Art and Propaganda

History is in no shortage of instances where art is conveniently appropriated to further one’s own ideologies, or to justify one’s cause as being morally right. 

Perhaps the most notable instance is Hitler’s use of classical music at Nazi rallies, public events, and propaganda films. He was particularly fond of Wagner, whose antisemitism made his music an ideal vehicle for Nazi propaganda.

The Ride of the Valkyries was especially a staple among the Nazis, as it evoked the mental image of mythical and heroic warriors, resonating with the Nazi ideal of strength and purity.

A common theme in art being used as propaganda is in how it defines the world in clear dichotomies — good and evil, heroes and villains, and us and them. 

For instance, Wagner’s portrayal of heroic struggle in the face of overwhelming evil — as in the case of Siegfried battling the forces of darkness in Wagner’s opera The Ring — likely appealed to Hitler’s own vision of Germany as a nation that needed to fight against what he perceived as moral decay, in terms of materialism and decadence, largely due to Jewish influences. 

This isn’t how art should be.

To quote the Russian playwright Anton Chekhov, “The role of the artist is to ask questions, not answer them.” An artist’s job isn’t to simplify the world in monochrome, but to depict it as honestly as possible in all its complex hues and shades. 

Art should always leave us feeling more curious, rather than satisfy us with a two-dimensional understanding or belief about the world we live in. Art that does the latter only lends itself to being exploited as propaganda fodder.

In terms of doing the former, the best example I’ve come across is probably the book Dune by Frank Herbert, which has since been recently adapted into an amazing film series directed by Denis Villeneuve.

A common problem that has been echoed by people who have either read or seen Dune is that the characters are morally ambiguous. But that’s the whole point. 

The story realistically reflects how we, as people, are primarily motivated by our self-interests. When we’re pressured enough by our circumstances, our moral and ethical compass becomes a second-thought.

As such, there are no heroes in Dune. There are only anti-heroes. They are complex individuals, each with their own hidden agendas that we may never so easily pinpoint.

Not only that, Dune, in and of itself, is a criticism on using art as propaganda. In blunt honesty, it particularly unveils how religious psychology works — how religious prophecies and narratives are employed to manipulate and enslave the masses.

We will likely never see Dune be adopted as an ideological symbol in a political rally, or a movement, or a war. Dune refuses to provide easy answers or to dress up complex issues in the comfort of black-and-white narratives. It will always remain a work that challenges us to think deeply about the difficult questions of life, especially power, loyalty, and the consequences of our actions.

In the end, art should push us to question and challenge our assumptions, and to remind us that the world is far messier, far more complicated, and far more nuanced than any single ideology can capture.

If we lose that, then we lose our ability to truly understand the world around us — not as we want it to be, but as it truly is.

And what happens after that? 

Not only do we become intellectually complacent, but our future will no longer be ours to shape, but one imposed on us by those who use art for their own narrow ends.

That’s pretty scary, if you think about it. But you know what’s even scarier than that future? It’s the kind of people we would have to be to accept it.