CONCLUSION - THE POST-SOVIET FUTURE
 
 
  
 		 Although there had begun to develop in the Soviet Union during its final years an appreciation for historic urban buildings and townscapes, since its collapse in 1991 and the subsequent struggle to restructure the economy of the new Russian state, funds which had previously been available for conservation work have disappeared and the architectural heritage is under threat once again. Tomsk is perhaps under greater threat of losing its identity as a greater proportion of its historic buildings are made of wood. Local support is vital if the distinctive streetscapes of Tomsk are to survive into the next millennium; presently there is an unwillingness to occupy the old wooden houses due to their generally run-down condition and lack of facilities (Pruzyn, 1988). Those wooden buildings which underwent restoration during the 1980s were converted to institutional uses; while their former residents were obliged to move to the mikrorayoni on the city’s outskirts. Such an approach to land use is clearly unacceptable in today’s post-Soviet society, and as Tomsk makes the transition from a command to a free-market economy, the challenge that its architects and planners face now is to learn how to operate in a new politics of urban development founded on market principles. 

What exists in post-Soviet cities today is a curious mix of the Soviet city, symbolised by its massive apartment suburbs; remnants of the pre-Soviet era, such as Bekunin Street in Tomsk or Svetlanskaya Street in Vladivostok; and the new market economy of the 1990s, reflected in the banks, offices and fast-food outlets springing up in many of the formerly drab city centres. Built form during this transition period is highly idiosyncratic and eclectic. Through a system of bribes paid both to bureaucrats and to organised crime for protection money, entrepreneurs test to the limit what private property extremes are allowed in the new land market. In the words of Reiner Jaakson: ‘Urban design ends up being but a haphazard collage of independent architecture which lacks aesthetic cohesion or functional rationality. This is urban design by default, created in the void left by a weakening state in the face of an ascendant marketplace’ (Jaakson, 1996 p336). 

Historic parts of Vladivostok and the conservation zones set up in the historic districts of Tomsk need to be protected from such uncontrolled development. A new urban plan is required for these cities which will respect their historic districts by means of design guidance promoting a robust form of architecture and based on existing building typologies. In Vladivostok, adaptive re-use has been made of pre-Revolutionary buildings, their restoration being paid for by foreign or joint-venture firms. In Tomsk, this approach must also be encouraged so that the new detached form of brick buildings now being erected in large numbers do not become as ubiquitous in the historic centre as the pre-fabricated housing blocks have become on the city’s periphery. 

The future of Tomsk’s remaining local and regional identity hangs in the balance as the city struggles to regain the prosperity that once was responsible for its creation. Vladivostok is fairing somewhat better due to its proximity and links to Japan and the American North West, but a general lack of investment, bureaucratic dysfunction and environmental pollution still pose a threat to both cities. New planning legislation exists on paper but the institutional arrangements to implement it are only slowly being formed. There is agreement that the Soviet past is to be abolished, but there is no agreement about the shape of the new society to be created. Only when Tomsk and Vladivostok and the rest of Russia begin to experience the benefits of transition from the command to the market economy will any real improvements be seen in the quality of urban built form and in the quality of life for Russia population generally. 

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