Sergei Dovlatov. Area (№ 189358)

"Hard" literature exists for several centuries. Even at a young Russian literature this theme presents Grand designs. Starting with "the Dead house" and ending with "Gulag". Plus Chekhov, Shalamov, Sinyavsky
Along with the "convict" has a "police" literature. Which is also rich in significant figures. From Chesterton to Agatha Christie.
This is a different literature. Rather, the opposite. With the opposite moral values.
So there are two moral price list. Two scales ideological views.
One convict is a figure of a suffering, tragic, deserving of pity and admiration. Guard, respectively, the monster, the villain, the embodiment of cruelty and violence.
The second convict is a monster fiend. And the police, therefore, - a hero, a moralist, a bright creative personality.
Becoming a warden, I was ready to see in the enclosed victim. They see themselves as the Punisher and murderer.
I was leaning towards the first, more humane scale. More typical raised me Russian literature. And, of course, more convincing. (Still he's not Dostoevsky.)
After a week with these fantasies was over. The first scale was completely false. The second even more so.
I, following Herbert Marcuse (which, of course, not read), found a third way.
I found a striking similarity between the camp and will. Between prisoners and staff. Between the burglar recidivists and the controllers of the production zones. Between the prisoners-narachika and ranks of the camp administration.
On both sides of zapretki stretched uniform and soulless world.
We spoke the same, priblatnennogo language. Singing the same sentimental songs. Endured the same hardships.
We even looked alike. We sheared the car. Our weather-beaten face was colored with purple spots. Our boots spread the smell of the stables. And the camp's robe from a distance it seemed indistinguishable from a worn soldier's jacket.
We were very similar and even interchangeable. Almost every prisoner was fit for the role of a security guard. Almost any warden deserved prison.