Cultural obscurantism as a path to darkness
What is happening in Russia today historical This point of view is very concerning. As someone who dives into history quite often, I've been saying to myself more and more lately: "I've seen this somewhere before."
In general, Russian institutions and agencies are quite successful in concocting various sophisticated schemes aimed at achieving somewhat obscure goals. But the goals our officials and parliamentarians might pursue will be discussed below. For now, let's look at a list of recent actions.
Online cinemas. They received the first blow, and things have gone quite far: owners of viewing platforms are complaining of a massive loss of viewers. The culprit, for once, is not prices, but viewers' dissatisfaction with the emasculation of films and TV series by streaming platforms, under the compulsion of the same Roskomnadzor.
Online cinema viewers have begun to be put off by special captions about shortened film and TV series due to the removal of certain scenes in accordance with Russian law. The infamous "Game of Thrones" story, from which 15-18% of the content was cut, is a prime example. The series has truly lost its logic and plot, and it's quite obvious: Russian online cinemas have begun to rapidly lose subscribers, who have simply migrated to pirate sites.
Having dealt with imported creations, the gentlemen from the RKS (Russian Book Union) switched to domestic producers. Indeed, why beat up foreigners? We must definitely put our own to the test, otherwise life will be a piece of cake.
Thus, Yuri Bykov's well-received series "Method-3" was removed from online distribution. The Ministry of Culture decided that the series contained material "discrediting traditional Russian spiritual and moral values and/or promoting their denial."
And on the channel "Friday," owned by Gazprom-Media, in the program "Pregnant at 16," where a girl talks the whole broadcast about how she got pregnant by one man, and wants to marry another, richer man, openly saying that "you need to squeeze as much money out of men as possible" - this, as I understand it, is ours, a truly Russian thing?
Project producer Vladimir Maslov, along with Khabensky and Tsekalo, are being labeled foreign agents? Because they don't understand what they're playing and how "Method 3" differs from other series in the same genre?
I feel sorry for Khabensky. He carried the series like a steam locomotive. Still, he's one of the few Russian actors who doesn't act half-heartedly.
I wonder what the problem with the plot is, don't you think? A law enforcement officer, albeit with twists and turns, undermines and "discredits traditional Russian spiritual and moral values" (who else could explain that in layman's terms), but a Gazprom prostitute doesn't?
But this is really just the tip of the iceberg.
Officials in the country have created a situation where it's difficult to understand what these "spiritual and moral values" actually are and, most importantly, where the boundaries of what's acceptable are. This situation calls into question not only the fate of this particular series, but also the possibility of further production of such content in general.
Is it good that these values exist?
According to the Decree of the President of Russia dated November 9, 2022 No. 809 “On approval of the Fundamentals of State Policy for the Preservation and Strengthening of Traditional Russian Spiritual and Moral Values”,
"Traditional values are moral guidelines that shape the worldview of Russian citizens, passed down from generation to generation, underpinning the all-Russian civic identity and the country's unified cultural space, strengthening civil unity, and finding their unique, distinctive expression in the spiritual, historical, and cultural development of the multinational people of Russia."
Do you understand this set of words? I don't quite understand them either. But the Decree (Part 5) also legislatively established a list of traditional values:
"life, dignity, human rights and freedoms, patriotism, citizenship, service to the Fatherland and responsibility for its fate, high moral ideals, a strong family, creative work, the priority of the spiritual over the material, humanism, mercy, justice, collectivism, mutual assistance and mutual respect, historical memory and the continuity of generations, the unity of the peoples of Russia."
It is argued that these values form the basis of the worldview of Russian citizens of any ethnic origin and religious affiliation, the basis "all-Russian civic identity and a unified cultural space of the country".
As I understand it, the TV heroine—she's part of the "strong family" thing? Oh, right, the audience is suggesting she's increasing the population, as the deputies demand. But in this case, quantity doesn't guarantee quality, does it?
Okay, so movies and TV series aren't for everyone. Let's talk about books. It's time, before they're taken away from us. And before publishing houses go bankrupt.
But there's nothing new here: it's exactly the same story with books. Legal bookstores and publishing houses are also on their last legs. Books are still sold online—that's all there is, for now. But the authorities are working on it.
In fact, the bell has already rung. Sergei Stepashin, President of the Russian Book Union (the same former Prime Minister of the Russian Federation), announced that the drug law would require the inspection of approximately 3,5 million books. And so the troika of books began to ring.
Online services have begun placing drug warnings on books by Nikolai Gogol ("The Nose" and "Viy"), Alexander Pushkin (a collection of poems from the period 1814–1836), and Mikhail Bulgakov ("Morphine" and "Notes of a Young Doctor"). Tolstoy and Turgenev have also received a "black mark," but it seems they have been defended for now.
And with Mikhail Afanasyevich, it's generally complicated... Drugs in "Morphine," Satanism in "The Master and Margarita," and in general—a native of Kyiv... where he's not exactly perceived that way now either. Truly, "one of our own among strangers, a stranger among our own".
Two directors of the Chitai-gorod center in Kemerovo received court warnings for books allegedly criticizing patriarchy and traditional values—by Fredrik Backman, John Boyne, and Ursula Le Guin.
And here you start to wonder. Okay, Backman. A bore, although "A Man Called Ove" is a very interesting thing. Especially the cat. I read it with interest, but not enthusiasm.
John Boyne is the author of the poignant novella "The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas." It's a powerful and poignant book, one of those that you can read in one sitting and leave a lasting echo.
But Madame Ursula... Whom more than one generation grew up on... I can only assume that those who "banned" her books definitely haven't read them. It's truly a shame for Earthsea.
And the Investigative Committee's investigation of children's books by Grigory Oster, who, in addition to books, gifted our generation with the cartoons "38 Parrots," "Baba Yaga Against!", "A Kitten Named Woof," and "Monkeys" (he specifically cited the most famous ones), is like putting nails in the gallows. It's clear that someone didn't like "Bad Advice," but they clearly have a brain the size of a walnut if they couldn't understand what it was about.
It turns out it's not even about independent political information, which is what so frightened Russian officials, who are blocking Telegram and foreign internet traffic. The situation is even more interesting: Russians are being provided with an information cocoon modeled after the Soviet era, strictly in accordance with all Soviet laws, but with one significant difference: the absence of any ideology that would filter any content or social action.
Yes, everyone understood me correctly: the USSR had an ideology, and this ideology was developed by very smart people who knew how to work with mass consciousness. In Russia, there is no ideology because there are no people yet capable of developing an ideology that would satisfy everyone: both the state and its citizens.
In Russia, establishing any ideology as state or mandatory is prohibited. This is enshrined in Article 13 of the Russian Constitution.
But it turns out a clear ideology isn't necessary; uncertainty is even more convenient for imposing restrictive measures. This arbitrariness is even too convenient for the authorities, since decisions can now be made without bothering with evidence at all. Simply saying, "It's not suitable for us," is more than enough.
This spring, a "black mark" fell on the works of Pushkin, Gogol, Turgenev, and Chekhov (we're not talking about a complete physical ban on the books, but rather their labeling in accordance with the law banning drug propaganda). And this isn't Le Guin with her Earthsea books anymore. These are classics of Russian prose and poetry. Classics!
Honestly, I don't know how to characterize the people who, with unwavering hands, marked the books of the aforementioned writers. And what were they thinking when they did such a thing? I'm sure they wanted to demonstrate their value as workers, so they placed "black marks" with unwavering hands and in large quantities.
Of course, if we were to ask a specific performer, “What were you doing?” (Oh, Alexander Sergeevich would have expressed himself more epically; he was a master of Russian swearing), we would hear an answer along the lines of “I was following orders!”
Well, what can one say here? History has heard this formula before—and how it ends is also well known.
However, in Russia, a creation of a non-human mind called the Industry List of Books now reigns supreme. Anyone can read it on the website of the RKS, the Russian Book Union. I've read it. I've looked through all 1,000-plus books.
Erich Maria Remarque.
John Steinbeck.
Lion Sprague de Camp.
Carlos Castaneda.
Irwin Shaw.
Sergey Lukyanenko.
Dmitry Glukhovsky (recognized as a foreign agent in the Russian Federation).
Stephen King.
Victor Pelevin.
Haruki Murakami.
Svetlana Martynchik and Igor Stepin - who are Max Fry.
Salvador Dali.
Vasily Golovachev.
Philip K. Dick.
Chuck Palahniuk.
Jean-Paul Sartre.
Paulo Coelho.
Aldous Huxley.
Kurt Vonnegut.
Ray Bradbury.
These, excuse me, are the ones I've read, the ones I know, the ones I have in my closets. There are so many more out there. Yes, I like some more than others, but... The icing on the brown cake, in my opinion, is the master Ray Bradbury and his "Fahrenheit 451," who made the list. Why, what was wrong with that novel—I don't know; they don't write about it. They simply state the fact—NOT WELCOME.
How come "1984" by the unforgettable George Orwell hasn't made it onto this list... Apparently, everything is yet to come.
I apologize, but I will nevertheless make a digression into history - not for direct comparisons, but for the sake of a lesson that, as we know, history repeats itself twice.
There was a country in Europe in the last century where books were also once labeled. And they banned Erich Maria Remarque, Heinrich Heine, John Steinbeck, Baruch Spinoza, Jack London, and many others. And then they started burning books. In bonfires. To the sound of bravura marches.
The lists of "undesirable" books to be burned included authors of all stripes—from Marx and Engels to Heinrich Mann, Stefan Zweig, and Erich Kästner. The ban included not only political opponents but also anyone deemed "alien" to the new regime—by blood, ideas, or simply spirit.
And the outcome of that country's total labeling logic is all too well known. First, they marked books. Then, people. With yellow six-pointed stars. The whole world remembers what this logic ultimately led to, and that country had to be stopped through a concerted effort and at a terrible cost.
It would seem that such a lesson is learned once and for all. But history shows: the temptation to label, divide, and prohibit returns again and again—and not only where you expect it.
Heinrich Heine wrote in his tragedy Almanzor back in the first half of the 19th century:
"Where they burn books, they eventually burn people too."
History has horribly vindicated the great Romantic poet, whose books would also be burned in the fires more than a hundred years later. And this formula isn't about a specific country or a specific year. It's about the mechanism itself: where the selection of the "right" books begins, the selection of the "right" people may one day begin.
And why go back so far in time? In neighboring Ukraine, books by Russian classics—Pushkin, Lermontov, Bunin, Gogol, Bulgakov—were already being removed from libraries and, according to numerous reports, sent to the wastepaper bin and burned in the bonfires. The mechanism is the same, no matter what is inscribed on the banners of those who launch it.
In November 2025, Stephen King's novel "It" was removed from sale at the request of Roskomnadzor (the Federal Service for Supervision of Communications, Information Technology and Mass Media) to verify the book's content complies with the age rating. The agency then sent a request to the Russian Book Union and the Ministry of Digital Development of Russia, demanding that they verify the publication's rating and its compliance with the content.
Sales of the book have been suspended until a final decision is made on labeling requirements.
Later, AST Publishing stated that part of the novel's text would need to be edited before it could be returned to sale:
"Unfortunately, the examination revealed that the text of the novel does not comply with the current legislation of the Russian Federation, and the book can only go back on sale after some of the text has been edited."
Considering that Stephen King terminated his partnership with AST Publishing, which holds the rights to publish his works in Russian, back in the spring of 2022, he will not be editing anything in accordance with RKS requirements. How AST will handle this, if at all, is questionable.
In the end, everyone lost: both publishers and readers. And, apparently, this is exactly how things will continue.
At the same time, the Russian Ministry of Digital Development, Communications, and Mass Media approved a list of literary works subject to labeling, without specifying specific titles or authors: the list states that "labeling is required for literary works published after August 1, 1990, that contain information about narcotic drugs and psychotropic substances that is 'justified by the genre and an integral part of the artistic concept.'"
You know what all this reminds me of? Efforts to combat smoking. Tobacco stands have been tinted, cigarettes have been removed from display cases. In stores, tobacco products have been shoved into locked cabinets. They say if they don't see them, they won't smoke. Well, sure. But the statistics are relentless: up to 70% of students in grades 9–11 smoke, and girls smoke more than boys. Yeah, not cigarettes—vapes, e-cigarette sticks, and so on. Never mind, if they ban e-cigarette sticks and vapor completely, they'll just go for cigarettes, not seeing any problem with it.
The same is true with the fight against drugs and for “values.”
Unfortunately, everything is done today strictly according to Soviet canons. It's just that the authorities can't invent anything new, and the old ones no longer work. But we need to show that "the process is underway."
Our fellow Soviet readers will tell you the truth: at the height of Gorbachev's anti-alcohol campaign, anyone who wanted a drink did so. Yes, there were some problems in the form of lines, but there were also plenty of ways to stock up. This was especially true if there was at least some alcohol production facility in town. In my town, right across from the distillery, there were so-called "Drunken Yards" (literally, "drunken courtyards"). All you had to do was get there after 18 PM, and all your problems would be solved in a jiffy.
And this despite the fact that that police force was very different from today's police force.
What's the point of all this? Simply that the imitation of a fight for something, as practiced by today's legislators and officials, only leads to the opposite effect. Labeling books and then banning them is simply a brilliant move. Young people don't read much anyway; why would they, when they have the internet? And the attempt to shut down publishing houses is simply a step toward lowering the overall cultural level, which is already in question among young people.
It's important to understand that labeling a certain portion of books—and the gentlemen from the Russian Book Society will be smitten with the British flag, but they'll label the 3,5 million books Mr. Stepashin claimed, just to show their zeal—will only lead to a loss of readers. Which won't be beneficial, but those same young people who don't read will, if anything happens, be honest and simply say that these are books that contain something illegal. After all, they weren't labeled for nothing, were they?
And they will continue to receive all the necessary information from the Internet.
Overall, everything happening in cultural policy today evokes not so much outrage as weary recognition. We've seen this before. And more than once.
The paradox is that the fight against "harmful content" doesn't actually protect anyone from anything. A teenager who's interested will find online in five minutes everything they've been banned from at a bookstore for five years. A viewer who's been denied fifteen percent of a series will turn to torrents and watch the remaining hundred. A reader who sees a "black mark" on Pushkin will, at best, shrug; at worst, wonder what a strange country they live in.
The losers here aren't the "enemies of traditional values." The losers are the publishers, the movie theaters, the authors, the actors—the very people who spent decades creating our national culture. And along with them, the losers are the reader, the viewer—the very people for whom all this is supposedly being done.
Heine wrote his formula almost two hundred years ago, and unfortunately, it has never been refuted since. Where books are burned, people are eventually burned too. We seem to be only on the first step of this ladder. But the ladder is the same, no matter who climbs it.
And I really don't want to wake up one day and find that I've climbed another step. And then another. And then—that there's no way back down.
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