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I recently watched a concert video of one of my favorite
Russian singers performing in St. Petersburg. What struck me immediately was
how different the atmosphere was from the typical rowdy concerts we often
see on television—no wild pushing, no screaming chaos. Instead, it resembled
more of a dignified classical performance.
As the camera moved through the audience, I noticed something remarkable:
the concert hall was packed, yet there was only one security guard, who also
happened to be the singer’s bodyguard. It made me wonder—had this concert
been held elsewhere, would the crowd have been as composed? Would there have
been the same level of restraint?
The moment the singer appeared, the audience welcomed him with loud
applause, cheers, and whistles. But as soon as the music began, a hush fell
over the entire hall—as if someone had flicked off a switch. I was deeply
impressed by the Russian audience’s sense of decorum and their respect for
the performance.
One of the most memorable moments came when the singer started performing an
old hit, *Komarovo*. To my surprise and delight, everyone—young and old—sang
along in unison. Energized by their response, the singer stepped down from
the stage to mingle with the crowd. His bodyguard followed, clearly on
alert. But his concern proved unnecessary. Aside from the lucky person who
was handed the microphone, no one rushed forward or tried to grab attention.
They stayed seated, smiling and clapping in appreciation. The audience’s
restraint and orderliness amazed me.
I began to wonder: were there fans hoping for autographs? The camera soon
showed the answer. After the concert ended, people formed an orderly line
outside the theater to wait for autographs. Not a single argument broke out.
Snow fell quietly outside the Winter Palace Theatre, wrapping the evening in
a kind of poetic peace.
I was deeply moved by the civility of the Russian audience. In any public
gathering, there is always a tension between emotion and self-restraint. To
hold back excitement, to follow rules even when your heart races—that
requires more than just patience; it demands character. This kind of culture
nurtures virtues that are too often overlooked: thoughtfulness, discipline,
respect, and gentleness. And even if it means waiting a little longer to get
what we want—like an autograph—when everyone acts with civility, the reward
feels more meaningful, more earned.
I was reminded of a quote by Russian writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn:
“The simple act of an ordinary brave man is not to take part, not to support
lies! Let that come into the world and even reign over it, but not through
me or you.”
To me, this concert was a quiet but powerful example of that principle. The
highest, most beautiful, and yet most ordinary bloom in the garden of the
human spirit is civility. And in St. Petersburg that night, it was in full
bloom. |
