Volume 11 Number 3

Summer 2002

Special Reports

Law under Administrative Pressure in Post-Soviet Russia
Vladimir Pastukhov

There is a serious danger that contemporary concepts of Russia will be grossly distorted under the impact of several simplified stereotypes prevailing in the minds of scholars studying the Russian state and its law. These stereotypes include, above all, the belief that violations of the law are universally widespread and the machinery of state is totally corrupt. The actual state of affairs is more complicated; yes, both violations of the law and corruption coexist simultaneously in contemporary Russia. But these are not the phenomena that determine the legal background and ambience of the country. In truth, what determines the character of contemporary Russia, in this regard, cannot be clearly defined and may be distinguished from lawlessness and corruption at an empirical level only with great difficulty.

Tentatively, the experience of post-Soviet Russia may be defined as that of living under the "effect of sleeping law." It is not that Russian legislation is violated; rather it does not work. It is in this seemingly insignificant difference, a nuance really, that we find the essential reason for the distinction between what is happening in Russia, now, and what is usually meant by legal arbitrariness and corruption in contemporary legal systems. Russian laws exist, but they do not regulate the real relations of those subject to the law. And one of the main reasons for this situation is that the real relations among those subject to law in Russia are established in a unique dimension that is parallel to the one at which formal legal regulation is only aimed. It is in the uncanny ability of these two Russian worlds to coexist practically but without intersecting that the mystery of Russian law lies.

"Light" and "shadow"
The key to the understanding of any issue in contemporary Russian life, whether in economics, politics, or law, lies in grasping the existence in today's Russia of formal and informal worlds. Having taken pride in its ability to live for decades in the world of kitchen politics and the equivalent in economics and ideology, independent of the state, the Russian intelligentsia could not imagine that the system of "double thought" and "double action"-the breeding ground for liberal dissidence under official totalitarianism-might one day produce a shadow, semicriminal society under
official liberalism.

The importance of informal (or shadow) social organizations in Russian life is increasingly recognized by analysts. The question posed by these structures is being investigated along at least along two theoretical lines. First, the global and comprehensive nature of the problem is being acknowledged, as the scrutiny it receives suggests. If attention was focused mostly earlier on the shadow economy, shadow business, and so on, today we now have come close to understanding that, in addition to a shadow politics and administration, a shadow social sphere (shadow health, shadow education, shadow culture, and so forth) has emerged in the country. Thus, absolutely everywhere, social relations have been divided into formal and informal ones. Second, ideas regarding the nature of informal relations are changing. The main achievement along these lines is the acknowledgment that shadow spheres in Russia have nothing in common with a so-called "gray" zone in a Western understanding of the words. Distinct from Western gray areas, Russian shadow spheres are formed not next to and contrary to the state but, instead, within the state's own functioning machinery and in collaboration with it. Moreover, as I. M. Klyamkin claims, Russian shadow zones can exist only thanks to the state. These specific features of Russian life must be taken into consideration, above all, when investigating the question of the nature of "arbitrary law" in contemporary Russia.

The reasons for the coexistence of both formal and informal social relations, and the consequences of this state of affairs, are not the subject of this paper. It can be pointed out, in short, that the primary reasons for this phenomenon lie far beyond the framework of the legal sphere. They are primarily of a historical and sociocultural nature. Another, more immediate prerequisite for this coexistence (or, more precisely speaking, duplication of social life) lies in the way in which the system of management, administration in the broadest sense of the word (in other words, the state), has been formed under the influence of existing culture.

"Vicious circle" syndrome
The state, as the secondary but more immediate reason for the coexistence of formal and informal relations in Russian society, is a unique and most powerful "preserving element" that blocks society's development along certain lines while precluding any changes in the cultural forms that society produced. As a result, there is a vicious circle. The nature of the culture, as a constant, determines the emergence both of the two systems of social relations and of a certain type of state, all corresponding to the constant. The state, in turn, increases the impact on social development originally determined by the nature of the Russian cultural type. At the same time, it inhibits the possibility of spontaneous change in cultural type and thus forestalls the possibility of eliminating the dichotomy in social relations within the framework of Russian society's evolutionary development. For that reason, despite the fact that state power, the Russian administrative system, is a secondary factor influencing the emergence of the shadowy informal relations in Russian society, any attempt to overcome the gap between these two spheres-formal and informal-must begin with administrative reform even if it has, as its ultimate aim, cultural changes in Russian society.

It is difficult to say to what extent the gap between formal and informal is a unique feature of Russian society. It seems that this trait is characteristic of most Third World countries. It is difficult, today, to compare the scale of this phenomenon in different countries. What probably is unique is the contrast between the real situation in Russia and its global ambitions, combined with the desire to impose the image of a full-blooded, liberal-democratic system, based on constitutional principles and belonging to the club of leading world powers of modern times, on its own and the world's public opinion.

Law in the shadows
Nevertheless, it is important for us to acknowledge the existence of the formal and the informal worlds in Russia as the leading factor in the development of the country's institutions, including law. The first point that should be emphasized is that informal relations are evolving in Russia not despite or contrary to Russian law but at its expense. It is not that the law is violated but, rather, that its specific features are taken advantage of. As a result, not two hues but three-black, white. and gray-are necessary to describe Russian legal reality. And white and black-by which I mean either the effective use of law or its direct violation-will be used in the picture on a very limited scale. The main area will turn out to be painted gray. It could not be otherwise. The existence of an enormous and shadowy sphere in public life, involving the economy, social relations, and politics, implies a concomitant deformation of the legal system and the rise-however blasphemous it might sound-of shadow legal mechanisms.

In this sphere, violation of the law is a necessary element in the law's own functioning: one does not exist without the other. The paradox is that the Russian economy and society as a whole suffer the most harm as a result of the operation of Russian laws, less so from their overt and, as it were, public violation. As a consequence, and given a system so distorted, violating the law is often the only possible way of asserting legality. Under the circumstances, the focus of public consciousness on the struggle against arbitrary law and corruption leads us away from the main aim-away from the matters that really determine the social and legal climate in Russia.

Corruption versus reliability
Despite the fact that many pages have been written about corruption in Russia, that it figures prominently in all ratings of the most-corrupt countries, and that an enormous number of committees have been set up at various levels to deal with it, the phenomenon itself occupies a much more modest place in Russia than it would seem. Corruption is the bane and fellow traveler of a sufficiently developed society; it is the product of a rationalization of social relations, albeit a perverted product. First of all, corruption implies the compulsory violation of law, whether in the form of financial extortion in exchange for certain lawful actions or in the form of illegal actions taken in conjunction with other interested parties.

Of course, both kinds of corruption occur in Russia. But this is not the prevailing phenomenon. To begin with, in an overwhelming majority of cases, it is necessary to pay not to obtain something contrary to the law, but in order to defend one's lawful interests. It is not the violation of the law but its fulfillment that is paid for in Russia. Second, in Russia it is often necessary to implore the official (in the broadest sense of the word-as an agent of the authorities of any kind) to accept "gratitude." This is because if he or she does not accept it the consequences for the unfortunate "subject of law," encountering the machinery of state along his or her way, will prove to be much more ruinous. In most cases, to call this phenomenon extortion would be stretching the point too far.

As a rule, legal procedures are so complex and so confused that anyone applying to the administrative authorities to realize his or her lawful interests cannot do this in person or even with the help of a legal agent. The system is constructed in such a way that, within the framework of the law and existing instructions, the official's fulfillment of his or her duties in processing the application will lead nowhere. A person not located inside the bureaucracy certainly has no hope of fulfilling the requirements formally expected of him or her. There is a gap between the volume of formal requirements imposed by the system on the citizen (certificates, approvals, expert opinions, conclusions, permissions, and others) and the internal resources of the administrative system itself, which are typically insufficient for coping with these requirements (to issue the certificates, approvals, expert opinions, conclusions, permissions, and other papers on time). As a result, a crucial contradiction emerges: the time necessary to fulfill all the preliminary conditions laid down by the state to realize private law is several orders of magnitude greater than the time within which the applicant can make use of the law. In a nutshell, the coordination process takes so long that eventually there is nothing to implement.

Administrative pressure
The Russian state machinery is so complicated that it is turning into an autonomous system able both to reproduce itself and to influence all aspects of social life. The paradox is that Russia is attempting to solve the problems characteristic of a contemporary postindustrial society while relying on a bureaucratic machine of the preindustrial age, a machine which is irrational and not subject to genuine control. It is the kind of machine Karl Marx wrote about, one in which each official regards the state function he performs as his own and with which the two great reformers-Peter the Great and Vladimir Lenin-were forced to put up.

The main problem of the Russian administrative system is not greed, as is often claimed, but inefficiency. The organization of the bureaucratic machine constantly breeds shortages of time. Insufficient time, in the final analysis, drives both the authorities, unable to cope with their own requirements, and the citizen, unable to fulfill these requirements, into a dead end.

As with any other contradiction, the one described here has to be solved in some fashion. Exclusiveness as a determinative principle in the functioning of the state machinery has become a way of solving the contradiction between the volume of requirements and resources needed to satisfy these requirements. General rules exist but do not work. A specific affair is solved as an exclusive matter in a special way (and it necessarily excludes other affairs and their solutions). Now a special way requires special mechanisms. Thus, it is necessary to have an "inside fixer" (sometimes more than one) who can conduct the matter along the corridors of power, optimizing the processing of documents, obtaining the required signatures, approvals, and expert opinions, ensuring that the question will be considered out of turn, in other words, a superexpediter (as they are sometimes known in New York City) who can reduce the average work time needed to solve the problem.

In order to achieve this optimization, the official must make special efforts that are much greater than those provided for in his direct instructions. As with any additional work, the official's labors must be recompensed. It is only natural for him to be paid by those who persuaded him to undertake the work, those in whose interests he has been acting.

Can this kind of practice be called corruption? The applicant's interests are absolutely lawful or, at least, seem to be such. The official is acting within the limits of established rules and registers the matter according to the requirements set by the authorities. He or she is, in fact, helping to fulfill these requirements expertly and in a timely fashion; in other words, such an official is contributing to the realization of the law.

If we leave aside the individual official and consider the system as a whole, we see that the system can only function provided there will be such volunteer "fixers" to pull apart, sort, and expedite the cases, much as a shunting locomotive switches about the cars cluttering the sidings of a provincial railroad. But the state is unable to pay its officials for this additional effort, and the payment is made by those who have applied to the administration with their needs. Thus, what is called a bribe meant to overcome the force of inertia in Russia has long since turned into an indirect social tax to maintain the state machinery. And the state has long shut its eyes to this practice, because it is the only way to retain the poorly paid officials in the state's service.

It is important, here, to put the emphasis in the right place. If we perceive only the threat of corruption, attention will be focused on deviation from the law, and the proposed treatment would boil down to measures strengthening control and making procedures stricter. But the real danger lies not in deviation from the normal functioning of the state machinery but, rather, in its normal operation. For that reason, the only way to correct the situation is to take general measures aimed at reforming the administration of the state itself.

Law under pressure
Law in contemporary Russia is developing under the influence of two main vectors aimed in different directions. On the one hand, there are society's socio-economic requirements, which are historically and culturally determined. On the other, there are the
state machinery's traditional requirements for self-preservation and self-reproduction. The former vector pushes the legal system in the direction of revolutionary change, adaptation of legal institutions to a postindustrial society, and the defense of private-property rights. The latter vector preserves the principles characteristic of the Soviet legal system in its worse manifestations.

These two opposing vectors largely explain the eclectic and internally contradictory nature of the contemporary Russian legal system-the contradiction between the new legal principles proclaimed in recent legislation and the means by which the rights implicit or explicit in this same legislation would be realized, means that are incompatible with the proclaimed principles. The administrative impact of this state of affairs on the development of postcommunist law in Russia is incarnated in two main principles.

The presumption of guilt. The main principle of postcommunist law is the presumption of guilt on the part of economic actors. Whatever freedoms are proclaimed for the latter, however much control of economic activities is liberalized, contemporary Russian law is constructed in such a way that economic actors much prove their innocence with regard to the law at any stage in the realization of their rights. This leads, therefore, to the overdevelopment of control mechanisms at the expense of mechanisms for the law's realization.

For example, the simple procedure of obtaining free humanitarian aid, whether medicine or food, can turn into the most difficult ordeal both for the provider and the recipient. By definition, humanitarian aid should not be subject to customs duties when crossing the state border. Registration of documents to transport humanitarian aid is done by the State Customs Committee. But the State Customs Committee can accept documents for consideration only if it receives special permission from the Interdepartmental Commission for Humanitarian Aid under the Government of the Russian Federation, which meets once in two months and considers each case of importation of humanitarian aid as submitted by the commission secretariat. The secretariat prepares these cases requesting the same documents as the customs. But the Commission for Humanitarian Aid will not even consider the matter if permission is not received from the pertinent ministry. In the most common cases, involving medicine deliveries, the relevant ministry would be that of the health. In order to apply to the Interdepartmental Commission for Humanitarian Aid, it is therefore necessary to obtain approval in the Humanitarian Aid Department of the Health Ministry of the Russian Federation. This approval, in its turn, can be given provided there is permission to import humanitarian aid from the regional health committee for the region for which the humanitarian aid is intended, and also if an expert opinion is furnished on the quality of the medicine. This must come from a research institute in the Ministry of Health system (this service usually requires payment) as well as the Pharmaceutical Committee and several other less-important organizations.

Only after collecting all of these documents is it possible to return to the Customs Committee, where the freight has been in a temporary warehouse and where each day of storage is paid at a commercial rate. If all the paperwork is in order, the shipment is moved from the temporary customs warehouse to the recipient's own storage facility. But this does not mean that it can be used right away. In order to obtain permission to use the humanitarian aid released by customs, it is necessary to register the entire procedure, up to this point, with the State Tax Inspectorate and the Main Department to Combat Economic Crimes in the Internal Affairs Ministry. And only when the last two agencies grant permission, is it possible to begin using the aid. But subsequent supervision is carried out by all six agencies every month, each in its field. In order to provide an idea of the extent of the supervisory control, it suffices to point out that in the case of deliveries of vaccines or other injected substances, the Committee for Humanitarian Aid requires the recipient of the humanitarian aid to give account of the aid in the shape of used syringes, which must be collected from each doctor making the injections together with a filled-out form.

It is natural that with the existence of such obstacles only an out-and-out criminal pursuing personal gain and with hidden motives would agree voluntarily to go through such administrative ordeals. And since this person is a criminal, he will pay for the officials' work at every step in the process of approval. On the other hand, a normal person would simply cut down the volume of humanitarian operations in Russia, something that is actually happening. Thus, the actual right to obtain humanitarian aid, duty-free, or to finance charitable programs by means of tax rebates, as is already approved by Moscow, is in no way operative.

The system of control by tax agencies is so complicated that entrepreneurs either do not provide for these kinds of programs or do so but without any relation to tax rebates, since it is easier for them to lose time than to provoke and endure additional attention from control services. Such programs are only of interest to those who are keen to launder money with their help, making payments only under the condition that from 50 to 80 percent of the money contributed is returned in the illegal form of cash to the giver (known in Russian as otkat). The practitioners of such schemes also include payment for all necessary approvals from the very start in their expenditures.

The situation, as it stands, would appear to be quite logical, if we assume that 99 percent of all those who have to do with the state in such spheres of activity are criminals and that the state's main task lies in exposing them. Of course, if we were to regard each person proposing to import humanitarian aid as a smuggler, it is obvious that an administrative sieve would be created that virtually no one could penetrate. And the fact that fully law-abiding subjects are the first to get caught in this sieve does not worry the state, since the thesis advanced by Stalin's procurator general Andrei Vyshinsky-"It is better for ten innocent people to suffer than for one guilty person to avoid responsibility"-remains firmly imbedded in the administrative subconscious.

The result of the implementing of this principle seems predictable: the entire
machinery of state evolves into a monolithic mechanism for control and punishment. Prevention of crime becomes a function not only of the tax police but also of the entire tax inspectorate; not only the section to combat contraband but the whole Customs Committee fights criminals; not only the Internal Affairs Ministry but the entire government labors toward this end. Everyone is so busy preventing crimes that there is virtually no one to do their own work. Society, in turn, does not work either but only spends time proving that it is not criminal. The normal activities of citizens and legal persons are paralyzed. In medical terms, the Russian legal system is afflicted with constipation on a grand scale.

The situation cannot be overcome until legislation is changed so that the investigation of violations of the law is carried out when they are discovered, not before, on the assumption that they are occurring universally. Imagine what would happen with the balance of trade if all the subjects of economic activity resorted to prepayment on a national scale. This is just what is happening today in Russia in the field of legal regulation. Everyone is accused of breaking the law a priori and must prove (prepay as it were) their innocence before they implement any more or less substantial economic operation.

An alternative system of regulation would be one based on trust in economic actors. In our example, the humanitarian-aid shipment must be allowed to cross the border, without payment of customs duties, on the basis of an application indicating the terms of import and including all the required information about the applicant. This presumably would make it possible, if necessary and if there are serious grounds for it, to trace the subsequent fate of the shipment. The responsibility for detecting infringements of the law should rest with the Internal Affairs Ministry and other similar structures, all of which should be able to work effectively in a context of free movement of goods. The states' supervisory and enforcement agencies should be dealing with specific transgressors instead of analyzing documents filled in by everyone without exception.

But in any of the attempts to implement such a system, it turns out that the law-enforcement agencies are absolutely ineffective; too many cooks spoil the broth, and, as a result, the treasury goes hungry and is full of holes. This reminds us of past discussion concerning the two concepts of hotel security. Every effort can be directed at checking the documents of all the people entering a hotel, or one could watch and detain only the most suspicious characters, following them through the hotel. A lot has changed in Russian hotels since Soviet times, when a person could enter a hotel only when in possession of all the relevant documents. But in the state everything has remained the same, and the state feels fine, because all the costs of organizing total control are shouldered by the consumer.

The burden of proof. The Russian state would have collapsed long ago under the burden of the control functions it has taken upon itself, if it had not learned to transfer the weight of these functions to society. The second most important principle shaping the Russian legal system is that the burden of proving one's innocence lies with the tacitly accused, with the economic actors. The state apparatus fiercely defends this principle of legal procedure in any reforms, particularly with respect to attempts to make life easier for entrepreneurs. For example, the recently adopted Tax Code proclaimed, as a principle, the goal of simplifying the collection of taxes and reducing their number. With this aim, a single social tax was introduced intended to replace the four taxes that existed earlier (the Employment Fund, the Social Security Fund, the Compulsory Health Insurance Fund, and the Pension Fund). The purpose of the innovation was to save time in registering documents, reduce personnel in the control and other agencies. Formerly, the organization paying was registered with all four funds and sent four payments every month to the four accounts, reporting each separately. The Tax Code introduced a single social tax, in other words, one payment is made every month.

But this is in theory. In practice, according to the instructions of the State Tax Service, the payer receives one bill, but the bill lists four accounts. For that reason, the payer must still fill in four pay sheets. Simply enough, in these sheets, only one account number is indicated. But, in addition to the account number, one of four codes is indicated in each pay sheet, designating the original fund (which allegedly no longer exists). The State Tax Service has no intention of taking the additional work on itself and dividing the payments among the funds. It is up to the taxpayers to save their own lives. Moreover, if there is a mistake in the codes, despite the fact that the money has been transferred to the correct account number in full, the tax service refuses to acknowledge payment of the tax, since according to instructions, money cannot be transferred from "code to code." There was a great deal of confusion consequently, leading in a number of cases to overpayment of taxes, the surplus of which was not returned in most cases. The accounting system and preparation of documents became even more complicated for taxpayers and the expenditure of work only increased. Thus, as long as the burden of proving their innocence rests with those subject to the law in their relations with the state, the latter has no real incentives to simplify control procedures, since the onus lies not on the state but on the economic actors.

The struggle waged by the tax agencies against apartment tenants is revealing. Since direct control of tenants is labor-intensive and requires a lot of time and professional ability from tax-agency personnel, the Moscow administration decided to transfer the struggle to the tenants, above all, to foreigners who, in the opinion of tax personnel, a priori rent the most prestigious apartments.

The ensuing administrative farce developed in phases. As a first step, representatives of foreign companies were advised to submit information on all their rented apartments. No one was concerned that these data had nothing to do with company tax accounts and that this requirement was unfounded. This was only the beginning. As a second step, companies were obliged to submit lists of foreign employees renting apartments in Moscow. Finally, it was demanded that companies submit information on foreigners' wages and information regarding those who were paid additional compensation to cover apartment leases.

If Soviet principles are applied consistently, sooner or later one arrives at the Soviet system. And that happened in this case. Finally, when visas were issued by the visa-and-accreditation section of Moscow's Internal Affairs Department, all foreigners were required to submit the rental contracts for apartments that had been concluded through Moscow Rental Services, a commercial enterprise indirectly controlled by Moscow's Social Security Department. And now, from the ashes, rose the ghost of the Department on Diplomatic Corps Affairs, which was a monopoly that had solved all questions of foreigners' lives in Moscow during the Soviet era. This is in direct contradiction of existing legislation, chiefly, the Law Restricting Monopoly Activities and Competition in the Russian Federation, which prohibits agencies of the state from restricting rights of citizens and economic actors and providing unilateral advantages for individual commercial structures. But the desire to transmit the scrutiny of taxpayers to a third party proved to be too strong and compelled the agencies to break the law.

All the reforms invented by politicians will only worsen the situation until the opposite principle prevails: the burden of investigating infringements of the law or avoidance of taxes should rest on authorized state agencies. The taxpayers, as "free assistants," should not be responsible for making the life of the state easier and for providing reams of additional documents to financial inspectors. Whether it likes it or not, the state must "go to the people," not exploit them as unpaid employees. The controlling organizations must be able to work selectively with primary book-keeping documents, instead of forcing thousands of offices to fill in innumerable forms day and night, all to catch one malefactor.

If the state bore the entire brunt of the control it envisaged for itself, we would have long since witnessed an apoplectic stroke of the machinery of state, when thousands of overworked and exhausted officials collapsed or retired from service; the state machinery would have been paralyzed at all levels. But since all the costs have been transferred to society, we are witnessing a slow death from multiple sclerosis. The stagnation of the economy as a consequence of bureaucratization has obviously become a remarkably serious illness today.

Social consequences of bureaucratization
The everyday life of Russians largely depends on the nature of their relations to various administrative agencies. The degree of this dependence only increases with time, since the solution to virtually all social problems occurs, one way or another, with the participation of federal or city administrations. It would best to illustrate the social consequences of the bureaucratic deformation of the legal system with examples from Moscow life, since all the national trends have been most fully realized, and have emerged in their most complete form, in Moscow.

The activities of the Moscow administration, in the broadest sense of the word, are divisible into two essential functions: government proper (the ability of the machinery of state to fulfill its functions effectively), which is not discussed here, and the social aspect (the impact of the administration's style and methods on the daily life of residents and the shaping of the administrative social environment). During the last years, the social aspects of the administrative apparatus's activities have been mostly ignored by the Moscow government. Administrative decisions, including the reorganization of numerous city services and the introduction of numerous rules and procedures regulating the daily life of an overwhelming majority of the city residents, were never examined from the perspective of their social consequences or their influence on the individual's life (whether they create additional conveniences or additional difficulties, for example). Only the internal needs of the apparatus were taken into account-for the "convenience of control and fulfillment of executive and management functions."

This attitude on the part of municipal government has become the source not only of additional social strain but also of political tension in the city. The snowballing intricacy of administrative procedures in 1998-1999 led to a situation where Muscovites spent an impermissibly large part of their time solving innumerable administrative questions ranging from obtaining a certificate from housing offices to registering a private company.

A graphic example is the procedure of registering residence status. In order to register at a new address, as the result, say, of the purchase of a new apartment, a Muscovite must take the following steps. First of all, it is necessary to obtain from the passport official at the housing office of one's former residence a special form to cancel the old registration; one must wait several days for this form, since it is issued at the local Internal Affairs section, to which he or she cannot apply directly, while the passport offices receive documents through the housing office. Second, it is necessary to go to the passport official in the housing office of the new residence for preliminary confirmation of the new registration. It is necessary to wait for a few days at this point, as well, since confirmation is also done through the passport office of the Internal Affairs section. The citizen must now return with the same form to the passport lady at the previous residence and submit documents to cancel registration. Once you receive, several days later, the passport with a stamp canceling the old registration from the same Internal Affairs section, you must once again apply with a request to be registered at the new place of residence with the whole package of accumulated documents. It is possible, after a few more days of waiting, to get the passport with the registration stamp indicating the new place of residence.

This procedure can take much longer if it turns out, at one of the stages, that some paper is missing from the package of documents. For example, it is necessary to submit at every point in this journey, in addition to papers confirming the right to live at the new place of residence, a certain document based on the tenants register at the previous residence, a copy of the financial account, and a certificate confirming the absence of any arrears. If a minor is involved in the process, special permission from the guardianship and wardship agencies may be required. If, God forbid, the applicant is divorced, notarized approval from the former spouse (whose place of residence, after all, might be unknown) may be required. In view of the need to have at hand the complete package of these and other documents, and taking into account the fact that passport officials in housing offices work three days a week, and, as a rule, the queues waiting outside their offices are so long that, realistically, it is not possible to be received within one day, one must expect that the registration procedure at a new place of residence could last for months. Meanwhile, the citizen who does not have the final registration cannot send his children to school, receive a medical-insurance policy, or solve any of the big or little problems of everyday life. It is natural that against this background it is vitally necessary for Muscovites to grease the palms of those in the passport offices; no measures combating corruption will make a difference so long the existing procedure is retained. And it will be retained until the time when the administration stops regarding each citizen, seeking registration, as a speculator or trickster.

Indefensible complexity and confusion in bureaucratic procedures is an excellent breeding ground for "incorrigible" Moscow corruption. The only reasonable way out of the existing situation is to start taking into consideration the social aspect of the administrative agencies' activities. Taking into account the social consequences must become a compulsory additional criterion when introducing any administrative procedure. It is necessary for new rules to be convenient not only for the functionaries who impose them but also for the population that must comply with them. Some thought must be given to the time spent by citizens solving their problems, the conditions under which these problems are solved, the attendant psychological stress, and so on. There must be a balance between management and social feasibility (even now, from the point of view of management, the effectiveness of many administrative decisions is doubtful).

A textbook example of what must be changed is provided by the notorious State Automobile Inspectorate. The fact that people are ready to pay a fine two to three times larger than the official sum directly to the traffic inspector is predictable and understandable, given the alternative. The proper and legal route entails the loss of two work days, something few people can afford. These days would be expended on the simple bureaucratic procedure of paying a fine through the State Savings Bank and receiving one's documents, the next day, at the State Automobile Inspectorate. As a rule people are eager to pay any sum on the spot to avoid a worse punishment-the punishment of lost time and queues. The traffic inspector who pockets the money is regarded as a savior, while the one who plays by the rules is considered as the incarnation of bureaucratic evil. The solution? Give official permission to the traffic inspectors to receive the fine on the spot, writing out a receipt, and the eager desire of Muscovites to put money in the inspector's pocket will disappear.

This would apply as well to technical motor-vehicle inspections. The complexity and confusion involved in obtaining a document certifying a technical checkup has resulted in the emergence of an entire industry in Moscow serving car owners wishing to save time. It would be possible, of course, to transfer the right to carry out automobile inspections to maintenance stations, which would then be held accountable for the quality of their work and would lose their certification if they were not up to the mark. Do this, and the current problems would cease to exist. But the administrative structures are not interested in any such measures, since the control function would become more complicated for them. That is why the prevailing trend in the development of administrative services is to create still harsher conditions governing the life of the average Muscovite.

The situation grows intolerable. Clearly, we need to achieve a compromise between the administrative need for control and the population's need to save time and energy-especially as it goes about the task of solving the bureaucratic problems the government poses. It is simple enough, today, to single out the most serious trouble spots in a social, quality-of-life sense. Indeed, here is a list. Thoroughgoing reform is desperately needed in the following areas:

• All registration procedures (passport service, registration office, and so on);
  
• All licensing procedures (licensing committee, various departments coordinating permissions, and the like);
  
• The reception of citizens in the lower echelons (housing offices, subprefectures, social security agencies, and others);
  
• The distribution of services of all kinds (housing committees, Moscow City Country House Trust, and others).

Amelioration in any of these areas, ordinary as it might sound, would be tantamount to a revolution, a benign revolution.

Vladimir Pastukhov is a professor at the Moscow School of Economics and a lawyer in private practice in Moscow. He is also an adviser to the Duma, and, from 1994-99, was a consultant to the Central Electoral Commission in Russia.

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