Pravles Redneckoff 🇷🇺 Z

Thursday, September 12th, 2019, 13:15

City Park, Parkring 1, 1st district of Vienna

They are now at a big pond. If Tony Soprano lived in Vienna, he would have loved this place, because there are so many ducks there. On the opposite side of the pond there are trees. Behind them are mostly old buildings on the Ring street.

"Now I remember!" Buba says. "This Christian theology came up when you said that Ukraine needs a national idea. How can your version of Christianity help Ukraine?"

"Of course," Lisa says. "If Ukraine is like ancient Israel, then a modern, Ukrainian Jesus would try to save as many lives as possible, by forcing the elites to act in the long-term interests of the people."

"But where does the Divine come into play?" Buba says. "You can't expect people to be willing to sacrifice their comfort, much less their lives, to a rational, mathematically sterile idea?"

He is smart, Lisa thinks. If Timur has half his genes, I don't have to worry much about the IQ of our kids.

"You can position God as a totality of societal processes," Lisa says. "For example: One day, you are the co-founder of the second superpower, then – poof! – you are the poorhouse of Europe. Something in society caused that transition. Society works in mysterious ways."

"I don't know how, say, my smartphone works," Buba says. "For me, that's a mystery. But being mysterious does not make love my smartphone as I love people."

"A person you love is shaped by societal processes," Lisa says. "If you want this person to prosper, the society needs to prosper. Thus, if you do something pro-social, you express your love towards the people you love. Doing something good for the society is loving or serving God. A God whose existence is easy to prove."

"A person is them like a hologram – he or she contains an imprint of the society within themselves," Buba says. "Right?"

"That's a beautiful analogy, but it isn't 100% correct," Lisa says. "Contrary to a hologram, most people can prosper only if they are surrounded by people like them. A Ukrainian can stay a Ukrainian only in a Ukrainian society. This fact can lead to even greater emotional attachment than loving some members of the society as proxies of God."

"You mean that if I love my wife, I love God, because she is a part of society?" Buba says.

He didn't say he loves Timur, which would be logical, Lisa thinks. This speaks volumes.

"That's only a part of it," Lisa says. "If the society your wife lives in gets attacked by a hostile power, she will suffer. If you want to prevent your wife from getting hurt, you need to love thy society in practice."

"Good old fear-mongering," Buba says.

"It's not fear-mongering if the danger is real," Lisa says. "And it's real in many places in Eastern Europe. Plus: the danger of losing a loved one evokes stronger feelings than that loved one prospering."

"I know," Buba says. "I didn't mean to say that fear-mongering is bad in itself."

"That's good, very good," Buba says. "I never heard any Christian priest explain it to me in such a fascinating way."

"Thank you," Lisa says. "It gets better. Since 1991, there has been a fundamental problem with the Ukrainians – they didn't know what to be proud of."

"In Soviet times, we were co-founders and co-administrators of the world's second most powerful superpower," Lisa says. "That was something to be proud of. After 1991, Ukraine feels to most people like a smaller Russia."

"People have been trying to come up with national ideas, but the results are underwhelming at best, hilarious at worst," Lisa says.

"Hilarious?" Buba says.

"I'll show you something," Lisa says.

Lisa types on her phone, then shows her phone to Buba.

"Here, a certain Andrii Popov writes about the trident on the Ukrainian coat of arms," Lisa says. "He claims that it's not a trident at all, but the imprint of the foot of a battle dinosaur. According to him, ancient Ukrainians domesticated the dinosaurs. He quotes some unnamed British researchers as a source."

"That's funny," Buba says. "But is your Ukrainian Israel any better?"

"Yes. Here is how it can work," Lisa says. "We start with the status quo, when our domestic elites brought the country to its knees."

"Now, imagine, that over the next 1–2 years the Ukrainians – true Christians – self-organize in such as way that they manage to force the elites to come to their senses," Lisa says.

"Come to their senses how, exactly?" Buba says.

"Avoid a big war with Russia, at the very least," Lisa says. "Now, this will have a tremendous appeal to most people in the world. Everywhere the people are oppressed by the elites. And we in Ukraine managed to a) turn this around and b) battle-test a teaching which can allow other nations to do the same."

"If we the people of Ukraine manage to force our government to enforce the freaking Minsk agreements and prevent a war with Russia, then the Ukrainians have the right to call themselves the Chosen People," Lisa says. "And not because some old dusty books say so, but on merit – because we've proven that we practice what we teach, and achieve life-saving results. A self-chosen nation."

They walk further and stop for a few moments on a bridge over the little Wien river. The bridge has a art nouveau railing. Thre are locks on it symbolizing the hopefully-eternal love.

From one side of the bridge, you can see the Hilton hotel, from the other one – the Intercontinental one.

"I am very sorry to ask you this," Buba says. "But can we sit down somewhere? I'd love to have a coffee and a snack."

"Sure," Lisa says.

"Let's go to the Marriott," Buba says. "Returning to our conversation, what if this plan of yours doesn't work?"

"Then there will be hell," Lisa says. "Not the imaginary hell in the afterlife, but a very real hell of war, maybe complete destruction of the Ukrainian state. This, by the way, makes such ideas like sin and hell much more tangible. The inability to self-organize and defend one's interests is a sin. Unless fixed, it can lead to hell in form of a war that we are bound to lose."

Buba puts on his pensive look again. Then he smiles.

"These are good ideas," Buba says. "You should write them down. Publish them, maybe. The Gospel According to Lisa."

It's time to close the deal, Lisa thinks.

"Messiahs don't write books," Lisa says.

Buba laughs.

"You think you are Jesus?" Buba says.

"Just think about it," Lisa says. "You have the connections to all the right people who can fund me. Like this Abramovich you talked about. You know all sorts of politicians who can mentor me, teach me how to promote these ideas."

They walk out of the city park from the same entrance, cross the street, and sit down in the lobby of the Marriott hotel.

"And if I succeed, if I manage to prevent that big war, you can have all the credit," Lisa says. "Just imagine: You could be the savior of Ukraine, 52 million people. A new Gandhi, or Mandela. Heck, more more influential than Dudaev! More popular than Putin, at least in the West. Given your views regarding Russia, you even have a shot at a Nobel Peace Prize. Wouldn't that be a killer legacy?"

I feel like I actually believe all of this, Lisa thinks. It's not manipulation if I believe it myself. All's fair in love and war, including the war of ideas.

Buba scratches his beard.

"In theory, this can work…" Buba says. "At a first glance. But…"

"But what?" Lisa says.

"I don't want you to end up like the historical Jesus," Buba says. "Or worse. The SBU isn't as touchy-feely as Pontius Pilate and his Roman soldiers were."