to the Russian language”, it is performed on the Day of Slavic Literature in squares throughout the country.

Audience and author

People always recognize me on the street. It doesn't bother me, I enjoy it. You don't have to pretend to be ugly. More than anything in the world I do not like envious, evil-holding and unsmiling people.

Books and money

My dreams are connected only with creativity. I love the smell of newly published books! I always see a new book ahead. Recently I published a nursery - “Tyapa does not want to be a clown”, and now “My Leningrad childhood” is being printed. Few people know that I write for children, because I don’t do public relations and I often don’t sell my books. There is such a tradition: if I get money for the author's concert, then part of it immediately goes to the circulation of my book, we distribute it to the audience for free when leaving the hall - such a kind of continuation of the concert. Therefore, in Moscow we live in a rented house, we have not saved up for our housing. And under the Soviet regime, songwriters were rich people - Rozhdestvensky, Derbenev, Tanich ... We all received 5-8 thousand rubles a month.

Children

Children's theme is now the main one. My ensemble "Little Country" came to the famous "Artek", they gave us 33 free tickets, and we have almost 90 children. It is wonderful. And why didn’t everyone get vouchers - their parents didn’t let someone go, and, again, children study with us from 2-3 years old, and they accept them at Artek from 8. But little artists go not only to relax - we will give concerts in Crimea .

Prayers and psalms

My second main occupation now is prayers and psalms, their verse transcription from Church Slavonic into Russian. Patriarch Kirill is very supportive of me and says that there is all hope for these translations, because young people do not understand the Church Slavonic language. The best day of my life is every morning when I write a prayer.

About faith

Last year he was baptized in Yalta, in Nizhnyaya Oreanda, in the Church of the Intercession of the Most Holy Theotokos. I decided to take this step, because in fact I am a Russian person: I love the Russian language, not Hebrew, not the synagogue - I like temples. In the summer, my wife and I live in Oreanda. Last year, in the local church, I read all the new prayers. I feel very good here - such a sincere atmosphere. I love the flock, all these gatherings, Sunday meals after the liturgy. I am ready to see the rector of the church in Oreanda Father Nestor every day and talk with him - he is almost a saint!

From Bagnoli, a suburb of Naples, to the sharp spit of Pozzuoli that cuts into the sea, the entire coast is densely strewn with bathing cabins. In the evenings, when the heat subsides, the carriages of the three subway lines leading here, trams and electric trains throw out a noisy crowd of cheerful bathers. A cabin costs two hundred lire. We, the Banolans of the Dips, cannot afford such an expense. Yes, and why is he, when it is possible, having chosen a span between cabin settlements, to calmly climb over the fence of the embankment, choose a suitable flat stone under it and, sitting at ease on it, enjoy all the joys of the sea absolutely free of charge. Even more interesting: here are jellyfish, here are crabs, here are real Neapolitan lazzaroni, which American tourists pay money for posing in front of cameras.

And after bathing and standing in the pose of Pushkin (according to Aivazovsky), admiring Capri blue in the distance, you can also look into the coastal cafeteria. Half a liter of chianti - sixty lire, and sit with him all evening, listen to the sea, the cries of donkeys, the songs of wandering singers - that Italy, which you will not see either in Rome, or in Florence, or in Milan. The Neapolitan south loves its past and does not want to part with it.

It's Sunday, and I'm having a hard time finding a seat in the float cafe packed with bathers. The bathing suit has all the rights of citizenship here; drink a cup of thick coffee or a sip of cognac, and then again into the blue warmth of the waves!

There are also more musical guest performers than on weekdays, and their repertoire is more diverse. Now a swirling guy with harmony, having paid tribute to tradition as viscous as Santa Lucia syrup, paid modernity with an obsessive fashionable foxtrot, and then started playing Katyusha. This is in the order of things: after the war, Katyusha successfully competes with the outdated Lucia, and Stenka Razin even supplants Stella del Mare.

There is something not Italian in the whirlwinds of the guy, and as if familiar. Where did I see them? Can you remember it now, can you find this frame in the kaleidoscopic film that passed before your eyes? But familiar... familiar...

The guy throws a three-row behind his back and now there is a small accordion to his right hand, and with his left he brings to his lips some kind of shell that looks like a black shell. The harmonica soars up, rapidly falls and begins to clearly pronounce:

How along Varvarinskaya street The Komarinsky man walked and ran ...

And the shell whistles to her like the Nightingale the Robber:

Oh, boyar you Markovna, Do you have a velvet coat ...

A bronze young bather in shorts is trying to invest in a dashing rhythm with a foxtrot pump, but it doesn’t work out and he starts tap dancing with his bare heels. My neighbors tap with beer mugs. The song of the Russian boundless plain winds like a bright, motley ribbon over the blue wavy bay.

The guy cuts off the dashing whistle and proudly says:

Jo sono homo rueso! I am Russian!

A frame lost in a kaleidoscope emerges from the motley mess of memory and stands before my eyes.

Alyosha, - I shout, - Alyosha Pshik! Russian man!

The decorative part of the emerging frame is very far from the environment around us.

... A boxcar full of refugees. In the middle of it is a burning stove; around her is a dense ring of human mess, knocked down in felt, and above it, standing on a pile of bags, this very Alyosha plays the same daring song on this very harmonica and shouts:

Have fun! Come on life! We are Russian people!

Alyosha Frolov is my countryman in Stavropol. His mother-in-law has a house there on Podgornaya Street. But they knew and called Alyosha there not Frolov, but Pshik. That was his pseudonym, a pop musical illusionist who played harmonies, brooms, Rykovskaya bottles, car sirens and some completely incomprehensible instruments.

Suddenly, three events occur at once: the car shakes on the switch, the door opens by itself, the song breaks off and Alyosha yells from his stage:

Damn goofy! Found time to play songs!

I am a Russian person, mother, and I cannot live without a song ...

I almost killed myself to death through your, idol, songs ... Why are you fussing? And I'll get into the car myself!

Arriving in Kyiv, Alyosha and I lost each other only to meet again here, on the coast of the Gulf of Naples. In a bizarre pattern, the paths of the Russian people are intertwined these days.

What the hell brought you here, Alyosha? I shake him by the shoulder. - Sit down, drink and tell why you are here?

I am here because I am a Russian, - Alyosha answers weightily and with conviction.

But such a logical construction is incomprehensible to me, and I demand clarification.

It's very simple, - Alyosha answers, in Kyiv, at the refugee point, I register, I write my stage name, of course, well-known ... The major reads and begins to mumble something in German. I, as you know, except for “gut” - no gu-gut ... However, I see that things are turning on my wheel: Major will say “Pshik”, poke his finger in my stomach and smile. I plan: he probably knows me from the stage, and in response to him: “gut”. He told me too: “gut”? And I told him: “gut”. He gave me some paper to sign, coupons for the canteen for the whole family, and the corporal took me to the room. A very good room, and firewood ... A week has not passed - the watchman comes with an interpreter. “Get ready,” he says, “to Germany with the whole family.” “What the hell is she to me, Germany,” I answer, “I am a Russian man!” "Not. You are a German, Volksdeutsch, according to your own statement ... "Grandma immediately freaked out:" Here, - she screams, - what your music has brought us to! They turned against the Germans and drove them to Germany, but, thank God, I still have a house that has not been taken away for three rooms and a barn ... "

However, there is nothing to do, the Germans have everything in order, that same evening we left for Munich.

Did you get to work there in the "Ostovtsy"?

No, I'm sorry, the Germans do not have such an order to put an artist to the machine! In Germany, we had a world life! In Munich they gave me back a room, a full allowance, a salary of 300 marks and daily performances in soldiers' clubs. Success is global!..

Did you learn German there?

What the hell is this? I am a Russian man and I taught all the Germans there Russian songs. Where are their Beethovens with their "Lily Marlene" before us! As soon as I go out onto the stage, the whole audience yells: “Troika! Troika!" It was I who taught them “Guide to the troika” and “The troika rushes” - I perform them with deaf bells, and the whole soldier sings along. That's how!

So, how did you get to Italy?

The reverse is very easy. They appointed me on a tour to the Italian front. In Venice, capitulation hit. Our Russian Armenians say: “We will hide in our monastery - there is one here - and you will have an amba ...“ The Armenian battalion was standing there ... They say: “Stomp in. Bologna, there are Poles. They have…”

Did you find the Poles? Have you been accepted?

Well, how about? I come to the colonel and say: “so and so, I am a Russian man, and there is nowhere to go except to you. Coffin." The Pole was caught conscious, sympathetic, assessed the situation. “Okay,” he says, “stay. Only you need to be written down as a Pole, by the name of Pshek, there is only one letter of difference, but in Polish it turns out more smoothly ... "" I, - I say, - do not feel sorry for this letter, pan colonel, to hell with it, only I am a Russian person ... "" And I myself, - he says, - is essentially a Russian officer, and at the same time - a Pole. There's nothing to be done! .. “Well, I changed “and” to “e” and became, as it were, a Wreed-Pole ...

What was your life like?

Famous worldwide! Played in the evenings in the officer's cantina. True, they did not give salaries, but English rations for the whole family. My wife and mother-in-law did laundry for the soldiers ... until the Poles went to England.

Where are you?

The colonel told me that it was impossible to drag me into England - the control is very strict, and he sent me to the Ukrainians, to Milano ... I was delighted, but it turned out quite the opposite.

How is it the other way around?

Very simple. I’m with them with all my heart, my own… “I, I say, a Russian person,” and they “don’t understand the Moskal language”… Of course, I’m a Stavropol resident, I myself speak Ukrainian no worse than them, but then I got hooked… all sorts of things, I think, when I sang verses to you in Kyiv, did you understand that? He took out his "baby" and tightened it under it:

Ukraine has not died yet, Might die soon Bo are so hungry Drive to death

Well? I ask.

Barely took his legs, here you have "well." The Italian carabinieri defended, but they escorted them to the Rimini camp by wire.

Was it before the issue to the Soviets or after?

Exactly in a week. There is complete panic ... All Russians, some into Czechs, some into Serbs, some into Magyars, turn around ...

Who did you have to become?

To no one. I'm tired of this. The commandant says to me: “return to your homeland,” and I told him: “I’m sorry, I’m a Russian person, go there yourself, and I’ll wait ...” I cut the wire at night and ... to the ace ten - yours are gone! Arivederci, ok, grace!

What about your wife and grandmother?

And they crawled out. I swung the hole in a Stakhanovite way. Record. And pulled out the toolbox. I had some money, I moved here, to Naples, I procured a white sogiorno ... Well, I live!

And what about the ocean? You can't escape the IRO.

Let her swim across the ocean herself. I am a Russian man, it's closer to my house from here. I live and live. The syndicate won't let you on the stage? I don't mind. Not enough, perhaps, osteria? The port sailor how she meets me is a world success! Why are we pulling this sour meat for the sake of meeting? - Camariero! Una butilla Asti da mille lire! Effervescent ... We are Russian people!

The bottle on ice causes a sensation among Italians.

Russi ... Russi ... - sweeps through the cafe.

Alyosha famously whips up his whirlwinds. We are clinking.

To hell with this ocean with its America? But here I am a Russian person, at least put me on a poster ... Only one thing is bad, - Alyosha knocks whirlwinds on his forehead.

The Italians do not have the letter "she" at all.

What do you care about her?

With my surname it turns out uncivilized. "Psi. the sailor is calling me ... It turns out that it’s not a psycho, not that dog ... Not scenic for my fame ...

Such a passage was born during a discussion on one of the blogs, when discussing the issue: who is Russian? "Dad is Turkish, mum is Greek, and I am." If a person feels culturally and morally and psychologically Russian, then he is Russian - you can’t imagine anything more threatening for the ethnic identity of the Russian people ...

It suddenly became clear that it was absolutely impossible to unequivocally answer this question. Everything is so confusing in the mindsthat someone needs to urgently begin to deal with this difficult issue. After all, further ignoring this topic at the level of society and the state will lead to the fact that Russians may finally lose their national and ethnic identity- they are banal when meeting on external, behavioral and other signs.

Russians may finally lose their national and ethnic identity.

The main problem with this issue is that the modern concept of "Russian" is invested with the meaning of the word "Soviet", as a collective concept of all peoples living within the borders of Russia and focuses on the fact of the joint formation of individual stages of history. To this is added confusion with the official concept of "Russian people - cement". In such a conceptual mess, it is not possible to unambiguously answer the question: who are the Russians and what features do they have.

Where to begin

I would suggest starting from pre-imperial times. That is, from the time when Peter I had not yet brought many foreigners to Russia (to Russia) and did not allow them to hold public office in which the fate of the empire and its people were decided. Namely, which should serve as a starting point for starting the formation of the image of a Russian person. The main territorial conquests and assimilation achievements were made during that period. Russian people from the Russian Kingdom formed the core, the base of the Russian people, which was then joined by all the others.

Russian people from the Russian Kingdom formed the core, the base of the Russian people.

The value of the pre-imperial period in the history of Russia also lies in the fact that it is imperative to remember that Russians are Slavs. That is, Russians are an accumulative concept based on Slavic ethnic groups. Without a Slavic approach to the topic of Russian identity, it will not be possible to preserve all the wonderful qualities of the people in history. Without a Slavic basis, Russians will become a "dump of nationalities".

It should also not be forgotten that Peter l built the Russian Empire on the basis of Russian living material from the central regions of Russia. And this one " Russian live material"was formed around the Slavic core, to which Tatar, Fino-Ugric and Siberian blood flowed.

Why do many want to be Russian

Because it's good to be Russian. Russians are a VERY promoted brand, participation in everything Russian gives a person a great charge of self-respect and positions him in the outside world as a representative of the largest country, with a rich history of victories, achievements, conquests and discoveries. With a thousand-year history of creativity. With Russian ballet, Russian bayonets and the proud phrase "Russians don't give up!"

Being Russian is beneficial. Russians are a VERY promoted brand...

Of course, one should not forget that the Soviet past remained in the memory of people, and then having a Russian was considered very profitable and it was received by hook or by crook.

State position

State deep don't give a damn about the topic of Russian self-identification. If now all Russians are simultaneously removed from the territory of Russia and "smart blacks and Asians" are brought in, then the state machine has worked and will continue to work. It's just that there will be black workers at drilling rigs and factories.

What difference does it make to a manager whose goal is profit, who is standing at the machine? What the hell is the difference whose finger will press the rocket launch button - Slavic or Mongolian?

The state is even comfortable as much as possible, because it is those Russians whose roots go deep into history that can say: this is my oil, this is my gas, this is my territory. And they will say this on the simple basis that the land of Russia is abundantly watered with the sweat and blood of their ancestors, who descend from pre-imperial Russians and those who dug ditches with their hands to drain the swamps around the future St. Petersburg and whose bones lie at its foundation. This the city was built on the bones of Russian peasants from central Russia, but the Turks, Greeks, Jews, Armenians and Georgians there are hundredths of a percent.

St. Petersburg is built on the bones of Russian peasants from central Russia.

The state machine is quite satisfied that anyone can be Russian, as long as he is a little bit Russian-speaking and a little Russian-cultural. For this opens up the broadest possibilities for importing "new Russians" and their rapid technological Russification - problems with fertility and demography will disappear by themselves.

Makarevich effect

Or in another way - betrayal of famous people. Those people whose name is heard and whose opinion is listened to by the broad masses. The word "betrayal" may seem too strong to some, but the essence of the phenomenon is precisely this: people, instead of supporting the theme of a historical approach to understanding Russianness, form a conceptual background based on populist stuffing. Thus, they further blur the topic and further complicate the possibility of answering the question: who are the Russians?

Most of our compatriots are gullible people who perceive a solidly spoken word from a famous person as the truth in the first instance. And this is dangerous!

The "elite of society" has a minimum percentage of Russianness in its I.

If you ask why the "elite" of society does this, then the answer will be found quickly enough - this is the same elite . Speaking quite rudely and bluntly - these people are mestizos, half-breeds who do not feel a personal and spiritual connection with the history of Russia = father is a Turk, mother is a Greek, and I am a Russian person. Such people have a connection with Russian history - learned from books, and not absorbed with mother's milk and father's moralizing. Many of these people in the distant past changed their true names and surnames to Russians.

Turkish dad, Greek mom and Baba Yaga vs.

It is guaranteed that there will be people who will make every effort to troll the topic, that is, to interfere or direct the essence of the process in a beneficial direction for them.

It is also guaranteed that there will be people who will suddenly fall into a stupor by asking themselves the question: but if I don’t fall under the concept of Russian? It will be a collapse of personal orientations. And it is this point of Russian identification that will be the most difficult. I can't answer it yet, but I'll definitely come up with a solution.

For Russians, nationality is passed down through the male line.

The misfortune of many people grows precisely because of the Soviet approach to the formation of a single multinational people in the USSR: the mixing of the blood of father and mother automatically allowed one to classify oneself as Russian. Although Russian nationality is transmitted through the male line.

Almost Conclusion

The eternal Russian question: who is to blame and? In order to answer it, one must first understand the intricacies of the concepts of ethnos, ethnic community, nation, nationality, and, finally, people. And to answer unequivocally who the Russians are from the point of view of these anthropological concepts.

Likewise, it is necessary to agree that there is no such thing as "nationality". It is necessary to speak specifically about the ethnos (origin), the people (the totality of ethnic groups) and the nation (belonging to the national state). If we use these three categories correctly, we can avoid conflicts during discussions about who the Russians are.

You need to talk specifically about ... the people (the totality of ethnic groups) ...

How do you like this incident: it is quite possible to say a Russian of Georgian origin, a Russian Armenian, a Russian with Chechen blood, but one cannot say a Russian of Russian origin, a Russian Russian, a Russian with Russian blood. Why you ask, but everything is simple: someone once took away the ethnic group from the Russian-Slavs, well, or this ethnic group "accidentally" got lost ...

What if you do nothing?

Then, in 20-30 years, the films "Sadko" and "Morozko" will be re-shot, where, respectively, Sadko will be dark-skinned Afro-Russian, and Alyonushka will be Tajik with Turkish coarse hair. As has already been done with "Quiet Don", where the Cossack Grigory was played by a homosexual metrosexual.

maximus101 in Dad is a Turk, mom is a Greek, and I'm a Russian person

I. Danilevsky about the origin of the Russian princes of the early period of the history of Russia.

Indeed, the origin of Malusha, the mother of Vladimir Svyatoslavich, is very interesting. To which ethnic group Malusha belonged is unknown, but it is very likely that her ancestors were associated with the Khazar aristocracy and by religion she was a Jew.
Since the names of Malusha (Malka), her father Malk Lubechanin and even the Drevlyan prince Mala are consonant with the title of the ruler of the Slavs - svet-malik (according to Ibn Rust), which in turn can go back to the Khazar title melekh (prince, king). Apparently, she had a noble origin, she was the sister of Dobrynya, the co-ruler of her son, Kagan Vladimir Svyatoslavich.

According to the tradition of the Rus and the Khazars, Dobrynya was supposed to be a bek (shad and / or possibly also a melekh), a prince with military functions, while the kagan Vladimir himself, among other things, performed the ritual function of a "living god" - the sacred kagan of the Rus and Khazars, about this is indirectly evidenced by the fixation of the chroniclers' attention on his numerous harem.

An excerpt from the program "Hour of Truth" - "Peoples of Ancient Russia"

PS. From myself (IP) I will add that this post does a good job of showing why the name of ethnicity - "Russian" - is an adjective and not a noun.
Unlike "Germans", "Poles", "Turks", etc. we are Russians. The closest analogy that Europeans had in their time is the British Empire. All subjects of the British Queen were British, regardless of nationality, etc. But where is the British empire now, on which the sun never set? What the European Union is now experiencing is the problem of personal identity in a superethnos. Initially created as national states, European states united into a multinational superstate. And now they themselves can not understand who they have become after that. From this, all their games with "tolerance", etc. All this is nothing more than a search for a form of interaction between parts that differ from each other in a single whole.
We in Russia experienced this and got used to it a long time ago.
Therefore, for us, everything that happens in Europe regarding the national question seems to be something like a matinee in a kindergarten in the absence of a teacher.
The most paradoxical thing about this is that instead of asking "adults" how it is really needed, "children" are constantly trying to teach us how to solve national problems. A common thing is that children who do not obey their parents - parents always seem to teenagers "outdated", "outdated", "backward" from progress.
What to take from them, they are children ...

"In conclusion, the official told a historical anecdote that happened to a guest from France, the Marquis Astolf de Custine who visited Russia to study the country and ended up at the emperor's ball.

An inquisitive visitor asked the autocrat about the visitors to the ball, who came in a variety of bright costumes, and each time it turned out that they were representatives of non-Russian peoples, including, in particular, the Finns.

"Where are the Russians?"- finally asked the perplexed guest.
“And all together these are my Russians”- answered the emperor "

“When I was nineteen, the Motherland shod me in kirzachi, put a machine gun in my hands, put me on armor and said: “go.” And I went. “Restoration of the constitutional order” - that was the name of this war then.
When I was twenty-two, I came to the draft board and already, voluntarily, signed up for the army and went to war for the second time.

My grandfather, Lavrentiy Petrovich Babchenko, is a 100% Zaporozhye Cossack...
His wife, Elena Mikhailovna Kuptsova (from her first husband, I don’t know her real last name, because her grandmother carefully concealed her - she is Jewish, yes) ...
My great-grandmother, by the name of Bakhtiyarova (partially Tatar, yeah) ...
My wife's grandfather, Pyotr Gorkanov, a purebred Mordvinian * ...
My father-in-law, ensign, purebred Mordvin * ...

All this time, I, my family, my ancestors and my relatives, were quite Russian for my country.
When it was necessary to burn at Khalkhin Gol, to pull space for a beggarly salary, to starve in basements, to make iodoform for the front, to be homeless with children in the barracks, to die in Tajikistan, to feed lice in Chechnya, to adopt abandoned children - we were Russians.

Now I have become a Jew for the Motherland, a Khokhl, a Banderite, a fifth column and a national traitor.
On the "Jewish Bandera fascist" Maidan, no one has ever, anywhere, under any circumstances, asked me about my nationality.

I repeat what I wrote before:
All Russians, especially passionate Russians, are "Russians in the first generation" of different ethnicity.
Maximum - in the second or third generations.

If you dig further, then everyone who knows at least something real about their ancestry will find out that in his family, several generations ago, the Russian language was not native.
Starting with the "Chukhna and Mordovians" of Putins, Gundyaevs, Chapaevs, Matvienko (Tyutina) and others are innumerable, ending with the Armenians Lavrovs, Kurginyans, Jews Zadornovs, Leontievs, Solovyovs, Frolovs, Strelkovs-Girkins, Chechens Surkovs, Bulgars Matrosovs, Khokhls Denikins-Deineks, Budennys, Navalnys, Dugins, Lanovs, Senchins - and further throughout list of nationalities of the entire former USSR.

There is no need to be surprised here, because the Russians are such a community from the very beginning. Special. On other principles, not on national ones, collected to this day.
That is why "Russia cannot be understood with the mind" by those who stubbornly try to understand Russians as a people / nation, believing in the delusion spread by the Russians themselves that "Russians" are the same ethnic people as all other peoples.
That is why the word nationalism is so feared in this community, as in the house of a hanged man the word rope.
Because they themselves do not constitute a non-ethnic, non-civil / political nation, but a people in the sense of a community of Janissaries of the empire, collected anew with each new generation from all ethnic groups inhabiting this empire. In the very Horde sense.
Among them, of course, there are hereditary Janissaries, Janissaries in the second or fourth generation, but they are not the majority among Russians today. Too quickly over the past century, the circle of Russified has expanded (the number of registered Russians has increased) and therefore it is not they, but the neophytes that make up its backbone.

Do you know how the Janissaries were made in the Ottoman Empire?
From all over the Empire, children were forcibly taken from parents of different tribes, converted to Islam and brought up, brought up, brought up.

And they were the best warriors of the Empire against all those who did not renounce their father and mother, like them, and this was the strength of the Ottomans.
Because they were not an ethnic people, but the Turkic-speaking team of slaves of the Empire and the "homeland" for the Janissaries was the state.

Do you know how Russians were made in the Russian Empire?
From all over the Empire, parents of different tribes themselves sent their children to Russian schools, baptized them into Moscow "Orthodoxy" and brought them up, brought them up, brought them up.
In the spirit of fidelity to the Imperial idea, and so that they "fuck" their small homeland.
And they are the best warriors of the Empire against all those who have not renounced their father and mother like them, this is the power of Russia.
Because they are not an ethnic people, but the Russian-speaking team of slaves of the Empire and the "homeland" for Russians is the state.

While each member of this Horde masquerading as the people blows into the general imperial tune supporting rashism, then for the rest it is Russian with a capital letter.
As soon as he cooled off, to the general idea, then he was already a "Russian".
But as soon as he said something across, the rest of the "already Russians" will immediately remember him.
And not only Jews, as many of those who put their lives on the creation of Russian culture (exactly the same, with innate imperialism and hidden anti-Semitism, as we know it today), like the Crimean Eskin, but also the "Khokhla" - like the "Sergeant Major" Babchenko.
By the way, they are both sincerely indignant, but what are we for?
Have we been faithful for so many years?

Here, the soul of another Russian, Dorenka, could not stand it:

Yes, I'm a crest, after all! How can it be?
I can also add that I was born in Kerch. ..
All my parents were born in Ukraine, all my grandparents were born in Ukraine.
And I am Ukrainian after all.

P.S.
But do not expect sentiments for Ukrainians from Dorenka.
It was not for this that he himself and his KGB parents, drop by drop (like a slave according to Chekhov), squeezed Ukrainianism out of themselves all their lives in order to finally become completely Russian.
The Russian professor Dugin, who called for the killing of Ukrainians, also said that he was a Ukrainian.

Their origin never prevented the Janissaries brutally, with fire and sword, destroying compatriots who did not want to become Janissaries, to bring the Empire on their bayonets to the lands of their ancestors.
Russian too. But the Ottomans at least thanked the Janissaries and not only with words and did not fool them that they are the ethnic people "Janissaries".
When was there at least some kind of power in the history of Russia from which the Russians would not suffer?
And never.
When, under Queen Victoria, England owned half of the world, being an Englishman in the English empire was both monetary and prestigious.
When under the Nazis the Germans had a Reich (thank God it didn't last long)- to be a German loyal to Hitler was also honorable, financially and comfortable not only for this German, but also for members of his family. He was calm that no "black funnel" would suddenly come for him.
And although throughout the history of Russia (Muscovy, Ros Empire, USSR, RF) Russians in this country have never been better than foreigners, but they still tear their asses for themselves and are proud of this state. Proud of the pride of a slave of the empire.
But it was not better for them, because the rulers did not create a community of service people of the empire for themselves, so that they could live for their own pleasure.
And the fact that today they have come up with the euphemism "Russian World" instead of the word "empire" compromised by history does not change the essence.
The conflict in Ukraine is not a conflict between two peoples, but an old conflict of the people defending themselves and their country, with a predatory denationalized imperialism, vilely mimicking a "fraternal people".

By the way, this is precisely the problem of many Ukrainians today. (and not only ethnic Ukrainians) living in Ukraine.
Throughout their conscious Soviet and post-Soviet life, they squeezed out who is Ukrainian, who is Bulgarian, who is Jewish, in order to become as Russian as Dorenko, and then suddenly, after the Maidan, it turned out that everything was down the drain.
That they are not the majority in Ukraine.

News from the fields:

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For those Russians who are still not aware of the nationality of their ancestors, I explain:
As there is no people in nature ukrobelov or belukrov, as there is none in nature ukrobelsky neither Belukr languages, but there are two separate peoples Ukrainians and Belarusians, and two similar but separate languages Ukrainian and Belarusian,
so there is no people in nature Mordovians, nor Mordovian language, although there is such a republic in the Russian Federation.
Chukhnoy and Mordovians contemptuously called them Moscow.
Trotsky and Lenin, at first they generally wanted to call it the "Chukhon Republic", but they realized that it would be too much in general, therefore they called it "Mordovian", so as not to bother and habitually.
There are 2 related Finno-Ugric peoples indigenous to these places: Erzya and Moksha.
And 2 languages ​​- similar, but different - Erzya and Moksha.
There was also a third people - the Merya, but they lost their language by the 1730s, and by our time they have all completely enrolled in Russian.

For example - actor Sedoykin, model Vodyadnova - Erzya (as well as Kirill / Gundyaev, whose surname did not come from the fact that his ancestor was a gunny, "gundyai-kundyay" in Erzya is a countryman, so his surname is translated into Russian as Zemlyakov). And yakstere army ushmodey CHEPAEV (the commander of the Red Army Chapaev, though the Chuvash say that his mother is part Chuvash), and Lidia Ruslanova (Leykin) and Nadezhda Kadysheva and Mazaev (from smear = beautiful) and many other Russians.
Moksha, for example, Vasily Shukshin.