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WWI: Propaganda & Poetry

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Propaganda and poetry in World War I

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WWI: Propaganda & Poetry

  1. 1. Unit 6: World War I
  2. 2. <ul><li>“ a concerted set of messages aimed at influencing the opinions or behavior of large numbers of people.” ( Wikipedia ) </li></ul><ul><li>Like advertising – tries to convince you of something </li></ul><ul><li>Used by governments to gain support of people </li></ul>
  3. 3. <ul><li>Direct appeal </li></ul><ul><li>Authority </li></ul><ul><li>Hero </li></ul><ul><li>Keep It Simple </li></ul>
  4. 7. <ul><li>French </li></ul><ul><li>“ Cardinal Mercier protects Belgium.” </li></ul><ul><li>Real person who organized resistance to German invasion </li></ul>
  5. 8. <ul><li>German </li></ul><ul><li>“ Go, soldier, and fulfill your duty. Christ, the good shepherd, watch over your flock. Oh Master!  Bring us into your Kingdom, thy will be done, On Earth, as it is in heaven.” </li></ul>Trans. courtesy Bob Shaw
  6. 10. <ul><li>In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. </li></ul><ul><li>We are the dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved, and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. </li></ul><ul><li>Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. </li></ul><ul><li>John McRae b. Nov. 30, 1872 d. Jan. 28, 1918 </li></ul><ul><li>Canadian lt. col. </li></ul><ul><li>Written May, 1915; published Dec. 8, 1915 </li></ul><ul><li>Killed Jan. 28, 1918 </li></ul>
  7. 11. <ul><li>Papaver rhoeas – corn poppy </li></ul><ul><li>Associated with sleep and death (opium); red = blood </li></ul><ul><li>Common weed in Europe </li></ul><ul><li>Grows in disturbed soil </li></ul><ul><li>Became symbol of dead soldiers </li></ul>
  8. 14. <ul><li>… </li></ul><ul><li>Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! –  An ecstasy of fumbling,  Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;  But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,  And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .  Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,  As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.  In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,  He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.  </li></ul><ul><li>If in some smothering dreams you too could pace  Behind the wagon that we flung him in,  And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,  His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;  If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood  Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,  Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,  My friend, you would not tell with such high zest   To children ardent for some desperate glory,  The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est  Pro patria mori. </li></ul><ul><li>Wilfred Owen b. March 18, 1893 d. Nov. 4, 1918 </li></ul><ul><li>British </li></ul><ul><li>Killed 1 week before the armistice </li></ul><ul><li>Written Oct. 1917-March 1918 </li></ul><ul><li>Published posthumously 1920 </li></ul><ul><li>Quotes a poem of Horace </li></ul>

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