Feeling sick? Doctors unable to help? You could always do what hundreds of others do: seek alternative forms of treatment at the hands of one of the city’s «traditional healers,» or skhodit k babke — the little old lady with the magic jar of ointment, who can do what the best of medical technology cannot.
But according to an announcement made last week by the St. Petersburg Licensing Chamber, alternative healers of all descriptions will no longer be legally allowed to continue their practices unless they qualify for a license.
«We need licensing legalization to put a stop to people who are discrediting our work,» said Oleg Shapiro, vice president of the St. Petersburg Professional Medical Association for Traditional Healers.

The association is the closest thing the city has to a governing body for practitioners of alternative medicine. It is headed by Natalia Shereiko, a neurophysiologist by profession, who first attended courses of alternative medicine out of curiosity

«As a doctor, it was a real shock when I learned how to see a human being as if he were transparent,» said Shereiko, «and to see that the functions of the body do not always work the way that professional medicine describes them.»
Speaking at the association’s offices on the Petrograd Side this week, She reiko demonstrated her art on a client, Va lentina. During a 10-minute session of Shereiko placing her hands on her body, Valentina said she felt a warmth, a feeling «difficult to put into words.» For the most part, however, the Traditional Healers Association is unwilling to reveal much information about its patients.

And it does not by any means encompass the full range of spiritual healers, parapsychologists, hypnotists, witch doctors and others who have long been popular among RussiansToday, says the association’s spokes person, Angelica Zaitseva, there are around 3,000 healers of various types in the city, whose services can run from 50 to 1,000 rubles. Only 100 of them, however, are members of the association.
Zaitseva said she was unsure how many people in St. Petersburg availed themselves of the services of traditional healers, but made an estimate in the «hundreds of thousands.»
Almost anyone who was not a doctor but who offered cures was working illegally in the Soviet Union, although self-proclaimed magicians and herbologists continued operating quietly.
It was at the beginning of the 1990s, however, when the rules were relaxed, that figures such as Uk rainian parapsychologist Anatoly Kashpirovsky became nationally famous. Kashpirovsky claimed to send impulses of energy through the television screen that aided a person’s health or state of mind.
Similarly, Alan Chumak had shows during which the faithful would place bowls of water before the television or radio, waiting to receive his positive energy. Drinking or washing in this water, Chumak said, would cure ailments.
The fuss died down after a 1993 law prohibited some of these activities, and theoretically required traditional healers to obtain licenses. But the law was largely ignored, say both the association and local health authorities, and even today, healing gatherings are still advertised.
Now, it seems, the Licensing Chamber, the Traditional Healers Association and even City Hall have decided enough is enough.
The Licensing Chamber wants to enforce the law more rigorously, to require traditional healers to get licenses, and to impose fines on media outlets who run advertisements from unlicensed healers.
In order to obtain a license, a traditional healer must first be a member of the association. Healers must present the council with their patients’ addresses, case histories, and details of how they were analyzed and treated. In certain cases, Sha piro said, healers may be asked to demonstrate their methods.
A council of experts set up by the City Health Committee then considers the qualifications of a candidate. The council consists of nine leading city specialists in such fields as neurology, psychotherapy and traumatology, as well as Shapiro of the Traditional Healers Association.
But the Traditional Healers Association is opposed to the most stringent requirement: medical education.
«Probably no more than 30 percent of traditional healers have a medical education,» said Zaitseva. «In fact, such knowledge could even be detrimental to their work, because traditional healing methods have nothing to do with regular medicine. They are different schools.»
The level of education does not have to be very high: It is sufficient to have qualified as a nurse, rather than as a fully fledged doctor. But healers with no medical experience at all will be forced to work under the supervision of a doctor who is qualified in the relevant field.
Vladimir Zholobov, deputy head of the Health Committee and chairman of the expert council, said that the importance of a medical education could not be ignored.
«Ultimately, we shoulder the responsibility when we approve [a license for a] traditional healer,» Zho lo bov said.
The expert council has already examined four applicants, all members of the Traditional Healers Association. Three of them had a medical education and received a certificate from the council, the ticket to getting a license. A fourth was told he could only work with a doctor.
Zholobov admitted that the little old lady with the magic potion would probably not bother applying for a license.
But Vadim Pozharov, head of the medical department of the Licensing Chamber, said she would have to. «Otherwise, such activities are illegal,» he said.
Perhaps a little extra-sensory perception might help sort out the real alternative healers from the fakes. Zaitseva said she learned how to see through walls and read people’s minds on a traditional healing course a few years ago.
«I know it sounds absurd, but that’s what I experienced,» she said. «And believe it or not, many people can learn these abilities. But it’s not always a pleasant thing to be able to do. Sometimes, people’s thoughts are best left unread»

By Irina Titova
Staff Writer

The St.Petersburg Times Issue #657 (24)
Friday, March 30, 2001. Top Stories