Nikolai Karpitsky. Party of the Dead against Putin's Russia

Source: PostPravda.info 21.10.2024

URL: https://postpravda.info/en/stories/freedom-of-speech-en/party-of-the-dead/

On October 7, a “nicht verstehen” action against “Putinversteher” and Putin's policies was held in Bonn in front of the Russian consulate in Germany, timed to coincide with his birthday. The protest action was organized by the German branch of the “Party of the Dead”. Its founder, Maxim Evstropov, advocates the defense of the dead against the encroachments of the current Russian government. The activists placed a candle “for the repose of Putin's soul” and wished him a speedy “day of death”. The Party of the Dead emerged as an artistic and political project in 2017 in St. Petersburg and became known for its actions, performances and other events in Russia. The Kremlin authorities swiftly recognized it as a danger and began to persecute the members of the party. As a result many activists were forced to emigrate and now hold similar actions in different countries around the world. However, I think that such a party could only emerge in Russia and only in Russia the meaning of its actions is self-evident. It is connected to the special attitude towards death that is cultivated in modern Russia. 

The Cult of Death in Russia

Russia has waged wars of conquest throughout its history using the same tactics, ruthlessly expending masses of soldiers in suicidal attacks. This is the same tactic Russia is using now in Ukraine. What is surprising, however, is that Russian soldiers both before and now are willing to obediently march to their death over the corpses of their comrades. This willingness to die senselessly is linked to a special mood in which life ceases to be valuable enough to fight for. This special necrophilic mood is accompanied by a loss of the sense of life. In Russia it is somehow transmitted from one person to another, but outside Russia it is difficult to explain what it is at all. Maxim Evstropov describes it as follows: “While in Russia, I constantly felt that many people are in a state of ‘derealization’. It seems to them that they are not really living, nothing really happens to them. And in general, everything that happens in Russia seems to be “not real.” Some things that are common for Russians are really hard to comprehend, especially for an outsider. And the 'derealizer' is a psychological defense reaction against the horror that is going on.” (Derealizer is Maxim Evstropov's neologism, meaning a force or psychological mechanism that leads to the loss of a sense of reality).

Soldiers in the Russian army were always treated as expendable, but still the Orthodox Russian emperors believed that after death a person was no longer in their power, but in the power of God. However, the communists denied the existence of God and used the cult of dead heroes for their ideological purposes. Therefore, even now in Russia it is believed that if a hero survived, he is some kind of inferior hero. Only death can make a person a real hero. For example, pro-Russian propagandists used the fact that the Azov and other defenders of Mariupol surrendered and did not die as an argument that they are in fact false heroes. However, in the Ukrainian consciousness, real heroism is manifested not in death, but in the will to live, which the Azovites demonstrated by choosing captivity, which is more terrible than death.

The ideology of the Soviet Union contradictorily combined the ideals of a happy prosperous life with the cultivation of death and necrophilic symbolism. Soviet songs and movies cultivated heroic death, a mausoleum was built in the capital's Red Square, and the Kremlin wall was turned into a cemetery. Even the coat of arms of the Soviet Union was created in the likeness of a tombstone wreath. However, in the Soviet Union, the necrophilic attitude occupied a limited place in the system of ideology and propaganda, without canceling people's desire for a happy life. The current Russian authorities do not rely on any particular ideology, despite what many might believe, but instead promote such an idea of the world, in which the necrophilic attitude is expressed not in ideological formulations, but in a vague feeling that distorts the perception of events and devalues life. 

The difference between the necrophilic attitude in the Soviet Union and in present-day Russia is evident in the way Victory Day over fascism is celebrated. In the Soviet Union, death was glorified, but the holiday itself was perceived as a reminder of a tragedy that should never be repeated. Victory Day in today's Russia is held under the slogan “We can do it again!” and has turned into a celebration of imperial grandeur, for the sake of which any human sacrifice is justified. A neologism has emerged to name this bacchanalia - “pobedobesie”, which can be roughly translated as “victoradness”, i.e. - victory madness, but it's important to note, that the word “besit’sa”, to act crazy, has the same root as the word - “bes”, an imp or demon, so may be “victorimping” or “demonry” would be a better translation.  It is in fact a “substitution of the Victory Day celebration with a mad rampage of demonic forces”. 

In 2011, journalists from the independent TV2 television company in Tomsk decided to counter this bacchanalia of imperial grandeur with the “Immortal Regiment” procession. They naively hoped that if ordinary people came out with portraits of their dead ancestors, they would shame those who turn the memory of the war into a necrophilic carnival. However, the Russian authorities appropriated the initiative of the “Immortal Regiment” and themselves began to organize processions with portraits of the dead, not in memory of the tragedy, but in support of imperial ambitions. This was their way of saying: “Even the dead support us! Our power extends not only to the living, but also to the dead!” Only the fear that portraits of those killed in Ukraine would appear in the “Immortal Regiment” procession, and thus people would recognize the scale of military losses, forced the Russian authorities to cancel this necrophilic social event.  

No one has the right to appropriate the voices of the dead

The Party of the Dead opposes the use of the dead as another resource for power and cultural and political necrophilia in contemporary Russia, which manifests itself in a militaristic and patriotic death cult and the absence of a project for the future. Maxim Evstropov, the party's founder states: “Posts in support of Putin are now distributed even from the social media accounts of those long gone. When votes are counted in elections, dead people vote. There were even cases when dead deputies voted in the State Duma. The dead are not allowed to be dead, the living are not allowed to be alive.” The Party of the Dead opposes this with a principle enshrined in its charter: “No one - no social group or individual living person - has the privileged and exclusive right to speak on behalf of the dead.”

To describe its activities the Party of the Dead uses the term “necroactivism”, which includes public art events and political actions in the form of street performances, where protest ideas are expressed through artistic means. For example, in 2018, at the May Day demonstration in St. Petersburg, Varya Mikhailova was detained for walking in the Party of the Dead column with the painting “9 Stages of Decomposition of the Leader”. It was a collage of a series of photographs capturing grass sprouting through Putin's portrait. Varya was awarded a colossal fine for those times, and the artwork itself was ordered by the court to be destroyed, despite the fact that the work was a digital collage and not a physical object.

The Party of the Dead is built on anarchist principles. Participants of street actions could gather in one place, could act synchronously in different places and even countries, despite the fact that sometimes they do not know each other personally. The party lacks centralized management and the usual signs of organization. Its activities are coordinated either by its ideological inspirer Maxim Evstropov or by the initiators of specific actions. During the actions, the Party of the Dead members hide their faces with skull masks, preserving their anonymity. In this way they symbolically identify themselves with the dead. If the Russian state speaks on behalf of the dead as a usurper of power over them, the participants of the actions do not separate themselves from the dead, they perceive themselves as their equals, believing that in a sense, albeit symbolically, the dead themselves gain subjectivity through such actions and act as critics of the state, war, hierarchies and ideas, exposing the absurdity of power.

Persecution of the Party of the Dead in Russia

Until 2022, Russian authorities systematically detained and fined Party of the Dead members, but criminal prosecutions began after the large-scale invasion of Ukraine, when the Party of the Dead spoke out against the aggressive war and Russian military necropolitics. Many party members were forced to emigrate, establishing branches in different countries. The most active branches currently operate in Georgia and Germany. Those who stayed in Russia live under constant threat of arrest.

Thus, while staying in Georgia Maxim Evstropov learned from the media that in January 2023 a trial started against him, and in February 2023 the court decided to arrest him in absentia. I'm trying to imagine what a court hearing might look like. The judge is asking questions to an empty chair where the defendant, who has no idea he is being tried, should be sitting. The court-appointed lawyer answers instead of the absent person accused, asking to soften the measure of restraint, to replace the usual arrest in absentia with house arrest in absentia... Theater of the absurd! However, in Russia, the line between absurdity and reality has long been erased and now, it seems, everything is possible.

The basis for the prosecution was an anonymous message in social networks describing a then-upcoming action of the Party of the Dead, which Maxim did not even attend. Here I will provide the text in full and in its original form, with no capital letters, so that everyone can evaluate for themselves how insignificant a reason for mass searches, political persecution and criminal punishment can be. This short message is rather artistic in nature, as it uses the artistic device of alternating fragments of two different texts, one of which is an Easter greeting:

in the very heart of the russian world - in the russian cemetery - a bright easter holiday took place recently. no one rose from the dead.

“russia will rise free,” says death

“if,” say the spartans

death hopes for the best

christ is risen!

- and the conscript has not yet

by death trampling death

- the groom has arrived

christ is risen

-  and we have flies over here 

christ is risen indeed

- and patriarch kirill of the russian orthodox church blesses the war and thinks that turning cities into ruins, exterminating their inhabitants, as well as raping and pillaging for the sake of some pseudo-imperialist bullshit in a z-shaped circumvention of all the commandments is ok fine and sacred

well, godspeed!”

The author's black humor, which is typical for the performances of the Party of the Dead, peeks through the lines of this message. I know Maxim very well, we graduated from the same philosophy department, we worked together, I knew his son and his wife, who was my student, and therefore I can say that the performances of the Party of the Dead, albeit in a sarcastic manner, express his absolutely serious attitude towards death as well as his existential, not just political, rejection of the regime in Russia. If ordinary politicians cover up their non-seriousness by imitating serious activity, in the Party of the Dead it is the opposite, a serious attitude to death and power is covered up by grotesque play and black humor.

Is the Party of the Dead a political opposition?

The Russian opposition is increasingly making me feel ashamed, but this is quite natural. After all, Russians have no common self-identification or understanding of themselves as one people, so there can be no all-Russian opposition. There are people who wish to identify as the Russian opposition, but are engaged in imitation instead. Maxim Evstropov is not an oppositionist, but a political artist, an art activist. But he is also a philosopher, so he gives a philosophical understanding of his political activity. I respect Maxim as a philosopher, as a colleague, and as a professional - a candidate of philosophical sciences, author of scientific articles and monographs, but his philosophical language is very different from mine, and is not always clear to me. Therefore, I will try to present his position as I understood it, although he may disagree with my interpretations in some respects.

The political situation in Russia is such that the complete helplessness of the opposition only causes despair. Maxim explains that political despair is a situation of political impossibility, loss of hopes and illusions. It can be called “political death,” which is quite akin to the position of an animal or a corpse. This despair is total and becomes the background of every action and every thought. However, Maxim believes that the possibility of overcoming despair lies in despair itself. To do this, one must despair absolutely. One must despair in order to act. This is how “political death” becomes the starting point of political struggle. Humor is one of the keys to turning despair into action. When there is nothing left to lose, all that remains is laughter. 

Humor makes it possible to look at any situation from two perspectives: a serious one, where everything has unconditional significance, and a non-serious one, where all significance turns into nothing. Laughter is affective in its nature - it is an affect that exists both inside and outside of a lived experience, of a situation, it is a transcendence of the self, an outsider's view. In the moment of ridicule, things lose their defined boundaries. However, in a situation of political despair, humor becomes black. It does not justify or legitimize political death in any way, but at the same time it opens a way out of the life situation into the space of freedom. Maxim believes that the “way out” of despair lies in a paradox: to get rid of despair, one must despair. Black humor lives political death and forms a new phenomenon with it, which we can observe in the street actions and performances of the Party of the Dead.

Let me give an example of how political desperation in a situation where elections are impossible led the Russian opposition to a dead end. Some members of the opposition called for a protest vote, others for an election boycott, and as a result neither strategy was implemented. The Party of the Dead translated this political despair into action and called for a vote for the dead, stating, “We remind you that this sub-fascist police state is essentially dead (strength is in truth, and truth is in death), it has buried its future, it is made up of apartment pyramids of corpses who still can't admit that they are already dead. They will persist for a long time to come, but the soil is more persistent.” The black humor of such an appeal really broke down the boundaries into which the Russian opposition had driven itself. 

The philosophy of the Party of the Dead allows us to better understand what is happening not only inside Russia, but also on the front. When the AFU captured a bridgehead in the Kursk region, many hoped that the Russian command would transfer forces from Donbass to this region, which in turn would lead to a weakening of the Russian offensive in that direction. But nothing of the sort happened. Maxim Evstropov explains it this way: “It must be that the task of the so-called ‘special military operation’ is to seize and turn the Ukrainian territories into the ‘Russian world’, i.e. into something uninhabitable. In this case, the loss of its own territories (Kursk, Belgorod region, etc.) is of no significant importance for the Russian Federation, because they already represent the “Russian world”, i.e. they are not designed for life. The fact that some people still live there is more of an unfortunate coincidence from the authorities' point of view”.

I call Russia's current state system necroimperialism because it cultivates death and is unacceptable for the living. Maxim Evstropov believes that it is unacceptable not only for the living, but also for the dead. 

Translation: Sasha Starost.

Anna Chagina: “I was scared to sing “Solnechny Krug”

Source: 24/02/2022. Очевидцы / 06.11.2024  https://ochevidcy.com/anna-chagina-mne-bylo-strashno-pet-solnechnyj-krug/

Anna Chagina is a viola player from Tomsk. After the Russian invasion of Ukraine, she took part in an anti-war rally, went to pickets, and wrote anti-war posts on social networks. She first got an administrative case, then a criminal case under the article on "discrediting the armed forces of the Russian Federation". When they came to search her, she sang to those who searched her.

Left the country. Now lives in Vilnius. Plays "jams" with musicians from different countries.

Tell us about yourself.

— My name is Anna, I am from Tomsk, I am 44 years old. I have been involved in music most of my life, I am a Christian, I have two adult children — a daughter and a son. Now I live in Vilnius, trying to rebuild my life.

How long have you been making music and what kind of music do you like?

— My first education was in cultural studies, but then I decided that I wanted to do something more practical, to realize myself more in art, so I went to study at a music college. I graduated from college with a degree in viola, and that was the beginning of my musical career. I worked at the philharmonic, then I started teaching violin and played in different musical groups. I have a great passion for Irish music, punk rock, I really love Bach.

Tell me how you, a “middle-aged woman,” could “discredit the army,” twice?

— I want to say “easily,” but this is, in general, a bitter joke. Indeed, a middle-aged woman can become a threat to the Russian army, to its honor and dignity. This is not a very pleasant experience.

Why did you attend the anti-war rally in Tomsk?

— I read about the war starting in the morning, still lying down, but it seemed to me that I fell. It was a shock, because I am not the kind of person who follows the news. Then my friends and I actively discussed it for several days, worried, and eventually began to go out on solo pickets. My daughter went out on a solo picket and was detained that same day. After the detention, she told me what happened at the police station, how they talked to her, how she behaved. Then they passed the law on defamation, and later there was a rally. It was scary, but we went. It was very disturbing, but sitting at home is even harder, as is doing nothing at all. A rally is at least something that can be done. I did not go out on a solo picket because I was scared. At the rally, I was detained along with several people almost immediately. My closest people were nearby, so first they took my friend's daughter, then her husband, then I took her poster and went with it until they detained me. I had a conversation with an FSB officer, after which they put me on notice and started following me. It was March. I asked people to help me pay the fine, and in three days we collected money through VKontakte for my fine and for the fine of another girl I knew. My friends immediately started telling me that I needed to leave, that they wouldn't let it go, that it would only get worse. Honestly, I didn't believe that it would get worse for me personally, but I was very afraid for my friends and loved ones. I wasn't a member of any political organizations, I rarely actively expressed my civic position, so I wasn't particularly worried about myself. When all this started happening to me - surveillance, trolling on the Internet - I treated it as something that wasn't very real. It was, of course, stressful, but at the same time, comparing it to what happened during the war, I thought that these were small difficulties.

You were charged with a second "discrediting of the Russian army" for quoting philosopher Nikolai Karpitsky on VKontakte. Tell us what the discrediting actually consisted of?

— Nikolai Karpitsky is my friend’s teacher, who influenced me greatly. This is my childhood and youth, I was 16 then, I had just started going to church. My friend told me about his teacher, about his anti-fascist initiatives, about how deeply he was immersed in the study of religious medieval mysticism — that’s how I learned about Karpitsky. I knew that Karpitsky lived in Slavyansk, so when the war began, I started asking my friends what was wrong with him, how he was feeling now, what he was doing, and I started reading his posts on Facebook and Telegram. It turned out that the man had not changed at all and remained a deep thinker. He reflected on the topic of war, spoke in detail about what was happening in Slavyansk, what was happening in other regions of Ukraine. I wanted to share this with people. The posts I published on my site were without links to his channel, but they were his words, and they were primarily addressed to thinking Russians. They were philosophical reflections on the topic of, for example, whether Russian soldiers are orcs or not, how war is possible in the 21st century, what Russia is now, what necro-imperialism is. Karpitsky continues to publish his thoughts, and I continue to read them. At first, when the war had just begun, he personally helped me a lot, because the media gave a very emotional assessment. I still can’t listen to news about the war, because for me, as a musician, everything that comes through my ears is too traumatic. Now I only read. And Karpitsky had a view that seemed very sober to me, without exaggeration. When there was a nightmare everywhere, I wanted some kind of living testimony. I don’t remember how many of his posts I published, but that was after the arrest. I understood that there might be some liability, but, based on the constitution, I should not have been subject to criminal prosecution because I only had one administrative case. I thought that I had one administrative case, there would be another, but as long as it was tolerable, I was ready to go along with it. When they came to search my place, I told them about it, that they were breaking the law, that they had no right to arrest me and conduct a search because I only had one administrative case. They told me: "No, this is a special article."

Tell us how the search went.

— The investigator who came to me immediately said that the entire Soviet police department knew me, without specifying why. It was unpleasant, but at the same time, I would say, very gentle. When I told one person about this, I said: “They didn’t beat me during the arrest — that’s already good,” because I read that in other cities they beat you, regardless of who you are — a woman, a man, an elderly person, a young person, they just beat you and that’s it. We didn’t have that in Tomsk. Then there were similar cases when security forces beat someone, but it didn’t affect me. I asked them to carefully put things back in their place. Probably, everyone who came didn’t expect to see what they saw — my family, we were alone with my daughter, our surroundings, me. We were all in mutual shock. The special forces officer generally hid in a corner and sat on a chair for the entire search, looking at his smartphone. And I organized a concert for the FSB officers.

How did those who searched your home react to your music?

— The best song was “Bright Star” — it’s a Baptist song. We sang it with the children in elementary school, it’s dedicated to Christmas. When I sang it, there was a ringing silence. That is, someone continued doing something, but basically everyone just stood and listened. It was a contrast. Music, of course, helped me get through it. My daughter also tried to sing, but her voice immediately gave out, because, as it turned out later, she was starting to get pneumonia, at that time she only had a fever. I sang, then she sang, then she said she couldn’t anymore, and I started singing again. Then it dawned on me that in total I sang different songs for two hours. The FSB officers gave different comments: “The song is too short”, “Let’s do something modern”, or “You’re not singing a patriotic repertoire”. Then I sang “Kalinka-Malinka” for them. In general, it was interesting. But "Sunny Circle, Sky Around" was already scary for me to sing, so I don't remember whether I sang it or not. I think that song was already considered extremist by then.

Can I ask you to sing a verse from "Bright Star"?

A bright star is shining in the sky.

Mom says to the children by the Christmas tree:

Soon, soon, New Year,

Soon, soon, Christmas,

The celebration is coming.

There is also a repeat of the chorus and there are lines like: "Happy holiday, happy holiday to the grown-up kids, even the pranksters say this." It's a good song, my children and I really loved singing it.

When a criminal case was opened against you, were you afraid of going to jail?

— Yes. But Russian reality has taught me that everything is possible, and prison is not the worst option. Well, you’ll sit in prison, but at least you’ll have a stable breakfast-lunch-dinner, you don’t have to think about anything. In general, these terrible, nightmarish thoughts come to me even here, when I’m safe. Sometimes I think that I left my family, left the country and went away, unlike Navalny, and it would be better to sit in prison. And then I remember those who would not have gone to prison, who would have been forced to come to me, who would bring me parcels, who would worry about me, that I’m not doing well there. I understand that this is an endless lie and humiliation in which you’re used to living, in which you’re used to thinking that prison is a way out. In reality, prison is not a way out. But I was mentally prepared for it. That night I spent in prison showed that I would survive there.

At the trial you said that you are a convinced pacifist. When did you realize this and how did it manifest itself?

— When did I first think about it? After or during the trial, I remembered that I cried to the song “Sunny Circle” as a child. It was just an emotional reaction. Here is the Soviet children’s song “Sunny Circle, the sky around,” and Anya is crying. It was absolutely impossible to sing it along because my voice was shaking. Well, I guess that’s when I realized it.

How did you end up in Vilnius?

— They tried to persuade me to leave the country for a long time. During the entire trial, my friends kept telling me, “Let’s get you out,” “You can’t stay, they’ll put you in jail.” After they didn’t put me in jail, but only fined me, I thought, what else can I do? I can appeal. And I did, although that was also a risk, because the judge could ask for a more severe punishment for me. I understood this, but at the same time I also understood that if I didn’t appeal, then in the hypothetical future, which would come sooner or later, it would be harder for me to hold accountable those people who condemned me — my judge, investigators, FSB officers. I decided that I would do it anyway. By that time, I already understood that I really needed to leave, because I didn’t stop. Life changed a lot during the investigation and trial, I changed. I no longer found ways to stay in Russia. It was literally a matter of life and death. I am not saying that someone was going to destroy me physically, it is just that there was less and less desire to live inside. It was a very difficult period, it was a difficult decision, but I was preparing for it. My appeal court was on October 26, and on November 1 I was already in Kazakhstan. All my emigration adventures were so amazing and gentle only thanks to the people who love me and have known me for a long time. I believe that those people who left on their own initiative - today you are here, and tomorrow it is unknown where, it is unknown with whom, it is unknown what your job is, it is unknown at all - these are ascetics, because they left the country only based on a moral choice. I was taken out after all. My friends supported me very, very much, so after I left, I had the opportunity to come to my senses. I ended up here thanks to the Freedom House foundation.

You are a musician, do you have the opportunity to make music here?

— Some time ago, it was the biggest problem. I took all three of my instruments with me, I had a hard time transporting them across all the borders, but when I came here, I realized that I had no one to play with. I am an ensemble person, I really like playing with someone, because playing in an ensemble produces completely different music, not the same as when you are alone with yourself and the music. Playing with someone is a contact of different life streams. I really missed making music together, but just recently, maybe a month ago, my friend, whom I met here, took me by the hand to a music jam. Anyone could come there. I met guys from different countries, so now I have a little outlet. It's some kind of fantasy. At the last jam, an American, an Iranian, an Indian, a Belarusian and I played. It is always very lively, very free. This is the experience that I have been missing for a long time. In Tomsk, this happened, but it was more difficult, because Russian musicians are special people, like Russians in general. We have a long way to go to learn to be free and simply enjoy life, enjoy what we do, enjoy music, enjoy each other. And I'm not even talking about the fact that we have a path of transformation of our country and reconciliation ahead. The pleasure I'm talking about can be experienced right now, because it helps to live not sometime later, when the war ends, but now. I have such an opportunity.

Will the war last long?

— Oh, that’s a difficult question. It’s clear that the consequences will last for a long time, if humanity doesn’t destroy itself, then for 50 years, maybe more. While I’ve been living here, I’ve had different feelings. At first it seemed like it would last for a long time, but now for some reason it seems like it will end pretty soon. Maybe I just want it to end. Here I met people from Belarus and Ukraine, and from here the war looks completely different than from Tomsk. Oddly enough, in Tomsk the war was perceived more acutely, because there was a feeling that you couldn’t do anything at all to stop it. And here I talked to Ukrainians and realized that it’s very difficult, it’s practically impossible, you constantly feel guilty and ashamed, it prevents you from talking to people, living and interacting somehow, but it needs to be done. I saw how Lithuanians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians treat me as a Russian, and I realized that their first reaction is also very difficult. That is, it is difficult for everyone to accept each other as we are, it is difficult to accept the situation because our countries are at war, but nevertheless we are trying to do it. It can be said that through communication with people from different countries, I personally bring the end of the war closer. I want to believe in this and hope that the war will end as soon as possible. Killing each other does not require great intelligence.

What are you most afraid of?

— It’s simple — I’m afraid for my children. It’s hard to talk about. When the war started, I realized that my children’s future was simply destroyed. I’m very afraid that Russia will win. Not on the battlefield, although that’s also possible, but I don’t think that will happen, but in the sense that it will remain the way it is now. It’s very painful to understand that your country has no future. I want Russia to change radically. That’s probably my biggest fear.

What gives hope?

— I can say “God,” but that would be too general. Probably, communication with people gives me hope the most. If we don’t talk about some of my personal religious ideas, then life experience and some conclusions about myself also give hope. People can change, and God, some call it the Universe, is merciful. The world can be merciful towards a person, this is important. And the opportunity to meet, communicate, be yourself with completely different people also gives hope.