One of the many jokes about the absurdities of Soviet life during the Brezhnev era of stagnation involved two men who, encountering a restaurant closed for their lunch break during the peak lunch hour, find a pseudoreasonable and optimistic explanation for the closing. While the first Russian explains, "It is normal, Grigori," the other adds, "It is perfect, Konstantin."
This joke applies equally well today to those defenders of Russia's current situation in Moscow or Washington who often suggest that almost everything in Russia is "normal." Indeed, most Russians now accept many aspects of their lives--aspects that they would have found unacceptable 10 years ago--as "normal."
Of course, there are different interpretations of normality in Russian life. According to Russian sociologists, the Russian electorate can be divided into three almost equal groups. For the "first third," which is made up of supporters of the current regime, the term normal, even if describing such ugly developments as racketeering or the decline of agriculture, has an almost positive connotation. It suggests that Russia, as a "normal society of the Western type," must suffer all these phenomena as the "normal price" to be paid in exchange for the advantages of liberal capitalism.
Such a "positive" approach to Russia today is often justified with a reference to America where, in the opinion of "normalizers," the same negative phenomena occur--if not now, then at least at some point in the past. Well-educated Russian businessmen who I interviewed were sure, for instance, that racketeering is as widespread throughout the United States as it is in Russia, and that the evasion of taxes in America is no less severe than in Russia. They even believe that the collusion between government officials and companies in Russia is normal by American standards.
A significant number of Russians, mostly from the "second third"--those who endorsed the 1991 anticommunist revolution and accept the ensuing societal changes as irreversible--apply the term normal to various negative developments in Russia in another context. They are furious about many changes in the country, especially the criminalization of society, but they imply that these events are unavoidable, at least in Russia, and must be taken for granted as a sort of natural disaster. Instead of fighting such vagaries, they suggest adjusting to the inevitable circumstances of life, such as the delay in the payment of salaries or the corrupt bureaucracy. In contrast, the "third third" are those who support economic reforms but dislike President Boris Yeltsin's regime.
Most Russians are inclined to see their economic situation as "normal." In fact, only 23 percent think that the economy is "in crisis." Russian society supposes that it is normal that the main source of national revenue is the export of oil, natural gas, and other raw materials. Meanwhile, the lion's share of consumer goods is of foreign origin.
Few Moscow intellectuals are shaken by the fact that one-third of the entire Russian budget comes from the customs service, or by the fact that injections of cash from international financial organizations have become a "normal" part of the same budget. It is equally normal that dollars circulate as a national currency and that newspaper advertisements indicate prices of goods in American "bucks." It is already normal that ordinary people, including small to mid-sized businesspeople, avoid using banks. Instead, they keep their savings under their mattresses or they quickly spend their income on consumer goods if it is not possible to transfer their money abroad.
Only a few of the Russians I met in Moscow and in the provinces during the summer of 1996 considered it abnormal that most young, successful, intelligent, and educated people, many with doctorates in natural science and engineering--people who are the country's most valuable human resources--are engaged in petty commercial activities. Only an insignificant number are involved in innovative production. Russians also do not make much noise among themselves about the gradual deindustrialization of the country as many enterprises with sophisticated technology either are closed or are struggling to survive, losing their most skilled workers and engineers.
The crucial role of the so-called shuttlers (chelnochniki) in the Russian economy is also regarded as "normal." About 10 million young and middle-aged people regularly visit neighboring countries (mainly China, Turkey, and Poland) in order to bring back in their personal luggage goods they can sell on the Russian market. It is as if Russia still lives in a feudalistic society, or even earlier when professional merchants who did not carry their goods on their backs were unknown. It is difficult to find another country that operates its foreign trade as Russia does. Shuttlers have become such a normal element of the Russian landscape that airports and railway stations (and their counterparts in neighboring countries) cater to them.
Russians already take for granted that many people, especially those in Moscow, hold three or four jobs with clear evidence that they cannot excel in any one of them individually. What is more, the regular delay in the payment of salaries and pensions is, of course, extremely painful for millions of Russians. These Russians would hardly exclaim, "It is normal, Sergei," "It is perfect, Konstantin."
But Russians have even managed to adjust to receiving their paychecks irregularly. Many can survive on their private plots, which provide them with a basic supply of food. Others earn some money in trade and many families can stumble through on their older parents' pensions, since the delay with pensions is much rarer than it is with salaries.
It is even more peculiar that the term normal is applied to the many enterprises that pay their workers in kind, meaning that their salaries are the products they have produced. In June 1996, I passed a train station close to Gus Khrustalnyi in the Vladimir region, where a world renowned crystal factory is located. To my amazement, but not to that of the other passengers and conductors, my train was attacked by dozens of women, children, and adult men, begging us to buy the perfect, beautiful glasses that they had received instead of their regular salaries.
Payment in kind can be found throughout the country. One-third of the exchanges between enterprises is in the form of barter, or the exchange of products in kind instead of money. While I was visiting Cheboksari, the capital of the republic of Chuvashia, I was told that the local television stations received agricultural and other products from their clients in return for airing commercials. The fact that hundreds of large enterprises, which are almost all idle, still do not fire their unneeded employees is also considered a "normal" occurrence. Most economists have also ceased to be astounded that with all the economic reforms, Russia has yet to witness the bankruptcy of any large enterprises.
Russians do not lament, as they did only a few years before, many of the recent developments in the public services. They accept as normal that, in many hospitals, patients have to come with their own sheets and thermometers, and that those who are able must leave the hospital during the weekends. I did not hear any complaints about the radical changes in the style of vacationing. While a small minority, the so-called "new Russians" (about 2.5 million people in 1995), can afford vacations on the coasts of Turkey, France, or the Bahamas, many more Russians now have to spend their free weeks at home. This sharply contrasts with the Soviet period, when no fewer than two-thirds spent their vacations at seashore resorts, rest houses, and sanatoriums. I also did not note any displeasure about the fact that most Russians cannot afford to subscribe to periodicals in the numbers they were accustomed to in past decades. Russians were even used to the fact that soldiers in the army, even those who were on combat duty in Chechnya, are often hungry and beg for food among civilians.
Russian society has also almost stopped deploring the state of its sciences. Gone are the enraged articles on the brain drain, the flight of the best Russian scholars and graduate students abroad. Nobody in Russia is outraged that the main income of directors of research institutes stems from renting space in their buildings to various commercial and even criminal enterprises. It is also not easy to find a sign that Russians are concerned about the plight of libraries and other cultural institutions.
Even the nefarious demographic tendencies in Russia, such as the catastrophic decline in the average male's life expectancy, from 69 to 58, over the last five years, are rarely noted in the media. In fact, it is considered by some demographers as almost "normal"--a "natural result" of the processes that started many years ago and should be accepted as "given."
Russians have also grown accustomed to the criminal characteristics of many aspects of their lives. No more than one-third of all Russians regard crime as a "phenomenon arousing the alarm of society"--a figure no higher than the number of Americans concerned with this problem in their country, where only 17 percent are concerned about corruption as a specific crime.
The average Russian is not at all concerned about tax collection in the country. To hell with the fact that the government can get only 40 percent of the taxes due it! Moreover, Russians consider the almost complete evasion of taxes as "normal." Even Russian intellectuals, all champions of democracy, in the capacity of managers of various research firms, regularly evade taxes. Many even often ask their foreign clients to help them do it. Russian entrepreneurs, without fear, also tell their foreign visitors about their tricks in dealing with the tax agencies. In one of the most widespread practices, employers officially pay their workers only a fraction of their true salary (there is a heavy tax on the salaries employers pay), while the workers get free meals, gas, and other benefits under the table.
The close connections between business and criminal structures are also considered by most Russians as normal facts of life. Nearly every small to medium-sized business, as well as several large companies, has its own krysha or roof. A krysha is otherwise known as a criminal organization, which gets 10 to 20 percent of a business's profits in exchange for protecting it from other mafias. This krysha also offers the only real option to resolve disputes with clients who refuse to pay for delivered goods, or with companies that do not pay off their debts.
The krysha is now a normal institution, so organically a part of Russian life that many Russian businesspeople believe that there is no force in the country able to destroy it. Millions of young boys across the country who have been raised in Russia's new postcommunist society yearn to join these criminal structures in order to experience the "high life" without having to work at a nine-to-five job.
Russian society undoubtedly recognizes as "normal" the shadowy interactions between the government and big business, without having any idea exactly how much these politicians, bureaucrats, and businesspeople benefit from violating the law. Moreover, the Russian people believe law enforcement agencies are totally corrupt, seemingly associating such illegalities with natural disasters that are forever a part of their daily life. Russians do not trust their police and are sure that it is meaningless and often dangerous to solicit their help because of the many ties between the police and criminals.
Similarly, Russian businesspeople do not regard the courts as a forum in which grievances against their partners or the state could be settled. Russians are no longer amazed, or even angry, about the regular killing of businesspeople, politicians with business connections, and journalists. In the past, each such murder produced huge headlines in every organ of the media; now it merits but a mere mention somewhere in the press. Nobody is surprised that none of the murders in Russia performed by hired killers in the last three years have been successfully investigated and that none of the perpetrators have been apprehended.
Without speaking of the ineptitude and corruption of law enforcement bodies, each Russian, in his or her own style, has elaborated a strategy of behavior in case of an emergency, without relying on these public service bodies. It has become the norm in Russian life for rich people to be accompanied everywhere, including such mundane places as restaurants, hotels, and resorts, by their bodyguards. Large companies have well-developed security services headed by former KGB generals, and large corporate headquarters resemble fortresses, with gun-toting guards.
The acceptance by most Russians of many elements of the new situation in Russia as normal, in positive or negative terms, their unwillingness to hold any serious protest demonstrations between 1991 and 1996, and their endorsement in the 1996 election campaign of the regime, under which the economic and political might of the country evidently declined, cannot be explained away by the Kremlin's successful use of negative propaganda and its abuse of power, although both are important factors. Indeed, only a few years ago, in 1989 and 1990, Russians under a much less democratic regime voted for politicians against whom the entire might of the state apparatus was directed.
Accepting their life as normal, refusing to challenge the regime and even supporting it, Russians behave as "rational people" who, under the existing circumstances, do not see good solutions to various social issues and have decided that patience is the best strategy. (Russians were quite aware that none of the candidates during the 1996 election campaign were able to offer a realistic economic program or a means to fight corruption and crime.)
The inclination of many ordinary Russians to accept as normal the many sad facets of their lives, and even to endorse the regime directly responsible for their woes, has been dictated mostly by the conviction that any radical changes in their country, as well as any violent actions against the government, could bring only new disasters and lead to further deterioration of the present situation.
In this new Time of Troubles, Russians nurture a pessimistic outlook for the future, speaking of the "good life" to come 15 to 20 years from now. This pessimistic mood for the future can only confirm why Russians tend to accept life as it is now. It is the "second third" and the "third third" who look at the future with a special moroseness. At the same time, the "rational strategy" of adaptation to the present explains why there are indications of some weakening of pessimism in the country, despite the continuing deterioration of many aspects of social life.
In electing Boris Yeltsin president, Russians endorsed various pathological developments in Russian society and invited the Kremlin to continue the policies that were responsible for them. Yeltsin's election sent a signal to the political and economic elite that corruption and crime, the colonial character of the Russian economy, the country's technological decline, and many other negative developments are acceptable.
Yeltsin's regime is thus convinced that with some superficial patching, it can continue business as usual. The appointment of Anatoli Chubais in July 1996 as chief of Yeltsin's administration (and then as first deputy prime minister in 1997)--a man who is (correctly or not) to most Russians a symbol of the corruption and plundering of national resources by the nomenklatura and mafias--only confirms that Yeltsin correctly understood the nation's mandate.
Having observed the worldwide depression of the 1930s, the British economist John Maynard Keynes concluded in his General Theory of Employment, Interest, and Money that, contrary to the tenets of classical economic theory, and under special conditions, a capitalist economy can enter a state of stagnation and remain there for an indefinite period if there are no internal forces to move it away from this state. With various reservations, this Keynesian concept is useful for understanding contemporary Russian society, and not only the economy.
Because of its immense natural resources, Russian society has managed to adjust for the time being to the new conditions of life that emerged after the anticommunist revolution of 1991. However, stability in Russia is precarious. Of course, if the Russian economy should at last take off with the massive infusion of foreign and domestic investment, and if life in the country should also improve, the current regime will be able to perpetuate itself beyond Yeltsin. In this case, the alliance of the "first third" and the "second third"--which would mean the emergence of a true, large middle class--would be the basis of an order founded on a market economy and democracy for many years to come. The precarious equilibrium in the current state of stagnation would be replaced by a dynamic society, something akin to that found in the countries that have undergone their own economic miracle.
However, the endorsement by most Russians of the current state of affairs has created enormous obstacles to economic growth. Most conditions, which were extremely unfavorable for investment in the past, will hardly change radically with Yeltsin's reelection. Corruption, criminality, and the low morale of Russian businesspeople will continue over the next few years, as will the dominance of foreign producers and products on the Russian market. It is also unclear how much profit will be required to counteract the tremendous risks involved in making a long-term investment not only in the oil, gas, and mining industry, but in other sectors of the economy also.
The dearth of groups demanding radical changes should also be mentioned. The political and economic elites at the national and regional levels are satisfied with their fabulous revenues and therefore with the current economic situation. Thus, they do not see any serious reason to change existing conditions in order to increase investment. Along with the passivity of the masses and their reluctance to make any risky changes in Russia, there is a lack of powerful groups interested in calling for drastic reforms.
With all these considerations, it seems that the prospects for an economic chudo (miracle) in the next few years are not great, while the probability of a deteriorating economy is significant; shocks such as a financial crisis or a technological disaster are possible as well. In this case, the position of the "second third" would change and it would join the "third third" against the regime. At the same time, the number of radical elements in the "third third" would increase. Together, they would create a situation that would be used by the communist-nationalist opposition to its advantage. The opposition would try to gain the upper hand by ousting the Westernizers from the Kremlin. Then, with a strong dose of xenophobia and anti-Semitism, and with the television services under their control, it would be possible to restore the extremist nationalist ideology to the Russian mind, exploiting feelings of inferiority, feelings that are very strong in postcommunist Russia and that many Russians are trying to overcome with the new upsurge of anti-Western invective.
Under these conditions, it is likely that new elections, if they were to take place, would bring to power leftist radicals and nationalists. Once they came to power, this opposition would do everything possible to stay in the Kremlin. It is also impossible to exclude moves toward a civil war and other developments parallel to what happened in 1993, and which could have happened in 1996 on the eve of the presidential election.
The conditions for a political crisis could emerge if the political factions in Moscow are unable to find a peaceful solution in the transition from one leader to another, which could occur with Yeltsin's disappearance from the political scene. With too many political centers in the country and the growing role of the regional elite, political stability in Moscow is always in jeopardy.
How to assess the Russian people's adjustment to the harsh realities of their lives? Of course, the adaptation of people to changing conditions, materially and psychologically, is an essential condition of human survival, an iron law of evolution for all living creatures. However, even at the individual level, adjusting to a new reality is not always good in the long term. Is it "normal" for a young person to adjust to a criminal world if he or she is among criminals? For an entire society, the question is even more ambivalent. Of course, if we deal with a progressive development, such as the adaptation of people to the new information age, adjustment is clearly beneficial to society.
The situation is different for negative processes. The American upper and middle classes moved in the 1950s and 1960s from the inner cities to the suburbs to escape crime and drugs in large cities. But this process of adjustment led to the further deterioration of urban life in the United States, which many Americans have accepted as a normal fact of life, although it poses serious dangers for the nation as a whole.
Russians are adapting quickly to the new rules of the market economy and democratic freedoms. This development can only be greeted positively by Russians and the world. When, however, they accept as "normal" many negative and dangerous phenomena in their lives associated with these changes, is it as bad as the American adjustment to the negative aspects of their own lives?
It is especially sad that many Russian intellectuals, who should be challenging the adaptation of the political and economic elite and the Russian people to the "bad life," have joined the chorus of those for whom the phrase "C'est la vie" is a chief nugget of wisdom. The future of Russian democracy and prosperity demands that the Russian people--especially the intellectuals--objectively address abnormalities and critically assess life today. Russian intellectuals--and politicians--must end their tendency to justify Russia's abnormalities as "normal." Of course, lucid views on the developments in Russia do not guarantee the eradication of the country's problems, but they are an important first step to that end.
Vladimir Shlapentokh is a professor of sociology at Michigan State University. His books include The Russian Diaspora: Russian Minorities in the former Soviet Republics (Armonk, N.Y.: M. E. Sharpe, 1994) and Soviet Intellectuals and Political Power (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990).