AJR  Drop Cap
From AJR,   December 1995

From Soviet Medals To a Dancing Garfield   

By Michele Kayal
Michele Kayal is a freelance writer formerly based in Prague.      


When readers in the Czech Republic look at Rudé Pravo, they no longer see red. The former Communist daily – its name means "red justice" – is one of the nation's leading sources of news.

In the Czech Republic's fierce 23-paper market, Rudé Pravo challenges the sensationalist tabloids and economic digests, selling 245,000 copies daily and 600,000 on weekends. It is the only major paper in the country operating without the aid of foreign capital, and many of the paper's former enemies now consider it required reading.

"If you want to know what's really going on, you have to include Rudé Pravo in what you're reading," says Ladislav Koppl, founder of the Prague-based media and market research firm Opinion Window.

Face-lifts and an enthusiastic leader have made all the difference for the Prague daily. Editor in Chief Zdenek Porybny, who has never formally renounced his party membership, has replaced the Soviet medals of the paper's banner with a dancing Garfield, and now employs several of the dissidents he once maligned as regular contributors. And he runs a biweekly column by the great American capitalist Bill Gates. Other additions include a Saturday magazine whose T.V.-star gossip and advice from herbal doctors capture a readership seduced by trashy sex-scandal tabloids such as the country's number one tabloid, Blesk, which sells a half-
million copies daily.

Recently, Rudé Pravo made another major change, dropping "Rudé" from its name to become just "Pravo" in time for the paper's 75th anniversary. Porybny says his decision to change the name followed his feeling that readers had come to accept the paper for its content and no longer needed to rely on the old name. "The basic reason is the fundamental problem with the word 'red,' " he says. "It has the connotation of revolution." He says that in spite of several subscription cancellations, reader reaction to the new name has been mostly positive.

Readers attribute Pravo's success to its no-nonsense formula. "They write honestly and independently, and they're not afraid of criticism," says Vladimir Parizek.

Other former regime papers around Central Europe attribute their survival to similar formulas, ones that many Western readers take for granted, such as objectivity and accuracy. Hungary's Nepszabadsag, for example, a year-and-a-half ago called itself "Socialist" on the banner, but its careful separation of news from opinion has won over its 325,000 readers, many more than any of the country's 11 other dailies. Under Hungary's relatively liberal Communist regime in the late 1980s, Nepszabadsag printed the most copies but was not actually read by as many people as other papers offering a less stringent party line.

"People have found that the most accurate and up-to-date information is in Nepszabadsag," says Petronella Gaal, senior archivist at the Prague-based Open Media Research Institute.

Rumpled copies of Poland's Rzeczpospolita, another former Communist paper struggling for credibility in the post-Communist world, litter the express train from Warsaw to Prague, a testament to the paper's number three readership spot among Poland's major dailies. The Polish government established the paper in 1981 as its martial law mouthpiece, though it is no longer government-controlled.

Though its headlines are not as catchy and its opinions not as juicy as those in the number one Gazeta Wyborcza, created by Solidarity in the 1980s, Rzeczpospolita sells roughly 247,000 copies daily by sticking to a neutral if dull presentation of the facts. Its comprehensive coverage of world markets and its sections on law, science, technology and world news have made it Poland's paper of record among several dozen competitors.

Nepszabadsag and Rzeczpospolita are of interest to those watching the development of post-Communist newspapers because of the ways that they have benefited from the political backlash that returned former Communists to power in both Hungary and Poland. Pravo, on the other hand, has had to overcome an environment in which a right-wing government functions unfettered by anything even resembling opposition.

Pravo manages to encompass the politics of all its readers, even those who don't share the views of the paper's editorial staff. In fact, the country's leading right-wing party took out several full page ads in the paper before last year's municipal elections.

Such advertising brings in enough revenue, says Porybny, to keep him independent. He has spurned the foreign partners taken on by all of his local publishing rivals, opting instead for loans when needed to finance capital investments. While rumors of Pravo suitors abound, Porybny has haughtily remained single. "I want to be free," he says. "I don't like domestic capital, I don't like foreign capital."

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