I've
been a broadcaster for more than a quarter of a century, first for the
BBC's Russian Service (Bush House) and then the Russian Service of
Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (Munich, Prague). As a rule I'm
surrounded by thinking, creative people. Many of them are
the flowers of their national culture: outstanding poets, directors,
essayists. In "normal" countries a radio station is not the focus of
such a gathering of "stars". But I was born in a country which does not
count among the "normal". Alongside me are people from other "abnormal"
countries, countries where freedom is severely restricted or even
completely lacking. The result is that I am surrounded by historical
losers, regardless of the personal success any of my colleagues may
have achieved. I now look with a feeling of deep nostalgia at the BBC
and Radio Free Europe/Liberty foreign language broadcast services that
come from the "normal" world. The first to go were the Hungarian, Pole
and Czech Services, then the Estonians, Lithuanians and Latvians. The
most recent departures were the Bulgarian and Romanian Services. I feel
like a person who has had to repeat a class, no, repeat a century or
maybe even a millennium. What saves me from depression is a language I
have discovered and fallen in love with: the language of radio. In my
trade I am concerned first and foremost with sounds and their sequence.
Drama, dramatic effect is born on radio when sounds collide, rub noses,
give each other a slap. Radio language is wider, richer, more
full-bodied than any spoken tongue. With it you can convey ageing,
erotic excitement, the approach of madness, dying. I have no interest
in describing culture. But to create and blow culture like glass is
thrilling. To me radio is an art. Radio and poetry live in the same
element - air. So for more than a quarter of a century the ground under
my feet has been the element of air. A free element.