The space industry is set to receive 8 billion roubles
Prime Minister Vladimir Putin visited the Khrunichev State Research and Production Space Centre (GKNPT) yesterday and pledged to allocate over eight billion roubles to support the industry. Kommersant's Andrei Kolesnikov couldn't help but notice that while some were trying to save the industry, others were helping to destroy it - by welding the seams improperly.
The first impression of the Khrunichev Research and Production Centre (its direct relation to the space industry is easily discernable from the buildings' facades, which resemble a shuttle's foamed and partially crumbled heat shield that miraculously survived its entry into the Earth's atmosphere) is that it operates under wartime rules, and more specifically, Soviet wartime rules.
At the entrance to the main workshop where rockets that my six year old son can only dream of (and I, too, occasionally dream of) are assembled, hangs a sign with instructions dating back to 1975, though they are still enforced in 2009. The instructions read: "Do not enter the workshops and sections through windows," "do not argue with the guards," "do not throw any items over the fence." Placing any items on the ground closer than four metres from the fence (apparently with the intention of throwing them over the fence later) is also prohibited.
Clearly, these instructions are not incidental and must have been prompted by experience. The last rule is one that categorically forbids "aimless wandering around the plant's territory."
Compared with the tough security measures taken during Vladimir Putin's visit, the 1975 instructions looked more like rules at the local swimming pool for children under the age of three. And yet, there were quite a few people violating the last point of the instructions and idly strolling around the plant's territory (it occupies a whole city district and can take about 20 minutes by car to cover it from end to end, provided there are no traffic jams, of course). My first impression was that there was absolutely no need to worry about the cleanliness of space, which has been a matter of concern for many public and government organisations as of late.
However, while in the rocket-launchers' assembly workshop, I realized that my initial impression may have been wrong, since there were in fact people working there. From what I could tell, there were about six finished or nearly finished rockets, though I might have mistaken the parts of a rocket for a finished rocket. The parts were so big that they were quite easy to mistake for one.
There was nothing ordinary about this huge workshop and even the dust on the window seals seemed cosmic.
In addition to Proton rockets, the body of the Angara rocket also lay in the workshop. It is considered the future of the Russian space industry. And it may as well be considered its past, since it has already been in development for several decades.
Work on the rocket was in progress. The workers were young men; some of whom had joined the Centre immediately after college and stayed with the company ever since. At the moment, they were busy welding seams, as the instructions required, and they did it with the utmost seriousness, unlike many others on the floor, who merely imitated active work to impress the Prime Minister, but in reality idly wandered around, or, more accurately, idly stood in their spots.
I then realised that another rule posted at the entrance - "Alert welders before opening the gate" - must have been referring to these young men, as they were clearly the ones welding. In just a few moments, my suspicions were confirmed, although I wish they had not been.
As I soon learned, the rule did indeed refer to these young men. I was told that opening the gates of the workshop could cause a draft that would blow out the nozzle on the welding device. We, mere mortals, would be better off not knowing the consequences of such an event.
Either way, it may very well be that the fact that the nozzles of the welding devices were not blown out at just the right time by a draft of some sort was the cause of the misunderstanding that occurred right before the Prime Minister's arrival. A young worker wearing an earring stood next to the huge trunk of the Angara rocket, the pride of the country's rocket building industry, and argued with an older worker of about 50 or 55 who was clearly upset.
"Why do you think it's our fault? We were told to weld it and we did. We did everything according to the guidelines."
He even went and fetched a thick book, which apparently contained the guidelines that they were supposed to follow.
"Here it is, the ‘Welding of Seams' point! It says ‘weld seven seams'. That is exactly what we did. We didn't do anything wrong. If only three seams had to be welded, you should have marked it or made a footnote of some kind..."
"Just wait, I'll make a footnote for you right now!" the older worker responded angrily.
Another worker, older and higher in rank, came up to them.
"You should have welded to this point only," he said thoughtfully. "There's still plenty of work to be done inside the rocket, but you've already welded the seams. What are we supposed to do now?"
"We followed the guidelines," the younger worker dispiritedly insisted. "You should have made a footnote..."
Some people might be stripped of their ranks, I thought to myself.
Fortunately, the Prime Minister was expected to arrive in 7 minutes, and the "discussion" was postponed.
Vladimir Putin showed great interest in the workshop, despite the fact that this was not his first visit to the plant (he came here three years ago). For the plant's management it was essential that the Prime Minister pay attention to the stands rather than the rockets, since it was the stands that provided exhaustive justification for the government's support of the Khrunichev Centre and, subsequently, the entire space industry (the centre employs 120,000 people).
"Our plant delivers every third kilogram of space cargo to the orbit," Vladimir Nesterov, the plant's general director, explained.
It seemed to me that he wanted to emphasise to the Prime Minister that the cargo delivered by the centre didn't simply turn into space debris soon after reaching orbit.
"This year, we were supposed to take part in ten rocket launches. Two launches were cancelled because of the economic downturn, two satellites were successfully launched, and hopefully, the remaining launches will still take place, too. But we need your support. Unfortunately, we've accumulated a substantial amount of debt..."
The structure of the Centre's debts appeared on a TV screen. A considerable portion of the debt belonged to the American company Lockheed Martin, which used to form a joint venture with the Khrunichev Centre and the Energiya company.
"Why did you need the American company?" Mr Putin asked, and it looked like he was unpleasantly surprised.
"Let me explain," the director responded.
The explanation was as follows: When Lockheed Martin left the joint venture back in 2006, the Khrunichev Centre paid the debt owed to the American company for the equipment (as I later learned confidentially from a source at the plant) supplied by Lockheed Martin as part of the joint projects which were never implemented.
So the plant was forced to pay the $135 million in joint venture debts, since the equipment and Russian technologies would have fallen into the wrong hands otherwise.
"If all of this went to our competitors," Mr Nesterov explained, "we would have lost our jobs!"
To repay the debt, the Khrunichev Centre had to borrow funds and as a result accumulated even more debt. Additional debt was then accumulated after the plant paid $350 million to buy the ownership rights to the Angara rocket from the Americans.
Currently, the Khrunichev Centre's total output is worth 24.5 billion roubles, whereas its debt stands at 26.14 billion roubles. For the Angara rocket to reach the testing ground in 2011, the plant will need an additional 10 billion roubles - at least.
"In 2008 prices," Vladimir Nesterov further clarified.
"Why is that? The materials are getting cheaper, aren't they?" Mr Putin asked.
"Not really, they're getting more expensive. Besides, some extra work has come up, as it usually does..." the director said.
"I'd like to give you some good news," Vladimir Putin said, approaching a group of workers who stood at the same spot where they had been arguing about improperly welded seams just a few minutes ago.
Other people were standing there now, though I saw those young workers as well, including the one with the earring.
"I have some good news for you, we haven't cut the funding at all", the Prime Minister continued, addressing the workers. "On the contrary, we have allocated an additional eight billion roubles!"
The workers were overjoyed to hear the news, as if the Prime Minister had personally handed the funds out to each of them in cash. The amount was less than the general director had asked for, though not by much (he might have even counted on this when asking for more).
"Hopefully, this will help you get through the economic downturn," Vladimir Putin said.
It reminded me of the scene from the film Live and Dead, where a general walked from one surviving soldier to another after a fierce battle, handing out orders and repeating, "This is all I can do for you, all I can do..."
At that moment, an older worker told his younger colleague:
"See that woman wearing glasses next to Putin? That's the Finance Minister."
It is probably for the best that Elvira Nabiullina, who indeed stood next to the Prime Minister, didn't hear the conversation.
Vladimir Putin was about to leave the workers when an ordinary Russian woman (who, it later emerged, was Galina Churikova, a supply manager) told the Prime Minster, "Thank you for raising Russia from its knees!"
Mr Putin turned thankfully to the woman, a mother (and probably grandmother), and a real embodiment of Russia. This apparently gave her the nerve to continue.
"I wish you would raise the pensions, too!.."
With that, it was obvious that she was ready to stand up again.
Vladimir Putin took her words very seriously. He spent about ten minutes trying to explain to her the details of the pension reform, emphasising the importance of the substitution coefficient (at which point she became visibly bored).
Either way, the government measures that the Prime Minister tried to explain did not concern the woman (except for the fourfold indexation of the pensions in the course of the year). The information was in fact quite relevant for the young workers with earrings, but they didn't seem too interested in what the Prime Minister was saying. Apparently, the topic was not very important to them, although it certainly should have been.
Almost everything that Vladimir Putin said at the meeting on industry development, he had already announced at the workshop. The emphasis in his speech was on the 8 billion roubles that had been allocated to the Khrunichev Centre. He also stressed that despite the two-fold reduction of the draft budget, the funds earmarked for the space industry had not been cut.
The meeting itself was noteworthy mainly for the delay in its commencement. Almost all of the meeting's participants were present and waiting for the Prime Minister to arrive. Deputy Prime Minister Sergei Ivanov, who coordinates the space industry and science, returned to the room after a momentary absence. He looked rather excited about something and told Elvira Nabiullina, "The Karakulcha (a very valuable fur made from sheep embryo) with a nanotechnology coating is already on display in the salons! And they say that nanotechnology is a myth!"
Nevertheless, I returned from the Khrunichev Centre with a sense of reassurance. Even if all the plant's other projects come to nothing, the Karakulcha with a nanotechnology coating will successfully be on display in the salons!
And why will it succeed? Because it has a nanotechnology coating.