 farmers in their thirties, Ia. Betram and A. Gotman were identified as leaders of the Soviet religious group 'Children of God', but Gotman had been a member of a Baptist congregation for a number of years. The men were accused of spreading anti-Soviet propaganda. According to the court records, they burnt their army cards, vociferously condemned military service, destroyed their own property, killed their dogs, stopped their children attending school, and called on others to do the same. 129 A summary of court proceedings suggested that Gotman explained his actions in terms of prophecy (prorochestvo) particularly with regard to the imminent end: he was told believers would be led to Israel, and their belongings should not be left behind for their enemies (non-believers). 130 For the whole of November and December 1956, it was claimed, 26 villagers refused to go to work on the farm because they were preparing for the end of the world. 131 If true, this would suggest that the fears were not unique to the two leaders.
In contrast to the court cases of the late Stalinist era, this trial was reported in the national press. In 1957 an article in Komsomol'skaia pravda explained how the 'Children of God' held conversations with the almighty which ended in 'contorted dancing and grimacing', engaged in sexual depravity (such as wife-sharing), and spread rumours that the end of the world was imminent (the charge which was the centre of the court case). But this was not all: the piece also graphically describes how young communists, upon hearing cries and disturbance, hurried to Betram's home, 'flung open the door and saw a wild sight -a young, half-naked woman was standing beside a tall white cross... The monsters planned to nail the young woman to the cross'. 132 A fleeting reference to this unlikely occurrence was made in a witness statement in the court record but was key to the press version which depicted the believers as debauched fanatics, drawing on pre-revolutionary notions of the sectarian's depravity. 133 The article also made clear that such monstrous behaviour resulted from their hysteria about the End Times. Perhaps geography played its part: the collective farm where this incident occurred was close to the town of Borodulikha in eastern Kazakhstan, and in relative proximity to the Semipalatinsk nuclear test site. 134 No reference was made to this in the court file or newspaper coverage, but it is worth speculating whether there was a connection between locals' belief that the end was coming and the huge fireballs, mushroom clouds, deafening roars, and earthquake-like tremors they must have witnessed.
At least in part a product of the early Cold War, the anxiety surrounding religious subcultures, particularly their potential to spread apocalyptic fear, now coalesced into a terrifying and much-publicized spectre: the'sectarian' was no longer a problem over which party and state officials shook their heads in the hush of governmental offices, or passed sentence in a closed courtroom, as had been the case in the late 1940s and early 1950s, but a folk devil repeatedly reviled in the press, newsreels and feature films. And yet this image of the fanatic was rivalled by that of'sectarian' leaders taking to the international stage. In 1960, at the peak of Khrushchev's anti-religious campaign, one tract noted: 'There is no doubt that the struggle for peace would be even more successful if it was freed from its religious covering [obolochka] as religion only prevents people from recognizing and exposing enemies of peace'. 135 Quite an admission for a piece of Soviet propaganda. Still, this contradictory approach continued into the early 1960s, with Zhidkov among the signatories of an ecumenical peace appeal published in Izvestiia during the Cuban Crisis of 1962 -the year with the highest levels of anti-religious propaganda. 136 In the USA, the late 1940s and 1950s saw religion, broadly conceived, provide a common ground for politicians, business leaders, and ordinary people, many of whom came to believe that their country's position in the Cold War was divinely sanctioned. Some thought that nuclear weapons might be a sign of the Second Coming, conferring on the conflict additional intensity and purpose. Given the atheist foundations of the communist regime, religion could hardly create this kind of convergence of interests in the USSR. And yet the term'religious cold war' is nonetheless suggestive in the Soviet context, even if it allows us to identify points of tension rather than a story of (prospective) national unity as was the case in the USA.
In the USSR, religious activity had increased during the war. In its aftermath, the threat of a new outbreak of violence (with weapons about which citizens were given ominous but unclear warnings), created intense anxiety, and religious concepts and imagery proved one way to articulate these fears, just as they did in the USA. Instead of encouraging, or at least tolerating, apocalyptic thinking, the Soviet state tried to suppress the religious imagination, dismissing it as the realm only of a sectarian, lunatic fringe. This demonization of the'sectarian' made itself fully felt with the anti-religious campaigns of the Khrushchev era, but its roots date back to mid-1947 and the start of the Cold War. Yet the Soviet state did not limit itself to this tactic. The party leadership did not straight-forwardly denounce religion and its adherents, even though this would have been in keeping with the atheist doctrines which the regime had fought so hard to instil in its population. 137 Nor did it simply embrace Russian Orthodoxy as a source of nationalist sentiment, as is often assumed. It felt drawn to participate in the'religious cold war' launched by the USA under Truman's presidency and sought to create its own ecumenical movement, attempting to prove its tolerance towards different faiths and the universal appeal of its peace message.
'Peace' was presented as a patriotic cause, a shared commitment to building a state of harmony on earth, and certainly some Christians -including ECB leaderswere willing to endorse such a vision. And yet within the Christian tradition, and cutting across the denominations, there was also a very different conception of both 'peace' and the future: pacifist opposition to warfare; and a belief that paradise must await the second coming (and further strife and devastation). As the Cold War escalated, the authorities were fearful that dangerous and politicized interpretations of scripture were on the rise. As a result, those identified as'sectarians' were targeted for arrest in both the late Stalinist era and during Khrushchev's anti-religious campaigns. This persecution opened the regime up to easy charges of hypocrisy by providing opponents both at home and abroad with ready ammunition, as was noted in the major CARC report of 1956 and demonstrated by Krylov's 'appeal' two years later.
Although religion was an arena of the Cold War where the USA clearly had a natural advantage, the Soviet government was unwilling to retreat. 138 Throughout the final decades of its existence the Soviet regime continued to denounce religious faith as both a tool used by imperialists to discipline their subjects and as a dangerous source of irrational and unproductive thinking among its own population, but it nonetheless sought to present itself, both domestically and internationally, as an inclusive and law-bound polity, far more committed to defending freedom of conscience than its capitalist adversaries. Religion thus took on a renewed prominence in the USSR during the Cold War, but its treatment was more conflicted and ambiguous than might be expected. The status of Protestantism embodies this ambivalence particularly clearly: its believers were vilified as subversive and unsettling'sectarians', but its leaders were enlisted to join the chorus of patriotic approval for the Soviet peace cause. A'religious cold war' was thus waged on both sides of the iron curtain, but to the east -instead of providing a sense of shared mission as it did in the west -its internal contradictions undermined both the regime's long-standing atheist credentials and its more recent attempts to present itself as humankind's only hope for achieving peace and harmony in this world.
in-progress and I benefited enormously from their responses, as I did from the feedback the three anonymous JCH reviewers gave me.Background: Physical activity (PA) is a modifiable risk factor for postnatal depression (PND) and programs are needed to enhance PA amongst women at risk of PND. Key stakeholder involvement in informing development and implementation of such programs is vital. However, little research demonstrates key stakeholder insights to inform the design and delivery of PA programs for improving PND. The aim of this study was to explore key stakeholder perspectives on the design and delivery of a home-based PA program for mothers with PND symptoms to inform future real-world implementation and scale-up.
Methods: A descriptive qualitative study was undertaken whereby semi-structured interviews were conducted with representatives from various key stakeholder organisations involved in postnatal PA and/or mental health, public health and policy in Australia (n = 11). Interviews were conducted between September to November 2019 and explored stakeholder perceptions on the design and delivery of a home-based PA program for mothers with PND symptoms. The interview schedule was informed by both the Consolidated Framework for Implementation Research (CFIR) and the PRACTical planning for Implementation and Scale-up (PRACTIS) guide. Data were analysed thematically using both deductive and inductive coding.
Results: The relative priority of PND and PA was high for most organisations involved, although none implemented PA programs supporting women at risk of PND. Most stakeholders perceived the program as appealing due to addressing barriers to postnatal PA, although identified some feasibility issues regarding funding and delivery mechanisms. Suggestions for program adaptations