Testing Glasnost's Boundaries

By David Brand

For the Soviet Union it was a case of the unthinkable becoming reality: Glasnost, a 55-page unauthorized journal of comment whose editor had served nine years in prison for his dissident views, was being allowed to circulate freely. In a country for so long enmeshed in secrecy, a publication openly printing what it pleased was certain to be quashed. In early August the paper Vechernaya Moskva (Evening Moscow) accused the new journal of waving "anti- Soviet banners." The future for Glasnost and its editor, Sergei Grigoryants, looked bleak indeed.

But nothing has happened. Glasnost, like Soviet Leader Mikhail Gorbachev's policy of the same name (meaning openness or public disclosure), has survived and expanded. Two weeks ago, the second edition of the magazine, now up to 184 pages, was distributed. Among the articles: details of new emigration rules and recent actions by the KGB -- subjects barely covered by the official press. Whether the Vechernaya Moskva article was intended as an official warning is unknown. What is certain is that only two years ago Grigoryants would have been bundled off to a labor camp. Instead, like the editors of the country's 8,500 approved newspapers and 1,500 magazines, he remains at liberty to test the boundaries of press freedom, Soviet style.

Since Gorbachev came to power in 1985, calling for greater candor in reporting domestic affairs, censorship of the press has come under increasing challenge by editors and reporters. Many now feel free to debate government action, criticize officials, stir up controversy and publish readers' opinionated letters about the bureaucracy, all without consulting the censors of Glavlit, the organization that protects state and military secrets. Articles on drug addiction, prostitution and youth gangs are unveiling the darker side of Soviet society. Disasters such as mine accidents, floods and train crashes, once ignored by the press, are now routinely covered. "We are working on enthusiasm and adrenaline," says Dmitri Biryukov, 32, foreign editor of the weekly Ogonyok (Little Flame).

Perhaps the greatest surprise has been the turnaround in the once gray and stilted Izvestia. The official government newspaper is selling 8 million copies a day, up from 6.7 million two years ago, thanks to its transformation under Editor Ivan Laptev into a lively collage of reporting and commentary. "For Soviet readers, Izvestia is the most interesting newspaper around," says Ogonyok's Biryukov. In early August the paper published an interview with a military officer whose duty it is to push the launch button at a nuclear missile center. Never before had a Soviet publication reported in such detail on a missile site and the men who operate it.

A few other journals are also being snatched off the newsstands as soon as they appear. Probably the most sought-after paper in the capital is the provocative Moscow News, which was the first Soviet publication to run the full story of Mathias Rust's Red Square landing. Readers sometimes buy the paper, which is primarily intended for foreigners, for ten to 20 times the official cost of 10 kopecks (16 cents). Ogonyok, which two years ago was largely unread, now sells out all 1.5 million issues every week. Under the editorship of Vitaly Korotich, the magazine has published a 1939 testament from an exiled Bolshevik denouncing Stalin as "the real enemy of the nation, and the organizer of famine and fake trials." It also sent a young reporter to Afghanistan to write candid accounts of the increasingly unpopular war.

The new policy of glasnost, though, is breeding confusion among editors, who now must decide themselves what to print. In July, Gorbachev warned Soviet journalists that openness and democracy "do not mean permissiveness." He seemed to be defining glasnost's limits when he told them that any attempt to advocate economic and cultural reforms "beyond socialism" will be censured. In fact, editors know that many subjects remain strictly taboo, such as the private lives of top party officials or criticism of Soviet arms-control proposals.

Freedom of the press as defined in the West is still a foreign notion in the Soviet Union. Rather, discussions among Soviet journalists about a free press concentrate on how much editorial independence is needed to help Gorbachev in his efforts to modernize the economy and revitalize the country. Glasnost, Soviet experts note, was not intended to mean freedom of information for information's sake.

The policy has also led to squabbles within the official press. Last month, for example, Molodaya Gvardiya (Young Guard) attacked Ogonyok and Sovietskaya Kultura (Soviet Culture) for their liberal leanings. The two journals shot back with equally harsh words for Molodaya Gvardiya's out-of-date views. Pravda, the Communist Party newspaper, intervened with a commentary calling the articles "rude" and a warning that scores should not be settled in print.

Despite the well-publicized efforts of a few pioneering journals, most Soviet reporters are quite cautious. Pravda, possibly because it is the party's official voice, is still timid and dreary. Provincial editors remain largely untouched by glasnost, rarely daring to emulate the investigative journalism of papers such as Izvestia.

The paper's ebullient journalists sometimes seem to get a little ahead of their sources. At a recent press conference, an Izvestia reporter rose to challenge a Deputy Foreign Minister's comment that there had been an increase in emigration for the purpose of bringing together families. Why, asked the reporter, are more of these families "not being reunited on Soviet territory instead of abroad?" Grumbled an abashed minister: "I would have thought we could expect a more convenient question from a representative of Izvestia."

With reporting by James O. Jackson/Moscow