|
Historical Military Newspapers in East Africa |
- By Indy beetle
Throughout military history, newspapers of the armed forces have played a key role in informing, entertaining, and controlling the soldiers of various nations. Even WikiProject Military history's own The Bugle has performed the same functions for its members for over 12 years—except for that last part about the controlling thing. Unless the editors have been weaving subtle propaganda into the permanent
World War I column op-ed section over the last four years... Anyways, in this edition we will explore the influence of these oft-ignored publications in an oft-ignored part of the world during a not-so-oft-ignored period in history.
Following the outbreak of World War II in 1939, vast numbers of men were conscripted into the King's African Rifles, a regiment serving the British Empire in Uganda, Kenya, Tanganyika, and Nyasaland. Most were illiterate, and some of those more engaged in the pursuit of learning were pulled from the educational institutions and forced into the armed forces, much to their displeasure. Separated from their families and frequently overworked, the askari of the KAR had plenty to complain about. Those with the ability to write expressed their grievances in letters. Though much of their mail was under censorship, some of the indignant messages made it to the civilian press. The Kenyan Swahili weekly, Bazara, printed the letters, and soon thereafter the publication found its way into the hands of the KAR conscripts, eager for the cathartic relief from their stressful duties they provided. One soldier of the 6th Battalion, stationed in Ethiopia, wrote, "And now all our faces turn bright whenever news comes from our behind in a paper called Bazara. All those who do not know how to read are being told what is in the Gazette by the other soldiers."
For its bold methods, Bazara provoked the ire of the Director of Civil Intelligence in Kenya. The British were already concerned about maintaining discipline in the colonial regiment, having ruled out the draconian measures of years past as inappropriate means of control. An educational program, in addition to training soldiers for more specialized roles such as clerks, was believed to be a positive way to explain the Allies' war aims and thereby boost morale. Planning began in 1941, but the program was not implemented until the later stages of the war. As part of the adjoining literacy campaign and in response to the popularity of Bazara and other publications, the East Africa Command created several newspapers of its own, mostly Swahili, so as to have more say over what the conscripts were reading: Habari Zetu for the troops in Ethiopia, Pamoja for those in Madagascar, Heshima for the 11th East African Division in Ceylon, Ulema (in Chewa) for the men in Southeast Asia, Kwetu Kenya in the Middle East, and Askari and Jambo for those stationed in East Africa.
The papers covered the war, the home front, and carried pieces written by the soldiers about their service, including the occasional poem. Civilian publications and other newsletters supplemented with weather records, crop figures, and inconsequential gossip from home, both to ease the soldier's anxieties about their families' situations and to prevent them from becoming too isolated from their civilian lives. They (obviously) targeted a literate audience, but it was expected that the able men would read to their less-educated comrades—and they did. The army publications proved incredibly popular—especially among the younger conscripts. The overall literacy and education campaign was also very successful.
The newspapers still naturally played a role in propaganda and control of information. Heshima carried black pin-up art to satiate the soldiers' more carnal desires, while British authorities labored to prevent the distribution of photos of white women that would upset the racial norms of colonial society. When concerns arose that the conscripts were growing arrogant and would disregard their traditional leaders, the army publications praised the customary authorities and ridiculed acts of disrespect. Particularly, they emphasized the busara (wisdom) of experienced chiefs and maintained that it was just as good as any formal education. They also attempted to appease concerns about upward mobility by highlighting the few incidents in which soldiers advanced, such as when a veteran was made chairman of the Kenya East African Study Union. Efforts were made to channel the askari's desire for gain towards decorations and "honor" on the battlefield. This was mostly unsuccessful, and instead brought inquiries about the existence of any material benefits attached to military distinctions.
As the end of the war approached an increasing number of askari began demanding for a more tangible sign of achievement—promotions. The British had been short on officers for the African corps throughout the conflict but, with the exception of a few Ugandans, they had not commissioned any blacks as officers. Demands increased after East African troops played a key role in ejecting the Japanese from Burma in 1945. The British authorities decided the best way to handle the pressure was to refrain from engaging in the argument and allowing the African conscripts to hash it out on their own in the official newspapers. Running debates on the subject were allowed in the "Barua za Askari" (Letters by Soldiers) section in Heshima upon which the British editorial staff did not comment. This allowed men who opposed African officers to more or less speak for them. Counterpoints ranged from instances of poor treatment of conscripts by African non-commissioned officers, the lack of educated persons to take up the responsibilities of leadership, and even racial charges partially inspired by Britain's pre-war policy of military favoritism for certain ethnic groups. After running enough anti-Africanisation letters to give the impression that they represented the majority opinion, the editors allowed one final message on the subject to be printed, calling for an end to debate and a focusing on the war effort against the Japanese. Thus the army newspapers had successfully curtailed the growing self-consciousness of the askari.
The civil administration pleaded with military authorities to downplay the East African role in the war effort through the newspapers and reduce the askari to their pre-1939 role as mere "natives". The advances were refused on the grounds that such an attitude would cripple morale in the final months of the conflict. Despite the initial concerns, the East African troops demobilized peacefully and returned to their homes without incident. Most played little to no role in the emergence of the nationalism that swept the continent in the following years, or at the very least their politics were not much informed by their military experience (a few historians disagree on this point). They went to back to the farms and cities from where they came and resumed their civilian trades.
United States Air Force historian Robert C. Boots once wrote, "Because of its diverse character and timeliness, the newspaper provides a valuable tool for policy making and education in the armed services, and helps the military to avoid ever becoming 'an incubus and a danger'." [1] So it was in British East Africa.
- ^ Upham, Lois N., ed. (1988). Newspapers in the Library: New Approaches to Management and Reference Work. Psychology Press. p. 124. ISBN 9780866566889.
|
|
Historical Military Newspapers in East Africa |
- By Indy beetle
Throughout military history, newspapers of the armed forces have played a key role in informing, entertaining, and controlling the soldiers of various nations. Even WikiProject Military history's own The Bugle has performed the same functions for its members for over 12 years—except for that last part about the controlling thing. Unless the editors have been weaving subtle propaganda into the permanent
World War I column op-ed section over the last four years... Anyways, in this edition we will explore the influence of these oft-ignored publications in an oft-ignored part of the world during a not-so-oft-ignored period in history.
Following the outbreak of World War II in 1939, vast numbers of men were conscripted into the King's African Rifles, a regiment serving the British Empire in Uganda, Kenya, Tanganyika, and Nyasaland. Most were illiterate, and some of those more engaged in the pursuit of learning were pulled from the educational institutions and forced into the armed forces, much to their displeasure. Separated from their families and frequently overworked, the askari of the KAR had plenty to complain about. Those with the ability to write expressed their grievances in letters. Though much of their mail was under censorship, some of the indignant messages made it to the civilian press. The Kenyan Swahili weekly, Bazara, printed the letters, and soon thereafter the publication found its way into the hands of the KAR conscripts, eager for the cathartic relief from their stressful duties they provided. One soldier of the 6th Battalion, stationed in Ethiopia, wrote, "And now all our faces turn bright whenever news comes from our behind in a paper called Bazara. All those who do not know how to read are being told what is in the Gazette by the other soldiers."
For its bold methods, Bazara provoked the ire of the Director of Civil Intelligence in Kenya. The British were already concerned about maintaining discipline in the colonial regiment, having ruled out the draconian measures of years past as inappropriate means of control. An educational program, in addition to training soldiers for more specialized roles such as clerks, was believed to be a positive way to explain the Allies' war aims and thereby boost morale. Planning began in 1941, but the program was not implemented until the later stages of the war. As part of the adjoining literacy campaign and in response to the popularity of Bazara and other publications, the East Africa Command created several newspapers of its own, mostly Swahili, so as to have more say over what the conscripts were reading: Habari Zetu for the troops in Ethiopia, Pamoja for those in Madagascar, Heshima for the 11th East African Division in Ceylon, Ulema (in Chewa) for the men in Southeast Asia, Kwetu Kenya in the Middle East, and Askari and Jambo for those stationed in East Africa.
The papers covered the war, the home front, and carried pieces written by the soldiers about their service, including the occasional poem. Civilian publications and other newsletters supplemented with weather records, crop figures, and inconsequential gossip from home, both to ease the soldier's anxieties about their families' situations and to prevent them from becoming too isolated from their civilian lives. They (obviously) targeted a literate audience, but it was expected that the able men would read to their less-educated comrades—and they did. The army publications proved incredibly popular—especially among the younger conscripts. The overall literacy and education campaign was also very successful.
The newspapers still naturally played a role in propaganda and control of information. Heshima carried black pin-up art to satiate the soldiers' more carnal desires, while British authorities labored to prevent the distribution of photos of white women that would upset the racial norms of colonial society. When concerns arose that the conscripts were growing arrogant and would disregard their traditional leaders, the army publications praised the customary authorities and ridiculed acts of disrespect. Particularly, they emphasized the busara (wisdom) of experienced chiefs and maintained that it was just as good as any formal education. They also attempted to appease concerns about upward mobility by highlighting the few incidents in which soldiers advanced, such as when a veteran was made chairman of the Kenya East African Study Union. Efforts were made to channel the askari's desire for gain towards decorations and "honor" on the battlefield. This was mostly unsuccessful, and instead brought inquiries about the existence of any material benefits attached to military distinctions.
As the end of the war approached an increasing number of askari began demanding for a more tangible sign of achievement—promotions. The British had been short on officers for the African corps throughout the conflict but, with the exception of a few Ugandans, they had not commissioned any blacks as officers. Demands increased after East African troops played a key role in ejecting the Japanese from Burma in 1945. The British authorities decided the best way to handle the pressure was to refrain from engaging in the argument and allowing the African conscripts to hash it out on their own in the official newspapers. Running debates on the subject were allowed in the "Barua za Askari" (Letters by Soldiers) section in Heshima upon which the British editorial staff did not comment. This allowed men who opposed African officers to more or less speak for them. Counterpoints ranged from instances of poor treatment of conscripts by African non-commissioned officers, the lack of educated persons to take up the responsibilities of leadership, and even racial charges partially inspired by Britain's pre-war policy of military favoritism for certain ethnic groups. After running enough anti-Africanisation letters to give the impression that they represented the majority opinion, the editors allowed one final message on the subject to be printed, calling for an end to debate and a focusing on the war effort against the Japanese. Thus the army newspapers had successfully curtailed the growing self-consciousness of the askari.
The civil administration pleaded with military authorities to downplay the East African role in the war effort through the newspapers and reduce the askari to their pre-1939 role as mere "natives". The advances were refused on the grounds that such an attitude would cripple morale in the final months of the conflict. Despite the initial concerns, the East African troops demobilized peacefully and returned to their homes without incident. Most played little to no role in the emergence of the nationalism that swept the continent in the following years, or at the very least their politics were not much informed by their military experience (a few historians disagree on this point). They went to back to the farms and cities from where they came and resumed their civilian trades.
United States Air Force historian Robert C. Boots once wrote, "Because of its diverse character and timeliness, the newspaper provides a valuable tool for policy making and education in the armed services, and helps the military to avoid ever becoming 'an incubus and a danger'." [1] So it was in British East Africa.
- ^ Upham, Lois N., ed. (1988). Newspapers in the Library: New Approaches to Management and Reference Work. Psychology Press. p. 124. ISBN 9780866566889.
|