To help us answer this question, we invited Filip Poutintsev, a writer and translator of philosophy books.
So, are physical books still a thing?
For many people, books will always hold a special place. There is a certain nobility in books that cannot be replicated on a digital screen. Once, a book was one of the most treasured possessions a person could own. Its value wasn’t measured in monetary terms, but in the intellectual power it provided. While books today can be quite inexpensive, the discovery of a rare book brings with it a sense of magnificence. A book is not merely a stack of paper; it is so much more. It serves as a portal to another world, one that can only be accessed through intelligence and imagination. This exclusivity is what makes it special; it’s not for everyone, and that is a good thing.
What books do you like yourself?
I have a particular appreciation for old books, especially those written before the 20th century. Over the past few decades, there’s been significant decline in the quality of published books. Many contemporary titles cater to commercial trends and focus on populist topics that an intellectual reader will not take seriously. These books are hardly worth the paper they’re printed on, as they fail to provide any substantial knowledge to their readers.
Why do you think this happened?
There has been a general decline in mental engagement since the end of World War II, which is compounded by the profit-driven nature of publishing houses. Publishers aim to sell more books to increase their profits. However, since most people prefer not to read complex intellectual literature, they have shifted towards producing low-quality literature. These easy-to-read books cater to the simple tastes of the general public.
Can you elaborate more?
If you read older books, you’ll notice a significant shift in intellectual discourse that occurred after World War I, with the effects fully realized by the end of World War II. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, there was tremendous optimism among intellectuals; many believed that humanity could achieve anything. The pace of scientific progress was remarkable. However, with the onset of World War I, people began to use this progress for destruction. Many intellectuals initially thought it was just a temporary lapse in judgment, but after World War II, all hope vanished. The anguish and existential crisis experienced by these thinkers were so profound that they ultimately withdrew from public life entirely.
And this is when ordinary people entered the academic field and began promoting their unconventional ideas. Fast forward to today, and you see how much the world of thought and public discussions has changed and degraded in the past +100 years.
That’s interesting. What do you think will happen next?
Progress typically moves in cycles, with ups and downs. Currently, we are in a dark age regarding ideas, ethics, and morals. However, this period will pass, and a new era of enlightenment will begin.
This is why, currently, humankind does not produce anything valuable in art, for example. We excel in technology, but that seems to be our only strength at the moment.
Sounds very depressing.
It is both true and not true at the same time. Every era has its advantages and disadvantages. Two hundred years ago, people lacked hot water and were vulnerable to infections and diseases. Today, we enjoy a level of comfort like never before, yet our souls are empty. Ultimately, each person makes their own choices. You can follow modern trends, or you can embrace timeless heritage and classic wisdom.
What would you suggest to a modern person to keep their soul alive?
To keep one’s inner life alive in a modern environment requires deliberate resistance. The surrounding culture is optimized for distraction, repetition, and emotional flattening. If a person consumes whatever is most visible and most promoted, their attention is slowly trained away from depth. What begins as entertainment becomes habit, and habit becomes inner emptiness.
A first step is restraint. Attention is not neutral. What you repeatedly watch, hear, and read shapes your inner vocabulary, your emotional range, and even the structure of your thoughts. Much of contemporary mass culture is designed to be instantly accessible and instantly forgettable. It fills time but leaves no residue. Reducing exposure to such content is not an act of elitism but an act of self-preservation. Silence and boredom are not enemies. They are conditions in which inner movement becomes possible again.
A second step is selectivity. Instead of consuming endlessly, choose carefully. Seek works that were not made to be quickly replaced. This applies to books, music, film, and ideas. Older works often demand more patience, but they repay that patience by expanding perception rather than narrowing it. Difficulty is not a flaw. It is often a sign that something is asking more from you than passive reception.
A third step is withdrawal from spectacle. Celebrity culture and constant commentary on public figures train the mind to live externally. They invite comparison, resentment, imitation, or admiration without substance. None of these cultivates inner strength. A person who lives inwardly does not need constant reference to famous lives to feel oriented. What matters is not who is visible, but what is true, coherent, and meaningful when no one is watching.
A fourth step is devotion to something specific. Not everything at once, not endless sampling, but one thing chosen seriously. This could be a philosopher, a scientific problem, a craft, a language, a historical period, or a form of art. Depth comes from sustained attention over time. When a person returns to the same material again and again, layers reveal themselves. This process restores continuity, which modern life tends to fragment.
A fifth step is active creation – writing, thinking, composing, or building something forces clarification. Creation exposes confusion and demands responsibility for one’s own ideas. Even private writing is enough. The point is not publication or recognition, but dialogue with oneself. A person who never formulates their own thoughts eventually thinks only in borrowed phrases.
The soul does not die suddenly. It weakens through neglect, noise, and substitution. Reviving it does not require escape from the modern world, but discernment within it. Choose fewer things. Choose them carefully. Stay with them longer. That is how inner life regains weight and direction.
