(2 of 4)
Sometimes I think bitterly: What if the April Fool issue of Pravda published a party and government resolution calling for a campaign against sobriety? I'm sure that "faithful soldiers of the party" would immediately organize "large meetings of the workers" in support of this "historic decision." Brave highway patrolmen would enthusiastically start taking away the driver's licenses of all drivers who did not reek of vodka. I can imagine the show trials of nondrinkers, the denunciations of party members observed amorally drinking mineral water in restaurants.
The first method of slowing down perestroika is sabotage in the guise of support. The second is stifling with embrace. The idea of fighting alcoholism, correct in principle, has been stifled by delighted embrace and ruined by distorted, hypocritical enthusiasm. A bottle of white lightning can poison a man. A bottle of good wine can be a good dinner companion. But our wine production was automatically curtailed; precious vineyards were ruthlessly chopped down. Alcoholism is a socially dangerous condition that must be treated punitively, but who has the right to take away from a man who is not an alcoholic his right to a mug of beer after work, his glass of natural wine or champagne?
Why did the entire nation become suspected of being alcoholics and, after waiting in other humiliating queues, have to queue up for even more hours? The reason is our tolerance of mindless execution of all decisions. Not only time and mental health are destroyed in queues: people are destroyed. The first harsh anti-alcoholism measures came as positive shock therapy. But you can't have daily social shock therapy; the society's nervous system will collapse, revealing many unexpected ulcers.
The campaign against alcoholism has been turned into a campaign against legal vodka, legal wine, legal beer. State vodka and wine, whose quality has dropped in recent years but still must meet government standards, have yielded to moonshine made out of the devil knows what, including lotions and callus removers. I admit that, chilled to the bone one night in Kamchatka, I had a shot of the local moonshine made from tomato paste. The next day my feet were swollen with arthritis so painfully I wanted to howl. The doctor who gave me an injection made an accurate diagnosis: "Our famous tomato brew."
How can we be surprised that sugar is suddenly scarce? It was bound to disappear. And shouldn't society as a whole, you and I, and not just the government, have foreseen this? Society needs not just farseeing people but also foreseeing people. The only democratic society is the one that feels it governs from bottom to top -- and is not governed by the top, awaiting its commands and then blaming it for all mistakes. Passivity's capitulating slogan is "I'm just a little person; what can I do?" But if you justify your cowardice by saying you can't do anything, then you can't complain and you can't whine either. We are killing perestroika with civic temerity, waiting by the sidelines to see which side wins.