Myth as Propaganda in World War I

Introduction: Myth and Journalism History

Communication scholars in the last half century have shown strong interest in the development of myth as it relates to journalism. The concept was originally investigated by scholars working in sociology, psychology, or semiotics, but these writers found frequent application to mass media. Semiologist Roland Barthes is perhaps most well known for his early work in this area, studying how myth can be applied to a variety of mass-media-related areas in culture. “Myth is a system of communication,” emphasized Barthes (1957), who argued the relationship between myth and history, noting, “Myth has the task of giving an historical intention a natural justification” (p. 142). Anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss explained that the function of myth was to “naturalize the cultural—in other words, to make dominant cultural and historical values, attitudes and beliefs seem entirely natural, normal, self-evident, timeless, obvious common sense” (Chandler, 2007, p. 145). McLuhan considered “the joint evolution of mythology and media” (DeFehr, 2010, p. 29), while Carey observed that news is a ritual, part of an age-old practice of story-telling (Bird & Dardenne, 1988, p. 70). Some scholars have identified in Carey’s writing on myth and news the influence of Kenneth Burke, who saw myth as stories and stories as “strategies for life” (Lule, 2002, p. 280). Myths, as these scholars defined them, are stories (Silverstone, 1988).

These scholars defined myth differently from that presumed by the person on the street: a fable, legend, or parable (Armstrong, 2005, p. 7; Chandler, 2007, p. 142; Radford, 2003, p. 11). Writing an introduction to a Journalism & Mass Communication Quarterly issue devoted to myth and journalism, editor Linda Steiner observed, “the crudest and most common reference to myth is as a false, albeit fabulous story” (Steiner, 2002, p. 270).

It is perhaps this familiar definition of myth that has kept many journalism historians from considering myth as a possible lens through which to examine primary sources. If a myth is something that is not true, then it has no place within our modern approach to historical study.

If we approach myth not as fiction, but as narrative, however, it seems possible to apply it to research in journalism history. For historians myth, as Heehs considered it, is “a set of propositions, often stated in narrative form, that is accepted uncritically by a culture or speech-community and that serves to found or affirm its self-conception” (Heehs, 1994, p. 3). Heehs contended that history and myth can be considered together if myth is defined not as a sort of unicornish story, but “as any set of unexamined assumptions . . . . Much so-called factual history is interfused with such assumptions” (Heehs, 1994, p. 1). Historians, like journalists, construct such myths, as writers build a narrative. We must build a narrative to make any sense at all. We pluck from the vast sea of events to construct a story. Historians and journalists alike work from two pools: the story of what happened and what actually did happen. Neither creator can include every detail, just as no artist can paint every detail on even the most meticulous canvas. “Even the most empirical chroniclers,” observed Lowenthal (1985), “invent narrative structures to give a shape to time” (p. 218). Construction of narrative can build structure out of complexity, a story acceptable to our cultural presumptions based on time and place. “History is persuasive because it is organized by and filtered through individual minds, not in spite of that fact,” wrote Lowenthal (1985). “Subjective interpretation gives it life and meaning” (Lowenthal, 1985, p. 218). Myths may spring not from objective existence, but from imagination, yet they are necessary, as “they gave us a sense that, against all the depressing and chaotic evidence to the contrary, life had meaning and value” (Armstrong, 2005, p. 2). Journalists are compelled to give meaning and value to events, and so in a similar way distill events into a narrative matching expectations of readers. They affirm social order and celebrate predominant values of a culture. “News and myth are seen as societal stories that confirm and proclaim the values and beliefs of a people,” observed journalism historian Jack Lule (2002, p. 278). The myth-making process “reassures by telling tales that explain baffling or frightening phenomena and provides acceptable answers” (Bird & Dardenne, 1988, p. 70).

Lule (2002) used narrative myth to consider response of the New York Times to the World Trade Center attacks. He pointed out that myth as narrative has played a pivotal role throughout history: “If we accept seriously the premise of a mythological role for journalism, then we must consider news on these terms” (Lule, 2002, p. 287). Journalism historian Carolyn Kitch (2002) considered myth as narrative for her analysis of news following the death of John F. Kennedy; Jr. Kitch emphasized that through myth, her work approached journalism history as an examination of the social function of journalism, “unifying readers into communities and nations, articulating and affirming group values and identity” (p. 296). These constructed narratives used myth to find role models for life.

Both historians identified in their sources the construction of a mythical narrative familiar through many cultures and time periods: the hero (Kitch, 2002, p. 295; Lule, 2002). Edward Alwood (2010), another journalism historian who has considered narrative myth, discovered the hero in his work on a Cold War correspondent (p. 264). That discovery was not surprising; psychologist Joseph Henderson (1964) noted, “The myth of the hero is the most common and best known myth in the world” (p. 110). The hero narrative, as Lule’s examination of Times editorials emphasized, twins the myth of hero with the requirement of sacrifice. The power of this myth, he concluded, “inspires people to go to war, to sacrifice their very lives to kill and to die in the name of myth” (Lule, 2002, p. 287).

War and Myth

In World War I, this myth gave power to propaganda aimed at maintaining support for a cataclysm of total war. Few journalism historians have examined myth-making among the press of World War I. ¹ It is, however, well established that war creates mythic narratives. Mythic war narratives celebrate the hero: his sacrifice, his nobility as a soldier, his proud masculinity, and transformation from callow youth to real man. The hero myth is part of the cult of the fallen soldier as religious and patriotic martyr that drove people’s thoughts both during the world war and in its memory after.

War myths are often associated with conservative politics. In France, before 1914, it was a particularly popular theme of the nationalist right (Darrow, 1996, pp. 81-82). Ellwood (1999) noted the heroic individualism of the American hero ideal has sometimes been associated with the extreme political right (p. vii). Fussell (1975) served to establish a generation of scholarship regarding war, myth, and memory. Leed (1979) established a definition of war myth not as fantasy, but a narrative to fulfill a need of society.

Mosse (1990) made an extensive examination of myth and World War I. Fallen Soldiers expands on his 1986 article emphasizing the relationship of propaganda and myth. His “myth of the war experience” emphasized the role soldiers played in establishing myths that served to brutalize politics during the interwar years (Mosse, 1986). Mosse contended the war was transformed into myth to make acceptable an incomprehensibly hideous experience. Aspects of myth included construction of the hero to recast war as a religious experience and to extend spiritual myth to a religion of nationalism through the cult of the fallen soldier, thus “sanctifying” the war (Mosse, 1990, p. 7). War reporter Hedges (2002) more recently considered the “mythic reality” of war, emphasizing that “in mythic war we fight absolutes” (p. 21). That the myths do not reflect the reality of war experience, Hedges observed, is beside the point: They are constructed to give justification as heroic endeavor. War myth is established in society by government and media through propaganda (Hedges, 2002).

Propaganda and American Volunteers

World War I leaders sought to refine techniques of modern industrial propaganda through mass media into operations of enormous scope and complexity. ² The term grew into discredit after the war but has since been resurrected by scholars who argue the definition should include a variety of persuasive techniques (Jowett & O’Donnell, 2006). It has even been argued that propaganda was produced by those who were its ostensible target (Audoin-Rouzeau & Becker, 2002; Collins, 2011). In this article, however, propaganda is defined in a more traditional way, techniques of persuasion emanating from opinion leaders, particularly the government and media.

This historical research builds on the literature of myth, war, and international journalism. It investigates the power of myth as propaganda and how this was constructed using a specific segment of Americans: those who volunteered in France during World War I. Although the United States was neutral from August 1914 to April 1917, several thousand young Americans from mostly elite families volunteered to fight for the Allies. A number of them died. It considers these men as the press portrayed them in the country they adopted as volunteers, France. Historians have studied these volunteers. ³ But research has not considered their propaganda role. ⁴

How were American volunteers covered in the Paris press—if at all—and in what ways—if at all—did they contribute to myth-building within French journalism? We need to include “if at all” because no historian has considered coverage of American volunteers in the French press. The goal, then, is not only to assess material through the lens of myth and propaganda but to establish the extent that the volunteers were considered worthy of attention. As we commemorate the centennial of the Great War’s outbreak, it seems worthwhile to consider this aspect of U. S. participation. We know what the volunteers did and what influence they had militarily in France—not much, actually. But we do not know what role they played in France as propagandists and myth builders.

Examined were nine important dailies in Paris during the war years, reflecting a variety of circulations and political perspectives. These titles were consulted: L’Action Française, Le Croix, L’Echo de Paris, L’Humanité, Le Journal des Débats Politiques et Littéraires, Le Matin, Le Petit Journal/Le Petit Journal du Dimanche, Le Petit Parisien, and Le Temps. Also examined are relevant dates of La Guerre Aérienne Illustrée, a weekly established at the end of 1916. Four of these were among the “five greats” of Paris newspaper circulation: L’Echo de Paris, Le Matin, Le Petit Journal, and Le Petit Parisien (Bellanger, Godechot, Guiral, & Terrou, 1972, p. 297). Dominant was Le Petit Parisien, which in 1918 reached a daily circulation of 1.7 million, the world’s largest. Le Matin stood at 1 million, Le Petit Journal, 500,000. Le Temps, though circulating about 55,000 in 1918, was quasi-official publisher for French foreign policy widely read in France and abroad. ⁵ The Journal des Débats was a more academic news journal also read by political elite, L’Humanité was socialist, Le Croix was Catholic and conservative, and L’Echo de Paris and L’Action Française published influential writers. During this period, small circulations did not necessarily signal small influence (Bellanger et al., 1972; Charle, 2004; De Chambure, 1918).

In a country based on centralized political power from Paris, the city’s press carried broad national importance. In particular, Le Petit Parisien reached nearly everywhere in France (Amaury, 1972). As for other newspapers, De Chambure wrote that in 1918, their influence extended to about 300 km from Paris. Farther than that, logistics made timely circulation more difficult. However, “it’s the great press of Paris which inspires the majority of departmental and regional newspapers; there is not one of them that does not reprint their articles and does not submit to their influence” (De Chambure, 1918, p. 182). As Berenson (1992, p. 209) noted, press influence during this time was unprecedented, having “what may well have been a historically unique power to shape popular culture and public opinion.” The press, concluded De Chambure (1918), was the guide to public opinion during the war. But particularly during World War I the press was shaped by the country’s opinion leaders.

The researcher evaluated all material around key dates as described below from August 1914 to April 1917, as well as by keyword. Eighty-one articles were identified. ⁶

American Volunteers and the French Press

Of the estimated 3,600 volunteers, the majority served around Verdun. Most came from the upper classes, usually from prestigious universities. ⁷ They served in three principal roles: as ambulance drivers behind or close to the front, as soldiers for the Foreign Legion at the front, and as aviators flying above the front. Of about 128 in combat roles, ⁸ 90 served in the Foreign Legion—and only about 38 as aviators in the Escadrille Américaine. ⁹ The fame of these volunteers likely played a propaganda role in the United States. Those who promoted volunteer operations believed so (Andrew, 1916; Jusserand, 1918; “La section sanitaire américaine en France,” 1915; McConnell, 1915; Morse, 1922; Vanderbilts, 1917). ¹⁰

During the war, the French press came under near total control of the government through a wide network of censorship and propaganda. Journalists were most sensitive to political censorship, by 1915 evolving to cover nearly anything authorities thought might disturb morale or damage support for war (Collins, 1992). But control of the press was difficult to separate from control of government. Le Petit Journal and Le Petit Parisien were run by parliamentarians. Director of Le Petit Journal was Stéphen Pichon, foreign affairs minister and friend of Georges Clémenceau. It was Pichon who was approached by the Americans hoping for help to establish the escadrille, according to the squad’s French commander (Thénault, 1921). Jean Dupuy, proprietor of Le Petit Parisien, was a deputy, as were his assistants, brothers Pierre and Paul, and son-in-law Arago (De Chambure, 1918). André Tardieu was foreign editor of the influential Temps. He played a variety of key roles during the war, moving from soldier to politician to journalist to heading the army’s first public relations office (Binion, 1960; Collins, 1992). André Billy, one of the country’s well-known journalists who took time off to join the government’s staff of censors, left in 1915 to join L’Oeuvre (Berger & Allard, 1932). In fact, a contemporary source noted half of French deputies also wrote for or directed newspapers (Galabru, 1918). Clemenceau became prime minister in 1917 largely based on the power of his journalism. Although the widely intertwined relationships did sometimes encourage corruption (as also did weak advertising), the supposed “abominable venality” of French journalism during this period has been nuanced in recent scholarship (Collins, 2007, p. 103). One conclusion from this complex arrangement seems reasonable: During World War I, the press mostly reflected the needs of its government and censorship boards.

At the war declaration, many Americans living in France volunteered service through both combat and assistance for wounded. In the United States, some boarded ships bound for France. The Paris press ignored these efforts, with one exception: Le Temps. This Paris newspaper of record (Bellanger et al., 1972) beginning in August covered volunteer efforts, mostly emphasizing Americans. On August 7, the newspaper noted more than 200 expatriates in Paris had formed a volunteer corps (“Les corps de voluntaries,” 1914). On August 14, an article announced a newly formed Committee of American Volunteers Corps was authorized to train recruits; Americans who wished to join could prepare for service under Charles Sweeney, a West Point cadet, or W. B. Hill, an American army aviator. A medical examiner declared the Americans to be particularly fit: “All the American volunteers, come specially from America to fight under our flag . . . were declared ready for service” (“Les voluntaires étrangers,” 1914, p. 3). Despite U.S. neutrality, on August 28, Le Temps reported that volunteers walked from the recruitment office to Les Invalides; as they walked, passers-by “saluted the United States flag, the folds of which resembled the French tricolor.” They boarded a train to Rouen for training (“Les voluntaires étrangers,” 1914). ¹¹ Le Temps in 1914 also considered American efforts to establish a hospital for soldiers. The U.S. chamber of commerce had taken the initiative, according to the article. “Two hundred thousand dollars are requested immediately and 300,000 dollars later will be necessary to install and keep up a hospital of 1,000 beds for six months,” according to an interview with B. J. Shoninger (Le Temps, 1914, p. 4). Shoninger along with Herman Harjes and other prominent Americans established the American Relief Clearing House early in the war (Mitchell, 1922, Appendix 1).

The government evacuated Paris for Bordeaux in September, returning in November. Many Paris newspapers, including Le Temps, followed. After the evacuation, news of American volunteers no longer appeared in Le Temps and the rest of the Paris press examined for this research. Almost none appeared in the first half of 1915 as well. However, volunteers had become part of the Foreign Legion and had established an extensive ambulance service behind the lines. In April 1915, the suspicious French military finally allowed 10 Ford ambulances driven by Americans to approach the front (Galatti, 1916). ¹²

A single report covering American volunteers did appear March 8, 1915, in Le Matin. The article considered the spectrum of American relief operations, emphasizing hospitals, and concluding, “The French people will keep always the memory of what the Americans have done for our soldiers, for our wounded, for their families” (“Le magnifique élan. L’Amérique veut aider les français en guerre,” 1915, p. 3). But it made no mention of combatants or volunteer losses. In September 1915, Henry Weston Farnsworth, a Harvard graduate who fought with the Foreign Legion, died in battle. His loss was not noticed in the press until November 1916, and then as part of a political speech. Notice appeared again in 1920. But at the university, the death was commemorated as one of considerable importance: Harvard dedicated a reading room to Farnsworth in December 1916 (“Un soldat américain mort pour la France,” 1920; Lamont Library, Harvard University Libraries, 2013).

As for the ambulance services, the newspapers seldom considered them until late in the neutral period, despite growth into three separate operations. These employed hundreds of American volunteers and, by summer 1916, were credited with having evacuated 150,000 wounded, according to a New York Times report (“Ambulance Corps in France Filmed,” 1916). L’Humanité on October 5, 1915, did take notice of an American report originally published in Outlook (McConnell, 1915) by aviator James McConnell. The French newspaper observed that Theodore Roosevelt writing in the article’s preface “encouraged young university men to take advantage of this opportunity to make themselves useful to the cause of civilization.” J. Piatt Andrew, a former Harvard assistant professor and friend of Tardieu, was given credit for his work in France. The newspaper emphasized that the Outlook article was “designed to popularize among the American people the enterprising work” (“La section sanitaire américaine en France,” 1915, p. 2). Despite these exceptions, generally, the Paris press ignored American volunteers during almost the first half of the war.

Chapman’s Death and the Hero Myth: Summer 1916 to Early 1917

Scattered reports before 1916 did not establish a hero myth. But in June 1916, coverage of American volunteers became widespread. The date is significant: It followed the death of aviator Victor Chapman on June 24, 1916. Chapman was first to perish in the new American aviation squad formed that spring. Le Petit Parisien had presaged the aviators’ activity in its announcement 2 months earlier. Writing April 24, 1916, the newspaper described the group’s inception. It emphasized the squad’s initial success based on military honors given to William Thaw, Elliot Cowdin, and Norman Prince. “Now the squad of fighter pilots is the first Franco-American escadrille, set up, equipped and armed . . . . They are going to fight as a group under the command of a French officer in charge” (“Une escadrille franco-américaine vient d’être constituée,” 1916, p. 2). Streckfuss contended the French military actually allowed the Americans to set up the escadrille not for its military value but to reap a likely propaganda bonanza (Streckfuss, 2011). ¹³

Chapman was not mentioned nor was he mentioned in a story describing exploits of the squad on May 29 (“Les exploits de l’escadrille américaine d’aviation,” 1916). But that summer, his name would become the foundation to build a hero myth in the Paris press using the volunteers. The Paris newspapers probably had no correspondents covering the volunteers. But U.S. press coverage of the aviators “had become a matter of routine,” noted a historian of the squad (Robertson, 2003, p. 112). New York newspapers appear to have been first to report Chapman’s death on June 24 (“N.Y. Flyer Meets Heroic Death in Air Battle,” 1916). Most of the Paris press had picked up the story by June 25 or 26, using narrative of the hero myth to describe Chapman, his “magnificent courage” and “glorious death.” Le Petit Parisien on page one reworked the formerly obscure American volunteer into a symbol of myth and tied it to an assertion of amity between France and the still neutral United States: “His death in such circumstances highlights the heroism that citizens of the United States deploy to defend the cause of France, and in a fashion tragic and glorious, the traditional friendship of the two countries” (“Mort glorieuse sur notre front d’un aviateur américain,” 1916, p. 1).

This prominent obituary marked the beginning of Chapman myth-making in the French press. Fame of the dead aviator grew to assume a pivot around which politicians, journalists, and pro-war Americans could build a propaganda campaign against American neutrality. A few days later, during a Paris commemoration of American Independence Day, French reporters were on hand for speeches from a number of dignitaries. Chapman became the focus. Speakers built on extensive press coverage of Chapman’s death. “No American,” declared Walter Berry, “is dying in the trenches fighting for pangermanism. No ‘Chapman’ is giving his life for the divine right of kings” (“L’anniversaire de l’indépendence des Etats-Unis,” 1916, p. 3). American expat artist Ernest Peixotto suggested, “The great Lafayette offered his sword for American independence and, yesterday, sergeant Chapman, a volunteer American aviator, gave, modestly, his life for the independence of Lafayette’s fatherland” (“France et Amérique. Un discours de M. Briand,’ 1916, p. 1). ¹⁴ The Marquis de Lafayette, Revolutionary hero figure who served in Washington’s Continental Army, symbolically tied the United States and France in patriotic commitment to democracy; Lafayette also was a key figure in the French Revolution. Prime Minister Aristide Briand joined the voices connecting Chapman to the hero myth. Briand concluded,

I cannot forget that among those who are associated with your volunteers, and also your audacious aviators who, like the heroic lieutenant Chapman, are a living symbol of American idealism, are raising the level of our cause to the point of giving their lives for it.

A Journal des Débats writer called the three speeches “profoundly moving” (“L’âme américaine,” 1916, p. 1). Chapman was the first volunteer recognized by France’s prime minister and was becoming a familiar name in French journalism.

Chapman’s growing conversion in the Paris press, from just another death among hundreds of thousands, into a knight of heroic myth, perhaps was primed by growing French press interest in aviation by 1916. This reflected the inspiration that the pilots gave to the home fronts of belligerent and neutral nations alike. Commonly, they inspired writers as “knights of the air,” in Germany, Britain, France, and the United States; John Jay Chapman wrote that his son becoming an aviator “was, to him, like being made a knight” (Streckfuss, 2011, p. 115). ¹⁵ Streckfuss noted the “knights” of World War I have attracted popular interest for nearly a century. ¹⁶

Le Petit Journal in April published two front-page stories about French pilots. Le Petit Journal’s Sunday supplement in August featured French aviators. Le Petit Parisien carried numerous stories, featuring on its front page in September the French ace Georges Guynemer (Passim 1916a, 1916b, 1916c). At the end of the year, a weekly magazine was launched expressly to feature the war in the air, La Guerre Aérienne Illustrée. On July 1, 1916, Le Petit Parisien in a page-one story considered the heroic actions of all the American group, announcing promotions for aviators William Thaw, Kiffin Rockwell, and Bert Hall, and offering more detail on Chapman’s last battle. ¹⁷

It was Chapman, however, who would become the new Lafayette. If an American volunteer could be tied to the historic hero, he might serve a role as propagandist for a U.S.–France alliance. Chapman in French press reports was first compared to Lafayette during his commemoration at the revolutionary leader’s burial place: “The traditional ceremony took on a particular character of grandeur as the pious crowd united in their thoughts these two names: Lafayette and Chapman.” In religious reflection, the report continued, “before leaving this field of rest, the group had, at St. Trinity Episcopal Church, avenue de l’Alma, prayed for the rest of the soul of Chapman, humble American volunteer” (“France et Amérique. Un discours de M. Briand,” 1916, p. 1). On July 8, 1916, Le Journal des Débats reported that French president Raymond Poincaré sent a telegram to Chapman’s father reading, “I wish to give to you a testimony of my sympathy and salute to your son, who died for a cause most just, worthy of emulation as a brother in arms of Lafayette” (“La guerre aerienne,” 1916, p. 2).

There might have been other candidates for the honor. The Chapman report appeared just 4 days after Foreign Legion volunteer Alan Seeger, Harvard graduate and prominent poet, also had died in action. But while French journalists and politicians promoted Chapman as a worthy heir of Lafayette’s heroism, the death of Seeger on July 4 was not reported until 2 months later (“Aux Etats-Unis. Les fêtes du ‘La Fayette Day,’” 1916; Forest, 1916). Seeger’s death was different in three ways. Seeger had not been an aviator, and the French press had by now generally abandoned heroic depictions of trench soldiers. He had been in the Foreign Legion, and while that was the only way open to volunteers, even some French military commanders admitted the legion suffered from an image problem (Thénault, 1921). And last, Seeger did not have a prominent father to promote his posthumous hero status. John Jay Chapman built on the growing myth surrounding his son to advance pro-Allied propaganda.

Chapman’s journalistic evolution into myth continued through widespread French press reports during the rest of 1916. These accompanied building press recognition of the role American volunteers were playing generally for the war. Chapman’s biography in Le Temps emphasized noble heritage. Emile Boutroux (1916) wrote that John Jay Chapman was a descendent of John Jay, whom Boutroux identified as an author of the Declaration of Independence. ¹⁸ His son represented one of “a number of American citizens, ranging in the thousands, come to join battle in our ranks and intrepidly, one might say even briskly, shedding their blood for our cause” (Boutroux, 1916, p. 2). ¹⁹

The actions of Victor Chapman’s father are significant to the aviator’s heroic transformation in the press but John Jay Chapman has not before been mentioned in scholarship of aviation as propaganda. John became a prominent pro-war hawk who, like Roosevelt, wanted to see his government abandon neutrality. John was not long in using French sympathies as propaganda. After his son’s death, the New York press sought comment from the prominent lawyer and author. The New York Tribune noted that Victor’s parents, “at Barrytown, N.Y., today received the news of their son’s death with great calmness . . . . ‘My son’s life was given to a good cause’” (“New York Aviator Killed in Battle Over Verdun,” 1916, p. 8). Paul Leroy-Beaulieu, one of France’s prominent public intellectuals, wrote a condolence letter. He was serving as president of the French Union of Fathers and Mothers Whose Sons Have Died for Their Country. ²⁰ John responded in a public letter published generally. “I was craving,” he wrote, “to see America take, for the good of its soul, some part in this terrible battle between light and darkness.” John Jay Chapman built on religious metaphors to establish a mythical meaning for his son’s service. The words suggest the myth of the war experience as described by Mosse (1990), and its propaganda value in a nation still predominantly Catholic. ²¹ “It is only in taking part in the sorrow of this war that our country (the United States) can participate in the benedictions that will germinate from this tragedy. It is a kind of universal sacrament.” John clearly intended the “letter” to circulate widely; according to the article, he himself forwarded copies to the press in France and in the United States (“La mort glorieuse de l’aviateur Américain Chapman,” 1916, p. 4; “L’Union des pères et des mères dont les fils sont morts pour la patrie à la Sorbonne,” 1916, p. 3).

Le Temps contributed to the Christian theme by pointing out (incorrectly) that Chapman was “the only son of J. J. Chapman.” In a country of Catholic heritage, French readers would undoubtedly be familiar with the wording from the biblical gospel of John, the Father giving his only son (“Mort glorieuse d’un aviateur américain,” 1916). ²²

Chapman’s evolution to heroic martyr continued in the French press through the summer and autumn. Le Journal des Débats in August reported Roosevelt had given homage to Chapman in a Collier’s article, “The Lafayettes of the Air” (“Hommage de M. Roosevelt aux aviateurs américains en France,” 1916, p. 4). The idea of Lafayette embodied in American aviation volunteers spread from Chapman himself to his squad. The American escadrille was officially renamed Escadrille Lafayette in December 1916, one reflection of tremendous patriotic interest the aviators had gathered among Americans. The name change also served a practical purpose; Germany complained that the overtly American squad violated neutrality treaties (Robertson, 2003). A September speech by French ambassador Jean Jules Jusserand widely reported in the Paris press included another reference to Chapman, just as America’s other volunteers were starting to see notice. Jusserand acknowledged the volunteers, “Americans giving their force, their money and their lives, such as the aviator Chapman, the ambulance driver Hall, and the legionnaire Seeger (“Etats-Unis. Le ‘La Fayette day,’” 1916, p. 2).

Growing Interest in American Volunteers

Although Chapman dominated coverage of volunteers in summer 1916, Seeger’s death just after Chapman’s was not reported. But weeks later in Le Matin, Louis Forest wrote that Seeger, “who was at a perilous post, thought that perhaps he was going to die.” Forest (1916) quoted Seeger as saying, “I like to believe that if my blood has the privilege of being shed where the blood of French soldiers has flowed I will not have entirely disappeared from the earth” (p. 2).

Paris newspapers broadened their reports of aviation volunteers that autumn. Aviator Kiffin Rockwell’s death came in September: “Rockwell is, after lieutenant ²³ Chapman, the second American to fall, as an aviator, at our front in service to France” (“La guerre aerienne. Mort d’un aviateur américain sur le front français,” 1916, p. 2). In October, the Echo de Paris (“Le palmarès de nos ‘As.’ Le nouveau promu,” 1916) announced that “the American escadrille is filled with joy,” as Raoul Lufbery had downed his fifth enemy plane (p. 2). The death of aviator Norman Prince was also reported in Le Journal des Débats in October (“Mort d’un aviateur américain,” 1916). Under the headline “Emulating Chapman,” Le Petit Parisien (“Un Emule de Chapman. L’aviateur américain Prince meurt aussi pour la France,” 1916) wrote, “Prince has found, in the battlefield of the air, a glorious death for the France he loved and which he had made his second fatherland” (p. 1).

As American neutrality began to disintegrate by the end of 1916, the French press expanded reports of volunteers and their contributions. On November 1, a photo of Rockwell accompanied the first extensive page-one general story on American volunteers, in Le Petit Parisien. Of 300 U.S. citizens fighting for the French, the newspaper reported 100 had been wounded, and 25 had died. Why, the author asked, did they fight? “Some—very few—are engaged for love of war; witness one young chevron-wearer of 17 years who confided, yesterday evening, to a comrade: ‘I love to fight; I love to charge, but the trenches are so boring!’” Perhaps a dozen others according to the writer, politician, and former soldier Gaston Riou (1916), were fighting for the “magnificent theatre of adventure” (p. 1). But the majority came for love of France and justice, a class of wealthy intellectuals fighting for France.

Riou claimed evidence based on his reading of the letters volunteers wrote. Chapman was again spotlighted, but also mentioned was Kenneth Weeks, who had died unacknowledged in June 1915. Weeks was described as an author and philosopher; Prince, a Boston millionaire; Seeger, a poet; Kiffin Rockwell, descendant of William the Conqueror. Depicted using words of heroic myth, they became “the elite of the elite of America,” and, according to those who knew them, Chapman and Rockwell were “the most noble of men that I have ever met in my life. . . . Such is the moral grandeur of Chapman, of Weeks, of Seeger, of Rockwell, of Prince and their emulators: they are the martyrs of civilization” (Riou, 1916, p. 1).

The extensive network of ambulance operations never did grow to match scope of French press coverage of the aviators. In April 1916, Le Petit Parisien acknowledged American ambulance services in a page-one story.

These are, then, the women and men ambulance drivers and the volunteers, tall blond adolescents, clear metallic eyes sparking with energy, freshmen or seniors from Harvard, or from West Point, of whom several, alas! like young Hall or young Sweeney have paid for their love of us with their lives. (Basch, 1916, p. 1)

In August, Le Journal des Débats provided numbers: The American Relief Clearing House now had 170 ambulances, soon to be increased to 225; volunteers represented 44 U.S. universities and colleges, “the largest number from Harvard, 104, then Yale, 30.” Harjes was credited with two corps of volunteer ambulances (“Echos,” 1916).

In late 1916, another prominent politician, former war minister Alexandre Millerand, recognized the American Relief Clearing House and other charity and ambulance work, as well as the volunteers in combat, “in the ranks of the Foreign Legion as well as our aviators” (“L’effort de la France et de ses alliés. L’effort charitable des Etats-Unis. Conference de M. Millerand,” 1916, p. 2). Millerand’s list of Americans who had died included “Chapman” and “Rockwell,” by now apparently so familiar that he did not include first names, as well as Prince, and legionnaires Seeger, Farnsworth, and René Phélizot. No ambulance drivers were included, despite that by this time many had been wounded; three had died in service (Morse, 1922). The press did not establish a heroic myth based on American ambulanciers. But they did reach hero status in the United States. ²⁴ However, they did not die in combat or perhaps were overshadowed by the dramatic appeal of aviation.

By early 1917, the aviators were joined by the other American volunteers in public commemoration described in the press. The Comedie-Française in an event scheduled for January 21, 1917, was to feature René Besnard, French under secretary of state for war, “giving solemn homage to the American volunteers who are fighting and who have died for France.” A delegation of volunteer aviators, legionnaires, and ambulance drivers was expected, and Andrew would be recognized as director of the ambulance services. “A plaque, made specially for the ceremony, will be given to each spectator; it contains poems by volunteer Alan Seeger, died during the Somme offensive, which will be recited by M. Silvain and Mme. Weber.” To be noted, however, is that despite the story’s emphasis on all volunteers, the headline read, “In honor of American aviators” (“Le matinée de la Comedie-Française en l’honneur des aviateurs américains,” 1917, p. 2; researcher’s emphasis). The January 11, 1917, edition of La Guerre Aerienne Illustré, featured on its cover six American aviators above the caption, “Those who fight and die for France.”

In April 1917, French newspapers announced the Victor Chapman Scholarship, spearheaded by a contribution from Chapman’s father, who worked toward raising US$25,000 to bring a French student to Harvard. Emile Legouis, a Sorbonne professor administering the award, reminded readers that this was the father “whose son gave his life for us, [and] we still owe him as our creditor.” Legouis (1917) continued in religious appeal to extoll John “for this cause in which he sacrificed his son” (p. 3). ²⁵

Conclusion

Coverage of American volunteers in the French press began slowly. One can identify no emerging narrative during the first few months of war. Only Le Temps in August 1914 presented scattered reports. After fall 1914 and for a year and a half, it ignored volunteers, as mostly did the rest of the press. In early 1916, French journalists showed a growing interest. One possible reason may relate to the Verdun offensive that began February 21. The grim reality of the war could no longer be hidden from the French. French home front mood reflected high anxiety over the outcome of the battle. As well, German aviators had deployed deadly new planes and tactics above Verdun (Robertson, 2003). Although censors would have eliminated this from published material, soldiers on leave undoubtedly told relatives and friends. It was becoming clear to the French police charged with surveillance of public opinion that morale was deteriorating. Defeatism seemed to be growing (Archives Départementales, Marseilles; Lerner, 1978). In early 1916, the new Maison de la Presse in Paris began a more organized attempt to enlist the press as, according to the military’s press relations office, journalists must be not only controlled but also directed (Service Historique de l’Armée de la Terre, Paris).

First focus of the expanded press information service was the Verdun sector. This was also where most American volunteers served, including the aviators. French soldier-reporters covered Verdun extensively; they likely took notice of American efforts (Collins, 1992). It is reasonable that the new French propagandists would look to the American volunteers, particularly aviators, as a response to growing public gloom in 1916.

The French soldiers themselves could no longer provide a basis for heroic narratives in the French press by 1916 (Charle, 2004). Everybody knew by now that trenches were pathetically unheroic. To uphold clearly sagging morale became “a matter of primary importance,” noted Becker (1985, p. 63) and so the French press turned to a new class of heroes in airplanes. This suggests that the heroic treatment of volunteers beginning in 1916 played primarily to propaganda: Authorities could both divert attention from the great slaughter of 1916 while at the same time build on the efforts of volunteers to push America off neutrality. (Collins, 1992). Shining a journalistic spotlight on American volunteers could not only bolster French morale but influence American opinion. Edwin Parsons, another escadrille aviator, suggested that this was why French military relented to establishing the squad of volunteers that, practically speaking, was unnecessary. ²⁶ Tardieu (1921) believed stories of the escadrille in America “had—I could see that for myself—a great moral influence” (p. ix). Given Tardieu’s presence as minister, deputy, propagandist, and journalist (Binion, 1960), it does not seem far-fetched to presume he had a role in guiding that influence. Writing in 1922, Lippmann argued that glamorizing the aviators distracted the home front from the horror, offered emotional identification, and helped to bring the United States into the war.

French press coverage grew after a unique event, the launch of the Escadrille américaine. The Allies had seen nothing like this. Formation coincided with the burgeoning narrative that celebrated aviators as knights of an otherwise balefully anonymous industrial war. Chapman’s death came at a time auspicious for those in France and the United States who sought to build on efforts of volunteers as propaganda. In writing Chapman into a fallen hero, coverage transformed him into a mythic narrative. Through Chapman, the brutality of the war could be transformed into spiritual sacrifice, supreme effort toward a noble quest. Chapman became part of a sacred experience, providing the nation with “a new depth of religious feeling, putting at its disposal ever-present saints and martyrs” (Mosse, 1990, p. 7). The Chapman narrative became embodiment of the noble, the masculine, the camaraderie, the martyrdom, the sublime, and the sainthood—the heroic myth of the war experience.

No other volunteer embodied this narrative so thoroughly. But many others died, including other aviators. Why did Chapman grow to exemplify the myth? We might take a look at just who worked to create it. While the French press published the narratives, French opinion leaders controlled them. They did so intrinsically, as politicians marbled Paris editorial offices. But they also did so extrinsically. Many of the stories were based on comments of opinion leaders. That narrative varied little among the titles studied here. Chapman had one more advantage: his father. John Jay Chapman worked to tie the heroic myth to a religious narrative, a Joan of Arc in the holy war against barbarism, making, in Barthes’ words, “contingency appear eternal” (Barthes, 1957, p. 142).

Creation of a myth to make tolerable the ghastly experience of world war sprang up in the Paris press based on the leaders who mostly controlled it (Collins, 2007). This serves to reinforce conclusions of postwar authors who wrote of the press during war. ²⁷

Myth-building using volunteers helped to recast the ghastly tragedy of war into a noble quest, a test of masculinity, an opportunity for camaraderie, a spiritual transcendence. It was created by educated men, springing from the volunteers through the press. It was developed by political leaders who drove French media (Collins, 2007). McLuhan observed that media and mythology evolve together (DeFehr, 2010). Without an available French press, the elite could not have promulgated the myth. In transforming the war, myth helped to comfort survivors; the dead did not die in vain. It helped to inspire neutral Americans; our heroes must be vindicated. Propaganda helped France to fight on and, certainly in some part, encouraged the United States to join (Becker, 1985). But it also served to perpetuate unimaginable slaughter and promote the belief that war is acceptable, even preferable.

The war hero myth still exists. A soldier may still become the “exemplar of our highest ideals” (Hedges, 2002, p. 11). But, as Mosse (1990) observed, the myth does not seem to hold the power it once did. Today, it is not the heroic war memorial that attracts most visitors in Washington. It is the simple black wall inscribed with 58,286 names.