Recently the Moscow government passed a special decision intended to save the capital's textile industry, which is in need of serious help. The plan invloves all the usual measures: cheap credits, state orders, subsidies for utilities and rent, etc.


But there is at least one knowledgeable person who claims that neither these nor any other extraordinary measures will work. That man is Alexander Panikin, the manager of a large Moscow textile plant. His factory may be the only one in this business that has a steady market for its product, stable profits and a bright future.


The unusual thing about Panikin's factory is that it is not a privatized government enterprise, but his own personal company, which he built and equipped himself from the beginning. This story deserves some attention, especially against the background of claims that new businesses in Russia only go into financial services, never production.


Six years ago, Panikin -- the former director of a Moscow theater -- created a small cooperative called Chelnok, which employed several people to sew underwear, ballet shoes and other small items that immediately became popular. Moreover, Panikin did not waste his profits on luxury cars or suburban houses, but instead used it to expand production. In time, a number of kiosks appeared in the city selling only Panikin's goods.


By the beginning of the 1990s, Panikin's enterprise had grown from six sewing machines to a small, highly versatile unit producing a variety of goods including training suits, dresses, jackets, T-shirts and blouses. He owned modern, imported equipment and had a small network of kiosks in good locations throughout Moscow. His low prices and high quality -- one of his training suits costs about $12 to $15 -- brought him good profits, which he unhesitatingly plowed back into his business.


Next, he managed to get several small parcels of land in Moscow and began building branch factories. This process was, to be honest, on the edge of legality. Panikin rightly figured that since he was building a factory to produce clothing, the authorities would be unwilling to close him down and would simply legalize his concern. Also, all of this was happening in 1991 to 1992, when the bureaucrats had all lost their normal points of reference and did not really know what to do.


Today, Panikin's enterprise employs more than 1,000 people in well-paid positions. As far as quality goes, we can judge by one fact: Moscow's McDonald's restaurants recently began ordering uniforms for all its employees from Panikin. The entrepreneur knows what he is talking about when he says that he is not afraid of Korean, Taiwanese or Turkish producers. And he said that, by the way, before McDonald's had placed its order.


Panikin's story is also interesting because he has never participated in any of Russia's numerous programs designed to help small and middle-sized businesses. This was not because he did not want to, but because no one ever called him. One wonders what these programs are spending their money on.


Panikin also will not get control over any of the state textile plants in Moscow. The authorities simply will not give it to him, no matter how successful he is. That is why he is convinced that Moscow's textile industry is doomed to a slow death. The old managers are incapable of saving it, but they will not give it up to new ones.