The machine that shook the world
(HUNGARY DEC 2005)
For the west, photocopiers merely revolutionised office work in the 1980s, but in Hungary they stirred up political ferment.
When
János Kenedi arrived in New York on a scholarship in 1982, the first
thing he was told by the writer and sociologist Zsolt Csalog was:
“Imagine! You can photocopy as much as you want!” In the city of
freedom, Csalog was impressed less by the skyscrapers, Harlem or the
treasures of the Museum of Modern Arts than by the photocopiers
scattered around the corridors of New York University. And they were
freely available to anyone with a few cents to spare.
In Hungary at
the time, an ordinary citizen could access fewer than a dozen
photocopiers, in the national libraries. These machines were strictly
regulated. The archaic, slow machines could be used only to make copies
of items in the library collections – and then only after these had
been examined by the staff. A maximum of ten copies could be made on
any one occasion, unless the user had the express permission of the
library’s director. The machines had their own operator. Only he could
make copies of authorised pages, and he would also re-examine the
material before doing so.
The turning point came in 1985, when the
Soros Foundation and the Hungarian Academy of Sciences (MTA) began the
process of fitting out academic, cultural and higher education
institutions with “up-to-date equipment” – or photocopiers. In that
year, 113 institutions out of 376 that had applied were able to unveil
plaques declaring: “The procurement of this photocopier was made
possible by the Soros Foundation and the MTA.” The awkward phrasing
reflects the fact that the machines, which the Foundation had obtained
in the UK at wholesale prices, had to be bought. More importantly, they
could be bought.
Until then, they had been available for purchase
only on a very restricted basis. Two years before, Gábor Vályi, the
legendary director of the Library of Parliament, had put all his
contacts into play to obtain one modern photocopier for each of the
country’s larger libraries. His efforts were in vain: a senior Interior
Ministry official reprimanded him, reminding him of the “risks to state
security” posed by the machines.
Photocopiers rapidly became the
most desired piece of office equipment. It would be hard to say whether
this was because of their utility, or because they represented a kind
of forbidden fruit. The Soros action increased Hungary’s ‘fleet’ by 120
in a single year, but more followed. Institutions that had not
succeeded in their Soros bids could buy further imported models from
the only state agency licenced to import them, if they were prepared to
pay double the price.
A 1984 ministerial directive had defined the
photocopier as a “reproduction machine.” This meant that photocopiers
were treated the same as printing presses when it came to
manufacturing, distributing and even repairing them. The most important
rules made it the responsibility of a company’s director to ensure the
“secure storage and controlled and auditable use” of reproduction
machines, and gave the police the right to check that the rules were
applied.