Russia's Grandfather Frost fights the invading Santas

The never-ending battle for the soul of Russia is taking a serious new twist this winter. Ded Moroz, in his guise as Grandfather Frost, one of the guardians of the eternally tormented soul, is having to defend his territory against the relentless and technologically sophisticated advance of Father Christmas. The Western-backed interloper, known also as Santa Claus, is using the weapon of presents to advance his cause.

The never-ending battle for the soul of Russia is taking a serious new twist this winter. Ded Moroz, in his guise as Grandfather Frost, one of the guardians of the eternally tormented soul, is having to defend his territory against the relentless and technologically sophisticated advance of Father Christmas. The Western-backed interloper, known also as Santa Claus, is using the weapon of presents to advance his cause.

"We have gone through a rapid Americanisation of everything since the Iron Curtain fell," says Alla Aliyeva, a professor at the Institute of World Literature in Moscow. "Santa Claus has ridden into children's hearts and minds on a wave of commercialisation, somewhat eclipsing the traditional figure of Grandfather Frost."

Frost, a mythical character rooted in ancient fairy tales, was promoted by the former Communist regime to serve as a Slavic and secular bringer of gifts and New Year's cheer to Soviet children. Unlike his - to many Russian eyes - effete Western counterpart, Frost is untainted by political correctness. He smokes, swills vodka continuously, and is always seen on the arm of his nubile young female companion, Snegurichka (Snow Maiden). Now some politicians and business leaders are trying to revive the old legend to defend traditional Russian values - and contemporary commercial interests - against Western hegemony symbolised by Santa.

A huge portrait of Frost, sporting his trademark crystal staff and fur-lined coat, has been mounted this year on top of the Hotel Moskva, just by the Kremlin wall. It is part of a campaign by Moscow's mayor, Yury Luzhkov, to Russianise the winter holidays, and will include visits by Frost and the mayor to schools, hospitals and shopping malls next week.

But all over central Moscow huge billboards promoting Coca-Cola feature a rosy-cheeked and bespectacled Santa Claus. In a nearby department store, a stylised plastic Santa soars in his reindeer-driven sleigh high above the toy department.

"There is no conspiracy; Santa just comes in with promotional materials and products from outside the country," says shop assistant Irina Vanina.

"We have already passed into the world market, and there is no going back," says Luna Koneva of Comcon, a Moscow advertising agency. "Santa Claus is a worldwide cult, and the challenge is to find the right niche for Ded Moroz in this world. It is a bad idea to encourage competition between the two, as some are doing."

Talk of worldwide cults and conspiracies does not seem to agitate Russian children, who have few problems with the idea of two elderly gents bearing seasonal gifts. "Grandfather Frost is skinny and wears a long robe," says Natasha Leonova, 12, shopping with her mother at Moscow's Detski Mir toy store. "Santa is fat and always laughing. I think he's German."

For many adults, Frost is not merely the stuff of their Soviet-era childhood memories; he is one of them. Lean, earthy and profane, his capricious approach to handing out presents seems to appeal to the famous fatalism that inhabits such a large part of the Russian soul.

"No lists of who's been naughty or nice for him," says Marina Volkova, an actress who rents herself out as Snegurichka for holiday parties. "Grandfather Frost rewards children for making him laugh, for being energetic, or just because he feels like it."

Orthodox Russia celebrates Christmas on 7 January, though the festival was banned by the Communists for 70 years. The Soviet-era holiday of New Year remains the key day for feasting and gift-giving.

Actors playing Ded Moroz at parties and school events usually depict him in a dishevelled state, with a jug of vodka and leaning heavily on Snegurichka. Youthful audiences love it.

"Frost is an absolutely Russian guy," says Natalya Vidanova, press secretary at Moscow City Hall's public events department. "He throws tantrums, he sips vodka, he dishes out punishments as well as rewards, he has Snegurichka by his side.

"Santa seems a rather abstract and passive character by contrast. And he has only reindeer and those awful elves for companions. Who would want to invite him to a party?"

Not many, it seems. Moscow theatrical agencies report that requests for private appearances run about 10 to 1 in favour of Frost over Santa.

"When Russians are holding a party, they feel comfortable having Grandfather Frost show up," says Yanna Mavrena, manager of Karnival 2000, an agency that rents out both characters. "Santa is a creation of world culture, a big TV star and a foreigner. Grandfather Frost is our man."