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Hope Dies When Myths Are Abandoned : Soviets: The breadth and depth of the people’s apathy and despair suggests much more turmoil ahead.

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<i> Vladimir Shlapentokh is a professor of sociology at Michigan State University. Before emigrating in 1979, he conducted polls for Pravda and other Soviet periodicals. </i>

When evaluating the current crisis in the Soviet Union, Western experts representing prestigious institutions such as the World Bank tend to concentrate on relatively concrete economic factors and their possible effects, while almost entirely disregarding the country’s social and political climate. As a result, when these experts submit their recommendations to Moscow, they find that their suggestions are considered Utopian, as were the suggestions of countless previous experts.

In fact, most Western economists fail to comprehend the depth of the current sociopolitical crisis. This confluence of such profound problems as the disintegration of the Soviet empire, plummeting morale and repudiation of the central government is unparalleled in Soviet history.

During previous periods of remarkable hardship, such as the civil war, collectivization and the great purges, the Soviet people clung to and were buoyed by their ideals. Even during the Brezhnev era, when belief in official ideology eroded markedly, most Soviet people still supported the major myths of socialism, such as the superiority of public property, central planning and Russian culture. Although the people abandoned the socialist dream of a “radiant future,” they nevertheless envisioned gradual improvements in their lives and in the lives of their children.

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During the early to mid-1980s, sociological data suggested that the Soviet people were as satisfied with their income, housing and jobs as were the American people, even though the objective standard of living was immensely higher in the United States. The Soviets, like the Americans, also tended to look at their lives through rose-colored glasses and ignore many of the harsh realities that faced them. Now, not only are they dissatisfied with their lives; they also tend to see current conditions as being worse than they truly are. All active, educated Soviet people, especially the young, dream of emigrating.

More important, the Soviet people have abandoned their social myths, which are necessary for the functioning of any stable society. Recent polls suggest that only a minority support any cohesive social program based on either socialist or liberal capitalist myths. Most believe that all programs will be ineffective and all available options are flawed. If the Soviets were familiar with American slang, they would say that they are in a Catch-22 situation.

In spring, 1989, the Soviet people flocked to the polls, actively supporting the liberals and spurning the apparatchiks and their socialist slogans. By December, 1990, the Soviets had become apathetic and indifferent, and supported neither socialist nor capitalist myths. In Leningrad, which just six months earlier had been at the forefront of the fight against communism, only 20% of the voters made it to the polls.

Even more important than voter passivity is the fact that the ideologues of every major political party have joined the ranks of the pessimists. The conservatives, for example, claim to be committed defenders of socialist principles, as those principles have developed in the Soviet Union. Yet, despite their Stalinist fervor and their broadsides against perestroika, they believe that the pure Stalinist model has failed, and many of them accept the inevitability of free-market mechanisms and at least partial privatization of Soviet society. The Russophiles, for their part, have yet to propose a program for the resurrection of the country, relying instead on abstract appeals for the restoration of religious values.

The most dramatic change has been in the mood of the liberals. They continue to believe deeply and sincerely in the superiority of the Western model of society, and the experience of the entire world is on their side. Yet they have almost totally lost their belief in the possibility of creating a liberal society in contemporary Russia.

Through their experience in Moscow, Leningrad and elsewhere, the liberals have discovered that running a local government successfully is more difficult than it appears. They are realizing, and are horrified by, the yearning of their comrades in arms for power and privileges, as well as their own inability to forsake personal ambition for the good of the cause. Finally, they are increasingly concerned with their declining popularity among the masses.

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In Moscow, it is almost impossible to find any politician, social scientist, journalist or writer who still believes that any effective social program can be implemented in the coming months. Mikhail Gorbachev’s lack of resolve, his regular shifts from one position to another and his inability to take radical steps in any area reflect not so much his personality, but rather the lack of any credible program for the salvation of the country.

Perhaps the goals sought by each of the programs--radical improvements in the economy, the preservation of the Soviet Union in one form or another, placating the army and the military-industrial complex while demanding major concessions from them--are mutually incompatible. It may be that the country’s future lies in the radical reformulation of its goals, which will likely be possible only under pressure from harsh, objective developments.

The continuing disarray and lack of ideological direction in the Soviet Union is likely to result in various negative developments, such as the resurgence of the army, new waves of emigration and an increase in the number of technological accidents. The situation in Lithuania has to be measured from this gloomy perspective. The West should be prepared for a long period of turmoil in the Soviet Union.

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