42 / CHRONICLESnsecularized society and now realize, innthe words of a visitor: “In the SovietnUnion God was replaced with socialistnmorality; in Sweden He was replacednby nothing.”nEric Brodin is an emigre from Swedennand a professor of the philosophy ofnbusiness at Campbell University.nLetter From Albionnby Andrei NavrozovnViktor’s Spetsnaz, John’s SouthwesternnLast September, some readers may recall,nmy letter was devoted to ViktornSuvorov, the pseudonymous writer andnformer GRU officer who now lives innEngland under yet another assumednname. It has taken me nearly a year tontrack down the author of Spetsnaz.nSoon after our conversation begins, henrecites in Russian:nIn’41nrich lodes from mother earthnby our shovelsnwill again be wrestednAnd possiblyna fuel meant for allnwill be uranium,nby cyclotrone sequestered.nLike any yearnfor victory, for scopenof coal and metallurgynwe are headednAnd possiblynto the existing sixteen crestsnin due course new onesnwill be added.nBut let me begin from afar, as thenRussians are fond of saying.n”Southwestern” is the abridgednname of a publishing company in thenU.S. which recruits college students tonsell its products, mostly Bibles and encyclopedias,nduring summer vacations. Angraduate of the “Southwestern” schoolnof commercial daring is expected tonknock on an average of 3,000 doors pernmonth, apply secret methods of persuasionnlike “Selling Through the ScreennDoor,” rejoice in being arrested forntrespassing or shot at by a reluctantnprospect, and otherwise prove his devotionnto the free market ideal duringnevery one of his 16-hour days. (Henknocks on his first door of the day atn7:59 A.M. Disregard of the rule —nknocking at 8:00 or 8:03—is, in thenopinion of the managers, a sure signnthat he won’t make it at Southwestern.)nThus schooled, the Southwesternnsalesman finds it difficult to function inna less competitive environment; thencompany’s training cry, “I feel happy, Infeel healthy, I feel teRRRific!” is likelynto sound in his head at 5:00 A.M. fornthe rest of his life, and a Yale friend ofnmine who had “done Southwestern”nonce confessed to have completed thenyear’s course work in one week, annaccomplishment he was shrewd enoughnto conceal from his professors. Today,nJohn runs a major television distributionnnetwork in Los Angeles; needless to say,nhe credits neither Yale nor even hisnbeloved Harrow with his success.nSuccess is the opening subject of myndiscussion with Viktor Suvorov, whichntook place under circumstances I havenagreed not to reveal. Suvorov is thenauthor of four books, in addition tonSpetsnaz: The Liberators, describingnhis 1968 mission of peace to Czechoslovakianwith a motor-rifle companynunder his command {Soviet MilitarynIntelligence); and Aquarium, in whichnhe tells of his own training as annintelligence officer, his life as a rezidentnspy, and his subsequent defection.nBut what, the puzzled reader maynask, does all this have to do withnsuccess? Or door-to-door salesmen innTexas, for that matter?nA free society, Suvorov and I soonnagree, is designed for life, while antotalitarian society is designed for war.nHence success is defined by the rulesnand practices of these two societies innradically different ways, and the samenapplies to their means of allocatingnresources, their attitudes to humannabilities and achievements, their systemsnof punishments and rewards.nGrowing up in a “closed zone” of ancountry hidden from Western eyes fornover half a century, Suvorov had notnseen a man in civilian clothes —n”without epaulettes,” as he puts it —nuntil he was a teenager; yet how manynAmerican children have ever been insidena tank? Nearly all U.S. helicoptersnlanded at Dasht-e Kavir to rescue thenhostages held by Iran had failed tonnnfunction; on the other hand, Sovietntractors perform no better. More carsnare owned, per capita, by the poornblacks of South Africa than by thenSoviet population; but NATO submarinesnare made of steel, while thenSoviets have started making theirs ofntitanium, the “space metal” 1.5 timesnstronger and twice as light. The Sovietsncan’t feed their own people? True, butnthey produced 170 million tons of steelnin 1984, while in the U.S. 242,000ntons was the total used that year for alln”ordinance and other military” needs.nAnd yes, a “Southwestern” teenagerncan outsell, outwit, and outearn a Sovietnminister for trade; yet even a Sovietnschoolboy is liable to know more aboutnwar than Paul Nitze.n”I wanted to be a commandingnofficer since I could walk,” says Suvorov.n”When Stalin died I was five, andnI remember asking my father incredulously:n’Why are we telling everyonenhe is dead? The Americans will thinknwe are vulnerable.'” It was this abilitynto think clearly, together with his remarkablenmemory and physical stamina,nthat opened the doors of success fornSuvorov when he joined the “Aquarium,”nGRU’s Moscow headquarters,nafter attracting the favorable notice ofnhis superiors during an exercise innwhich his tank company unexpectedlynbroke out of the tank park by demolishingnit, and later proving himself worthynof that notice by his service record innSpetsnaz. After being shown a film ofnOleg Penkovsky, the most importantn(and probably the last) agent Westernnintelligence has ever had in Russia,nstrapped to a conveyer belt edging itsnway into the open mouth of a crematoriumnfurnace, he was offered a chancento change his mind about his promotion:n”We have a simple rule,” he wasntold. “It’s a rouble to get in, but two tonget out.” Moved by the ambition thatnmarks born soldiers east of the Elbenand born salesmen west of the Mississippi,nhe opted for the rouble.nIt was as a writer, not as a spy, that Indiscovered Suvorov. “I have never readnanything as powerful as Spetsnaz,” Inwrote in this space last September.n”Were the reading public more interestednin the immediate prospects fornthe survival of our civilization than innthe opinions of the Nobel committee,nthe name of Viktor Suvorov—on thenstrength of this book alone — wouldn