It's 6 a.m. and I am at Moscow's Leningrad Railway Terminal. "Taxi anyone? Taxi?" Cab drivers are offering their services to people with heavy bags who have just arrived in the capital. "Come on, the rates are low," says Yuri, a weary looking middle-aged private cab driver. He has been working the area for years, everyone knows him, and he knows everyone, so he has no problem with his battered old Zhiguli 6 sedan. There are plenty of potential fares and all the cab drivers are in good spirits. But all of a sudden their mood changes abruptly as a strange car pulls up at the parking lot. "Look man, you can't stop here. Get out of here!" Good-natured Yuri changes beyond recognition. "Well, I'm minding my own business," the stranger says. A minute later the square resonates with angry shouts and threats. It does not come to fisticuffs, and the stranger pulls away quickly. But in the not-so-distant past they say punch-ups were common here. Yuri's car has neither a seat belt nor a child seat, and it seems to be on its last legs, but it's good enough for him. His good mood is back and he's even humming a tune.
Moscow's unlicensed cab drivers come from all walks of life. The trend started in the 1990s with its upheavals. Many of those who failed to "fit into a market economy" became gypsy cabbies. Fifteen years ago, Yuri was a research associate at a state scientific research institute making barely enough to buy cigarettes. There were thousands of people like him in Moscow at the time. Now their generation is on its way out, almost completely superseded by ‘out of towners' - immigrants from depressed parts of Russia or post-Soviet states. ‘Taxi jihad' and ‘Caucasus gypsy' have now become well-known comic figures in Moscow. They are the ones who will typically pull up if you choose to flag down a taxi. Often they only lose money: a novice who does not know the city may agree to take a passenger to a place on the edge of town for just 100 rubles ($4). Anyone who more or less regularly uses their services will agree that they are all very different. One will go out of his way to prove to you that there is no God, while another will cross himself when he sees a church even when he has to make a 90-degree turn (the steering wheel is left to the will of the holy spirit). One has an advanced degree, while another has not completed secondary school. What they all have in common is that the key positions in the unlicensed taxi business are held by people of ‘Slavic appearance' so you will not see a single person with a ‘clearly Caucasian' appearance at any squares abutting Moscow's railway terminals.
Organized Gypsy drivers vs. ‘System' cabs
Working the railway terminals has since the perestroika era been the realm of ‘organized' unlicensed cabbies. They live according to their own laws and are well coordinated. There is even a kind of a ‘poetry of unity' in their organization: indeed, where else can you see the "all for one and one for all" principle applied in practice? Take, for example, the street fight outside Kursk railway station three years ago, when unlicensed cabbies drove New Yellow Taxi crews from their turf. Needless to say, the licensed taxi company gave as good as it got. As a result, the brawl got into police reports and the company filed a complaint with City Hall and the Prosecutor's Office, which put the squeeze on the gypsy cabbies. The Moscow city Transport and Communications Department drafted a law, "On the Taxi Service in the City of Moscow," which was adopted in the first [out of three required] reading by the city legislature in January.
The bill is designed to streamline the taxi service. Should it be passed, Moscow will become the first city in Russia where the taxi business will be effectively regulated. The document in particular provides for the creation of a special executive body within the city administration to supervise carriers operating as part of the Moscow taxi service system. This agency will have two major ‘trumps' in its hands - the traditional checkered taxi signs, which only ‘system' carriers will be allowed to display on their hoods, and taxi stands in the city's busiest places, which may be used by authorized service providers only. Authorization will be granted to those using cars equipped with modern safety systems, including child seats. Moreover, taxi drivers must be fluent in Russian, know the city, and undergo regular medical checks. Taxi service providers will be included in the city registry free of charge, but they can forget about ‘off the book' income: taxi meters will be monitored and tax checks will be conducted on a regular basis.
is the Gypsy Cab Mafia Invincible?
On the whole, the bill appears to be quite reasonable and timely: when it becomes law, it may indeed make life easier for licensed taxi companies, which will no longer be threatened by iron-bar wielding gypsy cabbies. Stepan Orlov, chairman of the Moscow City Duma Urban Development Commission, says that he has been looking forward to a good law curbing the unlicensed operators. It is not quite clear from the text of the document, however, which specific measures will help drive them off the the Moscow streets. After all, it does not provide for mandatory licensing of taxi services, but only regulates the operation of legal taxi companies. The only provision in the bill that could really put the squeeze on the unlicensed business is the point about taxi stands. If Muscovites learn to pick up a ride at certain spots in the city and if only licensed operators are allowed to work them, gypsy cabs may indeed disappear. However, the question of taxi stands in the city, especially near railway terminals, has yet to be dealt with: this will require additional bylaws and regulations. As long as there are none, it is too soon to kiss the gypsy cab mafia goodbye. But even when they are driven away from railway terminal squares, unlicensed cabbies will still have a huge market at their disposal - metro stations and night-time service. Licensing all commercial transit is the tax inspector's dream, but only a dream. They cannot really expect to check the IDs of all passengers or outlaw the noble practice of giving a free ride, which is still quite common in the provinces. True, there is yet another option - to raise gasoline prices for private car owners in Moscow, which would make unlicensed operation (or driving a low-occupancy vehicle) uneconomical. But this measure will create an uproar among the majority of Muscovites.
So the gypsy cabbies will still be around for a while. Especially considering that Yuri and his buddies are a great help to Muscovites who have not as yet learned to call taxi by phone. The fact is that licensed taxis do not like picking up fares off the street. They have their reasons: operators are afraid of criminals and advise them against this; others do not stop because they have already been booked and are on their way to a client, while still others stand firm on observing traffic rules and do not stop where they may not. By contrast, gypsy cabbies will readily cross over three lanes for a street pick-up.
History
The Moscow authorities have long dreamed of regulating cab drivers. By the late 19th to early 20th century, there were rather strict regulations for horse-drawn cab drivers, including requirements for the carriage, driving skills, and dress code. Thus, in the 1870s-1880s, cab drivers were supposed to wear caftans (long outer garments) with "a hemp-padded back seat." The carriage was to be in good working order, tidy and clean, while in the winter season it was to be equipped with a fur cover to protect passengers' feet from the cold. Carriages had special license numbers which policemen could confiscate for gross infractions. True, it almost never came to that: police never refused to accept an on-the-spot fine. City authorities repeatedly attempted to regulate horse-drawn cab parking lots outside railway terminals: special booths were set up with dispatchers or traffic superintendents who were supposed to organize the operation on the first-come, first-served basis. However, cabbies, then as now, had their own idea of fairness: a superintendent was offered a kickback and the line was formed in accordance with the drivers' internal hierarchy. Over fifty years of regulation, the authorities of pre-revolutionary Moscow ensured stable treasury revenues but were unable to defeat the "railway mafia."
By Anton Razmakhnin
