During the
1930’s and 1940’s, in both the build-up to and the period after the breakout of
World War II, various countries (or, more specifically, political parties or
governments) relied on different methods of propaganda to bolster or secure
political power and public support for and participation in war efforts. In
Germany, this propaganda increasingly became dominated by Nazi symbols and
ideology and was used to provide justifications for the war that appealed to
the “baser instincts in humans,” particularly with their Aryan discourse.[1]
Though manifested differently, such propaganda also appeared half a world away
in Japan, where rhetoric about “Yamato
suuperioriti”[2]
arose in certain circles as a partial justification for the country’s imperialist
actions in the Pacific region.[3]
In both Germany and Japan (as well as in other nations), propaganda was used to
foster not merely a sense of “cultural nationalism”—a collective identity based
on factors such as geographic location, shared high and low culture, and
ethnicity—but also a “political nationalism,” which inherently derives from
existing political power structures and functions as a sort of “state ideology.”[4]
Fostering a “political nationalism” is more important from the perspective of
political leaders because it ties in the abstract idea of nationalism (based on
a common cultural identity or tradition) with the present governmental system.
In order to shift the focus from cultural nationalism to political,
propagandists employed myths, incorporating them heavily in their political
discourse. The specific manifestations of this phenomenon varied between
countries, but myths evolving around political figures—grounded on pre-existing
myths or notions—and about the collective public’s shared historical past (or,
more specifically, a heavily simplified and idealized version thereof) appeared
in Japan and Germany alike. These myths were used with the intent to foster the
spread of (political) nationalist sentiments within both countries, as well as
to maintain public support after the war started. However, the effects of this
effort on an individual level must not be over-emphasized, as social and
economic realities have a greater influence on the everyday lives and opinions
of citizens than do propagandized myths, images, and slogans. Nevertheless, the
preoccupation with the fabrication and fostering of myth that occurred at this
time remains significant and worth closer examination.
In analyzing the intersection between myth and nationalism in the Germany and Japan of the 1930’s and 1940’s, there are several challenges—definitions and potential problems—that first must be addressed. The first issue to tackle would be to create an operational definition of the word “myth” itself. In this essay, the term will not be used in the sense of its more popular definition limited to mythology and legend, but will rather focus on myth’s unique qualities that Hans Blumenberg highlights in his work Arbeit am Mythos (Work on Myth). Although much of Blumenberg’s work does focus on aspects of Greek mythology, that which he defines as myths are more broadly contextualized to be “stories… distinguished by a high degree of constancy in their narrative core and by an equally pronounced capacity for marginal variation,”[5] and it is precisely myth’s familiarity—the “constancy of its core contents”—and ability to adapt to different historical contexts, media, and motives that form the hallmark of its strength and durability.[6] In this sense, myths can be understood, not just as stories, but also as iconography and characters or historical figures that have certain distinctive, fundamental elements that have persisted through various retellings, presentations, or interpretations and retain some power or weight in a culture. (Indeed, a myth’s very survival is dependent on its use in media and retellings, as it lives and grows through circulation, rather than being tied to one concrete manifestation.) In fact, if one understands “culture” itself to be “an interdependent collection of symbols, values, attitudes, beliefs, habits, and customs that a self-identifying group develops over time and shares through a common and evolving interpretation of its own historical experience,” then myths can also serve as methods of transmitting culture, as well as potential foundations of individual cultures as a network of shared myths, perpetuated and circulated through various media.[7]
One
question that naturally arises is, then, how myths are formed in the first
place. The creation of myths must inherently occur through their transmission,
which happens when some core aspect of a particular myth is especially
meaningful to a group of people that then sees value in sharing and altering
the myth, whether for educational, sociopolitical, or simply entertainment
purposes. The natural inclination, then, is to assume that myths must be old
and passed down through several generations, with each rendition growing
further away from truth and closer to the ever-evolving abstracted or
exaggerated understanding of what that myth means to the culture to which it
belongs. This understanding, however, comes into conflict with the idea that
myths can be manufactured and spread in a short period of time (mere years or a
few decades, for example), such as through propaganda efforts to bolster
support for particular political agendas. Certain of the myths discussed in
this essay, particularly those relating to the idealization of past eras in
Prussia and Japan, did exist long before the 1930’s. Indeed, even in the 18th
century, the famous Japanese puppet play Chūshingura
(The Treasury of Loyal Retainers), based
on a historical event, depicts the loss of a mythical “true” samurai spirit that
once existed long ago (through the contrast of the main characters who do demonstrate
traditional ideas of loyalty and especially honor through an act of revenge).[8] Similarly, Prussia’s absorption into a broader German
state marked its end as a European nation and its beginning as a political myth
in the late 19th century, but several recognizable aspects of the
myth of Prussians as a people (for example, being “militant,” “tough” and “brave”)
existed in Poland and other areas of Germany as far back as the 13th
century—though in those cases also accompanied by negative concepts such as a “state
of being preliterate,” “paganism,” and “wildness,” which is simply an example
of how myths can drastically change over time.[9]
The ability of a myth’s interpretation to change is very important to consider,
however, as it helps to explain why a myth such as that surrounding Adolf Hitler
can still be called a “myth,” even though the active attempt to create that
myth was limited to the 1930’s and early 1940’s. The myth of Hitler as being a
positive leader for Germany is largely dead (allowing for the possible
exception of among neo-Nazi or other extremist groups), but the myth of Hitler
as a representation of dictatorship or even evil itself is still strong. The
fabricated myth is perhaps gone, but the incidental or naturally-formed myth (possibly
because of the initial fabrication) remains in the form of this new
culturally-accepted idea which is still being circulated. In this way, new
myths are continually made and may endure through their transmission, though
perhaps in a different form from the original source or intent.
Another
challenge posed by the study of the use of myth is precisely what effect myths
can be said to have. This question is not one easily answered—in part because
the subject being examined is itself abstract, constantly changing, and may
have different forms between published or performed materials. In addition, the
personal reactions and opinions that may be difficult to articulate are
certainly difficult to quantitatively measure. Perhaps more important, however,
is the simple fact that an individual’s reception of and response to a myth is
personal and may be quite different from the common or public perception. The
public propagation of a myth does not indicate universal internalized acceptance;
Germans and Japanese of the World War II era were by no means spellbound by
myth-weavers and propaganda wizards, nor were they mindless consumers of
mythically and politically charged rhetoric. Specific backlash to certain individual
myths will be dealt with later, but it suffices to say that myths—while
evocative—do not hold a monopoly over people’s attitudes and beliefs. However,
the fact that myths were used as propaganda does indicate that the people who
invoked those myths believed that there was some merit in their use. This may
be due to an understanding of propaganda as an “[appeal] to emotion” rather
than logic or reason in an attempt to influence “mass opinion”—the opinion of
the public on a broad cultural level, which is the same realm where myth
resides.[10]
Just as myth, propaganda functions through its many versions and transmissions,
particularly as a saturation of images and concepts that then (in theory)
become ingrained through subtle and gradual osmosis and through re-circulation
by the consumers of propaganda themselves. Yet, once again, this functions on a
cultural level, not on that of the individual. In both Germany and Japan, myth
was used to some effect in order to shape public opinion, but because of the
complex interaction between the individual and culture, it is more likely the
case that most who were exposed to such “long-term ideological pressure” were
neither “completely free” from nor “completely transformed” by such myths.[11]
Propagandized myth can cultivate associations and kneejerk reactions, but it alone
is insufficient in most cases to shape personally-held convictions and one’s
own actions. Thus, the focus of this essay lies on the intentions and
techniques of the creators of propaganda, rather than relying on inaccurate
generalizations about individual receptions of these politicized myths.
The last
concern to tackle is the question of how German and Japanese usage of myth
during the World War II era are comparable, and what can be gained from such a
comparison. The cultural differences between the two countries cannot be
ignored, not only in terms of surface differences such as societal structure,
norms, and values, but also on a deeper level that may call to question whether
this Western notion of myth is translatable to the Japanese context, when even
broad and basic categories such as, for example, religion and religiosity can
be subtly—yet importantly—different. However, neither must the differences be
exaggerated, or the discourse risks venturing into the trap of a falsely
hyperbolized, East-versus-West dichotomy that ignores commonalities of human
nature. This analysis of the use of myth, therefore, is focused on the types of
myths that appeared in both countries as myths themselves—as a result of
specific political movements and necessities rather than as a product of the
cultures themselves, for the myths of propaganda are those that—while perhaps
drawing from a broader cultural tradition—are imposed on or created for the
“benefit” of the public for a specific purpose. In particular, the focus of
this essay is on the use of media to circulate these myths in two countries
that—regardless of their specific cultural traditions—shared the common trait
of being imperialistic, militarized societies at a point in time when mass
media allowed for the dissemination of government-sponsored ideas and
propaganda in a more far-reaching way than was possible just decades before. By
treating myths as being a product of and inherently tied to media circulation,
and by acknowledging the fact that media is media regardless of social context,
the specific cultural differences between Germany and Japan can be overcome for
the purposes of this analysis. This essay is not a search for a universal truth
about the relationship between mankind and myth, but rather an examination of
how myths specifically surrounding leaders and nostalgic pasts manifested
themselves and were employed and encouraged by existing power structures during
the World War II era in the media environments of two societies drawing on
different mythic traditions.
[1] Wilfried Scharf, “Nationalsozialistische Propaganda in Presse und Film,” in „...bis zum letzten Atemzuge...“: Propaganda in der NS-Zeit (Göttingen: Goltze-Druck GmbH, 1995), 129. “niederen Instikte im Menschen”
[1] Wilfried Scharf, “Nationalsozialistische Propaganda in Presse und Film,” in „...bis zum letzten Atemzuge...“: Propaganda in der NS-Zeit (Göttingen: Goltze-Druck GmbH, 1995), 129. “niederen Instikte im Menschen”
[2]
“Japanese superiority.” This term is not standard, but was used in 1941 by the
anthropologist and folklorist Nishimura Shinji, who advocated the idea, also
believing that the Japanese were a mix of several races, including
“Jewish-Romans” (Oguma 327). The phrase is relevant for the themes of this essay,
however, as the term “Yamato” was the name for Japan until it became “Nihon” in
the seventh century (Varley 24), thus invoking the idea of an ancient, mythical
lineage as part of (folklorist) Nishimura’s discourse.
[3] Eiji Oguma, Tanitsu minzoku shinwa no kigen: “Nihonjin” no jigazō no keifu (Tōkyō: Shinyō-sha, 1995), 327.
[4] Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms, and Nationalisms: The Militarization of Aesthetics in Japanese History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), 248.
[5] Hans Blumenberg, Work on Myth, trans. Robert M. Wallace (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1985), 34.
[6] Ibid., 149.
[7] Forrest E. Morgan, Compellence and the Strategic Culture of Imperial Japan: Implications for Coercive Diplomacy in the Twenty-First Century (Westport: Praeger Publishers, 2003), 20.
[8] Bitō Masahide and Henry D. Smith, II, “The Akō Incident, 1701-1703,” Monumenta Nipponica 58, no. 2 (2003): 149, 162, http://www.jstor.org/stable/25066212.
[9] Gerd Heinrich,“Preußische Vorgeschichte,” in Preußen: Geschichte eines Mythos, ed. Julius H. Schoeps (Berlin-Brandenburg: be.bra Verlag, 2001), 14. “kriegerisch,” “zäh,” “tapfer,” “Schriftlosigkeit,” “Heidentum,” “Wildheit.”
[10] Barak Kushner, Thought War: Japanese Imperial Propaganda (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2005), 4.
[11] Ohnuki-Tierney, Cherry Blossoms, 299.
[3] Eiji Oguma, Tanitsu minzoku shinwa no kigen: “Nihonjin” no jigazō no keifu (Tōkyō: Shinyō-sha, 1995), 327.
[4] Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney, Kamikaze, Cherry Blossoms, and Nationalisms: The Militarization of Aesthetics in Japanese History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), 248.
[5] Hans Blumenberg, Work on Myth, trans. Robert M. Wallace (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1985), 34.
[6] Ibid., 149.
[7] Forrest E. Morgan, Compellence and the Strategic Culture of Imperial Japan: Implications for Coercive Diplomacy in the Twenty-First Century (Westport: Praeger Publishers, 2003), 20.
[8] Bitō Masahide and Henry D. Smith, II, “The Akō Incident, 1701-1703,” Monumenta Nipponica 58, no. 2 (2003): 149, 162, http://www.jstor.org/stable/25066212.
[9] Gerd Heinrich,“Preußische Vorgeschichte,” in Preußen: Geschichte eines Mythos, ed. Julius H. Schoeps (Berlin-Brandenburg: be.bra Verlag, 2001), 14. “kriegerisch,” “zäh,” “tapfer,” “Schriftlosigkeit,” “Heidentum,” “Wildheit.”
[10] Barak Kushner, Thought War: Japanese Imperial Propaganda (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2005), 4.
[11] Ohnuki-Tierney, Cherry Blossoms, 299.
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