A View of Moscow: Then and Now

TIME White House Correspondent Jerrold Schecter, who served as Moscow bureau chief from 1968 to 1970, returned for the first time in two years to cover the summit meeting. He was struck by the changes in Soviet society that have taken place in so short a time. His report:

MOSCOW is a sprawling yet intense city of seven million people, with an older generation that has suffered deeply--20 million Soviet citizens died in World War II--and a postwar generation that asks not what it can do for Communism, but what Communism can do to make life better. Soviet citizens remain staunch patriots and believe in their system, but they now seem intent on making it work for them. No one talks about Communist-capitalist "convergence," but the Soviet Union is surely developing Western tastes--and the problems that accompany them.

There have been changes in the face of the city itself. Going back to my neighborhood in the southwest corner of Moscow, I discovered that a storefront window left broken for more than a year had finally been replaced. The ever present litter had also been removed from behind the house and the roads repaved. An Austrian-built gas station and a large movie theater were attractive additions to the district.

Much of the face-lifting was finished in time for the summit. Many

Muscovites jokingly refer to Nixon as "Moscow's new chief architect."

There are still shortages in the state-run stores, but they are not as serious as before. Two years ago, one had to search the city for a toilet seat, a curtain rod or a soap dish. Today they are abundant and cheap. In a neighborhood store called "A Thousand Things," there are now a number of items that were not on sale even in late 1970: portable hair dryers, electric shavers and cans of spray paint. At GUM, the famous department store on Red Square, the selection of clothing has expanded, though the prices remain high. The store even stocks such exotic merchandise as $30 wigs, spear guns, flippers and skin-diving masks. GUM's hottest item: "Charm" hair spray, selling for one ruble ($1.46), per aerosol can.

The availability of food has improved markedly. Hothouse-grown cucumbers are sold year-round but they cost more than $1 a pound. There are frozen ducks and chickens from Hungary and Denmark, eggs imported from Poland. Perhaps the single most noticeable change is the relative profusion of automobiles. In a country that has inadequate housing, there is now debate over whether the state should build heated indoor garages.

The most important changes, of course, are in the Soviet psyche. When I first arrived in Moscow in August of 1968, the oppressive atmosphere brought about by the Czechoslovak invasion stifled all internal talk of political progress and economic or social reform. Orthodoxy ruled. Then the border skirmishes with China in 1969 and 1970 added to the tension and the turn inward. The Viet Nam War stymied negotiations with the United States. Now

Czechoslovakia is no longer regarded as a danger. The border with China is relatively dormant. Viet Nam, despite the mining of Haiphong, is being downplayed by the Soviet leadership. The byword is realism; the new necessity is to improve conditions at home. One hears it privately from friends and colleagues: the Soviet Union is reordering its priorities. Nuclear sufficiency and a SALT agreement mean a reallocation of resources and more spending on consumer goods. "We are about to turn a corner," a woman official told me. "The summit could mean changes at home as well as in our relations with you."

Along with this new optimism goes a dwindling emphasis on anti-German propaganda. No longer does "German revanchism" and the fear of a Nazi revival dominate Soviet propaganda and serve as a device for demanding sacrifices at home.

The lifting of the burden of a war mentality means more concentration on getting ahead within the system. Competition for higher education seems fiercer, especially among those trying to get into the Komsomol, the party youth organization, the traditional path to full party membership. Though long hair is still frowned upon, youth is becoming more individualistic. A friend claims that the students in one Moscow school got together and refused to wear the standard brown wool uniforms. "Now," he says, "they wear what they please." Communist Party membership is still the criterion for advancement, but a plan to issue new party cards is under way as part of an effort to weed and prune the membership for new growth.

One aspect of Soviet life that remains the same is the government's attitude toward intellectual dissent, equated with disloyalty. The Jewish question festers, though a clamp on immigration to Israel that was in force when I left two years ago has since been eased. Some Jews, like the outstanding poet, Joseph Brodsky, are being pressured by officials to go to Israel, although they prefer to remain in Russia. Still, there are glimmerings. The controversial film Andrei Rublyov, based on the life of the 15th century monk who founded a new school of icon painting, was recently released after a six-year ban.

This is still a country with a heavy, dreary bureaucracy and too many police, both open and secret. Its people, however, are emerging into a new openness. There is humor and gossip in the streets ("What Central Committee member's son is having an affair with a noted poetess?"). There is a sense of the possible and a desire for accomplishment, for matching the West. "There has been progress here in the past two years," says a Western diplomat, "but there is a long way to go." Coming back to Moscow, one senses the long-stalled process of progress finally speeding up.

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