Илья Марголин – The First Quarter Of My Century (страница 7)

Fighting corruption means not chasing, but naming. Naming things as they are. Recognizing the useless as useless. Ceasing participation in simulations. And, above all, restoring to the individual the internal right to meaning: to ask oneself and others the uncomfortable question, «Why this?»

As long as this question is asked, resistance is still possible. Quiet. Invisible. But real. Resistance – not to the system, but to meaninglessness. And therefore to the deepest form of corruption: the corruption of distinctions between what is necessary and what merely exists.

Freedom

In this text, I reflect on freedom not as a right or external possibility, but as an internal state requiring maturity. It was important for me to establish that freedom begins not where constraints disappear, but where a person is capable of acting without the need for external validation and without the impulse to justify themselves. I distinguish freedom from arbitrariness, from mere will, and from public gesture.

Freedom is not equivalent to the presence of rights. It does not arise from legal recognition, political conditions, or social guarantees. These parameters create external possibilities for action but do not determine its internal nature. Freedom is not a category of external space; it is a characteristic of a subject capable of autonomous decision-making and bearing responsibility for those decisions.

The notion of freedom is often substituted with the idea of arbitrariness. Yet arbitrariness requires no effort – it is a product of impulse, inertia, or inclination. Freedom presupposes the existence of choice, but choice alone does not render an action free. It becomes free only when the subject is aware of the consequences and accepts them as their own.

In this context, freedom is linked not to possibility, but to readiness. Readiness to act without external justification and without internal self-justification. It begins at the moment when a decision is made not in anticipation of approval or understanding, but as an expression of a position that requires no verification. A free act is not explained – it registers the measure of the subject’s maturity.

Freedom requires discipline. Abandoning discipline in favor of self-expression is not liberation, but a form of dependence on the arbitrary. To be free is not to follow the first impulse, but to pause, distinguish, evaluate, and assume responsibility for the consequences. It is not an act of negation, but a form of consent to the necessity of being the cause of one’s own action.

Immaturity does not reject freedom, but it cannot sustain it. It requires structure, external sanction, or a moral referent. In conditions of uncertainty, the immature subject tends either toward submission or withdrawal. Both options exclude freedom as action within the bounds of personal responsibility. Therefore, freedom is possible only where the subject can bear the consequences without delegating blame.

Freedom is not a collective state. A collective may provide conditions for choice, but it cannot guarantee the maturity of each participant. Freedom is indivisible. It exists within each consciousness as the capacity for action independent of validation. In this sense, freedom is always individual, and therefore always entails risk.

Discussions of freedom often focus on power, politics, or economics. Yet in the philosophical sense, freedom is an anthropological category. It concerns the structure of the subject, not the structure of society. Changes in institutions do not generate freedom where the internal capacity to bear it is absent.

Thus, freedom is not a condition of possibility, but a form of maturity. Not a position, but a tension. Not a right, but a choice exercised in the absence of external protection. Not a gesture, but an action for which the subject assumes the consequences. Where this is possible, there is freedom. Where it is not, there is only reaction, submission, or flight.

Processed People

In this essay, I analyze the phenomenon of so-called «processedness» as it appears in language, behavior, and professional environments. My interest is not psychological but structural: how a behavioral model, presented as maturity, substitutes reflection with automatism, and participation with controlled distance. I aim to show why culturally «processed» people are often the least capable of action, and to distinguish genuine inner work from its verbal simulations.

The word «processed» has established itself in contemporary speech as an independent marker of human completeness. It emphasizes an allegedly traversed path – inner, emotional, psychic. It is used confidently, as a diagnosis or a certificate of maturity. Yet closer inspection reveals that behind this word lies less reflection than behavioral standardization. Processedness, in its mass usage, is not internal transformation, but a regular demonstration of manageability.

A typical «processed» person speaks evenly, looks calm, refrains from sharp reactions, and frames their detachment as a boundary. They employ standard formulas: «I do not take on others’ problems,» «I am in contact with myself,» «It is important for me to preserve my resources,» «I do not go where I am unsafe.» These formulas are socially validated, instill trust, and create an appearance of stability and responsibility. But in most cases, they do not signify maturity – they signify minimal engagement.

What externally appears as emotional equilibrium often masks an incapacity for tension. A person who calls themselves processed may not be mature, but simply well-trained in a behavioral model approved within psychotherapeutically oriented environments. This model requires no internal depth. It requires correct speech. And this is its problem.

Processedness, devoid of substance, becomes a new form of normativity. It leaves no room for impulse, risk, conflict, pain, or doubt. All complexity is immediately interpreted as immaturity. If you are irritated, you are «projecting.» If you argue, you have «triggered a pattern.» If you care, «that is your story.» Consequently, any form of living reaction becomes suspect. Anything outside protocol is reduced to «unprocessed.»

Thus arises a secondary language, unrelated to thinking. It does not investigate – it classifies. It does not engage with what is – it immediately labels. It is a language of psychological bureaucracy, where every emotional phenomenon is packaged into an explanation and loses its density.

In this environment, the «processed» emerge as socially convenient. Yet they are often the least capable of action. Not because they are weak, but because they refuse everything associated with internal tension, disruption, and uncertainty. Where quick decisions are required, where there is no emotional safety, where control cannot be maintained, the processed person falters. They withdraw, close off, distance themselves – and call it a boundary. They will not enter open conflict, even if it is necessary. They will not engage in a tense dialogue, preferring «not to get involved.» They cannot endure prolonged uncertainty – because any disturbance of stability represents a «threat to resources.» Within a team, they inspire trust – until action under risk, crisis, or instability is required. Then they disappear – physically or psychologically. Intellectual and moral self-exclusion takes place, framed as self-respect.

The processed person is not toxic. But they are sterile. Their behavior is predictable, not deep. Their speech is smooth, not precise. Their actions are safe, not decisive. They replace thinking with emotional correctness, effort with methodical execution, inner reflection with verbal automatism. They do not destroy, but they do not create. They are embedded. Balanced. Harmless. And that is their central problem.

Truly processed people are not those who avoid involvement, but those who can be present under tension and not evade it. They are not those who have constructed boundaries, but those who know when to violate them. They are not those who have «worked through everything,» but those who can be in conflict with themselves – and continue to act. They are not protected. They are not stable. But they answer – not with words, but with deeds. Not to the system, but to their own conscience.

Genuine processedness is not a set of regulations. It is a way of being in a living, contradictory, unbalanced reality – without detachment, without façade, without schema. It is not about appearing even. It is about sustaining tension and resisting the simplification of oneself into the correct word.

Russia. Those Who Do Not Give Up

I am not interested in the external representation of Russia, but in what sustains it in reality: the people who continue to do their work – calmly, without pathos, without seeking recognition. I write about participation without rhetoric, about loyalty without naivety, and about that form of inner resolve on which everything truly rests.

The state can be described. Power can be evaluated. Symbolism can be reflected upon. But the country itself, as experience, as presence, as the field of everyday responsibility, cannot be fully defined. It does not coincide with what represents it. It is not exhausted by what is said about it.