INTELLIGENCES VAST AND COOL AND UNSYMPATHETIC

I read something the other day that gave me pause. Before I tell you what it is, let me quote from H.G. Wells. "No one would have believed . . . that this world was being watched by intelligences greater than man's . . . that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were being scrutinized and studied, perhaps as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinize the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. Yet across the gulf of space, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans . . . ." The quote is from The War of the Worlds.

It is apparent from the U.S. Postal Service's Stamp and Philatelic Marketing Plan distributed in January to Postal Service management personnel, that they, too, have been studying.

With intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, they have scrutinized the philatelic community and divided us into groups, as the man at the microscope might divide infusoria into genera.

Here's what they have learned: "Serious collectors focus more on stamp quality (centering of perforations, registration of inks, debris-free adhesive evenly applied, etc.) and expect clerks to devote considerable time to their hunt for 'perfect' stamps." It makes serious collectors sound like pests. And debris-free adhesive? Exactly what is that? Is this Newspeak or what?

Casual collectors "don't feel driven to complete their collections and, in fact, may not even consider themselves stamp collectors. But they will respond to innovative stamp marketing policies. [Emphasis added.] Since casual collectors represent the largest audience for potential market growth, most of our national promotional and sales efforts are aimed toward them. Casual collectors influence the mix of stamps in each year's program and the stamp products such as mint sets offered each year."

Slowly and surely as Wells' Martians, Postal Service marketing mavens, vast and cool and unsympathetic, are drawing their plans. The Postal Service wants to sell $170 million worth of products to stamp collectors this year. According to their findings, "The traditional philatelic market won't support the revenue goals we've assumed. Thus we must extend stamp marketing to new segments of the population."

They didn't use the word "stamps" to describe what they wanted to sell to collectors; they used the word "products." And they didn't say extend stamp "collecting"; they said extend stamp "marketing."

Remember when a commemorative stamp was really an event, really significant? Remember when one got the impression the Postal Service issued commemorative stamps to honor events and personalities of national importance, stamps that they could justifiably be proud of? That they issued commemoratives as an honorable service to the nation, not a money-grubbing gimmick to offset deficits created by their own inability to operate their basic business efficiently?

Today's commemoratives are increasingly trite, made more so by their abundance. The subjects glimmer only for an instant before joining the forgotten faces in the teeming crowd of all-too-many other issues. And the face values? Do we really need $9.95 Olympic stamps? For that matter, should the USPS be in the business of supporting the Olympics?

Remember when stamp collectors felt pride in their nation's stamp issuing policy? Felt important and valued? Now the USPS seems to be saying that traditional collectors are important all right, but perhaps a bit too fussy, and, sadly, they're not enough of them. The answer? Create more collectors. And more financially expedient yet, sell more gimmicks, turn the nation's post offices into a chain of T-shirt, coffee-mug, jig-saw puzzle peddling gift shops of the type that heretofore were only found in chintzy tourist traps.

Remember when big post offices had white stone pillars, bas-relief eagles, and noble words inscribed in granite above their doors? Remember when, on marble floors, your footsteps echoed in interiors as cavernous as cathedrals? How the immensity of it made you feel humble? Well, forget that, and make way for neon, for designer boutiques, for glass showcases, for revolving racks, and for tinsel-and-glitter ambiance.

Perhaps genetic engineering would help. Design a new breed of collector, one who is not fussy, one who will purchase whatever is offered, one who is oblivious to what constitutes a complete collection, and one who, furthermore, does not care. Create a collector who will be content to simply absorb new issues. Concentrate on demographics. Learn how much disposable income this new breed has. Ascertain his threshold of financial pain. Identify the point of diminishing returns, then crank up the presses and print enough "product" to absorb 100 percent of that philatelically inclined disposable income.

It's clear that traditional stamp collectors are no longer thought of as friends, but as revenue objects, one of several possible segments of an arms-length market. A market to be managed and exploited. Sorry, there's no delicate way to put it.

Okay, maybe I'm being thin skinned. Maybe I'm being silly, but I'll bet that just as sure as I'm writing this, somewhere across the vast gulf that separates Washington from America, we are being watched by intelligences . . . vast and cool and unsympathetic . . . and that slowly and surely they are drawing their plans . . . .