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.