The Power Of The Press

This is how it used to be.

When the potatoes have been put down in the cellar, when the mushrooms have been dried for the long winter and the jam made, when all that’s left is to slaughter the pig for the November celebrations – that’s when the villagers start getting their newspaper and magazine subscriptions in, when Auntie Nina, the mail carrier, hobbles from door to door, signing folks up for the coming year. And there’s profound meaning behind all this. First, it shows faith in a bright future. Because what kind of a pessimist would pay money in advance without knowing for sure that he’ll be around to read that newspaper? Second, it proves that you’re someone who really cares about politics. Because it’s one thing for the television to jabber at you about milk production, the five-year plan, and American capitalism, but it’s something else altogether to open the paper and study the subject inside and out until you really get it. Third, the villager can make all sorts of practical use of the printed word and the paper it’s printed on. So most people are more than willing to lay out a kopek or two on newspaper subscriptions, which brings the mail carrier a bonus for her trouble. The more subscriptions, the bigger the bonus.

Of course everybody wants Crocodile, the magazine with the cartoons and funny stories, and The Spark, with its colorful illustrations and love stories, and The Soviet Screen, with its photos of movie stars and its coming attractions... Those who take a mindful view of life ask for the popular magazines Science and Life or Around the World, for their articles about countries that nobody in the village will ever visit. But copies of those magazines are few and far between, in short supply all over the country. There are lots of newspapers, though, to suit the villagers’ need for simple, pithy, and easy to swallow. Nothing that’s over their heads. Just the latest Communist Party congress, Party policy, the Baikal-Amur railroad, how Soviet industry is doing...