THERE ARE BANS AND THERE ARE BANS

Speculation about what bans could lead to found me recalling the following story. Strolling along the boulevard in Baku, an Englishman, who had come to the capital on business, was told quite plainly that in our country, after a long day at the office, one should not sit on the grass. "Why not?" our visitor from Foggy Albion wondered. It was clear that the foreigner wanted very much to kick up a stink but his inherent British sensitivity prevented him from doing so. He merely threw his arms up, saying that in his country this was the normal thing to do, because he'd had a busy day, and in the spring and summer people looked forward to sitting on the grass under a tree at the end of the day. Our British businessman had a blanket in his rucksack for this very purpose which he laid on the grass and dozed for an hour or so. "A lot of people do that in our country because it is part of our park culture. And on Sundays lots of families have picnics in town and university parks because they don't have time to go out into the country and be with their families. We make our own nature in our parks. Many parks in Britain also have notices which say 'Please walk on the grass'. We are only forbidden to walk on the grass if it is private property," the stranger explained. I thought to myself: what is surprising here is not the "permissive nature" of the sign which in Baku would have more likely have been "One may walk on the grass", but the invitation to do so.  

Truth to tell, it had to be pointed out somehow to our visitor that Baku was a dry city, that it is very difficult and expensive to cultivate lawns in our country, because they need a lot of looking after and require watering and fertilizer. "In that case, why bother to grow lawns, you can decorate the city with more low-maintenance, ornamental plants," the practical Englishman said, noting that the basic function of the lawns was not their ornamentation, but the fact that it was possible to rest on them. And if they don't serve that purpose then there's no point in planting them.

Of course, it is hard to agree with such a dogmatic attitude, because from the aesthetic point of view, lawns do have a great relevance for a city, but if one were allowed to lay on them they would lose their value. Why, indeed, are you not allowed to walk on the grass in Baku?

We put this question to the Baku municipal parks department. There R+ was told that one is not permitted to walk on the lawns in Baku because the people working in this department spend a lot of time and energy planting them and getting them into shape, not to mention the fact that one square metre of lawn costs about AZN 15. "Lawn care is a very complex business in Baku because of the hot climate. For example, if you water them in the evening they will stay wet overnight, which is categorically the wrong thing to do - excess moisture leads to grass disease. Therefore, they need to be watered either early in the evening or in the morning, so the grass has time to dry out. Watering at midday leads to the water evaporating and it can't get to the roots. Everything has its own nuances. And what do you think, should people be allowed to walk on the grass after this? If they did, they would soon spoil it." When it was pointed out that all this effort should not be perceived as too time-consuming, because the "planters" are only doing their job, and doing it first and foremost for the people, the departmental employee replied that Britain's climate cannot be compared with that on the Abseron Peninsula. "But you can walk on the grass in Dubai!" The parks department employee ignored this and had nothing else to say about the ban on walking on the lawns. And although we were not far from the truth when we explained to the stranger why there is a ban on walking on the grass in Baku, this truth in itself cannot be seen to be convincing. If lawns are planted and regularly tended there is nothing terrible in their being at the service first and foremost of the people; after all a lot of effort and energy is spent by the relevant structures on them whether people walk on them or not.

Most likely this ban is a vestige of our Soviet past which operates by force of inertia in all the countries of the former Soviet Union, just like many other bans for which there are no simple explanations. And what is the point of the museum sign which says: "Don't touch"? One can understand such a ban if it relates to very old exhibits and paintings. But what about objects that are virtually untouched by time? Clearly, museum staff should approach this question selectively, because it is absolutely impossible to explain this ban to a child who after first visiting such places for the first time won't want to come back again. At the same time museums play an immense educative role in a child's adaptation to society. At the press service of the Cultural Ministry we were told that this ban should not even be discussed because that's the way it is. All this is done to protect the exhibits. But why not create inter-active exhibits where visitors, especially the half that are children, can touch them, which would be a good solution to the situation with regard to museum bans? It should be pointed out that there are a great many inter-active museums in the world today, such as the Museum of Natural Sciences and Technology in Munich, the News Museum in Washington, the CosmoCaixa Science Museum in Barcelona, the Tech Museum in San Jose, the "Evrika" popular science centre in Finland, the Science Museum in London and the Exploratorium museum of science, art and human perception. For example, the Victoria and Albert Museum, the world's biggest museum of decorative and applied art and design, not only demonstrates but educates. Anyone interested can take any of several "digital courses", from the basics of photo-shop to computer design. At the latter they promise to teach the key methods of using figures in a creative environment. All this with the aid of the rendering of data, geometry and digital design. Visitors can also join an excursion "Behind the Scenes", where they can find out which technologies are used to preserve the exhibits and what it costs. The keeper of the sculptures talks about the various methods of "treatment", about what discoveries may be made by looking closely at a sculpture, and about the ethical problems which arise during a professional's job.

But the staff at the Exploratorium believe that the process of studying science is impossible without a cheerful playful approach. In the San Francisco museum they offer a special programme for the ultimate first date: you touch one another in a special "heat camera" and find out who is hotter, test a boy friend with a lie detector and find out the features of a future child. Another programme - "The Geek Walk" suggests hanging out in space: by correctly distributing one's strength one can place a satellite in a geostationary orbit. Then there are monitors writing sound-tracks for the museum, or the interweaving of coloured beams, in the truest sense of the word causing nausea among visitors.

One would very much hope that we could have such high-tech museums in Azerbaijan and perhaps this will happen some day however unrealistic this may seem. But, realistically, we can strive to ensure there are fewer unreasonable bans in our country. Only then can we start to understand that in whatever area people may be in they can do their job for the benefit of those they are supposed to serve.