World War I

While searching through various issues of "The Crisis" for content related to the War, I stumbled upon an article entitled "The Health and Morals of Colored Troops" from vol. 16 no. 4 that made me think more critically about the Keene chapter that we read for this week.  Although Keene is dealing almost exclusively with poster propaganda, "The Health and Morals of Colored Troops" addresses all the ways in which the United States Army is attacking the problem of sexually transmitted infections and diseases that Keene also mentions in her chapter.  As I read through this rather extensive list of actionable items (more STI/STD prevention than what is taught in many schools now), I found myself wondering why a captain in the medical division of the army would feel compelled to share this information with a larger audience than the soldiers the army is trying to protect.  I found myself wondering if this was mean to allay public fears that sending your son off to the army might also mean that he loses not just his health, but his sense of moral rightness.

Complicating this narrative around health and morals is the fact that this article is immediately followed by three pictures of African American nurses marching in various cities throughout the United States.  In almost every picture, the United States flag accompanies the Red Cross flag as the women march down a crowded road.  Although there is no explicit call to action in these photos or even in their descriptions, I think they do hit on what Keene describes in her chapter as using visuals to draw a particular response from viewers.  In this case, these picture show that African American women can also participate in the war effort outside of just conserving food.  Considering that these pictures also follow a lengthy description of all the health services needed to be provided to African American soldiers, I could not help but think the placement of these photos as operating on at least an unconscious level which "The Crisis" readership may or may not recognize.

After reading the June 1918 volume of The Crisis, I decided to glance through later volumes to see what was said about the war as the US continued its involvement. I came across the October 1918 volume, which provides accounts of African American troops fighting in France in the section called "The Looking-Glass" under the header "In France." The reports tells of the troops fighting off "a fierce German attack" and driving the Germans back, and "the French commander of the sector has cited the whole regiment as worthy of receiving the war cross" (276). Other writers go on to describe the general resilience and stellar character of the black troops. 

This type of action in France is something Jennifer D. Keene touches on in her chapter on African American propaganda posters. Keene writes about a Fourth Liberty Loan poster featuring a photograph of black troops receiving honors. Although a mainstream narrative was put forth that they were receiving American honors, "the African American units amassing these honorable combat records were serving under French, not American, command" (Keene 220).

The fact that accounts like this are featured in The Crisis shows the access to, and spreading of, knowledge of what was actually happening abroad. Despite the government's best efforts to portray to African Americans that the American army was effectively utilizing and rewarding black troops, major black publications were putting forth the true nature of these accomplishments. Keene writes that false depictions like the aforementioned poster did the opposite of what was intended, reinforcing "the feeling that prejudice and discrimination within the American army left the vast majority of African American troops digging ditches or unloading ships" (221).

The inclusion of this information shows the importance of black publications like The Crisis for presenting truth to their readers. Along with other volumes, we can see that the contributors had the difficult task of balancing support for the war effort, displeasure with the American government's treatment of African Americans, and the continued hope that participation in the war efforts would result in social and political progress.

In Keene's "Images of Racial Pride..." she makes a concerted effort to prove that black soldiers signed up to serve in World War I with as much an eye on the present need (soldiers on the ground) as their future needs (better status in American politics). Dr. Drouin has been saying the same thing for weeks now. It was interesting that propaganda posters sought to hard to convince African-American citizens explicitly, when they were considered of secondary status at best by the very government that was wooing them for their Saturdays and extra money, but I didn't make out much beyond that.

Then I remembered an article I found last week while looking for columns on feminism. In The Crisis' Christmas edition 1914, they have an opinion column titled "The World War." In it, Dr. Jacques Loeb "analyses with deep insight the 'racial' problem underneath the present war." He spends some time talking about German beliefs in racial superiority, but then the lense is turned inward. The author states "It is hardly necessary to state that by fostering or even tolerating this fetish of racial antipathy we are making it easy for a future militaristic government to induce Americans to go to the front to fight the Japanese" (emphasis mine). 

The fact that The Crisis saw his analysis and put it alongside what The New Bedford Standard "notes the effect of the war on Negro education" is, and The London Evening Standard's remarking "that in the event of a European struggle there was every probability that the French armies in Africa would be dragged into the conflict," shows that black America's worries about their participation in the Great War ran deeper how their soldiers would be treated when they came home. Whereas many of the writers we have read can't seem to get past the idea of if the war will ever end, The Crisis, at least, is looking to the future and seeing nothing good for it.

While browsing The Crisis for interesting pieces relating to Keene's writing on African American pride supporting the war effort, I stumbled upon an editorial in the September 1918 edition, entitled "Our Special Grievances," addressing comments and concerns about an editorial from the July edition, entitled "Close Ranks." Apparently, some of the readers read "Close Ranks" as a change in position from the NAACP and The Crisis to prioritizing the war effort over fighting for African American rights. However, the Crisis editor who penned "Our Special Grievances" insists that they have done no such thing (216). This falls in line with Keene's observation that participation in the war effort was seen as a way to further the civil rights movement (207). Keene further argues that this enthusiasm could later be used for leverage in the post-war civil rights discussion (209), as it would be easier to fight for equality if it was widespread knowledge that the "Colored Man Is No Slacker," as one of the propaganda posters Keene points to so elequently states (225). This enthusiasm in support of the war effort and prioritization of civil rights, according to the editor of The Crisis, are linked, highlighting that "any man or race that seeks to turn his country's tragic predicament to his own personal gain is fatally cheating himself" (216). This editorial ends with "The Crisis says, first your Country, then your Rights" (217), stressing greatly that this is not an either/or situation. I can't help but be kind of impressed with the forethought going into this public support for the war effort. With the gift of hindsight, and the distance being American provides to WWI, being this staunchly supportive of the war seems foolhardy. However, the potential to flip this support in the favor of the African American community is hard to ignore, even in hindsight. It reminds me of the way politicians twist and take advantage of others' support for the invasion of Iraq against them, and The Crisis editors display some incredible forsight by getting on the war effort bandwagon and supporting the United States the way they did.

I thought the December 2017 publication of The Crisis fit particularly well for this week's The Crisis and Keene readings because Emmett Scott has a section called "The Negro and the War Department." When reading Scott's piece in The Crisis, I at first expected it to be a more outright display of dissatisfaction. However, after reading Keene's chapter, I was not surprised. Keene talks about Scott in "Images of Racial Pride: African American Propaganda Posters in the First World War." Keene quotes Scott when discussing some of the posters for the Fourth Liberty Loan posters that depicted black soldiers. Keene notes that while Emmett Scott exalts that the people at home are "duty bound" to help soldiers, the posters do not reflect the fact that most of the African American soldiers from America were actually fighitng in France (Keene 220-1). However, when reading the section from the December 1917 The Crisis, it made sense that Emmett Scott would be supportive of the Liberty Loans because he is cited as being the Special Assistant to the Secretary of War (The Crisis 76). While within his piece he recognizes that anyone who knows the history of African Americans in America know that there will be difficulties with African Americans being in the war, he states that he thinks the Secretary of War is doing what he can to make the African American soldiers be treated as well as possible, but he also notes that he recognizes that the Secretary of War has not recognized specific African American soldiers in any of his talks in the way he has with other soldiers, he has merely said that the race as a whole is doing well (76). This all seems to fit with what Keene is saying, which is that while Scott thought that these posters were okay becuase he saw them as reinforcement that the people at home must take action, others saw it as reinforcement that there was a feeling within the army that African American soldiers were left to do the dirty work of digging trenches and like things (Keene 221). It seems that Emmett Scott's portrayal of the war in his piece is distinctly different from what other people were feeling at the time. It struck me as odd that this would be included within The Crisis. Is it here because of the turn to acceptance of the war that The Crisis took after America entered the war? 

I wish there were names attached to the editorial piece that kicks off the August issue of The Crisis from 1918 (Vo. 16, No. 4). I wonder who was on this editorial board that addressed “the greater crisis” at stake for African Americans during World War I. I’m sure they were prominent African American leaders worth our study today. The column explains why the next issue will include 16 additional pages and result in a slight rise in subscription prices even though times are lean during the war. Under the sub-head “Help Us To Help” reads an excerpt from a petition unanimously adopted by 31 editors at a meeting in Washington — the next three pages lay out why it is important that America not only defeat Germany but that African Americans ride the wave of victory to gain civil rights.

The last paragraph in the left column of page 163 states “We deem it hardly necessary, in view of the untarnished record of Negro American, to reaffirm our loyalty to Our Country and our readiness to make every sacrifice to win this war.” African Americans were ready and willing to fight for the American cause, but the team of 31 editors wanted to make it clear to readers that they should take advantage of the momentum expected to swell after the war to gain new footholds in racial equality. The editors propose three simple requests, better public travel conditions, the acceptance of help regardless of color and the immediate suppression of lynching, to relieve the “natural unrest and apprehension” among African Americans on the home front to “wholeheartedly and unselfishly” “throw their every ounce of effort into this might and righteous war.” The fight for equality and rights did not fade for African Americans when America joined the war, and I think that’s something we often forget looking back a century later. World War I did not equalize the issue of race, and when African Americans were sent to the French lines, the home front was expected to carry on the war at home against discrimination and inequality. How naïve am I to assume that once America joins a war effort, racism no longer becomes a factor — and that goes for any war the U.S. has fought to present. On page 164, the editors declared “First, This is Our Country: We have worked for it, we have suffered for it, we have fought for it.” If America had acknowledged the bravery of African American soldiers and civil rights leaders in 1918, how could this have strengthened war efforts at home across all races and eliminated racial tension in the century to follow?

I happened to come across an interesting Editorial response, titled “To General H.P. McCain,” in The Crisis Vol. 15 No. 4, from February 1918. The response itself deals with a Colonel Charles Young, a black soldier who was repeatedly denied promotion based on his race, despite the recommendation of “Pershing, Roosevelt, Ballou, and a dozen others” (165). What I find most interesting about this response is the rhetoric; or rather, the way the rhetoric of this article has made me reconsider that of the Soldiers Number edition, which came out four months later. Du Bois’ response to General McCain is outraged, vengeful, and accusatory in the best sort of way. It begins, “WE would like to ask the Adjutant General of the United States Army a few questions:” and continues with a numbered list of questions that build in severity, as if a prosecutor were breaking down a key witness, or a drill sergeant were redressing their troops. Young’s name and rank are repeatedly capitalized to impress upon the audience his “quarter century of service”, alongside repeated questions concerning Young’s forced retirement. In the end, Du Bois questions the General’s inherent racism based on being from Louisiana, and suggests that he is “hindering and obstructing the efficiency of the United States Army and its work in this mighty and righteous war” (165). The turn from logos to ethos in the last question of the response works to magnificent effect; it preserves and capitalizes on the rising tension built by the short, punctual, and biting questions, transforming the critique into one that questions McCall’s patriotism and competence to succeed overseas.

Now, compare this to what we see in the Soldiers Number. This issue is focused on showing the part the black soldier is playing in the U.S. and overseas. It focuses on the number of enlisted black men and the reported quality of their service. Clearly this issue is focused on taking pride in the progress that has and is being made, and what that may hint or promise for the future. While I think this rhetorical decision makes sense in context, I still found the juxtaposition of the two articles striking. 

I found Buck's writing quite revelatory. I, for one, think that I have consistently fallen victim to the notion of modernism which I was taught about. As Buck demonstrates, seeing the "victory" of modernist poetic innovations as a kind of foregone conclusion (80). Moreover, because I identify so personally with the jaded disenchantment familiar in so much of modernism, my taste affects (at least partially) any quality judgements that I make. So, I appreciated Buck's urging to examine WWI women writings within their historical context and just within the context which we've been taught to associate with modernism. I'm left wondering though how can we account for the bias of hindsight without discrediting traditionaly favored works? In other words, I want to move past the biases that have flavored my taste (pun intended) without completely dismissing the validity of my taste.

I also really enjoyed reading The Freewoman looking at the issue that we read, as well as a few others, I was struck by the remarkably progressive tone which was taking place at the time, and not just in regards to traditional conceptions of Feminism. The review that West wrote for Owen's Women Adrift reveals a critical voice which is teeming with sarcasm. I certainly feel that I should read more of West's criticism now, partially because her criticism unlike the criticism of Pound and Eliot is not taught (doubtless because English departments of the new critics were not built of her philosophy). As a side note, I got an immense amount of enjoyment from her line: "If I belonged to a sex that was so transparently undesirable, that after only fifty years of the higher education women recoil from it in aversion, I should bury myself tidily in quicklime" (368).

These magazines and journals are so fascinating, and it’s interesting to me that so many masculine topics related to worker strikes or labor would be taken up by women writers instead of men. On page 10 of The Masses issue Vol. 8, No. 12 (1916), there is a short sidebar simply title “Birth Control,” and it begins with the lede “The fight is not yet won by any means.” This column describes the charges and criminal trials against a Jessie Ashley and Ida Rauh for “giving away pamphlets containing scientific information about birth control.” The law deems the information as “obscene,” but whoever wrote the sidebar argues the law is “insane cruelty” and points out that “it is secretly defied by the governing classes before whose judicial representatives these ‘lawbreakers’ (Ashley and Rauh) will be solemnly brought to trial.” Why does this column not have a byline? Is it supposed to be assumed that it was written by a woman and does not need author credit? Or, was the sidebar such a risky piece to print that the writer’s name was not included to protect him or her? There’s a call to action at the beginning of the fourth paragraph: “You can help” by advertising the fight against the law. Readers don’t’ have to “risk their freedom,” but are encouraged to watch the trials of Ashley and Rauh, spread the word and attend the trails in person if possible. There’s even a small memo column below the text that could be filled out and sent to The Masses for updates on the birth control propaganda trial.

I know that this birth control topic does not directly relate to World War I, but it is included in an issue of The Masses that features many war images and articles such as “All Europe isn’t a Battlefield” and “San Francisco and the Bomb.” Birth control is one of the many ways women could fight for equality on the long road to suffrage — by having some say over their bodies and preventing pregnancy if they chose to do so. Two pages down from the birth control sidebar is a war-related sketch illustrating a surprised soldier coming home with his backpack and rifle to find women doing manual labor by loading barrels onto a wagon. The sketch is captioned “T. Atkins, Who Believes that Woman’s Place is in the Home, Returns from the Front and Sees His Wife and Sister.” This issue of The Masses is sending a message of if women are strong enough to do men’s work, then they are equal enough to make choices about their own bodies and practice birth control.

Claire Buck's "British Women's Writing of the Great War," is wroth the read if only because she makes an excellent point about the marginalization of pro-war viewpoints in literary criticism. I, personally, would have never thought of reading the viewpoint of someone who lived through the war and liked it. Maybe it's because, as Buck says, we modern critics have difficulty connecting with someone who supports a war that we know to be so utterly destructive and world-altering. How could you support a war that has a battle anything like the Battle of the Somme? How? Why? Some misguided sense of national heroics and loyalty? 

I think this difficulty for modern readers to connect with pro-war viewpoints explains what Buck describes on page 88 as "the privileging of experience." Why would I read something by someone who didn't live through WWI when I have so many choices of veteran nurses, soldiers, etc. etc. to find and read. Who cares about the boy whose father left for war while he kept going to school, or a woman working at [insert factory job] or the politicians who sat in Parliament and did nothing while men and women died by the milllions. There was a massive war and I can read about Brittain being shot at with artillery during a bombardment or Paul Bäumer's fictionalized actions as written by a WWI veteran. Action, surprise, heroism, martyrdom, death, woosh boom pow. Both Brittain and Bäumer hit every chord you need to hit with a modern reader -- reluctance, bitter cynicism toward a faceless authority, ability and want to help save lives -- but we also get explosions. I never even would have thought about this bias of mine if Buck didn't mention it.

Buck doesn't spend much time on pro-war writers like Mary Agnes Hamilton and Rebecca West. In fact, we get only a few paragraphs on page 102. I'm suddenly very interested in the difference between pro-war poetry and the poetry of soldiers. Is there anything different other than message? Word choice, maybe. I would be particularly interested in if the pro-war writers cling to Victorian writing techniques/tropes. From what we've read so far I've gathered that much as a sort of stereotype of pro-war people. Maybe there's more to it.  

As far as our mandated journey into the MJP, I found an issue of The Little Review: Literature Drama Music Art (Vol. 1, No. 8, March 1915, edited by Margaret C. Anderson). In that issue George Soule writes a short, two page article entitled "New York Letter" (47 - 48). This article is interesting because while the author celebrates "that the New York legislature has decided to submit the question of woman suffrage to popular vote," they are also dismayed "by the revelations of a battle which most of us get into the habit of thinking was fought and won long ago." The rest of the short essay tries to reconcile a world in which women's suffrage is finally being decided upon with a world in which millions are dying in a bloody war. It's a cool look at someone realizing that while a society may take five steps forward in some aspects, it can still be ten steps behind in others. As Soule says, "Everyone is looking for the supremacy of his own pet reform or reaction as a result of the war, and it is banal to indulge in prophecies. Yet it seems to me there will be a great gain in our understanding if we approach the monster with humility. It has, to be sure, shown us the brutality lurking in modern civilization.....Yet why not go a little farther, and blame as well an intellectualism which slides about on the surface of things, a species of reform and enthusiasm which does not bite into the substance of humanity?"