RADIO : Travels in the country of great big ifs

LAST MONDAY a nurse explained why my daughter had been called for a diphtheria vaccination. Outside lurid old films, she herself had never seen a case of diphtheria - indeed, the disease had been virtually wiped out until the Soviet Union collapsed, and, with it, the Russian vaccination programme. Soon afterwards, cases began to be reported in Russia and now children in Sussex are considered to be at risk. Later in the week, I listened to Geoffrey Hosking examining the state of Russia, Five Years On (R3) and it all became clearer.

If Louise Greenberg is listed as producer, we can expect thoughtful, polished programmes, and these five conversations were no exception. Professor Hosking talked to wise individuals with wide experience of life in contemporary Russia. The only certainty about it is that nothing is certain. Russia is neither a hopeless maelstrom of anarchy nor a peaceful haven of freedom. It is much more complicated. On the positive side, there is at last an active, free press: it may be run by millionaires, but at least they are native Russian millionaires. The idea of a democratic vote has taken a firm hold, though it is likely that those who voted for Yeltsin were registering their dislike of Communism - while those who chose the Communist candidate were protesting against the inadequacies of Yeltsin.

More worryingly, Russia has an enormous, scattered and unruly army. Used to getting privileged treatment, soldiers now find themselves without adequate housing, direction or even pay. Crime is so widespread that rich men support private armies for protection: it is likely that the estimate of five million young armed men, often under the command of local warlords, is unrealistically low. Yet, here again, that is not the whole story. Our own Ministry of Defence is retraining Russian army officers to become surprisingly successful accountants and car mechanics.

Perhaps most fascinating is the abiding historic and idealistic hatred of the very notion that land can be privately owned. This has resulted in dangerous agricultural stagnation: in a country well able to feed itself, 70 per cent of food is still imported. Still, at the end of all this highly sophisticated and instructive talk, one little candle burned hopefully. If it were possible to guarantee a period of political stability, Russia has all the makings of a great, booming, free society. It's a big if.

Should diphtheria return, heaven help us. According to The Hospital - A Prognosis (R4), it's quite possible that we'll just have to wrap up warm, take plenty of fluids and not bother the doctor. That is perhaps a cynical response to Geoff Watts's assessment of the future of medical care, but it was enough to make you despair. He predicts the closure of nearly all district general hospitals in favour of a few remote, super- specialist centres - and the expansion of GP services to include minor surgery. Yet his programme began with a visit to a splendid new London hospital - custom-built, beautiful and working well. Couldn't we just have more of those instead, I asked my radio: but answer came there none.

The University (R4) received a different course of treatment when visited by Brian King, masquerading as a fly on the wall. It was good fun. The institution in question was Warwick University, which is, reassuringly, just what you'd expect: lecturers worrying about funding, students getting drunk, Security asking people to calm down (six times in three minutes). A would-be president of the student union practised his hustings joke: What's grey and flat and kills you when it falls out of a tree? I'll tell you later. For now, you can imagine the tone of infinite resignation in Security's voice as he commented to his colleague: "And this is the brains of the future."

If you want to know how Edith Sitwell tried to get Robert Robinson sent down from his university, you'll have to read his book. It is called Skip All That (R4), and he often does. The passages he does read, though, are remarkably good: beautifully written and often haunting. He can pinpoint the most traumatic moment of his life: it was the day Captain Ferguson was hanged, when Robinson was five. Until then, he'd been a carefree little boy, growing up in the suburbs surrounded by nothing more troubling than the clatter of milk bottles, the churring of a hand-held garden spray and the squeak of a swing. Then Captain Ferguson, his brisk, boring neighbour, cut his mistress/sister's throat and the comfort of trusting childhood was gone for ever.

Robinson was unlikely to have made use of advice from newspapers, then or later. Yet Pure Agony (R5) revealed just how many of us do. The first agony aunt was an uncle, a chap called John Dunton. He'd never get away with it now. He advised a woman who regretted her single state to take lodgings in Wapping and waylay the fleet. Lola Berg's series interviewed some of the most famous pocket psychiatrists in print and concluded, along with Irma Kurtz, that to succeed in the job you have to be nosey and bossy. I hope the next two programmes in the series will take a closer look at the powerful influence these self-appointed gurus have, and why so many miserable people depend on their often dubious advice.

Much better to go for a brisk Walk (R3). "Every day, I walk myself into a state of well-being," Patrick Wright's delightful essay began, before sauntering off down the byways of the world with determined walkers - with Rimbaud rollicking around the seedy ports of the Mediterranean, with Wordsworth trotting about on his unattractive legs, with Dante steadily trudging through Purgatory. It was enough to make you strap on your boots and venture out - but, by the way, if you do, try to avoid any trees that might be harbouring large grey flat car- parks: they'd finish you off if they fell.