In Russia, Notes From the Underground : Politics: Moscow’s subway commuters, stung by economic reforms, have a “Dear Boris” letter for their president.

Far below street level, Nikolai Makarov, a 43-year-old power lineman, complained as he made his way home from work on the Moscow subway that Russian President Boris N. Yeltsin’s version of democracy has taken Russia into an abyss.

“A year ago, I was totally behind Yeltsin. I dreamed of living in the kind of country he promised us,” Makarov said. “But his words did not translate into deeds. Now, I feel we have no future. We are going nowhere.”

In another train, Lena Badmaeva, 16, a student at the Moscow Food Industry Institute, said she and her friends pay no attention to the struggle for power between the reformist president and the conservative legislature because they do not believe any politician can change things for the better.

“If my opinion played a role, politics would be interesting to me,” Badmaeva said before climbing into a packed subway car. “But I’ve learned that no one cares what I think. So why do I need politics? Democracy is supposed to be power to the people, but we people have no power.”

If Yeltsin spent a few hours underground, chatting with his commuting countrymen, he might not feel confident of their support. In a bold initiative Thursday, Yeltsin called for a nationwide referendum to let Russians choose whether they want him or the Congress of People’s Deputies to lead Russia. The loser of the vote would have to stand for early reelection.

But after a stormy debate in the Congress, Yeltsin and its leaders reached a compromise Saturday allowing him to withdraw the proposal. Yeltsin acted after sympathetic deputies warned him that his calculations of victory were overblown.

In the Moscow subway, a massive network of ornate stations and tunnels that carries 6.5 million riders a day, the mood is troubled and often apathetic.

Twelve months after Yeltsin helped force the Soviet Union out of existence, many of his former supporters have turned on him or have changed their minds about whether democratic politics and free-market economics can make Russia a better place.

Yeltsin enjoyed tremendous popularity when he became Russia’s first popularly elected president in June, 1991, with 60% of the vote--none of his opponents captured more than 16%--and when he put down the hard-line coup attempt later that summer. But since then, prices have risen 100 times while most salaries have gone up 10 to 20 times.

In a recent poll by the Institute of Comparative Social Research, only 17.5% of Russians surveyed believed that Yeltsin is capable of leading the country out of the crisis.

At a pro-Yeltsin rally outside the Kremlin on Thursday, Zinaida Shabanova, 54, waved a tiny version of Russia’s tricolor flag and said that Yeltsin’s popularity is faltering because most of her compatriots have not yet grasped the value of their country’s new democratic system.

“The people don’t yet understand how important it is that the democrats win,” said Shabanova, a retired teacher who gauges the opinion of her fellow Russians as she rides on public transportation. “The people I talk to on the trolley and bus know nothing about politics and do not realize that democracy is something precious that they should protect.”

In the subway, passengers seemed most concerned about trying to protect themselves against the reforms, which are aimed at quickly pulling Russia toward a free-market economy.

“I don’t know how the reforms have been for our country, but they have been horrible for me,” said Yuri G. Iozenas, 46, an unemployed mining engineer. “I was educated by our government for 29 years, and now I’m not needed.

“This is what someone with a doctoral degree wears in the new Russia,” he added, pointing to his worn boots with holes at the seams as he sat on one of the hard subway benches.

A lifelong Communist who is still holding on to his party card, Iozenas said he has no time to worry about the struggle between the president and his opponents. “I’m not interested in politics,” he said. “I’m interested only in myself.”

The widespread apathy is a big change from three years ago, when Kremlin politics was the newest, hottest thing around. More than 200 million television viewers were glued to the live coverage of the Soviet Congress of People’s Deputies, the Soviet Union’s first Parliament chosen through a multiple-candidate election.

There are still some ardent followers of the twists and turns of Kremlin politics.

Svetlana Gulyaeva, 31, a chef, said she watches TV broadcasts on the Russian Congress daily to try to understand what is happening to her country.

“The fate of Russia is being decided, so I have to watch,” Gulyaeva said as she stood next to a statue of a mythic Soviet worker in the Revolution Square subway stop. “It’s very difficult to understand what the politicians are doing. I want everything to be good for Russia. I want to be able to work well and live well. But this new democracy of ours doesn’t seem to be helping.”

Despite their frustrations, most people interviewed in the subway said they do not want to turn the clock back, because the old Soviet system needed to be discarded. And while they heaped criticism on Yeltsin, few named anyone else they would like to see in his place. In the recent poll, Russians were also asked who they would vote for in a presidential election, and 70% answered, “Not for anyone.”

Although the general perception among passengers seemed to be that Yeltsin’s reforms have not helped the country, the signs of Russia’s new capitalism, a result of those reforms, are everywhere in the subway. Underground, in the 146 stations, people peddle everything from newspapers to the vouchers that have been issued to every citizen by the government to enable it to sell off state property.

One 21-year-old Muscovite, who stood at the side of an underground tunnel leading from one subway line to another, had a cardboard sign reading “I buy vouchers” sticking out of his bulky wool overcoat.

He quickly bought up vouchers with a stack of money equal to most people’s yearly earnings. When the money was gone, he flipped the sign over so it read, “I sell vouchers.”

“I don’t need any government,” the young man said. “I’m living great now without one.”