First of All - It's Beautiful!. Anekdot Thinking as An Immune Response of Reason

“First of All — It’s Beautiful!”

Anekdot Thinking as An Immune Response of Reason

The Russian anekdot is not simply a joke. It is a unique genre of oral folk art that emerged as an alternative to propaganda under conditions of total ideological control of culture in the USSR. The anekdot was the only space where reason retained its freedom — and it successfully overturned every attempt by ideology to replace human thinking.

But the anekdot did not limit itself to fighting totalitarianism. It works against all manifestations of lies and stupidity — and continues to work today, when old and new forms of propaganda colonize social media and public discourse.

The anekdot never strikes at the person — it strikes at the behavior, unerringly pointing out its incompatibility with human dignity. It picks up and continues a tradition that in other cultures seems to have paused in the times of Socrates and Nasreddin.

This book offers the anekdot to the world — both as a vast corpus of existing masterpieces and as a technology to which

every person who has not renounced belonging to the species Homo sapiens holds the patent.

The chapter presented below as a sample gives a sense of the book and its approach.

Anekdot Thinking

By the word anekdot (as distinct from the common English word anecdote) I mean a unique genre of oral folk art that emerged as an alternative to propaganda culture in the "country of victorious socialism"—the USSR.

The anekdot successfully overturned ideology's every attempt to replace human reason. In conditions of total cultural subordination to ideology—when literature, cinema, theater, even children's books served the state's ideological goals—the uncensored anekdot remained the only space for genuine culture.

Two friends walk past the main KGB building in Moscow. A forbidding sign hangs on its doors: "Entry strictly forbidden to unauthorized persons!" The friends exchange glances, and one asks the other: "But if it were allowed, would you go in?"

Two friends encounter yet another manifestation of Soviet reality and test each other's mental health—their capacity to remain rational, and their sense of humor, which is an inseparable part of being rational. And everyone who later retells and hears this anekdot experiences its refreshing power.

The threat to reason from ideology has not disappeared from the modern world. Old and new forms of propaganda colonize social media and public discourse, quickly turning into direct repression. Above all, lies and violence target

reasonable and responsible speech—if they succeed in suppressing it, any crime becomes unpunishable.

The anekdot works brilliantly not only against totalitarian ideology. It works against all manifestations of lies and stupidity.

For example, a significant part of humanity is regularly seized by "simple solutions" to all problems. "Magic pills" are not only offered but often simply forced down people's throats.

The management decided to rearrange all the desks in the office, hoping to increase productivity. Rabinovich (Jewish wit archetype) commented: "When my grandmother ran a brothel and business was down, she didn't move the beds—she changed the girls."

And when another pill fails to work, its adherents find even more stupid ways to deflect responsibility from themselves.

A high-ranking military officer finds himself in his apartment, on the couch, in dress uniform, with the full set of sensations from an alcohol overdose—and with an enormous vomit stain on his chest. He calls for his staff, but at the same time feverishly tries to figure out how not to look like someone who can neither drink nor control himself.

By the time his adjutant appears in the doorway, the general has developed a brilliant version. The general begins to explain:

"How undisciplined junior officers have become these days! Yesterday I was sitting at a table, and some young officer, so drunk he couldn't stand on his feet, literally fell on me and—vomited all over my dress uniform."

The adjutant nods understandingly and amicably: "That's not all—that officer also shit in your pants."

* * *

The anekdot deserves global distribution. Both as a vast corpus of already-known masterpieces and as a technology—one to which any person who has not renounced belonging to the species Homo sapiens holds the patent.

This is a living genre that successfully survived the Soviet Union and continues to work even in conditions of regime change and movement toward democracy—but the anekdot remains true to itself and defeats stupidity and insincerity wherever it finds them.

The transition from the USSR to post-Soviet reality received brilliant coverage in numerous anekdots. And these anekdots were impeccable examples of depth, sensitivity, and humanism. These anekdots are true for all countries and times where something similar occurs.

But the anekdot never targets the person—it always strikes unerringly not at the person but at the behavior, pointing out that such behavior is incompatible with human dignity. The anekdot always sees all participants in a situation and distributes assessments not only to obvious "villains" but equally frankly shows those who successfully hide behind the position of victim.

Former USSR. The 1990s. An entrepreneur—not a "new Russian," just a clever and honest man—manages to build a business. He works hard, balances between gangsters and the state, and generally does all right.

One day he runs into an old classmate on the street. The man looks poor, sad, worn down. They start talking about life.

The classmate says, "The old days are gone, and I can't come up with anything new. No money, the family's hungry."

The entrepreneur says, "All right, we went to school together. I'll help you. Come work for me—you'll get back on your feet."

Next morning, the classmate comes to his office. The entrepreneur takes out a suitcase and says, "The job's simple. I need to withdraw cash from the bank every day. See that bank across the street? You go there, give them my name, they'll put the money in this suitcase. You bring it back—we split it fifty-fifty. That's it."

The classmate agrees. He comes every day, does his job, brings the case, they split the money. His life improves—new clothes, color back in his face, a smile again.

A month or two goes by. Then one day the entrepreneur notices his friend's face looks gloomy, resentful.

He asks, "What's wrong, my friend? Did I do something?"

The classmate sighs: "I've been thinking… it's kind of unfair between us. We split the money fifty-fifty—but I'm the one who has to go to the bank."

* * *

The anekdot is not limited to reacting to momentary events. On the contrary, the anekdot tries and knows how to illuminate something universal in any trifle.

A Russian oligarch is fishing in the Mediterranean—just off Nice, on his luxury yacht. He's got every piece of gear imaginable—rods, spinners, lures, lines—all top of the line, gold or gold-plated. But—nothing bites. Not a single fish. Not even a nibble. A hundred meters away, there's a small, shabby boat. Two scruffy fishermen are basically using a stick and a string—and still, they're pulling out one big fish after another. The boat's almost full. The oligarch watches them, turns to his gorgeous girlfriend and says: "See? Life is just so unfair. Why do some people get everything—and others, nothing at all?"

At one moment the oligarch almost discovers for himself what may correspond to his essence far more than billions and a yacht—to be a successful fisherman.

The anekdot provides an excellent perspective for thinking about what "everything" and "nothing" mean, but one far from flat moralizing about money and happiness—the perspective is broader, showing the diversity of life's paths. And the oligarch here is simply an image of a person standing before this unknown.

Anyone can recognize themselves in this oligarch—if at some point they became carried away by a goal not quite their own.

If this were only about oligarchs and not about almost everyone, it would be neither interesting nor funny. It would be a story about a single fact from a single person's life. But the anekdot is always about everyone or many.

The anekdot picks up and continues that tradition which in other cultures seems to have paused in the times of Socrates and Nasreddin.

A Gypsy stopped feeding his horse, explaining that he wanted to teach it to live without food. After a few days, the horse died. "Too bad," he said. "It was just starting to get it."

Russian and Soviet anekdots begin where all other folk philosophers end. Nasreddin and Eulenspiegel were normal people in an abnormal world—but they're long gone. Only in Russian does this kind of wisdom still breathe: new heroes are born, each carrying a different instrument of truth.

The anekdot created a whole constellation of such heroes. For example, the archetype of the child who speaks the truth simply because the very act of lying is unknown to him became incarnate in the anekdot in the person of Vovochka (a diminutive of "Vladimir")—a boy somewhere between the ages of five and fifteen. Vovochka doesn't merely blurt out the truth where everyone else stays silent. What makes Vovochka interesting is also how he speaks it—in what language. And what original conclusions he draws from it.

A biology class. The teacher places three glasses on the desk: one with vodka, one with a nicotine solution, one with a fresh raw egg.

From a small box, he produces a worm. The class watches.

The teacher places the worm in the glass of vodka. The worm writhes and squirms—clearly suffering.

Then—into the nicotine solution. Same effect: the worm is in distress, the environment hostile.

Finally, the teacher places the worm in the glass with the egg. The worm comes alive—swimming, eating, practically smiling.

The teacher nods with satisfaction and asks: "Well, children—what conclusion can we draw?"

Vovochka, from the back row: "If you don't drink and don't smoke, you'll get worms in your eggs."

* * *

The anekdot limits itself to nothing—neither setting, nor plot, nor characters. It uses everything and creates much.