The good stories

Archives not only tell us what has been the past, but sometimes they also indicate what may end up becoming the future. I have been in Russia in the last few days, trying to piece together the story of antibiotic discovery and their use in the recent past. I have had the pleasure of working with some incredible scientists, archivists and historians of science. I have also worked with colleagues who have been kind enough to show me key archives of historical documents, including those of the Soviet-era newspaper Pravda or Truth.

The issues of Pravda have a sharp and dark warning for us. Day in and day out, the newspaper was focused on telling the citizens and (supposedly) the world how wonderful the USSR was. It was all about the positive message of the great nation. Every experiment was perfect, every harvest better than before. The reality, unfortunately, was anything but. In the era of science and medicine, during the 1940s, while the citizens were told that the great nation was progressing by leaps and bounds, the country was, in fact, constantly falling behind. While the miracle drug, Penicillin, was becoming available in the US and the UK, the Soviet strain was useless. Something that may sound familiar to us, the Soviets were looking for friendly countries to help them out.

The insistence on telling only the good stories also meant that those who were seeking the facts, and wanted to speak the truth were sidelined in favour of those who said what the government wanted to hear. Simon Ings in his remarkable book Stalin and the Scientists tells the stories of many such episodes including that of Trofim Lysenko, a pseudo scientist, who came up with bizarre claims of converting winter wheat to spring wheat, and rejected genetics, was hailed as a soviet pioneer and a hero. Those who questioned his dubious methods and showed that he was a fraud, including the highly-regarded botanist Nikolai Vavilov, were considered enemies, jailed and died in mysterious circumstances.

Ultimately, the stories of great success appearing routinely in Pravda were convincing no one — not the citizens, not the international audience and not even the ones who were writing them. Because of the hype that had been created, the Soviet machinery created another problem for those who were doing outstanding science. Because of the lack of trust that had been created in general, their good discoveries were met with suspicion. This was the case with Gregory Gause and his discovery of the antibiotic Gramicidin S. The discovery of this powerful antibiotic ushered in a new era. While this was hailed as a major achievement around the world, and many Soviet scientists also celebrated this remarkable feat, others considered him a foreign spy. Fortunately, in his case, better senses prevailed.

We have seen our own authors, artists and directors accused of creating a negative international impression, when they have pointed to our own shortcomings in human rights, girls’ education, domestic abuse and the like. They have been accused of foreign spies, collaborators of the enemies or just vain attention-seekers. Assuming that those who seek the truth, or those who dissent, somehow are motivated by sinister desires would be wrong, unfair and most certainly not in the greatest interest of our present or our future. There is indeed good news and work to celebrate in every sector of society and those stories should be told, just as rigorously as others. But history of a former superpower tells us that passing the news or the facts through a filter, and only selecting what is considered positive (by an arbitrary and temporary standard) would be a gross error, one on which no society, no matter how powerful or large, can be built.

Published in The Express Tribune, December 11^th, 2018.

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