Time Bomb from the West: Video, the Advertising Industry, and Consumer Culture in Late-Socialist Czechoslovakia

Abstract

in a 1989 article for the Czechoslovak weekly Tvorba, the cameraman and teacher Otto Brabec likened video to “cassette television,” which in only a few years had individualized access to the consumption of audiovisual content—primarily feature movies—on the domestic market. He spoke of the individualization of consumption at a time when only 4 to 6 percent of households in late-socialist Czechoslovakia owned a video recorder,1 noticing that people had been rapidly purchasing this type of new equipment despite all the obstacles then present (few devices available on the legal market and high prevailing prices, even more so on the black market). In fact, on the black market, video recorders were becoming available more rapidly than new content, the high demand for which state socialism was unable to satisfy. Video recorders and cassettes were perceived as representative of the desired Western lifestyle and a source of visual inspiration transmitted by DIY techniques to late-socialist everyday life, as their virtual unavailability on the regular market created an overpressure of desire. According to Brabec, such overpressure in the face of actual official supply was a “time bomb,” a known threat that was spreading all the time, but for the removal of which no steps were taken (Brabec 3).The impression that the entry of video onto the Czechoslovak market disrupted the well-established system of production, distribution, and consumption of audiovisual content was shared by other commentators from at least the mid-1980s. Like Brabec, they believed the crux of the problem was not video itself, but rather the inactivity of the institutions responsible for developing this medium in Czechoslovakia. This passive approach, they thought, provided unnecessary support to the black market and amplified the discontent of the people. In this sense, the “time bomb” metaphor became a multilayered image for several “threats” perceived by various actors involved in the struggle over video that took place in Czechoslovakia in the 1980s. Not only did video threaten the film industry's monopoly on audiovisual content production; it also highlighted the differences between socialist and capitalist consumer culture and showed mainstream audiences what was not available domestically by individualizing consumption, differentiating demand, and most importantly, introducing audiences to Western lifestyle. It therefore posed a threat to the system of planned economy as such, exposing it as an unsustainable model of satisfying the consumer needs of the population. Within a few years, public administration authorities, equipment producers, institutions involved in the production and distribution of audiovisual content, and other institutions interested in the use of new media, as well as users (ordinary people), found themselves engaged in completely new relationships. While in 1981 the video recorder was still seen in Czechoslovakia chiefly as a foreign novelty, an item of interest to domestic state-owned enterprises and educational institutions, in the 1988 novel Vekslák (The Money Changer) by Pavel Frýbort, it was featured as a symbol of luxury and a key article in illegal domestic trade. This shift illustrates that users were clearly moving faster than their traditional suppliers of information and entertainment, who in turn dealt with the disproportionate situation in the old-fashioned way: by imposing old frameworks onto a new medium.What concerned the Central Committee of the Czechoslovak Communist Party, Československý film (Czechoslovak Film), and Československá televize (Czechoslovak Television), as the key institutions responsible for the production and distribution of audiovisual content in the centrally controlled economy, was the possibility of individualizing of consumption and differentiating of needs among audiences who had hitherto been provided audiovisual information and entertainment primarily through film and television. The black market for video recorders and videocassettes expanded spontaneously, exposing the rigidity of institutions that were unable to flexibly integrate video into their activities. Although these institutions began to release films on videocassettes, establish specific studios dedicated to video production, and take measures to ensure the availability of blank videocassettes, they could not satisfy the existing demand in terms of volume or content and were also hindering the spread of video culture with their pricing policy.2 The existence of a black market for video recorders and videocassettes was a public secret that regularly attracted comments from representatives of the relevant institutions. In official statements, they simply labeled bootlegging as distribution of pornography and violent action movies (“Fenomén zvaný video” 8–9), although the content disseminated on illegal videocassettes was not limited to these genres, and stressed the importance of “not competing” with the black market (“Je vinno jen video?” 23). In so doing, they demonstrated ignorance of the workings of the black market and its actual supply-side situation and reluctance to learn from the patterns exhibited by the market's participants and to accommodate the demand they generated.Importantly, this hesitation not only supported the development of the black market but also provided opportunities for other institutions outside the film and television industries, which quickly made video part of the public space of late socialism.3 This article aims to address how video transformed consumer culture and consumer behavior in late-socialist Czechoslovakia by helping to redefine public space as a space of consumption and by requiring a differentiated approach for entities to reach different consumer groups—namely, youth audiences. As the new situation forced a number of institutions to reexamine the role they had played so far, some of them reacted faster than others, with the differences creating a disproportion that significantly affected further development. As I will show in more detail, the first adopters of video were universities, research institutes, and the advertising industry. The advertising industry—specifically, the advertising company Merkur in its collaboration with the Prior department store chain—established video as part of everyday socialist life and consumer culture and thus stimulated individual demand for the private use of video. Using video as a marketing tool to encourage the sale of goods and services, the advertising industry sought to modernize the public space as a space of consumption designed especially for young audiences.According to Jindřiška Bláhová, “[h]ome video initiated a seismic change in the Czechoslovak distribution sector insomuch as for the first time since World War II the State did not fully control a film delivery channel” (68). Bláhová also points out that the state saw the black market as a competitor that functioned in defiance of the state (68). Undoubtedly, home video brought about a significant change in Czechoslovak distribution and consumption of audiovisual content. This change, however, was preceded by a number of relatively important events, indicating that it was not as sudden and abrupt as it might have appeared at first glance. A distribution sector independent of the monopoly distributors of audiovisual content had been developing in Czechoslovakia since at least the 1960s with small-gauge film technologies, and video now enabled those distributors to bring these practices into homes on a mass scale. The dichotomy of state versus black market or other competitive practices also was not quite clear-cut, as state institutions outside the audiovisual sector initiated a number of new video practices that disrupted established routines. In fact, the advent of video meant, above all, a substantial rearrangement of relationships between the existing dominant suppliers and distributors of audiovisual content and the ancillary areas, which especially included science and education, the music and advertising industries, and video professionals and amateurs as well as viewers/consumers. The erosion of the monopoly of production and distribution allowed sectors outside the audiovisual industry to develop a range of completely new informal practices and to unearth distinctions between professionals and amateurs in audiovisual production.The first fields in Czechoslovakia to work with video technology on a larger scale were higher education and research and development. As early as the early 1980s, audiovisual centers were established, in particular by universities, mainly to produce educational video programs.4 Universities and research institutes were able to start working with video relatively quickly for several reasons: they had sufficient financial backing for the purchase of basic equipment, and they had long struggled with self-sufficiency when shooting their own audiovisual content within the monopolized system. Compared to film, video was much more flexible as a technology and allowed scientists to record physical or other experiments and medical procedures and then present such recordings at conferences or edit them into instructional videos. It is this limited use—for scientific and educational purposes—that allowed universities to partially circumvent the rules imposed by the monopoly on the production of audiovisual content. As amateur or semi-amateur workplaces whose works did not enter official distribution but were rather disseminated through alternative, essentially closed distribution circuits unavailable to the public, they were not dependent on cooperation with Československý film or Československá televize, and thus they enjoyed some autonomy in their planning, production, and other work with audiovisual content. This gave them the opportunity, unusual in socialist culture, to avoid lengthy approval processes at the writer level (original story and screenplay) and, in general, negotiations under what was known as commissioned service.The commission model was one of the standard methods of producing educational and instructional films in Czechoslovakia from the nationalization of the film industry in 1945 onward. The institution with a monopoly on this type of filmmaking in the centralized economy was Krátký film. However, it took only a couple of years for Krátký film to discover that it did not have the capacity to meet the requirements of all the institutions turning to it with their commissions. Decentralized production models for these types of films thus began to emerge in the 1950s. This type of production was approached as amateur or semi-amateur filmmaking and was therefore also conducted within the structure of amateur film clubs. Such clubs began to be established, most often adjacent to industrial plants, in the 1960s and usually produced instructional, educational, or informational films serving their respective plants (Jančová 45–60). The possibility of producing a film outside the traditional model of commissions corresponding to a monopoly system was the first step toward democratizing production. Companies producing in-house thus avoided negotiations with Československý film or Československá televize, and the production of their films was not subject to official approval procedures. These films did not enter nationwide distribution and were shown as needed by the companies, occasionally and in closed screenings. Exceptions of this type gradually became more frequent and spread from heavy industry to other sectors, including research and development. The filmmaking activity of scientists and academics also was classified as amateur unless their works were taken over by official distribution. Audiovisual centers at universities and research institutes took advantage of the independent framework established earlier and gradually integrated new technologies—television and, in the early 1980s, video—into their practices. In the early era before video was in any way regulated by legislation, these institutions worked within an essentially unlimited field. To some extent, they used the uncertainties to their advantage: for their own development, mutual cooperation, and the sharing of experience (Kučerová 250).In some cases, industrial plants and scientific research centers became an important technological and material base for video art. Many filmmakers who later experimented with the possibilities offered by video—and who are considered pioneers of Czechoslovak video art—first became acquainted with this technology as part of their regular employment outside the sphere of art, using the resources accessible there to create their private art (Blažíček and Poláková 86; Smolyak 21–57). In this respect, interest in video stimulated a specific type of parasitic dependence between individuals and institutions and contributed to the emergence of various types of mutual relationships and exchanges between “official” and “unofficial” culture. The degree of mutual permeability between these spheres of individuals and institutions, between the “official” and “unofficial” cultures and the formal and informal economies, confirms that thinking in binary oppositions is not a useful methodological framework for understanding state socialism, as it fails to capture the quotidian spontaneity of practices oscillating between these traditional categories. Katherine Verdery has shown that this type of relationship, usually referred to as the second or informal economy, was a reaction to the fact that the state socialist economy “tended to sacrifice consumption, in favor of production and controlling the products” (27). People then sought to fulfill their consumer needs by various means and developed borderline-illegal tactics, including but not limited to moonlighting, bartering, and the exchange of favors, as well as stealing and the utilization of enterprise resources by employees (Morris and Polese, “Informality” 4). Informal practices especially flourish in what could be called intermediate-stage situations, when a society realizes that it has certain needs but before the rules for fulfilling such needs are formalized. The advent of video in Czechoslovakia had indeed created such a situation, changing the fundamentals of commissioned production and bringing about the decentralization, differentiation, and autonomy of some film and television formats. Informal practice made quicker reactions possible and, in some cases, spread into acknowledged cooperation with state institutions, which sometimes even became the initiators of such cooperation. It would therefore be a stretch to interpret this whole set of practices as actions carried out in opposition to the state in the traditional sense. Some informal practices, such as the black market for video recorders and videocassettes, certainly developed “in spite of” or “beyond” the state, or behind its back (Morris and Polese, “My Name Is Legion” 4–5); many others, however, did not.If we follow the informal practices related to video taking place in Czechoslovakia in the early 1980s, it is difficult to separate individuals from the institutions where they worked or were able to pursue their interests—and therefore from the state. The fact that people used institutions to meet their individual needs does not mean that they would necessarily come into conflict with these institutions. Alexei Yurchak describes this situation, typical of many Soviet youth clubs and groups, as a position vnye (outside) (Yurchak 131–33). What he means by this is, for example, the attitude when individuals organize themselves in an official group, but without attaching any importance to the official nature of the group. Instead, they perceive themselves as separate and independent. The fragility of the “inside” and “outside” positions and the deeper aspects of their mutual permeability are well illustrated by the debate over the de-professionalization of audiovisual production, which developed with the advent of video. The activities of those workplaces outside of the film and television industry created a demand for people capable of making (i.e., shooting or editing) video programs. Although employees in the film and television industry had the most experience with this type of work, it was impossible to engage them externally, as film and television institutions would perceive such practices as a clear circumvention of the established model of commissioned production. The first video creators were therefore most often amateurs and lay enthusiasts, who either worked for the institutions in question or were hired externally, often on recommendations from acquaintances. In this new set of circumstances, the status of an amateur also changed significantly.Even though state socialism created a highly formalized cultural and social system, in which even amateur production was de facto institutionalized and organized in registered amateur clubs (Jančová; Vinogradova), amateur filmmakers worked primarily for their own or their communities’ pleasure. Hobby activities took place under the auspices of official—most often youth—organizations (such as the Czechoslovak Youth Union and the Union for Cooperation with the Army). Inside such organizations, it was possible for new computer practices (Švelch) to develop alongside amateur radio and amateur film practices and for all these practices to be pursued in accordance with the priorities of the scientific-technological revolution. Specific communities emerged from this environment in the 1980s and continued to develop their practices and processes in the 1990s private sphere, when they were also able to monetize their work. As mentioned earlier, the demand for industrial films in the 1960s supported the emergence of amateur clubs at industrial plants, which were the first to blend the initial amateur enthusiasm for filming with commissioned salaried work. The advent of video generated an intensified interest in amateur creators, bringing new dynamics to a field that had already been shaken up previously (Kučerová 250). The fact that amateurs had gradually “professionalized” in specialized work with video was criticized by film and television “professionals.” They considered amateur work to be of “poor quality” and “non-professional,”5 even though the so-called amateurs received awards in the field of educational and advertising video programs.6 The professionals felt threatened by the amateurs and called for regulation (Cvejn 235–41). This criticism toward amateurs confirmed that an established practice had been disrupted and was a characteristic defense of the status of professionals within socialist audiovisual production. The fear of de-professionalization and the blurring of the lines between professional and amateur work was to a large extent a symptom of a more general clash, made apparent by the advent of video, between the strengthening of commercial practices on the one hand and the lack of sociocultural preparedness for a competitive environment on the other.This competitive environment arose as a result of the state institutions’ efforts to diversify their communication strategies in response to the advent of video. Based on previous experience, state institutions outside of the film industry saw the commission-based system of cooperation with the film industry as an obstacle to the quick adoption of new technologies. Institutions outside the film industry sought self-sufficiency and were thus interested in working with amateurs, while the film industry defined itself in opposition to them. Amateurs thus found themselves in an in-between position vis-à-vis state institutions (neither outside nor in conflict with them), as they were simultaneously in demand and criticized. At the same time, their main motivation was to do what they considered to be their hobby. They saw their relationship with the institutions simply as an opportunity to gain better access to equipment and technology under the prevailing set of circumstances. Consequently, they participated in a system of mutual benefits, favors, and commitments, which I refer to in this study as the culture of small synergies. I will draw on the example of the advertising industry's use of video to illustrate this phenomenon in more detail. Within these relationships, state institutions partnered with each other and harnessed the creative potential of individuals, who often benefited from skills acquired in the amateur sphere in these collaborations. In the context of state socialism, this sort of synergy gave the more progressive state institutions a high degree of flexibility in implementing new trends and ideas, notably new media. Specifically, the advertising industry and the internal trade sector finally began to once again respond to consumer behavior surveys in the early 1980s, integrating Western inspiration into Czechoslovak practices in order to turn a public space into a space of consumption and diversify their approaches to various customer groups.Video was attractive for the advertising and music industries as well as for universities because it offered independence from commission-based cooperation with Československý film and Československá televize, as well as the freedom and flexibility of in-house production. The advertising company Merkur already had some experience in this regard: by 1975, Merkur had already come to dominate advertisement exhibitions as the most active producer of commercials in the 16mm film format (Häckl, “Tradice” 2–4; Häckl, “Bilance” 2–3). In this respect, video was a step even further, as it would enable Merkur not only to independently produce commercials but also to distribute them. The advertising industry, represented primarily by Merkur, therefore welcomed video in the early 1980s as an opportunity to develop entirely new distribution windows outside of cinema and television distribution and to modernize the forms of audiovisual promotion in general.In response to consumer behavior research (Bárta and Janáček), Merkur sought to offer a more differentiated approach to the consumer and to technologically revitalize the sales environment through video. It used three key tools—video walls, screens in stores, and programmed sales events with video discos—to gradually develop the potential of video from the first emancipation phase toward more sophisticated cooperation models involving different segments of the economy, which again I refer to as the culture of small synergies. In 1982, Merkur created its own video studio, and in the very same year, the director of the studio, Karel Hes, introduced his concept of reinvigorating the retail environment by introducing television screens into it. Hes acknowledged that his inspiration came from Denmark—where, he claimed, the use of video directly in stores significantly increased business turnover—and he was also very enthusiastic about a number of its economic and operational advantages. Video allowed Hes and his colleagues in Merkur to implement new ideas much faster, as it freed them from dependence on other institutions in the production phase of the programs (Hes 2–6). Unlike films, videos did not need to be developed in state film laboratories. They also lent themselves to easier postproduction, from editing to other effects (Mikeš 9). Both key Merkur representatives of the 1980s, Hes and Jiří Mikeš, primarily connected video with emancipation, initially from dependence on state film production and laboratories and then from television distribution. Hes considered stores and, above all, shop windows that were open to public spaces (and, by extension, public spaces as such) to be ideal places for video-based promotion. In his first article on the subject, he was already speaking of a “chain of connected monitors” used to run video programs in such places (Hes 5). His vision materialized in Merkur's first video project, which consisted of installing these “chains of screens,” now called “video walls,” in public spaces. Merkur chose to place the first series of video walls in busy public spaces in Prague and other Czechoslovak cities: the first four video walls were installed at Prague Airport, the metro underpass at Wenceslas Square in Prague, the colonnade in the spa town of Karlovy Vary, and the Prior department store in Hradec Králové, then one of the newest and largest department stores in Czechoslovakia.7 The overall concept of video walls, however, generally foresaw their placement at exhibitions and fairs, in public spaces, in shop windows, and in the interiors of shops and hotels.These initial emancipatory ambitions lost momentum relatively quickly, however, and Merkur began to consider new collaborative strategies for video wall programming because its limited production capacity did not make it possible to ensure sufficient up-to-date content. The primary use for video walls—broadcasting video programs via closed television circuits—was to present new commercials produced by Merkur, but airtime was also reserved for other content. Publicity was to be combined with “works of entertaining and dramatic nature” (Hyršl), informative and instructional videos, and similar programming. Merkur also saw great potential in video clips (Hyršl). It soon became apparent that the programs intended for public spaces required more frequent changes than expected to maintain their attractiveness, and Merkur was unable to produce such diverse content on its own. To avoid losing the ability to coordinate its own distribution in public spaces and thereby modernize existing forms of promotion and sale, Merkur began to form a number of small strategic alliances. In a way, it was returning from emancipation to the original institutional interdependence, but now from the position of a distributor offering new distribution windows for film and television content. Thus, the video walls featured content by Československá televize in addition to commercials, such as DIY shows and other programs with instructional elements. Merkur also worked with state-owned enterprises to prepare programs that were both promotional and educational (such as programs about skin care in collaboration with cosmetics manufacturers) as well as to better promote itself (Hyršl). Creating a network of collaborating institutions enabled Merkur, on the one hand, to reuse original film and television content, and on the other hand, it achieved diversification of its video wall offer. Merkur further emphasized a similar strategy of repurposing both old and new content in other projects that used video in advertising and trade.Since 1984, Merkur had been trying, in cooperation with department stores, to use single screens in individual stores. Within Merkur, this type of promotion was the responsibility of the “comprehensive rationalization brigade,” a group of employees involved in the introduction of new measures aimed at increasing the efficiency and quality of production.8 Merkur viewed new possibilities for using video in distribution through the lens of “rationalization and efficiency” (“Koncepce využití videotechniky” [“The concept of using video technology”]). As mentioned earlier, it saw video as a way to make advertising production cheaper, faster, and easier while maintaining full control of distribution and targeting specific audiovisual content to specific customer groups and the like (Hynek 30–31).9 Like Merkur, the Prior department store chain also founded “comprehensive rationalization brigades” to introduce video to stores, heavily inspired by Western models. The chain also saw video as an opportunity to create a “sales and information system of a new, modern and technically progressive type” (“Koncepce využití videotechniky” 2). Equally important, however, was the fact that video promised to make the shopping environment more attractive.Department stores used a combination of different strategies to deliver content to their screens. They collaborated with various intermediaries to produce new programs (Krátký film, Merkur, and Mon Videopress), attempted to borrow existing films from Ústřední půjčovna filmů (Central Film Rental) or from the producers themselves, and at the same time sought to get their own production up and running. Their own production hinged on the enthusiasm of amateurs from among their own employees, who often worked on the company's films equipped with their own cameras. The evaluation of the concept for the further development of video in Prior department stores stated: “To date, only the employees of the department store Kotva have had a more in-depth work experience with video technology, fostered by their own enthusiasm rather than by a precisely specified job description” (“Koncepce využití videotechniky” 9). This is evidenced, among other things, by the use of various pieces of privately owned video technology. A similar approach was taken by the publicity workers involved in the preparation of the program and the screening of videos during the pre–Christmas market period in 1986, for whom this task was beyond the scope of their regular responsibilities (“Koncepce využití videotechniky” 9). The work with video in stores was thus dependent on the cooperation of a number of different actors, with amateurs often providing the necessary technical equipment, which even could have come from the black market.The Prior chain's management was aware that the network of contacts and partnerships that had been built through this culture of small synergies also entailed certain ideological risks. In this sense, Prior's comprehensive rationalization brigade confirmed that “video involves a significant decentralization of the processing and dissemination of information and propaganda messages in general. Therefore, it is a politically important activity that requires great respon