If you are interested in all things Russian (and since you’re reading our blog, I guess you are), then it’s likely you regularly read (or rather, view) the posts from EnglishRussia.com. If you do, then you likely have seen this post about an old craftsman who takes the meaning of «жить по-царски» [to live like a tsar] quite literally. I was amazed to see the kind of work this man’s done using old-fashioned simple tools. Which got me thinking…

It seems that Russians have a complicated and very contradictory view of Russian workmanship. Sure, there’s undoubtedly lots of pride in Russian ingenuity, inventiveness and ability to create state-of-the-art end results on decidedly shoe-string budget.

As the saying goes, «голь на выдумку хитра» [lit.: poor folks have a knack for inventions; necessity is the mother of invention].

The quintessential story of a Russian «мастеровой» [artisan, craftsman] is Nikolai Leskov’s «Левша», or “A Story of Cross-eyed Lefty from Tula and the Steel Flea”.

The story, written at the end of the 19^th century, is one of the mandatory readings for all Russian schoolchildren. The plot revolves around a competition of a sort, between English craftsmen who made a tiny mechanical flea and a lonely Russian craftsman who one-upped them by putting tiny horse shoes on each of the flea’s legs.

If you’ve ever been puzzled over Russian desire «показать Западу кузькину мать» [to teach the West what’s what] and its constant obsession-bordering competition with the West (think space exploration and Olympic Games), I urge you to read the story (in Russian, if at all possible).

It has all the essential elements:

Russian master craftsman is most likely self-taught and from a humble background.  Russian air and soil, the innate Russian-ness of the countryside and its people (kind of like terroir effect on wine) and not fancy university degrees are the fundamental ingredients of a true craftsman.

Russian craftsman is unappreciated, neglected or even purposefully «притесняется» [oppressed] by the government to whose very might and glory he strives to contribute.

Russian craftsman is driven by his love of work and a sense of duty and does not even think about financial rewards. (Nice contrast to Western materialism here)

Russian craftsman, poor and neglected as he usually is, has to make do with the most basic tools and scrounge the materials. His Western counterparts, on the other hand, have top-of-the-line equipment and access to any and all resources.

But when it comes to competing with the West, Russian craftsman, when he puts his mind to it (or when he is “persuaded” by the government), always wins.

These are the fundamentals that combine in the archetypal «мастеровой» [craftsman]. Don’t believe me? Consider this modern-day Levsha’s work and his life story:

Nikolai Aldunin was born in a small township; worked as a machinist and lathe operator – neither of the jobs requiring a college degree; became interested in whether it was really possible to «подковать блоху» [put shoes on a flea] and learned the secrets of the craft on his own.

Unlike the original Levsha, he does have a bit of a support from the government in the form of periodic newspaper articles and unending promises to open a museum of his work.

You see, all the elements are still present, over a hundred years after the original Levsha was written.

With so much emphasis on unbeatable Russian craftsmanship, it seems weird that «Сделано в СССР» [Made in the USSR] and, later on, «Сделано в России» [Made in Russia] wasn’t exactly the mark of quality. Unlike American jeans, Finnish furniture, South Korean electronics or even Chinese thermoses, «отечественные товары» [domestic goods] were not something desirable and did not inspire pride. Ok, there was an exception as the song goes: «в области балета мы впереди планеты всей» [when it comes to ballet, we are ahead of the entire planet].

From the Soviet times, anything «сделано в России» [made in Russia] had a «реноме» [reputation] of being unreliable and requiring frequent repairs.

Even when foreign companies started bringing their technologies, production equipment and spare parts to assemble them in Russia, it was reported that «после того как та или иная марка начинает производиться в России, качество её меняется нередко не в лучшую сторону» [once a brand starts being manufactured in Russia, its quality oftentimes changes and not for the best].

Don’t you think it’s a paradox worth thinking about? Have you bought something “Made in Russia” recently? Please share your experience.