LITKARINO, Russia - Milk is likely to become steadily more rare on Moscow's store shelves this winter, and when it does, parents can blame the stubborn legacy of the Soviet command economy.
Along every step of milk production, demands of the free market such as consistent quality are clashing head-on with the artificially low prices and obsession with meeting volume quotas that plagued Soviet agriculture for decades.
A tale of two cows in the Moscow region, one reared on a small private farm according to Swedish traditions, the other by a state-run collective farm steeped in Soviet-era techniques, vividly illustrates the problem.
At the Swedish Farm in Glazovo, 60 kilometers northwest of Moscow, Lyubasha is expecting her second calf and, fortunately, has all the food she cares to eat.
By contrast, resident 7, 176 at the Lenin Collective Farm in Litkarino, 18 kilometers southeast of Moscow, often finds her trough empty and can expect even less this winter, according to Mikhail Baglayev, the farm's assistant director.
"Cows lived better under socialism when they had plenty to eat", said Baglayev, who keeps a photo of Lenin above his desk. "Now, some have dry teats".
That is because Russia's farmers do not want to produce fodder when state-controlled prices mean they cannot earn a profit on the foods. Poor weather has not helped matters, agriculture experts say.
Not only is cow fodder in short supply, it is often lacking in nutrients, a qualitative factor that Russian agricultural planners often ignore.
"The Soviet system of reporting quantities and being praised for quantities has had a negative influence in this process", said Ingemar Nilsson, the Swedish Embassy's agricultural counsellor. "They usually have too little feed for the Russian cows and the quality is very low".
Lyubasha, who weighs in at 550 kilograms, does not have to worry about going hungry this winter because Alexei Kochetkov, 52, a private Russian farmer, has planned ahead with guidance from a Swedish couple on the farm.
"If I don't milk the cow tomorrow, I won't have any money, so I'll go bankrupt", said Kochetkov. "We'll feed them as much as they want".
Ultimately, it is $1. 5 million of modern farm equipment that makes the difference. It will keep Lyubasha's winter food from suffering one of Russia's most nagging agriculture problems: rotting.
The Swedish agriculture firm Alfa-Laval has installed a modern, air-tight storage silo, where only 1 or 2 percent of foodstuffs like oats and barley is lost due to decay, according to Sture Soderstrom.
By contrast, Russia's 27, 000 collective farms and 14, 000 state farms lose half their produce in storage and transportation due to lack of refrigeration and other shortcomings, according to Alexander Mikhailov, the top expert on collective farms at the Agrarian Union of Russia.
Despite these hardships, some Russian cows such as 7, 176 and her colleagues still produce impressive quantities of milk. Their average output of 6, 000 liters per year towers above the national average of 2, 500 and puts them on a par with average West European and American levels, at
around 6, 000 to 8, 000 liters per year.
Well above the Russian average, cow 7, 176 actually produces more milk than the 5, 000 liters Lyubasha lactates each year at the Swedish Farm. But Swedish Farm organizers say Lyubasha's output is rising fast, and they stress that the milk she produces is of a higher quality.
Whereas electronic machines press milk out of cow 7, 176 three times a day, Lyubasha is milked only twice a day to assure better quality. At the Lenin Collective Farm, the liquid is kept at 10 degrees Celsius, but Lyubasha's milk is stored at a cooler 3. 8 degrees Celsius as an additional safeguard against bacteria growth.
Quality aside, specialists at the Russian Agriculture Ministry and the U. S. Department of Agriculture expect a further 10-percent fall in Russian milk production this year.
At the Lyubertsy city dairy a short drive away from the Lenin Collective Farm, about 12 percent of all milk that arrives is of substandard quality, said Lyudmila Strokina, the dairy's microbiologist. Once there, hygiene problems can arise from the aging tiling, dripping pipes and cockroaches.
"There are cockroaches in the factory; they can fall into the milk", said Vladimir Nikolayev, chief engineer at the plant. "All enterprises have them".
Nikolayev would fix that if he could, but it takes money. State farms and collective farms such as the Lenin Collective Farm are on the brink of bankruptcy, said Mikhailov of the Agrarian Union. Of former Soviet-run farms, 95 percent are now losing money, he said.
At a milk store in Lyubertsy, the final resting place for cow 7, 176's milk, Vladimir Nikol, 77, a pensioner and World War II veteran, grumbled about the current price of 14 rubles a liter. But he said he would pay even more if he had to.
"We have to have milk, so we'll buy it, even at 30 rubles", he said.
Along every step of milk production, demands of the free market such as consistent quality are clashing head-on with the artificially low prices and obsession with meeting volume quotas that plagued Soviet agriculture for decades.
A tale of two cows in the Moscow region, one reared on a small private farm according to Swedish traditions, the other by a state-run collective farm steeped in Soviet-era techniques, vividly illustrates the problem.
At the Swedish Farm in Glazovo, 60 kilometers northwest of Moscow, Lyubasha is expecting her second calf and, fortunately, has all the food she cares to eat.
By contrast, resident 7, 176 at the Lenin Collective Farm in Litkarino, 18 kilometers southeast of Moscow, often finds her trough empty and can expect even less this winter, according to Mikhail Baglayev, the farm's assistant director.
"Cows lived better under socialism when they had plenty to eat", said Baglayev, who keeps a photo of Lenin above his desk. "Now, some have dry teats".
That is because Russia's farmers do not want to produce fodder when state-controlled prices mean they cannot earn a profit on the foods. Poor weather has not helped matters, agriculture experts say.
Not only is cow fodder in short supply, it is often lacking in nutrients, a qualitative factor that Russian agricultural planners often ignore.
"The Soviet system of reporting quantities and being praised for quantities has had a negative influence in this process", said Ingemar Nilsson, the Swedish Embassy's agricultural counsellor. "They usually have too little feed for the Russian cows and the quality is very low".
Lyubasha, who weighs in at 550 kilograms, does not have to worry about going hungry this winter because Alexei Kochetkov, 52, a private Russian farmer, has planned ahead with guidance from a Swedish couple on the farm.
"If I don't milk the cow tomorrow, I won't have any money, so I'll go bankrupt", said Kochetkov. "We'll feed them as much as they want".
Ultimately, it is $1. 5 million of modern farm equipment that makes the difference. It will keep Lyubasha's winter food from suffering one of Russia's most nagging agriculture problems: rotting.
The Swedish agriculture firm Alfa-Laval has installed a modern, air-tight storage silo, where only 1 or 2 percent of foodstuffs like oats and barley is lost due to decay, according to Sture Soderstrom.
By contrast, Russia's 27, 000 collective farms and 14, 000 state farms lose half their produce in storage and transportation due to lack of refrigeration and other shortcomings, according to Alexander Mikhailov, the top expert on collective farms at the Agrarian Union of Russia.
Despite these hardships, some Russian cows such as 7, 176 and her colleagues still produce impressive quantities of milk. Their average output of 6, 000 liters per year towers above the national average of 2, 500 and puts them on a par with average West European and American levels, at
around 6, 000 to 8, 000 liters per year.
Well above the Russian average, cow 7, 176 actually produces more milk than the 5, 000 liters Lyubasha lactates each year at the Swedish Farm. But Swedish Farm organizers say Lyubasha's output is rising fast, and they stress that the milk she produces is of a higher quality.
Whereas electronic machines press milk out of cow 7, 176 three times a day, Lyubasha is milked only twice a day to assure better quality. At the Lenin Collective Farm, the liquid is kept at 10 degrees Celsius, but Lyubasha's milk is stored at a cooler 3. 8 degrees Celsius as an additional safeguard against bacteria growth.
Quality aside, specialists at the Russian Agriculture Ministry and the U. S. Department of Agriculture expect a further 10-percent fall in Russian milk production this year.
At the Lyubertsy city dairy a short drive away from the Lenin Collective Farm, about 12 percent of all milk that arrives is of substandard quality, said Lyudmila Strokina, the dairy's microbiologist. Once there, hygiene problems can arise from the aging tiling, dripping pipes and cockroaches.
"There are cockroaches in the factory; they can fall into the milk", said Vladimir Nikolayev, chief engineer at the plant. "All enterprises have them".
Nikolayev would fix that if he could, but it takes money. State farms and collective farms such as the Lenin Collective Farm are on the brink of bankruptcy, said Mikhailov of the Agrarian Union. Of former Soviet-run farms, 95 percent are now losing money, he said.
At a milk store in Lyubertsy, the final resting place for cow 7, 176's milk, Vladimir Nikol, 77, a pensioner and World War II veteran, grumbled about the current price of 14 rubles a liter. But he said he would pay even more if he had to.
"We have to have milk, so we'll buy it, even at 30 rubles", he said.
A Message from The Moscow Times:
Dear readers,
We are facing unprecedented challenges. Russia's Prosecutor General's Office has designated The Moscow Times as an "undesirable" organization, criminalizing our work and putting our staff at risk of prosecution. This follows our earlier unjust labeling as a "foreign agent."
These actions are direct attempts to silence independent journalism in Russia. The authorities claim our work "discredits the decisions of the Russian leadership." We see things differently: we strive to provide accurate, unbiased reporting on Russia.
We, the journalists of The Moscow Times, refuse to be silenced. But to continue our work, we need your help.
Your support, no matter how small, makes a world of difference. If you can, please support us monthly starting from just $2. It's quick to set up, and every contribution makes a significant impact.
By supporting The Moscow Times, you're defending open, independent journalism in the face of repression. Thank you for standing with us.
Not ready to support today?
Remind me later.
Remind me later.
×
Remind me next month
Thank you! Your reminder is set.
We will send you one reminder email a month from now. For details on the personal data we collect and how it is used, please see our Privacy Policy.