The Russian man, looking at the West, sees in it, as a rule, a single beginning, a single feature that overshadows all the others. The modern Western world was once defined as ‘bourgeois’ or ‘capitalist’ (with hostility), now it is defined as ‘market’, ‘free’, ‘democratic’ or ‘liberal’ (with admiration), but all this is one-sided and too simple.

It is not without reason that the main feature of the Western order is called freedom. However, this is not the kind of freedom that is dreamt of in Russia. The main features of Western freedom are as follows: equality of opportunity within a clearly delineated circle of permissible. A powerful, almost omnipotent state stands behind this soft and cosy society. There is not much freedom in the Russian, i. e. anarchic, sense in this society: the state leads the citizen along the road of lawful and useful labour, profits and expenses, not allowing him to turn right or left. ‘Earn and spend’, the State tells the individual, ‘and your civic duty will be fulfilled’. The independence of the individual is confined within very narrow limits, the narrowness of which is not noticed only because all strong social movements have passed away, the personality itself has become much weaker than before, and does not ask inconvenient questions, does not seek more than it can get. A pacified society is an amazing sight: where a hundred years ago there were broad political movements, many dissatisfied people and sceptics, we see amazing cohesion, unity of opinion, approval of all things, and complete absence of political opposition. Political activity in the old sense of the word, as a competition of intentions and convictions, seems to have died out; it is now reduced to the rational management of a carefully calibrated state machine… But I was talking about freedom.

‘Freedom’ in its purest form is a convention, something that does not exist in the world. Only an animal can grow ‘in freedom’, and even then, its freedom is not as wide as it seems to us. Society in its prehuman primordial foundations means hierarchy, subordination, inequality. There are two kinds of inequality: by nature and by position. Both can be hidden, but they cannot be destroyed. Democracy opposes both. Natural inequality is suppressed by uniform upbringing, education (or rather, semi-education), domination of tastes and opinions of the majority in all spheres. Inequality of position they try to conceal by saying: ‘All men are equal, and if some acquire power over others, it is temporary and by agreement with fellow citizens’. This, of course, is a lie, because behind the visible ‘temporary’ privileges there are invisible stable bases of these privileges. A politician who leaves an elected office does not go to his field or workshop — he takes up a new position. Here is the difference between the newest ‘democracy’ and the ancient one. Either everyone rules, but in turn, or some people rule, but constantly: this is how the ancients understood the difference between democracy and other orders. That is why the ancient government of the people was so unstable: it did not want the state to have a strong and permanent support, be it royal power or aristocracy. Modernity has solved this issue differently: having preserved democratic formalities, it has created, so to speak, an ‘invisible elite’ — an elected layer that supplies the state with rulers. The power of this elite comes not from the sovereign, not from the antiquity of the family and noble traditions, not from personal merit. Its support and source of power are different: money.

The point, however, is not that Western society has an upper layer that supplies the rulers, it is the manner in which it is formed. Money and the advantages it brings are too shaky a basis for the creation of an aristocracy. Besides, any real ‘aristocracy’ is strong not because of its exclusive position, but because of its idea. The idea of all aristocracies, I think, is to serve the state, no matter how much individuals deviate from this idea. Even the Bolsheviks built their ‘order of sword-bearers’ (as Dzerzhinsky called the party) on the idea of service, although this soon-to-be elite proved to be quite unsuccessful. Nowadays, public activity is inseparable from a very different idea: the idea of personal well-being.

Liberal society has deprived the citizen of the possibility of access to the higher culture, the higher pleasures and tastes — one cannot deny that equalisation, ‘democratisation’, means the disappearance of extremes, of highs and lows, the alignment with the average. But the technical capabilities of this society made it possible not only to feed the hungry, but also to introduce into the life of the middle classes what had previously been considered a luxury. This was the basis of the newest alliance between the state and the citizens: the all-powerful state gave the masses prosperity — and the ‘struggle for freedom’, which was really nothing more than a struggle for equality, immediately ceased.

But there is another side. A society that prefers to call itself ‘democratic’ is not really democratic — because democracy of the old, antique type is impossible today. In fact, the appearance of ‘people’s power’ is created with the help of a class of hired political representatives supplied by the upper social stratum. I do not think that the West owes its prosperity to the activities of these individuals. The point is different. There has indeed been a political upheaval in the West in recent centuries, but its meaning was not the transfer of power to the ‘people’, but the creation of a perfect social mechanism, independent of the will of individual personalities and designed, it must be emphasised, for a rather low level of public morality. The difference between old and new social forms is precisely in the fact that one expects the rulers to be judicious and noble (and is often mistaken), while the other expects them to be mediocre and inept (and achieves the goal). In short, the difference between the old and new order is determined by the difference in views of human nature. A strange consequence of this ‘political sobriety’ has been a marked decline in morals, both among the governing and the governed. To expect no nobility is the same as to encourage baseness. This is what has happened to the ‘sober’ and ‘judicious’ political system of recent times.

Thus, the strength of the West is not ‘democracy’, which does not exist, but reasonably constructed institutions, the essence of which is to weaken to the utmost the influence of the individual on the course of public affairs. The existing order, based on the worst conceptions of human nature, puts obstacles in the way of all evil will — to such an extent that the state machine continues to work even when it is run by helpless and insignificant people. It is this machine that is the main achievement of modern Europe. When Russia is advised to establish ‘democracy’, it is given bad advice, advice from a false friend. Whether or not there will be democracy in Russia will not change anything, just as the fate of America or Europe will not suddenly change because the masses stop ‘casting their votes’. There are two orders: one depends on individuals, the other on institutions. The first, conventionally speaking, is monarchical; the second, also conventionally speaking, is constitutional. Both can be good, but the first is more demanding on the individual, bearing excellent fruit when well governed and disgraceful when bad or frivolous, while the second is always not bad, not brilliant, but does not fall below a certain level either. It is very imprudent to propose to the country some ‘democracy’ in general, because the electoral principle, public self-government (to which all effective and meaningful democracy is reduced) are appropriate both under one and another system. Even more, for a country that has neither a good monarch nor a good government (i. e. neither a suitable personality nor good impersonal institutions), ‘democracy’ will be reduced only to the notorious ‘universal suffrage’, which will cover the most common predation of all kinds of ‘strong men’, as we have already seen in the times of so-called democratic reforms.

Another common perception is that the source of the strength of Western countries is so-called ‘pluralism’, the tolerance of all opinions, no matter how unfounded or repulsive they may be. This tolerance is also offered as a model to countries outside the Western world. However, it is not commonly realised that the glorified ‘pluralism’ is only a convention not applicable to real life. Only in a society freed from external and internal struggles and threats can the idea of unlimited tolerance arise. The difficulties encountered by the modern West show that it is powerless against any appreciable external or internal threat and incapable of effective struggle. Even worse: for one who conscientiously and definitively accepts the principle of ‘tolerance’, no struggle at all is possible. What does ‘tolerance’ mean? That there is no truth, but only private opinions. Of course, there is no arguing about opinions, i. e. tastes. But insofar as the state that preaches tolerance decides on a struggle, even an armed struggle, it contradicts itself. One cannot raise arms if there is no truth, but only opinions. One cannot kill for the sake of opinions. If we recognise the possibility and necessity of killing, we also recognise that the struggle is for something higher than mere opinions and life itself: for the sake of truth. But the ‘pluralist’ does not believe in truth and therefore does not know what he is fighting for, and therefore fights badly.

When we speak of the West, we think first of prosperity, high technical development, free enterprise, equalitarian democracy, ‘tolerance’ and ‘rights’. Everyday thinking prefers to associate all these features of Western society, speaking, for example, of ‘democratic capitalism’. Often we hear, ‘The West is great and rich because it is committed to democracy and diversity of opinion’. I have already said that this connection is artificial; that wealth came before unlimited freedoms and universal suffrage; that freedoms and rights have only reduced the external distinction between the powerful and the subordinate, protecting the latter from too obvious offences.

I think this list of desirable goods should be divided into two parts, depending on whether we are talking about facts or perceptions. It would be wrong to deduce one from the other. Dividing this seemingly unified chain, we see two series of things: firstly, prosperity, high technical development, free enterprise; and secondly, equalitarian democracy, ‘tolerance’, ‘rights and freedoms’. The concepts of the first row speak of what the West is; the second row shows what the West represents itself to be. There is little in common between them. The first row tells us, ‘A powerful, centralised, rational, highly developed society based on the extensive use of technology, enjoying unrestricted freedom of invention and enterprise’. Perhaps I am indeed too short-sighted, but I see no shadow of ‘democracy’ and ‘pluralism’ here. The place of these concepts is in the second row, which I would read as follows: ‘A society of mitigated contradictions, in which overly obvious offences and abuses are put to a limit, and the individual is protected both from the influence of higher culture and from attempts on his independence — to a certain extent, insofar as this does not conflict with the public interest, and participates — more or less successfully — in local and national administration’.

It may seem strange that I have placed ‘democracy’ — a seemingly undeniable fact — in the realm of ‘perceptions’. The reasons for this are given above. The universal suffrage does not yet mean the participation of the people in the solving of public questions; these questions are solved by a class of hired political representatives, visibly linked to their electors, and invisibly to the interests of dark forces unknown to the public. Western democracy belongs entirely to the realm of representations, as does the socialist democracy that has passed away. Its strength is not in the actual participation of the people in political life (there is no such thing), but in the principle of equalisation, which requires equal treatment of the opinion of an outstanding mind or a dullard, i. e. in the notorious ‘tolerance’.

Whether such a society is good or bad is not for me to decide. Relying on centuries of accumulated national wealth, enjoying the fruits of unlimited enterprise, using technology that liberates human hands, this society is capable of giving peoples, if not happiness, then well-being — but depriving them of faith, culture, moral values and personal independence. In the past there remains a truly great Europe, which combined enterprise and mobility with the moral and cultural values of the past centuries, which used technology rather than serving technology, which grew stronger and stronger, but which did not yet worship power… The ‘pacified society’ of our days uses the capital accumulated by its ancestors: unfortunately, it will leave nothing for posterity.

After all, the main question of cultural and social life is how to educate a superior personality. Of course, kings and warlords answer it differently: for them, state power, expansion of borders, economic power mean much more. Unfortunately, equalitarian democracy has abandoned the very idea of a higher personality. It did not lead to anything good, which is easy to be convinced of: it is enough to look at the consistently democratic 20th century. They do not educate the higher personality in man because it is ‘undemocratic’ and ‘illiberal’, but they try to educate some moral reflexes, telling him about ‘tolerance’ and ‘diversity of opinions’. But it is impossible to develop the part by extinguishing the development of the whole. A highly developed personality is peaceful and — I do not want to repeat this shameful word — ‘tolerant’ by itself, it does not need constant training in virtue… Education and training are quite different things; and even if the miracles of training create a personality listless, good-natured and tolerant to everything — let us not expect from such a personality entrepreneurship, creativity, thirst for new things…

So, for all the admiration or, let’s say, amazement one can feel for European and American achievements, the Russian person should not wish for the same future, and for several reasons, practical and speculative. Firstly, the wealth and strength of the West is not, I will never tire of repeating it, rooted in ‘liberal values’. Even when the West was undemocratic and illiberal, it was still rich and powerful, and if it gets the fancy to renounce ‘freedoms’, it will retain its wealth. Secondly… Secondly, because ‘freedom’ and ‘tolerance’ are values of a totally negative character, values of an empty house, which cannot be inherited. ‘All opinions are equal’ means above all ‘nothing is true’, that is, a terrible emptiness unbearable to the mind. The same applies to the irrelevantly understood ‘freedom’. As for the well-being achieved on the path of social reconciliation, equalisation of opportunities, income (within certain limits), mental capacity (this is a must)… it is also not the last and final value, that is, a value that the soul can remember after the grave, and humanity — thinking about past civilisations. In our thinking of Hellas, Rome, and Judea, the thought of their ‘well-being’ simply has no place. When we speak of these bygone cultures, we think only of what they have given to humanity. Liberalism has given and will give nothing to it, it will pass away like a shadow and will be replaced by a society of intangible values, maybe (even undoubtedly) not so soft and cosy, but much more viable and fruitful.

Timofey Sherudilo.
From the book Knowledge and Creativity. Essays on Cullture.

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