At the outset of World War Two, the University of Oxford contributed to the war effort by publishing a series of pamphlets on world affairs written by expert historians, layers, economists and other academics. As a teenage student, I found them useful and I treasure them to this day.
One of them, by Professor E.H. Carr, discussed the origin, character and function of propaganda
The pamphlet found its place in the series because mass opinion was vital to the successful prosecution of the war — but “propaganda”, as a concept, had been exercising the minds of politicians and academics alike for some time.
Politics are vitally dependent on the opinion of large masses of more or less politically conscious people. It is a topic which no government can afford to ignore. Democracies purport to follow mass opinion. Totalitarian states set a standard and enforce conformity.
Even so, some control by the state – even if veiled – over the instruments and weapons of propaganda is unavoidable. In totalitarian countries, the communications media are under total control.
In democratic countries, conditions vary, but the concentration of political and economic power can exercise influence, sometimes conveniently in collaboration with the state, as an alternative to formal control by it.
Power of the word
It hasn’t always been like this. Before the arrival in force of the “mass media”, the power of the word was exercised in a different context. Words – spoken or written – were conveyers of ideas coming from an identifiable source. If you read the speeches of John Burke, or of Sir Ugo Mifsud or Sir Paul Boffa, for that matter, what you see is what you get – undiluted oratory, straight from the heart, flying on the wings of conviction.
The spin-doctors and the army of speech-writers and personal advisers came later.
With these, came manipulation and the rhetoric of political discourse, crafted to conceal, at times deliberately misleading. The opportunism of politics and lust for power tempted various politicians, of democratic and totalitarian orientations, to resort to the use of the instruments of prevarication and deceit.
It has been said that the rise of literacy, the democratisation of politics, and the growing power of the ubiquitous media gave words a much wider reach. In turn, words became susceptible to subtle and insidious forms of interpretation.
George Orwell in Britain and Professor Victor Klemperer in Germany wrote authoritatively on this subject. On reflection, their seminal observations demonstrate how inured many people are to propaganda, even when it is not so subtle.
Deceptive ploy
Today, politicians, who are often as hungry as hunters, find no problem if they have to run with the dogs and hunt with the hounds. They do not need to change policies or their spokesmen to make a dash for increased support. All they have to do is to spin theories of “reform”, “new ways of doing politics” and “new beginnings”, to which no level-headed elector could object. On the basis of that abra cadabra, they think they can erase their past performance and conjure a brand-new image.
This ploy has been successful time and time again. It succeeded where democracy was weak-kneed, and where public opinion could be duped with words calculated to conceal, rather than communicate.
It has been suggested that many well-meaning citizens are, by now, inured to the idea that a politician is lying when he opens his mouth.
Whoever harbours such an idea should perhaps blame himself or herself. Big lies work because we fail to question them.
Politicians should be judged by their deeds – not by their words. Those of them responsible for our own and our country’s well-being should be judged by their past performance and by their record in delivering the goods they promise.
When politicians in office promise one thing and do the opposite, it is not just a question of their words ringing hollow in the ears of all who listen. They open the prospect of their reputation going up in smoke, in the fire of electoral fury.
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