Home Fruit trees Remembering childhood in the Soviet Union. Why was there a different childhood in the USSR. The myth of "excellent children's education and schools"

Fruit trees

Remembering childhood in the Soviet Union. Why was there a different childhood in the USSR. The myth of "excellent children's education and schools"

Under the roof of my house

Today, such a situation - they give you a free apartment from a factory or institution - is hard to imagine. But our grandparents were not surprised at all. Of course, there were housing cooperatives and the informal purchase of apartments, but this was the lot of the elite. For the most part, Soviet people received housing. Of course, square meters were not handed out just like that to everyone - a roof over their heads could be earned by long and conscientious work at their enterprise.

Here is what the sociologist Andrey Gromov writes in the book “We, our children and grandchildren”: “The apartments were not given just like that and not to everyone. The queue for an apartment could go on for years (in Moscow it was often more than 5 years) and strictly according to the standards of square meters. That is, they were put on the queue only if there was less than 5 square meters per person. m, and a new apartment was given at the rate of 10-12 sq. m per person. Not too spacious, not only by modern standards.

It turned out that people who worked for decades in the same place for the sake of an apartment could easily “not meet” the childbearing age. Representatives of the older generation recall that they were brought from the maternity hospital to a hostel, a communal apartment, a barracks, and only a long time later their parents received their housing. It was even more difficult for large families - apartments of more than 90 square meters. almost no meters were built here, and, despite all the benefits, at best, such a family received a large apartment in a new building, which was still cramped. But the lack of your own “corner” when deciding whether to give birth or not to give birth was not such a significant factor as it is today, because people knew that if you work honestly and hard, then sooner or later you will get an apartment in which you will live your child.

The payment for utilities in the USSR was indeed a penny, absolutely not burdensome for the average family. For example, in the early 80s of the last century, the monthly rent for a well-equipped "three rubles" in the capital was 10-12 rubles. generally. In particular: telephone communication - 2.5 rubles. per month, electricity - 4 kopecks. for 1 kW, a common house television antenna - 25 kopecks. etc. By the way, the prices for transport services (except for air tickets) were just as insignificant. Now, when the "communal" can easily "eat up" the lion's share of the family budget, these figures seem fantastic.

“Where did you get it? "But it's not there anymore..."

Such a dialogue in Soviet times could not surprise anyone, but today's children will not even understand what is at stake. Meanwhile, the questions “where to get it?”, “How to get it?” and “what was thrown out?” constantly revolved in the minds of the Soviet people. Especially for those who had children: after all, parents, willy-nilly, had to maintain their life at the level necessary for the comfort of the child.

Andrey Gromov says: “In conditions of scarcity, any desire for prosperity required not only money, but also time. That is, in fact, in order to maintain an acceptable level of well-being, a person spent not only working, but also most of his free time. The Soviet child faced a shortage literally from the cradle. For example, in the mid-60s of the XX century, beautiful and practical German strollers appeared on the streets.

They cost about 49 rubles. - the amount is very significant with an average salary in the country of 140 rubles, but it was impossible for ordinary citizens to “get” this stroller. I had to be content with heavy and uncomfortable Soviet models, which, by the way, could not always be bought. Here is a curious document of that time - an official letter sent by the prestigious magazine "Communist" to the Moscow "Children's World": "In connection with the birth of a child from an employee of the magazine, the local committee asks for permission to purchase a baby bed (or stroller) and a bath in your department store."

The same thing happened with children's clothes, and with shoes, and with other household items. There was an acute problem of quality. On average, summer children's shoes cost 3-6 rubles, winter boots - about 20 rubles, a children's winter coat for the smallest - 27 rubles. But those models that were available for free sale were very far from perfect. If the parents wanted to please the child with a beautiful and comfortable new thing, for example, high-quality children's shoes from fraternal Yugoslavia, they had to buy it “from under the counter” or turn to black marketers.

And the prices of speculators went off scale: for example, Milton's children's jeans (India) cost 40 rubles. However, compared to jeans for adults, this did not seem such an exorbitant price: branded jeans for mom or dad already cost from 90 to 200 rubles ., that is, they exceeded the average salary in the country.For comparison: the price of children's jeans on one popular Internet resource today is from 450 rubles, and decent children's shoes - from 1200 rubles, while about a salary of 140 rubles, Fortunately, no one has heard from us for a long time.

Due to the general shortage in the USSR, there was a real boom in handmade, although no one knew such a word then. Many mothers and grandmothers sewed, knitted, embroidered - if not for themselves, then for their children and grandchildren - for sure. By the way, “consumables” for needlework were quite affordable: a meter of printed chintz cost 90 kopecks in 1970, “woolen dress” fabric - 13.20 rubles, high-quality pure wool Boston - 30 rubles. Dads "with hands" sawed, planed, made, so that the situation in the whole apartment, and especially in the nursery, was not so spartan. By the way, a jigsaw with other necessary tools in the set could be absolutely safely purchased for 3 rubles. - without any queues and overpayments, and make children's furniture yourself, instead of standing in line for months and checking in at night near a furniture store. At the same time, a child from the most tender age could be attached to useful work.

"Doctor's is good, made according to GOST, you eat slowly for big growth"

The question of how to feed your family arose before the Soviet people in all its glory. In particularly crisis years, the shelves in stores were empty, only salt, gray pasta, sticky caramels without wrappers and canned “Gobies in Tomatoes” were on sale. In the provinces, such a picture could also be observed in relatively calm times. But still, the food minimum was available in most cases. For example, it was almost always possible to buy bread (black quarter - 5 kopecks, white loaf - 13 kopecks), flour (16 kopecks per kg), potatoes (from 8 to 15 kopecks per kg), carrots (12 kopecks per kg). per kg).

True, all the vegetables had to be carefully sorted out and washed. Also, there was no shortage of eggs for 90 kopecks. (larger ones - dietary ones - cost up to 1.30 rubles per dozen). A kilogram of sugar cost 1.04 rubles. Cheeses appeared and disappeared, but one of the cheapest - "Poshekhonsky" - cost 2.60 rubles, and it was not difficult to get it. Processed cheeses were a real hit, children were very fond of them, and for good reason: Druzhba cheese, for example, cost from 15 to 23 kopecks at different times, and it was made from high quality cheese, butter, milk, natural spices. It was also relatively easy to buy fish of non-elite varieties, but there was a real trouble with meat in the country of the Soviets.

Andrei Gromov writes: “Meat - from two rubles per kilogram (with bones). That is already quite a significant share of the budget. In terms of modern prices, the same purchasing power of a modern resident of Russia would be with a salary of 9 to 15 thousand rubles. And this despite the fact that it is very difficult to buy meat in a store, and good meat is simply impossible. There are good ones on the market - for 4-5 rubles and without a queue, but this is already an exorbitant waste for the majority. The food budget of a Soviet person did not provide for the possibility of overpaying twice for quality or convenience. For the sake of quality, one could stand in line for several hours, but almost no one could afford to pay twice. Simply because the salary would not be enough.

The same problem was with fruits. Parents could please their children only a few months a year: for example, cherries - 2 rubles. per kg, tangerines - from 1.50 rubles, and - only in season. Cherries - a maximum of a month and a half in the summer, and tangerines - less than a month before the New Year.

But the children's favorite treats were available and of very high quality. The most expensive ice cream - chocolate "Leningrad" - cost 22 kopecks. (frozen and whipped natural milk, cream, butter, sugar, and no preservatives), a glass of sparkling water with syrup from a vending machine - 3 kopecks, Pinocchio lemonade - 9 kopecks. per bottle, Kuntsevskaya bun - 2 kopecks, 5 kopecks. there was a fresh toasted bagel, 8 kopecks. - Tula gingerbread and shortbread "Milk", 55 kopecks. - a can of condensed milk, which, moreover, could be "cooked". Dairy products were also beyond praise: the famous triangular package of milk cost 16 kopecks. for half a litre. Much of the above is considered by modern parents as food standards, and for good reason: not only because, for example, the Alenka chocolate bar was very inexpensive (15 grams - 20 kopecks), but also because it was made from real cocoa beans .

This is not a myth. The quality of Soviet products was mostly good, and they were produced according to GOST. For example, thanks to the people's commissar of the food industry Anastas Mikoyan, back in the 30s, the production of Doctor's, Amateur, Tea, Veal, Krakow sausages, milk sausages and hunting sausages began. Both children and adults were very fond of the tender "Doctor's" sausage, which was developed to "amend people's health." The recipe has not changed for decades: 100 kg contained 25 kg of premium beef, 70 kg of bold pork, 3 kg of eggs and 2 kg of cow's milk. As seasonings - a minimum of salt, granulated sugar or glucose, nutmeg or cardamom. It was really not scary to feed your child with such sausage. However, to begin with, it still had to be bought.

About how much toys for children in the USSR cost, how much vouchers to pioneer camps cost, and most importantly, how much their education “poured out” to our parents, we will tell next time.

"Cheap" childhood in the USSR: part two

Here is what the sociologist Andrei Gromov writes in his book “We, Our Children and Grandchildren”: “One of the most important features of late Soviet life was full employment. And almost equal in relation to women and men. This was partly a consequence of the post-war shortage of men, but by the 70s it began to be determined by a purely economic factor. An ordinary, even a good salary, could provide an acceptable standard of living for only one person plus one child. If you do not take the military or other privileged professions, then a non-working adult family member immediately lowered her to the level of poverty. And there were practically no economic mechanisms allowing mothers not to work.”

These realities determined the leisure time of the average Soviet child. Of course, there was an extension, free or cheap clubs and sections, and many other social benefits. But few of the children managed to just take a walk with mom or dad on a normal weekday. Also, not all the lucky ones had non-working grandmothers who were ready to mess around with their grandchildren. Well, as for governesses and nannies, in the view of ordinary Soviet citizens, these are characters from a parallel reality. As a result, a phenomenon arose in one single country, which, probably, will not be repeated anywhere and never. On the one hand, even a first-grader can easily hang the keys to an apartment around his neck; explain how to warm up dinner yourself; give pocket money “for ice cream”, and on the other hand, the child absolutely does not feel abandoned and deprived at the same time, because he is always in society. And he, this society, begins right at the doorstep.

"Poplar, Moscow courtyards..."

Modern young mothers may not believe this: flocks of children of different ages rushed around the yard (in summer - until late in the evening) with little or no adult control. True, there were always two or three active elderly citizens (not necessarily someone's grandmothers) who looked after the children. And at the same time they taught the girls to plant flowers on the "common" territory and take care of the "common" flower beds. There was certainly a craftsman, "Uncle Kolya", who gathered boys around him, teaching them useful masculine skills: for example, how to fix a moped or a bicycle. But mostly the children entertained themselves, and did an excellent job with this task.

The costs of collective games were negligible: for example, a ball chamber cost 30 kopecks, a ping-pong ball - 5 kopecks, and an elastic band for sewing, as a rule, was obtained completely free of charge - from my mother's needlework box. But how much fun with the help of these almost free items could be invented!

All the guys played football, volleyball, dodgeball, stenochka, knives, table tennis (if there was no special table, then any flat surface was suitable). The girls, in addition, arranged entire tournaments in a rubber band or a skipping rope. Now you can buy a jump rope for 1500 rubles. (with ergonomic handles, in which bearings are built in to ensure ease of rotation), but compared to that penny, Soviet one, it is unlikely to interest your child for a long time.

Another huge gaming segment from the times of the USSR is war games. They played "red and white", "ours and fascists", "cowboys and Indians", "musketeers and guardsmen". What is characteristic - the high cost of toys did not affect the popularity of a particular player in any way: a child could have a fashionable "children's automatic pistol" for 2 rubles. 50 kopecks, or there could have been a plastic craft from the Soyuzpechat kiosk for 15 kopecks. But this did not at all determine whether he would be a commander and on whose side he would have to fight. And that was very important.

Now children, especially small ones, practically do not distinguish between conditionally good and conditionally bad heroes. After all, if you have a “real Jedi sword” in your hands, bought by your parents for 2000 rubles, then does it matter which side of the force you take? In the USSR, everyone wanted to save Chapai, or defeat the insidious guardsmen of the cardinal. That was the only thing that really mattered. If they did not want to take the child to the “good” team, this could end in a completely unchildish insult.

Another distinguishing feature of Soviet childhood: forever knocked down knees, elbows, carelessly smeared with brilliant green, scratches and abrasions. No one made a tragedy out of this: it seemed to everyone then that childhood should be really noisy and active. If we compare, then modern children, under the vigilant control of mothers and nannies, sometimes behave on playgrounds like little old people.

About scarcity and children's ingenuity

There were practically no foreign toys in the public domain. Rare lucky ones became the owners of a real Barbie doll, which was then still really produced in the USA, or a real squirt from Europe. Such toys in the hands of children spoke a lot about the status of their parents (or at least about their ability to get a shortage by hook or by crook).

Ingenuity, as always, came to the rescue - it seems that it was passed on to Soviet children at the genetic level, and it is not in vain that many modern studies show that generations of children in the USSR were much better adapted to life than they are now. Although a modern six-year-old has a disproportionately higher outlook than, for example, his peer from 1980, he is unlikely to think of asking his dad for a bottle of PVA glue, make a hole in the lid, insert a tube from a ballpoint pen there, pour water and - let's go fight. It was also possible to plan soap into the water (you can’t touch the shampoo, his mother received it “in the order” by March 8) - then the effect was just like that of foreign analogues.

As for Barbie, then, of course, it was impossible to replace her naturalistic appearance, but you could ask your parents for about 2 rubles. and buy a rubber baby from the fraternal GDR. For some reason, it was these foreign dolls that were available to a simple Soviet buyer and caused genuine delight in children. And then - you had to show all your creativity. With the help of mothers, grandmothers, older sisters, needlewomen-neighbors, the baby doll was prepared a dowry no less carefully than that of an overseas beauty. True, improvised means. And it’s okay that the hairs on the baby’s head periodically flew off - you could always cut off the brush for drawing and build him a new hairstyle. It turned out very nice, especially with a bow.

Almost every girl had such babies. In the warm season, they were taken out into the yard and arranged large-scale "daughter-mothers". They made houses from shoe boxes, furniture from improvised materials, and played real puppet shows. An analogue of calm girlish games were boyish games of soldiers. "Battles" could be arranged both at home and in the yard, and even at the entrance on the windowsill, and the choice was quite large - from dragoons during the Patriotic War of 1812 to pirates. For example, a set of cowboys produced by the Donetsk Toy Factory was especially popular with children in the 80s. For an inexperienced child of that time, these figures seemed almost alive: they were so expressive. As one of the collectors of old toys writes on a specialized forum, “the set cost 50 kopecks, and there were seven figures in it. There was a rumor that there was an eighth Indian, but wounded by an arrow. It is removed from the kit, and you can buy it separately for 25 kopecks. Now this rarity (still without the eighth figure) can be purchased for $100-200.

This is hard to imagine, but once it was the children of the USSR who were the first to "use the services of cellular communications", and absolutely free of charge. The “tubes” of telephones were made from empty matchboxes, and the whole structure was fastened with a harsh thread. The whole secret is in the tension of the thread. If the device was worked out taking into account the initial school knowledge, then the whisper of the interlocutor could be heard at a distance of 5-10 meters. However, at such a distance, a phone was not required, but it was so interesting to make something “technical” with your own hands!

Children's kaleidoscope TU-79

Of course, families lived in ordinary Soviet courtyards who could afford quite expensive toys for their child.

Here is a small list of fashionable "devices" of that time:

- huge Christmas balls - 2-3 rubles. (ordinary Christmas decorations cost about ten times cheaper);
- a large doll, similar to the doll "Alenka" in the movie "Magicians" - 3–5.50 rubles;
- plastic models of aircraft manufactured in the GDR - 5 rubles;
- collectible metal cars - 10 rubles;
- overhead projector - 10 rubles. 85 kopecks;
- a table toy like billiards or a railway - 10–15 rubles;
- a big teddy bear - 20 rubles;
- teenage bike - 50 rubles.

But even not the most prosperous Soviet family usually had the means to entertain their children. So, for example, one of the most fascinating toys - "Kaleidoscope of the USSR for children TU-79" - cost only 28 kopecks. One could look into this magic tube endlessly, admiring the whimsical patterns of colored glass. In many families that cherish traditions, and to this day, Santa Claus is solemnly erected under an expensive modern Christmas tree, produced at the Rivne factory of children's toys, the price of which is 1 rub. 85 kop. And this list can be continued for a long time.

"The winged swing is flying, flying, flying!"

There was one more moment, now it is difficult to imagine: children, deprived of strict parental control, often left the yard and arranged their own “holidays of life”. Moreover, the cost of such entertainment was quite within pocket money (it was only worth saving a little on the school buffet). So, a movie ticket for a children's session cost 10 kopecks. True, one game in the machine in the lobby of the same cinema "ate" 15 kopecks. But a pie with jam was still in the same place, in the cafeteria, bought for 2 kopecks. Even a small child could easily calculate his ability to pay.

Even the children of the USSR adored "raids" on pharmacies, where a sweet ascorbic acid cost 6 kopecks, and a hematogen tile - 8 kopecks. Modern schoolchildren, most likely, will not understand such gastronomic addictions of children of that time.

And the apotheosis of everything - sorties with the whole class or a yard company in the city park. Unlike today, the caretakers strictly followed the rules, and a child under 12 years old could not climb into the attraction for teenagers. But on the children's carousel-swings, you could easily ride for a modest amount of 5-10 kopecks. For comparison: in one of the relatively inexpensive amusement parks in Moscow last season, tickets for a two-story children's carousel, a Cosmonaut trampoline (an employee “rolls” a child) and a chain carousel cost 250 rubles each. for each attraction.

About how much the most expensive thing in the USSR - education, we will tell next time.

Cheap childhood in the USSR: wonderful school years

But was everything really so perfect in the schools of the USSR? And did our parents really get “the best education in the world”, as it was customary to declare?

A bit of history

In order to understand how effective the Soviet school system was, you need to look at the statistics. After the October Revolution, the Bolsheviks took the country in a truly horrendous state: the bulk of the population, and especially the peasantry, was simply illiterate. The duration of education for the average Russian in 1917 (before the October Revolution) was 1.1 years (for example: in 1987 this figure was already 8.8 years).

There were few state schools and colleges, and private gymnasiums and lyceums served the needs of only a very thin layer of the population. Social stratification in education was such that now it is impossible to imagine. In addition, no one really took care of schools for the indigenous peoples of Russia living far from the metropolis, and dozens of them did not even have their own written language.

The new government immediately began to deal with this state of affairs: in 1918-1919, decrees were adopted that changed everything: private schools were banned, free education and joint study of children of both sexes were introduced. Further - the school was separated from the church, and the church - from the state. In addition, physical punishment, which flourished in the Russian Empire, was banned in educational institutions, and all nationalities received the right to study in their native language.

As a result, by 1920, 3 million people had been taught to read and write - a huge figure for those times. And by 1922, a system of free secondary education was formed, available to everyone who could and wanted to study: an elementary school (four years of study), a basic comprehensive school, and a senior level (a total of 9-10 years of study). As a result, the census of the population of the USSR, conducted in 1959, confirmed that illiteracy in the country was over.

Through the valleys and over the hills: how the Soviet school “stormed”

Do not think that the school system in the USSR did not experience its ups and downs. There have always been "optimizers" and "reformers" who literally tried to reduce all achievements to zero.

So, in 1940, a decree was issued “On establishing tuition fees in senior classes of secondary schools and in higher educational institutions of the USSR and on changing the procedure for awarding scholarships,” which jeopardized one of the main achievements of the Soviet government - free education for all.

In practice, it looked like this: tuition fees in grades 8-10 of secondary schools, technical schools, pedagogical and other schools ranged from 150 to 200 rubles a year. Education in universities is more expensive, 300-500 rubles a year. In 1940, this averaged about 10% of the average family's budget. That is, the children of the same peasants and workers, for the education of which the Soviet government fought so hard, immediately found themselves "overboard" a bright future. Indeed, at that time, 5-7 children each - from peasants and 3-4 children each - in working-class families were the norm, and even 2-3 of them were unrealistic to pay for education.

Education fees were abolished only in 1956, so to say that education in the USSR has always been free is to sin against the truth.

There were other similar initiatives. For example, in 1943, boys and girls were again taught separately. True, this applied only to Moscow, Leningrad, the capitals of the Union republics and a number of other large cities. A very strange initiative for a country where gender equality was declared. As a result, the authorities officially recognized that the reform does not provide advantages in the organization of the pedagogical process, but creates difficulties in educational work.” And the Council of Ministers of the USSR abolished the division of classes "by gender" in 1954.

School years are gone forever. Only the heart is warm and pleasant

Perhaps the image of the Soviet school in particular, and education in general, which has developed in our country, refers to the years of “late socialism”. This is confirmed by dates and numbers.

- In 1973 in the USSR, state budget expenditures on higher educational institutions amounted to 2.97 billion rubles, on technical schools, colleges and schools - 1.79 billion rubles, on vocational education - 2.09 billion rubles.

– In 1975, there were 856 universities in the USSR (including 65 universities), where more than 4.9 million students studied. In terms of the number of students, the Soviet Union significantly surpassed such countries as Great Britain, Germany, France, etc.
- In the 1975-1976 academic year, there were 167 thousand general education schools in the country, in which 48.8 million people studied. The training of teachers and educators was carried out at 65 universities, 200 pedagogical institutes and 404 colleges.
- The right of citizens to free education at all levels - from primary to higher - was enshrined in the 1977 Constitution of the USSR in Article 45.

All these measures worked - in any case, the level of education was really high, but there were some pitfalls.

On the one hand, the children lived according to a clear schedule and with clear moral principles. They were brought up in the spirit of comradely support, social activity, internationalism and other qualities. Then no one could have imagined that it was possible to film the beating of a classmate and publicly brag about it. And “pulling up” those who are lagging behind or doing what they can to help lonely old people were considered absolutely everyday things.

On the other hand, Puritan morality reigned in schools and it was by no means only related to appearance. Any act or statement that runs counter to "the party line" could cost the offender very dearly. Any free-thinking - from timid attempts to criticize the economic situation in the country to the "wrong" skirt length for a high school student - could end in a "wolf ticket".

Shot from the film “Tomorrow there was a war” © Illustration of the Afisha Mail.Ru project

On the one hand, teachers, as a rule, were responsible for their functions. Now it is impossible to imagine that a teacher, completely free of charge and voluntarily, would leave a group of students who did not cope with the task after class and conduct additional classes with them.

On the other hand, schools, as a rule, were always overcrowded, although the “influx of migrants” was then never heard of. Up to five parallels, 40 people in each class, studying on the second and even on the third shift - all this did not surprise anyone in the mid-70s, even in a relatively prosperous capital.

On the one hand, the children of the Land of the Soviets were provided with all-round development in their free time from school. So, in 1971, there were 4,403 palaces and houses of pioneers and schoolchildren in the USSR, over 7,000 children's sectors at houses of culture, 1,008 stations for young technicians, 587 stations for young naturalists, 202 excursion and tourist stations, an uncountable number of circles and sections at schools, ZhEKs, etc. All this was provided free of charge or almost free of charge.

On the other hand, the overorganization that distinguished the October-pioneer-Komsomol system was an exact cast from adult life. Along with useful activities, such as collecting waste paper or medicinal herbs, schoolchildren spent a lot of time on political information, gathering councils for detachments or squads, “studying” those who were at fault, and similar activities.

School expenses in the USSR

Of course, everyone has their own memories and their own assessment of the departed values. It is important that the generation of our parents, for the most part, remembers the Soviet school with nostalgia. Moreover, the cost of school needs was really not burdensome for every family. A small list of things every student needs (prices of the late 70s):

– School textbooks – free of charge.

- A brown school dress for girls made of wool - 8-10 rubles.
- A dress with a pleated skirt (a terrible shortage) - 15 rubles.
- Black "everyday" apron - 3.5 rubles.
- White apron "for a solemn occasion" - about 3 rubles.
- Cuffs and collars that were sewn to clothes - from 50 kopecks. up to 1 rub.
- School suit for a boy (plus a shirt) -17.50 rubles.
- Pioneer tie (size 100x30, 1 grade) - 52 kopecks.

- School breakfast without the first - 20 kopecks.
- School lunch (first, second, third and bun) - 30 kopecks.
- School notebook (12 sheets) - 2 kopecks.
- Atlas of the history of the USSR - 8 kopecks.
- School diary - 14 kopecks.
- Album for drawing - 51 kopecks.
- School decorating paints (dry, 8 colors) - 30 kopecks.
- Plasticine for children (12 colors) - 48 kopecks.

- School plastic triangle - 8 kopecks.
- Square 23 cm - 16 kopecks.
- The newspaper "Pionerskaya Pravda" - 2 kopecks.
- Monthly Komsomol membership fees - 2 kopecks.

In general, I don’t like any memories from my Soviet childhood, because all of it, Soviet and early post-Soviet, is sheer fear. Fear of loneliness. Fear in anticipation of a mother who leaves for work early in the morning and arrives late in the evening. At first, you are afraid in a manger - they leave you in them already a year, and this is luck, because someone is handed over to the state kosht as early as two months. You go from nursery to kindergarten and you are also afraid. You are still led by the hand to the younger and middle groups, sometimes you go to the older ones yourself. And at home you are left alone. At the age of three, you know how to turn on the stove, deftly wield a knife, open and close the front door yourself, wear the key around your neck. You know not to let strangers in, to go out into the backyard, to walk until dark, and to fall behind the company in the evening.

You are considered completely independent and even smart. And you remember only one thing - fear.

The Soviet child, with rare exceptions, lived in fear. Because any child first of all needed parents, or rather, a mother. Only a mother gives a sense of care and security. All children's independence, which the state imposed on families, turned into severe psychological trauma. Because it is extremely important for a child that his diaper be changed on time, his snot be wiped off in time, or the door opened in front of him. If there is no regular care, the child feels only one thing - insecurity. And fear.

It began even in the maternity hospital, when the baby was taken away from the mother for an average of three days - it was believed that so much time was required for a woman to recover from childbirth. In the maternity hospital, children were kept in a manger, small bags screamed for days on end. Children were brought up without breast milk - the maternity hospital did everything so that the mother did not have it. Because by three months she had to go to work. And the child? The child was placed in a nursery. There he was dressed in official clothes so that there would be less laundry at home, and they were placed in a large wooden arena, where he lay, crawled, and learned to walk along with others. There was constant screaming in the manger, the kids were wet and dirty. There were also nurseries around the clock, with a five-day stay.

If there was no nursery nearby, then the child was left alone. There are many memories in the literature about how mothers put the baby on the floor so that it would not fall, and tied it with a rope to the leg of the table so that it would not crawl away. There is such a story in The Zinc Boys.

The happiest stayed at home with their grandmothers, older brothers, sisters or hired nannies. Because of the cheapness, girls of 10-12 years old were often hired as nannies.

A five-day period was popular, where the child could be handed over on Monday morning and picked up on Friday evening. The more difficult a person's job, the more time his child was asked to spend in a round-the-clock nursery. From Monday to Friday, employees of the KGB, the prosecutor's office, Goznak often handed over their children to the kindergarten and nursery, responsible leaders of the primary and middle levels did this. Such nurseries still remain. There is a famous garden-resort near the Central Bank. There are several dozen round-the-clock kindergartens in Moscow, including nurseries.

Today, the need to send a child to such a kindergarten becomes a terrible tragedy for parents, but then it was the norm.

The USSR has always been proud that it has more kindergartens than in America. It was presented as an achievement of socialism. In fact, it was a huge failure, because the average American worker, until the late 1980s, could feed his family alone. And we have a mother of an infant was forced to work. And up to a certain time, it is also obliged: only in 1968, women were allowed to sit with children up to a year, and without benefits - before they had to work.

And the children were handed over to the garden, where they were taught to quickly make a bed with a blanket and a fluffy pillow, carefully hang clothes on the side of the bed, not fidget during sleep, eat up porridge, obey the teachers and especially the nannies. In kindergartens, the teacher did not always, but had at least an initial special education, the nanny had none. The nannies received a penny and got a job in a kindergarten either in order to be close to their child, or for the sake of work experience, or to carry children's leftovers to pigs. Therefore, the contingent was formed specific, often - from random people. In the gardens one could sometimes hear swearing, the nannies smelled of fumes, in the kitchens there was a three-story swearing. From these kitchens a stream of fat-meaty aunts with trunks did not dry up - they stole shamelessly in the canteens. To get a job in a children's canteen in the USSR has always been considered a rare success, because these canteens were supplied uninterruptedly.

Children's cruelty flourished in the kindergarten. Educators did not particularly stop this, for many it was the norm. In addition, it was believed that the child had to go through the school of life. Staying in the garden from two months and five days was then explained, among other things, by the need to socialize the child.

In fact, the skills of coexistence in a randomly selected team of 30 people, the ability to eat useless semolina porridge by force and obey unquestioning boors were only useful to criminals.

I think that hardly every person has a number of the most intimate memories from the Soviet garden, associated with rudeness and violence. With my intolerance to cow protein, milk soup was poured down the collar. I also remember how a boyfriend came to our teacher during a walk and they immediately, on the site, whipped beer.

At school, of course, teachers behaved more decently. However, this was of little importance, because in the Soviet school they instilled not only and not so much culture or knowledge, but discipline and ideas.

Soviet teachers could hit a child on the back of the head, on the hands until the mid-2000s, until the teachers themselves were beaten for such pranks. Fortunately for them, only affordable. In the Soviet school, children were addressed with "you", often teachers gave them nicknames. The teacher who said “you” to the child got into the all-Union newspaper Pravda - he was such a rarity. The Soviet school did not allow children the right to privacy. It was impossible to raise a hand and ask to leave the class: it was necessary to clarify why.

Only children with mediocre intellectual or spiritual abilities, with a low level of culture in the family, could love the Soviet school. Children who were looking for themselves in a collective idea, a collective task, a collective work. The backbone of any totalitarian regime is a person without his own values, because he easily accepts corporate values. For example, he likes to pin the same stars on everyone, hang ties around their necks, so that everyone sings the same anthem.

Such a child happily participated in school rulers, general meetings, or bullying classmates. And he was usually very fond of the Soviet pioneer camps. A normal child from a caring family, unless he is a rare extrovert and not an energy vampire, will never voluntarily go to live in one ward for several weeks - what a name! - with eleven other children, get up on the bugle, dine on the gong, walk in formation and go hungry all the time, because in the camps traditionally there was little and traditionally bad food. Children, with rare exceptions, were sent to the pioneer camp for only one purpose - to get away with it, to free up time for relaxation. They lived closely, often quarreled - the parents dreamed of taking a break from their children. Today, this prosaic motif is trying to give a romantic charm.

A separate topic today, almost forgotten, is the exploitation of child and youth labor by the Union. Few people remember that schoolchildren came to work off in the summer: they made repairs, washed windows, and cleaned the school park. Whom did they owe and what did they work out? What about potato trips? The fact that this was a huge crime against childhood and education is remembered by a few, the rest often remember the "potato" as a school of life, lessons of independence and hard work.

The province sent “for potatoes” from the fifth grade, megacities - from the eighth. Agricultural work for the first one and a half to two autumn months was mandatory for all schools, technical schools and almost all universities. Exceptions were made for schoolchildren only for Moscow and the capitals of the Union republics. Yes, and they were violated in the case of emergency harvesting. Any school in the USSR supplied the sponsored collective farms and state farms with labor for digging potatoes, picking or sorting carrots, cabbage. Can you imagine what kind of state farms they were, if fifth-graders had to take patronage over them?

“On potatoes” children lived from hand to mouth, overwrought themselves, climbed into the ground with their hands with fertilizers and pesticides, which were not spared in the USSR. They sometimes got pregnant there, became victims of violence - a former Soviet criminologist told me that during his career he went to rape "on potatoes" more than once.

Children from Central Asia were driven to pick cotton. There, from September to November, starting from the third grade, under the scorching sun, they dragged 20-kilogram bags to the tractor cart. “The power of a student is 60 kilowatts” - a Tajik joke of those years. This is the daily norm for 14-year-old students of schools. The receivers on the scales underestimated the indicators, in order to immediately beat off the surplus, they had to collect more. Millionaire state farms in Asia grew stronger on the sale of unrecorded cotton, on child labor. And the children returned with sick stomachs, eczema, acne, because the fields at that time were sprayed with a defoliant.

So there was no superconcern for children in the USSR - there was their exploitation.

And the kids weren't eating well. Semolina porridge from diapers, cow's milk - everything that is forbidden to give to children today. In one of the reports of the European branch of WHO, she read that more than 70% of Soviet infants in the 1970s were obese according to the paratrophy type: they were fat and short, as they ate exclusively carbohydrates. Teenagers lived on potatoes, cereals and pasta. From vegetables - cabbage, carrots, beets, onions, half-rotten in the fields. From proteins - sausages with "Tea" sausage and cyanotic chickens, which soon disappeared, as well as eggs, which disappeared a little later. According to the same WHO, Soviet children suffered en masse from anemia of all types and protein-calorie deficiency. Simply put, they were undernourished.

Many will say: well, we went “for potatoes”, we were alone at home, but it was safe in the cities. This is the scariest myth ever!

There were crimes against children. There were pedophiles. There were maniacs. I would even say more: there were no serial maniacs with 80 victims in post-Soviet Russia. And they were in the Union!

And there were domestic rapes of children. But there was no intolerant reaction to them from society. First, there were no media resources for publicizing the crimes. Secondly, they were hushed up - the rule about taking out rubbish from the hut in the Union was observed much more strictly than now. Third, society was more tolerant of pedophilia and nymphetomania.

I make such a provocative statement responsibly. Harassing schoolgirls on the street, slapping on the bottom, flirting - all this was no longer the norm, but was considered tolerable until the 2000s. Soviet society as a whole was more tolerant of crimes against children than it is today. The Criminal Code of the RSFSR in Art. 119-129 indicated that sexual intercourse with a person who had not reached puberty, as well as depraved acts with minors, were punishable by imprisonment for up to three years. Very often, for sex with minors, they were sentenced only to "chemistry", a colony-settlement. I know a man who served two years of "chemistry" for cohabitation with a minor - he was sent from Surgut to Tyumen, where he worked at a sheepskin and fur factory and could go out into the city. On this "chemistry" he found himself another schoolgirl girlfriend.

I also argue that in Soviet elite culture, in Soviet art, there was a distinct tendency to eroticize childhood. That could not but affect the culture of everyday life. In the cinema, on the picturesque canvases, naked children appeared in erotic poses. "The Girl and the Echo" and "The Abduction of the Savoy" remember? In painting, they were even less shy. Pure children's erotica was sometimes written by Bogdanov-Belsky, Deineka, Nikolai Chernyshev. Their pictures were printed on calendars. Photographer Nikolai Filippov filmed exclusively children's erotica: naked children in the sand, naked girls stretching at the ballet barre, boys and girls in bulging panties. It was official photography.

And there is no need to say that the population used to be clean and not corrupted by debauchery, so they did not see anything wrong with children's erotica and allowed 12-year-old girls to go to the beach naked. It is we who have now become more moral and have begun to condemn what seemed normal 50 years ago. Humanity is still taking steps towards condemning early sex, early marriage.

The country was not safe for a child. Rather, it was more dangerous than today, because the child spent much more time alone or with friends.

Rapists and molesters are not the main enemies of Soviet children. Much more of them died and were crippled in the course of self-cooking dinner, walking on rooftops, playing at a construction site, walking through landfills, catching up through pipes of heating mains, when finding and sawing shells, cartridges, playing with fire, swinging the swing "sun". Unfamiliar men tried to take me away from the yard twice, at the age of seven drunken shots at me and my girlfriend from the window, at eight I was almost stabbed by an old neighbor with a knitting needle. We lived on the usual outskirts of an ordinary regional center. And it was an ordinary Soviet childhood. Perhaps slightly spoiled by perestroika.

Many children in the USSR and in the 1990s died solely from homelessness. Moreover, even when the parents were at home, the children ran outside. Poor housing, crowded lives, tired mothers and often drunken fathers forced children to spend their lives on the street. Many simply did not have a warm relationship with their parents: children, like orphans, grew up without breasts, in nurseries and round-the-clock gardens, and were flogged for any reason.

Several generations of Soviet people grew up without trusting relationships, love and hugs.

Those who today say that they were safe in the Soviet Union simply did not meet so much horror. Perhaps they lived in good families, were brought up by mothers, grandmothers or nannies. Or maybe their psyche has forced out all the difficult memories, leaving in their heads only a creamy ice cream in a waffle cup.

Only an aberration of memory makes people who went through their Soviet childhood with a key around their necks regret their past and sincerely wish their own children the same fate.

However, there is another problem. Of the approximately 600 million people who lived in the USSR during its entire existence, there were a couple of million who were lucky enough to be born into well-fed families. They just didn't know how the rest of the country lived. And now they don't want to know. Even in the blockade, there were children who did not remember the war, but only remembered the fluffy snow, the blue sky and the delicious cake that they ate at the Krupskaya confectionery factory, where they lived in a closed area and where not a single employee died of starvation during the entire blockade.

Today, these children miss the Union with Stalin terribly and write books about how tasteless cake has become in Russia.

Sociologists' research shows that Soviet childhood is now in vogue. “I want to go back to the USSR. How good it was then - probably the best time in my life ”- more and more often this phrase can be heard not only from veterans whose biography is firmly connected with Soviet times, but also from those who have barely turned 30. People, who in 1991 were 13-15 years old, lovingly collect Soviet films and exchange memories of their pioneer childhood. Nostalgia for the Soviet past is becoming common among thirty-somethings…

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“We were lucky that our childhood and youth ended before the government bought FREEDOM from the youth in exchange for roller skates, mobile phones, star factories and cool crackers (by the way, soft for some reason) ... With her common consent ... For her own (seemingly) good ... "- this is a fragment from a text called "Generation 76-82." Those who are now somewhere in their thirties reprint it with great pleasure on the pages of their Internet diaries. He became a kind of manifesto of the generation.

From the "stupid scoop" to the "golden age"

It's funny that just a decade and a half ago, the same people who today fondly recall the symbols of a bygone era themselves rejected everything Soviet and sought to resemble their more conservative parents as little as possible.

The strange unconsciousness of youth extends to the more recent past. At the turn of the 80s and 90s, a significant part of young people dreamed of leaving altogether - emigration, even to a third world country, was considered more attractive than life in a collapsing Soviet state:

"Though a carcass, even a stuffed animal, only faster out of this mess."

“Soviet clothing is a nightmare, squalor, it is impossible to wear, some galoshes“ goodbye youth ”are worth something. Soviet technology was clearly not made by hand, but by something else: it does not work, it is not being repaired. Soviet products are sausage, 90% toilet paper, butter from margarine and beer on the water "...

Who would have dared to deny these axioms fifteen years ago?!

But, as you know, time is the best remedy for childhood illness of leftism. Having matured, young people have ceased to be so categorical. Now memories of Rubin TVs, Vega tape recorders, Krasnaya Moskva perfumes, plaid shirts, red coats, ice cream for 15 kopecks and soda in vending machines cause a slight sadness and regret that they will never be again.

The Soviet past is rapidly overgrown with touching legends and before our eyes turns into a wonderful myth about the golden age of mankind. Modern thirty-year-olds are so hungry for a fairy tale that they are ready to amputate their own memory.

At the end of the 1980s, few of them would have thought to admire Soviet pop songs or Soviet films - it was too primitive. It was more important to understand how to get rich quickly, get the maximum variety in sex, achieve success and recognition in the big city. Instead of VIA "Gems" and films about village life, the last Soviet teenagers wanted to watch Hollywood thrillers and listen to Scorpions and Queen.

But time has done its usual trick with them: having fully received what they dreamed of at the dawn of a foggy youth, modern thirty-year-olds began to dream of what they once so ruthlessly despised. And the old Soviet films about the war and the development of virgin lands suddenly acquired in their eyes a meaning that they once categorically refused to see.

Why did people who rejected everything Soviet suddenly become nostalgic for a time that they barely had time to catch? According to sociological research, there are two reasons. One of them lies on the surface: nostalgia for the Soviet Union is in many ways just nostalgia for childhood. Everyone tends to idealize childhood. The bad is forgotten, only bright memories remain about what a wonderful taste the ice cream had and how joyful the people looked at the demonstration.

However, it seems that for the current generation of thirty-year-olds, nostalgia has become a kind of religion that largely determines their attitude to life in general. They are proud that they had a chance to live in the Soviet Union, and believe that it is the Soviet experience that makes them incomparably better than today's youth, who have grown up after 1991:

“And yet, if I had a choice, I would have chosen the end of the 80s. I didn't understand anything back then. I was 17-19 years old. I didn’t know how to communicate, I didn’t want anything from life and didn’t understand at all how and why people live ... I didn’t get anything out of these years, but I could (I just understood this now). Perhaps that is why they are now my most favorite, chaotic, obscure times, ”writes roman_shebalin.

“How I want to go back to my childhood! In our childhood. Back when there were no video game consoles, roller skates, and Coca-Cola stands on every corner. When there were no nightclubs and everyone gathered for a rehearsal of a local rock band that played DDT and Chizh. When words cost more than money. When we were."

The reason for this "non-childish" nostalgia, apparently, is deeper than just longing for the past youth. Idealizing the Soviet past, today's thirty-year-olds unconsciously talk about what they don't like about the present.
From an unfree state to unfree people

“As kids, we drove cars without seat belts or airbags. Riding a horse-drawn cart on a warm summer day was an indescribable pleasure. Our cribs were painted with bright, high lead paints. There were no secret lids on medicine bottles, doors were often not locked, and cupboards were never locked. We drank water from a pump on the corner, not from plastic bottles. No one could have thought of riding a bike with a helmet on. Horror!" - it's all from the same "manifesto".

“We have become less free!” - this cry of despair sounds in many records. Here is another quote:

“I remember that time, and the main feeling is a feeling of complete freedom. Life was not subject to such a rigid schedule as it is now, and there was much more free time. Parents had a vacation for a month, and if someone was sick, they calmly took sick leave, and did not go to work barely alive. You could go wherever you want, and no one will forbid you. There were no combination locks and intercoms, there were no guards at every entrance, in every store. The airport was an interesting place to start the journey, and not part of the maximum security zone, as it is now. In general, there were almost no signs like “No passage”, “Only for personnel”, “Forbidden”.

There is a strange metamorphosis of memories. In the Soviet Union, the menacing inscriptions "No entry!" was much more than now. But our memory of childhood carefully erases them, and the memory of what we saw a couple of days ago completes these notorious tablets.

Objectively, Soviet society was much less free than today's. And not only politically. A person's life moved along a strictly scheduled route: a district kindergarten - a district school - an institute / army - distribution work. Variations were minimal.

The same is with life. Everyone ate the same meatballs, rode the same bikes and took out to the same Zarnitsa. Long hair, leather jackets with studs, even basic jeans - all this could attract the attention of the police, or at least the condemning glances of the old women at the entrance. Now, wear whatever you want, and if you don’t look like an illegal Uzbek, the police don’t give a damn about you, and the grandmothers don’t care either, especially since you almost never see them along with the benches at the entrances.

Everyone could become a revolutionary by being rude to the foreman or coming to school without a pioneer tie. We now live in one of the freest societies in the history of mankind. Again, this is not about politics, but rather about culture and lifestyle. The state intervenes to a minimum in the private life of a person. The notorious "vertical of power", which permeates the political process through and through, never crosses the threshold of the apartment. And the society itself has not yet managed to develop sufficiently firm norms and cannot tell the citizen what is possible and what is not.

Where does this sense of unfreedom come from? Most likely, it comes from within. The current thirty-year-olds themselves drive themselves into a very rigid framework. You need to work and earn money, you need to look decent, you need to behave seriously, you need to have a mobile phone with Bluetooth, you need to eat food without GM additives, you need to read Minaev and Coelho. Need, need, need!

For thirty-year-olds, real freedom is not freedom of speech or assembly, but, above all, the opportunity to live calmly, without straining and have a lot of free time. But they were expected to become the first generation free from the "scoop", a generation of energetic builders of capitalism. This is what it looked like in the early 90s. Young people enthusiastically took up business, career, enthusiastically plunged into the world of consumer joys. But gradually the enthusiasm waned. At some stage, they simply “burned out”.

Today, for most of them, work and career remain the main life guidelines. However, there is no longer that drive that was an integral part of their life in the 90s. Most people still evaluate success in life as: "The larger the apartment, the more expensive the car, the more successful the person." But many things have already been bought, impressions received, ambitions satisfied. Life is boring!
KGB in my head

If you conduct a content analysis, most likely it turns out that the frequency of the use of the word “security” has increased hundreds of times over the past twenty years. In the USSR there was an all-powerful organization - the State Security Committee. They were afraid of her, jokes were told about her. But the very idea of security was not so intrusive.

But now this word is the key at all levels - from high politics to your own apartment. We are surrounded by secret passwords everywhere. Enter the entrance - code, open the apartment - several locks, turn on the computer - password, upload your own email - password again ...

But no one imposes these rules, people choose them themselves. And they sadly recall their childhood: “We left the house in the morning and played all day, returning when the street lights were lit - where they were. All day no one could find out where we were. There were no mobile phones! It is hard to imagine. We cut arms and legs, broke bones and knocked out teeth, and no one sued anyone. Anything happened. We were the only ones to blame and no one else. Remember? We fought to the bone and walked around with bruises, getting used to not paying attention to it.

Garbage toys against Chinese sabers

Children's toys and games are the whole world. For many, it leaves a much more vivid memory than adult fun like a Toyota car or the position of head of a department.

Millions of Soviet children had a favorite bear - short, faded, unconvincing. But it was he who was entrusted with the most important secrets, it was he who played the role of a home psychoanalyst when we were ill. And with what rapture we played "red" and "white", armed with rifles carved from sticks!

Let's quote the diary of user tim_timych again: “What was it like climbing through garages, collecting rubbish that no one needed, among which sometimes there were such pearls as gas masks, from which rubber bands for slingshots could be cut. And the found bottle of acetone was enthusiastically burned at the stake, where lead was melted from discarded car batteries for buckshot, langa and just like that, having nothing to do, for the sake of interest, to stare at the molten metal.

The market economy has given rise to a simple principle: everything that is in demand must be commercialized. Remember how they played knights in yard companies? How were shields and swords made from rubbish found in a landfill? Now plastic armor and weapons are sold in any kiosk: if you want - a pirate saber, if you want - a Scythian akinak. It's worth every penny: to buy a set of a legionnaire or a cowboy, it is enough to save several times on Coca-Cola.

Fireworks and firecrackers are sold ready-made, and there is no need to conduct chemical experiments behind garages. And teddy bears made in China can be bought in bags. Only less and less among them is the same cross-eared freak - the beloved and the only one ...

Looking at their children, today's young people have ambivalent feelings. On the one hand, it’s enviable: to go to a kiosk and for some pennies buy an exact copy of the Scorpion submachine gun with a magazine and an ammunition load of a thousand bullets - but for this the boy of the 80s, without hesitation, would agree to sell his soul or endure each rubbish day! But there is no unique flavor in it. It does not involve one's own labor (when a pale analogue of such a thing was made with one's own hands), the exclusivity of the case is not associated with it (if it was a gift, for example, brought from abroad).

And in the end, this weapon is gathering dust somewhere under the bed: it doesn’t matter - dad will buy a new one tomorrow. Dad will not get poor, he makes good money.

But sorry for the child.

Friends stayed in the USSR

Another reason for nostalgia is the legend of pure and open relationships between people. Here alta_luna recalls:

“The kind of friendship that my young parents had with other young couples has never happened before in their lives. I remember interesting things - men are on business trips, women are waiting.

In another diary we read: “We had friends. We left the house and found them. We rode bikes, struck matches in spring streams, sat on a bench, on a fence or in a school yard and chatted about whatever we wanted. When we needed someone, we knocked on the door, rang the bell, or just walked in and saw them. Remember? Without asking! Sami!"

Thirty-year-olds suffer from fewer and fewer friends. They just don't have enough time. To see an old friend, you have to make an appointment almost a month in advance.

And the meetings themselves are becoming shorter and more formal: everyone is busy, everyone has things to do. The ability to contact a person at any time and cancel or change previous agreements provokes the optionality:

“Sorry, the plans have changed, let’s not at 5 today, but at 8, or better tomorrow at 5. But better, let’s call tomorrow along the way and agree.”

No time.

Most thirty-year-olds are dissatisfied with their lives, but do not see real opportunities to change it. To change something, it takes time, but it just doesn’t exist. One has only to stop the rapid run for a minute, as soon as you are thrown to the side of the road. And thirty-year-olds cannot afford this.

“Soon 30. There is no time. Tachycardia, pulse 90 beats / min instead of the prescribed 70. I drink the medicine without reading the instructions, I trust the doctor. There is no time to read the operating instructions for the purchased machine, only individual items. The loan agreement was signed at the bank, running through his eyes. I just made sure that my name and code were there, there was no time for employees either. When was the last time you drank beer with friends? I don't remember, over a year ago. Friends are a luxury. Only for teenagers. I talk to my mom when she calls. This is not good, you should do it yourself more often. I come home, my wife and children are sleeping. I will kiss my daughter, I will stand over my son, I will hug my wife. On the weekends, I turn on the TV, meditate on the screen, simultaneously flipping through all the channels, there’s no time to watch one, and it’s already uninteresting. What book would I like to read? It seems, "Anna Karenina", half remained. I don't get it, it's too big. Does not work. There is no time, I'm running. I'm running. I’m running,” complains about life contas.

A revolution in the name of the bicycle?

“Lately, I often think about what a great country we pissed off. This country was called the USSR. It was a great and free country. Which could send everyone and dictate its inexorable will to everyone on our planet Earth, ”the user fallenleafs writes in his diary.

Nostalgia for one's own childhood sometimes smoothly turns into nostalgia for the political regime. The Soviet Union became associated with state development, scope, imperial power, as well as with a calm, stable and happy life:

"It was a time when there was no unemployment, terrorism and national conflicts, people's relations were simple and understandable, feelings were sincere, and desires were uncomplicated."

Nostalgia for the past in different eras turned out to be a very powerful driving force of socio-political development. For example, the return of socialist parties to power in some Eastern European states already in the post-Soviet period was also largely caused by nostalgia for the Soviet times.

It seems to us that nothing like this can happen in modern Russia. The generation in their thirties is too apolitical, too immersed in personal life, to give serious support to any political force. And if dissatisfaction with their own lives grows, this will only further spur their political absenteeism. Instead of active actions, the current thirty-year-olds choose quiet sadness about the bright time of their childhood, which is gone forever.

The last generation of Soviet youth as a whole was marked by the fertile seal of deep indifference to politics. While adults broke the Soviet system, and then tried to build something new on its ruins, young people were busy with personal problems. The only area of public life in which this generation excelled was business. That is why there are so many businessmen or managers among them, and so few politicians or public figures.

But the desire to link the irrevocably gone past with the ruthless present cannot always be interpreted in line with political actions. After all, they yearn not so much for the social system as for teddy bears, Cossack robbers and the first kiss in the stairwell. It is hard to imagine a revolution under the slogan "Give me back the right to ride a bike and be happy!" However, in May 1968, French students built barricades under slogans such as "Under the pavement - the beach!" and "It is forbidden to prohibit!".

It seems that today's thirty-year-olds, deprived of political ambitions, see the problem of historical change in a completely different way. The Soviet world allowed them to be human, but modernity does not. After all the social catastrophes of the 20th century, for the first time it becomes clear that in any political system, the main and only important figure is a person. And the riot of consumer instincts is just as deceitful as the communism promised by the 1980s. We no longer have illusions, we no longer have a single hope that the salvation of man will come from somewhere else - from politics or economics, it is not so important.

The current thirty-year-olds, it seems, are the first generation of Russian people left alone with themselves. Without the crutches of ideology, without the magic wand in the face of the West. And then the memories of the Soviet past really begin to burn the soul with a merciless fire of envy.

In order to feel their own human value, there were few opportunities, but they were all well known to everyone. Everyone knew what books to read, what films to watch and what to talk about at night in the kitchen. This was a personal gesture, giving satisfaction and instilling pride. Today's time, with the infinity of possibilities, makes such a gesture almost impossible or, by definition, marginal. Man found himself in the face of a monstrous abyss of himself, his own human "I", which until now has always been successfully camouflaged by the problem of social demand.

The thirteen-year-old generation lost the right to the familiar pronoun "we." This confusion is not before the time with its economic rigidity, but before one's own reflection in the mirror. Who am I? What do I want? Hence the meditations on youth. A person is trying to find the answer to painful questions where he began as a person. But this journey is not to the Soviet past. This is a journey into the depths of your own soul and your own consciousness.

I don't like Soviet cartoons. From Soviet children's songs, a cold, slimy ball shrinks in my stomach. In general, I don’t like any memories from my Soviet childhood, because all of it, Soviet and early post-Soviet, is sheer fear.

Fear of loneliness. Fear in anticipation of a mother who leaves for work early in the morning and arrives late in the evening. At first you are afraid in a manger - they leave you in them for a year already, and this is luck, because someone is handed over to the state kosht as early as two months. You go from nursery to kindergarten and you are also afraid. You are still led by the hand to the younger and middle groups, sometimes you go to the older ones yourself. And at home you are left alone. At the age of three, you know how to turn on the stove, deftly wield a knife, open and close the front door yourself, wear the key around your neck. You know not to let strangers in, to go out into the backyard, to walk until dark, and to fall behind the company in the evening.

You are considered completely independent and even smart. And you remember only one thing - fear.

If there was no nursery nearby, the child was left alone. There are many memories in the literature about how mothers put the baby on the floor so that it would not fall, and tied it with a rope to the leg of the table so that it would not crawl away. There is such a story in The Zinc Boys. The happiest stayed at home with their grandmothers, older brothers, sisters or hired nannies. Because of the cheapness, girls aged 10–12 were often hired as nannies.

Today, the need to send a child to such a kindergarten becomes a terrible tragedy for parents, but then it was the norm.

The USSR has always been proud that it has more kindergartens than in America. It was presented as an achievement of socialism. In fact, it was a huge failure, because the average American worker, until the late 1980s, could feed his family alone. And we have a mother of an infant was forced to work. Moreover, until a certain time, it is also obliged: only in 1968, women were allowed to sit with children up to a year, and without benefits - before they had to work.

And the children were handed over to the garden, where they were taught to quickly make a bed with a blanket and a fluffy pillow, carefully hang clothes on the side of the bed, not fidget during sleep, eat up porridge, obey the teachers and especially the nannies. In kindergartens, the teacher did not always, but had at least an initial special education, the nanny had none. Nannies received a penny and got a job in a kindergarten either in order to be close to their child, or for the sake of work experience, or to carry children's leftovers to pigs. Therefore, the contingent was formed specific, often - from random people. In the gardens one could sometimes hear swearing, the nannies smelled of fumes, in the kitchens there was a three-story swearing. From these kitchens a stream of fat-meaty aunts with trunks did not dry out - they stole shamelessly in the dining rooms. To get a job in a children's canteen in the USSR has always been considered a rare success, because these canteens were supplied uninterruptedly.

In fact, the skills of coexistence in a randomly selected team of 30 people, the ability to eat useless semolina porridge by force and obey unquestioning boors were only useful to criminals.

Soviet teachers could hit a child on the back of the head, on the hands until the mid-2000s, until the teachers themselves were beaten for such pranks. Fortunately for them, only affordable. In the Soviet school, children were addressed with "you", often teachers gave them nicknames. The teacher who told the child “you” got into the all-Union newspaper Pravda - he was such a rarity. The Soviet school did not allow children the right to privacy. It was impossible to raise a hand and ask to leave the class: it was necessary to clarify why.

Only children with mediocre intellectual or spiritual abilities, with a low level of culture in the family, could love the Soviet school. Children who were looking for themselves in a collective idea, a collective task, a collective work. The backbone of any totalitarian regime is a person without his own values, because he easily accepts corporate values. For example, he likes to pin the same stars on everyone, hang ties around their necks, so that everyone sings the same anthem. Such a child happily participated in school rulers, general meetings, or bullying classmates. And he was usually very fond of the Soviet pioneer camps. A normal child from a caring family, unless he is a rare extrovert and not an energy vampire, will never voluntarily go to live in one ward for several weeks - what a name! - with eleven other children, get up on the bugle, dine on the gong, walk in formation and go hungry all the time, because in the camps traditionally there was little and traditionally bad food. Children, with rare exceptions, were sent to the pioneer camp for only one purpose - to get away with it, to free up time for relaxation. They lived closely, often quarreled - parents dreamed of taking a break from their children. Today, this prosaic motif is trying to give a romantic charm.

The province sent “for potatoes” from the fifth grade, megacities - from the eighth. Agricultural work for the first one and a half to two autumn months was mandatory for all schools, technical schools and almost all universities. Exceptions were made for schoolchildren only for Moscow and the capitals of the Union republics. Yes, and they were violated in the case of emergency harvesting. Any school in the USSR supplied the sponsored collective farms and state farms with labor for digging potatoes, picking or sorting carrots, cabbage. Can you imagine what kind of state farms they were, if fifth-graders had to take patronage over them?

Children from Central Asia were driven to pick cotton. There, from September to November, starting from the third grade, under the scorching sun, they dragged 20-kilogram bags to the tractor cart. "The power of a student is 60 kilowatts" - a Tajik joke of those years. This is the daily norm for 14-year-old students of schools. The receivers on the scales underestimated the indicators, in order to immediately beat off the surplus, they had to collect more. Millionaire state farms in Asia grew stronger on the sale of unrecorded cotton, on child labor. And the children returned with sick stomachs, eczema, acne, because the fields at that time were sprayed with a defoliant.

So there was no super-concern for children in the USSR - there was their exploitation.

And the kids weren't eating well. Semolina porridge from the cradle, cow's milk - everything that is forbidden to give to children today. In one of the reports of the European branch of WHO, she read that more than 70% of Soviet infants in the 1970s were obese according to the paratrophy type: they were fat and short, as they ate exclusively carbohydrates. Teenagers lived on potatoes, cereals and pasta. From vegetables - cabbage, carrots, beets, onions, half-rotten in the fields. From proteins - sausages with "Tea" sausage and cyanotic chickens, which soon disappeared, as well as eggs, which disappeared a little later. According to the same WHO, Soviet children suffered en masse from anemia of all types and protein-calorie deficiency. Simply put, they were undernourished.

Many will say: well, we went “for potatoes”, we were alone at home, but it was safe in the cities. This is the scariest myth ever!

There were crimes against children. There were pedophiles. There were maniacs. I would even say more: there were no serial maniacs with 80 victims in post-Soviet Russia. And they were in the Union!

And there were domestic rapes of children. But there was no intolerant reaction to them from society. First, there were no media resources for publicizing the crimes. Secondly, they were hushed up - the rule about taking rubbish out of the hut in the Union was observed much more strictly than now. Third, society was more tolerant of pedophilia and nymphetomania.

I make such a provocative statement responsibly. Harassing schoolgirls on the street, slapping on the bottom, flirting - all this was no longer the norm, but was considered tolerable until the 2000s. Soviet society as a whole was more tolerant of crimes against children than it is today. The Criminal Code of the RSFSR in Art. 119-129 indicated that sexual intercourse with a person who had not reached puberty, as well as depraved acts with minors, were punishable by imprisonment for up to three years. Very often, for sex with minors, they were sentenced only to "chemistry", a colony-settlement. I know a man who served two years of "chemistry" for cohabitation with a minor - he was sent from Surgut to Tyumen, where he worked at a sheepskin and fur factory and could go to the city. On this "chemistry" he found himself another schoolgirl girlfriend.

The country was not safe for a child. Rather, it was more dangerous than today, because the child spent much more time alone or with friends.

Several generations of Soviet people grew up without trusting relationships, love and hugs.

Only an aberration of memory makes people who went through their Soviet childhood with a key around their necks regret their past and sincerely wish their own children the same fate.

Here is the text I got. Unfortunately, I don’t know the author (the source is indicated, but apparently not the author), but he wrote about his life. Yes, splint, but only bright memories, but there was something else. But in fact, everything is already dirty, vulgar and disgusting. And after reading the memories of the childhood of this person, I thought, I also remember only light. Perhaps it was so, perhaps this is a property of human memory. Does not matter. The main warmth in the soul became after that. :-)

This is the song of the Soviet Empire of the USSR, my Motherland, great, powerful, loving, paternally harsh, the best country in the world.

I was born in 1959, when the nuclear age had already begun and the first satellites were launched. Our family occupied a twenty-meter room in a large five-story building made of light brick. The neighbor was the kindest old woman Agafya Leontievna, who survived the blockade. She became very attached to me, and I easily went into her clean little room to listen to fairy tales. On the wall in a lace pocket hung a medal for the defense of Leningrad. Her pension was small, 27 rubles. Translated into the current crafty money, maybe ten thousand. But she always had the Swallow candy in reserve for me.

The doors of the entrances of our house were glazed, flowers and lilac bushes grew on the lawns, and the street cleaner Aunt Tina watered the asphalt every morning with a hose. We were friends with her and she always allowed me to help clean the snow or sweep.

The world was big, joyful and mysterious. Not even 20 years have passed since the war, and its closeness was felt. Young people went to the Victory Day, all in awards, cheerful veterans. Children were constantly playing at war. We crawled across the lawns with sticks that replaced guns, hid in the bushes, tracking down the Fritz, learning to draw stars and fascist signs. Near the house stood a dead charred tree, and a little further away, in a wasteland, the settled ruins of the house, which we hollowed out to corn blisters with iron rods from old beds, wanting to break into the basement. The ruins disappeared after several subbotniks.

Adult residents from neighboring houses and, of course, children came out for subbotniks. We really wanted to find a shell or a mine. It wasn't a joke. On the outskirts, in garden ditches, rusty shells from large-caliber shells were still lying around. Mortar charges were also encountered there, which, because of the tail stabilizers, were called flyers. The guys who went to the area of the anti-tank ditch to "trophy" often remained crippled.

There were a lot of children in the yard, and we constantly played something: tags, 12 sticks, hali halo, corks. The girls had their games. For example, they arranged "secrets". It was done like this: a hole was dug in the ground and a flower or a beautiful candy wrapper was placed in it, which was covered with a piece of glass and covered with earth, and then this place was carefully cleared, and a “secret” appeared from under the ground. Well, and, of course, jump ropes, hopscotch, dolls.

It was a great joy when the dump truck brought sand. This usually happened once every two weeks. We pounced on the heap with our cars. They dug holes, laid roads, built houses. Mom shouted from the window: "Sasha, eat." Where is there ... I did not hear and buzzed in the sand turning the truck around until my brother came down after me.

In winter, the fun was different. A hill was set up and filled in a wasteland. A little later, a hockey rink appeared. Swings, carousels, ropes and gymnastic beams were in every yard. In addition, in our house there was a sports school.

The parents were constantly working. Father is at sea, and mother is in the atelier. The key to the apartment was left under the rug on the landing, and then they began to put it in the mailbox.

Nobody heard about robberies, murders, kidnappings of children. Then we did not know what could be different. We were in our own country and completely safe.

Never has a dirty word been uttered by anyone in front of children or women.

It's hard to believe now, but I heard swear words for the first time only at the age of seven. It was already in Kamchatka. I came home and told my mother about the grown-up guys who were saying a lot of new “interesting words”. Mom said that it was swearing and that if I spoke like that, she would die. The next day, I reached under the bed for a slipper and, to my horror, swore. It was winter, my mother worked in a sewing shop, far on the outskirts, and schoolchildren were taken to that side on an all-terrain vehicle. But I ran to her so that she wouldn't die.

There, in Kamchatka, I saw a drunk for the first time. It was in Petropavlovsk. Before that, we went to the cinema, and there the main character in a white shirt, staggering from numerous wounds, fiercely fired back from the bandits.

And then my mother and I saw a man in a white shirt swaying at the bus stop. I thought he was a wounded scout, but my mother said he was drunk. I remember I didn't believe it then.

We got to Kamchatka because of my father's business trip. At first he left, and then we: mom, brother and me. We flew to Khabarovsk on the latest and best Tu-104 aircraft in the world at that time.

I don't remember how long the flight lasted. My brother and I played chess, ate, fell asleep, woke up, played again, but now with words. Then they made their way through the storm front. Finally, the pilot looked out of the passage ahead and, lo and behold! - He called my brother and me to his cabin. The cabin was made of glass and was full of light. We moved among huge clouds that look flat from the ground. In the intervals between them beat a dazzling sun. The pilot slightly touched the steering wheel, and the plane entered the cloud. We were surrounded by solid white nothingness. Space and time vanished, leaving only the hum of the engines. And suddenly - again the sun and the infinite purity of the sky.

We returned to our seats amazed and were silent for a long time.

Why did the pilot do it? Just. From love and tenderness to childhood. I made it as if for myself, enjoying the delight of the guys.

Now in the news reports we no longer see, as in Soviet times, reports of scientific discoveries or the commissioning of rolling mills, nuclear icebreakers, and power plants. Incidents are being written more and more: a consignment of drugs was detained, a fire in a nursing home, gas explosions and - violence, violence, violence ... Oh, how low we have fallen during these years of spreading the word! Citizens of "young Russia" with the complete indifference of the state authorities strangle each other, blow up, poison and keep in the basements of their dachas in specially equipped dungeons. Cannibals receive 6 years in prison for crimes that cry to heaven. Bribe-takers pay off the stolen.

And then in society, natural, like air, unnoticed by anyone, familiar, kindness was poured. Often, adults addressed the child as “son” or “daughter”, and adolescents addressed the older one as “father”. Finally, to each other - "comrade". The sincere and endearing address "comrade" was widespread. It contained neither irony nor foreign malice.

At that time, I still many, many times came across the paternal and maternal love of strangers.

In Khabarovsk, we spent the night in a room for mother and child. In the same place, my mother bought me and my brother each a TU-104 badge. Here it is, this rectangular piece of metal: in the sky of cosmic dark blue, a golden airplane flies over the mountains.

Children's brightness of sensations is incomparable with anything. Usually, with age, it is lost and can only return after repentance, which scrapes off a touch of callousness and lies from the soul. And I am glad that it was then, in my childhood, that I saw my huge country from the height of the sky with clear eyes, encountered many kind people and found myself on the very edge of the earth near the Pacific Ocean.

We made the last part of the journey through the Seas of Japan and the Sea of Okhotsk with access to the Pacific Ocean on the excellent passenger ship Petropavlovsk, which took us to a lost fishing village.

Recently, returning from Valaam, I got into a conversation with the Kamchatka priest.

- And does Petropavlovsk go now? - No.

- And "Nikolaevsk?" - No.

- And the "Soviet Union?" - No. There was such a ship, but now there is nothing.

"There was such a ship" ... A floating city, a colossus of 23 thousand registered tons with six decks, three restaurants and a pool in which I learned to swim.

There is no "Soviet Union". A lump came up in my throat, I could not speak. The strongest November wind pierced to the bone, "Saint Nikolai" broke open a thick, palm-sized ice crust, Ladoga was covered with fog, and it seemed to me that I was standing on the deck of the "Soviet Union". Behind the stern, a wide strip of water, seething from two propellers, goes into the distance. The ocean wave rolls slowly, and the ship rises smoothly, and then, as if reluctantly, falls. Huge yellow jellyfish sway near the surface and are carried away at a speed of 19 knots. Everything passes…

"Soviet Union" - a ship with history. During the war years, it belonged to the German Reich and was called "Hanse". Hitler's personal enemy, the commander of the S-13 Marinesko, preparing the "attack of the century", saw him through the periscope, but chose Wilhelm Gustlov. In 1945, during the evacuation of the Germans from East Prussia, Hansa hit a mine and sank at a depth of 20 meters, 9 miles from the coast. The ship was raised, repaired and handed over to us under an agreement on the division of the fleet.

“In order to have a firm foot at the sea,” the Generalissimo sent him and several other passenger ships to the Far East. The region was rapidly developing, being mastered, and it needed its own passenger fleet.

Large-capacity ships of the Petropavlovsk class could not come close to the Kamchatka coast and stopped in the roadstead, and passengers were brought ashore by small vessels - barges and fishing boats, which were called "bugs".

I remember our arrival on the peninsula. About 50 meters away from us, a lot of black heads are bobbing on the water - these are seals. A plow is moored at the side of the ship. He, waddling in the waves, then rises 4-5 meters up, then falls sharply down. The boom of a ship's crane holds a net with luggage over it. Passengers have to go down a rather unreliable, shaking ladder. Scary. The already disturbing picture of the landing is complemented by a huge chest that escaped from the supervision of the sailors, which, due to the pitching, very quickly crawls along the deck, sometimes standing up on the lower edge and looking into the sea. Yes, this is our chest, given to us by neighbors for carrying luggage! By what miracle he caught up and overtook us - it is not clear. But now, with all the belongings contained in it, he could flop into the water. "Box!" Mom screamed over the sound of waves and wind. It sounded like a "man overboard" emergency command, and the chest was saved. Everything ended well.

After loading the luggage, the passengers disembarked onto the flounder rushing about in the waves. The strong hands of the sailors accepted us, and soon the barge was heading for the shore. What was ahead of us?

It turned out, however, that the empire was able to reproduce its universal structure in this, so remote, place. So, having moved 9 thousand kilometers, we did not notice big differences in the structure of life. Everything you need was: work, kindergarten, schools, hospital, cinema, local radio. And, most importantly, each of us joined some kind of team. Dad said that people here are simpler and better. With some disdain in the village, only seasonal workers were treated - workers who came "to make money."

Money in Kamchatka was not exactly despised, but somehow remained on the sidelines. In general, money often loses its meaning when people are required to display the highest qualities - love, self-sacrifice, and, conversely, gain strength when the best in people is weakened or completely trampled.

But the fishermen earned, however, well. And there wasn't much to spend. Life fully corresponded to the natural features of the Land and did not require significant changes. Natural can be called for those places an abundance of fish, which in different forms, it seems, was not bought, but simply was for everyone. Also crabs and caviar.

The relatively limited selection of goods led to ridiculous things. For example, in the bath, instead of beer, they sold champagne on tap. Or here's another - one day they brought in an outlandish thing, a book lottery, and the entire batch of tickets instantly sold out. I myself saw how in the sewing shop, at my mother's work, enthusiastic women tore one lottery envelope after another and threw them into a huge pile under their feet. The peculiarity of the trade also lay in the fact that the inhabitants bought everything in boxes, whether it was Korean thick-skinned apples or oranges.

Sometimes the motor ships "Petropavlovsk" or "Nikolaevsk" approached the coast, and it was possible at some hour from a remote village to get into a real floating comfortable city. And everything was already on sale.

And what education was on the outskirts of the USSR? Yes, exactly the same as in Leningrad! The same textbooks, the same counting sticks, notebooks, pencil cases, as in the whole country.

There were two schools in the small Kamchatka village of Oktyabrsky. One is for children from first to fourth grade, and the other is for children from fifth to tenth. The school for older children was two-story, made of stone. It was located on the outskirts of the village, and children were taken to it in the winter on an all-terrain vehicle. Of course, it's free. The students sang along the way. It's just a dash. But what!

Our elementary school was a spacious hut with four classrooms and a large central common room. Each class was heated by a separate stove. We were taught by a young teacher, Inessa Arsenievna Zarubina. Her son, an excellent student, also studied in the class. In addition to Russian children, several Koreans studied. There was no division into friends and foes. I remember that I was surprised only by the very short name of one boy - Lee.

In the morning, before classes, everyone did their exercises, and for lunch they went to a nearby canteen.

The first month of study I "fell ill" In general, it was some kind of simulation. I read a sad little book about a dog. It ended with these words: "And then her nose began to crumble and she died." Soon I “felt” that it was somehow difficult for me to breathe and told my mother about it. She took me to the doctor, who listened to all the complaints, smiled aside at the symptom of “crumbling nose” that I had especially singled out, and said that I could probably lie down in the hospital for a week to be examined. After the hospital, the doctor prescribed an amazing medicine. He told me to buy a chocolate bar every day for 33 kopecks, which my mother carefully and performed until the New Year.

In the second or third month of our studies, we were admitted to the Oktyabryata and given a beautiful red star. It was a joyful day.

“You must be good guys,” said Inessa Arsenyevna. - You must help the elders, not leave each other in trouble and greet everyone.

Adults talked about help and mutual assistance from the cradle. But the fact that after the reception in the Oktyabryata it was necessary to greet everyone was news.

After the lessons we went for a walk around the village. Thick, sticky snow fell. The mischievous thought occurred to me not to shake it off, and very quickly the snow settled tightly on my earflaps, shoulders and chest. And from this white cocoon I sang along with my friends: “Fly up the bonfires, blue nights!”. Passers-by came across the meeting, and we all, without exception, said “Hello!”. And everyone smiled and greeted us in response: "Hello!". Something good happened to us then. Probably, the reception in the October Revolution by children's souls was perceived as an initiation into the Good.

Now, remembering those years and that my attitude to life and people, I begin to penetrate deeper into the words of Christ, “unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”

November 7, 1967 in the village of Oktyabrsky, Ust-Bolsheretsky district, the Day of the Revolution was celebrated. For the holiday, parents, as always, gave me and my brother a ruble each. A ruble could buy ice cream, a few balloons, a badge, and watch a movie. But then we went to the cinema three times in a row. The first film was based on the Russian fairy tale "Marya the Artisan".

Now I understand that this is a kind of film masterpiece. He talked about the Thirteenth Vodokrut, who dragged the skilled Marya into his underwater kingdom, bewitched her, and she ceased to distinguish will from bondage. “That will, that bondage is all the same,” said Marya - Russia.

But Marya was saved by a soldier with a drum, who descended into the realm of evil. The drum was magical, and when a soldier beat it, the echo of other drums was heard in response: “Russian help Russian!”. The greedy Whistler was afraid not so much of the soldier as of this help. At first, he unsuccessfully tried to buy a drum, then steal it. And when this failed, he wanted to push the soldier into a boiling lake. But, in the end, only a wet place remained of Waterspin himself, and his green, Martian-like servant and spy Kwak turned into a frog.

This movie would be impossible to make now. Well, it is clear that they would not have given money for it, the actors would not have been found. But, most importantly, he is a ruff for the current government.

How strong, how rich is the Russian army soldier? He is strong in his truth, rich in faithful friendship.

What is “strong with truth” if money is the measure of all things, and in relationships one should be guided not by friendship, but by a “pragmatic” approach?

Or here is another dialogue:

Soldier: I, your swamp majesty, a Russian soldier, I can’t live in peace if the children are sad, and the mothers are languishing in captivity.

Vodokrut: What a restless people you are, it’s not for nothing that I love you all to drown!

No, it is impossible to imagine that something like this would have been staged and let through in free capitalist Russia.

Here is what Minister of Education Fursenko says, who, like Shakespeare's witches from Lady Macbeth, says evil is good, good is evil:

"The shortcoming of the Soviet education system was an attempt to form a human creator." “The task of the school is to grow a competent consumer.”

So, for the current state, the ideal citizen is a "literate consumer" or, in other words, a picky pig. And such a creature is brought up by advertising, and not by a reminder of the truth and a clear conscience.

I don't remember the second movie. And the third was about Malchish-Kibalchish.

The theme of self-sacrifice and betrayal. How close all this is to the Gospel!

The traitor Malchish-Plokhish blew up our warehouses and got a barrel of jam and a box of cookies for it. The bourgeois have seized Kibalchish and are trying to get him to betray him - they are torturing him, they want him to betray the Military Secret. But ours have already driven them away. Kibalchish died a glorious death for the Motherland - this is the Russian "happy end".

There is also a wonderful cartoon based on the same tale. There, the hands of the captive Malchish are stretched with heavy chains. He seems to be crucified.

Recently, the last scenes of this Gaidar's tale came to life in an unexpected way.

TV showed how the bourgeoisie honored Mikhail Gorbachev. A worn-out Western porn star was leading him by the arm, journalists were chatting with cameras, lazily clapping the hero with naphthalene rock dead, a goat-voiced television chef Makarevich was huddled to the side.

The new homeland, not sparing pieces of silver, fed Gorby with jam - he deserved it ...

As the sprout of a tree is contained in the thickness of the trunk, so childhood is preserved in a person. How much more was given by God through my Motherland that I did not even mention? You can’t count everything - these are fabulous Ukrainian huts, and a cart with sweet peas, on which I lay, throwing the reins, and the smart horse itself pulled where it was needed, and the hard hot earth-tyrlo, and muddy warm stakes, and the apiary, and huge pieces white peasant bread, and unimaginable depth of the starry sky, and a kindergarten, and fish oil, and fairy tales, and filmstrips, and a hemming stitch, and the Crimea, and the Sea of Azov, and the Gulf of Finland, and Vuoksa.

Yes, we had our own happiness, our own freedom. Twelve thousand kilometers of freedom and peace from West to East. And so we didn't need "abroad". We already had all inclusive here.

A state can be characterized by how it treats its weak members. Modern capitalist Russia is a country for the strong, the rich, the healthy. She does not forgive any mistakes. If a person slips and begins to drink, he will be helped to turn into an alcoholic. Then they will help in the sale of the apartment, and he will die. If, out of gullibility, he took a loan and cannot pay it off, he will be left without housing, mentally upset and die. If he lost his job, then he will not be able to retrain, because this requires money, and they were not there before. If he becomes impoverished and there is nothing to feed his children, he will be tortured with threats to take them away. If you have accumulated, they will steal it, fool it, pull it out through inflation. If he falls ill, they would rather finish him off with fake medicines and exterminating medicine than cure him.

And people do not have time to sit out, take a break, lay low, come back to normal. Every month, healthy, sick, unemployed, half-crazy from this hot life, people receive a utility bill, which is often more than an allowance or pension: “Pay or get out! Pay! Free cheese only happens in a mousetrap!”

They speak harshly to the people: “Leaving a school (hospital) here is not economically profitable. Monotowns should be reoriented. Gasoline is already cheaper here than in America! You pay only 80% of the cost of utilities! The mines must be closed, no one needs coal! Foreign labor is needed!”

But it wasn't like that...

The mighty Soviet empire built wonderful ships and planes, made brilliant films, took care of everyone, but, above all, its little citizens. "All the best for the kids!" is not just a slogan, but a state strategy. The Union taught them and tried to educate them as fighters and workers.

Has that time gone forever? Is it possible that Marya the artisan will remain a prisoner of the Thirteenth Vodokrut?

I do not think. Painfully disgusting and greedy, this corrupt homosexual gentleman with his banking, shopping, burry pronunciation and oblique half-smiles, with juvenile justice, drugs and child trafficking. He is not a match for her. If Vodokrut does not run away to the West, then a wet place will remain from him here.

I wrote these lines as a testimony, and following the Apostle I can repeat that what is stated here is “what we heard, what we saw with our eyes, what we examined and what our hands touched.”