It's often been noted how many of those who took part in the marches and demonstrations of America's rebellious 1960s ended up joining and succeeding in large corporations, whose values they once so openly disdained.
The 1980s in the Soviet Union was also a time of great social and political change, and the life of Andrey Pleskonos, now general director at Kodak Ukraine, is a good example of the transition from public activism to corporate responsibility.
Despite his pure Cossack name - "It means that something was wrong with the nose," he explains - Pleskonos isn't
a rebel by nature.
"I just remember after graduation how we students used to talk about how everything is clear, for example, my future. Probably I would join an institute, get a Ph.D. and become
a teacher," he recalls.
Like both his parents, Pleskonos had studied chemical engineering in college. Later he went into cybernetics, which was the rage at the time.
Also raging at the time was popular discontent over the Soviet Union's limited freedom of speech, civil rights and concern for the environment. This was the decade of the Chernobyl disaster, and its fallout was particularly felt in Ukraine.
Public protests, meetings and rallies became increasingly more common as the decade came to a close. "From time to time," Pleskonos too took part. "I wasn't among the organizers but I associated with some of them," he said.
This was also the time that international organizations like Greenpeace began getting interested in Ukraine. Pleskonos soon learned through some friends that Greenpeace was looking for a local logistics person.
"For some reason they made an offer to me. I just think maybe because they didn't want to go into the contaminated areas ...
I was just a young engineer." Pleskonos's fair knowledge of English, scientific background and experience as an activist also must have made him a good choice.
As for his motivation, besides the fact that a job with an international organization must have looked highly attractive during the economic throes of perestroika, Pleskonos liked Greenpeace. "They came here not with the typical aim of protesting. They came here with the idea of helping, first of all, children ... Half of the visitors were doctors."
But the work was a challenge, involving trips to areas affected by the Chernobyl blast. "After these, I had to throw away some of my clothes," Pleskonos said. Eventually, Greenpeace offered him a permanent position that would better prepare him for the corporate world. For two years, he helped organize medical treatment and the import of equipment. Then he moved into fundraising, public education, public relations, etc.
This meant getting the Greenpeace message across to post Soviet society, Pleskonos explains. "We had to basically translate their understanding to the local community." And sometimes the way the message was delivered showed all the creativity of a modern advertising campaign.
One Chernobyl Day, Pleskonos organized the hanging of a banner over the digital clock on Independence Square in Kyiv. The Greenpeace people were afraid of the country's intelligence services, he says, "but that was a time when no one knew what was permissible and what was forbidden." As it turned out, the authorities didn't know what to do, and so the event was a big success.
Not all the promotions for Greenpeace went off so easily. A few times, Pleskonos got hauled away by the police along with other demonstrators. "You had to believe in it, or otherwise it would have been hard to do it," he says.
By the mid 1990s, much of the independence-movement euphoria had been replaced by fierce competition for a place in the new economically challenged country. It was in 1994 when Pleskonos joined Kodak, also on a tip from some friends.
"There were not many people who had experience with commercial organizations or international companies. Most of the choice here in Ukraine was non-profit or charity," he recalls. Oddly enough, "Greenpeace was known for strong marketing ... They had strong marketing guys."
Starting out as a local representative, Pleskonos worked his way up to deputy director and then general director. Throughout the years, the company's activities haven't changed much, he says, only the scale of the operations. The company now boasts around a thousand Kodak shops throughout the country, where film is sold and developed. But these are franchises. Kodak never opened a factory in Ukraine and limited itself to making film paper in Russia, because the market must be very large to justify the purchase of equipment.
It was the investment-intensive nature of the film business that put Ukrainian film producer Svema behind international giants like Fuji and Konica, Kodak's main competitors in Ukraine. Pleskonos's team primarily looks after distribution - of film, paper and, increasingly, digital cameras.
Even though many people continue to use film cameras, the number of digital cameras sold climbs every year. According to Pleskonos, Kodak saw the light a few years back and successfully entered what was essentially a new market for the U.S.-based company.
In addition to digital cameras, another important product for the future is printing machines for digital film, which will become more and more common. "You used to just see them in airports, but in the future they will be standing alone at trade centers and the like," says Pleskonos as he demonstrates the features of what looks very much like an office copying machine.
Now forty two years old, married and the father of a young man who just graduated from high school, Pleskonos has entered what he refers to as the "empty-nest" period of his life. Favorite hobbies include culinary history and travelling.
"The way that we do it with the family, we never stay in hotels near the sea, where everything is included." Instead the Pleskonoses often drive to and around various destinations in Europe "to know more and more deeply about the country." Pleskonos also has to travel quite a bit in his job, but as he puts it: "It's an absolutely different impression." Born in Latvia, where he only stayed a few weeks, and having lived in Egypt for a year as a boy, maybe wanderlust is in his blood. Or maybe, like many of his generation, he just keeps moving with the times.
|
