Yanayev's red-headed document on the left-leaning trend spread through all Soviet cadres like falling snowflakes. In it, he sternly warned against the rise of leftist extremism, cautioning that the Soviet Union must not be led astray again. This was a sharp slap to those who believed the USSR was returning to orthodox communism.
He insisted ideological infiltration could only be blocked by cultivating a strong, affirmative belief system—not merely by denouncing democratic and liberal values as enemies. The Soviet Union itself needed a unifying faith to maintain solidarity among its republics.
Communism remained the official goal, a rallying point to bind hearts—but in practice, it had created the world's largest bureaucratic, privileged caste. Thus, Yanayev proposed blending socialism with patriotism as a core value.
He observed that America's ability to unite people of diverse races and beliefs owed much to patriotism's unifying force. To replicate this, he urged all member states to embrace the slogan: "Supporting the Soviet government is loving the motherland."
This patriotic theme had fueled the Great Patriotic War but had since been buried under rigid, bureaucratic propaganda. Determined to revive it, Yanayev tasked Surkov with leading a new era of Soviet propaganda.
"Patriotism must be subtly woven into the people's minds," Yanayev instructed. "It should feel natural, something people enjoy, not forced praise from above."
"Through paintings, films, and drawings," he continued, "we must especially target the youth. They no longer accept the erosion caused by Western liberalism."
Surkov hesitated, "Propaganda posters? They don't work well anymore. The Propaganda Department nearly destroyed the Soviet image with those."
"No," Yanayev replied firmly, "posters are too stiff, too obvious. We need cartoons—animated stories children and young people want to watch. Stories that subtly teach love for the motherland and pride in the Soviet people without feeling preachy."
"Cartoons?" Surkov was surprised; the idea was fresh and bold.
"Exactly. Animal characters can represent countries—the Soviet Union as a giant bear, the United States an eagle, France a Gallic rooster, Britain John Bull, China a rabbit. International events can be portrayed through these characters in a fun, accessible way, mixing patriotic themes without blatant self-praise."
Surkov smiled, genuinely impressed. "Only General Secretary Yanayev could conceive such a vivid idea."
"Comrade Surkov," Yanayev said kindly, "you cultural workers must get closer to the people. Working hard without understanding what the people want only widens the gap."
As a time traveler, Yanayev understood the power of such media. Didn't the right-wingers in that island nation launch KanColle to promote their ideology to youth obsessed with comics?
"For films, we must downplay political parties and highlight the heroic spirit of the government and the Red Army during the war," he continued. "Show how, while soldiers fought for the motherland, the Soviet Union never forgot them. Weave together stories of ordinary people and great events to create a positive image."
Yanayev thought of Enemy at the Gates and Stalingrad—Hollywood films that, despite their slants, told compelling war stories.
"If we plagiarize such works in spirit, creating Soviet versions of Fury, Saving Private Ryan, or Band of Brothers, even without Oscars or box office, they will surpass Western movies in spirit and impact."
Though only ideas for now, these projects would be left to Moscow's best directors and, crucially, Surkov's Propaganda Ministry to realize.
"We must produce at least one high-quality film a year, good enough to rival Oscars, shame Hollywood in the West, and reverse our propaganda disadvantage," Yanayev said proudly.
"One film a year?" Surkov was stunned. Even he doubted consistent quality.
"Yes," Yanayev confirmed, "with near-unlimited funding. The best directors will write and shoot scripts based on this outline."
"And the cartoon—the name?" Surkov asked, eager to finalize the plan.
Yanayev paused, then smiled faintly, "Let's call it Year, Year..."