Conducting consumer research in America presents its own set of difficulties, such as time constraints, budget concerns, and getting the right information from the right people. But imagine trying to do research in the Soviet Union, where until very recently capitalism was officially considered a dirty word and where "shopping" is little more than extended waits in several lines.

These were just some of the obstacles faced by Dr. Ernest Dichter, a pioneer in the field of motivational research, when he visited the Soviet Union this spring to investigate Soviet citizens' reactions to consumer goods and advertising, to uncover, as he puts it, "the soul of the Soviet consumer." It was one of the first of what will undoubtedly be many journeys into Soviet research as the U.S.S.R.'s nascent capitalism blossoms under Mikhail Gorbachev's perestroika.

Dichter was asked to do the research as part of a joint venture between an Austrian communications company, M D Enterprises, and a Soviet publishing company, Vneshtorgizdat.

"MD hit on the idea of establishing a center in Moscow to facilitate East-West trade," Dichter says. "They called and asked if I'd like to be a consultant."

Born and educated in Vienna, Dichter emigrated to the U.S. in 1938 and began conducting his psychological research in marketing and communication. Over 50 years and 6500 studies later, he has established himself as an expert in motivational research. In addition to guiding his company, Ernest Dichter Motivations, Inc.—which is headquartered in Peekskill, New York, with branches around the world—he is professor of marketing at the Westchester Campus of Long Island University.

The work of a motivational researcher is devoted to uncovering the hidden reasons why consumers make decisions—reasons hidden especially to the consumers themselves. It is a difficult task, Dichter says, because to get at the "truth," you must ask the right questions in the right manner.

"When you want to know why, you run a number of risks," he says, "because by asking people for the reasons behind their actions, you can get erroneous, rationalized answers. And by making it too verbal, you also risk getting wrong answers, because you're asking the respondent to diagnose his behavior himself. The Greeks already knew that the most difficult job is to know one's self."

He cites an example from one of his early studies for Chrysler Corp. Based on interviews it had conducted, the car maker was convinced that men made the car buying decision. But when the company began to question the research findings, it consulted Dichter. Instead of asking the respondents to tell him who made the decision, Dichter asked each one to describe exactly what had happened when they bought their last car.

"A typical answer was 'We got into our old car, we went from one dealer to another, we compared trade-in allowances, we took a test drive and we bought the car.' And I would stop them and ask How come you're saying 'we' all the time? I thought you made the decision. And they would say 'Oh, I forgot, my wife was along.'"

Based on this, Dichter recommended that Chrysler address their advertising more prominently to women. It did, and sales took off.

"It is the motivational researcher's job to uncover the 'why,' because we don't even know why ourselves, and if we did we would probably repress it," he says. He expected repression of a different sort to hinder the Soviet consumer interviews, but though some respondents were initially hesitant to participate because of fear of government surveillance, most spoke freely.

Dichter and his colleagues had a list of possible participants for the research, but they also depended upon word of mouth to gather subjects, asking participants to recommend people who might be willing to take the survey. It wasn't a strictly scientific approach, but given the political climate, the enormity of the country, and a host of cultural and bureaucratic barriers, he says, it was difficult to apply the same sampling standards used for a Western-style public opinion survey.

The interviews typically lasted about 30 minutes, depending on each respondent's level of talkativeness. To familiarize the Soviet interviewers with his style of questioning, Dichter brought with him an interviewing guide already translated into Russian.

''I'm more inclined to conduct the interviews in a free rambling way. We use a guide instructing the interviewer to lead the conversation but not to interfere. When the respondent gets off the subject we don't stop him, because often you get the most valuable information from these asides."

The most surprising findings came in the area of the Soviets' perception of advertising, particularly Western advertising, and the existence of brand consciousness.

"I expected that they would be rather hostile vis-a-vis western advertising, calling it frivolous and so on, but we found a great deal of admiration for it. They said it was sort of a glimpse into heaven, a door half open. They said 'There are all these things, we wish we could get them.' It's a very fertile ground for modem advertising."

Those interviewed had very few criteria to determine the quality of a product, Dichter says. Some brand names were well-known, and frequently, a product's perceived quality was dictated by its country of origin. Tests were performed placing labels which said, for example, "Made in Switzerland," "Made in USA," "Made in USSR," or "Made in Germany," beneath various products. While the study isn't finished yet, Dichter says, "Made in USA" had a very high preference, while "Made in USSR" didn't.

Though this type of test yielded clear-cut answers, Dichter also used a number of projective tests, similar to a Rorschach test, where respondents were required to project themselves into a situation by explaining what was happening in a picture. For example, one image featured a sun half visible over the horizon. The respondent was asked: Is it rising or setting? Which country is it in?

"That's a better way of asking 'What are you satisfied or dissatisfied with in your communist country?' "

The use of this kind of open-ended question put him at odds with a member of the Soviet sociological institute that assisted during the interviewing.

"We use a lot of open-ended questions in motivational research to get free flow of associations from the people. He didn't understand this because he only knew about quantitative research. He wanted yes and no answers. He finally came around, but he kept wondering about the picture of the sun on the horizon, asking 'How can you tabulate responses to it?' "

Along with occasional professional difficulties, Dichter also experienced cultural problems. Upon arrival in Moscow, it took him two hours to check in to his hotel, despite having reservations and paying the necessary bribe. The hotel was miserable, he says, a huge Pentagon-like fortress with seven guarded entrances.

He speaks of corrupt taxi drivers who tell you to get out of their cab if you question the steepness of their flat fare rate. They are part of an underclass, he says, who survive by illegal means, by, as the Russians say, "Doing things the left way." For example, a chauffeur for a top government official will run side trips to make extra money while waiting for his passenger to return, or he will siphon gas from the car and sell it.

Dichter says he thinks the Soviets are hopeful that Gorbachev will be their salvation, but some are not convinced he will last. "The reaction commonly was 'What good is perestroika if we still can't buy the things we need?' "

Gorbachev's changes also apparently haven't quelled Soviet interest in America. Dichter's hotel room was broken into, but instead of taking money, the burglars made off with several interior photos of an American supermarket which Dichter had brought with him.

"I went to a supermarket near my office and took photographs so that I could show them (to people in the USSR), and before I could do that, they were stolen!"

Though some Soviets have decided to stick it out and wait for things to improve under Gorbachev, Dichter says nearly everyone he spoke with wanted to know if he could help them get to America. "That always came at the end of the discussion," he says. "They would always say 'By the way ...'''