You must remember this

IN THE giddy capitalist dawn of the 1990s, many of the tawdry products that stocked Soviet-bloc stores (when you could find them) were driven out by better-made, better-packaged foreign ones. Milk in plastic bags, canned “luncheon meat” and Pitralon aftershave (which, as readers of old samizdat know, doubled as an aperitif among vodka-deprived prisoners) disappeared from the shelves.

Lately, these old products have been making a comeback. Polish hipsters are buying retro furniture in the pupil-dilating browns and oranges of the Jaruzelski era. Proletarian beer brands have been resurrected from Belgrade to Bratislava. In Germany the popular television series “Deutschland ‘83”, which follows an East German spy in the West, has been given the go-ahead for a second season.

Communist nostalgia is not new, but it does seem to be having a moment. This makes some sense in Russia, which ruled the empire. It is harder to understand among the central and eastern Europeans whom the Soviets ground under their boots. And in a twist that should set apparatchiks rolling in their graves, affection for the socialist era is mainly embodied in consumer products, some of them marketed by Western multinationals.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean a desire to return to the pre-1989 era,” says David Zappe, marketing director in Slovakia for Heineken, a Dutch brewing conglomerate. Most people in the region are simply discouraged about the future, he says, and “returning to the good old things brings a sense of security.” In May a Heineken-owned Slovak brewery, Zlaty Bazant, introduced a premium version of its beer based on a 1973 recipe, priced 20% higher than its standard suds. Retro brands have also been introduced by Heineken-owned labels in Serbia, Bulgaria and Croatia. All have been successful.

Such products are in tune with the region’s politics these days. Nationalism and populism are in, liberalism and globalisation out. Where earlier marketing emphasised Europeanness and modernity, Zlaty Bazant’s new slogan, Na zdravie, Slovensko! (“Cheers, Slovakia!”) vaunts its local roots. Just 30% of Slovaks now have a positive view of the European Union, according to the most recent Eurobarometer survey, while 26% see it negatively. Among Czechs, the numbers are 26% and 34%. Poland and Hungary are more pro-European, but have elected governments determined to check the power of Brussels.

Of course, the fact that a Serb enjoys quaffing a Tito-era brew does not mean he supports nationalising the auto industry. Maria Todorova, a Bulgarian historian, explains that the signals sent by reappropriating socialist culture are complicated, and do not imply rejecting capitalism. In Poland, Warsaw liberals may embrace ironic communist nostalgia as a rejection of the current nationalist government. Meanwhile, government supporters denounce liberals as somehow heirs to the communists, even as they pine for 1970s television reruns.

“Nobody is nostalgic for the communist era, but many people are nostalgic for their youth,” as Ivan Klima, a Czech novelist, put it. Yet the communist-culture buffs are not just ageing pensioners, either. Retro socialist chic often targets young urbanites with disposable income. In Prague, the best way to get kitted out in ersatz communist products is to watch for the “Retro Week” promotional sales at Lidl, a German supermarket chain. Nikita Khrushchev always believed that the consumerist West would end up buried in socialist products. He probably did not envision it happening like this.