CULTURAL DIPLOMACY AND PROPAGANDA ARE NOT

MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE

Cultural diplomacy has been defined as ‘the exchange of ideas,

information, art and other aspects of culture among nations and
their peoples in order to foster mutual understanding’ (Cummings,
2003, p. 1). Indeed, while it has been recognised as having ‘a vital
role to play in international relations’ (Bound et al. 2007, p. 11),
it is often viewed with suspicion due to its ‘connotations with
colonialism, imperialism, and propaganda’ (Nisbett, 2012, p. 2).
Despite this, attempts have been made to distinguish cultural
diplomacy from such unfavourable overtones. Mulcahy (1999, p.
8), for example, argues that cultural diplomacy ought to be
‘distinguished from propaganda’ because, unlike propaganda, it
does not contain ‘explicit, immediate political content’. He
continues:

Cultural diplomacy rests on the premise that

allowing […] cultural activities and cultural leaders
to speak for themselves abroad is the best
advertising for the virtues of a free society (ibid).

There are two points to be challenged here: (i) cultural diplomacy

being distinguishable from propaganda and (ii) cultural leaders
speaking for themselves. They are both interlinked and will be
addressed here, respectively.

Cultural Diplomacy Being Distinguishable from

Propaganda?
When Reginald Leeper founded the British Council in 1934, he
openly referred to its work as the dissemination of ‘cultural
propaganda’ (Smiles, 2007, p. 167). He was also in no doubt about
its role as a political instrument. In a 1935 letter to the Permanent
Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Sir Robert Vansittart,
he wrote:

I am convinced that our aim should be political

rather than commercial and that the Foreign Office
should have the major say in the policy of the
Council […] we could use our cultural work as a very
definite political instrument. This work should go
hand in hand with our foreign policy and quite
definitely the Foreign Office should be the advisors
to the Council (quoted in ibid).

He would later write, in 1943, that ‘the object [of the Council] was
not culture for culture’s sake, but culture for policy’s sake’
(Atherton, 1994, p. 27). In 1941 the Minister of Information, Duff
Cooper, also wrote of the Council’s role:

The supposition is that the British Council exists only

for cultural, and not for political propaganda, but
this at the best of times was mere camouflage since
no country would be justified in spending public
money on cultural propaganda unless it had also a
political or commercial significance (quoted in ibid).

Evidently, these early twentieth century elites had no qualms

about referring to the Council’s work as ‘political’ and/or ‘cultural
propaganda’. And as Louise Atherton (1994, p. 26-27), a scholar
of Diplomacy in the 1930s at the University of East Anglia has
written, ‘Although publicly presented as an independent body’ the
Council ‘was, from its creation, guided by the foreign office’.
Interestingly, nowhere today can such sentiments be found on
the Council’s website, not even on the History page.
Indeed, the Council now refers to its work as ‘cultural relations’
(British Council, n.d.b), stating that:

the British Council builds links between UK people

and institutions and those around the world, helping
to create trust and lay foundations for prosperity
and security around the world (ibid).

In considering this new description of the Council’s work, we may

recall that the UK Government once had a Secretary of State
for ‘War’, who is nowadays called the Secretary of State
for ‘Defense’. Furthermore, when observing the preference to
refer to the Council’s work as ‘cultural relations’ we may also
recall that after the Second World War the term ‘public relations’
was chosen as a euphemism to replace the term ‘propaganda’,
which had acquired negative connotations due to its use by Nazi
forces (Bernays, 2005[1928], pp. 13-16). It would be hasty, then,
to not question further the role of the Council, or indeed any
organisation in the business of ‘cultural relations’ as a potential
tool for ‘political’ and/or ‘cultural propaganda’.

The Oxford English dictionary defines propaganda

as ‘information, especially of a biased or misleading
nature, used to promote a political cause or point of
view’. Therefore, to show that an organisation is not functioning
as a propaganda tool it would be necessary to show that the
organisation operates impartially and not in the interests of a
‘political cause or point of view’. While a detailed study is beyond
the scope of this article, the following observations may prove
useful.

Cultural Leaders Speaking for Themselves?

As observed above, Mulcahy’s (1998, p.8) distinguishing of

cultural diplomacy from propaganda rests on its independence
from ‘explicit, immediate political content’ and that ‘cultural
activities and cultural leaders speak for themselves’. However,
such conditions do not in fact eliminate the possibility of
propaganda, as we will now observe.

In 2007, the UK Government granted six leading cultural

organisations – British Library, British Museum, Natural History
Museum, Royal Botanical Gardens, Tate and Victoria & Albert
Museum – £3 million to undertake a variety of cultural activities
in Africa, the Middle East, India, and China (Nisbett, 2012, p. 3).
The venture was called the World Collections Programme (WCP).
Remarkably, when discussing it in Parliament, all three parties –
Conservative, Labour and Lib Dem – agreed that if money was to
be granted then the cultural organisations ought not to be used as
political instruments (ibid). This not only seemed to oppose the
views of the old elites who saw ‘cultural work as a very definite
political instrument’, but it also opposed much of the existing
literature on cultural diplomacy, which, as Nisbett (ibid) points
out, tends to be critical of such cultural investments for being used
to push government agendas (see e.g. Vestheim, 1994, p. 65).
Jenkins (2009) calls this the ‘propagandist agenda’. Indeed,
while the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) selected the
locations for the organisations to undertake their work, Nisbett
(2012), in her proclaimed ‘empirical’ study of the WCP, claims
that:

Beyond the priority countries being outlined, there is

no further [Government] direction or prescription
(ibid, p. 4).

Concluding from data gathered from interviewing various

stakeholders, she also writes:

There is no evidence of propaganda or indeed any

other detrimental impact (p. 15).

Finally, she adds that her data:

dispels the accusations [e.g. from Jenkins, 2009] of

‘political diktat’, ‘agitprop’, political ‘naivety’ and
organisational ‘subservience’ (ibid).

Certainly, while it is agreeable from the data presented that

political diktat did not occur beyond the ‘priority countries
outlined’; no legitimate claim can be made for the absence of
propaganda, agitprop, political naivety and/or organisational
subservience. This is because no enquiry was made into the
potential existence of political bias in the actual cultural content
produced, exhibited and/or exchanged by the organisations
funded. Indeed, the data from interviewees is insufficient to
support her claims because, even if the interviewees were aware of
having done so, they would be unlikely to admit to serving a
‘propagandist agenda’ or being subservient to organisational
demands. As Ellul (1965, pp. 58-9) explains:
The propagandist naturally cannot reveal the true
intentions of the principal for whom he acts […] That
would be to submit the projects to public discussion,
to the scrutiny of public opinion, and thus to prevent
their success […] Propaganda must serve instead as
a veil for such projects, masking true intention.

More importantly, propaganda can occur more subtly and can

even go unrecognised. Herman and Chomsky (1994[1988])
demonstrate this with their ‘propaganda model’, which they use to
show how systematic bias occurs in the US mass media (do
watch here for a very useful illustration of the process). The
model comprises elements of a filtering system that enables ‘the
government and dominant private interests to get their message
across to the public’ without the means of force or coercion (ibid,
p. 2). The filtering process ‘occurs so naturally’, they write, that
media personnel, ‘frequently operating with complete integrity
and goodwill’, are convinced of their objectivity and
independence from external forces (ibid). We may apply this
filtering system (propaganda model) to the six cultural
organisations involved with the WCP. For example, in defending
the management of the British Museum, Director Neil MacGregor
explains earnestly that, through a system of ‘extraordinary
ingenuity and brilliance’, the museum is owned and
controlled ‘not as a department of state, but by
trustees’ who are ‘not allowed by law merely to
follow government orders’ (MacGregor, 2004). However, he
fails to acknowledge that, as is the case with all six organisations,
the trustees are recommended and appointed (and
reappointed) by either UK Government Ministers
(often the Prime Minister) and/or existing
trustees (see DCMS, 2015). Such a system naturally facilitates a
reinforcing feedback-loop of like-minded individuals whom
generally share similar views and are thus unlikely to hold views
that conflict with established interests. As Herman and Chomsky
(1994[1988], p. xii) write, most bias arises from:

the preselection of right-thinking people,

internalized preconceptions, and the adaptation of
personnel to the constraints of ownership,
organization, market, and political power.

As we see, then, the possibility of bias towards a political agenda

is in fact very prevalent. Nisbett (2012, p. 15) even acknowledges
in her conclusions that ‘Government […] policies generally
“reflect” the work of the cultural organisations, thus validating
their status and power’. Might it not equally be said that the work
of the cultural organisations reflects the policies of the
Government, thus essentially making them mouthpieces for the
Government? This point goes unacknowledged.

Further contributing to systematic bias are processes of funding.

As Herman and Chomsky (1994[1988], p. 16) explain, the people
that ‘buy and pay’ for the content ‘are the patrons that provide the
[…] subsidy [and whose] requirements and demands the media
must accommodate if they are to succeed’. Indeed, when speaking
of their increasing dependence on corporate sponsors, the British
Museum’s head of corporate relations Jennifer Suggitt has
expressed worry at how criticism of such sponsors could ‘really
affect how much arts organisations are funded in
future’ (Spence, 2014). With regards to the UK Government’s
funding of these organisations, Nisbett (2012, p. 10) also
highlights the importance of cultural managers ‘remembering the
funders’ and their priorities because ‘funding streams are expected
to echo political objectives’. Again, this creates an obvious
potential for propaganda that goes unacknowledged in her
‘empirical’ study.

Despite her conclusion, then, that there was ‘no evidence of

propaganda’ in the WCP organisations, it has been shown here that
there was in fact a lot of potential for propaganda and
organisational subservience to the Government. The problem was
that no analysis was undertaken of the cultural content promoted
by the organisations. Furthermore, we have seen that Mulcahy’s
(1999, p. 8) premise of allowing cultural leaders to ‘speak for
themselves’ independent of political interests does not eliminate
the possibility of propaganda, especially when those leaders are
preselected by UK Government Ministers and other preselected
‘right-thinking people’ with potentially ‘internalized
preconceptions’. As Orwell (1972) wrote of self-censorship in the
British press and intelligentsia:

Unpopular ideas can be silenced, and inconvenient

facts kept dark […] not because the Government
intervened but because of a general tacit agreement
that ‘it wouldn’t do’ to mention that particular fact.

It is entirely possible that such self-censorship is at play within our

cultural organisations and that, as Herman and Chomsky
(1994[1988], p. xii) conclude of the US mass media, they
predominantly serve to ‘mobilize support for the special interests
that dominate the state and private activity’. It is certainly
interesting to consider whether our cultural organisations would
possess the autonomy to openly promote the historical facts
outlined here. Indeed, considering the issue, we ought not to
forget that the locations selected by the UK Government for the
six cultural organisations to undertake their work – Africa, the
Middle East, India, and China – have all been subject to British
colonial and imperial activity and all are of significant economic
interest to the West.

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