Catalysts in the Cataclysm
By Tom Wachunas
“We did not call it propaganda, for that
word, in German hands, had come to be associated with deceit and corruption.”
―George Creel
EXHIBIT: Stark County in the Great War - Commemorating the centennial of America's
involvement in World War I, featuring artifacts from the permanent collection,
and community members, celebrating those who served from Stark County, Ohio. / at Massillon Museum, THROUGH NOVEMBER 12, 2017 / 121 Lincoln Way East, downtown Massillon, Ohio
With this exhibit,
the Massillon Museum lives up to its mission of sustaining a place “Where Art
& History Come Together” in a remarkably comprehensive and reverential
manner. Here’s a link to Gary Brown’s excellent Repository look at the overall
scope of the exhibit:
In addition to the many photographs and
artifacts on display, including a superbly composed video documentary produced
by Massillon Museum – “Massillon in the Great War: Voices from the Archives” (Massillon
Museum web link posted above) – an especially fascinating art element here is
the selection of lithographic posters, produced for the Committee on Public
Information, established by President Woodrow Wilson in April, 1917, and overseen
by American propagandist George Creel. In the course of two years, painters and
illustrators created some 1,400 propaganda posters and pamphlets used to encourage
or arguably scare American citizens into either serving as soldiers, or contributing
to the war effort in a variety of other ways. The mass dissemination of such
printed materials was an urgent matter of enlisting public support for America’s
entry into the war, and as such an aggressive appeal for loyalty, solidarity,
and duty.
Speaking of being
scared, I included the first image at the top of this post – which is NOT part
of the Massillon Museum exhibit – simply to get your attention…to condition and
manipulate your thinking… to win you over to an idea. That is, after all, the raison d'être of propaganda. This
particular poster from 1917 – “Destroy This Mad Brute” - was a U.S. adaptation
of an earlier British design. Notice the distressed, half-naked woman clutched
by the helmeted, drooling ape as he stomps on to the shore of America. She’s a
symbol of Liberty, and the rendering of her form recalls 19th
century paintings in the Neoclassical and Romanticism styles. A similar treatment
of Lady Liberty can be seen in some of the posters on view in this exhibit,
though perhaps not quite as startling.
Still, the posters
here are surely arresting enough, designed as they were to sell an agenda,
color public perception, and command a specific response. When I think about
how freely the term propaganda is
applied to this form of illustrative art, George Creel’s words quoted at the
top of this post are somewhat curious. Certainly by the 20th
century, the term had already taken on negative connotations (well-earned,
thanks to politics), long before Germany’s use of it. More than ever before,
though, the term is widely considered pejorative in nature – as if to say all propaganda is inherently deceitful
and corrupt.
But actually, the
term, from the Latin propagare, simply
means to propagate, to spread, and originally referred only to the practice of
spreading the Catholic religion to non-Catholics in the 17th
century. These days, assessing and validating the motives, methods, and truths
behind any sort of ideological spreading is another matter altogether, and an
increasingly difficult one at that.
While the posters
in this exhibit certainly have an old-school patina about them – a sort of dark
naïveté - they remind me nonetheless of the powerful effectiveness of linking
evocative images with all manner of slogans, mottos, and dictums designed to
inspire, inoculate, or incite public response. The big difference between the
practice of propaganda in 1917 and today is the method of delivery. We’re no
longer so beholden to mass printings of artful graphics to deliver our
catalysts for action, our rallying cries to judge, confront, fight, rebel, or
destroy. Now we can cloud them, so to speak, via the Internet, sending them
aloft into the forbiding fog of societal angst.
So when it comes
to addressing matters of war in our current global age – an age heavily
entrenched in its own moral bankruptcy and political depravity – we’ve made
significant strides in advancing our agendas, virtually assuring them instant
worldwide visibility. That said, there are many times when I fantasize being an
interstellar researcher, sent by my otherwordly employer to observe and
evaluate life on Earth. I scour the Internet, learning the history of humanity’s
hate affair with itself. Sufficiently overwhelmed, I report back to my employer
only my utter astonishment that there are any humans left at all on this
planet, adding, “Lord, I hope they feel blessed.”
