Minority Churches as Media Settlers 1st

Edition Dorota Hall

Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmeta.com/product/minority-churches-as-media-settlers-1st-edition-dorot
a-hall/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Board Games as Media 1st Edition Paul Booth

https://ebookmeta.com/product/board-games-as-media-1st-edition-
paul-booth/

Russians as the New Minority Ethnicity And Nationalism

In The Soviet Successor States 1st Edition Jeff Chinn

https://ebookmeta.com/product/russians-as-the-new-minority-
ethnicity-and-nationalism-in-the-soviet-successor-states-1st-
edition-jeff-chinn/

The Mystical Christ Religion As a Personal Spiritual

Experience Hall

https://ebookmeta.com/product/the-mystical-christ-religion-as-a-
personal-spiritual-experience-hall/

Media As Politics in South Asia 1st Edition Sahana

Udupa

https://ebookmeta.com/product/media-as-politics-in-south-
asia-1st-edition-sahana-udupa/
Social media management: Using Social Media as a
Business Instrument Second Edition Amy Van Looy

https://ebookmeta.com/product/social-media-management-using-
social-media-as-a-business-instrument-second-edition-amy-van-
looy/

Ethics of Ancient Greece and Rome 1st Edition Dorota

Probucka

https://ebookmeta.com/product/ethics-of-ancient-greece-and-
rome-1st-edition-dorota-probucka/

Voices of Challenge in Australia’s Migrant and Minority

Press (Palgrave Studies in the History of the Media)

https://ebookmeta.com/product/voices-of-challenge-in-australias-
migrant-and-minority-press-palgrave-studies-in-the-history-of-
the-media/

Cinematic Settlers The Settler Colonial World in Film

1st Edition Janne Lahti

https://ebookmeta.com/product/cinematic-settlers-the-settler-
colonial-world-in-film-1st-edition-janne-lahti/

Historic Churches of New Mexico Today Graziano

https://ebookmeta.com/product/historic-churches-of-new-mexico-
today-graziano/
Minority Churches as
Media Settlers

How do minority Christian churches adapt to and negotiate with the changes
brought about by deep mediatization? How do they use their media to pres-
ent themselves to their followers and the general public? This book aims
to answer these questions by investigating how minority organizations of
two different Christian traditions in the UK and Poland – the Seventh-day
­Adventist Church and the Orthodox Churches – use their own media to
­position themselves in their social, religious, and political environments.
Based on the analyses of media practices, media content, and interview
­material, the study develops the new concept of media settlers, which per-
tains to religious organizations that use their media to fulfill their own
aims: expand, assert their authority, and maintain their communities. They
do so through five key media practices, which can be defined as strategies:
­acknowledgment, authorization, omission, replication of content, and mass-­
mediatization of digital media.
This book is of particular interest to scholars of religion and mediatization,
mainly sociologists, graduate students, and qualitative researchers working
with discourse analysis. It is an insightful read for anyone interested in the
Seventh-day Adventist and Orthodox Churches nowadays.

Dorota Hall is an Associate Professor at the Institute of Philosophy and

­Sociology, Polish Academy of Sciences, Warsaw.

Marta Kołodziejska is an Assistant Professor at the Faculty of Sociology,

University of Warsaw, Poland.

Kerstin Radde-Antweiler is a Professor of Religious Studies and deputy

spokesperson of the ZeMKI at the University of Bremen, Germany.
Routledge Research in Religion, Media and Culture
Series editors: Jolyon Mitchell, Stewart Hoover and Jenna Supp-Montgomerie

Media and New Religions in Japan

Erica Baffelli

Religion and Media in China

Insights and Case Studies from the Mainland, Taiwan and Hong Kong
Edited by Stefania Travagnin

Creating Church Online

Ritual, Community and New Media
Tim Hutchings

Digital Spirits in Religion and Media

Possession and Performance
Alvin Eng Hui Lim

The Third Spaces of Digital Religion

Edited by Nabil Echchaibi and Stewart M. Hoover

Religion, Media and Conversion in Iran

Mediated Christianity in an Islamic Context
Sara Afshari

Muslims, Minorities and the Media

Discourses on Islam in the West
Laurens de Rooij

Minority Churches as Media Settlers

Negotiating Deep Mediatization
Dorota Hall, Marta Kołodziejska, and Kerstin Radde-Antweiler

For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.

com/Routledge-Research-in-Religion-Media-and-Culture/book-series/
RRRMC
Minority Churches as
Media Settlers
Negotiating Deep Mediatization

Dorota Hall, Marta Kołodziejska,

and Kerstin Radde-Antweiler
First published 2024
by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2024 Dorota Hall, Marta Kołodziejska, and Kerstin Radde-Antweiler
The right of Dorota Hall, Marta Kołodziejska, and Kerstin Radde-
Antweiler to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted
in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or
reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical,
or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks
or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and
explanation without intent to infringe.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Hall, Dorota, author. | Kołodziejska, Marta, author. |
Radde-Antweiler, Kerstin, author.
Title: Minority churches as media settlers : negotiating deep
mediatization / Dorota Hall, Marta Kołodziejska, and Kerstin
Radde-Antweiler.
Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, [2023] |
Series: Routledge research in religion, media and culture ; vol. 14 |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022061931 | ISBN 9781032322285 (hbk) |
ISBN 9781032322292 (pbk) | ISBN 9781003313489 (ebk)
Subjects: LCSH: Church and mass media. | Religious minorities—
Effect of technological innovations on. | Social media—Religious
aspects—Christianity. | Digital media—Religious aspects—
Christianity. | Internet in church work.
Classification: LCC BV652.95 .H34 2023 | DDC 261.5/2—dc23/
eng/20230315
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022061931

ISBN: 978-1-032-32228-5 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-1-032-32229-2 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-003-31348-9 (ebk)

DOI: 10.4324/b23040
Typeset in Bembo
by codeMantra
This book is a result of the project MMCCRITDM –
Religious Minorities and the Media: the communicative construction
of religious identity in times of deep mediatisation (2018–2022)
funded by Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (Grant
Number RA 2146/2-1) and Narodowe Centrum Nauki
(Grant Number 2016/23/G/HS6/04342).
Contents

List of figures ix
List of tables xi
List of contributors xiii
Acknowledgments xv

Introduction 1

1 Media settlers: corporate actors’ shaping of media 30

2 Going with the trends: adapting to deep mediatization 64

3 Shaping the media: negotiating the trends of deep mediatization 91

4 United in narratives: integrating the church community 117

5 Being a part of this world: narrative alignment with society 149

6 Being different: narrative engagement with power dynamics 177

Conclusion 205

Index 225
Figures

3.1 S creenshot of the lecture by Mark Finley on the Głos

Nadziei YouTube channel (YouTube, Głos Nadziei, Three
cosmic Messages) 105
3.2 Screenshot of the same video, one second shorter (YouTube,
Adwentyści Łódź, PILNE WEZWANIE DO) 105
3.3 Screenshot of the post on the Facebook page of the Seventh-
day ­Adventist Church in Poland including the link to the
video on the Głos Nadziei ­YouTube channel (Facebook,
Kościół Adwentystów Dnia Siódmego w RP) 106
4.1 Bishop Gregory with the participants of the Holy Mass in
Białystok, May 2016 (WPAKP 2016(6), cover) 118
4.2 Participants of a church event in Liverpool (TM 2017(24), 18) 119
6.1  Picture accompanying The Messenger’s article about the
Protestant Reformation (TM 2017(6), 6) 185
6.2 Picture accompanying the Znaki Czasu’s article about the
Protestant Reformation (ZC 2017(10), 20) 186
Tables

1.1 The analyzed Orthodox and Adventist media 10

Contributors

Dorota Hall is a cultural anthropologist and sociologist and an Associ-

ate Professor at the Institute of Philosophy and Sociology of the Polish
­Academy of Sciences. From 2018 to 2022, she was the President of the
­International Study of Religion in Eastern and Central Europe Associ-
ation (ISORECEA). Her main research interests are religion and power
relations, especially in the context of non-normative sexualities (book
Searching for a Place: LGBT Christians in Poland, 2016, in Polish). She was a
Co-PI for the Minorities and the Media project (2018–2022).
Marta Kołodziejska, PhD, is a sociologist of religion and an Assistant
­Professor at the Faculty of Sociology, University of Warsaw, Poland. Her
main research interests are mediatization of religion and spirituality, and
digital religion. Her last book, titled Online Catholic Communities. Commu-
nity, ­Authority, and Religious Individualisation, was published by ­Routledge in
2018. She was a postdoc in the Minorities and the Media project (2018–2022).
Kerstin Radde-Antweiler is a Professor of Religious Studies and deputy
spokesperson of the ZeMKI at the University of Bremen, Germany. Her
research focuses on religion in times of deep mediatization, mediatization
theory, video gaming, and ritual studies (Handbook of Journalism and Reli-
gion (Routledge 2020), Mediatized Religion in Asia (Routledge 2019), and
Methods for Researching Video Games and Religion (Routledge 2018)). She
was a Co-PI for the Minorities and the Media project (2018–2022).
Acknowledgments

The authors would like to thank Łukasz Fajfer for his work as a postdoc and
a specialist in Orthodox Churches in the Minorities and the Media project and
for his help during the writing of this book. Second, we are very grateful to
the Routledge “Routledge Research in Religion, Media and Culture” Series
Editors Stewart ­Hoover, Jolyon Mitchell, and Jenna Supp-Montgomerie for
their support of this book project. Third, we would like to thank Paul Weller
and Erich Bleich for their insightful comments and suggestions at the initial
stage of the research, which have helped us develop our analytical approach.
We would also like to express our gratitude to all our Interviewees from the
UK and Poland, who were kind enough to talk to us twice, the second time
taking place during the hectic and uncertain first months of the COVID-19
pandemic. Special thanks go to the Adventist and Orthodox journal editors
for granting us ­access to the media content, and to the team of Głos Nadziei
for providing us with a lot of additional material. The editing process went
smoothly thanks to the unmatched diligence and attention to detail of Car-
oline Müller.
Introduction

When we ask first-time students of religion and mediatization in Poland and

Germany about their perception of religious organizations and their media
use, a typical response is that they are “outdated”: they do not know how
to use TikTok or Snapchat, they are slow to adapt to changes, and their
content is not interesting to most young people. Once the students become
­acquainted with a variety of forms of media use among religious organiza-
tions, they admit that this view is largely inf luenced by popular perception,
but that in fact, the reality is much more nuanced. It is true that perhaps
the majority of global religions will never be as tech and media savvy as
developers in Silicon Valley. But the question is, why would they strive to
achieve this goal? As religious organizations, they are mostly concerned with
the matters of theology, organization, or proselytizing. For them, the use of
­media is a means to this end, but not an end in itself, which also explains why
technological development is not their main concern.
At the same time, some traces of the aforementioned common percep-
tion can be found indirectly in academic literature. When discussing the use
of media in society, some works refer to technology developers as implicit
or explicit benchmarks for all other groups or individuals. For instance, in
his paper on “media-related pioneer communities,” Andreas Hepp (2016)
­acknowledges that different needs and purposes may drive media to use pat-
terns; however, he does not discern between various paces of innovation and
models of media and technology adaptation. The “pioneering collectivities”
generate media-related practices and discourses, and those are “ref lected”
by regular people, “providing them with orientation in their everyday lives”
(Hepp 2016, 919). Similarly, the authors of the concept of deep mediatization
(Hepp and Hasebrink 2018), when pointing to its various trends and conse-
quences, mention the “pace of innovation” and the “pressure to adapt” by
individuals and organizations alike. What follows is the rather narrow view
of what that pace actually is and who dictates it: if media pioneers set that
pace for everyone else, then logically everyone else lags behind. While this
issue is discussed in Chapter 1, it is important to mention that to ­understand
why and how religious organizations use their media, it is vital to critically

DOI: 10.4324/b23040-1
2 Introduction
evaluate the proposed tech-oriented benchmarks of innovation and look
­beyond them.­
The topic of this book emerged from such a critical perspective: it stems
from the premise that in order to better understand the role of religious
­organizations in times of deep mediatization, more attention needs to be
paid to how they use the available media and what goals this use fulfills.
The first purpose of this book is therefore to show how minority Christian
organizations in the UK and Poland – the Orthodox Churches (the Polish
Autocephalous Orthodox Church, the Archdiocese of Thyateira and Great
Britain, and the Russian Orthodox Diocese of Sourozh in the UK), and
the Seventh-day Adventist (SDA) Church – use their media to negotiate the
trends of deep mediatization and to position themselves in the national and
religious contexts of both countries. In consequence, the second aim of this
book is to introduce the concept of media settlers, by showing how religious
organizations, despite structural and contextual differences, use and shape
their media ensembles to fulfill their own goals, such as maintaining author-
ity and the unity of the congregations.
The interest of the book is in this specific actor constellation (Hepp
2014, Radde-Antweiler 2019), that is, the minority churches listed above.
However, instead of using religious minorities as an analytical concept, the
­research standing behind the book was interested in how the organizations’
self-­perception as minorities inf luences their positioning processes in their
media. On the one hand, the basic premise was that organizations with less
financial power and resources than the dominant churches, for instance, tend
to be more eager to engage with digital media, since the content can be
uploaded with little economic capital to reach a wide audience anywhere
and anytime. This may be important especially in the case of countries like
Poland, with restricted media access for non-dominant religious organiza-
tions, to gain visibility in the public discourse and become a voice within
society. On the other hand, the selection of specific Christian minorities was
motivated by the fact that these organizations have a hierarchical structure
of governance, which may inhibit the swift adoption of more f lexible media
frameworks, and may be the cause for reluctance toward the trends of deep
mediatization.
The focus on self-perception, however, does not imply a disregard for the
context in which the religious organizations operate, in particular pertaining
to their legal status and access to public media. On the contrary, awareness
of this context is important to better understand the constraints and possi-
ble ­inf luences on the media practices and the narratives that the churches
produce.
To achieve the aforementioned aims, one must first investigate all the
communicative practices (including media practices) within the religious
­organizations, which are the “complex and highly contextualized patterns of
doing” (Hepp, Breiter and Hasebrink 2018, 27).1 This level of analysis shows
how and based on what principles the media work is organized and who
 Introduction 3
makes key decisions regarding what and when is produced and published.
Analysis of the media practices offers insight into how church communica-
tion is done via different media formats, as well as into the forms of adapting
to and negotiating the deep mediatization trends. Those practices do not,
however, fully account for the aims and goals that the organizations wish to
fulfill in their communications: in order to get a glimpse into those goals, the
level of media narratives must also be investigated. Taking into consideration
both levels enables us to get a fuller picture of what each church wishes to
achieve and with what means. It also allows us to see the media practices as
the organizations’ strategies, whose aims are expressed implicitly and explic-
itly through media narratives.

Theoretical background and research rationale

In order to analyze how minority churches adapt to and negotiate the trends
of deep mediatization, this book follows the constructivist perspective on
mediatization (and the related concept of deep mediatization) by Friedrich
Krotz, Andreas Hepp, Uwe Hasebrink, and others, which understands medi-
atization as a process which has both a quantitative and qualitative dimension:
it ref lects on the increasing spread of media technologies and formats, while
pointing to the tightening of connections between all social domains and
the media (Hepp and Hasebrink 2018). Deep mediatization indicates that
this process has further intensified with the development of digital media.
­Described in detail in Chapter 1, the perspective focuses on what actors do
with media and to what end. Therefore, when operationalized for the pur-
pose of empirical research, it investigates communicative practices (which in
times of deep mediatization more often than not become media practices)
that take place within an organization or community. To this end, one must
first discern between media repertoire, media ensemble, and media environ-
ments as three levels on which these practices can be observed (Hepp and
“Communicative Figurations” Research Network 2017).
The term media repertoire pertains to all media that an individual uses for
various purposes, for instance, to read the news, contact friends and family,
pray, or study. The repertoire is part of a larger set of media used within the
organization or a community, which is called the media ensemble. It must
be stressed that the media ensemble is not equal to the sum of repertoires; for
­instance, while none of the analyzed churches have an official ­TikTok ac-
count, there are private TikTok accounts of Adventist and ­Orthodox ­believers
(in both the UK and Poland) that constitute the media repertoire of those
individuals and other viewers. Simultaneously, the ensembles are part of the
larger media environment, comprising all media available in the country, re-
gion, or within the organization globally (depending on how we identify the
macro level). One must take note of the fact that the churches do not make
use of all available media formats in their country, which means that they
are not present on all social media, streaming platforms, podcast platforms,
4 Introduction
terrestrial TV stations, etc. While it may not be possible to i­nvestigate the
practices on the level of the media environment, it should be considered as a
background against which the media ensembles function. In this study, the
media environments of the UK and Poland inform the analyses of church
media ensembles, insofar as they provide the important cultural, histori-
cal, political, and legal contexts of how church media can function in both
countries.
Focusing on the media ensembles offers insights into the churches’ com-
munication and enables the researchers to draw conclusions about the forms
of this communication and its positioning in different national and media
environments. However, the media ensembles will likely differ depending
on the country: for instance, the Orthodox Churches in the UK may use
different media than in Greece or the US. This implies that the results of
analyses from one national context will not be fully replicable in another. In
fact, a closer look at the ensembles considered for this study already suggests
the validity of such a premise.
It should be added that existing research on the relationship between reli-
gious organizations and media oftentimes focuses on individual actors within
the organizations (as in the case of Heidi Campbell’s digital creatives, see
Campbell 2021), or on the media repertoires of those individuals, rather than
the media ensembles of the churches (Campbell 2010). Other works, such as
Hanna Stähle’s (2021) book on the mediatization of Orthodoxy in Russia,
assume a media-centered perspective and do not elaborate on the media use
within the organization, nor do they offer a comparative perspective (nation-
or religion-wise). There are also publications, such as the one on mediatized
religious authority within religious organizations (Hoover 2016), that apart
from focusing on the issue of authority, typically do not address the position-
ing of the churches vis-à-vis the “outside” world, i.e. the majority religion
or the secular society in general. None of these studies draw on the strategies
that the churches assume in their media to maintain authority and the unity
of their congregation. As such, the findings presented in this volume add a
new dimension to the issues touched upon in the cited works and introduce
new perspectives to the studies on mediatization and religious organizations.

Selection of churches
While the research focused on how religious organizations use media to have a
public voice and to remain relevant in society, a specific actor constellation was
chosen for analysis, namely minority Christian organizations. As a rule, Eu-
rope-based studies on minority groups or beliefs and mediatization deal with
the issue of their representation in mainstream media and/or take into account
traditions and groups that strongly differ from the religious profile of the ma-
jority society, in particular, Muslim communities (e.g., Bleich, ­Bloemraad and
Abdelhamid 2015; Bleich, Bloemraad and de Graauw 2015) or new religious
movements (e.g., Francis and Knott 2020, Singler and Barker 2022). Christian
minorities are typically marginalized in academic research on mediatization.
 Introduction 5
One exception is the recent research project on the role of print and digital
media in communication within the religious communities such as Jehovah’s
Witnesses and the Vineyard community (Rota 2019, Huber 2019).
The choice of two Christian minorities – the Orthodox and the Adventist
Churches – is based on the premise that due to formal organization and struc-
ture, they have their particular media agenda and production priorities, which
may inf luence how they adapt to and negotiate the trends of deep mediati-
zation. Comparing two minorities from different traditions and operating in
two distinctive national contexts allows us to analyze these negotiations and
adaptations not as specific to one particular church, but rather, as more prev-
alent among minority Christian churches as such. These two minorities were
chosen due to the fact that they represent two different traditions: ­Orthodox
Christianity is the religion with a centuries-long history – and in the Polish
case, where it has an established position – with an autocephalous form of
organization. In the UK, the beginning of recorded Orthodox presence was
in the 18th century, but the two analyzed Orthodox Churches were both
established in the 20th century. While a minority religion in both the UK
and Poland, it is the majority church in several countries, including Russia,
Ukraine, Greece, Bulgaria, and Romania. The SDA Church, in contrast, is a
Protestant denomination established in the US in the late 19th century. With
an approximate membership of 22 million followers globally, it is a m ­ inority
church in any country where it is present, as of September 2022. The s­ elected
minorities also have a different status in Poland (where the Adventist and
Orthodox Churches are formally recognized as churches by the state) and
the UK (where they are registered charities). All of the aforementioned dif-
ferences will likely translate into how organizations covered by the study
– the Polish Autocephalous Orthodox Church (PAOC), the Archdiocese of
Thyateira and Great Britain, the Russian Orthodox Diocese of Sourozh, and
the SDA Church in Poland and the UK – structure their media and what
type of content they produce. At the same time, since the analyzed churches
are both Christian organizations and minority churches in both countries, it
is expected that there may be some similarities in terms of their overarching
aims and approaches to attaining them, which will be explored in the fol-
lowing chapters.

Selection of countries
The comparison between Poland and the UK is based on the premise that
in order to analyze how religious organizations use their media, it is best to
compare different social and religious contexts, as well as different media
environments (i.e., the entirety of media used in the country). As far as the
former is concerned, there are notable differences in this regard between
the UK and Poland. The UK’s total population is approx. 68 million, while
there are approx. 38 million Poles (worldometers.info 2022), and the ethnic
and religious composition of both states is also very different. In England
and Wales, approx. 85% of the inhabitants are white (out of which approx.
6 Introduction
78% are white British) (ONS 2021a), and the second largest ethnic group is
Asian/Asian British (approx. 8% in total, with the majority being Indian and
­Pakistani) (ONS 2021b), followed by approx. 3.5% Black African/­Caribbean/
Black British.2
In Poland, official data does not discern between White/Black/Asian
and instead provides information on the inhabitants of Poland who declare
­national-ethnic identity other than Polish. According to 2011 census data,
approx. 1.5% of the population declared solely non-Polish identity and 2.3%
both Polish and non-Polish (GUS 2015). A separate dataset includes the num-
ber of temporary and permanent residence permits issued in Poland, where
the state of origin of applicants is included; however, it does not cover a large
number of circular migrants, the majority coming from Ukraine. According
to estimates, in 2018, there were 1 million (approx. 2.5% of the population)
Ukrainian migrants in Poland ( Jaroszewicz 2018, 5).3 Although it is not pos-
sible to directly compare the national datasets between the UK and Poland,
it is clear from the available sources that the British society has a significant
number of migrants of various generations, while the Polish society is less
diverse, with the growing presence of Ukrainian migrants who nevertheless
expose strong cultural similarities with the Polish majority.
Another difference between the two states pertains to religious a­ ffiliation.
In England and Wales, 51% of the citizens are Christians (most of whom
belong to the Anglican Church), while the second largest group are the
­unaffiliated (approx. 38%). Muslims comprise approx. 6% of the population,
followed by approx. 2% Hindus (ONS 2021b). Poland is a predominantly
­Roman C ­ atholic country (approx. 85% of the population), although the
number of practicing Catholics is significantly lower (official Church data
from 2019 indicates that only approx. 37% of Catholics attend weekly mass,
ISKK 2021). The largest religious minority are members of the O ­ rthodox
Church (1.3%) and the Protestant churches, who together comprise less than
0.5% (GUS 2021, 119).4 According to CBOS (2020), the unaffiliated/non-­
believers comprise 9% of the population. In sum, while the British society
is multireligious, with a significant number of the non-affiliated, the Polish
one is, at least formally, mostly Roman Catholic, with all religious minorities
comprising 3% of the population.

Media environments
Another dimension of difference between the countries pertains to their
­ edia environments. Poland, like other countries in Central and Eastern
m
­Europe, has a “polarized political” model of media environment, that includes
“strong state intervention in the realm of media, and parallelism between
media outlets and political parties” (Kundzewicz, Painter and Kundzewicz
2019). After the fall of communism in 1989, the Broadcasting Act from 1992
regulated the media environment by creating the Polish national television
and the Polish national radio. The newly established National Broadcasting
 Introduction 7
Council (Krajowa Rada Radiofonii i Telewizji 2021), a formally independent
­institution enshrined in the Constitution of the Republic of Poland (1997),
acted as the oversight body for the public (for detailed information on the
media environment in Poland after 1989, see Kuś 2019). Besides the con-
tinuing importance of TV and radio, print media still plays an important
role in the Polish media landscape, although its readership has been steadily
­declining over the last decade:

(…) despite the fact that a significant majority of Poles (28.2 million)
a­ ccess the Internet, there is still a significant and politically relevant group
of media users, especially elderly people, who are not active o ­ nline, but
whose political relevance should not be underestimated. For most, tele-
vision is still the primary source of news about politics.
(Kuś 2019, 58)

In the UK, the media environment has a different composition than in

­Poland. Already in 2007, Terzis came to the conclusion that

(t)he media landscape in the United Kingdom is large, complex and

­mature, arguably ranking second globally to that of the USA. This status
is derived to some extent from the use of English as the primary natural
language of production and content. (…) A desire to be present in emerg-
ing global media markets led to increasing deregulation under both Con-
servative governments (1979–1997) and the Labour administrations of
Tony Blair (1997 to 2007).
(Terzis 2007, 43)

In contrast to Poland, the British media environment is therefore not mostly

controlled by the state but is more subject to free market principles and, in
consequence, more deregulated. The distribution and relevance of individual
­media formats within the media environment also paints a different picture. TV
and especially print media have been losing importance for years. In the UK,
the digital media has been developing and gaining popularity at a rapid pace:

When compared to other European countries, such as Belgium and

­Romania, UK users show an increasing level of excessive Internet use,
owed somewhat to smart device proliferation.
(Benson, Hand and Hartshorne 2019, 4)

At the same time, in Poland, the decline in press readership is attributed to

more readers going online for their news media; for instance, while the over-
all revenue from print media declined by 48% between 2004 and 2019,

The sharp fall in print circulation is partially offset by new reve-

nue streams from digital circulation and subscription. By 2019, online
8 Introduction
circulation was worth 242 million zloty and accounts for a majority of
circulation revenue.
(Accenture 2021, 6)

The media environments differ with regard to religious programming as well.

In the UK, religious organizations have limited options to obtain broadcasting
licenses, as they cannot, for instance, run national analog terrestrial radio sta-
tions. The Communications Act from 2003 prohibits religious organizations
from holding numerous licenses, including public teletext, ­television and/or
radio multiplex, and a Channel 3 or 5 license (Communications Act 2003, Part
III, Section 348). Religious bodies are, however, allowed to ­apply for digital
program service, cable TV, and local analog radio licenses. ­Religious shows
can appear in public media; however, as far as television is concerned, they can-
not “seek recruits” (Ofcom 2013). There is also religious broadcasting on the
BBC: Channels 1 and 2 must allocate at least 115 hours to religious programs
annually, “some of which must be in Peak Viewing Time,” while BBC Radio
2 and 4 must broadcast 170 and 200 hours, respectively, of religious output
each year (Ofcom 2020). Most importantly, this programming must include a
variety of faiths, so it cannot be dedicated solely to, e.g., the Anglican Church.
In Poland, the Broadcasting Act from 1992 states that churches and reli-
gious associations with a regulated legal position can apply to the National
Broadcasting Council for a social broadcaster status (Ustawa o Radiofonii i
Telewizji 1992) and as such do not have to pay the broadcasting license for
either TV or radio. As of 2021, there are nine such social broadcasters in
­Poland, eight of which are associated with the Roman Catholic Church – and
one is Orthodox (Radio Orthodoxia) (KRRiT 2021). Seven in total are r­ adio
broadcasters, some nationwide, others regional. Other matters pertaining to
religious broadcasting are regulated by broadcasting acts, as well as – in the
case of 15 churches – separate Acts of Law regulating their relationship with
the Polish state. Those Acts typically confirm the churches’ right to publish
and broadcast their own media and state that the churches may broadcast their
services and religious shows in public TV and radio.
The different media environments, coupled with the aforementioned dif-
ferences and similarities between the churches and contexts, are likely to
inf luence the media ensembles of the churches. Along with the social and
­religious contexts, they constitute the realms within which religious organ-
izations can operate. To a degree, the media environment also affects the
media ensembles, as it limits what the churches can or cannot do: by the same
token, it inf luences media practices and, subsequently, media narratives.

Media ensembles
Overall, the media ensembles of the analyzed churches comprise print me-
dia (typically monthly or quarterly magazines), radio stations (with one
Polish Orthodox exception, online ones), online TV, as well as shows on
 Introduction 9
Polish national radio (SDA Church and the PAOC) and programs on the
Polish ­national television (PAOC). In the SDA case, radio and TV are local
branches of the Hope Channel International conglomerate, meaning that
they include productions of the US-based Adventist media. Furthermore,
the analyzed organizations have official websites in both Poland and the UK
and manage a variety of social media accounts, although on different levels:
there are official SDA Facebook pages for Poland and the UK alike, but they
are fewer in number for the analyzed Orthodox Churches. The same applies
to Instagram profiles. There is also a variety of local YouTube channels and
social media accounts of local congregations, which are run by the parishes.
One notable difference between the churches is that both in Poland and
the UK, the SDA Church is more active on the Internet overall, offering a
wider variety of digital media channels and posting more content than the
Orthodox Churches. None of the churches, however, have official TikTok
or Instagram accounts (for details on the ensembles, see Chapter 2). Another
difference pertains to emphasis on the mission of the media. In its global
church strategy document “I Will Go Strategic Focus 2020–2025,” the SDA
Church explicitly refers to the importance of using digital and non-digital
media not only to engage Adventist youth but also to promote Adventist
teachings and Ellen G. White’s writings among non-SDA audiences, and in-
crease the use of SDA social media (Adventist Mission 2022).5 Furthermore,
in both Poland and the UK, website descriptions of the Media/Commu-
nications departments include references to fulfilling the church’s mission
through the available means of communication. The analyzed Orthodox
Churches have not published a similar strategic plan as of October 2022, and
the official websites do not contain information on the media departments
and their activities.
For the purpose of this study, only official print and digital media from
the SDA and the Orthodox Churches in Poland and the UK were consid-
ered. For the sake of comparability, TV and radio stations were not included:
while the Orthodox Church in Poland has a terrestrial radio station Radio
­Orthodoxia, registered by the national broadcasting council in Poland (that
assigns FM frequencies), no fully Orthodox public radio is available in the UK
(some Orthodox programs appear, however, in local radio stations). There is
also no Adventist radio of the same status in either Poland or the UK, only
the internet-based radio stations (see Chapter 2 for details). There are also
no nationwide, public Orthodox or Adventist television channels in either
Poland or the UK, although there are Orthodox programs emitted locally in
Poland, and the Orthodox mass is transmitted on national Polish television
(although the channels have changed over the years). However, since the
organizations in both countries have their own nationwide press titles, those
were included in the analyses. For similar reasons, the official websites were
chosen as well. All collected media was “official,” i.e., it was published by
church-owned outlets and was explicitly defined as an official medium (for
instance, the footer of the adventist.uk website states that “Adventist.uk is the
10 Introduction
Table 1.1 The analyzed Orthodox and Adventist media

The Orthodox Churches

The UK
print media Cathedral Newsletter/Sourozh Orthodox Herald
Messenger
websites thyateira.org.uk sourozh.org
Poland
print media Wiadomości Polskiego Cerkiewny Wiestnik
Autokefalicznego Kościoła
Prawosławnego
websites orthodox.pl
The Seventh-day Adventist Church
The UK
print media The Messenger Encounter
websites adventist.uk (incl. all subsites for Ireland, Wales, Scotland, North
England, and South England: https://adventist.ie/, https://
wm.adventist.uk/, https://adventist.scot/, https://nec.adventist.uk/,
https://sec.adventist.uk/)
Poland
print media Znaki Czasu Głos Adwentu
websites adwent.pl bielsko.adwent.pl

Source: own elaboration.

official website of the Seventh-day Adventist Church in UK and Ireland”).

As such, the collected media were vital parts of the media ensembles for the
analyzed churches in both countries. Table 1.1 lists all of the analyzed press
titles and digital sources.
In the course of the study, selected social media of the churches have been
included as supplementary material (i.e. were not subject to systematic anal-
yses, but used for comparative purposes). The inclusion pertained to ­official
Facebook pages and groups of the churches, as well as selected YouTube
channels (only for the Adventist Church, as there were no official Orthodox
counterparts). The social media was analyzed from 2018 to September 2022.

Methods of analysis
To analyze the collected media, several methods have been employed. The
print media was either acquired in pdf format, or scanned, and the digi-
tal m
­ edia content was downloaded with the use of a web scraper (an auto-
mated tool for downloading website content). The media material comprised
content published between June 2016 and December 2017. This timeframe
was chosen due to the fact that it coincided with the sudden massive f low
of asylum seekers from countries from the Middle East and Africa, mainly
Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq. One of the aims of the study was to investigate
 Introduction 11
whether this situation and varying responses of the countries6 would affect
the media narratives, as well as the forms of positioning of the churches
as ­m inorities. Overall, however, it was concluded that the crisis had little
­effect on church media practices and narratives, as it rarely appeared in the
­Orthodox or ­Adventist media.
On top of the media material collection, two rounds of episodic inter-
views (Flick 1997) with media specialists from the Orthodox and Adventist
Churches were conducted, the first in Spring-Summer of 2019, and the s­ econd
in late Spring-Summer of 2020.7 The interviewed church media ­producers
included media departments’ directors, editors, independent creators, and
technical staff: eight persons per church and per country per each round,
­totaling in 32 interviews per church for both rounds (64 for all o­ rganizations).
The interviews were conducted in English and Polish and then transcribed.
The interviews offered insights into the media practices of the churches: a
separate section of the interview was dedicated to such topics as the organ-
izational structure, media strategy and its aims, publication procedure, and
chain of authority. The data on media practices was then compared with the
research on the churches’ media ensembles: the researchers investigated the
media structures, ownership, and status within each organization, followed
by the publication schedules in the analyzed media. The analysis also ­involved
researching any relevant documents published by the churches which con-
cerned media and publications. These steps ensured that the media practices
were contextualized and analyzed in a systematic manner.
The entire material was then analyzed with the use of the sociology of
knowledge approach to discourse (SKAD) (Keller 2013), which was deemed
the most suitable for discussing the meaning-making processes without losing
sensitivity to relations of domination and power that inform the work of dis-
courses. In his research program, Reiner Keller combines Foucault’s theory
of discourse – which was also a reference point for Fairclough (1992) – with
the interpretative paradigm of social sciences. Following Keller’s ­approach to
discourse, the analysis consisted of three steps: first, the problem/phenomenal
structure was analyzed, pertaining to the identification of key actors, issues,
and values. The second step consisted of an investigation of the Deutung-
smuster (meaning patterns), i.e. interpretative schemes, frames, connecting the
phenomena in meaningful constellations. Last, the narrative structure was
analyzed, with a focus on identifying the key storylines, plots, and actors
within the material (Keller 2013).
Based on this analysis, a matrix of analytical categories was ascribed to
the formation of media narratives within Adventist and Orthodox media.
Moreover, topics picked up within the churches’ media narratives, references
to mainstream secular media content, the relations between them, as well as
the kind of actions stated there in connection with a particular phenomenon
(topic) were taken into consideration. Furthermore, by using SKAD to eval-
uate the material gathered during episodic interviews, the comparison of the
findings from media content with those from the interviews was possible.
12 Introduction
The status of the Adventist and Orthodox Churches
in Poland and the UK
As noticed by James T. Richardson (2006), in their legislation and policies,
countries establish religious hierarchies, which is a means through which
they govern religious pluralism understood as visible religious diversity of
groups and individuals within a society. Translating this into our case studies,
we can conclude that Poland as a country regulates religious pluralism more
strictly than the UK. In Poland, the hierarchy is strong and involves three
levels of state recognition of churches and religious associations (apart from
that, there are formally unrecognized religious organizations that can operate
freely as long as their activity does not break the law). In the UK, the hierar-
chical structure is much f latter.
Although no religion in Poland has the status of a state religion, the ­Roman
Catholic Church (RCC) enjoys a special legal status: it operates under an
international treaty, the Concordat, made between the Holy See and the
Republic of Poland (signed in 1993, ratified in 1998), and additionally, the
Act on the Relations between the State and the Catholic Church in Poland.
It is important to note that pursuant to the laws of Poland, the provisions of
the Concordat, like the provisions of any other international treaties, have
priority over domestic statutory enactments. At the bottom of the hierarchy,
there is the overwhelming majority of state-recognized religious organiza-
tions (currently 171 churches and religious associations and five inter-church
bodies) that operate on the basis of an entry to the Register of Churches and
Religious Associations kept by the Minister of the Interior and Administra-
tion (MSWiA 2022). These organizations are granted specific rights, includ-
ing tax reliefs. Upon request, the state subsidizes their charitable activity and
the maintenance of religious buildings of historic value.
In the middle tier, there are religious organizations that operate on the
basis of legal acts governing the relation between the Polish state and a given
church or religious association (MSWiA 2021). Apart from the RCC, whose
activity is also regulated by the Concordat, 14 religious organizations operate
under this regime. With a few exceptions that fall beyond the scope of this
study, they are afforded more rights than churches and religious associations
functioning on the registration basis – for instance, they are authorized to sol-
emnize religious marriages with the legal force of civil (state) marriages; the
exact scope of these rights is delineated for each religious organization indi-
vidually and largely depends on the organization’s historical relationship with
the state. The status of both PAOC and the SDA Church is regulated this way,
by the Act on the Relations between the State and the Polish ­Autocephalous
Orthodox Church of 1991 and the Act on the Relations between the State
and the SDA Church in the Republic of Poland of 1995, respectively. Both
legal acts stipulate that the churches have the right to broadcast their services
(the act on PAOC speaks of “services on Sundays and Orthodox feasts”), as
well as religious-moral and cultural programs, in the public mass media.
 Introduction 13
The UK as a whole composed of four nation-states does not have an estab-
lished church, but England and Scotland do. The Church of England has a
stronger position: its “Supreme Governor” is the British monarch, and there
are 26 seats in the House of Lords reserved for Anglican Bishops. The church
receives subsidies and grants, especially for the maintenance of religious
buildings, but also relies on donations.
In the country where “religious diversity is broader than in most European
countries” (Weller 2018, 94), there is no register of churches and religious
associations similar to the one maintained in Poland, nor are there any legal
acts regulating the relationship between the state and individual churches.
Since the “advancement of religion” was recognized as a charitable purpose
under the Charities Act of 2011, the vast majority of religious organizations
have gained charitable status, and consequently, they have become open to
financial benefit in terms of tax reliefs. The Charity Commission, that is, the
overseeing body accountable to Parliament, mentions 29,000 registered char-
ities that serve religious purposes, 12,000 of which have “religious activity”
registered as their sole purpose (Charity Commission for England and Wales
2014, National Secular Society 2019).8 All churches covered by this study,
namely the SDA Church, the Archdiocese of Thyateira, and the Diocese of
Sourozh, are recognized as charities.

The Seventh-day Adventist Church

The SDA Church is a protestant denomination, whose origins trace back
to the mid-1800s in the US. Emerging from the Millerite movement, the
church had a very strong focus on End Times prophecies. William Miller, an
American Baptist preacher, claimed, on the basis of the prophecy in the Book
of Daniel, that the world will end in 1844 (London 2010, 15). Many of his
followers, disappointed with the misinterpretation of the prophecy, separated
from the Baptist community and formed a new congregation in 1863, in ­Battle
Creek, Michigan – the SDA Church. Among their most famous founders
were Ellen G. White (who later became the church’s main prophetess), Joseph
Bates, and James White (husband of Ellen G. White). The Adventist Church
shares several beliefs with the Baptist Church and other protestant churches,
although it differs in some key tenets. The main teachings of the church
are listed in the 28 Fundamental Beliefs, which were formally accepted by
the General Conference in 1980 (initially, they numbered 27, with another
one – number 11 – added in 2005). What differentiates the SDA Church from
other Protestant denominations is, among others, celebrating Saturday (the
Sabbath) instead of Sunday as the Holy Day. Another characteristic feature of
the SDA Church is its focus on the Second Coming of Christ and end times.
While Christian churches and denominations in general address this issue,
in the Adventist Church, there is a particularly strong emphasis on the signs
of the times which herald the Second Coming, and on the interpretation of
14 Introduction
prophecies, particularly from the Book of Daniel. However, there are no
encouragements for the followers to name specific dates of key end times
events – on the contrary, such attempts are typically met with criticism from
the church authorities. The SDA Church also teaches the infallibility and the
literal interpretation of the Bible, whose consequences include the support of
creationism and intelligent design.
Another feature of the church is the belief in the Great Controversy: the
conf lict between God and Satan, of which humankind is also part until the
end times (Seventh-day Adventist Church n.d.). What the SDA Church is
perhaps best known globally for its health ministry – one of the Fundamental
Beliefs (Christian Behavior) points to the body being God’s temple, which
requires being treated with respect and proper care (Seventh-day Adventist
Church n.d.). This includes exercise, a healthy plant-based diet, and main-
taining good relationships for mental health (Kent 2017). The church actively
promotes a healthy lifestyle and has been the creator and propagator of sev-
eral anti-nicotine programs.9 In some countries, like Poland in the 1980s,
the A ­ dventist anti-smoking plans were adopted by nationwide healthcare
providers.
The church also strongly opposes the state favoring any denomination
and supports state-church separation. In many countries, the SDA Church
has dedicated departments that deal with religious freedom and freedom
of conscience. Their work, as in Poland’s Secretariat for Public Affairs and
­Religious Freedom, focuses on legal matters but also partially on communi-
cations, which is a duty shared by the Communications and Media Secretar-
iat. In the UK, the Religious Liberty Department fulfills similar functions
and ­additionally engages in cooperation with various religious liberty asso-
ciations around the world. This shows that for the SDA Church, religious
freedom is an issue of vital importance, and the church has often voiced its
contempt for any perceived attempts at limiting this freedom for citizens.
Globally, the church membership is approx. 22 million (Seventh-day
­Adventist Church 2021, 9). In the UK, there are approx. 40,000 Adventists,
and in Poland – approx. 6,000. Together, along with 12 other regions, they
comprise the Trans-European Division. Each region within the D ­ ivision
is called a Union Conference, an administrative unit of the church. All
world Divisions (16 of them) are part of the General Conference (the cur-
rent ­President is pastor Ted Wilson), which is the ultimate authority and the
­supreme administrative unit. The President of the British Union Conference
is pastor Eglan Brooks, and pastor Ryszard Jankowski leads the Polish Union
Conference (as of September 2022).

Poland
The origins of the SDA Church in Poland can be traced back to 1888, when
the first Adventist congregation was established in Żarnówek, then part
of the Russian partition. The next congregations were established in 1895
 Introduction 15
in Łódź, then Poznań. The Warsaw church, which is now the Adventist
­headquarters in Poland, was founded in 1900 (Łyko 1988, 53). According to
Adventist sources, the establishment of the Adventist Church in ­Poland was
an ­indirect inf luence of Michał Belina-Czechowski’s missionary activities
­­
– the ­Polish pastor who converted in the US, was a propagator of Advent-
ism in Europe, and an informal missionary, whose inf luence led to the
establishment of SDA Churches in Italy and Switzerland. Soon after the
establishment of major congregations, the Polish church began its media
productions. In the first decade of the 1900s, the two Polish Adventist
magazines, namely Znaki Czasu [Signs of the Times], and Sługa Zboru [The
Servitor of the Congregation] later ­renamed to Głos Adwentu [The Voice of
advent], were established.
Until 1918, when Poland regained its independence after the partitions10
and World War I, the church’s status varied depending on the area it operated
in. One of the largest Adventist communities was located in Silesia, where in
1920 the first diocese (i.e., the regional administrative unit) was established.
The organization did not receive formal recognition as a church until 1946,
but it was tolerated by the state. The Second World War brought significant
losses to the church: concerning both followers, who died during the war and
the Nazi occupation, and the church-owned buildings, which were ­destroyed
during bombings. All media activity had to be suspended, and ­Adventist
­education discontinued, but religious services did take place wherever possi-
ble. After the war, the structures and organization of the church were slowly
rebuilt, and in 1946, the SDA Church was officially recognized by the Polish
state. In 1961, the church adopted its official name as The SDA Church in
the Republic of Poland (Łyko 1988, 63). During the Polish ­People’s Repub-
lic, the church’s activities and freedoms were limited to a varying degree,
­depending on the current political climate. It should be added that especially
in the late 1970s, the SDA Church was used by the ruling communist party
to undermine the position of the Roman Catholic Church, which manifested
itself for instance through infiltration and government-inspired provocations
(Biełaszko et al. 2007). These actions resulted in long-standing conf licts and
animosities between the Adventist and Roman Catholic communities in
­Poland, which was also something that the Adventist interviewees brought
up on several occasions.
After the fall of communism in 1989, when churches and religious organ-
izations gained access to the media and were free to operate in Poland, the
SDA Church made efforts to regulate its relationship with the state under
new political circumstances. The regulation became a fact in 1995 in the
form of the Act on the Relations between the State and the SDA Church in
the Republic of Poland. The SDA Church is entitled to access public media
(and it does, in the form of participating in a 10-minute show every few
weeks on the national Polish Radio Channel 1 titled Churches in Poland and
abroad. dedicated to various religious minorities), but it has no access to pub-
lic television, which makes it reliant on its own resources in terms of media
16 Introduction
production and broadcasting. Despite this relatively stable situation (which
does not entail that all the provisions of the Act have been fulfilled), the
church raises concerns about religious freedom in Poland, especially in con-
nection to the dominant role of the RCC. Those concerns pertain to ­various
laws, like the 2018 Sunday trade ban, the Sejm’s rejection of commemorating
the 500th anniversary of the Reformation in 2017, or, most recently, the
COVID-19 restrictions on churches and religious gatherings, which favored
churches with large buildings.

The UK
The first significant Adventist presence in the UK was noted approx. eight
years earlier than in Poland, in 1880, when William Ings, later joined by John
Lougborough, established an Adventist missionary community in Southamp-
ton after returning from the US. The first Adventist Church was organ-
ized there in 1883 (The Messenger 1974). Later on, the organization spread
throughout the British Isles, establishing the first Adventist communities in
Ireland, Scotland, and Wales in the 1890s. The first meeting of the British
church, equivalent to the British Union Conference session, took place in
1902, during which the division of the British organization was established,
comprising North England, South England Conferences, and the Missions of
Wales, Ireland, and Scotland. It must be mentioned that the establishment of
church journals as the first officially recognized media took place within a
few years after the creation of the SDA congregations in both Poland and the
UK, indicating that even in its early days the church was eager to produce its
own media in the new contexts.
The church’s British headquarters in Watford were officially opened in
1907, with the printing house, educational, and health facilities completed in
the following years. Until 1923, the British Union Conference also organized
missions to its colonies in Africa and was responsible for the Adventist organ-
ization there, but after 1923, this responsibility was bestowed upon the larger
European Division (comprising nine churches; The Messenger 1974, 15).
According to British SDA sources, during World War I, the church con-
tinued its operations without greater disturbances as an organization. How-
ever, the conscription in 1916 was one of the most serious clashes between
the church and the state: since Adventists are against bearing arms and
­using lethal weapons, the church’s request was to conscribe its male mem-
bers to Non-Combatant Corps and to allow them to keep the Sabbath (The
­Messenger 1974). While this request was respected “on paper,” in practice,
Adventist recruits were treated like non-Adventist soldiers, and their denial
to bear arms or perform duties on Saturdays often resulted in punishments,
imprisonments, or physical abuse. While the same applied to Poland as well,
it was the British church which brought such issues to light much more ­often
than the Polish one. However, it must be remembered that Poland dur-
ing World War I was in fact divided between Russia, Austria, and Prussia
 Introduction 17
(following the Third Partition in 1795). Therefore, the probable conf licts
between Adventist citizens and the countries did not pertain to the Polish
state as such.
In the years following the end of World War I, the SDA Church expe-
rienced dynamic growth, and larger donations enabled the organization
to ­expand its facilities and erect new ones, including the congregations in
­London and other major cities throughout the UK. When at the outbreak of
World War II in 1939, conscriptions to the British Army were reintroduced,
the churchgoers once again faced difficulties in reconciling their roles as
­Adventists and citizens of the UK, but Adventist records state that conscrip-
tion to Non-Combatant Corps was easier than during World War II (The
Messenger 1974). However, the church suffered several losses in their faithful.
In London, several Adventist buildings were bombed. After the war, how-
ever, the church began rebuilding its structures throughout the UK.
It must also be added that Adventist presence in the British colonies,
­especially in Africa, India, and the West Indies, is a profound, and yet under-­
researched issue. Since there is not enough space to address it here, it should
be mentioned that according to various Adventist sources, the church mis-
sionaries played different roles in the colonies and the process of gaining
independence. Some pastors supported emancipatory efforts, but others
­
openly criticized them and encouraged the followers to support the coloni-
alist status quo instead (Sang and Nyangwencha 2021). Missionary work in
the colonies, along with the political engagement of the pastors in colonial
churches, has likely affected migration to the UK and the ethnic composition
of the church today.
Unlike the SDA Church in Poland, the British church is predominantly
a migrant one. According to Adventist sources, there were several processes
which led to this. First of all, migration from the British colonies on a larger
scale began after World War II, when soldiers from the West Indies serving
in the British Armed Forces emigrated to the UK, whose economy offered
better prospects than their homeland (The Messenger 1974). In 1952, the
US Congress passed the McCarran-Walter Act, which gave the West Indies
its own migration quota – for instance, Jamaica was allowed 100 entrants
to the US annually – which drastically limited emigration possibilities for
many West Indians who chose to go to the UK instead. Soon, many ur-
ban churches were dominated by West Indian members, and new migrant-­
majority ­congregations were established: this trend continues until this day,
with new migrants from other regions of the world comprising an increasing
percentage of the membership. What this entails is that some services in the
local congregations are until this day held in native languages.
In the UK, the British Union Conference is a registered charity, and all
the local Conferences and Missions, along with Adventist schools and organ-
izations like ADRA, are registered as separate charities as well. The church’s
media freedom is guaranteed by national laws, but there is no designated
Act of law or ruling which would specifically regulate the Adventist status
18 Introduction
vis-à-vis the British state, such as that in Poland. The UK church o
­ ccasionally
does raise concerns over various issues pertaining to religious freedom, as
in the case of out-of-school education settings and the British Counter-­
extremism and Safeguarding Bill (see Chapter 6).

The Orthodox Churches

The Orthodox Church(es) is a term used to describe the family of Christian
churches that stress the continuity with initial organizational structures of
the Christian Church, and follow the tradition of Eastern Christianity, devel-
oped independently of Western (Roman) Christianity after the Great Schism
of 1054 (McGuckin 2020). Since the Middle Ages, the Orthodox Church
has significantly broadened its infrastructure in South-Eastern and E ­ astern
Europe. It evolved into the system of autokephalie – particular churches
were independent from each other. This is the reason for using the term
Orthodox Churches in plural to highlight the existence of different church
units/­jurisdictions. Since 2019, there are 15 Orthodox Churches worldwide,
including the ancient Church of Cyprus (founded in 431) and the Church
of Georgia (founded in 487), as well as the Orthodox Church of Ukraine
(founded in December 2018).
Nowadays, there are approximately 260 million Orthodox Christians
worldwide, which makes 12% of the entire Christian population (Pew
­Research Center 2017). Russia is the country with the highest number of
­Orthodox Christians reaching above 100 million. There are, as was men-
tioned earlier, other countries in South-Eastern Europe, where Orthodox
believers make up the majority of the populations (Bulgaria, Romania,
­
­Serbia). The fastest growing Orthodox community nowadays is in Ethio-
pia, and it is estimated at 36 million followers (Pew Research Center 2017).
There are also Orthodox communities in Western and Northern Europe,
which ­comprise Orthodox migrants of the second or third generations, but
also converts (cf. Hämmerli and Mayer 2014). For the purposes of this book,
three Orthodox Churches were analyzed: one in Poland and two in the UK.
All of them are part of the family of the so-called Orthodox Churches of
the Byzantine tradition – the main branch of Orthodox Christianity. They
are unified in faith, which means that there are no theological disparities
­between them. On the other hand, there are significant differences in history,
structure, and the settings they operate in.

Poland
Polski Autokefaliczny Kościół Prawosławny (Polish Autocephalous Ortho-
dox Church – PAOC) is the largest minority church in Poland. Never-
theless, it comprises only 1.3% of the Polish population, which accounts
for approx. 504,000 people (GUS 2021, 119). The PAOC was officially
founded in 1924, but according to Orthodox sources, the history of
 Introduction 19
Christian Orthodoxy in Poland goes back to the 10th century. Some histo-
rians even date the presence of Orthodoxy in Southern Poland back to the
9th century (Mironowicz 2017) and connect it with the missionary activity
of the disciples of Saints Cyril and Methodius. In the course of the centu-
ries and the territorial development of the Polish state to the east, Christian
Orthodoxy has gained importance and the number of Christian Orthodox
faithful grew substantially. Polish kings Stephen Báthory and Sigismund
III supported the Pope in his efforts to control Orthodox Christians in
the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. This eventually led to the Union
of Brest (1596) – a treaty signed by the Orthodox bishops, who agreed to
enter into a union with the Roman Catholic Church. The bishops agreed
to accept the Pope as their spiritual leader and the head of their Church, but
gained the right to celebrate liturgy according to their eastern tradition. In
this way, a new church – the Uniate Church – came into existence and the
Orthodox Church almost entirely lost its infrastructure.
The overall situation of the Unite Church deteriorated following the
­partitions of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. The Unite clergy and
faithful in the territories of the Commonwealth that became part of the
­Russian Empire lost the support of the state and came under the inf luence
of the Moscow Patriarchate, itself supported by the tsars. The consecutive
Russian Emperors limited the rights of the Unites and supported the R­ ussian
Orthodox Church by issuing favoring laws and founding new Orthodox
parishes and church buildings. The most significant case was the Alexander
Nevsky Cathedral in Warsaw – a gigantic Orthodox Church built in one of
the central points of Warsaw between 1894 and 1912. The centuries-long
support of the Russian tsars is one of the reasons behind the contemporary
stigma of the Orthodox Church in Poland as being „Russian,” which is an
issue the PAOC has to deal with up to present days.
Another crucial date for the PAOC is the already mentioned year 1924. The
church was founded as an autonomous unit in the aftermath of the Polish-­
Soviet war of 1918–1921. The war was won by the Second Polish Republic
and the Polish state pressed the Church authorities to cut ties with Moscow.
As a result, Orthodox dioceses within the Polish state announced their inde-
pendence from the Moscow Patriarchate – an event that was confirmed by
the Ecumenical Patriarchate, which granted the church autocephaly, and by
other Orthodox Churches. The PAOC became the 12th independent Ortho-
dox Church worldwide, which means it can appoint bishops and freely decide
on organizational matters. The newly founded PAOC became a tool of the
Polish state for controlling the Ukrainian and Belarusian minorities, which
led to several conf licts between the state, the Roman Catholic Church, and
the Orthodox believers. According to the 1931 census, there were 3.8 million
Orthodox believers in Poland, which amounted to 11.8% of total population
(Wynot 2009, 121). When World War II broke out, some Polish officers were
afraid of giving weapons to Ukrainian and Byelorussian volunteers in the
Polish army, which shows the mistrust toward Orthodox believers.
20 Introduction
During World War II, the PAOC became a device in the hands of German
occupiers, who used the church to control the minorities. Hans Frank, the
head of the occupation regime, forcefully changed the leader of the PAOC
and coerced him to cooperate (Wynot 2009, 123). This time, the PAOC
was used to strengthen the Third Reich’s interests in today’s Ukraine and
­Belarus against the Soviet Union. When the Third Reich was defeated,
bishop ­Dionizy, who had been appointed by the Nazis, was imprisoned for
collaborating with the occupiers. After World War II, when the borders of
the P ­ olish state moved to the west, the number of Orthodox faithful (tradi-
tionally ­inhabiting the eastern territories) rapidly decreased. Lacking clergy
and the support of the state, the PAOC sought contacts with the Moscow
­Patriarchate. In 1948, the church resigned from the autocephaly it had ­received
from Constantinople (in 1924) and accepted autocephaly from Moscow. All
of the primates of the PAOC up to 1998 were personally connected with
the Russian Orthodox Church by being priests or monks ordained in the
Soviet Union or being ethnic Russians (bishop Jerzy Korenistov), Ukrain-
ians (bishop Stefan Rudyk), or Belarussians (bishop Bazyli Doroszkiewicz)
(Wynot 2009). During the time of the Polish People’s Republic, some of
the high-ranking bishops of the PAOC were reported to cooperate with the
Secret Service of the communist regime, and bishop Makary (Oksijuk) was
allegedly a KGB agent (Wynot 2009).
After the fall of the communist regime, in 1991, the PAOC status in P ­ oland
was regulated by the Act on the Relations between the state and the Pol-
ish Autocephalous Orthodox Church. Although the legal status of the church
has been clarified, the PAOC raises concerns relating to relations with the
­Polish authorities, especially with regard to the return of property taken by the
­authorities of the Polish People’s Republic. Another concerns the ­inequality of
religions in Poland. One example is the case from 2014 when the transmission
from the Orthodox Annunciation Feast on public television was terminated.
This led to accusations of discrimination (Dudra 2019, 833). Nevertheless, the
PAOC retains good relations with the Polish authorities, and the Orthodox
hierarchies are usually invited to the most important state events.

The UK
The Archdiocese of Thyateira and Great Britain is, unlike the PAOC, not an
autonomous Church unit. It is part of the Ecumenical Patriarchate and the
bishops are appointed by the Patriarch in Constantinople. This means that
migrants from Greece who came to the British Isles change the jurisdiction
from the Archbishopric of Athens to the Ecumenical Patriarchate. These are
two separate Orthodox Churches of Greek origin, the latter being responsi-
ble for the Greek Orthodox outside of continental Greece.
The Archdiocese of Thyateira was founded in 1922 after the Greek-­
Turkish war, which forced thousands of Greeks to leave Asia Minor to seek
a new home. The name Thyateira was taken from the city in Asia Minor,
 Introduction 21
which was a bishops’ seat in ancient times, reintroduced in the new home for
many refugees. The initiative for the new diocese was taken by the Ecumen-
ical ­Patriarch Meletios Metaxakis and the first bishop’s task was to organize
the life of the diocese. Archbishop Germanos also guided the archdiocese
through the difficult period of World War II. In 1969, the archdiocese’s legal
status was clarified – it was recognized as a charity organization, which solid-
ified the church as a recognized body and helped it operate in the UK legal
system. This happened to be especially significant in 1974, when the Turkish
Army invaded Cyprus, which led to a great wave of Cypriot migrants to
the UK. The parishioners of the archdiocese helped accommodate the ref-
ugees and the parishes grew in numbers substantially. The development of
the Greek Schools network was the focus of the next two bishops, especially
archbishop Gregorios, who led the archdiocese for over 30 years until 2019
(The Church Times 2019).
Since 2019, the church is headed by archbishop Nikitas – an American of
Greek descent. He is the sixth bishop of the Archdiocese of Thyateira. Like
his predecessors, he leads the ethnically diverse diocese, comprising mostly
Greek and Cypriot migrants to the UK (and the next generations), with some
ethnic English members (including bishop Kallistos Ware), ­ Romanians,
Ukrainians, and – according to the Orthodox interviewees – even migrants
from India. Its headquarters is based in London, Craven Hill. There are
over 100 parishes of the Archdiocese of Thyateira, and they are scattered all
around Great Britain and Ireland. They are usually very small, comprising
between a few and a couple dozen faithful with one priest serving in several
parishes. It is noteworthy that the Church rents buildings for services from
other Christian communities (typically Anglican or Catholic congregations).
The archdiocese puts special emphasis on teaching the Greek language and
culture and thus runs several Greek schools around the country. This focus
on Greek culture collides with the fact that some of the faithful are not ethnic
Greeks or Cypriots, which makes the pastoral and educational work of the
archdiocese particularly sensitive (Ioannou, Skellariou and Kemp 2020). This
is also true for the religious services themselves: they are usually held in two
languages (Greek and English), but sometimes prayers in different languages
(Romanian) are recited, or one or the other language prevails, depending on
the composition of the community (Shrewsbury Greek ­Orthodox Church
2022).
The Russian Orthodox Diocese of Sourozh is a diocese of the Moscow
Patriarchate hence – similar to the Thyateira Archdiocese – it is not an inde-
pendent unit. The head of the Sourozh Diocese is bishop Matthew (since the
end of 2017). The Diocese of Sourozh has over 80 parishes in the UK and
Ireland, and its headquarters are located in London (Ennismore Gardens).
Just like in the case of the Thyateira Archdiocese, the ethnic composition of
the faithful is very diverse: It comprises mostly Russians, but there is a sig-
nificant number of English people, people from the Baltic states, Ukrainians,
and Belarusians. The services are traditionally celebrated in Church Slavonic,
22 Introduction
but there are parishes where English is an important language of celebration
(e.g., The Parish of St Nicholas the Wonderworker in Oxford). The diocese
supports activities connected to Russian culture, like festivals, language con-
tests for school children, and concerts of Russian music. At the same time, it
stresses the connection to British culture.
The diocese was officially founded in 1962, but according to Orthodox
sources, the history of the Russian Orthodox Church in London dates back
to 1716, when the Tsar Peter the Great founded a church by the Russian
­embassy. The church was used not only by Russians but also Greeks living in
London, who in fact became the main group in the parish shortly thereafter.
Over the centuries, the parish was mixed ethnically and remained so up to
now, even if the Greeks founded their own diocese in the meantime.
Anthony Bloom became the first bishop of the newly founded diocese
and created fundamentals for the future work of the entire diocese. When
he first took up the post, the diocese was extremely small, but he intro-
duced the English language to the services, which increased the interest of
the ­English-speaking members of the community. In 1979, the diocese was
recognized as a charity organization and retains this status up to now.
The collapse of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s appears to be crucial in
the modern development of the Sourozh Diocese. First, a wave of migrants
from Russia came to the UK. They changed the structure of the diocese,
since until the 1990s, most of the parishioners were English speaking (Sarni
2012, 67). From the 1990s, the parishes were made up of migrants from
­Eastern Europe and the Russian language regained its importance. Second,
the Sourozh Diocese acquired better relations with the diocese of the ­Russian
Orthodox Church Outside Russia (ROCOR). This church unit was founded
as a worldwide church after the Moscow Patriarchate came under Soviet rule
at the beginning of the 1920s. The Russian bishops outside – then ­Soviet –
Russia did not want to cooperate with the Moscow Patriarchate under Soviet
inf luence. This break-up in relations lasted until 2007, when the ­ROCOR
became part of the Moscow Patriarchate, but remained autonomous in
­organizational matters. In the case of the UK, both churches work separately.
After Romania and Bulgaria joined the EU in 2007, the parishes of the
Sourozh Diocese have become even more ethnically diverse. The ­Romanians
and Bulgarians comprise a significant minority in its parishes in the Sourozh
Diocese. Russian and English languages are widely used as the main languages.

Book structure
As was mentioned in the beginning, one of the key aims of the research is to
compare how such different churches, operating in varied national contexts,
with their own distinct histories, theology, and relationships with the state
and the general population, use their media to position themselves vis-à-vis
the national and religious contexts. The different aspects and dimensions of
this process will be described in six chapters.
 Introduction 23
In Chapter 1, the media settlers concept is presented in depth and contex-
tualized within the social-constructivist and actor-centered approaches in
mediatization studies, followed by a discussion on the theoretical background
constituting the key elements of the concept. One of the first sections of
the chapter opens with a distinction between media-centered and actor-­
centered concepts of mediatization, followed by an elaboration on the latter,
along with the sister concept of deep mediatization (Hepp 2020). Then, the
main points of the media settlers concept are presented in detail, with critical
­appraisal of other theories and concepts such as the religious social shaping
of technology, media pioneers, mediatized religious authority, and commu-
nity. Chapter 1 points out that the churches make use of their media ensem-
bles by implementing particular media practices which can be understood
as strategies: acknowledgment, authorization of media, omission, replication
of formats and content, and mass-mediatization of digital media. Since in
the research project at the foundation of this book, there were two primary
levels of analysis, namely media practices and media narratives, both will be
referred to in the chapters that follow.
Chapter 2 argues that through their media practices, the analyzed
­organizations adapt to the trends of deep mediatization. In this chapter,
the ­acknowledgment and authorization strategies are elaborated on, as
­enabling the churches to be in line with the deep mediatization trends.
The chapter argues that church media ensembles are intentionally devel-
oped with consideration of the country-specific contexts, the structures of
authority within their organization, and of the churches’ own understand-
ing of the role of the media. It also stresses that by integrating digital and
classical print and mass media, the churches want to assert their relevance
and authority both ­externally and internally and want to be heard as part
of society.
The analyses of the media practices continue in Chapter 3, which shows
how the churches as media settlers negotiate the trends of deep mediatization
in the processes of omission of media formats, replication of media ­formats
and content, and the mass-mediatization of digital media. It is discussed
how these practices enable the churches to control the narrative, position
­themselves as keepers of certain values, knowledge, and traditions, and to
present themselves to the general public as religious and historical entities.
Simultaneously, these practices do not allow the churches to make the most
of the participatory affordances of the digital media and instead maintain the
traditional divisions between the roles of content producers and consumers.
The chapter also demonstrates that by implementing these media practices,
the churches mitigate such consequences of deep mediatization as contin-
gency and optionality of use, and react to the perceived marginalization of
their religious message in mainstream media and secular society. Therefore,
both Chapters 2 and 3 argue that the five media practices can in fact be
­understood as strategies, i.e. actions deployed with the aim of maintaining
the authority and unity of the congregations.
24 Introduction
The goal of Chapter 4 is to show how the aims of maintaining author-
ity and unity of the community, identified on the level of media practices,
are also visible in the media and interview narratives. The chapter analyzes
the various depictions of authority in the churches, from pastors and priests,
to martyrs and saints, to the organizational one, and argues that by root-
ing authority in the Bible (the SDA Church) or in Tradition (the Orthodox
Churches), the narratives affirm its status. In doing so, the narratives posi-
tion the churches as credible and trustworthy and unify the followers around
the authority. The chapter also discusses how the engagement in their local
communities, as well as diversity and inclusivity, is presented in the media to
evoke pride and foster a sense of unity among the followers.
The media narratives are further discussed in Chapter 5, but with a focus
on how the churches assert their authority and expand their organization
by referring to the wider societies. It is demonstrated how the Orthodox
and Adventist Churches present themselves in their media as depositaries of
(sacred) traditions or values and knowledge, how they position themselves as
part of the national cultures, and how they stress their legitimacy and positive
contributions to society and culture. Therefore, the churches highlight their
continuous relevance and importance for modern societies. As such, as the
chapter demonstrates, the media narratives also defy any perceived attempts
to minoritize and marginalize the churches.
In the last empirical chapter, the narrative level will once again be the
focal point. Chapter 6 analyzes how the Orthodox and Adventist Churches
negotiate the power dynamics in society and dominant discourses which they
identify as “wrong.” It argues that since differentiation typically involves a
form of “us vs them” division, it unifies the believers against whoever and
whatever is understood as “them,” (for instance, secularization in the UK or
the Roman Catholic Church in Poland) and enables the churches to construct
a positive self-image on this basis. By presenting themselves as guardians of
faith, truth, and morality, they also depict themselves as organizations loyal
to the original Christianity. It is concluded that the analyzed themes are part
of the churches’ organizational sensemaking and are connected with other
media and interview narratives described in earlier chapters.
In the Conclusion, the key findings are summarized. This closing chapter
highlights the advantages of including both the media practices and narra-
tives in studies of the use of media by religious organizations. Apart from
showing how the concept of media settlers, focused on the media ensembles
and corporate actors, adds to scholarly debates on religion in times of deep
mediatization, the Conclusion suggests its applicability to religious organiza-
tions other than the Orthodox and the SDA Churches, as well as its possible
adaptability to secular organizational settings.

Notes
1 Communicative practices are fundamental to human meaning-making and the
construction of social reality. They involve the use of signs, but also the body
 Introduction 25
and objects. According to Hepp et al., all social practices are communicative
practices, and those, in turn, in times of deep mediatization become increasingly
media practices as well (Hepp, Breiter and Hasebrink 2018, 27).
2 Data for Northern Ireland (NI) and Scotland is gathered from Irish and S­ cottish
statistical agencies. In NI, according to the 2021 census data, approx. 3.4% of
the population belonged to a minority group, with “mixed ethnicities” ­being
the largest among them (0.8%) (NISRA 2022). In Scotland, approx. 96% is
white, while the largest ethnic minority is Asian, approx. 3% (Audit Scotland
2019).
3 As a result of the Russian aggression on Ukraine in February 2022, this number
has grown significantly, and it is estimated to have reached approx. 3 million ref-
ugees during the first months. However, some research indicates that after April
2022, the number of Ukrainian refugees was closer to 1.5 million (Duszczyk and
Kaczmarczyk 2022, 6). Since the research period in our project was 2016–2018,
this development was not accounted for.
4 This data is provided to the Polish Office of Statistics by the churches themselves
– which may not ref lect the accurate numbers of followers.
5 The British Union Conference has also published its own strategic plan for
2023–2025, which implements the global strategic plan, but also adapts it to the
British context (BUC 2022).
6 Both countries reacted to this situation differently: while the UK has pledged to
take in 20,000 Syrian refugees within five years (Multifaith Alliance for Syrian
Refugees 2018), Poland (along with Hungary) refused to comply with the “tem-
porary emergency relocation scheme” agreed on by the European Union, which
referred to the transfer of persons in need of international protection from one
EU Member State to another.
7 This date coincided with the first months of the COVID-19 pandemic in the
UK and Poland. This event upended the original schedule, but also affected the
­interview format (all interviews had to be conducted remotely), and the ques-
tions themselves (since we felt that it was impossible to avoid the topic). The
research was not designed to include the context of the pandemic and the sub-
sequent organizational changes in the churches, but interview excerpts which
include references to the pandemic will appear throughout this book.
8 The number of religion-related charities in the UK cannot be compared to the
number of churches and religious associations recognized by the Polish state
­because in the UK, it happens that various units of one religious organization are
registered separately. For instance, the register of charities includes the Russian
Orthodox Diocese of Sourozh, the Orthodox Parish of St Nicolas the Wonder-
worker in London of the Diocese of Sourozh, and the Metropolitan Anthony of
Sourozh Foundation.
9 These include the “The Five-Day Plan to Stop Smoking,” created by J. W.
McFarland and E. J. Folkenberg in the 1960s. It has since then been renamed
to “Breathe-Free 2 Stop Smoking,” but it is still organized by the Church
worldwide.
10 The three partitions (territorial annexations) of the Polish-Lithuanian Common-
wealth by the Russian Empire, Prussia, and Austria took place at the end of the
18th century and eliminated the sovereign states of Poland and Lithuania for 123
years.

References
Accenture, 2021. Poland News Media Landscape Trends December 2021. Available at
https://newsmedia-analysis.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/Google-News-
Poland-English-22-June-2022.pdf, accessed 26 October 2022.
26 Introduction
Adventist Mission, 2022. I Will Go Strategic Focus 2020–2025. Available at
https://iwillgo2020.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/IWG_A4_English.pdf,
accessed 26 October 2022.
Audit Scotland, 2019. Annual diversity report 2018/19. Available at https://www.­
audit-scotland.gov.uk/uploads/docs/report/2019/as_diversity_1819.pdf, accessed
26 October 2022.
Benson, V., Hand, C. and Hartshorne, R., 2019. How compulsive use of social media
affects performance: Insights from the UK by purpose of use. Behaviour & Informa-
tion Technology, 38(6), 549–563. https://doi.org/10.1080/0144929X.2018.1539518
Biełaszko, M., Piekarska, A. K., Tomasik, P. and Wilanowski, C., eds., 2007. Plany
pracy Departamentu IV MSW na lata 1972–1979. Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci
Narodowej.
Bleich, E., Bloemraad, I. and de Graauw, E., 2015. Migrants, Minorities and the
Media: Information, Representations and Participation in the Public Sphere.
­Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, 41(6), 857–873. https://doi.org./10.1080/136
9183X.2014.1002197
Bleich, E., Stonebraker, N. H. and Abdelhamid, E., 2015. Media Portayals of
M inorities: Muslims in British Newspaper Headlines, 2001–2012. Journal of
­
Ethnic and ­ Migration Studies, 41(6), 942–962. https://doi.org./10.1080/13691
83X.2014.1002200
British Union Conference (BUC), 2022. British Union Conference Executive Votes New
Strategic Plan. [press release] 29 September 2022. Available at https://­adventist.uk/
news/article/go/2022-09-29/british-union-conference- ­executive-votes-new-
strategic-plan/, accessed 26 October 2022.
Campbell, H. A., 2010. When Religion Meets New Media. London: Routledge. https://
doi.org/10.4324/9780203695371
Campbell, H. A., 2021. Digital Creatives and the Rethinking of Religious Authority.
­London: Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003045625
Centrum Badania Opinii Społecznej (CBOS), 2020. Religijność Polaków w ostatnich 20
latach. Warszawa: Fundacja Centrum Badania Opinii Społeczne. Available at https://
cbos.pl/SPISKOM.POL/2020/K_063_20.PDF, accessed 26 October 2022.
Charity Commission for England and Wales, 2014. Excepted charities. Available at
https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/excepted-charities/­e xcepted-
charities--2#church-charities, accessed 26 October 2022.
Communications Act, 2003. Communications Act 2003, 2003 Chapter 21. Available at
https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/2003/21, accessed 26 October 2022.
Duszczyk, M. and Kaczmarczyk, P., 2022. War and Migration: The Recent Influx
from Ukraine into Poland and Possible Scenarios for the Future. Warsaw: Center of
Migration Research. Available at https://www.migracje.uw.edu.pl/wp-content/­
uploads/2022/04/Spotlight-APRIL-2022.pdf, accessed 26 October 2022.
Dudra, S., 2019. Polski Autokefaliczny Kościół Prawosławny w obszarze polityki wyznaniowej
oraz polityki narodowościowej Polski Ludowej i III Rzeczypospolitej. Warszawa: Scholar.
Fairclough, N., 1992. Discourse and Social Change. Cambridge: Polity. https://doi.
org/10.1017/S0047404500017309
Flick, U., 1997. The episodic interview. Small scale narratives as approach to relevant
experiences. LSE Methodology Institute Discussion Papers - Qualitative Series.
Francis, M. and Knott, K., eds., 2020. Minority Religions and Uncertainty. London,
New York: Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315595542
 Introduction 27
Główny Urząd Statystyczny (GUS), 2015. Struktura narodowo-etniczna, językowa i
wyznaniowa ludności Polski. Narodowy Spis Powszechny Ludności i Mieszkań 2011.
Available at https://stat.gov.pl/files/gfx/portalinformacyjny/pl/defaultaktual
nosci/5670/22/1/1/struktura_narodowo-etniczna.pdf, accessed 26 October 2022.
Główny Urząd Statystyczny (GUS), 2021. Mały Rocznik Statystyczny/ Concise Statisti-
cal Yearbook of Poland 2021. Warszawa: GUS.
Instytut Statystyki Kościoła Katolickiego (ISKK), 2021. Annuarium Statisticum Eccle-
siae In Polonia. Warszawa: ISKK.
Hämmerli, M. and Mayer, J. F., eds., 2014. Orthodox Identities in Western ­Europe:
Migration, Settlement and Innovation. Farnham: Ashgate. https://doi.org/10.4324/
9781315599144
Hepp, A., 2014. Communicative Figurations: Researching Cultures of Mediati-
zation. Zeszyty Prasoznawcze, 2(218), 145–161. https://doi.org/10.4467/2299-
6362PZ.14.007.2328
Hepp, A., 2016. Pioneer Communities: Collective Actors in Deep Mediatization.
­Media, Culture & Society, 38(6), 918–933. https://doi.org/10.1177/0163443716664484
Hepp, A., 2020. Deep Mediatization. London: Routledge. https://doi.org/
10.4324/9781351064903
Hepp, A. and “Communicative Figurations” Research Network, 2017. Transform-
ing Communications: Media-related Changes in Times of Deep Mediatization.
Communicative Figurations Working Paper Series 16. Available through State and
­University Library Bremen website https://media.suub.uni-bremen.de, accessed
17 July 2021.
Hepp, A. and Hasebrink, U., 2018. Researching Transforming Communications in
Times of Deep Mediatization: A Figurational Approach. In: Hepp, A., Breiter,
A., and Hasebrink, U., eds. Communicative Figurations: Transforming Communications
in Times of Deep Mediatization. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 15–48. https://doi.
org/10.1007/978-3-319-65584-0_2
Hepp, A, Breiter, A. and Hasebrink, U., eds., 2018. Communicative Figurations: Trans-
forming Communications in Times of Deep Mediatization. London: Palgrave Macmil-
lan. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-65584-0
Hoover, S. M., ed., 2016. The Media and Religious Authority. University Park, PA:
Penn State University Press. https://doi.org/10.5325/j.ctv14gp1zt.
Huber, F., 2019. Media, Milieu, and Community – Forms of (Media-based)
­Vergemeinschaftung Within and Beyond the Association of Vineyard Churches.
Online - Heidelberg Journal of Religions on the Internet 14, 131–158. Available at https://
heiup.uni-heidelberg.de/journals/, accessed 26 October 2022.
Ioannou, I., Skellariou, P. and Kemp, T., 2020. Trustees’ Annual Report 2019. Lincoln.
Jaroszewicz, M., 2018. Migration from Ukraine to Poland. The trend stabilises. Warsaw:
Center for Eastern Studies. Available at https://core.ac.uk/, accessed 26 October
2022.
Keller, R., 2013. Doing Discourse Research: An Introduction for Social Scientists. Translation
by B. Jenner. Los Angeles, London: Sage. https://doi.org/10.4135/9781473957640
Kent, L., 2017. The Adventist ‘Health Message’ Unpacked. Ministry: International
Journal for Pastors, 89(3), 12–16.
Krajowa Rada Radiofonii i Telewizji (KRRiT), 2021. Nadawcy społeczni [social broad-
casters]. Available at https://www.gov.pl/web/krrit/nadawcy-spoleczni, accessed
26 October 2022.
28 Introduction
Kundzewicz, Z. W., Painter, J. and Kundzewicz, W. J., 2019. Climate Change in
the Media: Poland’s Exceptionalism, Environmental Communication 13(3), 366–380.
https://doi.org/10.1080/17524032.2017.1394890
Kuś, M., 2019. Public Service Broadcasting and Media Polarization in Poland.
­Jahrbuch für Christliche Sozialwissenschaften, Bd. 60, 53–61. https://doi.org/10.17879/
jcsw-2019-2500
London, S. G., 2010. Seventh-Day Adventists and the Civil Rights ­Movement. Jack-
son: University Press of Mississippi. https://doi.org/10.14325/mississippi/
9781604732726.001.0001
Łyko, Z., 1988. Kościół adwentystów dnia siódmego. Warszawa: Znaki Czasu.
McGuckin, J. A., 2020. The Eastern Orthodox Church: A New History. New Haven,
London: Yale University Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctvxkn7k6
Mironowicz, A., 2017. Chrzest Polski z różnych perspektyw. Przegląd Prawosławny,
(1), 26–29.
Ministerstwo Spraw Wewnętrznych i Administracji (MSWiA), 2021. Kościoły i inne
związki wyznaniowe, których stosunki z Państwem są uregulowane ustawami partyku-
larnymi. Available at https://www.gov.pl/web/mswia/, accessed 26 October 2022.
Ministerstwo Spraw Wewnętrznych i Administracji (MSWiA), 2022. Rejestr kościołów
i innych związków wyznaniowych. Available at https://www.gov.pl/web/mswia/,
­accessed 26 October 2022.
Multifaith Alliance for Syrian Refugees, 2018. The Syrian Refugee Crisis: UK
­Response. Available at https://www.ohchr.org/sites/default/files/Documents/
Issues/­Religion/, accessed 26 October 2022.
National Secular Society, 2019. For the Public Benefit? The Case for Removing
‘The Advancement of Religion’ As A Charitable Purpose. Available at https://
www.secularism.org.uk/uploads/nss-advancement-of-religion-charity-report-­
(electronic).pdf, accessed 26 October 2022.
Office for National Statistics (ONS), 2021a. Population estimates by ethnic group,
England and Wales. Available at https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationand
­
community/ culturalidentity/ethnicity, accessed 26 October 2022.
Office for National Statistics (ONS), 2021b. Population estimates by ethnic group
and religion, England and Wales: 2019. Available at https://www.ons.gov.uk/
peoplepopulationandcommunity/populationandmigration/populationestimates,
accessed 26 October 2022.
Pew Research Center, 2017. Orthodox Christianity in the 21st Century. A ­ vailable
at https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2017/11/08/orthodox-christianity-in-
the-21st-century/, accessed 26 October 2022.
Radde-Antweiler, K., 2019. Religion as Communicative Figurations – Analyzing
Religion in Times of Deep Mediatization. In: Radde-Antweiler, K. and Zeiler,
X., eds. Mediatized Religion in Asia: Studies on Digital Media and Religion. London:
Routledge, 211–223. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315170275-18
Richardson, J. T., 2006. The Sociology of Religious Freedom: A Structural and
Socio-Legal Analysis. Sociology of Religion, 67(3), 271–294. https://doi.org/10.1093/
socrel/67.3.271
Rota, A., 2019. Religion, Media, and Joint Commitment – Jehovah‘s Witnesses as
a ‘Plural Subject’. Online - Heidelberg Journal of Religions on the Internet 14, 79–107.
Sang, G. and Nyangwencha, P. O., 2021. Colonialism and the Seventh-day Advent-
ists in Kenya. Encyclopedia of Seventh-Day Adventists. Available at https://encyclope
dia.adventist.org/, accessed 26 October 2022.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Atticus died, full of years and honors, in the year 32 b.c. If he had
only had the consideration to leave some memoirs for posterity, we
should have much more satisfactory knowledge than is now possible
concerning the relations of Roman authors with their publishers and
with the public during the first century before Christ. We have not
even, however, any of his letters to Cicero, letters which would of
course have had a special interest in making clear the nature of his
publishing arrangements with his authors.
In the year 48 b.c. appeared a work whose vitality has proved
exceptional, and which, thanks to the school-boys, is to-day,
nineteen hundred years after the death of its author, in continued
demand. I refer to Cæsar’s Commentaries on the Gallic Wars. This
book could certainly have been made a magnificent “property” for its
author, but as he was literally intent upon “wanting the earth,” the
ownership of one book was hardly worth any special thought. As a
fact, we have no details whatever of Cæsar’s publishing
arrangements, although we do know that by means of some
distributing machinery copies of the Commentaries speedily reached
the farthest (civilized) corners of the Roman dominion.
Virgil’s Æneid was, we are told, given to the world through Varius
and Tucca, about 18 b.c. The sixth book was read to Augustus and
Livia in 22, the year of the death of Marcellus. The publication of the
Æneid took place at a time when the machinery for the production
and distribution of books was beginning to be adequately organized.
It seems evident that it was only after the institution of the Empire
that the publishers of Rome were in a position to reach with their
editions any wide public outside of Rome and the principal cities of
Italy.
About the year 40 b.c. the poet Horace, then twenty-five years old,
came to Rome with the hope, as he states, of obtaining a living
through literature. His estate at Venusia had been confiscated, owing
to his having borne arms at Philippi on the defeated side, and he
was now dependent upon his own exertions.[179] He found at Rome
a literary circle of growing importance. It was the beginning of the
Augustan age, and literature was the fashion with the court circles of
the new Empire, and therefore with the society leaders who took the
court fashions for their model. Through the kindness of Virgil, the
young poet was introduced to Mæcenas, the wealthy statesman
whose princely patronage of literature has become proverbial.
The liberality of Mæcenas supplied the immediate needs of the
poet, and he appears never to have had an opportunity of finding out
whether, apart from the aid of patronage, he could actually have
supported himself through the sale of his poems. In fact, a little later,
when for a time at least he possesses, through the friendship of
Mæcenas, an assured income he appears to have taken the position
of refusing to permit his books to be sold, and of writing only for the
perusal of his friends.[180]
His first expectancy, however, in regard to the possibilities of a
literary career, give grounds for the belief that at the time of the
beginning of the Empire the publishing machinery of the capital was
already adequately organized, and that the writers whom Horace
found in Rome, including Virgil, Tibullus, Propertius, Varius, Valgius,
and many others, were securing, apart from the gifts of the emperor
or of other patrons of literature, some compensation from the reading
public. On this point, however, Horace has himself given other
evidence, which, if somewhat unsatisfactory concerning the matter of
author’s compensation, is at least clear as to the existence of
machinery for the making and distributing of books, and which also
indicates that his resolution not to offer his books for sale had not
been adhered to. He refers to the brothers Sosii as his publishers,
and complains that while his works brought gold to them, for their
author they earned only fame in distant lands and with posterity.

Hic meret æra liber Sosiis, hic et mare transit,

Et longum noto scriptori prorogat ævum.[181]

A complaint so worded is of course perfectly compatible with the

existence of a publishing arrangement under which Horace was to
receive an author’s share of any profits accruing. Precisely similar
complaints are frequent enough to-day when all new books are
issued under the protection of domestic copyright and under
publishing agreements, and while sometimes an indication that the
publisher has managed to secure more than his share of the
proceeds of literary labor, they are much more frequently simply the
expression of the difference between the author’s large expectations
concerning the public demand for his books and the actual extent of
such demand.
If publishing statistics could be brought into print, they would show
numberless instances in which the author’s calculations concerning
the number of copies of their books which the public “could be
depended upon” to call for, or “must certainly have called for,” were
as much out of the way as have been the estimates of defeated
generals as to the numbers of the forces by which they had been
overwhelmed. It is certainly to be regretted that the brothers Sosii
have not left us some records from which could be gathered their
side of the story of their dealings with the court poet. There are
instances in later times of firms which have found the honor of being
publishers for a poet-laureate bringing more prestige than profit.
The shop of the Sosii was in the Vicus Tuscus, near the entrance to
the temple of Janus. In the first book of Horace’s Epistles we find the
lines:

Vertumnum Janumque, liber, spectare videris,

Scilicet ut prostes Sosiorum pumice mundus.[182]

Horace finds occasion to inveigh against plagiarists as well as

against publishers, and here his indignation is probably better
founded. The literature of Rome was, as before pointed out, based
on a long series of “appropriations” and adaptations from the
Greeks, and the habit, thus early initiated, doubtless became pretty
deeply rooted. Virgil complains:

Hos ego versiculos feci; tulit alter honores,

Sic vos non vobis nidificatis aves.[183]
 Horace writes:[184]

O imitatores, servum pecus ut mihi sæpe,

Bilem, sæpe jocum vestri movere tumultus.

It seems probable that by this stage in the development of

literature, the indignation of an author against plagiarists was not
merely on the ground of interference with literary prestige or of the
wrongfulness of a writer’s securing honor falsely, but because
plagiarism might involve an actual injury to literary property. The first
application to literary theft of the term plagium (from which is derived
the French plagiaire and the English “plagiarism”), was made by
Martial. In the legal terminology of Rome, plagium was used to
designate the crime of man-stealing, and a plagiarius was one who
stole from another a slave or a child, or who undertook to buy or to
sell into slavery one who was legally free. The use of so strong a
term to characterize literary “appropriations” is sufficient evidence of
the opinion of Martial that such a proceeding was a crime. Martial’s
word has been adopted, but later generations of writers do not
appear to have fully accepted his views of the criminal nature of the
practice.[185]
Simcox is of opinion[186] that the poets of the Augustan age
certainly expected to make a certain profit by the sale of their books.
They also had expectations of profiting by the gifts of the emperor or
of other rich patrons of literature, but there must have been not a few
writers who were not fortunate enough to secure the favor either of
the court or of the grandees who followed the fashion of the court,
and to whom the receipts from the booksellers would have been a
matter of no little importance and might frequently have provided
only the means for continued sojourn in the capital. It could only
have been the receipts from sales that Horace had in mind when he
wrote that mediocrity in poets is intolerable, not only to gods and
men, but to booksellers, as if to the poets the approval of the
booksellers was of more importance than that of either the gods or
their fellow-men.[187] It would seem as if either the gods or the
publishers must have been too lenient during the past eighteen
centuries in their treatment of the poets, for the amount of mediocre
verse turned out from year to year is certainly no smaller, considered
in proportion to the entire mass of poetry, than it was in the days of
Horace.
The scanty references which can be traced in Latin literature of the
first century to the relations of authors with the book-trade appear, as
might be expected, almost exclusively in the writings of the society
poets. In such chronicles as those of Sallust and Livy, narratives
written for other purposes than for literary prestige or for bookselling
profits, and which had perhaps almost as much to do with the politics
of the day (“present history”) as with the history of the State (“past
politics”), there was naturally no place for such an insignificant detail
as the arrangements of the authors for placing their books upon the
market. References to booksellers would have been equally out of
place in such a national epic as the Æneid or a great didactic poem
like the Georgics.
What little is known, therefore, concerning the bookselling methods
of the time must be gathered from the casual allusions found in the
verses of such writers as Horace, Ovid, Juvenal, and Martial, and
particularly of the last-named.
When (about 7 a.d.) Ovid was banished by the aged Augustus to
Tomi, a dreary frontier town somewhere near the mouth of the
Danube, he complains that he finds there no libraries, no
booksellers. He is surrounded by the din of weapons and the tedious
talk of soldiers. He has no single associate who is interested in
literature, or whose taste or judgment he could call upon for literary
counsel.

Non hic librorum, per quos inviter alarque,

Copia; pro libris arcus et arma sonant,
Nullus in hac terra, recitem si carmina, cujus
Intellecturis auribus utar, adest.
 From expressions like these, one can gather an impression of the
circles the gay society poet had left behind him in his mourned-for
Rome—the libraries and book-shops, where he could always find
literary friends to whose appreciative criticism he could submit his
latest lines. The picture recalls the literary resorts of London in the
time of Wycherley and Congreve.
Ovid sends one of his productions to a friend in Rome, whom he
requests to supervise its publication. He writes:
“O thou who art an instructor and a priest among the learned! I
commend to your care this my offspring. Bereft of its parent (an
exile), it must place its dependence upon you its guardian. Three of
my (literary) progeny have preceded this. See that my future
productions are given to the world through yourself.”[188]
Martial presents himself to the public with a cordial appreciation of
his own merits:

Hic is quem legis ille, quem requiris,

Toto notus in orbe Martialis
Argutis epigrammaton libellis.[189]

“This is he whom you read and whom you seek—Martial, famous

throughout the world for his brilliant volumes of epigrams.” He goes
on to say:

Ne tamen ignores ubi sim venalis, et erres

Urbe vagus tota, me duce certus eris.[190]

“Lest, however, you should perchance not know where I am for sale,
and should go astray and wander over the whole city, you shall be
made sure of your way by my directions.” He then adds the direction:

Libertum docti Lucensis quære Secundum

Limina post Pacis Palladiumque forum.
“Look for Secundus, the freedman of the learned citizen Lucensis,
(you will find him) behind the threshold of Pax and the forum of
Pallas.”
Secundus appears to have been the Tauchnitz of his day, and to
have prepared editions in compact form for travellers:

Qui tecum cupis esse meos ubicunque libellos

Et comites longæ quæris habere viæ,
Hos eme, quos arctat brevibus membrana tabellis.

“You who desire to have my books with you wherever you are, and to
make them the companions of your long journeys, buy those which
have been put up in compact form” (literally, “which the parchment
compresses into small pages”).
Martial was apparently a chronic grumbler, and the record of his
various complaints about his publishers and his public has been of
not a little service in throwing light upon certain details of the
publishing methods of his time. He was evidently one of the writers
who kept a close watch on the receipts from the sales of his books.
He maintained that a poet was perfectly justified in refusing to give
presentation copies, because these interfered with the receipts from
his booksellers.
He writes, for instance, to his friend Lupercus:

Occurris quotiens, Luperce nobis

Vis mittam puerum, subinde dicis,
Cui tradas epigrammaton libellum
Lectum quem tibi protinus remittam?
Non est quod puerum, Luperce, vexes.
Longum est, si velit ad Pyrum venire,
Et scalis habito tribus, sed altis.
Quod quæris proprius petas licebit;
Argi nempe soles subire letum.
Contra Cæsaris est forum taberna
Scriptis postibus hinc et inde totis,
 Omnes ut cito perlegas poetas.—
Illinc me pete; nec roges Atrectum,
(Hoc nomen dominus gerit tabernæ);
De primo dabit, alterove nido
Rasum pumice purpuraque cultum,
Denariis tibi quinque Martialem.
“Tanti non es,” ais! Sapis, Luperce.[191]

“Every time you meet me, Lupercus, you say something

about sending a slave to my house to borrow a volume of
my Epigrams. Do not give your slave the trouble. It is a
long distance to my part of the city, and my rooms are high
up on the third story. You can get what you want close to
your abode. You often visit the quarter of the Argiletum.
You will find there, near the Square of Cæsar, a shop the
doors of which are covered on both sides with the names
of poets, so arranged that you can at a glance run over
the list. Enter there and mention my name. Without waiting
to be asked twice, Atrectus, the master of the shop, will
take from his first or second shelf a copy of Martial, well
finished, and beautifully bound with a purple cover, and
this he will give you in exchange for five deniers. What! Do
you say it is not worth the price? O wise Lupercus!”
Martial takes occasion to recommend to another acquaintance (but
on an entirely different ground) the propriety of purchasing rather
than appropriating his productions.
He writes to a certain Fidentinus:

Fama refert nostros te, Fidentine, libellos

Non aliter populo quam recitare tuos.
Si mea vis dici, gratis tibi carmina mittam,
Si dici tua vis, haec eme, ne mea sint.[192]

“It is said, Fidentinus, that in reciting my verses you

always speak of them as your own. If you are willing to
 credit them to me, I will send them to you gratis. If,
however, you wish to have them called your verses, you
had better buy them, when they will no longer belong to
me.”
It is possible that Martial intends by this to suggest to Fidentinus the
purchase of the author’s “rights” in these verses, “‘rights,’ which he
was willing to sell for a price.” It is more probable, however, that he
wanted to shame the plagiarist at least into the buying of some
copies.
Martial writes in a similar strain to Quintus:

Exigis ut donem nostros tibi, Quinte, libellos.

Non habeo; sed habet bibliopola Tryphon.
Æs dabo pro nugis et emam tua carmina sanus?
Non, inquis, faciam tam fatue. Nec ego.[193]

“You ask, Quintus, that I shall make you a present of my

poems. I, myself, have no copies, but the bookseller
Tryphon has some. You may say to yourself, ‘Shall I give
money for such trifles?’ ‘Shall I, being of sound mind, buy
your verses?’ ‘No, indeed,’ you conclude, ‘I will commit no
such folly.’ Neither, then, will I.”
It was Martial’s idea that the proper use of presentation copies was
not for needy friends but for influential patrons, from whom
substantial acknowledgments could be looked for in the shape of
honoraria. He begs the court chamberlain, Parthenius, to bring his
modest little book (timida brevisque charta) to the attention of the
Emperor.[194] He asks Faustinus to give a copy to Marcellinus,[195]
and begs Rufus to present two copies to Venulejus.[196]
The hopes of the author in connection with these presentation
copies are indicated by such lines as the following:

Editur en sextus sine te mihi Rufe Camoni,

Nec te lectorem sperat, amice, liber.[197]
 Or by these:

O quantum tibi nominis paratur

O quæ gloria! quam frequens amator!
Te convivia, te forum sonabit,
Ædes, compita, porticus, tabernæ,
Uni mitteris, omnibus legeris.

It is evident that a book frequently secured through such personal

distribution on the part of the author a certain circulation and
publication before copies were placed upon the bookstands, or
before it was given into the hands of any bookseller acting as its
publisher. Haenny is of opinion that the anxiety of authors like Martial
to come into relations with patrons and to secure from them
honoraria may be taken as indicating that they could depend upon
no receipts from the booksellers. It seems to me that another
interpretation is equally plausible. We find an author like Martial
needy, eager for money, taking pains to cultivate the favor of the
wealthy and the influential in the hopes of securing benefits at their
hands. We find him also doing all in his power to push the sale of his
books through the booksellers, telling the public where to go and
how much they will have to pay, himself writing the publishing
announcements of his new books, and in every way evincing the
keenest interest in the sales secured for them. It seems natural
enough to conclude that he derived a direct business advantage
from these sales, and such a conclusion is in accord with what we
know of the character of the man, and is borne out by various
references in his writings.
In one epigram[198] Martial laments that no one of his readers has
felt moved, in return for the gratification secured from his writings, to
make him a present such as Virgil received from Mæcenas: tantum
gratis pagina nostra placet, an expression which has been
interpreted as indicating that this author received no return either
direct or indirect from those buying his books. In another utterance,
however, he mourns his loss of receipts when for a long time he has
published no new thing, but even then he considers that the loss to
the public has been much more serious.[199]
In thus speaking of his indifference to the number of his readers, he
appears to have either forgotten, or as a matter of affectation to have
ignored, the fact that while a large sale for a particular book already
paid for by the publisher, could not increase the author’s gains for
that particular work, it would certainly put him in a position to secure
a higher price from the publisher for his next similar work.
In this way the author would have a very direct pecuniary interest in
securing the largest possible number of readers even for books
which had been purchased outright by the publisher.
A. Schmidt is one of the students of the subject who believes there
is evidence to show that, according to the usual practice, the author
received compensation from the publisher not in the form of a
royalty, but as an advance payment on the delivery of the manuscript
or on the publication of the book.[200]
Among other quotations he cites the following:

Quamvis tam longo possis satur esse libello,

Lector, adhuc a me disticha pauca petis,
Sed Lupus usuram puerique diaria poscunt,
Lector, solve. Taces, dissimulasque? Vale.

The reader, however much pleased with the poem given, is

supposed to be expecting a few additional verses; but the usurer
Lupus is calling upon the poet for his money, and the poet’s children
are crying for bread. (Therefore) O reader, make payment (to me, in
need, from whom you have received benefit). (What!) You make no
response. You pretend (not to understand). Farewell!—(“I have no
use for you,” would be the modern slang.)
The passage presents difficulties, and has been variously
interpreted. Schmidt reads for “solve” “salve.” I base my reading on
the text given by Haenny.
 In another epigram he notes that the edition of his Xenii could be
bought from his publisher, Tryphon, for four sesterces (the equivalent
of about twelve and a half cents).
He grumbles at the price as being too high, contending that
Tryphon could have secured a fair profit from half the amount. He
adds: “These verses, O reader, you will, however, find convenient for
presents for your friends, at least if your purse is as scantily
furnished as is my own.”

Omnis in hoc gracili xeniorum turba libello

Constabit nummis quatuor empta tibi.
Quatuor est nimium? poterit constare duobus,
Et faciet lucrum bibliopola Tryphon.
Hæc licet hospitibus pro munere disticha mittas,
Si tibi tam rarus quam mihi nummus erit.[201]
Nulla remisisti parvo pro munere dona,

····

Decipies alios verbis vultuque benigno,

Nam mihi jam notus dissimulator eris.[202]

Here we have a reproach (which may also serve as a suggestion)

to the reader. “You have sent me no gift [or honorarium] as an
acknowledgment [of the pleasure given to you]. Others may be
deceived by your words and your smiling countenance [into believing
you to be a fair-minded man who would recognize his obligations].
To me it is evident you are a dissembler.” (The term is apparently
used here to describe one shirking an obligation).
Martial is quite clear in his mind that no one who has read his
productions and has not felt an indebtedness to their author, and
who has not taken measures to discharge the same, can be an
honorable man.

Et tantum gratis pagina nostra placet.[203]

“My book gives so much pleasure at no cost” (to the receiver).

Dicitur et nostros cantare Britannia versus.

Quid prodest? nescit sacculus ista meus.[204]

“It is said that (even in distant) Britain my verses are sung. What
advantage is that? [to me]. My purse knows nothing of it.”
Such a complaint may be interpreted in one of several ways. The
author may have had payment for his Italian editions, but have been
unable to exercise control over unauthorized issues of his books in
distant parts of the empire; or he may have sold to his distributing
publisher, Tryphon, all rights in the verses, in which case the direct
advantage of extended sales would accrue only to the publisher; or
there may have been no actual sales in Britain, but single copies
carried by officers or travellers may have found their way there, and
their presence, referred to in correspondence or by returning
travellers, have given to the author the impression that a large
reading public in the far north was appreciating his poetry. A very
slight reference would serve to excite the imagination of so self-
confident an author as Martial.
Martial seems to have been in the habit, not unknown to modern
writers, and particularly to English writers, of pitting one publisher
against another, in order to secure the largest bid for a new work. At
one time he had no less than four publishers in charge of the sale of
his works, Tryphon, Atrectus, Polius, and Secundus.
The last named issued a special pocket edition of the Epigrams.
Atrectus, Secundus, and Tryphon have already been referred to. To
the fourth, Quintus Valerianus Polius, had it seems been given over
the earlier productions of the poet, which he terms his juvenilia. He
commends Polius to the reading public in the following lines:

Quæcunque lusi juvenis et puer quondam

Apinasque nostras, quas nec ipse jam novi
 Male collocare si bonas voles horas
Et invidebis otio tuo, lector,
A Valeriano Polio petes Quinto,
Per quem perire non licet meis nugis.[205]

“The trifles that I scribbled in the callow days of my youth,

productions which I myself hardly remember, these you may secure
(if you have a grudge against your leisure and are willing to waste a
few hours) from Polius, through whose care my trifles are preserved
from oblivion.”
It seems probable that Atrectus gave special attention to the more
elaborate and artistic editions, such as are to-day rather clumsily
described as editions de luxe. It is in his shop that the volumes are to
be found with the ornate purple covers. As far as can be judged from
the references, Atrectus, Polius, and Secundus had simply a local
trade. Tryphon, on the other hand, we know to have possessed a
publishing and distributing machinery. As Haenny remarks, it was no
small matter to provide with Martial’s writings not only Rome, but
Italy, the provinces, and the outlying corners of the empire. While he
was still a beginner in literature, Martial had to be satisfied with the
services of Polius, who continued later to keep in sale the juvenilia. It
was only after the poet had become known in the fashionable literary
world that he was able to secure the co-operation of a leading
publisher like Tryphon.
If we were to-day referring to such a publishing relation, we should
speak of securing the imprint of the publisher. As has been
explained, however, the practice of associating with a work the name
of its publisher began with printed books. The Roman publisher sent
out his manuscript copies with no indication of the address of the
shop in which they had been prepared.
The poet tells us that he prepared the advertisements for the
booksellers, putting these in the form of epigrams, but not neglecting
to specify the form and price of each book as well as the place
where it was offered for sale.
 Qui tecum cupis esse meos ubicunque libellos,
Et comites longæ quæris habere viæ,
Hos eme quos arctat brevibus membrana tabellis;
Scrinia da magnis, me manus una capit.

····

Libertum docti Lucensis quære Secundum

Limina post Pacis, Palladiumque forum.[206]

The idea of an epigrammatic advertisement recalls the

announcement (identical with the rhyming title-page) of the first
edition of Lowell’s Fable for Critics.

“Reader! Walk up at once (it will soon be too late) and buy at
a perfectly ruinous rate,
A Fable For Critics, or better
(I like, as a thing that the reader’s first fancy may strike, an
old-fashioned title-page, such as presents
a tabular view of the volume’s contents),
A glance at a few of our Literary progenies
(Mrs. Malaprop’s word)
From the tub of Diogenes,
A vocal and musical medley, that is
A series of Jokes by a Wonderful Quiz,
Who accompanies himself with a rub-a-dub-dub,
Full of spirit and grace, on the top of the tub.
Set forth in October, the 21st day,
In the year ’48, G. P. Putnam, Broadway.”

It is a pity that one of Martial’s advertisements could not have been

preserved to compare with the above, which strikes one as quite
Martialesque in its general style.
According to Schmidt,[207] Martial’s activities in connection with the
sale of his books did not end even with the preparation of the
advertisements. In certain cases he was himself engaged in finding
buyers for copies. It is probable that such author’s copies formed
part of the compensation paid by the publisher for the manuscript,
and while by the wealthier authors these would be bestowed “with
compliments” upon their friends, the needy writers like Martial would
be compelled to turn them into cash. In the eighteenth century in
London we find a similar condition of things in the accounts of what
was then called publishing “by subscription,” when the needy author
would, with his hat in one hand and his subscription list in the other,
wait upon his “gracious patron” in expectation of an order for so
many copies of his new volume at a guinea or more each.
In spite of the careful training given to their copyists by a few high-
class publishers like Atticus, the complaints of inaccurate and
slovenly texts, libri mendosi, were frequent. In order to be really
trustworthy, each individual copy of the edition ought, of course, to
have been carefully collated with and read verbatim by the original,
but for an edition of any size, prepared as rapidly as we are told
some of them were, such thorough verification was of course
impracticable. Martial states[208] that a poem of his (we infer that he
means an edition of the poem), comprising 540 lines, had been
produced in one hour, hæc una peragit hora nec tantum nugis
serviet ille meis. Such work would of course have been done by
employing one or more readers to dictate to a number of copyists.
The number of copies in the edition is not stated. It could only have
been on rare occasions that the author himself would undertake to
correct the copies. Martial speaks of doing such correcting work in
an exceptional case.[209]
Cicero was evidently exacting concerning the accuracy of his
copies. He tells Atticus that by no means must any copies of the
treatise De Officiis be allowed to go out until they had been carefully
corrected.
We find an occasional reference to a “press-corrector” known to
Atticus and Cicero by his Greek name Διορθωτήρ. As the author,
except in rare cases, did not get his manuscript again into his hands
after this had gone to his publisher, and saw his work again only
when the edition was completed and about to be distributed, he was
saved from the temptation to make “betterments” by omissions or
additions. All such revision he had attended to with due care before
handing over his manuscript as “ready for publication,” and authors
and publishers of classic times were thus saved the vexation of
“extra corrections,” which so frequently forms a serious addition to
the expense account and to the annoyance account of modern book-
making.
The risks of errors in the transcription must certainly have been
materially increased if in the larger publishing establishments the
practice was followed of writing from dictation, one “reader”
supplying simultaneous “copy” to a number of scribes. It seems
probable that in no other way would it have been practicable to
produce with sufficient speed and economy the editions required,
and I find myself in accord with Birt in the conclusion that dictating
was the method generally followed, at least in the more important
establishments and for the larger editions. The scribes must of
necessity have had a scholarly training, and ought also to have
possessed some familiarity with the texts to which they were
listening; while with the most skilful and scholarly scribes a careful
revision of their copies would have been essential.
Haenny is of opinion that dictation was rarely if ever employed. He
lays stress on the fact that the term employed by Cicero in referring
to the multiplication of copies was describere, and he contends that
this stands simply for copying and cannot be translated as writing
from dictation.[210]
One indication of the size of the editions prepared of new books is
given in the many references to the various uses found for the
“remainders” or unsold copies. The most frequent fate of
unsuccessful poetry was for the wrapping of fish and groceries, while
large supplies of surplus stock found their way from the booksellers
to the fires of the public baths.[211] Cooks also were large buyers of
remainders of editions. An author who was voluminous and who had
not been able to secure a publisher, might even, as the wags
suggested, find it convenient to be burned upon a pile of his own
manuscripts. It is evident that in these earlier days of publishing it
was no easier than at present for authors or publishers to calculate
with accuracy the extent of the public interest in their productions,
while it is also probable that then as now an author would rather pay
for the making of an abundant supply than incur the dreadful risk of
not having enough copies to meet the immediate demand.
While the Augustan age witnessed a decided development in the
literary interests of the Roman community, and while the
organization of such bookselling establishments as those of Atticus,
Tryphon, and the Sosii gave to authors the needed machinery for
bringing their writings before the public, it is probable that for the
larger number of the writers of the time the receipts from the books
were very inconsiderable.
As before pointed out, question has in fact been raised by more
than one student of the subject as to whether the Roman authors
secured from the sales of their books any money return at all. Of the
writers who find no satisfactory evidence for such returns, Haenny is
by far the most important. I am myself, however, inclined to accept
the conclusions of Birt, Schmitz, Géraud, and others to the effect that
Roman authors, from the time of Cæsar down, were able to secure
from the publishers or booksellers through whom their books were
sold some portion of the proceeds of such sales. The absence of any
protection under the law for either author or publisher, the
competition of unauthorized editions, the competition (of a different
kind) of books published solely for the amusement or the literary
satisfaction of their wealthy or fashionable authors, and written
without any desire for money return, and the lack of adequate
publishing and distributing machinery, unquestionably all operated to
make the compensation of such Roman authors as, like Martial,
needed the money, fragmentary, uncertain, and at best but
inconsiderable. The weight of the evidence, however, seems to me
certainly to favor the conclusion that compensation there was, and
that it served as one of the inducements for authorship as a career
(or as a partial occupation), and served also to attract to the capital
(where alone publishing facilities could be secured) literary aspirants
from the rest of Italy and from the provinces. Schmitz gives his views
as follows[212]:
 Mihi quoque persuasum est, plurimos auctores Romanos gloriæ
tantum ac honoris causa scripta sua bibliopolis divulganda
tradidisse, quod tamen non impedit, quominus illi interdum pretium a
bibliopolis acceperint. Et vere acceperunt.
In Rome, as centuries before in Greece, the compensation for
stage-rights and the rewards for playwrights were much more
assured and more satisfactory than any that could be secured by
writers of books. Comedy writers like Plautus and Terence were able
to sell their plays to the Ædiles. Haenny contends that the payments
made by the Ædiles ought not strictly to be described as given for
the purchase of the plays, but as a recognition on the part of the
community, made through its official representatives, of a service
rendered—a recognition that took the shape of an honorarium. I
imagine the playwrights cared very little what the arrangement was
called as long as they got the money. As a fact, however, it was the
business of the Ædiles to provide plays for the public theatres, and I
do not see why the arrangements made by them with Plautus and
Terence did not constitute as definite an acknowledgment on the part
of the State of the rights of dramatic authors as was the case with
similar arrangements made fifteen hundred years later with Molière
or Beaumarchais by the State manager of the Théâtre Français.
Schmitz goes on to say:
Sin autem scripta ab auctoribus cuiusvis generis vendebantur, non
video cur non bibliopolæ quoque huic illive auctori pro scriptis certam
mercedem solverint.
Is it likely, he contends, that Plautus and Terence, having been paid
for their stage-rights (which they practically transferred or sold to the
State), would have been satisfied to hand over to the publishers,
without compensation, the book-rights of these same plays, the
popularity of which had already been tested?
It seems to me possible, however, that in this contention Schmitz
proves too much. The publisher might take the ground that a play
which had been paid for by the Ædiles for the public welfare had
become public property and belonged to the common domain, and
that the author had surrendered or assigned to the State such rights
in it as he had possessed. Such a theory would have given to the
publisher a fair pretext for declining to pay compensation or
honorarium for any play that had already been paid for by the
Ædiles.
A similar suggestion was made as late as 1892 in the case of the
official poems written by Tennyson as poet-laureate. It was
contended that the nation paid to the laureate an annual stipend as a
specific consideration for the production of poems on certain official
occasions, and that the poems thus paid for were the property of the
nation. This theory did not prevent the laureate from securing, first
from the publication in a monthly, and later from a reissue (with other
pieces) in book-form, a large compensation for his royal birthday
odes and jubilee hymns. I am inclined to think, however, that if the
question had been put to the test, the courts would have decided
that the copyright of these productions had become vested in the
nation, and that the poems belonged to the public domain.
In calling attention to the frequently quoted twenty-fourth epigram of
Martial, Schmitz says:
Quantulumcunque fuit, merebatur noster libellis suis et
quum dona ab amicis non acciperet, mereri tantum potuit
a bibliopolis, qui carmina sua vendebant.... Quæ sententia
probatur alio loco Martialis, quo damnum se accepisse
queritur, quum carmina non scripserit, doletque prope jam
triginta diebus vix unam paginam peractam esse.
The epigram in question reads as follows:

Dum te prosequor et domum reduco,

Aurem dum tibi præsto garrienti,
Et quidquid loqueris facisque laudo,
Quot versus poterant, Labulle, nasci?
Hoc damnum tibi non videtur esse,
Si quod Roma legit, requirit hospes,
Non deridet eques, tenet senator,
Laudat causidicus, poeta carpit,
Propter te perit? Hoc, Labulle, verum est?