Hell is others, said a French philosopher. And, it seems, he struck the Russian intellectual with this generally non-obvious thought to the very heart. Well, of course, we think of ourselves as people who are quite reasonable, positive and tolerant. But there are others, too.
They are not like that. They strive to do something only for their own benefit. They drive along the side of the road and throw out garbage on the go. They get up and fill the cabin while the plane is still rolling down the runway. They create traffic jams everywhere and vote for the wrong candidate with enviable tenacity.
They are different. What good can be expected from them?
Several years ago, I was suddenly called to the jury. Some wheel of the judicial machine turned and threw out an envelope with a summons to the Moscow Regional Court. A couple of months before that memorable letter, I watched «12» by Nikita Mikhalkov. The film made a mixed impression on me. First of all, because the characters were shown so bright, talkative and at the same time narrow-minded. In general, I thought and decided to stand up for the honor of the jury.
At the first meeting, everything was very similar to the film. The most different adults and calm people. Men and women, poor and wealthy, who consider themselves obligated and those who are simply not ready to refuse a request to the state. There was only one thing in common — the confusion of all these others. A shy taxi guy, an imposing businessman, an activist in a housing cooperative, a polite music teacher on the verge of retirement.
In the second session, I saw people at the big table begin to open up. Mikhalkov was wrong. Common cause and common responsibility. Yes, it happens.
Luckily, everyone can take a step aside just by talking to someone else.
Layer after layer, the husks of stereotypes flew off each. I saw those sitting at the oval table serious and real. They sympathized, tried to find logic. They were looking for inconsistencies in a complex, large and difficult process. They argued and discussed for hours. And most importantly, even those who wanted to quickly pay off their debt suddenly stopped rushing and began to figure out what really happened there.
These same «others» before our eyes, from session to session, turned into kind, reasonable and conscientious people. No, of course they didn’t. Simply, being locked in one room, they, that is, we, began to behave as they considered correct and real.
At some point they stopped competing in deduction and observation. We recalled the circumstances, the faces of the victims and talked. As a result, these eleven other people and I were much more understandable to each other.
The case ended and the defendant received a life sentence for a series of murders near commuter train stops. We exhaled and parted ways. We haven’t seen each other for five years now. And it is unlikely that we will ever see — the reason for getting to know each other was very unpleasant and difficult. Yes, and there was no acquaintance as such, only a common responsibility for someone else’s life. There was work, trust, and the inability to leave the room without an agreement.
There were — others, became — understandable. And by the way, I understood more about hell. This is not a sentence, this is distrust. Luckily, anyone can take a step aside just by talking to someone else.