Pyotr Patrushev ©2006Email: rustran@gmail.com |
See Pyotr's translation and interpreting webpage: www.russiantranslate.org |
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Reliable
data on Soviet sexual habits seems to be Moscow’s best-kept military secret,
which hampers the fight to control the deadly virus the Russians call SPID, as
Pyotr Patrushev reports.
If
you are travelling to Moscow (or Omsk or Erevan) this winter, you no longer have
to rack your brains over whether the most wanted commodity in Russia this year
is women’s tights with floral designs or Toshiba speakers or crocodile skin
shoes.
You
can still take any of the above, but make sure you stuff them to the brim with
condoms because that precious cargo will open many doors, if not hearts, for its
proud owner.
The
truth is that the AIDS problem in the USSR (although numerically small in
comparison with countries like Australia) is not only laying bare planning and
production deficiencies that could cost the country thousands of human lives and
billions of rubles, but also testing the limits of social tolerance and
acceptance, even in the age of glasnost. The
newest word in the Soviet vogue vocabulary is SPID (pronounced as “speed”
and meaning AIDS). A few sophisticates will even talk to you about “spidophobia”,
the unreasonable fear of contracting AIDS, which is becoming widespread. But
the most significant results by far of the spread of the AIDS virus are the
social and psychological repercussions it is creating among the Soviet people.
One leading Soviet specialist is talking about a potential polarization of
Soviet society in response to the AIDS threat that would amount to nothing short
of civil war. While
this might have been an exaggeration uttered in the heat of a discussion, there
are a number of reports that show extreme forms of overreaction and
discrimination, as well as official obtuseness, which are encountered by the
people who suffer from AIDS especially if they belong to one of the major
initial “risk groups:” – homosexuals, prostitutes and drug addicts. In
one case reported from a small provincial town, a couple diagnosed as HIV
positive were sacked from their jobs and put for a few weeks into a quarantine
cell, where they were studied by doctors and photographed by journalists
(through a glass window) like two exotic animals. They were finally released on
the insistence of Moscow specialists but were unable to find work or stay in
their hometown. They left, with some of their belongings, for an unknown
destination, like itinerant plague carriers. Officially,
the confidentiality of the diagnosis and the humane treatment of patients is
assured by the Soviet law: in practice, doctors will often call the party boss
to announce the bad news or will even openly write the diagnosis on the
patient’s sickness certificate.
The
license for such actions, be as they may in violation of the “socialist
norms”, lies in the general intolerance of any kind of deviance which has been
bred into Soviet society by decades of xenophobic preaching and ruthless
persecution of undesirable minorities. Homosexuality,
even among consenting adults and in private, is still a criminal offence
(although no longer rigidly enforced). Drug addiction has been generally viewed
as a scourge brought on by Western decadent attitudes and influence or an as a
surprisingly resilient relic of the past (in the case of Central Asian
republics).
Attitudes
to sexuality in general are such that some early Soviet reports about the AIDS
epidemic claimed proudly that Soviet men and women were orally superior beings
in comparison with their Western counterparts, since they were engaging in the
act on average six times less frequently. This
was viewed as a guarantee that the AIDS virus would not spread as rapidly under
socialist conditions as it did in capitalist countries.
The
truth of the matter is that no-one in the Soviet Union has any reliable data
about the state of sexual morality in general, let along frequency of
intercourse. Ministry
officials euphemistically referred to the condom as Item NO 2. (this name stems
from its designation on the manufacturing schedule. It is also popularly known
as galoshes, due to its powerful built-in anti-erotic properties).
General
prudishness and ignorance has even led one Soviet writer to reflect that sex is
the best-kept military secret in the USSR. So secret, in fact, that not even the
“closed” data, available to “competent” authorities only, is known to
exist.
However,
since the reform program began, some interesting facts have emerged. Among them
was an unexpectedly high rate of unwanted pregnancies among teenagers (the
Soviet Union is known world leader in the use of abortion as a major
contraceptive) and an exponential growth of minor venereal diseases (such as
gonorrhea) among the young. The
specialists also found that the unexpected promiscuity was compounded by an
appalling lack of basic knowledge about sex and sexual hygiene.
In
one interview, a Soviet specialist spoke wistfully about French television’s
ability to interrupt a prime time broadcast with a public announcement about the
need to use condoms for protection against infection during the first act of
sexual intercourse, because the rapture of the hymen might be accompanied by
bleeding. But,
for better or worse, the hymen of Soviet prudishness is being rudely ruptured by
the AIDS scare. Even the term “anal intercourse” has finally appeared in one
or two popular publications, an event unthinkable only a few months ago. The
reaction to the AIDS scare ranges from hysterical calls to isolate all HIV
carriers in special camps (a similar reaction was also recorded in Bulgaria) to
some of the most enlightened comments on the nature of the condition and its
prevention found anywhere in the world press. The
most informed specialists, such as the sexologist I. S. Kon, advocate public
education and concrete preventive measures (such as the wide availability and
popularisation of condoms and free, clean syringes).
However,
as the accompanying table shows, this is easier said than done.
The
problem is that condoms represent only a tip of the iceberg of ideological
unpreparedeness, compounded by sloppy medical and industrial practices.
There
are doubts about the thoroughness of the sterilization procedures in many
hospitals, particularly in remote areas. Special central sterilization units
have been set up, but they cannot satisfy the demand. Patients who have regular
injections are being advised to bring their own syringes, if they can procure
them.
The
mind boggles when one thinks about the hard-to-sterilise hemodiallysis machines
or blood transfusion units or the lack of disposable containers for blood. The
Soviet Union has little non-reusable equipment, cannot afford to buy it abroad
and lacks either the industrial capacity and sophistication or the will to
manufacture the needed items locally.
On
the plus side, it must be said that the Soviet Union has the capacity to quickly
and effectively introduce large-scale blooded testing (sometimes without the
knowledge of sample givers), visitor screening (at present, all foreigners
intending to spend more than three months in the USSR must produce a clean bill
of health) and swift local report (in prisons or in the Army).
In
Moscow barbershops, all equipment with the potential to cause bleeding or
abrasions must be sterilized, at least superficially.
The
sophistication of some of the discussion in the Soviet press could occasionally
make Australian standards seem parochial and intellectually simplistic.
Although
it is acknowledged that AIDS initially was affecting primarily prostitutes (who
comprise an especially large risk group in the Soviet Union, because of their
extensive contacts with visitors from Africa) and homosexuals, its threat to the
heterosexual community is being widely acknowledged.
Even
the inherent value of sexual freedom is being acknowledged by some as a new and
progressive social process that builds voluntary internal controls against
promiscuity, instead of the fragile and punitive puritanical prohibitions of the
past.
The
Soviet Union’s chief epidemiologist and AIDS expert, Professor V. I. Pokrovsky
(who has recently visited Australia to acquaint himself with the local
experience), has even pointed out that prudish and ineffectual measures against
AIDS were threatening primarily the young, amid whom the various risk groups
intermingled.
He
implied that attempts to preach morality to the young as the only preventative
measure, knowing that they are in the prime of their biological capacity for
sexual and social exploration, were not only futile and counterproductive but
also almost willfully destructive.
This
remark becomes even more poignant as one reads reports in the Soviet press about
the virtual state of war between youth gangs in some cities, and the aging and
repressive old guard that attempts to answer the treat of social ferment and
disillusionment with calls for more and tighter law and order.
AIDS
in the USSR seems to have become a social touchstone in the battle between
“fathers and sons” (a title by the Russian novelist Turgenev) that will test
their capacity for mutual recognition and forbearance or for mutual destruction.
The
limits of tolerance are exemplified by replies of the two key bureaucrats who
control, respectively, the manufacture of condoms and the availability of
syringes. The first says he has no
spare foreign currency to buy the badly needed condoms abroad; the second
opposes “making life easier for the druggies”. “Would you tell them,
‘There you go, precious ones, here is a clean syringe for you to shoot
yourselves up with?” he said.
One
must acknowledge, however, that the problem of comparative lack of foreign
currency in Soviet coffers is a real one (although even poorer Cuba has managed
to solve it, at least in relation to condoms). But surely, if there is a will,
there is a way.
For
example, why not barter the surplus Australian condoms or disposable syringes
for the surplus of Soviet cotton, caviar, timber, cheap cars of whatever is
needed in Australia? Could the old catchcry “Make love not war” acquire a
new meaning?
It
is clear that we still have a long way to go, not only in terms of finding a
medical “cure” for AIDS but also in terms of our capacity to develop
humaneness and compassion towards each other.
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Pyotr
Patrushev is a Sydney-based writer and a professional translator and
interpreter.