| by Christopher Rutty.|

When a business acquaintance came to Moscow in September 2000, he made a comment about Russia. This fifty-something, big burly Californian, six foot four and all muscle, served in Vietnam and upon return, embarked on a successful career. He was a self-made man, not the type to give credit without good reason: he was not a supporter of feminist ideals, or overly endowed with liberal worldviews. However, after a week in St. Petersburg and a few days in Moscow, he shocked me with his comment as we walked along the street. "It’s easy to see women run this country."

Women certainly do; you can see it everywhere. Like public transport: trams, trolley busses and the Metro system. They are the cleaners in apartment buildings, who take out the filthy, unwrapped rubbish dropped down the communal shute. Women keep the paths clear after heavy snowfalls. Men are rarely seen working in the orange uniform of the city council. Under the Soviet regime, women knew they had an equal role in supporting their society, be it on a building site, driving a truck, or as a rocket scientist. Stoicism, confidence and superiority are etched upon the faces of women over 35 years old as they provided the stability in the home, and in their work place.

In the former Soviet Union, women occupied many prestigious positions in academia, science, architecture and planning; doctors, lawyers and judges; directors of museums and many other positions, were the domain of women. They traditionally held positions that in the West, were highly paid and strongly favored males. The Soviet ideology gave women almost total equality with men. Unfortunately, this is changing, and the sexual bias inherent in Western corporate culture is altering the women’s way of controlling the chaos that each new day unveils in Russian society. The selfishness of the new commodity culture in Russia has led to disrespect and an undervaluing of women by males under 30.

Women have always held the reins and driven the cart, for centuries in fact. This should not be surprising. Part of the ‘collective unconscious’ of Western culture is the unsung role women have played in the cohesiveness of all hitherto societies. Western Christian ethnocentrism –and Christian denial- has always undervalued the role of women throughout history. In fact, in Anglo-Christian societies, the male Christ is worshipped, while the Russian Orthodox Church worships the Madonna as its primary Icon. This polarity is fundamental to understanding a little of the uniqueness in the Russian psyche.

For centuries, Russian women had to support a population of drunken men -- Alcohol abuse was a major cultural problem long before the Soviet regime used vodka as a social pacifier. Today you can see males of any age, outside any Metro station, drinking beer at 9:00 am before they go to work. Beer is the new ‘Western’ drink of choice for the youth, while older men prefer Vodka. At less than U.S. $2 a bottle, vodka remains the State sanctioned opiate of the masses. Major General Viktor Kozhushko, head of the Russian military’s draft directorate, complained that only 13% of eligible draftees where medically fit for military service due to their unhealthy condition. However, he drafted the remainder simply to fill the quota.

With the male population drunk, Russian women were, and continue to be, responsible for social order. The role held by the Babushka is reminiscent of ancient cultures where authority and wisdom came from age, and was not questioned, resulting in a society of dynamic equilibrium and cohesiveness. Unfortunately, women under 35 years old are a pathetic offspring from the strong, resilient, older generation that everyone respected without question: the Babushka.

It can be seen in the faces of young women with the gaudy makeup and clothing. They now have the freedom that former Eastern block countries once longed for -in the colorful and shinning culture of electrical goods, car alarms and Christian Dior lipstick. They strive to emulate that particular modern Western woman, for whom appearance is more important than substance, as evidenced by atrocious over-the-top and mismatched fashions. They are the culturally impotent who know as little about Pushkin as a Western individual; A major insult to the Russian cultural intellect, for Pushkin –and other Russian writers- are revered and respected in Russian culture to a degree that English Shakespearean scholars would envy.

The disrespect afforded to the babushka by the teen generation that knows nothing of the ‘Soviet respect’ for them is sickening. At an entrance to Red Square, are the Iverskaya Chapel and Ascension Gates, built in 1669 for the Iverskaya Icon.

From the 17^th to the 20^th centuries, the Iverskaya Chapel of the Icon of the Mother of God at the Ascension gates was one of the most honored of Moscow’s holy places. All the emperors visiting Moscow would pay their respects to the miracle-working Icon. Merchants would visit before starting to trade and students would pray before examinations.

In front of the Chapel, sunk into the cobblestones, is a large circular brass plate. It has no inscription except for an elaborate design in the shape of a star. Russian tourists stand in the center and throw a ruble over their shoulder, while dozens of people gather to watch this attraction. It also attracted the poor babushki who would chase after the rolling coins. These women were dirty and destitute; they were beggars, like so many thousands in the streets and metro stations. I stood watching the poor creatures and the young tourists playing at this game. Then I noticed four young boys, two were small and probably 12 years old, and the others taller and maybe sixteen.

The two young boys were also chasing the money, although they were not beggars in their clean Western brand name clothes; Encouraged by their older accomplices who stood laughing. At first this seemed unfair, the kids being more agile, then, I saw them step on one of the babushka’s feet when she reached the coin first. He would start kicking her leg and pushing her and punching her ankle until she gave up the coin. This brought forth great laughter from the hooligans. I was shocked and then as this continued with each tossed coin one small boy pushed the babushka from behind as she went for the coin. She would try to defend herself by turning about to hit the boy, but she was too old and unbalanced and this distracted her so the other boy reached the coin. After pushing her he would spit on her back, turn to his friends and smile, awaiting a nod of approval, then kick her in the bottom as she bent over.

Not a single person paid attention to this. Three different babushki, all beggars, were trying to reach the coins, but beggars are so common people pay them little mind. The assembled crowd, dressed in their finery, all seemed to be oblivious to these odious examples of Russia’s Westernized youth.

I faced that old Soviet aphorism, ‘Sto Delit’? What is to be done? If I intervened the two older kids, more stocky and taller then I, would probably attack me. This is a relatively new behavioral problem, on the Metro trains, teenagers abusing older people is becoming more frequent, along with the trademark of Western culture, graffiti. After some time I looked for the militsia, to my horror, they were standing several meters behind me blending into the masses, watching.

In the early 1990’s, the babushki still commanded complete respect form everyone. It was a cultural phenomenon going back many decades. Now, with slick highly professional marketing psychology, Western products, prejudices and stereotypes, are taking over Russian youth like a malevolent force from a B-grade 1950’s sci-fi movie.

Despite these setbacks, the older women are still fighting fit, as evidenced by their attitude in the Moscow Metro stations. Looks count for zero in the real world of the Moscow underground. The small, frail women are the most aggressive, to the point of humor. If a babushka gives you a command, you simply do it. She knows best, and this is the ‘collective consciousness’ of a society, where maturity counts for something.

Long live the Russian Babushki.

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