Ivan Plusch
Does anyone today feel nostalgic for the industrial labour that has irrevocably passed, for that industry which was one of the pillars of the life of a Soviet citizen – with gigantic factories, “a common goal”, machine tools and workshops? Or is it a deceptive feeling and people yearn by no means for such teamwork – vigorous, cheerful, like in Soviet posters (it is unlikely that it was truly such), but for the lost ideology, for the bird in the hand and the two in the bush that all flew away, for the confidence in the future and the hope that after heavy shifts, somewhere at the end of the tunnel, there would be a small Khrushchyovka flat beckoning with its soothing light of homely warmth, albeit with low ceilings and a 5.5 square metre kitchen, as if planned by misanthropes, but one’s own and forever?!
Maybe this is nostalgia for the departed spirit of solidarity, when everyone bands together, which means “we can move mountains”? Labour per se has nothing to do with it... Labour in this case is not crucial, perhaps unpleasant, but it leads to a result. Planning, methods and responsibility – describing labour is almost impossible due to the complexity of defining it, such is the variety of its forms and methods. Does it exist now? Can writing this text be considered labour or merely a simulation of it? Labour today is as indescribable as it was yesterday. But there are results, the fruits of labour — they can be used to plot a graph of success or of hopeless regression. Thus it was back then, in the epoch of factories and plants, and so it is now when labour is devoted solely to one’s own interests.
As “from a spark a fire will flare up!”, thus can a flag be restored from a floor cloth, and vice versa. Everything is possible, and history is proof of this. Primitive or enthusiastic, brief or long-lasting – labour is illusive – one snatches at emptiness with one’s hands, draws squiggles, writes plans in a notebook, and if a goal is achieved and there is progress, then the labour straightens one’s shoulders, making one say, “Here I am, big, powerful, all this is thanks to me!” Although, if something has been achieved, but not quite, not what was expected, or it has nothing to do with us, then the labour as a process of creating it dwindles, loses value, and shrivels up into itself... However, the labour involved in both cases was more or less equal.
In a situation when the language describing labour is simple and familiar, the complexity and absence of a systematic approach to understanding this issue make one regard labour as something frightening, crooked-handed, brilliant and combining all earthly qualities simultaneously.