Apologies if I scared anyone after my last post, but paranoia has become a part of my life since I had watched the September 11th on the tv in a local gym in Amsterdam, while living in that beautiful city.
I was quite surprised that classes in the gym continued despite witnessing the end of the world and on autopilot I joined my class in step-aerobics to run out of the room, the gym and vomit on the street five minutes after the start of the class. I thought that everything was finished, everything in this earth and I don’t remember how I managed to fall asleep that night and even drag myself to my place of work at MoneyCare the next day, to see whether anyone else was able to continue living.
To my greatest surprise most of my colleagues and my boss showed up at our job, albeit everyone looked shattered, sad and disillusioned.
My boss was running in panic from one corner of the room to the next, trying to keep us somehow optimistic. His eyes were red from obvious crying, and he kept on saying that we had to keep going. Salaries needed to be paid, pension funds needed our advice and he even managed to crack some kind of a joke by saying to us:
“Can you imagine? For some people it’s an opportunity to make money!”
MoneyCare in this respect was almost a non-profit organisation. We all were paid more or less the same salary and our working system was transparent and based in strong ethical values. Each client had the same access to the system and the format of writing news analyses was clear and to the point. I was the inventor of the new writing system, btw.
We could only talk about September 11th on that day. We had an American colleague working with us and we were glued to the news.
Still it was the day when I put a Belgian bank, called Dexia on big plus in our cluster of analysts of banks and wrote a smashing uplifting report about the bank, because the bank was Belgian (and I loved Belgium), it was in the European Union that I admired for the initial principle of its creation, and the bank was supported by the Belgian state. Having grown up in the Soviet Russia I knew with certainty one thing: the State has to control the basics, such as natural resources, infrastructure, medical system, internet and banks, to avoid such catastrophic occurrences, as the collapse of the Soviet Union, Invasion of Iraq, September 11th and now, Brexit.
But I probably bored you to death with finances and will switch to something more uplifting in my next post.
It was in 2003 that I ended up in my first psychiatric hospital, driven there by my former boss and a colleague while I worked as a financial analyst of banks and portfolio manager at FDA (Financiële Diensten Amsterdam, same name as the American agency that approved all medication in the United States of America) in the beautiful city of Amsterdam. it was while working at the company that I saw September 11 on TV in the local gym, and the next day witnessed the frantic work back at my job. Apparently it was a good moment to make some money and in total disbelief I watched my company to create portfolios of actions. It was weird for me as I just wanted to die because for me it was a moment that the world has surely come to an end.
how was it possible I would ask myself and with this enormous question on my mind I addressed God and marched into my new psychotic reality-the only way to survive when you deal with bad witchcraft on a global scale.
In the summer of 1976, which proved to be uncharacteristically hot, Moscow stood still in its stability and relative quietness. Later, under the reign of Gorbatchev, this period would become known as the ‘’era of stagnation’’ but if you looked at people living in 1976, you certainly wouldn’t notice that something was terribly amiss. The shops, while with impressive queues outside, had most needed groceries, festive tables were full of food and vodka, and everyone had the right to free education, medical care, and nice pension. People were nicely dressed, modestly but with style, with men wearing suits and women walking about in pretty colourful dresses. Trousers and let alone, jeans, were not yet on the radar of women’s fashion, and so they would differentiate themselves through colours. If one looks at the pictures of Moscow in the summer 1976, one can see lots of pink, green and red variations among female dresses. The winter fashion was, however, awful, due to a lack of choices, but let’s stay for a moment in summer 1976, and stroll to the region of Jugo-Zapadnaya, translated with some difficulty as ‘’South-West’’, even if it didn’t incorporate the geographical area per se (although it was definitely situated at the south-west of Moscow) but was one of the most-sought after region located around an underground station of the same name. It was known as one of the dormitory areas, due to its architecture, with new buildings of sixteen floors that became popular at that time. The apartments were more spacious than tiny, grotesque constructions built under the earlier area of Krutchev, and their raison d’etre was a better thought enterprise than the buildings which had seen the light in the years fifties, resulting in weird spaces and suffocated corridors. The typical buildings of this awful construction had usually three bedrooms, but one of the bedrooms was, as a rule, at the end of the living room, hardly even separated from it, and those who slept there, had to wait for the whole household to be ready to sleep. The rooms were also small, and often didn’t make any sense.
However, in the sixties, there came a new wave of constructions that aimed at some modernization and a more careful consideration for people who would eventually end up living there, and huge buildings spread across sixteen floors started to see the light, mostly at the uptown area of Moscow. The underground station Jugo-Zapandaya was created in 1963, and shortly after, shiny but quite ugly blocks of the apartments followed. If one notices them now, while visiting Moscow, one might become shocked by the absence of any consideration for beauty: the building are truly ugly, but as a result, quite impressive in their simple dare to exist. They stand the matter of time, and are quite still popular among middle class, among all those who can’t afford any new apartments, but still want to live in the proximity of a more or less comfortable life. Not that the newly built buildings are any better. The perimeter of Moscow once outside of the centre, represents an absolutely awful sight nowadays, a true fruit of the new capitalistic ideology, where new constructions of stores much higher than sixteen, are spread all around, without any well-though plan behind.
The Jugo-Zapadnaya region soon became extremely fashionable among the citizens of Moscow, and was renown as one of the best areas to live. It takes forty minutes sharp to arrive to the closest underground station in the centre of Moscow, called ‘Park Kyltyri’, which is relatively nothing for the size of Moscow as a whole. If you live in Moscow, a drive of two hours each day to work and back, is the cumbersome reality that most Moscovites experience. It is huge, it is difficult to understand, and one has to be born there in order to enjoy a relatively nice life.
Jugo-Zapadnaya also had all nice facilities. Several universities were situated in its proximity, it had more green spaces than the rest of the city, shops were built around, and if one had a ‘dacha’, some sort of residential house, when it was also strategically located next to the highway. But the most prominent future of Jugo-Zapadnaya was that it had the illusion of space in the otherwise quite busy and suffocated city, and one could enjoy relative quietness and a feeling of rest if living there.
Several sixteen-floor buildings were built twenty minutes away by bus, and it soon became an area on its own, called 9-y micro district of Teplii Stan, translated as the region number 9 of Warm Camp, attached, however, officially to the bigger area of Jugo-Zapadnaya, because of the nearest underground station. This small area became a little gem of the Jugo-Zapadnaya perimeter, where Moscovites tried to get an apartment. Despite the ugliness of the sixteen-store buildings, the apartments were relatively spacious in comparison to what else was available, and the whole little area contained everything one needed for a good life. Several schools opened their doors, big grocery shop was created, and a park, known as ‘area of rest’ got built around a lake. Those who lived in the district, and it was especially popular among families, would stroll to the ‘area of rest’ at weekends. One could hire a boat to sail on the lake, and children could even swim in designated spots. All in all it was comfy and nice, a sort of a small village (albeit with tall buildings) in the middle of Moscow.
Both ‘Taxi-Blues’ and ‘The Island’ movies (refer to my post on holy-foolishness here, here, here, and here) acquire an additional meaning when one learns about the life of the main actor who played Lyosha and Anatoly, as one can rightly argue that in both movies the actor played himself.
As the character of the movies, Pyotr Mamonov had and has an unusual life, marked by extravagancy, creativity, unusual and weird behaviour, and a deep spiritual search for meaning and for Christian faith.
He was born in Moscow in 1951, and was expelled twice from a secondary school because he was constantly organising ‘a circus’. He loved dancing, music, and was showing quite remarkable talent in the way he danced. He came across some Western music, including the Beatles, and it marked him profoundly, pushing him to explore different musical genres and performance. While being considered a hippy, he used to distance himself from the group and would often find himself in a conflict or even a fight. In one of such fights he was very badly wounded by a knife, and almost died, but was saved by the doctors and recovered after spending days in a coma.
His behaviour was exuberant and bizarre, he could sometimes walk around with a handle from the toilette seat, or pretend that he would run at full speed and collude with a wall, just to lie down and watch people assembling around him.
His professional path was also very unusual, where in a matter of ten years he changed numerous jobs, and attended a university but without finishing it. He worked as a typist, as a corrector in a journal ‘Pioner’, as a massage therapist, elevator operator, moving man, as well as a translator of poetry from English, Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish languages. He experienced moments of desperation and loneliness, when he would be without any job or any money. During sad periods of his life, he would write his own poetry, and would later use it for his songs.
In the 1983 Pyotr launched his music group, called ‘Zvuki Mu’, which immediately attracted controversy due to unusual, and often absurd lyrics, playfulness, and quite dramatic presence on the stage by Pyotr. He would dance, make weird gestures, exhibit eccentric, artistic behaviour. The fact that many of his songs seemed to reflect the absurdity of that times, the total chaos at the political and economic levels, only attracted more attention to the group. For instance, in his song and video clip ‘Coyz pechat’, Mamonov clearly makes fun of the political uncertainty then, but in a subtle, provocative way. He tells us about going to ‘Kiosk’, which could refer to both a small shop selling newspapers, but also to small shops which started to appear at that time, reflecting the ideological switch from socialism to capitalism, selling everything from Mars chocolate bars to cigarettes and spirits. He sings with a background of Saint Vasilii The Blessed Cathedral, as a sign of trying to find new meaning among instability and uncertainty of the years which preceded the collapse of the Soviet Union and immediately after. Interestingly enough, Mamonov, by positioning himself in the background of the most notorious Russian Orthodox Cathedral dedicated to the most famous Russian Holy Fool, foresaw how he would be perceived later in his life, where he is often referred to in Russia as a ‘holy fool’ (Ruvinsky, 2011).
In 1988 Mamonov made his first appearance in movies by playing a drug lord in ‘The Needle’ (Igla), which became a cult Soviet film. In 1990 he played Lyosha, the saxophonist in Taxi-Blues, where some parallels can be drawn with Mamonov’s real life. It was a turbulent period for former Soviet Union and its people, and ordinary people struggled to find meaning in the chaos of that time. As Mamonov, his character is unpredictable, slightly ‘mad’, talented, artistic and eccentric.
Following the dismantling of his music band, Mamonov had a long period of depression, which he managed to overcome by turning to Christianity and by finding an absolute faith in Jesus. He moved with his wife to a remote village in Moscow region, where he would spend his days on farming and praying, making only very rare appearance at public. He had to be convinced several times to appear as Anatoly in ‘The Island’, where, as it is commonly agreed, he played himself.
Whether we can call Pyotr Mamonov a ‘Holy Fool’ is, of course, embedded in the current discourse on madness and at how we look at eccentricity. Many Russian Orthodox sites themselves refer to him as a true representative of Russian holy-foolishness. Mamonov is a devoted Christian, who had a highly unusual life. As holy-fools in the past, he also battled with madness, having spent some time in a psychiatric hospital, due to his problems with alcohol. He had periods of deprivation, and sadness, and where, ultimately he turned to Christian faith to find his own personal meaning in life.
Mamonov, when he makes his rare public appearances, remains a controversial figure. When he talks about faith, he often uses the same lyrical language he used in his songs. When he received the Russia’s award for best actor following his role as Anatoly, the Christian hermit in ‘The Island’, he came to the ceremony dressed in jeans, an odd cardigan, and sneakers, and proceeded to tell the public that it failed to address real problems in Russia:
“Do you expect Putin to solve these problems? Putin is a wimp, an intelligence officer, what can he do? We should do it ourselves.” (Ruvinsky, 2011).
Understanding Mamonov as a modern holy fool requires understanding of the Russian culture, and its long tradition of the unique phenomenon of holy-foolishness. Russia always looked at manifestations of weirdness and eccentricity as an obligatory trait of national character. Russian culture always had a penchant for the grotesque, for the unusual, embedded in the history which has never been linear, but characterised by changes of regimes, revolution, political and economic uncertainty. Russian people tried to find answers in searching for the meaning, where laughter and weirdness provided a respite from daily problems, gave hope and a new perspective. Ivan the Fool, positioned in Russian folklore, is one of such characters, giving us hope, but also making us laugh, but also Holy Fools, real personalities in Russian history, gave people the possibility of a different interpretation of reality, by using bizarre behaviour and talk in order to highlight the problems of the society and ruling class. The resurrection of Christian faith in Russia following the collapse of the Soviet Union, gave a new justification and reverence for the phenomenon of the Holy Fool.
Mamonov is very popular in Russia today because he is a typical example of someone who overcame the difficulties of the change in regime and political ideology. As many other Russian people, he had difficult moments in his life, where he also experienced deprivation and periods of total hopelessness. He resorted to Christian faith as many other Russian people, to find new meaning and hope, and uses his popularity and fame in order to tell others about God, while also using his influence to point to the short-coming of the government.
In this respect, we can argue that holy-foolishness is embedded In Russian character and culture, where it is a recognised Christian phenomenon, positioned outside the mental health discourse on madness. Mamonov could be considered as ‘mad’, but because he is Russian, where ‘madness’ is accepted as eccentricity, he managed to channel his eccentricity into a higher purpose, where his madness is used to cherish artistic talent, and educate others about faith.
As Mamonov tells us himself:
“We all choose byways. In this respect, I am a very good example; I often choose the longest way round. Thanks to God, He led me to the right spring….” (Ruvinsky, 2011).
The Holy Fool, to remind you (please, refer to part one), was a person who became mad for the sake of Christ. It was a well-known, recognized phenomenon in the old Russia. It was a man or a woman who would often wander the streets of old Rus and remind people to live their lives based in Christian values. They would often appear as ‘mad’, as ‘insane’, but several of these Holy Fools were recognized by the Russian Orthodox Church as saints, with one of the most famous Holy Fool being Saint Vasilii the Blessed. It was after him that the most famous Russian Cathedral, the Cathedral of Saint Vasilii The Blessed (Saint Basil) was named.
From the beginning the character of the Holy Fool has fascinated Russian writers and we can find this personage in several writing and also paintings. Behind it, is the interest in the unexplainable, in the grotesque, in the spiritual domain, but where things always remain mysterious. It is the fascination with unpredictability, as long as good outweighs the evil, Russian people have been driven to explore the human soul, and the human misery, throughout the history, which can be seen in literature and art.
For example, Nikolai Leskov (1831-95), based his character in ‘Deathless Golovan’ on holy-fool, where the main protagonist is a simple man who takes care of those affected by a plague, despite danger for his own health. He also gives milk to a Jewish man, stupefying his neighbours. In his other writing, ‘Singlethought’ (1879), the main character, a police officer based in a provincial town, becomes slightly ‘mad’ after reading scriptures of the Bible. The reading has such a profound impact on him, that he starts to behave strangely, such as refusing bribes and gifts at his job, as was the custom then. The story highlighted the corruption of the power at that time, but also raised the more important spiritual questions. Who is really a fool here? A simple man who refuses to be corrupted, or the society as such, driven by corruption? And shouldn’t we rather abide by Christian, moral values in our daily life? As in holy-foolishness, the story also contains many grotesque, ‘hilarious’ moments, such as then Ryzhov, the main character, forces the mean Governor of the town to bow in front of the icons in the Church.
Other Russian writers explored the theme of ‘holy-foolishness’ either basing their character directly on holy-fool, or by building a story around the theme of holy-foolishness, where madness always takes on an additional meaning. It is never an ‘illness’, but something deeper, a battle of one’s soul, where the hero, while being ‘mad’, is more connected with God and spiritual aspects of life, than the laypeople, preoccupied with the material sides of things. Gorki explored the theme in ‘A Confession’, Chekov built his short story ‘Ward No. 6’ around holy-foolishness, where both protagonists, a long-time staying psychiatric inmate and his treating psychiatrist share remarkable traits with holy-fools, but also Bulgakov, it can be argued, based his ‘Master and Margarita’ on the motifs of holy-foolishness. The main character, the master, who ends up disillusioned by this world, is a modern ‘holy fool’, but unlike in the Moscovite Rus, he has problems to adjust and adapt to the requirements of the modern world, which in the Soviet Union, was characterised by omnipresent bureaucracy, corruption, ridiculous rules, and greediness, despite the fact that one of the slogans of the socialist regime was an equal society. The story of the Master runs in parallel with the story of Yeshua Ha-Notsri (Jesus of Nazareth), and some obvious conclusions can be drawn from the novel. There is a deep spiritual need nascent in all humanity, but it is often compromised by scepticism and inability to think outside the box, because of being under too much influence of materialistic world. Many ridiculous, hilarious scenes in the Soviet Moscow of Bulgakov draw a direct parallel with the weirdness and ‘laughter’ of holy-fools.
The image of Holy Fool can be also encountered in numerous paintings, where painters depicted the fascination and also certain reverence towards the character. He can be seen on numerous paintings of Nesterov, and also Syrikov, showing his firm place among laypeople, and not just being a character of Christian writings.
For a Russian culture, the holy fool has a deep meaning. It shows the possibilities of a spiritual domain, reinforces one’s faith, and reassures one that good will always outweigh the evil. Thus, the character of Holy Fool is deeply embedded in Russian culture and tradition.