Difference between revisions of "Avos (Russia)"

It is worth briefly considering the history of the idea. There is an ageless proverb, ‘русский бог—авось, небось да как-нибудь’ (The Russian god is chance (avos’), probably, and yes, somehow) which has been extolled, lamented and satirised by Russian writers from Alexander Pushkin onwards. In the 19th century the notion that avos’ was somehow like a god for the common folk was used, for example, by the novelist Pavel Mel’nikov-Pechersky when he was contemplating the secrets of the economic success of the Old Believers (dissenters who broke away from the Russian Orthodox Church in the 17th century). He wrote that what separates the upstanding, prudent, hard-working Old Believers from the lazy peasants belonging to the mainstream Orthodox Church is that they have escaped from the fatalism of ‘the primordial law of the Russian person, ‘the Russian god—avos’.’ The Old Believers are virtually all active and efficient, he wrote, and therefore prosperous, whereas the Orthodox peasants, prey to avos’, are an inert, slack and reckless lot only too happy to ‘eat at others’ expense’ (Mel’nikov-Pechersky 1868)<ref>Mel’nikov-Pechersky, P. 1868. Otchet o sovremennom sostoyanii raskola v Nizhgorodskoi gubernii http://az.lib.ru/m/melxnikowpecherskij_p/text_0200.shtml</ref>.

It is worth briefly considering the history of the idea. There is an ageless proverb, ‘русский бог—авось, небось да как-нибудь’ (The Russian god is chance (avos’), probably, and yes, somehow) which has been extolled, lamented and satirised by Russian writers from Alexander Pushkin onwards. In the 19th century the notion that avos’ was somehow like a god for the common folk was used, for example, by the novelist Pavel Mel’nikov-Pechersky when he was contemplating the secrets of the economic success of the Old Believers (dissenters who broke away from the Russian Orthodox Church in the 17th century). He wrote that what separates the upstanding, prudent, hard-working Old Believers from the lazy peasants belonging to the mainstream Orthodox Church is that they have escaped from the fatalism of ‘the primordial law of the Russian person, ‘the Russian god—avos’.’ The Old Believers are virtually all active and efficient, he wrote, and therefore prosperous, whereas the Orthodox peasants, prey to avos’, are an inert, slack and reckless lot only too happy to ‘eat at others’ expense’ (Mel’nikov-Pechersky 1868)<ref>Mel’nikov-Pechersky, P. 1868. Otchet o sovremennom sostoyanii raskola v Nizhgorodskoi gubernii http://az.lib.ru/m/melxnikowpecherskij_p/text_0200.shtml</ref>.

Avos’ is associated with informal, off-the-cuff practices. For example, an avozka was the string-bag people used to carry in Soviet times just in case they came across something good to buy on their way to work. In post-Soviet times it is assumed that the days of the avozka are over (‘You’ll find it in a museum!’) and, with its peasant associations, people today rarely use the word avos’ to describe their own actions—even if in fact they act in exactly this way. On the other hand, they are all too ready to apply the word to others. This contrast is apparent in the following statements, collected during the author’s fieldwork in Vladivostok in 2015, concerning Russia’s highly risky real-estate business. A young man who had paid in advance for an apartment that, as it transpired, was never built, and having lost all his money, recounted: ‘I didn’t think of checking the reputation of the firm. You can’t call it rational. I knew it was risky. I understood that the firm had been set up more or less on the principle of a pyramid but—ha, ha, I hoped that the firm would collapse only after I received my flat.’ Another man, when asked why he had been so idiotic as to put down his entire life-savings for a flat in similarly uninsured and legally dodgy circumstances, replied: ‘Well, it was there—on my way to work. There was the house going up. There was the sales office. And inside, there was the contract. So I signed.’ Commenting on such occurrences, the director of an estate agency said, rather pompously, ‘It is common to find sad cases of avos’. When buying flats with obviously suspect documents but a price well below the market rate, a considerable proportion of our citizens continue with arrangements, even though any foreigner would have long ago fled from such fishy schemes. Sometimes when searching for a flat for clients I have to push them away almost by force from dubious offers that seem to them extremely profitable’ (RIA Nedvizhimost’ 2013).

Avos’ is associated with informal, off-the-cuff practices. For example, an avozka was the string-bag people used to carry in Soviet times just in case they came across something good to buy on their way to work. In post-Soviet times it is assumed that the days of the avozka are over (‘You’ll find it in a museum!’) and, with its peasant associations, people today rarely use the word avos’ to describe their own actions—even if in fact they act in exactly this way. On the other hand, they are all too ready to apply the word to others. This contrast is apparent in the following statements, collected during the author’s fieldwork in Vladivostok in 2015, concerning Russia’s highly risky real-estate business. A young man who had paid in advance for an apartment that, as it transpired, was never built, and having lost all his money, recounted: ‘I didn’t think of checking the reputation of the firm. You can’t call it rational. I knew it was risky. I understood that the firm had been set up more or less on the principle of a pyramid but—ha, ha, I hoped that the firm would collapse only after I received my flat.’ Another man, when asked why he had been so idiotic as to put down his entire life-savings for a flat in similarly uninsured and legally dodgy circumstances, replied: ‘Well, it was there—on my way to work. There was the house going up. There was the sales office. And inside, there was the contract. So I signed.’ Commenting on such occurrences, the director of an estate agency said, rather pompously, ‘It is common to find sad cases of avos’. When buying flats with obviously suspect documents but a price well below the market rate, a considerable proportion of our citizens continue with arrangements, even though any foreigner would have long ago fled from such fishy schemes. Sometimes when searching for a flat for clients I have to push them away almost by force from dubious offers that seem to them extremely profitable’ (RIA Nedvizhimost’ 2013).