SOVIET UNION: Hard Times for Ivan

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Goofing off on the job is a way of life for an incalculable number of people, who are not impressed with being called the owners of the means of production. That is notably true of peasants, who still resent the imposed system of collectivized agriculture. The peasants concentrate their energies on their acre-size private plots, which constitute only 3% of the total farm acreage but produce 25% of the total agricultural output. Their productivity per acre is as much as eight times that of the government land. Farmers and industrial workers are notoriously careless of their machinery. Their indifference, combined with a chronic shortage of spare parts, has created what Kosygin has euphemistically called an "immobilization of equipment." Thus, despite the billions of rubles that have been poured into new agricultural machinery, the majority of Soviet peasants still work the land by hand.

The working man and particularly the working woman (85% of all working-age women have jobs) spend an inordinate amount of time tracking down scarce consumer goods. The ubiquitous mesh shopping bag is familiarly called an avoska, (perhaps) bag, meaning "Perhaps I'll find something to buy today, perhaps not." Although Moscow is by far the best-supplied city in the Soviet Union, TIME Correspondent Marsh Clark last week reported that "soap, toothpaste, perfumes, detergents, toilet paper, hairpins and matches were either of inferior quality or not available at all. The soaps don't clean, the mint-flavored toothpaste is harsh and repugnant, and the perfumes smell like overripe raspberries." The shortages are so commonplace that people will join any queue they see, then ask what it is for. Near Red Square recently, Clark spotted a crowd jostling about a man selling something at a table. As the eager buyers got nearer, they saw that the choice item on sale was an English-language textbook entitled Animal Physiology.

Items imported from East bloc countries, which are nearly always made better than their Soviet counterparts, can cause near riots when placed on sale in department stores. Even foreknowledge of their availability is worth money. Clark tells about a Muscovite who recently visited the flea market in the Ukrainian city of Odessa. Hearing a man calling, "I'll sell one sentence for a ruble," the intrigued Muscovite inquired what the sentence could be. "For a ruble, I'll give you some valuable information," replied the hawker, who got his ruble and then whispered, "Imported panty hose will be sold at 10 a.m. tomorrow on the second floor of the Central Department Store."

Along with shortages, there are bizarre examples of superabundance. Because of poorly coordinated planning and lack of inventory control, goods may suddenly appear in inappropriate profusion. Tiny commissaries on collective farms that carry only the barest necessities of life may suddenly receive shipments of silk neckties or Italian vermouth. A decade ago there was a glut of condoms, which Russians casually used as bottle caps and garters. Because of a current rubber shortage, prophylactics can scarcely be found in Moscow today. Consumer demand for goods may be met too enthusiastically or too late. State-run factories are producing millions of women's platform shoes and stretch boots, which were in demand three years ago.

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