Historical Background

The turn of the 1980s and 1990s was marked by largely unexpected and interconnected processes: mass Aliyah to Israel, Jewish emigration to Western countries, and the revival of organized Jewish life in the USSR. It would not be an exaggeration to state that the phenomenon, somewhat grandiosely termed the "Jewish Renaissance," began with the Jewish press. There is nothing paradoxical about this—for generations of Soviet citizens raised under strict censorship, the printed word became the primary marker of Perestroika and Glasnost. One need only recall the immense popularity of "Ogonyok," "Komsomolskaya Pravda," and, in particular, "Argumenty i Fakty," which in 1990 entered the Guinness Book of World Records as the newspaper with the highest circulation in human history (33,441,100 copies, with a readership exceeding 100 million)[1].

The entire country lived from issue to issue of these and other publications, as if compensating for decades of informational and intellectual deprivation. It is not surprising that Soviet Jews, with their high proportion of non-conformist intelligentsia, were at the forefront of both writing and reading. The rise of national consciousness became a trend for all ethnic groups in the USSR, which only yesterday had formed the mosaic of the "new historical community"—the Soviet people. This process also affected assimilated Jewry, and the general trend in this case was amplified many times over by decades of prohibition of any form of institutionalized Jewish life. Even against the backdrop of pervasive censorship, the Jewish theme in all its manifestations was one of the most tabooed subjects in the USSR, which stimulated interest in any information not originating from party propagandists. All of this drove the emergence of the Jewish (as well as other "ethnic") press during the decline of the Soviet Union, especially since, despite the diversity of the all-Union media, they could not cover a range of specific topics.  

There was another factor that turned the Jewish press into a cornerstone of community building. In the late 1980s, not every Jew, even one who did not hide their origin, was ready to attend a synagogue or a Jewish concert—public expression of national identity was already permitted but had not yet become routine. Moreover, the confidence in the irreversibility of these changes was far from universal. A newspaper or magazine, which could be read at home without attracting unwanted (and not always friendly) attention, was a different matter entirely. 

It is also natural that the first independent Jewish periodicals appeared in the Baltic republics, where the political atmosphere and a less profound generational divide favored it—the Soviet ideological steamroller had ironed these territories for "only" 50 years rather than 70. Local party authorities took a neutral stance, and when activists of the Jewish Cultural Society (JCS) established in Estonia applied to the censorship department for permission to publish a newspaper in late 1988, they received neither a "yes" nor a "no." The situation of those days can be described by the phrase "what is not forbidden is permitted," so on December 22, 1988, the first official Jewish periodical in the USSR—the information bulletin "Hashahar" ("Dawn")—was published in the Estonian capital. As recalled by its first editor, Gidon Paenson[2], the print run of the bulletin was 2,000 copies, of which 300—printed in Estonian—were quickly sold out at a kiosk in Tallinn's Town Hall Square. The popularity of the newspaper can only be appreciated when considering that there were just over 4,500 Jews in the entire republic at the time. Characteristically, the first issue of "Hashahar" opened with a series of articles on the Jewish cultural autonomy that existed in Estonia in 1926–1940, a history of which most readers were completely unaware.

Just two months later, the "Vestnik Evreyskoy Kultury" ("VEK" / "Herald of Jewish Culture") was published in Riga. This was a publication of a different scale—a proper 52-page magazine with an announced circulation of 30,000 copies, although the actual print run, according to Zionist movement activist Shmuel Zilberg, was twice as large.[3] The most dramatic period for "VEK" occurred in October 1990, when internal troops occupied the Riga Press House, thereby suspending the publication of semi-legal media—the Popular Front newspaper and the Jewish magazine. "It was at that moment that the plates of 'VEK' were carried out of the Press House. They were handed over to the underground printing house of the Popular Front, where our magazine was printed. This was done by Latvians," Shmuel Zilberg recalled. 

From April 1989, the "Vestnik Evreyskoy Sovetskoy Kultury" ("Herald of Soviet Jewish Culture") was published in Moscow, which would soon be reorganized into "Evreyskaya Gazeta" ("Jewish Newspaper") and later into "Mezhdunarodnaya Evreyskaya Gazeta" ("International Jewish Newspaper").  In the autumn of the same year, the first issue of "Lithuanian Jerusalem" was published in Vilnius—perhaps the only multilingual Jewish newspaper in the post-Soviet space, with materials published in Yiddish, as well as Russian, Lithuanian, and English.  March 1990 was marked by the appearance of the first official Jewish media outlet in Ukraine—the Lviv-based newspaper "Shofar" (although an Information Bulletin of the city Jewish Social and Cultural Foundation had been published in Chernivtsi since 1988).  In that same March of 1990, the newspaper of the Association of Jewish Organizations and Communities, "Nash Golos" ("Our Voice"), began publication in Moldova. 

In 1990, the newspaper of the Kiev City Society of Jewish Culture, "Vozrozhdenie" ("Revival"), was registered in Kyiv, which after the declaration of Ukraine's independence received the symbolic name "Vozrozhdenie-91." At the same time, the first full issue of the newspaper "Hadashot" ("News")—which had been published since autumn 1989 as an information bulletin—was released, and a year later, "Evreyskie Vesti" ("Jewish News") appeared under the Society of Jewish Culture of Ukraine. In Leningrad, which had not yet become St. Petersburg, on July 6, 1990, with the assistance of Anatoly Sobchak (paper was impossible to find at the time), the first issue of the newspaper "Ami" ("My People") was published[4]. Interestingly, the entire print run was sold out in one day at 50 kopecks per copy. It is worth noting that the country, then in a state of semi-collapse, was experiencing a severe socio-economic crisis, yet the idea that one had to pay for a Jewish newspaper was perceived by the target audience as completely natural. Publishers of most contemporary Jewish media in the post-Soviet space can only dream of this today—a phenomenon we will examine further below.   

The year 1991 became the starting point for many metropolitan and regional publications—from the Dagestani "Vatan" ("Motherland") to the Ukrainian "Shabbat Shalom" (Dnepropetrovsk), "Shabbat" (Bershad), and the Chisinau-based newspaper "Istoki" ("Sources").

By the mid-1990s, many Jewish organizations of various scales across the former USSR began to establish their own—even if small—printed organs. In part, this was an echo of the almost mystical trust that citizens placed in the printed word. Today, a reference to a newspaper publication as a decisive argument in a dispute is perceived as a relic of the Soviet era, but a quarter of a century ago, such an argument sounded entirely convincing. However, another factor played a far more significant role—often, a newspaper or magazine became nearly the sole evidence of the activity of a particular Jewish association. The objectives of such publications were far removed from media-related goals, which the first generation of Jewish media, incidentally, had successfully managed—certain issues of the Riga-based "VEK" still leave professionals with a highly positive impression today.

Functional Transformation of Post-Soviet Jewish Media

Throughout the 1990s, the flow of information continued to grow, its sources diversified, and Jewish organizations multiplied. Under these conditions, many of them decided that the main purpose of a publication was to reflect the position of the founder and cover their (the founder's) declarative or actual activities. A traditional set of topics was used as a framework—antisemitism, the Holocaust, excursions into the patriarchal past, essays on prominent Jews detailing their contributions to humanity, religious tradition strictly in line with the founder's views, and Israel and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, covered from right-wing, explicitly pro-Israel positions. All of this was, of course, generously seasoned with enthusiasm about how "wonderful it is that we are all gathered here (at the synagogue, Hesed, community center, etc.) today."

I have previously written that the level of "specialization" of the Jewish press is approaching that of the magazine "Sheep Breeding"[5], from which the reader is unlikely to learn anything beyond the subject indicated in the title. Unfortunately, over the past decades, the situation has not changed significantly. The Jewish press, perhaps more than any other sphere of community activism, has been corrupted by its departmental nature. Founders and sponsors, for the most part, are not interested in the quality of the publication, which acts merely as a collective organizer and propagandist and serves as a platform to report on work done. The "end consumer" in this area decides nothing at all, and having been directly involved in the discussed topic for nearly 30 years, the author has repeatedly encountered confirmation of this thesis from a wide variety of publishers. By investing in a project, they wanted a "correct" publication, rather than one demanded by the reader.

Despite all this, in our view, the Jewish press adequately reflects the state of the post-Soviet Jewish community,[6] which, if one thinks about it, does not exist in its classical sense.

Prof. Ze'ev Khanin, discussing models of Jewish community building in post-Soviet countries, notes that they generally boil down to three main approaches. According to the first, a community should be understood as groups built on the principles of personal membership and regular joint activities for a collective goal. Supporters of the second approach consider the entire Jewish population of a given city or region to be the "Jewish community." (This understanding is most often followed by the leaders of Jewish "umbrella" organizations, who typically claim to represent the interests of the Jewish population of their respective countries).

The third approach remains the most popular, understanding the Jewish community as a collection of "service" institutions that provide specific (social, educational, religious, legal, etc.) services to the Jewish population, and a system of vertical and horizontal connections arising from such interaction.[7] It is in this capacity that many today perceive hundreds of organizations, community centers, synagogues, Heseds, dance and vocal ensembles, as well as hobby groups—ranging from "reyzele" to the "Torah lovers club." However, it is hardly possible to speak of the independence and self-sufficiency of such a community infrastructure. 

By comparison, in Ukraine in the 1930s, there was an extensive "communal" infrastructure, which included nearly 800 Jewish schools, about 30 technical colleges with instruction in Yiddish, 24 Jewish newspapers, 9 permanent theaters, etc. All of this was liquidated by a decision from "above" in just a couple of years, and none of the members of the "community" could prevent it, which calls into question the existence of the "community" itself. Today, the agenda of community institutions similar in model and type is determined, of course, not by the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Ukraine, but by foreign and domestic sponsors and philanthropists whose interests lie in the sphere of Jewish charity. Thus, the vast majority of such structures will exist only as long as the sponsors maintain that interest. And this holds true for the entire post-Soviet space.

Despite the speculative nature of this comparison, one must admit that the specifics of community life in the countries of the former USSR largely explain the development trends of the Jewish media. Characteristically, in the 1990s, most Jewish newspapers became free of charge, which further emphasized their biased (and partly promotional) status. This completely destroyed the competition that was so necessary in any field before it even had a chance to emerge. It also indirectly influenced the readers' perception of Jewish media—the stereotype that "free means low-quality" became firmly established among young, self-sufficient Jews, whom the community so desperately needed. In parentheses, let us note that the above does not apply to "thick" artistic-publicistic and literary almanacs (such as the Kyiv-based "Yehupets" or the Vitebsk magazine "Mishpoha"), as well as specialized publications (such as the St. Petersburg-based book review "People of the Book in the World of Books")—they have managed to maintain a high standard and a decent reputation.   

At the same time, the media proved to be the least reformed area of Jewish communal life, although it was precisely the emergence of the national press at the turn of the 1980s and 1990s that gave a powerful impetus to community building. Jewish summer camps and schools, for instance, have long been competing for their "audience"—parents will not send their children just anywhere. The Jewish Agency "Sochnut" and the "Nativ" Liaison Bureau prove the advantages of their Hebrew-learning ulpans. Jewish youth clubs, educational projects, and synagogues—all of them make efforts to attract "clients" and (even if by necessity) raise standards. But the founders of Jewish media see no such need.

This does not mean that the emergence of a high-quality Jewish publication is impossible in the current situation. It is entirely feasible and is driven by a combination of three factors. First and foremost, the editor's drive to produce a quality product, even if the publisher does not demand it, assigning the editorial board the traditional role of "support staff." Crucially important is also the founder's consent to minimally interfere in editorial policy while adequately funding the newspaper or magazine. Practice shows that, given the vertical structure of the community, very few Jewish leaders and philanthropists are ready for such a development. 

Naturally, there are exceptions, the most prominent of which is the magazine "L'Chaim," published by the Federation of Jewish Communities of Russia (FJCR). As its editor Boruch Gorin admits, the first issue, published in 1992, resembled a "student newsletter," and the magazine itself served as a "propaganda leaflet."[8]  Over time, the editorial team managed to attract a number of first-class authors, reprints practically disappeared from the magazine, and a highly open and broad view of Jewish issues attracted new readers who had never previously crossed the threshold of the community. The magazine "5780" is highly interesting, largely inheriting the traditions of the "Moscow – Jerusalem" project, which closed last year. Particular attention should be paid to its stylish website, possibly the best among Jewish media that have both print and online versions.  

It should be noted that both "L'Chaim" and "5780" are published with excellent printing quality, although, as experience shows, expensive, multi-page "Jewish glossy" magazines do not survive in their pure form in the post-Soviet space. Two such attempts—the magazine "Moscow – Tel Aviv" (Moscow) and "Nashi Lyudi" ("Our People," Dnipro)—ended in failure. Publishers could hardly have expected to cover costs through sales, and the Jewish advertising market is too narrow to achieve profitability for such costly projects. In any case, the absolute majority of Jewish media in the countries of the former USSR consist of newspapers, which typically appear with a magazine-like frequency—once a month.

As the editor of one of these media outlets (the Kyiv-based newspaper "Hadashot" [News]), the author does not deem it appropriate to dwell on the editorial achievements. Regarding content, its quality is evidenced by the impressive number (around 500-600 per year) of re-publications of "Hadashot" materials by other publications (including more than 50 print and electronic media outlets from Ukraine, Israel, Russia, Kazakhstan, Moldova, Germany, the USA, and even China). In our view, this is one of the markers of the newspaper's demand among a wide audience and an indicator of the originality of its content. In this case, the position of the founder—the Vaad of Ukraine—also played a role, as it did not turn the newspaper into a mouthpiece for exclusively "party" views and has kept its influence on editorial policy to a minimum. 

In one way or another, it is newspapers that are perceived today by the majority of post-Soviet Jews as traditional (in every sense of the word) media. Dozens of Jewish newspapers are published in Russia today; in Ukraine, "Evreyskiy Obozrevatel" ("Jewish Observer"), "Shabbat Shalom," "Shofar," "Dobroe Delo" ("Good Deed"), "Digest E" continue to be released; in Moldova, "Nash Golos" ("Our Voice") and "Istoki Zhizni" ("Sources of Life"); in Kazakhstan, "Davar"; in Georgia, "Menorah," and so on.

A common talking point in any discussion about Jewish media is the claim that their main audience consists of retirees. Indeed, according to research by Ze'ev Khanin, the older generation reads Jewish periodicals twice as actively as young people and those of early middle age under 40, and one and a half times as actively as those aged 41–60. This is partly explained by the fact that elderly people are more active consumers of community services. Overall, as surveys show, the Jewish press is read constantly by only a fifth of respondents, while another third turns to it "from time to time."[9]

It is incorrect, however, to link this obvious fact to the "death" of print media, which many researchers emphasize. This "death" is nothing more than a persistent myth based on the declining circulations of printed publications. This decline, however, is not as dramatic as it seems at first glance. Despite the fact that leading global media outlets established websites back in the 1990s, they (with volumes of dozens of pages) continue to be published in print as well. This applies to Suddeutsche Zeitung, Le Figaro, and La Repubblica, whose daily circulations (around 300,000 copies) far exceed the number of subscribers to the electronic versions of these publications. Of course, the status factor, which still distinguishes print media from its online counterparts, cannot be dismissed.

Exactly the same trends are characteristic of the Jewish media in the US and Western Europe. In North America, even local municipal publications boast respectable circulations:      Chicago Jewish Star (17,500 copies), The Detroit Jewish News (17,000 copies), The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles (50,000 copies), etc. Only recently, due to the COVID-19 epidemic, was the New York-based The Jewish Week, which had a circulation of 155,000 copies, forced to move entirely online.[10] Yet, for example, 158,000 copies of the Florida Jewish Journal continue to reach subscribers.

A sharp drop in demand for Jewish periodicals, Khanin believes, is not expected in the near (and likely even medium-term) perspective in the post-Soviet space either.  In other words, the Jewish print press in the CIS countries is losing ground not because of its printed format, but due to uninteresting content. At the dawn of the digital era, post-Soviet Jewish media consisted of 80% reprints, and readers, lacking access to the original sources, accepted this as normal. A significant portion of publications not only did not abandon this practice but elevated it to an absolute rule. However, with the spread of general internet literacy, print media that broadcast repeatedly reproduced third-party materials can only interest readers of the oldest age categories. In the eyes of a younger audience, the derivative nature of the content deprives the newspaper of any value.

Jewish Media and "New Media"

Clearly, young Jews, like their non-Jewish peers, are moving to social media and networks. It would seem that electronic resources, free of the drawbacks noted in print media, should enjoy deserved popularity. However, this is not always the case, as the content issue is no less acute for online media. Even large Jewish portals lack their own news services, so the same news stories migrate from one site to another. "The same" is not a figure of speech here; as a rule, the reader is dealing not even with a compilation, but with a basic reprint. Yet even in this form, web resources perform their informational function much better than traditional print media. At the same time, only a minority of journalists and editors perceive a current news event as an opportunity to talk about something broader.

Allow me to offer just one example to illustrate this. In the spring of this year, practically all Russian-language Jewish websites reproduced a note about the "outrage of the Argentine Jewish community"[11] regarding the placement of a portrait of "Dr. Ramón Carrillo, who is known to have sympathized with Nazi ideology and supported the infamous Dr. Josef Mengele," on a new banknote. First, this is factually incorrect. The scandal did not unite the Jewish community; rather, it split it—for instance, the major umbrella structure Llamamiento Argentino Judío explicitly came out in defense of Dr. Carrillo's memory.[12] Second, no one in the Jewish media mentioned that Carrillo was the architect of Argentina's modern healthcare system, who eliminated malaria, typhus, and syphilis, reduced tuberculosis mortality by nearly four times, and halved infant mortality. His best friend and closest associate for many years was Solomon Chichilnisky, a Jew from Odesa. Certainly, Carrillo deserves criticism—as minister, he facilitated the entry into Argentina of a Danish-born SS officer, Carl Peter Værnet (dubbed the Danish Mengele, hence the confusion!), who experimented on prisoners with hormones in Buchenwald in an attempt to "cure" patients of homosexuality.

At the same time, dozens of hospitals and medical institutions are named after Carrillo in Argentina, and this had never bothered anyone before, including the Jewish community, a fact which also went unreported. To uncover these details, which completely alter the context, one does not need a correspondent in Buenos Aires; basic curiosity and a few hours spent online would suffice, but why bother? Jewish media have no incentive for "normalization," except for the individual desire of certain editors to produce a quality publication.

As in the print media segment, the "Jewish" web has its leaders, such as the Russian global Jewish online center Jewish.ru, which enjoys good traffic (for a niche resource). This is largely explained by the originality of its content—the site specializes in extensive, original feature articles. We should also mention the STMEGI portal, backed by the charitable foundation of the same name established by Mountain Jews. There are few original texts here, but the frequency of updates and a highly vibrant design maintain reader interest (though the choice of sources sometimes raises questions). Of course, a significant role in the success of these resources is played by generous funding and a departure from a purely "departmental" approach to publishing. Unfortunately, many Jewish electronic media outlets, both in Russia and in other countries of the former USSR, cannot boast such a combination of factors.

Some compensate for this with a more meticulous approach to content, while others, in an attempt to attract maximum attention to their resource, use headlines that are not merely clickbait but fundamentally misleading, such as: "Jewish Congresswoman Mocks US Selective Service" or "Jewish Congresswoman: Climate is a Foreign Policy Issue." The authors were referring to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who was born into a Puerto Rican family and is practicing Roman Catholic. Only once, while lighting Hanukkah candles at a synagogue in Queens, did the politician state (without questioning her identity and faith) that she had Sephardic Jewish ancestors.[13] There is also an opposite example based on the same games with identity. An article titled "Ukrainian to Receive 'Guardian of Zion' Award" tells of the presentation of this annual award to Donetsk-born Natan Sharansky. The same article reports that at one time, "Benjamin Netanyahu appointed the Ukrainian as chairman of the Jewish Agency 'Sochnut.'"

However, this is largely a secondary problem. The same cannot be said about the deliberate "self-isolation" of Jewish media from discussing any socio-political topics that concern Jews as citizens of a particular country—be it Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, or Kazakhstan. In the vast majority of cases, editors are willing to make only one exception to this rule—when it comes to antisemitism, a phenomenon that affects not only the community but also the internal politics of the state. Otherwise, the Jewish press is preoccupied solely with sectarian concerns.

Thus, in mid-January 2014, when Maidan (the mass protest in central Kyiv) had been ongoing for a month and a half and was the primary topic across the entire Ukrainian (and international) information space, the front page of one of Ukraine's main Jewish newspapers featured a huge headline: "Tu BiShvat in Our Communities." Without diminishing the significance of the New Year of Trees for the self-awareness of Ukrainian Jews, I venture to suggest that the phenomenon of the Revolution of Dignity interested them no less during that period, yet it found no place on any of the publication's pages. This is not about supporting one of the sides and risking accusations of bias. It is simply that Jews, as citizens, are free to hold different points of view on the events unfolding in their country, and it is precisely the role of Jewish newspapers to reflect these sympathies or antipathies of their readers. In this case, it is difficult to agree with the thesis that this is "not a Jewish matter"—an approach relevant to the Middle Ages that fits poorly into the modern social and informational context, where everyone is entitled to publicly express their views across the entire spectrum of issues.

Understandably, the publishers' position is clear—Jews traditionally fear being caught in the crossfire during times of major socio-political change, a fear that has historical foundations. On the other hand, "there is a judge for Jews in everything"—if desired, both the one who remained conspicuously silent and their compatriot who shouted too loudly will be pilloried. Whatever the case, the traditional approach of the Jewish media alienates a vast portion of potential readers who, besides the laws of the Passover Seder and the biographies of prominent rabbis, are also interested in such details as the socio-economic situation in the country, the challenges facing society, geopolitical choices, and so forth. This "breadth of interests" does not diminish their Jewish identity; they simply find themselves constrained by the discourse set by the majority of Jewish publications.  

Conclusion: Future Prospects

To be fair, the situation has been changing in recent years—a number of Jewish media outlets have emerged from their shells, and the world did not end; it simply turned out that Jews are divided along the same lines as their "titular" compatriots in each of the countries of the former USSR.  Is this a sign of the very "normalization" we mentioned earlier? Partially, yes, but a qualitative leap in the development of Jewish media remains unlikely as long as the vertical nature of the post-Soviet community persists. A key to change could be a closer connection with the audience, driven, among other things, by the readers' willingness to purchase (rather than receive for free) a given Jewish publication. After all, paid subscriptions cover a significant portion of Jewish media expenses in Western countries. However, this factor should not be overemphasized. It is well known that many major English-language Jewish print and online publications are backed by charitable foundations. For instance, the nearly $5 million annual budget of the online magazine Tablet has been provided for many years by the non-profit organization Nextbook, which in turn is funded by the Keren Keshet Foundation.[14]

The rescue mechanism for the world's oldest Jewish newspaper—the London-based Jewish Chronicle—in the spring of this year can also hardly be called market-driven. More than a third of the 20,000 copies of this newspaper, which has an almost 180-year history, were distributed free of charge. The publication's financial difficulties began back in 2018, but the COVID-19 epidemic dealt the final blow, and had it not been for a rescue consortium formed in April of this year, we might be speaking of the Jewish Chronicle in the past tense.  The largest Jewish newspaper in Canada—The Canadian Jewish News, which had a circulation of about 32,000 copies—did not find such protectors, and its readers did not save it, so the publication ceased to exist six months ago[15].

By the way, the Jewish newspaper with the highest circulation in the world—the Florida Jewish Journal (158,000 copies)—is distributed for free, and the average age of its readers is 67, which resembles the situation in post-Soviet countries. True, the publication has a Facebook page, which is followed by... 1,500 people. Notably, this surprises no one, as the social and communal functions of Jewish media have not been abolished, and it is highly unlikely that this sphere can be fully transitioned to market terms. This is all the more relevant for the post-Soviet Jewish community, whose demographic structure resembles an inverted pyramid, with those aged 65+ at the top. For many of them, the newspaper is the only element of connection to Jewish life in the broad sense of the word. At the same time, the absolute free nature of the publication corrupts both the founders of the Jewish media (reducing their accountability to the reader) and the consumers. It is all a matter of balance between charity and the "recipient's" desire not to become its absolute hostage.

There is another extremely important factor that distinguishes Western Jewish media from Jewish publications in the post-Soviet space. It can be summarized in one word: independence. Members of the consortium established to save The Jewish Chronicle spoke of maintaining editorial independence, and this is asserted by most community (rather than party) Jewish publications. This does not strip authors of their personal political preferences and views, but it prevents the newspaper or magazine from turning into a propaganda sheet serving private or corporate interests.

In fact, this is where the maturity of the community and its philanthropists is demonstrated—in their readiness to support a high-quality and professional publication rather than an "ideologically correct" one. However, our counterparts in the West took years to reach this point. In any case, the future of the Jewish media in the countries of the former USSR depends entirely on the community's capacity for reform. Whether the prerequisites for these reforms exist, given that most community figures are perfectly content with the current situation, remains a rhetorical question (for now).

Mikhail Gold, journalist and editor, Kyiv

[1] Rostova N., "The Rise of Russian Media." http://www.yeltsinmedia.com/events/may-1990/

[2] Address by Gidon Paenson at the conference "95-65-25," May 13, 2013. https://muuseum.jewish.ee/Community/Gidon_ru.pdf

[3] From an interview with Shmuel Zilberg by Yuli Kosharovsky. Cited from: Kosharovsky, Y. We Are Jews Again: Essays on the History of the Zionist Movement in the Former Soviet Union. Vol. 4. Jerusalem, 2010.  http://kosharovsky.com/

[4] Bespalova E., "The Newspaper 'Ami' turns 20!", https://news.jeps.ru/novosti/gazete-ami-20-let.html

[5] Gold M., "The Jewish Press of the CIS. Dead End or Transformation?" Evreyskiy Obozrevatel, No. 3/22, February 2002

[6] Zaslavskaya E., "Mikhail Gold: The Jewish Press Reflects the State of the Jewish Community, Which, If One Thinks About It, Does Not Exist." Website of the Vaad of Ukraine, April 2016, http://vaadua.org/news/mihail-gold-evreyskaya-pressa-vpolne-adekvatno-otrazhaet-sostoyanie-evreyskoy-obshchiny-kotoroy

[7] Khanin V., "In Search of Community: Models of Reviving Organized Jewish Life in the Late USSR and Post-Soviet Countries." Diasporas. Moscow, 2011, No. 2, pp. 64-79

[8] Gorin B., "The Russian Jewish Community is the Coolest in the World." Polit.ru, 13.12.2015

[9] Khanin V., "Is There a Need for Jewish Publications in the Former USSR: Sociological Aspects." Euro–Asian Jewish Policy Papers, No. 34 (April 2020)

[10] Marc Tracy, “The Jewish Week Pauses Its Print Edition”, The New York Times, July 8, 2020, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/08/business/media/jewish-week-digital.html

[11] Itamar Eichner, “Fury as Nazi supporter appears on Argentina’s newest banknote”,  Ynet, May 20, 2020, https://www.ynetnews.com/article/B1oKrvGjL

[12] “Comunidado de Llamamiento Argentino Judio: repudio al agravio a la memory del doctor Ramon Carrillo”, Iton Gadol. 19.05.2020

[13] Isaac Stanley-Becker, “Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez reveals Jewish ancestry at Hanukkah celebration”, The Washington Post, December 10, 2018, https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2018/12/10/alexandria-ocasio-cortez-reveals-jewish-ancestry-hanukkah-celebration/

[14] Debra Nussbaum Cohen, “A Foot In Both Worlds”, The New York Jewish Week, 07.11.2007

[15] David Lazarus, “Coronavirus shuts down Canada’s leading Jewish newspaper after 60 years,” JTA, April 3, 2020