In an era where digital screens often outshine printed pages, nations worldwide grapple with the challenge of fostering a love for reading among their youth. Russia, it appears, is no exception. A recent proposal in the State Duma aims to tackle this very issue, not with a gentle nudge, but with a rather robust, state-sponsored initiative: the `Dostoevsky Card`.
Introducing the `Dostoevsky Card`: A Literary Ledger
The concept is straightforward, perhaps even elegantly simple. For teenagers aged 14 to 18, an annual allowance of 10,000 rubles (approximately $100-$110 USD) would be loaded onto a personalized bank card. The sole purpose? To purchase books. This initiative, drawing parallels to the existing `Pushkin Card` for cultural events, is explicitly designed to “strengthen spiritual and moral values in the youth environment.” It’s a commendable goal, seeking to guide young minds towards edifying literary experiences.
On the surface, it seems a win-win. Publishers, naturally, are reportedly “very happy,” anticipating a significant boost in sales and readership, particularly in regional areas where access to diverse literature might be more limited. Екатерина Кожанова, Director for Strategic Communications at “Eksmo-AST” publishing group, expressed enthusiastic support, noting that the 14-18 age demographic is already actively engaged in reading and buying books, and this support could only amplify that interest.
The Fine Print: A Curator`s Conundrum
However, as with most grand designs, the devil, or in this case, Dostoevsky, is in the details. The `Dostoevsky Card` is not a carte blanche for literary exploration. The list of eligible books is to be “strictly limited,” adhering to specific, yet-to-be-approved criteria. Priority, as one might expect, would be given to domestic publishers and a carefully curated selection of works:
- School curriculum literature
- The “golden fund” of world literature (presumably classics)
- Scientific-popular and historical literature
- Books by contemporary Russian authors who have received “positive reviews from the expert community”
And here lies the heart of the debate, and perhaps a touch of irony. While the state provides the funds, it also reserves the right to dictate taste. The card`s funds, for instance, cannot be spent on “boulevard fiction,” nor on books exhibiting “signs of propaganda of non-traditional sexual relations, extremism, violence, [or] cruelty.”
One could argue that these restrictions are “logical,” given that the state is providing the financial backing. It`s a paternalistic approach: “We give you the money; we`ll also tell you what`s good for you.” Yet, this well-intentioned guidance immediately raises questions about efficacy and genuine engagement.
The Counter-Narrative: Forging Freedom or Fostering Frustration?
Critics suggest that such overt attempts to “install” culture might inadvertently do the opposite. Григорий Мастридер, a podcaster and author of the YouTube channel “Книжный чел” (Book Guy), voiced a common sentiment: “I think it`s a bad idea to divide books into worthy and unworthy, especially in the context of imposing certain books for teenagers to read. To say that this literature is worthy and that is unworthy – I would be very careful with this idea.”
He highlights a crucial psychological aspect: the natural rebellion of youth. “When some high-brow authorities impose literature on schoolchildren, on teenagers, one only wants to read that literature less; it always causes rejection. I remember myself as a teenager. Often, schoolchildren and young people come to reading through light literature, books that may not be examples of golden classics, but they nevertheless form a love for reading.” This perspective resonates with many who believe that organic curiosity, often sparked by less “academically approved” works, is the true pathway to lifelong reading habits.
Teenagers themselves offer a mixed, yet insightful, chorus. While some, like 17-year-old Petr Shumovsky, see it as an “excellent addition” to existing cultural initiatives and useful for “reference materials,” others express reservations. Gled Mikhailuk, 16, suggests lowering the age limit to 12 but crucially notes the importance of not “overdoing” the restrictions. He also laments the potential exclusion of foreign literature in its original language, calling it an “insertion of sticks into the wheels of education.” Stepan Kuts, 15, found the initiative appealing but was “more confused by the book restrictions.” He questions the narrow focus on Russian classics, fearing it might deter those who might otherwise find their entry point into reading through diverse genres.
“When some high-brow authorities impose literature on schoolchildren, on teenagers, one only wants to read that literature less; it always causes rejection.”
— Grigory Mastreader, podcaster
Beyond Borders: A Universal Dilemma
The `Dostoevsky Card` saga, while rooted in Russian cultural policy, echoes a universal dilemma faced by societies across the globe: how to guide cultural consumption without stifling individual taste or creative expression. Is it genuinely possible to “strengthen spiritual and moral values” by dictating reading lists, or does true cultural enrichment blossom from unrestricted exploration and the freedom to choose?
In the digital age, where content is boundless and algorithms often act as our de facto curators, the state`s attempt to step in with a physical card and a prescribed reading list is a fascinating, if anachronistic, proposition. While the intention to foster youth literary engagement is undoubtedly noble, the effectiveness of such a tightly controlled approach remains a subject of considerable debate. Will the `Dostoevsky Card` inspire a new generation of avid readers, or will it merely serve as a testament to the enduring paradox of trying to engineer passion?
