This past winter I went on assignment to Moscow. It gets cold in Russia’s capital. Very cold. And snowy. Of course, so do parts of Colorado. But the difference is, from shovels to snowplows, we do everything we can to mitigate the discomfort and the inconvenience. They don’t. Which is a metaphor for the difference between their nation and ours.
Americans are idealists who challenge adversity and aspire to overcome it. The Russians are pessimists — in their world, realists — for whom adversity is an unavoidable inheritance. From political tyrants to economic hardship to harsh weather, they have always lived with adversity; it is part of their every day, perhaps even their DNA, so they merely aspire to adapt to it, and survive despite it. In other words, they have low expec- tations.
My assignment in Russia was to shoot a documentary segment for HDNet Television’s “World Report” about the Russian space agency Roskosmos, upon whose three-man Soyuz spacecraft American astronauts will exclusively depend for rides (for which we pay) to and from the international space station once the space shuttle stops flying at the end of next year. The theme, in a nutshell, is, “Their spacecraft is reliable, but are they?”
We shot most of our segment at Star City, the Russian equivalent of NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Houston. Star City is buried deep in a birch forest northeast of Moscow. It snows there a lot. But what do they do about it? Absolutely nothing. Which means, when you’re driving on the network of narrow roads coursing through the complex, your wheels slide into ruts half a foot deep. When you’re walking along a pathway from a road to a building, it’s negotiable only because someone has packed it down before you.
What struck me about the untouched snow in Star City was this: Their space program put a satellite in the sky before we did, then a man. It is their proudest high-tech achievement. Yet at the heart of their crown jewel, they don’t shovel the sidewalks or plow the streets. It’s as if something as simple as snow actually defines the culture of the country.
And not just snow. The cafeteria on the grounds of Star City is uninvitingly sparse. Day after day, besides soup, only two dishes sit on the racks: chicken in some sort of breading and fish in some sort of sauce. What’s more, in a place that boasts such wonders as the world’s biggest centrifuge, I went into three different restrooms where there was nothing to dry my hands.
Even Russia’s space program itself, historically, is a symbol of low expectations. If you look at the American program, largely developed with the cooperative ingenuity of private enterprise, you’ll see that many things that enrich our lives today came out of it. From fire retardant materials to home insulation, from polarized sunglasses to acoustic guitars, from GPS to microchips, from the Dust Buster to Tang. Basically, NASA went to private companies and said, “You’re good at doing such-and-such; can you adapt what you do to what we need?” Then those companies would turn the project on its head and create consumer equivalents.
The Soviets did no such thing. They were just as sophisticated technically, mathematically and astronomically, but because their focus never was on their citizens on the ground, they hardly generated any spin-offs from space.
Russia’s not the bad place it used to be; there are degrees of democracy, and economic opportunity. But deep down, while Russia is a part of the enlightened Western world, it is not a full part . . . which is why, while I’ve got a long list of things to worry about for our nation and our future, Russia isn’t one of them.
But what about relying on Russia to help perpetuate our space program? What if there’s another political conflict, even sharper than the conflict last year over Georgia? Or what if the Russian economy continues in its tailspin? Could the money they spend on space dry up and force them to break their contract with NASA?
Most experts believe they need us — and our dollars, and our alliances with other space-faring nations — more than we need them. Maybe, just to lock things down, we also ought to offer to shovel their snow.
Greg Dobbs is a correspondent for “World Report” on the high-definition television network HDNet.
