Applied futurology

Sometimes you read Kostroma news and are surprised. Almost all of our journalists are prophets, seers and Nostradamus. Well, judge for yourself:

— Kostroma will return a forgotten agricultural crop to the Russians (we are talking about the fact that someday, perhaps, we will begin to grow textile hemp);

— A house-building plant will open in Kostroma in 2013;

— A database of those killed in the Great Patriotic War will be created in the Kostroma region;

— The first train “to the Snow Maiden” will arrive in Kostroma in April 2013;

...and so on.

This kind of journalism-futurology, journalism-prophecy has already become familiar to many. Of course, talking about future events is much more interesting than talking about current ones - there are so many things you can come up with! And there is no responsibility, because you can always say later, “Well, what can we do, we planned it, but it didn’t happen.” So it turns out that our city, according to most local journalists, lives in a shining future, and not in a dull present.

In it, in this future “made of glass and concrete,” there is a new bridge across the Volga, new trolleybuses running along the Kineshma highway, many children’s and sports grounds, swimming pools, kindergartens, a whole armada of snow removal equipment on the city streets and much, much more. It’s easy and pleasant to write about such a future, and even more pleasant to read.

The whole problem is that the future described by journalists never comes. Swimming pools, kindergartens and even a bridge are not being built, despite articles about plans for their construction. The poles on Kineshemka will soon rust through without waiting for the trolleybus wires, despite the fact that the diagram of the new line has been published many times in newspapers. The snow still lay in the courtyards in a half-meter layer. Why is this so?

Maybe we need to write even more intensely about the future? Can we describe even more sparkling heights? You can, for example, write that “In the 22nd century, a cosmodrome will be built in Kostroma” or, here’s another: “By 2100, all Kostroma residents will be provided with comfortable housing.” Can. But it looks bad. It looks like a kind of escape from reality.

Of course, the present does not look so attractive compared to the supposed (and often imaginary) “beautiful far away.” Writing about thieving management companies, about dirty snow, bursting pipes, about the widespread deficit of all budgets is boring, and about some local politicians it’s also scary. But honestly.

So let's still be honest!