Russia: Static Defense

Communist jargon and classical music are the usual radio diet of the Soviet citizen. But during five years of U.S.-Soviet detente, listeners in the Soviet Union had a simple alternative. A flick of the dial pulled in Western news, commentary—and even the throbbing beat of hard rock music. Moscow's decision in June 1963 to abandon jamming Western programs was an indication of the U.S.S.R.'s interest in a rapprochement with the Western world. Now the jamming is on again.

Within hours of the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia last August, the Western broadcasts that had boomed through so clearly for half a decade were once again obscured by artificial static that overrode many broadcasts. The resumption of jamming was obviously an attempt to muffle the world's outcry against the invasion by Soviet troops, and it represented no small effort. The Soviets switched back on all their coldwar jamming devices, which some experts number in the hundreds. They consistently tried to blank out the Voice of America, the BBC and West Germany's Deutsche Welle, and at various other times jammed French, Italian, Swedish, Turkish and even Monacan stations. That massive Russian station break still persists.

Patient Fiddlers. Unfortunately for Kremlin censors, it is more difficult—and sometimes even more expensive—to jam programs selectively than it is to send them. Western broadcasters get their programs through either by taking advantage of Soviet technical lapses or by employing classified tricks of their own. And once through the barriers, they have an eager and well-equipped audience. Short-wave transmitters are much more common in the Soviet Union than in other nations because the vast size of the nation makes short-wave transmission the most practical way to reach the entire country. Perhaps as many as 30 million receivers are now in use, and listeners have become so fond of outside news and pop music (a recent headliner on the Voice of America: the Beatles' new album) that they are determined to stay tuned—if not to one station, then to another. By fiddling patiently with their dials, Russians overcome their government's effort to block the airwaves.* As one Soviet listener recently wrote to a Western broadcaster, "It might hurt one's ears and test one's patience. But one does find you."

Letters from Soviet listeners, in fact, filter through fairly often. Some write to complain about programs they consider unfair to the Soviet Union. But many more make it clear that the diversity of opinion expressed in foreign broadcasts provides the most credible source for news about their own country as well as the world. Regular listeners are kept informed about U.S. urban strife and protests against the war in Viet Nam, for example, and the BBC led off a roundup of editorial comment two weeks ago with the disarmingly frank observation that "most politicians must agree that we are in an unholy mess."