This individual whose name I am reluctant to pronounce, who boasts of having learned to strike first in the Leningrad street of his childhood, has just added a new crime to those he has already committed. This time it is a crime of unprecedented proportions. About the use of nuclear weapons, he repeats with maniacal sincerity: “What do we need in a world where Russia no longer exists? », convinced that he himself is Russia personified. The sycophancy of his court, which he recently forced to condone his crime publicly, on television, as well as twenty years of unlimited power have finally paid off.
The heir to the KGB does not hesitate to say, with a nervous chuckle, that the Ukrainians are in fact Russians: thus the paterfamilias gives himself the exclusive right to punish his children who have made a mistake. His autocratic conscience prevents him from understanding that in these terrible days, it is precisely the kinship of the two countries that drives Russians to identify more and more with Ukrainians. The inhabitants of Kyiv/Kiev, of Odessa, of Kharkiv/Kharkov will never appear as foreigners, enemies in the eyes of the Muscovites, the people of Petersburg, of the inhabitants of Ekaterinburg. The Goebbelsian rhetoric that Russian television uses so generously is powerless here.
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In my novel “Schubert in Kiev”, we see the Kiev opera house under Nazi occupation. I am convinced that there will not be a second Nazi occupation, but no one can say today what will happen to Russia, to Ukraine, to the world. Still, the charm of the “Russian soul”, this credit granted to Russia – and guaranteed by Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Chekhov, mainly in countries that have no common border with it – is now exhausted.
The student of the KGB school whom the Russian opposition dubbed “Poutler” a long time ago, has turned the romantic talk of Russian nationalists about “the special path of Russia” into a bloody caricature. Alas, on this path Russia is doomed to wage an incessant war against itself, and it seems that victory is near.
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Text translated from Russian by Luba Jurgenson.
Ludmila Oulitskaïa against the war in Ukraine: “The fate of the country is directed by the madness of one man”
Leonid Girchovitch, organic express
Born in 1948 in Leningrad, Leonid Girchovitch is a Russian musician and writer. Violinist, he worked in the orchestras of in the symphony orchestras of Leningrad, Jerusalem, Hanover and Nuremberg. He published his first texts at the end of the 1970s. In France, “Apologie de lafuge”, “Schubert à Kiev” and “Meurtre sur la plage” appeared in particular, all published by Verdier and translated by Luba Jurgenson. He lives in Berlin.