6 Love Letters to Russia - 5 - C. e. gatchalian

Dear Russia, You are the country of Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, of Chekhov and Stanislavsky, of Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich, Prokofiev and Rachmaninoff. Of Pavlova and Nureyev. Of Eisenstein and Tarkovsky. Of some of the greatest art and artists the world has ever known. That's the first thing that comes to mind when I think of Russia. Art is generous. Art is expansive. Art is both achingly precise and limitlessly universal. Above all, art is empathic. It's about being able to see the world from someone else's eyes. In Anna Karenina, one of my all-time favourite novels, Kitty, who has decided to marry Vronsky, must reject the marriage proposal of Levin. As she enters the room where Levin awaits her, she suddenly stops feeling like an attractive, nubile woman desired by two men and puts herself in the shoes of her rejected suitor. Morality commences the moment you see yourself as a minor character in someone else's story. Dear Russia, I ask you to go deep into your wellspring of empathy, because I know you have plenty of it: for only a country with a huge heart and a great capacity for empathy can produce art as great and profound as what you have produced. For just one moment please imagine yourself as a *** person in your country: waking up every morning, terrified for your job, your security, in some cases, even your life, simply because of who you are. Is this something you would wish for yourself or for your children? Dear Russia, Often in an instant, empathy alone can break us free from the shackles of myopia and prejudice and make us more understanding, more compassionate human beings. These are the lessons I learned from reading Tolstoy and Chekhov. Both great artists, and both Russian. Dear Russia, and dear Nigeria, dear Uganda, dear Jamaica, and every other country where *** people are currently being persecuted, I love you. Chris