If we Russians intend to build a multipolar world, then every civilization must have its own kind of Oscar, an award for best performances, best screenplay, best music, and best costumes.
Many are aware that India has something called Bollywood, its own film industry. They have their own awards and their own heroes, who might be completely unknown in the West or even in neighboring China. But for their civilization (and India is practically an entire continent), these films and their Oscars are of enormous importance.
The same goes for China. There are Chinese films and actors who are completely unheard of in other countries, yet they are immensely popular within China. This is because China and India are independent civilizations, with their own unique film traditions. And today, this has become a civilizational factor.
We Russians also need to establish our own Eurasian award. But to do this, we must develop our own distinct and original cinema. And for that, culturally talented, brilliant individuals must take the lead in Russia’s cultural processes. Russians, of course, in the cultural sense.
A wonderful example of a truly extraordinary talent, recognized and appreciated for what it is, is Valery Abisalovich Gergiev.1 An ethnic Ossetian, he knows and feels Russian culture, Russian art, and the Russian spirit better than many in Russia — perhaps better than anyone.
“A genius with a magic baton,” they say of Maestro Valery Gergiev.
To organize a proper Russian Oscar, we need talents of the same caliber in our film industry. Yes, we have talented actors, and even some remarkable directors, but we lack a complete and distinct Russian film industry.
For instance, there are many countries around the world that have local philosophers but lack a unique philosophical tradition. Similarly, some countries produce films, and therefore have actors and directors, but no distinct cinematic tradition.
This happens because the cultural code is not conceptualized or understood. And because there is not enough concentration of passionate individuals and geniuses who could form a creative circle, as happened in the 19th century when Russian classical music emerged around the “Mighty Handful,”2 or when the culture of the Russian Silver Age3 was born.
Today, however, everything is fragmented. Even when Valery Gergiev stages a new production, it only receives formal reviews. The deeper meaning of what the maestro is trying to convey is almost never discussed — neither in federal media nor in Telegram channels, where people argue endlessly over trivial, often vulgar matters.
Thus, for us to become a country with a full-fledged civilizational cinema, we must first learn to seek out and support true geniuses. We need to gather them into a kind of club, a circle of geniuses, however small, where they will have every opportunity to thrive. A place where true philosophers interpret the works of true artists, and true actors take guidance from true masters.
Currently, however, our creative sphere is clogged with layers of rubbish accumulated during the Soviet and post-Soviet liberal periods. As a result, our creative intelligentsia is largely mediocre, with rare exceptions like Gergiev, Bashmet, and a few others.
We shouldn’t aspire to have our own Oscar as a benchmark — we must create our own civilizational art.
Only when we focus on this can we develop a proper, civilizational form of art, including cinema. For now, as I repeat, we have individual geniuses, but we lack art itself. So, instead of celebrating the nomination of this or that talented actor, especially those working in the West, for an Oscar, we should focus on this.
By the way, besides Bollywood, there is now Nollywood — the Nigerian film industry. We look at it in horror and wonder what it is, but many people enjoy it. In fact, in some African countries, even military conflicts have paused for the release of a new Nigerian film series about events and tribal dynamics that seem completely incomprehensible to us. Filipino cinema is another example — unique and original.
It is crucial for us to nurture the diversity of our multipolar world. We should not aim for the Oscar but rather create distinctive civilizational film contests to strip the collective West of its monopoly in global cinema. And if we finally recognize the unique, deep foundations of Russian aesthetics, we will evaluate our actors, musicians, artists, and poets based on whether they align with our cultural code or not.
The pseudo-cultural froth that currently dominates our scene clearly does not align with any cultural code. It is merely the periphery of the West, which is why we are desperate to gain recognition in the West at all costs — as servile imitators of our masters. With rare exceptions, this is not art but a form of obsequious mimicry.
That is why I believe participation in the Oscars — dominated by the liberal Western agenda — would only make sense if Trump secures his hold on power and traditional values come to dominate Western festivals. If we develop our own distinct cinema, then we might compete on the basis of shared traditional values.
Will we live to see the day when traditional values dominate Western film festivals?
But as of now, we do not have a cinema that reflects our traditional values. This is because certain people, who have seized control of the cultural sphere, act like clots in a blood vessel, blocking the flow of genuine cultural development in Russia. They attempt to censor and direct creative output, but they are so petty, insignificant, and incompetent that the result is a pathetic, unappealing picture — especially when mediocrity tries to censor talent.
In the Russian Empire, by contrast, censors were outstanding philosophers, thinkers, and publicists — such as Konstantin Leontiev. Censorship is a very delicate matter. One must be able to recognize genius, even when it does not fit neatly into rigid frameworks. At the same time, one must also identify and suppress harmful trends, which are not always immediately obvious.
Censorship is a high art. In short, what we need most today is to stop the dictatorship of mediocrity, which has taken root in Russia over the past decades.
(Translated from the Russian)
Alexander Dugin’s books can be purchased here.
Footnotes
Valery Gergiev, born in Moscow in 1953 to Ossetian parents, is a distinguished conductor and opera director. In December 2023, he was appointed artistic director of the Bolshoi Theatre, becoming the first person to lead both the Mariinsky and Bolshoi Theatres simultaneously. Gergiev’s connection to Russian culture is profound. He has been instrumental in promoting Russian music and artists on the global stage, championing young talents like soprano Anna Netrebko and reviving lesser-known Russian operas such as Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Invisible City of Kitezh and Prokofiev’s Betrothal in a Monastery.
The “Mighty Handful,” also known as “The Five,” was a group of 19th-century Russian composers — Mily Balakirev, César Cui, Modest Mussorgsky, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, and Alexander Borodin — who united in the 1860s to develop a distinct national style of classical music, free from Western European influences.
The Russian Silver Age refers to a vibrant cultural period spanning from the late 19th century to the early 20th century, approximately 1890 to 1917. This era witnessed an exceptional flourishing of Russian poetry, literature, and the arts, marked by the emergence of various artistic movements, including Symbolism, Acmeism, and Futurism. Prominent figures of this time include poets such as Alexander Blok, Anna Akhmatova, Boris Pasternak, and Marina Tsvetaeva. The Silver Age is often viewed as a renaissance of Russian cultural life, comparable to the Golden Age of the early 19th century. However, this creative explosion was curtailed by the Russian Revolution of 1917 and the subsequent political changes, which led to increased censorship and repression, bringing an end to this remarkable period in Russian cultural history.
