As years dragged on since my involuntary emigration in 1996 at the impressionable age of 10, I tenaciously clung onto ideals most vivid in my memory. Tears poured from my eyes upon hearing songs of the WWII genre, and I don't mean just tango music of the 30s and 40s. I mean there's a real genre of music in Russia that is solely about war, and is rather beautiful; everyone can sing along or at at least hum to its melodies. My empathy for the unknown soldiers who died in wars unknown to me (all those fought after WWII, of which there are many) ran deep and hurt my soul. It was a strange feeling. The emotion was exclusive to my country of origin, it never occurred to me that maybe the empathy should run as deep for other nations and their losses.
The feeling was so innate and I never questioned it, until this May 9th. For the first time in my adult life I witnessed what the actual day looked liked. I saw the televised procession of militant humans and machines. I saw the powerful congregations of civilians walking in memory of their lost ancestors, four generations passed. I thought of the implications of these elements.
The present Russian government capitalizes on the sense of camaraderie of its civilians in this colossal and very righteous event that transgressed 70 plus years ago. The Soviet people beat the Nazis and saved the world. The Russian government can now use this event as the means to justify investing in its military power. On May 9th they can show off all the young recruits marching through the streets of major cities, who can only hope to live up to the deity-status of those who died in WWII. All the civilians can bestow complacent pride upon the rivers of future casualties. People's desire to congregate for a cause is quenched in a union of a politically supported, and militantly accommodated Immortal Regiment to commemorate the much appreciated casualties of WWII. Nationalism is fortified yearly, on May 9th.
I question the sincerity of my government sponsored empathy for the soldiers of my mother nation and their sacrifices for the safety of their families. I no longer cry when I listen to one of my favorite genres of Russian music. I enjoy it with a sober apprehension of its power to affect my mentality.
I can't help but feel a sense of shame for my cavalier commentary, I know May 9th is truly sacred to my people. Nevertheless I feel it is necessary.
Some televised snippets of televised programming:
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