bands Russian men are. Her first husband,rna Russian, was unable to stay awavrnfrom the bottle. Whether he beat her,rntoo, was unclear, since her ability to conversernin English was somewhat limited.rnShe did say that her Armenian husband,rnlike most Armenian men, is a workaholic.rnThe next evening Vladimir took us tornan Uzbek restaurant, which turned outrnto be a hangout of the Moscow Maha.rnIndeed, some of the denizens were caricaturesrnof the Sieilian/Ameriean Mafia ofrnthe 1920’s, complete with dark hatsrnpulled down over their eyes. After a deliciousrn(for Moscow) dinner with winesrnand the inevitable vodka, a “gidy show”rnbegan—risque for the Russians, althoughrnquite tame by American standards.rnThe act included a magician whorncalled me to assist him. I could not quiternfollow what he did, especially after thernwine and vodka, but it was impressive.rnWhen the show ended the gids camerndown onto the floor and joined some ofrnthe (Mafiosi-occupied) tables, evidentlyrnthe customary practice.rnDanopolous and I met with a retiredrngeneral (Major General Nikita Chaldymov)rnwho now heads a school, the HumanitarianrnAcademy of the ArmedrnForces, charged with teaching and applyingrnthe “social sciences” in the armedrnforces. He was the principal organizer ofrna meeting in November 1991 entitledrn”The Armed Forces and Military Servicernin a Democratic State,” to which Irnhad been invited. I could not attendrnbecause I was unable to get confirmationrnuntil the price of the airline ticket had escalatedrnby $1,000. Again, a typical Russianrnfailing. The school, formerly thernLenin Academy of the Armed Forces,rnwas a training ground for political officersrnbefore the coup. Now it is geared towardrnthe social sciences—sociology, psychology,rnand economies—as they applyrnto the military. Chaldymov emphasizedrnthe necessity to “departicize” the armedrnforces. We replied, “Oh, you mean depoliticize.”rn”No,” the general said, “Werndo not want to depoliticize because thernarmy must always be the servant of thernstate.” On that note we agreed—just arnmatter of semantics—and departed. Irnnoticed the reception hall more uponrnleaving than entering; it was entirelyrnempty. Not a single display or artifactrnwas in place. Danopoulos, who hadrnbeen there the year before, told me thatrnthe room was then still full of Party propagandarndisplays.rnWe did most of our traveling aboutrnthe city on the Metro, one of the mostrnoutstanding municipal transportationrnsystems in the worid. Although neitherrnDanopoulos nor I speak Russian, a merernknowledge of the Cyrillic alphabet is sufficientrnto navigate the system. Much ofrnit deep underground for security purposes,rnit is one of the legacies of Stalin inrnmuch the same way that the GermanrnLIBERAL ARTSrnTHE MOMMY PARTYrnThe recently formed National Party of Hungarian Mothers is calling for state recognitionrnof motherhood as a full-time job. The party argues that the state should payrnmothers the minimum wage per child through age ten. With unemployment inrnHungary at 13 percent, it says husbands need jobs that pay enough to support theirrnfamilies and that wives should be able to stay at home.rnAutobahn system is a legacy of Hitler.rnThe stations are kept clean, and the tilernwork is in reasonably (for Russian) goodrncondition. Moreover, they arc safe,rnwhich cannot always be said for manyrnparts of present-day Moscow. The carsrnare also clean and modern for the mostrnpart, and they arrive every few minutes—rnalmost no wait. A warning for the traveler,rnhowever: many of the stops havernbeen renamed since the failed Augustrn1991 coup; heroes of the “Great OctoberrnRevolution” are out, traditional Russianrnnames are in. One of the most impressivernpastimes of the people is their readingrnwhile riding or waiting. And not NationalrnEnquirer material, either. ThernRussians have always had a reputationrnas a nation of readers, which brings uprnquite a paradox. While the UnitedrnStates, the world’s technological leader,rnis almost a nation of illiterates, Russia,rntechnologically backward in Third Worldrnmagnitude, is highly literate.rnVladimir arranged a city tour forrnDanopoulos and me on Friday, the dayrnbefore we left. Inevitably, we went to thernKremlin and its museum and cathedral.rnMy wife and I had seen it in 1970, and asrnwell as I can recall it has physically remainedrnthe same. The cathedral’s purpose,rnhowever, has changed, since it isrnoccasionally used as a functioningrnchurch now that official atheism is dead.rnOur guide Vera, though an Uzbek, is arndevout Orthodox Christian. This wasrnevident in the reverence with which sherntreated the religious vestments and artifactsrnon display. Like many other non-rnRussians in Moscow, she appeared tornharbor worries about Russian nationalism.rnShe kept reassuring us and herselfrnthat being a citizen of Russia and a longtimernresident of Moscow she had nothingrnto worry about. Nevertheless, shernwas worried.rnWhat will happen to this unhappyrncountry? Russia’s problems are so immense,rnand it has so little corporaternknowledge of how to deal with them.rnBy comparison, ours pale into insignificance.rnYet the fate of Russia and of thernother former Soviet republics affects usrnprofoundly. As one wag has put it, thousandsrnof books have been written on howrnto transform a capitalist system into arnsocialist system, but not one has beenrnwritten on how to reverse the process.rnRobert C. Whitten is a retiredrnphysicist with NASA and a Commander,rnReserve-Retired, with the U.S.rn44/CHRONICLESrnrnrn