Published in print December 2021
Art by Meghan Flood.
‘All art is propaganda’ — in many cases, these words by George Orwell are intuitively true. While the colourful, striking propaganda poster of the twentieth century is largely a dead medium, much of the art we consume on a daily basis nevertheless seeks to covertly influence our perspectives, opinions, and preferences. The books we read subtly lure us towards the author’s views on issues like work, sex, or climate change; the blockbusters that dominate the box office not-so-subtly promote the United States military (see any Marvel movie of the past decade); even the music we listen to can carry a strong message behind its upbeat surface, such as Green Day’s ‘American Idiot’, or Childish Gambino’s ‘This is America’.
What do we mean when we discuss propaganda? A quick Google search tells us that propaganda is “information, especially of a biased or misleading nature, used to promote a political cause or point of view” (also apparently a committee of cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church responsible for foreign missions, founded in 1622 by Pope Gregory XV, but that’s besides the point). The word itself has its roots in the Latin word meaning ‘propagation’, the wide promotion of an idea or theory, and while it often has negative connotations, this is not necessarily reasonable. While it tends to conjure up images of the Third Reich and totalitarianism, many democratic governments and diverse political movements utilised propaganda in the 20th century; it is not strictly a tool of ‘the bad guys’.
Oftentimes, propaganda art is best at conveying a message to the masses, or pushing a specific political ideology – take, for example, the iconic images of Rosie the Riveter, or patriotic Uncle Sam. However, such propaganda posters are generally considered weak in artistic terms. “Propaganda is a much maligned and often misunderstood word,” said Joseph Goebbels, Reich Minister of propaganda in Nazi Germany, in 1933. “The layman uses it to mean something inferior or even despicable. The word propaganda always has a bitter aftertaste.” But despite the tragic irony of Goebbels’ words, this quote rings true; not all propaganda is created with malicious intent, nor is it all objectively inferior as an art form. Orwell reiterated this sentiment in relation to art, stating that whilst “all art is propaganda”, it is important to distinguish between “good” and “bad” propaganda. Picasso’s ‘Guernica’, which remains a potent political symbol today, is frequently acknowledged as a form of anti-war propaganda. The painting portrays the devastating impact of a Nazi bombing practice in the Basque region of Guernica during the Spanish Civil War. This stark rendition of the tragedy’s aftermath is devoid of colour, intensifying its dramatic effect. Furthermore, Picasso opted to give the artwork a bold matte finish – a chilling reminder of the loss of life that occurred that day.
Some 20th century art movements, such as abstract expressionism, of which Jackson Pollock was a leading figure, openly embraced the concept of pure aestheticism, and strived towards the ideal that art should be completely separated from ideology. However, not even artists within this circle could escape from the clutches of Cold War propaganda, as their own work was adopted as a political and cultural weapon to establish American supremacy. Abstract expressionism was reported to have been promoted and funded by the CIA during this period of ideological warfare, as a means of associating America with freedom of expression and creativity. Regardless of the artists’ intentions, their work was used for propaganda purposes, seemingly furthering the point that art cannot exist outside of the bounds of the socio-political contexts of its time.
But in what sense could Orwell reasonably claim that all art is propaganda? Can it be true that art in every form is an expression of values? When Wordsworth eulogises Tintern Abbey, we see his high regard for the natural world; Caravaggio’s many depictions of Christ display his value for religious faith; even when we see Fiona marry Shrek, we are influenced to value true love over superficial physical appearances. These works of art necessarily allocate value to and prioritise certain things over others, and encourage us to take on these values for our own. Even something as simple as a painting of a green field, a mountain range or a seascape, in vying for our time and attention, influences our values, and consequently our politics.
