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ISSN 1356-3289 Volume 25 Number 4 2020

Corporate Communications An International Journal History of Public Relations Guest Editors: Anastasios Theofilou, Dustin W. Supa, Kate Fitch and Anastasia Veneti

Published in association with

Guest editorial Introduction for CCIJ history of public relations special issue This special issue celebrates the 10th anniversary of the International History of Public Relations Conference at Bournemouth University. Founded by Professor Tom Watson in 2010, the conference has played a significant role in developing public relations history as a specialist field. It has led to an edited series of books, Other Voices: National Perspectives on Public Relations History (Watson, 2014–2017), designed to globalize the writing of the history of public relations, a number of journal special issues and created many opportunities for the growth of history scholarship in the field. Much of the early public relations history writing was largely descriptive in documenting histories of professional associations, national histories or pivotal (mostly male) figures and pioneers. That same research was subject to a limited scope of theories and applications. Since that first conference in 2010, Watson (2013) identified the need for more critical approaches that avoided writing the historical development of the field in terms of an evolution towards the modern profession. There is the opportunity for a more sophisticated understanding of historiography, more critical and sociocultural perspectives and more evidence-based histories that can challenge what we think we know about public relations history. Exploring these angles allows a deep understanding of public relations, historical propaganda and communication and the significant, yet understudied, historical role of public relations in society and the social and cultural conditions which gave rise to public relations activity (Fitch and L’Etang, 2017). The papers in this issue resonate with the top themes of the International History of Public Relations Conference over its first decade: questions of professionalism, the role of education; national identities and branding; political communication and social change. Following a decade of scholarship dedicated to understanding the underpinnings of historiography in public relations, we have begun to move towards a more nuanced understanding of the role public relations has played in shaping society at all levels. The 10 papers in this special issue offer a glimpse into this evolution of the history of public relations. The articles offer a range of methodological approaches and explore diverse themes. Many of the papers are analytical and/or critical and foreground an awareness of historiographical challenges in researching and writing public relations history. Methodological approaches include archival research, interviews, biography, autoethnography and case studies. The collection also offers some geographical spread that continues to represent the global impact of public relations and its role in modern societies, with contributions from Thailand, Australia, New Zealand and the United Arab Emirates as well as the UK, Germany and the USA. Gareth Thompson’s investigation of British Union of Fascists considers specific cultural and political conditions that gave rise to publicity, public relations and propaganda and notes considerable slippage between these terms. Drawing on archival research, Thompson considers how public relations helped construct Oswald Mosely as a celebrity in a uniquely British manifestation of fascism. He offers a compelling narrative that has contemporary significance for political rallies as performative spectacle that offer opportunities for publicity and celebrity. In Authorial Voices, Conor McGrath offers a rich and nuanced biography of former priest, practitioner and educator, Francis X. Carty. McGrath draws on Carty’s diverse writing to integrate his biography and memoirs with his public relations and other work. The result is an engaging and original paper that considers public relations and a significant biography

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for the field in the context of broader political, social and cultural contexts in 20th century Ireland. This paper contributes to a better understanding of the historical development of public relations in Ireland, about which little has been written, and offers a nuanced biography of someone who played a role in that development, particularly through education, but who also had a rich and diverse life, evident in their writing, outside of that role. Arne Gellrich, Erik Koenen and Stefanie Averbeck-Lietz explore the entanglement of journalism, public diplomacy and public relations in their investigation of communication history of the League of Nations. The League was established after First World War with the aim of ensuring world peace. In the relatively small city of Geneva, which became the League’s headquarters from late 1920, the authors argue the League’s Information Section and international journalists effectively became an epistemic project to promote open, global communication. Interestingly Edward Bernays and Walter Lippmann were members of the American team at the 1919 Paris conference; Australian media mogul Keith Murdoch was also present. Drawing on extensive research in the National Archives of Thailand, Napawan Tantivejakul details Siam’s public relations and public diplomacy efforts under the leadership of King Rama V in the late 19th century. This work, which included government press relations, media monitoring and international tours, ensured Siam had a high profile internationally and protected Siam from the threat of colonialism. It is worth noting that Thailand is the only country in Southeast Asia never to have been colonised by the West. This paper offers original insights into the historical use of public relations to support an anticolonisation strategy by promoting Siam as a civilised and modern country. Anne Gregory explores ongoing issues around the legitimacy of public relations, by documenting the process that led to the Royal Charter granted to the Institute of Public Relations in 2005, and reflecting on the UK public relations industry 15 years later through the 2019 State of the Profession report. Gregory, in her capacity as then-president of the Institute, played a key role on securing Chartered Status. She points to a number of contemporary challenges in the UK, including a profound lack of diversity in what is a mostly White, female and middle class membership base and ongoing jurisdictional issues with competing fields. In response to the Bell Pottinger case, Gregory also identified the need for more leadership on ethical and public interest issues. In Bandwith Lost, Jessica Borge uses a micro-history approach and archival research to document the public relations activity of the British Family Planning Association (FPA) in the 1950s and FPA’s efforts to promote family planning via the new medium of television. By all accounts, the telegenic FPA chair, Margaret Pyke, was a successful and charismatic advocate for family planning and the FPA achieved explicit television coverage in 1955 as a result of a focussed public relations campaign. The topic, birth control and family planning, suggests an original approach to researching public relations and social change. Using Curtin and Gaither’s cultural-economic model, William Anderson offers a historical case study of measurement in public relations. This sophisticated application of the model considers how social hygienists in the 1920s constructed particular discourses and identities in brochures and film and how they evaluated the success of this communication activity. The social hygienists presented the preferred way of thinking and behaving in order to be a “good American” and commissioned research to measure audience reaction, reinforcing the notion of meaning making as a dynamic and contested process. Acknowledging the limited research into public relations in the Middle East, Khaled Zamoum and T. Serra Gorpe document the changing political, social and cultural landscape in Dubai since the formation of the United Arab Emirates (UAE) in 1971 and the conditions that gave rise to the development of public relations. International universities have taught public relations in Dubai for at least two decades, although public relations teaching at public universities dates back to the 1980s. Drawing on interviews with educators, Zamoum and

Gorpe found globalised understandings of public relations and Western practices prevailed over local components, with some resistance to the liberal arts orientation of US degree structures and international accreditation expectations. Teaching history is challenging in a crowded curriculum that continues to prioritise industry concerns and practices; it is not helped by the uncritical and often poorly sourced versions of public relations history included in textbooks. However, Fitch and L’Etang argue in their paper for a stronger role for history in the curriculum, arguing the teaching of both public relations theory and practice could be substantially enhanced with better understanding and analysis of historical contexts, concepts and relationships. Teaching history also allows students to better understand their responsibilities as future communicators and the ways public relations engages with and impacts on society. Kinnear challenges the Aotearoan/New Zealand concept of unity encompassed in the branding of a New Zealand identity. The Maori phrase, “He Iwi tahi tatou”, stated at the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi, means “We are one people” and is echoed by PM Jacinda Ardern in her response to the Christchurch attacks. Kinnear explores a range of state sponsored promotional work, which includes public relations, to conclude that “We are one” offers only a limited and exclusionary identity for New Zealand, and one which excludes along gender, race and ethnic lines. This finding is a significant given the rise in White supremacy, which contributed to the Christchurch mosque attacks, albeit by an Australian citizen. Kinnear’s paper expands public relations history scholarship in that it situates public relations activity within a broader understanding of state-sponsored promotions of nation branding and national identity. This special issue aims to review history scholarship in the discipline after a decade of International History of Public Relations conferences at Bournemouth University and to point to the way forward. Evident in many of the papers presented in this issue are more developed theoretical perspectives that engage with historical scholarship and thinking, foreground historiographical challenges and move beyond professional narratives and disciplinary silos. These papers heed Watson’s call for public relations history to “be more dangerous” and to “avoid Grunigian analysis as a historiographic tool” (2013, p. 9) and, in doing so, expand boundaries of thinking of what is and is not public relations history. Anastasios Theofilou Department of Communication and Journalism, Bournemouth University–Talbot Campus, Poole, UK Dustin W. Supa Boston University, Boston, Massachusetts, USA Kate Fitch Department of Communication and Media Studies, Monash University, Melbourne, Australia, and Anastasia Veneti Department of Humanities and Law, Bournemouth University, Poole, UK

References Fitch, K. and L’Etang, J. (2017), “Other voices? The state of public relations history and historiography: questions, challenges and limitations of ‘national’ histories and historiographies”, Public Relations Inquiry, Vol. 6 No. 1, pp. 115-136.

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Watson, T. (2013), “The scholarship of public relations history: a report card [keynote address]”, Paper presented at the Meeting of International History of Public Relations Conference, June, Bournemouth, available at: http://microsites.bournemouth.ac.uk/historyofpr/files/2010/11/TomWatson-IHPRC-2013-Keynote-Address4.pdf.. Watson, T. (2014–2017) (Ed.), National Perspectives on the Development of Public Relations: Other Voices, Palgrave, Houndmills.

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The current issue and full text archive of this journal is available on Emerald Insight at: https://www.emerald.com/insight/1356-3289.htm

The universal The propaganda of universal propaganda of the British Union fascism: peace, empire and of Fascists international co-operation in 577 British Union of Fascists’ publicity from 1932 to 1939

Gareth Thompson

Received 30 November 2019 Revised 17 May 2020 2 July 2020 Accepted 3 July 2020

London College of Communication, University of the Arts London, London, UK Abstract Purpose – This article presents a historical investigation into the foreign policy messages of the British Union of Fascists’ (BUF) publicity and propaganda from its foundation in 1932 until the outbreak of World War II in 1939, along with a discussion of the methods and institutional arrangements used to propagate its ideas of peace, empire and transnational co-operation. Design/methodology/approach – The historical investigation is based upon scrutiny of original BUF documents relating to the period 1932–1939 from various archives. After cataloguing of the relevant publicity and propaganda materials in time sequence and thematically, analysis was organised using a historical institutionalism approach. Findings – The article explains the different phases of the BUF’s message development and how publications, meetings and media were used to project its ideas. It also discussed the impact of support from Viscount Rothermere’s newspapers and financial support from Benito Mussolini. Consideration of publicity materials alongside files from BUF headquarters enabled identification and investigation into the communicative actors who did the publicity work, including Director of Publicity, John Beckett. Social implications – The article reflects upon how the British Union of Fascists’ publicity and propaganda relates to modern manifestations of the communication of authoritarian and nationalistic political propositions and the historical continuities that endure therein. Originality/value – The project makes an original contribution to the history of British political propaganda and public relations through an inquiry based upon scrutiny of historical documents in UK archives relating to BUF publicity related to foreign policy. Keywords British Union of Fascists, Propaganda, Public relations, Populism, Nationalism Paper type Research paper

Introduction One of the enduring historical myths of World War II is that a reasonable and united Britain stood alone in its fight against the threat of an alien fascist tyranny in Europe. Yet latent pacifist feeling in Britain was widespread up until the outbreak of war in 1939, and historical omissions and generalisations since then have become “chief among the habits of forgetfulness which permitted and permit the myth to subsist” (Calder, 1991, p. 90). The standalone myth also precludes the existence of a vibrant fascist movement in Britain throughout the 1930s that co-operated with fascist states in Europe, received funding from Italy and campaigned against war with Germany even after the fighting had started. The founding of the British Union of Fascists (BUF) in 1932 meant that throughout the 1930s, Britain had experienced its own version of the political extremes that emerged in other European countries, and fascist ideas found support among the population at large, the media and social and political elites. This historical essay considers the methods, messages and institutional arrangements of the British Union of Fascists’ publicity and propaganda in the years between its foundation in 1932 and the outbreak of World War II in 1939, with a particular focus on the BUF’s

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campaigning for a universal fascism or “fascist internationalism” (Liburd, 2018, p. 295) in which the rules-based co-operation of the League of Nations was replaced with more casual co-operation between fascist states. So beyond an explication of how the BUF did its public relations (PR) work in the foreign policy field, the article unpacks the BUF’s messaging on themes of peace, transnational co-operation and opposition to war that were as much as part of its proposition as ultra-nationalism and anti-semitism.

578 Literature review The history of political PR, propaganda and publicity In her assessment of the state of public relations history making, L’Etang (2016, p. 69) encouraged some “re-positioning in terms of its historiographical imagination” in order that PR historians might ask “broader questions in relation to a bigger picture” (p. 75). Pursuing a similar line, Fitch and L’Etang (2017, p. 116) gently admonished that scholars contributing on PR history topics “have not always grounded their histories within wider historical literature that contextualises the public relations occupation and its role in a particular societal context”. Mindful of these points, the literature review that follows considers cultural and historical matters related to fascism in Europe in line with the call from Somerville, Edwards and Ihlen in their introduction in a recent edited book of PR history (2020, p. 3) for historians in the field to make visible the “specific social, cultural and political conditions that have given rise to the profession in its different forms”. While the terms propaganda and public relations have been considered problematic by themselves, there has also been contestation on the time periods during which they apply and the extent to which they can be used as general descriptors. L’Etang (1998, p. 414) encouraged sensitivity to temporal context and emphasised the importance of using terms in the same way they were used at the time under study, even if the result appeared “either offensive or inaccurate” as it is “historically more authentic to employ terms this way.” Developing this position within political PR and international relations, Kunczik (2003, p. 400) maintained that any attempt to distinguish between public relations and propaganda in these fields was “merely a semantic game”. The terms selected in the title of this paper and which define its scope – publicity and propaganda – were the terms used by the BUF to describe its communications and outreach work between 1932 and 1939. The word publicity, along with derivatives such as publicist was a descriptor for PR work in the UK and was used to describe PR in France (publicite) during this period, especially in government communications. Wring’s (2020, p. 148) study of the pre-war “municipal socialism” in Britain showed that the term publicity was used in local government in the 1930s, as well as by prominent Labour Party politicians of the time such as Herbert Morrison. This usage suggests that the term publicity can be considered alongside PR and propaganda, which were themselves used “interchangeably and apparently unproblematically” in the journal of the UK’s Institute of Public Relations and in wider professional discussion until around 1955 (L’Etang, 2004, p. 83). The historiography and propaganda of fascism Ernst Nolte (1965, p. 18) argued that the “era of fascism” in Europe from 1919 to 1945 was defined by six criteria: anti-communism, anti-liberalism, anti-conservatism, strong leadership, the party as army, totalitarian aims. In another contribution on temporal matters, Paxton (1998, p. 2) further explicated the evolution of fascism in time through his proposal of a five-stage sequence of “fascism in motion” through which movements progressed, consisting of: (1) Formation. (2) Creation of a party that can act. (3) Seizure of power. (4) Exercise of power. (5) Entropy. The question of how far commonalities are valid enough to enable a “generic fascism” as opposed to country-specific variants has been a contended theme in the search for an allencompassing definition of fascism with Allardyce (1979, p. 370) arguing that “fascism is not a

generic concept”. Yet, the term which had no meaning outside Italy was applied widely by other movements keen to identify as fascist, including Mosley’s BUF. Alongside national studies of fascism and fascist propaganda focussed on Germany and other countries with an explicitly “fascist past”, more universal studies have been undertaken into what Schulte-Sasse (1991) called the aesthetics of fascism. This category of historical work included inquiry into the way fascist organisations had used art, film, radio, publishing, fashion/uniform and other mediums in their propaganda outreach. In contrast with the extensive literature on its ideology and political history, the propaganda of the BUF has been the focus of a much smaller body of work. Gottlieb (2006, p. 35) attempted to bring matters of ideology and presentation together in a paper that examined the way Sir Oswald Mosley’s “political leadership became transformed into a form of celebrity” and a publicity approach that embraced the “the marketing of megalomania”. Building on Linehan’s (2004, p. 397) consideration of the BUF as both a “totalitarian movement and political religion”, Drabik (2017, p. 214) provided a thorough review of the organisation’s propaganda from a perspective of religiosity in which fascism is faith and the role of propaganda is to spread the faith by promoting the BUF’s “mythic ideological core” of national re-birth at home and through co-operation with other fascist states internationally. Research method and materials: This investigation is based upon scrutiny of original BUF documents relating to the period 1932–1939, which was when the BUF was most active in British politics, with a correspondingly high level of publicity and propaganda activity. Documents were examined in the British Union Collection and The John Beckett Collection, both of which are held in the Special Collections Centre at the library of the University of Sheffield, and the Mosley Collection at the Cadbury Research Library at the University of Birmingham. The archival search uncovered three categories of artefacts that form the corpus in the investigation that follows: examples of BUF publicity and propaganda materials such as booklets, posters, newsletters; BUF documents relating to the organisation of PR work (including correspondence with important supporters of the publicity effort, such as Lord Rothermere, Mussolini’s regime in Italy and also with Nazi Germany) and biographies of key actors in BUF publicity. Analysis of these materials was organised using historical institutionalism, one of several methodological approaches derived from institutionalist theory, which can be traced to Powell and DiMaggio’s (1991) foundational book on The New Institutionalism in Organizational Analysis. This work led to new literature and research approaches in offshoot fields such as organizational discourse – see Grand, Hardey, Oswick and Putnam’s (2004) The Sage Handbook of Organizational Discourse, for an introduction, as well as Cooreen (2015) - and organizational institutionalism – see Greenwood, Oliver, Sahlin and Suddaby’s (2008) Sage Handbook of Organizational Institutionalism. These approaches have appeared in critical public relations projects (Fredriksson et al., 2013; Frandsen and Johansen, 2013 and others in the neo-institutionalism special section of Public Relations Inquiry in May 2013) while it has also been advocated and used in public relations history by Sandhu (2015) and Bentele and Wiesenburg (2016). As its name suggests, the historical institutionalism variant of institutional studies pays attention to the historical development of institutions, path dependency over time and the role of both “formal and informal procedures, routines, norms and conventions embedded in the organizational structure of the polity or political economy” (Hall and Taylor, 1996, p. 938). The role of the agents of the institution (such as leaders and supporters) in internalising and transmitting these scripts (Hall and Taylor, 1996, p. 946) and the assumption of changing relationship between institutions, ideas and agents over time makes this approach relevant to an examination of the BUF and its publicity work. Despite appearing rarely in public relations projects, historical institutionalism has been advocated as a valuable addition to the communication scholar’s theoretical toolbox by Bannerman and Haggart (2015, p. 8) who

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formulated a useful methodological refinement for communication studies, which they specified as “tracing the interaction of institutions, ideas and agents over time”. This variant of the historical institutionalist method – as summarised below – was adopted as the framework for organising this project: (1) Selection of the institution for study and time period. (BUF from 1932 to 1939).

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(2) Identify the institutional ideas. (The core ideology and messages of BUF). (3) Identify agents/actors. (BUF leaders and communications actors) (4) Identify supporting mechanisms. (BUF media supporters and distribution systems). (5) Identify overall institutional effects. (The BUF’s communication and its effects). Findings The institutional case study: The BUF from 1932 to 1939 While the initial British Union of Fascists naming decision can be read as a nationalistic nomenclature for an organisation that offered a single home for all British fascist groups, the union element of the name can also be read as signalling affinity between the BUF and other European fascist movements. When Mosely adopted the term fascist in the BUF’s naming, he was signalling connections, ambitions and foreign policy aspirations that extended beyond Britain As Griffin (1991, p. 1) observed, “When political movements such as Valois’s Faisceau (in France) and Mosley’s British Union of Fascists appropriated the word as a badge of honour, it showed that some political activists at least were convinced that Mussolini’s dictatorship was to be emulated as the manifestation of a positive new force in modern politics, one not confined to the Italian peninsula but supra-national and hence generic.” With the name change to the British Union of Fascists and National Socialists in 1936, this generic or supranational affinity to European fascism was eclipsed by a more explicit allegiance to Nazi Germany. This allegiance manifested itself in a foreign policy stance that was opposed to war with Germany, as well as a changed logo that mimicked the Nazi swastika and inclusion of nationalism socialism in the name changes of the movement. In 1937, the BUF changed its name again to British Union, omitting the term fascist because it signalled too close an association with other European fascist movements, who by this time were viewed as potential enemies by many in Britain. According to Allardyce (1979, p. 370), it was Mosley himself who recognised too late that the tension between the ultranationalist strand of his political proposition and its association with “foreign” ideas of fascism was a reputational risk for the BUF that had led to its message becoming “so confused in the public mind with alien powers that it was denounced as unpatriotic”. The institutional ideas: BUF’s publicity messages Nugent (1977, p. 24) identified three themes in the BUF’s policy messaging: (1) Mosley’s economic interpretation of capitalism’s crisis and the solution of the corporate/fascist state. (2) Anti-semitism. (3) Foreign policy. All three themes were infused with and the idea of hyperpatriotism, and unstinting belief in King, Country and Empire and the emphasis between the three varied over time. At the outset, BUF publicity outreach focussed initially on economic matters and the need for national renewal, while from 1935 onwards, the anti-war and peace agenda was given more emphasis. Anti-semitism rose in volume over the years and was comingled with the anti-war rhetoric as the prospect of Britain going to war with Germany appeared more likely. Similarly, as the movement developed its policy goals, Mosley’s initial economic claim of putting “Britain First” was extended to foreign policy, where the goal was to avoid entanglements that could lead to war.

“Universal fascism”: A new order at home and abroad Unlike Germany and Italy, Britain already had an extensive empire in the 1930s and the BUF had “no aggressively imperialistic fascist vision” (Griffin, 1993, p. 138) but rather a belief that beyond Britain’s renewal, co-operation with other fascist nations would be an integral part of the West’s (international) regeneration. Early BUF propaganda emphasised this message of renewal or what Griffin has called the “palingenetic myth” of fascism and messages relating to the promise of a global palingenesis appeared in early BUF propaganda. A year after the foundation of the BUF, the November 1933 edition of The Blackshirt (1933a, b, c) announced that a “New Order” was already emerging “Phoenix like from the smouldering ashes of the old”, with anti-war sentiments mixed with anti-semitism in the title “Shall Jews drag Britain to war?” Also in 1933, Mosely envisioned “humanity released from poverty and from many of the horrors and afflictions of disease to the enjoyment of a world reborn” which was the result of “a fascist movement transformed to the purpose of a new and nobler order of mankind” (Mosley, 1968, p. 328). These universalist sentiments were a recurrent theme of the BUF’s fascist proposition in foreign affairs, in which Britain would join with other fascist nations in order to “March together towards a higher and nobler order of civilization” (Mosley, 1936, p. 7). In the years that followed, the concept of a universal fascism was worked up into solidly argued propaganda by the BUF, that was propagated through articles and public meetings, that featured speeches from Mosely. Posters and banners of the relevant BUF slogans would also be displayed throughout the room, outside the venue and also chalked on walls and pavements outside. Beyond the event, photographs of the meetings with banners on display featured extensively in the BUF’s in-house publications. In an article entitled “The Immense Majesty of Fascist Peace”, Mosley (1933) argued that the reach of the British Empire and “firm friendship of fascist nations” underpinning the creation of a new Europe and broader co-operation among fascist states would guarantee “peace over at least a quarter of the Earth’s surface”. The BUF disapproved of the League of Nations and its principles of mutual support, arguing it should be abolished and replaced with what Mosley called “real League of Nations” that would emerge as a result of this “universal Fascism” (Mosley, 1934). Attacks on the inefficacy of the League of Nations and its collective security goals came from others in the BUF’s publicity operation, including a racialized critique from Joyce (1935), who described the League as a plot to “surrender white civilization to the Orient” in an article in Fascist Quarterly. He argued that imperial power was critical in enabling global peace, and that peace in Abyssinia, China or India would only be possible with “a power strong enough to enforce it.” Joyce returned to the role of empire in a 1937 article in Action (p. 6) entitled “Fascist Peace”, in which he argued that co-operation between the fascist empires of Britain, Germany and Italy on matters such as access to natural resources and markets would deliver a “new imperialism” that would prevent “another civil war of the white race”. The British Empire and the Fascist peace The BUF’s presentation of Empire in its publicity and the emphasis on heroic empire builders in creating a global peace adopted a quite distinct tone from the Nazi’s use of Britain’s imperial heritage. Germany sought to gain a new empire through war and was far more aggressive in its use of expansionist propaganda. In contrast, BUF’s messages on global peace and international co-operation were intertwined with claims of superiority derived from Britain’s recent Imperial experience and the prospects of a fascist future that built upon this heritage with co-operation between a the new brotherhood of fascist nations. In this ideological formulation, transnational co-operation amongst the new fascist states would prevent global conflict:

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Mosley and his recruits regarded the renewal of the British Empire, led by fascist frontiersmen and supported by fellow fascist Empires in Germany and Italy, as the key to world peace. In the end it was the BUF’s enthusiasm for this kind of fascist internationalism that provoked the government to intern its leading members and outlaw the organisation. (Liburd, 2018, p. 296)

Imperial power, geographical reach and trading ties made the British Empire an important component in the BUF’s peace propaganda. An early issue of The Blackshirt (1933b, p. 42) announced, under the banner headline, “Fascism and Peace”, that economic reorganization of Britain and its Empire was the only basis for lasting peace. In another issue of the BUF’s in house publication, the leader pages argued that fascism was “the enemy of chaos” at national and international level and would become “the architect of peace” (The Blackshirt, 1933c, p. 12). Over time – and specifically as 1939 approached – the BUF promoted a foreign policy stance that was explicitly opposed to entering any new wars. Mosley (1939) retrofitted the “Britain First” slogan which had been used to signify the primacy of Britain’s economic interests to a policy of avoiding wars that were not in Britain’s interest, publishing a booklet in 1939 entitled Our peace policy : The policy of British Union was is and will be, Britain First. The BUF’s campaign against war with Germany was undertaken by a tired and depleted BUF publicity team who were by now reduced to re-using slogans from the Abyssinia campaign including, “Mind Britain’s Business” and “Britain Fights for Britain Only” to promote a foreign policy proposition that was distinct from the more bellicose propaganda of fascist movements in Europe, as Cullen (1987, p. 128) explained: One facet of the BUF’s developing policy in the 1930s was its adherence to a consistent anti-war outlook [. . .] In this, the BUF must be seen as surprisingly different from other manifestations of fascism.

One field where the BUF was more in step with German and Italian fascism was its increased emphasis on anti-semitism and the way its anti-war PR rhetoric was racialised, as the movement argued that Jewish interests were dragging Britain into a war in which it had no relevant concerns (Rowe, 1998, p. 77) One author of BUF policy leaflets, A.K. Chesterton, a distant cousin of the writer G.K Chesterton, who had worked as a journalist and public relations officer before joining the BUF, was an active promoter of this linkage between Jewish interests and unnecessary war entanglements. Chesterton was paid £30 (around £1,800 today) for six weeks work (BUF Trust Ltd, 1936) and one of his publicity outputs during this period was a BUF booklet entitled Fascism and the Press, which was sold for threepence. The booklet gives a flavour of the BUF’s messaging of the time, which combined praise for Viscount Rothermere with hostility to Jewish commercial interests. More specifically, Chesterton’s words crystallise how the Britain First foreign policy of opposition to war with German could be combined with anti-semitism in a way that pre-emptively laid the blame for any future wars with international Jewry: No matter how equivocal may be one’s private feelings towards the Rothermere Press, it would be ungracious to neglect a mention of the sane and magnificent stand made by this group of newspapers against the dangerous maniacs who are intent upon the blasting to pieces of new generations of British manhood in Jewish quarrels remote from our own shores. (Chesterton, 1936, p. 3).

Widespread public aversion to the prospect of another war had been reflected in the emergence of numerous organisations advocating peace and by the late 1930s, groups with diverse origins had come together to campaign against war. Some had religious origins, such as the Christian Quaker Friends Peace Committee, while others had emerged from the political sphere, such as the radical socialist No More War Movement and the anti-war grouping in the Conservative Party. As Daniel Todman (2016, p. 70) has pointed out, while

absolute pacifists were “always only a small but vocal minority” there was a “much larger liberal constituency which hoped that international co-operation might eliminate the causes of war.” Mosley sought to appeal to sections of this constituency with his refreshed use of the “Mind Britain’s Business” messaging and public meetings against war, including what one supporter claimed was the “the biggest ever demonstration for peace in the world” at an Earls Court rally in July 1939, which attracted 20,000 (Calder, p. 112). The BUF supporter, Robert Edwards (n.d.) reported that Mosley’s message at Earls Court was “an appeal from the heart of a soldier from the trenches”: This is a demonstration of Britain First and, therefore, is a demonstration of world peace. This, the greatest gathering of the English under one roof assembled, tells the Government . . . “At last we have had enough”. We are here to tell them there is something for them to do here in Britain . . . Enough we have had of alien quarrels, enough threats of foreign war, enough diversions from what matters to the British people, our own land, our own Empire and our problems. We say to the parties tonight, ‘If any country in the world attacks Britain or threatens to attack Britain, then every single member of this great audience of British Union would fight for Britain. (Edwards, n.d.)

After the outbreak of war in September 1939, the BUF’s ex-director of publicity John Beckett, who was now running the British People’s Party (BPP), was at the centre of another attempt to build another broad based alliance against war when he founded the British Council for a Christian Settlement in Europe (BCCSE) with help from the Labour Party activist Ben Greene and others. Alongside members of the pro-Nazi right, senior retired military commanders from World I, the grouping included Christian objectors such as the left wing Methodist minister Donald Soper, the designer Eric Gill and author Laurence Housman. The anti-war faction of the Conservative Party got involved in the group and its views were “faithfully represented” in the monthly magazine, Truth, which was secretly controlled by another skilled propagandist and fixer, Sir Joseph Ball of the Conservative Research Department (Beckett, 2017, p. 249). The diversity of the alliance was on public view at meetings such as the 3 April 1940 gathering at Kingsway Hall in London, at which vendors for the communists’ Daily Worker stood alongside Peace Pledge Union members and pro-Nazi British fascists who were also selling publications. Some aspects of BUF messaging against war in Germany – even in the late 1930s – were in synch with the public mood against war which manifested itself in the public celebrations after Prime Minister Chamberlin’s final flight to Munich in September 1938. According to studies conducted by Mass Observation in 1938, “the looming prospect of war was terrifying, particularly to those who could look back to the suffering of the last great conflict” (Todman, 2016, p. 144). Even Chamberlin himself had used terms not too far removed from themes propagated by the BUF – and also by peace campaigners – when he broadcast to the nation on 27 September 1938 that it was simply “horrible, fantastic, incredible” that Britain was preparing for war as a result of “a quarrel in a faraway country between people of whom we know nothing” (Self, 2006, p. 321). The propaganda actors The first two years of the BUF’s existence depended heavily upon the leadership role played by Sir Oswald Mosley as charismatic orator and chief publicity agent for the BUF. According to Pugh’s (2005, p. 132) account of British fascism, “despite his occasional misjudgements, there is no doubt that Mosley was the BUF’s chief asset [. . .] His main weapon proved to be his masterly platform performances, which numbered about two hundred a year”. The combination of speeches in halls and open air venues around the UK coupled with the sale of publications proved a reasonably successful publicity plan in the first stages of the organisation’s evolution with membership rising to a peak of 40,000 (Todman, 2016, p. 45). Yet this was still far from success in an era when the Labour Party had 447,000 members,

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according to Todman, and the Conservative Party was estimated to have over one million members. The BUF appointed John Beckett as Director of Publicity and Publications in 1934, alongside William Joyce who was appointed Director of Propaganda, according to an organisational chart of the BUF (Scheme A, 1934). Known to colleagues as “the Mighty Atom” and paid £300 a year (Pugh, 2005, p. 133) Joyce was responsible for research and training BUF speakers. Joyce was a speaker for the BUF himself, as well as an organiser and had a reputation for violent and anti-Semitic rhetoric, as well as for orchestrating confrontational street events, including the notorious March in London’s East End that resulted in the Battle of Cable Street on 4 October 1936. In 1939, Joyce moved to Germany and broadcast German propaganda on a radio programme, Germany Calling, throughout World War II back to the UK in English as Lord Haw-Haw. After his arrest in 1945 by the British Army, he was returned to England, tried at the Old Bailey and was the last person in the country to be hung for treason. By the time he joined the BUF in 1934, John Beckett was already a skilled campaigner, publicist and political entrepreneur, in contrast to what he identified on arrival at the BUF headquarters in London’s King’s Road as a “huge staff of badly paid and useless people” (Beckett, 2017, p. 204) that had gathered under Mosely. Beckett had set up the National Union of Ex-Servicemen in 1918 to campaign for veteran welfare, and then worked as election agent and secretary to the future Labour Party Prime Minister, Clement Attlee, sharing his rambling house in London when Attlee was Mayor of Stepney. In this role, John Beckett deployed all his “flair for a phrase, a slogan, a propaganda method” (Beckett, 2017, p. 42) in selling Attlee to the electors of Limehouse in the 1922 general election, after which Attlee was returned as Member of Parliament (MP). Beckett then followed Attlee into the House of Commons as a Labour MP in 1924, as the youngest MP of the time. His competence, experience and talent as a political communicator was recognised by Mosley in his BUF salary of £700 a year, according to a book by his son Francis Beckett (2017, p. 165) although this is contradicted by Nicholas Mosley (1983, p. 77) who put the figure at £600. Beckett’s role was to edit the BUF’s two weekly newspapers Action and The Blackshirt, as well as Fascist Quarterly and to manage publication and distribution of all publicity material, including policy pamphlets. In this role, he proved himself a “talented propagandist [. . .] as Clement Attlee and the Gateshead Labour Party had discovered” and someone who knew how to make the BUF publications “at once a propaganda vehicle and a paper that people really want to read” (Beckett, 2017, pp. 207-208). The institutional supporters: Viscount Rothermere and Benito Mussolini In January 1934, the British Union of Fascists received a publicity boost in the form of an opinion article on the cover of the Daily Mail, headlined, “Hurrah for the Blackshirts”. The article was written by the paper’s owner, Viscount Rothermere, who declared that going forward, the BUF would have the support of all papers in the Rothermere Press group, which included the Daily Mail, Evening News and Sunday Dispatch. The article enthused about the “Blackshirt movement” and praised its organised effort to break the “stranglehold which senile politicians have so long maintained on our public affairs”, in a reference to the old gang of aging politicians and military who were blamed by the BUF in its publicity for Britain’s failings. Alongside nationalistic admiration and encouragement for the Blackshirts, the article placed its support for the BUF and optimism about its future in a European context, praising the quality of governance of Germany and Italy as “the best ruled nations in Europe today”. Rothermere’s written endorsement was important in itself, but more valuable was the practical boost in the form of free editorial publicity in three newspapers. The Rothermere papers were used to promote BUF events in the same way a modern commercial media

partnership would work today, as well as allowing Mosely a platform for his policy in the form of opinion articles. Wilfred Risdon stood down from his paid propaganda role after violence by stewards at the 7 June 1934 BUF rally at Olympia in London led to criticism and a fall-off of support from middle class supporters who were unsettled by the violent approach of the Blackshirts, with its tone providing an unwelcome association with the bloodshed that was unleashed in Germany days later by Adolph Hitler in Germany in the so-called night of the long knives. In the resulting public controversy conducted in the press, “one of the first casualties on the fascist side of the propaganda war was Lord Rothermere” (Mosley, 1983, p. 64) and by July, he had withdrawn his support from the BUF. Around the same time, Benito Mussolini began providing funds that would total around £120,000 (over seven million pounds in 2019 values) for the BUF between 1933 and 1937. Evidence of the transfer of funds exists in various communications between the Italian Foreign Office and the Italian Embassy in London, including a telegram of 25 August to the BUF (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 1933). The copy of the telegraph in Mosely’s personal papers records the dispatch of bundles of cash in five different currencies which were smuggled in the diplomatic bag from the Foreign Ministry in Rome to London to fund the BUF. The BUF’s Italian sponsors took a keen interest in BUF’s publicity matters. The Italian ambassador to Britain, Count Grandi, reported to Mussolini in favourable terms on the publicity arrangement between Rothermere and the BUF, for example, as well as personally encouraging Mosely to further cultivate the relationship: In the many conversations I had with Mosley before Christmas I managed to overcome his doubts by pointing out the immediate and practical advantages that would accrue to his movement by suddenly gaining, without effort or expense, the group of newspapers which because of its circulation and influence on the masses in Great Britain (above all in the provinces) is by far the strongest of them all. (Mosley, 1983, p. 43).

Italy, Abyssinia and the 1935 “Mind Britain’s Business” campaign One return on the Italians’ substantial investment in the BUF was the PR campaign organised by the BUF’s Publicity Director, John Beckett, against any military intervention by British forces or other nations in response to Mussolini’s invasion of Abyssinia in October 1935. Mosley was in Italy for much of 1935 soliciting further funds from Mussolini and during this period, John Beckett “effectively took control of strategy and propaganda” for the movement (Beckett, 2017, p. 206). The invasion provided a platform for the BUF to promote its policy cocktail of fascism, racism, and an anti-war “Mind Britain’s Business” stance alongside promotion of what it saw as the right sort of imperialism. Writing in Action, the Mosley henchman Alexander Raven Thomson – a philosopher who contributed to the BUF on policy matters – praised the invasion and suppression of the Abyssinians as modern imperial heroism that could be compared to the reconquering of the Sudan in the 1890s by Kitchener. According to Thompson, Mussolini was simply dealing with “barbarism with a strong hand” and courageously taking on “a barbaric enemy with a reputation for bravery and military skill” (Thomson, 1936, p. 3). In another article in Action, Robert Gordon-Canning (1936, p. 13), who wrote on foreign affairs for BUF leaflets, magazines and other publicity outlets, saw the invasion as “carrying the reign of peace to warring tribes and bringing to these backward and barbaric races the science of the West.” Under the slogan he had created, “Mind Britain’s Business”, Beckett shrewdly judged that the British population had little appetite for a war with a third party in a faraway place and orchestrated a nationwide campaign against any military action. Varied tactics were used,

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including some which might today be referred to as guerrilla marketing, such as the chalking the slogan “Mind Britain’s Business” on walls in public places, as he recalled in an unpublished biography he wrote while interned during World War II: We issued several million leaflets, organized meetings throughout the country, and initiated a great chalking campaign which roused considerable press comment. (Beckett, 1940).

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“Mind Britain’s Business” was a cannily devised political campaign PR campaign devised to influence British public opinion and put pressure on the government at a time when “ministers faced the prospect that the left and middle wing of public opinion embodied in the Peace Ballot would expect the UK to stick by its responsibilities to a fellow member of the League” (Todman, 2016, p. 77). In propaganda terms, it also represented “a true quid pro quo” in the form of a return on Italy’s investment in funding the BUF (Thurlow, 1986, p. 62). Discussion The institutional effects of the BUF’s foreign policy publicity and propaganda The BUF’s founding message was “Britain First” and in its early propaganda formulation, Britain’s enemies were domestic and lay within the “old gang” of politicians, Army Generals and Jewish business interests who had controlled and spoilt the nation, particularly through the large scale of deaths and injuries suffered by the military in World War I. Mosely, himself a World War I veteran, had been motivated in politics by the need to provide employment and security for ex-servicemen after the suffering of World War I and the economic shock of the depression from 1929 onwards. The BUF Director of Publicity John Beckett had been an activist for veteran welfare and the overall ethos of the Great War ex-serviceman was pervasive in the BUF’s ideas, modes of operating and in its foreign policy propositions. One result was large numbers of exsoldiers being drawn to the BUF’s combination of revolution and a militaristic style, without the prospect of war. In the domestic arena, this perspective led to BUF policy formulations that placed the interests of ex-servicemen against the “old gangs” that controlled politics and the military and who had been responsible for the failings and slaughter of the 1914–1918 war. In the field of international relations, the BUF did not identify and seek confrontation with external threats, but advocated a fascist peace that would result from co-operation with other fascist powers. The content and tone of this messaging was quite distinct from the more bellicose propaganda – and policy ambitions – of Italy and Germany, and did not feature in the thinking or propaganda of Goebbels, for example, nor of Mussolini, who maintained a constant belief in the inherent value of war, even after failing to execute it successfully in Italy. As the BUF’s enthusiasm for Mussolini’s intervention in Abyssinia demonstrated, the BUF could not be described as a pacifist movement. However, the movement’s commitment to veterans’ concerns about a repeat of the 1914–1918 war meant it was never bellicose in outlook. The tone and content of BUF publicity was distinct from the way militarism and territorially ambitious aggression was integrated into German and Italian fascist propaganda. German propaganda of this time conveyed a martial outlook that had also been seen on the streets in the form of the violence of its storm troopers, while in Italy, war featured as a desirable inevitability of the fascist project in propaganda that promoted the possibilities of dynamic conflict by the Arditi special forces. In contrast, BUF political public relations from the outset emphasised themes of peace, achieved through a combination of economic isolationism within the British Empire combined with comradeship with fellow fascist nations. In the BUF’s propaganda formulations, hyper-patriotism, allied to this insular economic standpoint as a result of a self-contained Empire would ensure peace by leaving other nations free to trade around the revitalized Britain. The extent to which the BUF should have adopted a distinctly British tone in its publicity or a more internationalist approach – and whether Germany or Italy should be the favoured

model to emulate – was discussed and contested within the BUF. One member of the movement reflecting on the efficacy of its publicity and propaganda, was critical of the way the BUF had already “become identified in the public mind with the Hitler Movement, chiefly through the fault of our own speakers and the tone adopted in the Blackshirt” (Guenault, 1934, p. 4) rather than the more attractive aspects of Italian fascism and propaganda. Later academic reflection has concurred with these contemporary concerns, with Thorpe (1989) concluding that the BUF suffered from its close identification with the excesses of Italian fascism and German Nazism in the public mind, while various actions by fascist states – for example night of long knives, support for Franco and Mussolini’s invasion of Abyssinia- also rebounded negatively: In spite of BUF propaganda that its programme and organisation sprang entirely from British traditions, its unfortunate similarities with aspects of foreign movements were obvious to all. The most visible sign of this was the uniform until it was banned by the Public Order Act of 1936. The Blackshirt reminded the public of Mussolini’s Italy and the jackboots of Hitler’s Germany. (Thorpe, 1989)

In 1934, as part of a wide-ranging review of the BUF’s overall operations requested by Mosely, Major General J.F.C. Fuller looked into the workings of the BUF’s publicity and propaganda outputs. Fuller (1934, p. 4), observed that “few things are more disastrous than uncontrolled and divergent propaganda.” To some extent at least, the apparent divergence can also be read as a sign of the adaptability of BUF messaging over time, moving on from a well-timed focus on the economy in the 1930s immediately after the depression to an anti-war stance as Britain moved to a war footing in the late 1930s. The BUF appeared to make a distinction between the “mythic ideological core” of its thinking and its “surface ideology” (Drabik, p. 216) and this separation of the core from day to day policy choices enabled the Blackshirts to pragmatically amend their political programme, placing emphasis on different propaganda messages over time, while the main goal of national birth remained unchanged. Sloganeering was very much part of the BUF’s commitment to simple language to promote complex policy propositions and get its message to a mass audience. As already explicated here, John Beckett was a skilled campaigner with a gift for coining an appealing phrase such as the “Mind Britain’s Business” slogan that was used in the campaign against intervening in the war in Abyssinia against Mussolini’s forces. As well as getting these messages distributed through publications, posters and leaflets, another favoured form of propaganda was simply painting the slogans on walls and buildings. The simple, strident nationalistic slogans of the BUF, such as “Britain First”, are reflected in the modern usage of “America First” by President Trump in the 2016 US election and ever since to promote his nationalistic, protectionist, unilateral and isolationist political project (although the phrase dates back to World War I, when used by both President Woodrow Wilson to promote US neutrality). There are also continuities between the BUF slogans of isolationism and the “Take Back Control” slogan and others used by Vote Leave and Leave. EU in the 2016 Brexit referendum. Beyond shrewd messaging, the BUF displayed a shrewd understanding of the press and of ways to use different media channels in order to maximise distribution. The extensive publishing operation of the BUF at its peak showed its willingness to create and deploy owned media as part of its propaganda and publicity outreach. After his ban from BBC Radio and the effective press boycott, around 1937, Mosley set up a company, Air Time Ltd., which was intended to act as a commercial radio station carrying advertisements that would broadcast to Britain from transmitters outside UK jurisdiction in Sark to the South and the German island of Heligoland to the East. Mosley intended to use the radio station to propagate the BUF message and generate revenue for the movement through advertising. The intention was to offer what is today called a talk radio station, of the type that has proved so popular and effective in building an audience and spreading right-wing ideas in the USA.

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For the BUF, as for Trump, the Tea Party movement in the USA and in the Brexit Party’s Nigel Farage in the UK, meetings and rallies were a focal point of publicity outreach that provided the opportunity for a performance by a charismatic leader and merchandising opportunities – of baseball hats and sweatshirts today, and policy leaflets and expensive tailored black shirts back in the 1930s for the BUF. In all cases, the rallies function as important outreach events in themselves, formed a spectacle for the media to report and enabled a form of political fandom or celebrity based on emotional appeal rather than policy propositions alone, as seen today with Donald Trump and Nigel Farage. Both these modern political entrepreneurs deploy a similar political public relations of performativity to Mosley, that goes beyond their role as political leaders to an emotional and performative style of communication that owes more to the world of celebrity than policy exposition, in a mode of political communication, that Mosley himself alluded to at the outset of the BUF when he stated that his aim was to appeal to those who feel rather than those who think. Conclusion Like the fascist politics it sought to propagate, the publicity and propaganda of the BUF had transnational characteristics and ambitions alongside the nationalist rhetoric of “Britain First”. This essay has presented examples in the historical record of transnational coordination, co-operation and funding for BUF messaging that were operated in concert with more local British concerns. In particular, the BUF’s 1935 “Mind Britain’s Business” campaign can be read as an effort to simultaneously undermine the League of Nations’ core principle of collective security at the international level and undermine support for British military involvement in any far away war under its obligation of mutual support, which in this case was the prospect of action against Italy to liberate Abyssinia. The slogan “Mind Britain’s Business” was used continually by the BUF and endured even after the start of World War II, by which time it was appended with the equally nationalistic campaign message that “Britain only Fights Britain’s Wars”. There is little causal evidence of whether or how the BUF’s publicity and propaganda work contributed to growth and decline of the movement in the 1930s, alongside numerous other factors such as Mosley’s leadership and key decisions, policy propositions and the political climate. The changes in the BUF’s financial position over time and presence of large donors such as Mussolini seem to have been the key driver in determining the level of PR activity, with a corresponding decline once cash flow and membership went down. The undisputed part of the historical record is that the BUF did not make the transition from a movement to a successful party in the UK political system. A combination of the British welfare system, the economic management and political stability offered by the National Governments between 1931 and 1940 produced living conditions that were not as favourable for fascist messages compared to nations such as Germany, Italy, Spain and others in mainland Europe. As Todman (2016, p. 45) observed: “The National Administration had many faults but it did create a feeling of political stability that limited the attraction of more radical alternatives. The British experience of the 1930s was not a fertile breeding ground for Fascism of Communism. In international comparison, this was a very fortunate escape”. In the broader context of national history and cultural memory, any study of the propaganda and publicity of fascism involves questions about the varied understandings of the way fascism manifested itself in different countries and the historical relativity of its importance in national life. This relativity had influenced the historical record in many ways, including in contemporary Britain, where national memory appears to have put aside the years when the country had an active fascist party and has focussed instead on Britain “morally on top of the world, fighting “alone” in what many consider to be the last good war”, (Brendon, 2017). While the BUF archives are extensive, historical relativity has led to limited

secondary sources and scrutiny of key propaganda actors. There are multiple biographies of Goebbels, for example, and many studies on Nazi propaganda. One limitation of this study is that it relied on a relatively narrow set of biographical sources. The only biography of John Beckett, for example, was written by his son and the most referenced biography of Sir Oswald Mosley was written by one of his sons. This relative paucity of material on the BUF’s propagandists compared to other European countries is itself perhaps an indication of a careless national memory in Britain on fascist matters in general and on BUF publicity and propaganda in particular. Despite its institutional volatility as evidenced by frequent changes in personnel and financial precariousness throughout the 1930s, the BUF maintained a degree of consistency in its messages on foreign policy. From the start, patriotic support of empire was consistent with its military veteran ethos and was promoted alongside a vision of a universal fascism in which a new order of fascist states entered into international co-operation. Anti-semitism was progressively added to the anti-war outlook and between 1939 and 1940, as the campaign against war with Germany reached its climax. Mosley’s sustained advocacy of a fascist internationalism of co-operation with foreign fascist states during this time sealed his fate. The BUF’s activism against war with Germany was monitored by the security services but allowed until the intensity of military operations in the Battle of France throughout 19391940, which ended with the evacuation of British forces from Dunkirk between 27 May and 4 June 1940. The Emergency Powers Act was rushed into law on 22 May 1940 and Mosley was arrested the next day, never charged with a criminal offence but interned under Defence Regulations until release from prison in November 1943, after which he was confined to house arrest until the end of the war. Despite having left the BUF in 1937, John Beckett’s continued involvement with fascism in Britain led to his arrest in May 1940 also. He was released in October 1943 but confined to a radius of five miles of his house until the end of World War II. References Allardyce, G. (1979), “What fascism is not: thoughts on the deflation of a concept”, The American Historical Review, Vol. 84 No. 2, pp. 367-388. Bannerman, S. and Haggart, B. (2015), “Historical institutionalism in communication studies”, Communication Theory, Vol. 25, pp. 1-22. Beckett, J. (1940), After My Fashion, British Union Collection, Box 5/1, Special Collections and Archives, University of Sheffield Library, Sheffield. Beckett, F. (2017), Fascist in the Family: The Tragedy of John Beckett, Routledge, Abingdon. Bentele, G. and Wiesenburg, M. (2016), “For heaven’s sake or for the church’s state. The role of the protestant church and the E.P.D in the emergence of professional public relations in Germany”, in International History of Public Relations Conference, Bournemouth University, available at: https://microsites.bournemouth.ac.uk/historyofpr/, (accessed 2 January 2019). Brendon, P. (2017), “A crop of new war films wallows in misguided nostalgia,” Prospect, 22 June”, available at: https://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/magazine/new-war-films-wallow-in-misguidednostalgia, (accessed 12 January 2019). BUF Trust Ltd (1936), Statement of Payment for A.K. Chesteron, Cadbury Research Library Special Collections, University of Birmingham, Birmingham, Oswald Mosley papers: Nicholas Mosley deposit, OMN/B/7/2. Calder, A. (1991), The Myth of the Blitz, Jonathan Cape, London. Chesterton, A. (1936), Fascism and the Press, British Union Collection Box 3/3L, Special Collections and Archives, University of Sheffield Library, Sheffield. Cooren, F. (2015), Organizational Discourse, Polity, Cambridge.

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Mosley, O. (1934), The Greater Britain, British Union of Fascists, London. Mosley, O. (1936), Fascism: 100 Questions Asked and Answered, BUF Publications, London. Mosley, O. (1939), Our Peace Policy: The Policy of British Union Was Is and Will Be, Britain First, Corporate Publicity Co., Ltd., London.

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Mosley, O. (1968), My Life, Nelson, London. Mosley, N. (1983), Beyond the Pale: Sir Oswald Mosley 1933-1980, Secker and Warburg, London. Nolte, E. (1965), Three Faces of Fascism: Action Francaise, Italian Fascism, National Socialism, Weidenfeld and Nicholson, London. Nugent, N. (1977), “The ideas of the British union of fascists”, in Nugent, N. and King, R. (Eds), The British Right: Conservative and Right Wing Politics for Britain, Dartmouth Publishing, Farnborough, pp. 3-28. Paxton, R. (1998), “The five stages of fascism”, Journal of Modern History, Vol. 70, pp. 1-23. Powell, W. and DiMaggio, P. (1991), The New Institutionalism in Organizational Analysis, University of Chicago Press, Chicago. Pugh, M. (2005), Hurrah for the Blackshirts: Fascists and Fascism between the Wars, Jonathan Cape, London. Rowe, M. (1998), The Racialisation of Disorder in Twentieth Century Britain, Routledge, London. Sandhu, S. (2015), “Towards an institutional history of PR. Five years of IHPR scholarship: categorizations and mental models of PR history”, International History of Public Relations Conference, Bournemouth University, available at: https://microsites.bournemouth.ac.uk/ historyofpr/files/2010/11/IHPRC-2015-Proceedings.pdf, (accessed 2 January 2019). Scheme, A. (1934), Scheme A and Scheme B Organisational Charts for BUF, Cadbury Research Library Special Collections, University of Birmingham, Birmingham, Oswald Mosley papers: Nicholas Mosley deposit OMN/B/7/2. Schulte-Sasse, L. (1991), “Leni Riefenstahl’s feature films and the question of a fascist aesthetic”, Cultural Critique, Vol. 18, pp. 123-148. Self, R. (2006), Neville Chamberlain: A Biography, Routledge, London. Somerville, I., Edwards, L. and Ihlen, O. (2020), Public Relations, Society and the Generative Power of History, Routledge, London. The Blackshirt (1933a), Shall Jews Drag Britain to War?, 4 November. The Blackshirt (1933b), Fascism and Peace, 17 April. The Blackshirt (1933c), World Affairs, 1 June. Thomson, A. (1936), With Kitchener to Khartoum, Action, 2 February. Thorpe, A. (1989), The Failure of Political Extremism in Inter-war Britain, University of Exeter Press, Exeter. Thurlow, R. (1986), Fascism in Britain: A History 1918-1985, Blackwell, Oxford. Todman, D. (2016), The People’s War: Into Battle 1937-41, Allen Lane, London. Wring, D. (2020), “Selling municipal socialism: local government, the Left and the transformation of political public relations in Britain”, in Somerville, I., Edwards, L. and Ihlen, O. (Eds), Public Relations, Society and the Generative Power of History, Routledge, Abingdon, pp. 145-158. Further reading Beckett, F. (1999), The Rebel Who Lost His Cause, London House, London. Beckett, J. and Thomson, R. (1935), Private Trader and Co-operator, University of Sheffield Library, Sheffield, British Union Collection, Box 3/BEC, Special Collections and Archives.

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British Union (1939), Press Lies, British Union Collection, Box 3/3L, Special Collections and Archives, University of Sheffield Library, Sheffield. Eatwell, R. (1992), “Towards a new generic model of fascism”, Journal of Theoretical Politics, Vol. 2, pp. 172-189. Joyce, W. (1937), “Fascist peace”, Action, Vol. 49, p. 6. Mosley, O. (1938), Tomorrow We Live, London: Abbey Supplies/British Union, London.

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Mosley Newsletter (1948), Some Pre-war History British Union and William Joyce, University of Sheffield Library, Sheffield, John Beckett Collection, 238/5/19, Special Collections and Archives. Payne, S. (1980), “The concept of fascism”, in Larsen, S., Hagtvet, B. and Myklebust, J. (Eds), Who Were the Fascists: Social Roots of European Fascism, Univeritsforlarget, Bergen, pp. 14-24. Rothermere, H. (1934), Letter to Oswald Mosely, 2 May, Cadbury Research Library Special Collections, University of Birmingham, Birmingham, Oswald Mosley papers: Nicholas Mosley deposit, OMN/B/7/2.

Corresponding author Gareth Thompson can be contacted at: [email protected]

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Authorial voice(s): the writing styles of Francis X. Carty

Authorial voice(s)

Conor McGrath School of Communication and Media, Ulster University, Belfast, UK Abstract Purpose – The paper aims to analyse the published work of Ireland’s pre-eminent public relations (PR) educator, across a number of literary genres in which he has written. More broadly, it considers the writing life of academics. Design/methodology/approach – This paper examines Carty’s writings about his own history, Irish history, the development of church-state relations in Ireland and PR. It seeks to make connections between Carty’s subjects and his writing styles. Findings – Through detailed analysis of a number of key texts, the paper explores the writing styles used by Carty to discern the nature of his distinctive “voice(s)”. Research limitations/implications – There is considerable research into a handful of (mostly American) “great men” in PR’ history and development. But every nation has its own PR pioneers about whom little is known outside that country and who deserve to be more widely recognised. Originality/value – This paper hopes to stimulate future work by other colleagues in other nations, reflecting on the contribution of their own PR educators and practitioners. Keywords Francis X. Carty, Public relations, Ireland, PR textbooks, Issue management, Relationship management, Academic writing Paper type Viewpoint

Introduction We know a great deal about a handful of (mostly American) “great men” in the history and development of public relations (PR). It is understandable that scholars interested in PR historiography would begin by looking at those who were early innovators and who certainly left their imprint on the industry (and often left behind their own writings or archived material about their accomplishments). So, in the United States, a great deal of attention has been paid to men such as Ivy Ledbetter Lee (Hiebert, 1966), Edward Bernays (Tye, 1998) and Arthur Page (Griese, 2001), while useful studies exist of notable UK practitioners such as Stephen Tallents (Anthony, 2013) and Basil Clarke (Evans, 2013). In addition, scores of conference papers and journal articles examine particular aspects of the work of these men, and we get further insight into their careers in more general histories of PR (Cutlip, 1994; Ewen, 1996; L’Etang, 2004). This biographical approach in PR can be fairly criticised for largely overlooking women (Lamme, 2015) or for unduly focusing on individuals rather than institutional or structural power (L’Etang, 2013). And yet it is one strand of research which can contribute to our overall knowledge about the industry. In this article, I urge scholars not to abandon the biographical approach, but to broaden it out beyond those figures who have now been extensively researched. Every nation has its own PR pioneers who should be more widely recognised. The pre-eminent PR educator in the Republic of Ireland is Francis Xavier Carty. Francis Carty’s greatest contribution to PR lies in the careers of the students he taught over 25 years; he is “one of the great pioneers in education in public relations in Ireland” (Deegan, 2001, p. viii). They, above all, appreciate the full extent of his commitment to genuine communication in our society. However, another facet of his role is also important and more amenable to analysis: his published work. On the printed page, F.X. Carty speaks to untold numbers of PR practitioners, students, scholars and citizens. (I use the convenient abbreviation “PR”, but acknowledge Carty’s (1995a, p. xii) view: “I am not one who wants to

593 Received 18 November 2019 Revised 15 May 2020 2 July 2020 Accepted 3 July 2020

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get rid of the term ‘public relations’ because it has become ‘user-unfriendly’. . .. I abhor the nickname ‘PR’ which is so commonly used”.) Carty’s first appearance in print was a letter to The Lion, a popular boys’ magazine, in 1955, for which he won a prize of five shillings: Hobbies occupy a lot of time with most boys, and this week’s news is about some of them. FRANCIS CARTY, a member from Dublin, writes: “I spend a lot of my spare time writing biographies. I started off by writing about cricketers, but now musical composers have taken their place. My mother, anxious that I should learn something about the lives of great men of music, offered to give me sixpence for each completed biography of a composer. Instead of collecting my money after each story, I am waiting until fifty of them have been prepared”. It sounds as though you may blossom forth into an author when you grow up, Francis, with an eye to the cash value of your work, too (Anon, 1955).

While The Lion’s editor noted the somewhat mercenary nature of Carty’s endeavours, it is the prolific output of the 13-year-old which is most uncommon. Brown (2005, p. 2) reminds us that academics “write for a living. They publish or perish. They put words on the page, occasionally in the right order. . .. their professional standing is predicated on the written word”. Some PR scholars build a formidable reputation on their research articles, while others produce textbooks so successfully as to constitute a cottage industry. No PR academic, however, has experimented with such a variety of writing genres as Francis X. Carty: his work ranges over the scholarly, textbooks, autobiography and historical narrative. Indeed, he has also drafted an unpublished historical novel, and did publish a fictional short story in the July 1968 issue of the UK dog-lovers’ Tail-Wagger and Family Magazine (contrarily, his story was about a cat, not a dog). This essay cannot cover all Carty’s published work: aside from his journalistic output, he wrote nine religious pamphlets from 1968 to 1972 (most of them published by the Catholic press, Veritas), and two booklets on media coverage of the 1981 and 1982 Irish general elections (Carty, 1981, 1983). Instead, we consider here what might be regarded as his most substantial works: (1) In Bloody Protest: The Tragedy of Patrick Pearse – a radical evaluation of one of Irish nationalism’s iconic figures; (2) Why I Said No to God – a startlingly frank account of Carty’s years preparing for the Catholic priesthood; (3) Farewell to Hype: The Emergence of Real Public Relations – Carty’s manifesto for PR as a senior management function; (4) From John Paul to Saint Jack: Public Relations in Ireland – case studies written by his students and edited by Carty, illustrating a wide range of Irish PR campaigns; (5) Hold Firm: John Charles McQuaid and The Second Vatican Council – an unusually balanced assessment of the legacy of Ireland’s most controversial cleric; (6) The Impact of the Second Vatican Council on the Archdiocese of Dublin: Issue and Relationship Management in Turbulent Times – essentially Carty’s PhD thesis, which examines McQuaid explicitly through the prism of PR theories; and (7) Bruises, Baws and Bastards: Glimpses into a Long Life Passing – a collection of 46 vignettes from his personal and professional history. This article analyses the extent to which Carty’s publications conform to writing genre orthodoxies, considers his varied approaches to writing, identifies how Carty is present in his texts and contextualises his contributions to our understanding of Irish society and PR.

Historical narrative More than a simple biography of the life of its subject, the wider scope of Francis Carty’s first book is evident from its subtitle. In Bloody Protest: The Tragedy of Patrick Pearse, is an assured historical narrative (see White, 1984). Wertsch (1997, p. 11) suggests that narrative: “has a central subject; an identifiable narrative voice; it makes connections between events; it achieves closure, a conclusion, a resolution”. Stone (1979, p. 3) defines narrative as, “the organization of material in a chronologically sequential order and the focusing of the content into a single coherent story. . .. its central focus is on man not circumstances”. The purpose of historical narrative is not to tell a story about the past, but rather by doing so to shed light upon wider society and culture. This act of interpretation, of drawing out the story’s meaning, underpins Carty’s provocative perspective on the life of a national icon who led an armed rebellion against the British rule. Eschewing the conventions of chronological biography, Carty (1978, p. 14) structures his book thematically around four paths which led to Pearse’s execution: Home (“his republican family”), C u Chulainn (“his adulation of Irish mythology”), Christ (“his mystic identity with Jesus Christ the Messiah”) and Wolfe Tone (“his immersion in the rebellious side of Irish history”). Exploring Pearse’s intellectual and emotional development through these key components in his psychology is in itself a profound insight, enabling Carty to offer a cogent reading of Pearse’s meaning. The elegance of Carty’s sentence construction is evident throughout. For instance: Pearse “seemed to put a higher value on dying for Ireland and being remembered than on living for it and being forgotten” (Carty, 1978, p. 13). The fundamental truth which Carty (1978, p. 54) captures better than other biographers is the extent to which Pearse lived within “the Irish paradox” and “the Christian paradox”, and the deadly consequences of Pearse’s response to this burden. Despite the apparent inevitability of Pearse’s victory in hindsight, Carty (1978, p. 132) astutely realises that Pearse had no popular mandate for his rebellion, that his reputation was secured only by British overreaction: “Pearse and the men of 1916 would probably have been forgotten . . . had it not been for the executions”. Carty recognises that history is not a neutral statement of facts about the past. Rather, how it is told powerfully shapes our individual and national identity (Wertsch, 1997). Carty’s account was written for ordinary citizens rather than for historians: I have written this book to expose the myth of 1916 and the false interpretation of Irish history which created it and keeps it alive today in the Provisionals. . .. I have written this book as a contribution towards peace in Ireland in my time. Patrick Pearse did nothing to bring about that peace. . .. His was not the triumph of failure, but a terrible mistake, a tragedy . . . the like of which must never be allowed to happen again (1978, pp. 139–40).

Such outright revisionism of Pearce’s meaning was not popular – either at the time or now – and demonstrates Carty’s intellectual courage, particularly given that his father had been the editor of newspapers owned by Eamon de Valera who fought with Pearse in the Easter Rising. This is, naturally, Pearse as seen through Carty’s eyes, coloured by Carty’s politics and emotions: as Denzin (1994, p. 503) argues, “representation . . . is always selfpresentation. . . the Other’s presence is directly connected to the writer’s self-presence in the text”. It is an unsettling work which confronts and demythologises Pearse’s story utterly. Autobiography In his candid 1986 autobiography, Why I Said No to God, Carty moves from collective to individual history, appreciating that history is the articulation of lived experience. Crane notes (disapprovingly) that, “The increasingly professionalized role of historians as those publicly entrusted with the duty of memory . . . apparently made it incumbent upon

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practicing historians to retract almost all vestiges of personal memories or personal involvement in the production of history” (1997, p. 1375). This is not how Francis X. Carty approaches history: in both In Bloody Protest and – to a much greater extent – Why I Said No to God, Carty is present in his text and reveals his personal responses to Irish history. His autobiography frames a turning point for the Catholic Church in Ireland in terms of his own history. In these memoirs, Carty covers the period from 1958 to 1965, when he was 17–24 years old. The book opens with a glimpse of Carty as a boy, quite different from most boys even of his own time: “For several years I had had an interest in religious things with recurring spells of immature piousity. This led me to set up an altar in my bedroom and to cover the whole bedroom with purple paper during Lent” (1986, p. 8). Fr Pearse Moloney (the Novice Master at the Holy Ghost Noviate in Kilshane, Tipperary, who became Carty’s immediate superior) interviewed Carty about his sense of vocation: He quizzed me on why I wanted to be a priest. I couldn’t give him any reason except that I wanted to be one. I surprised him by not even being able to name the three vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. . .. At the end I was surprised that the interview had not been more searching. It was certainly not a test of suitability (Carty, 1986, p. 13).

Nonetheless, Carty was accepted by the Holy Ghost Congregation, and entered Kilshane on 1 September 1958. It was an uncongenial and spartan environment, designed to crush any traces of individuality. The use of Christian names among novices was forbidden to discourage any form of close friendship. Casual conversation was discouraged: “Religious life did not have any room for “Good Night” or “Good Morning”” (Carty, 1986, p. 17). How many of today’s recruits in the Catholic Church could find themselves in the same position as Carty was in 1958? He was then “preparing to take a vow of chastity but had not the slightest idea what it meant. . .. Far from having lost my virginity by the age of seventeen, I did not even know that there was such a thing as virginity. The Blessed Virgin Mary was merely a name to me” (Carty, 1986, pp. 37–38). One wonders why the Catholic Church would even want someone so uninformed as a priest. Yet it is clear from Carty’s account that the regime at Kilshane was geared towards absolute indoctrination of the novices and the dismantling of their capacity to think rationally. To a modern reader, the following passage may seem akin to life in a cult or in North Korea. Discussing Easter weekend in 1959, Carty records (1986, p. 39) that, “Saturday was a day of meaningless emptiness for we were being trained to rely so completely on Christ rather than on human friendship that we could really do nothing that day with Christ gone from us”. The disconnect between Carty’s inner confusion and outward commitment substantially increased once he completed his year at Kilshane and moved to the Holy Ghost Missionary College at Kimmage. Even so, Carty (1986, p. 57) did not question his choice: “Christ had called me. I had no right to refuse him. Not for a moment did I consider that human friendship might be a human answer to any of my problems”. It was now decided by his superiors – with no consultation – that Carty would be taking a science degree, although he had no interest in science. Conscious of his vow of obedience, Carty accepted his fate. Matters came to a head in March 1962 when Carty suffered a nervous collapse on the day of physics exam: “The depression was overpowering. . .. My former self was a mirage that grew dimmer” (1986, p. 89). At the time, Carty was preparing to take his religious vows for life. Only now did he begin to seriously consider what they meant, in particular the concept of chastity. He asked one priest to explain sexual intercourse, and was told that “in humans it normally took place as in monkeys. I nodded assent although I had not the slightest idea how the monkeys did it” (Carty, 1986, p. 94). Despite all his doubts, Carty did take religious vows for life in September 1962, because he could not imagine how to avoid them: “I knew in the instant of taking the vows that I had made a mistake. . .. I had put a noose around my neck, intending to leave it there for life”

(Carty, 1986, p. 98). One is left with a sense of astonishment that the Catholic Church would be so willing to bind to itself any young man so patently unhappy and unsuitable. In the midst of Carty’s deepening depression – so unbearable that “for me, prayer no longer meant anything” (1986, p. 109) – it was decided that following completion of his degree, he would teach botany and science at Rockwell College in Tipperary – this despite the fact that he literally begged his superior not to send him there. Again, Carty bowed to the demands of religious obedience, and again the consequences were disastrous. On the night of 9/10 December 1964, he lay awake contemplating his future existence as a priest when for the first time, “the obvious answer to my problems floated surely to the front of mind. I would leave. I would abandon the idea of being a priest. . .. Peace came over me. My battle of sixand-a-half years was over” (Carty, 1986, p. 121). The process of extricating himself from the vows he had already taken was a difficult one, but he received formal dispensation from the Vatican which he accepted on 18 July 1965. Carty re-entered the world as a free man, though one who would forever be profoundly marked by the experiences recounted in these memoirs. The book is an exemplar for the notion that “the interpretation of data is a reflexive exercise through which meanings are made rather than found” (Mauthner and Doucet, 2003, p. 414). An observation Carty recorded in his diary is particularly revealing in light of the path he subsequently took. On 23 October 1964, after being at Rockwell for a few weeks, he writes that, “Teaching could be quite enjoyable if one were teaching an attractive subject” (Carty, 1986, p. 120). While Carty had to wait another 15 years before the ideal teaching subject emerged – in the form of a PR certificate at Rathmines College of Commerce – once it did, he and PR education were a perfect fit. In his second memoir, Bruises, Baws and Bastards, Carty revisits important scenes from his personal and professional lives – often, highly personal. In the first chapter alone, we learn that his face was bruised at birth and that he was circumcised at 2 days of age, hear of his experiences on the baw (his mother’s euphemism for a chamber pot) and are told of his childhood outrage on discovering that some children are born to unmarried parents! Several chapters recount his experiences training for the priesthood and his ultimate decision to abandon his religious vows and return to secular life in 1965. He updates the story by describing how he returned to the Catholic Church in 2002: “I was physically pushed out the door by a force which I can only describe as supernatural. It could not be resisted. I went to Queen of Peace Church. . .. God asked me to come back to him and I have said Yes” (Carty, 2017, pp. 236–237). And there are intensely moving passages describing the depression with which Francis Carty struggled for close to 60 years, including three occasions when he endured suicidal thoughts and more frequent periods of real distress: “I realised that for the rest of my life my “dark place” will be just on the touch-line of the field where I am playing out my life and coping with it shall be forever my problem” (Carty, 2017, p. 243). Of particular interest to PR scholars will be those chapters in which Carty discusses his career in PR. It began in a somewhat roundabout fashion when he entered a competition in 1966 to rewrite in a less formal style a government report on the economy. Carty won a prize for his treatment of agricultural policy, which led to an invitation to help write a report for the Irish young farmers’ association, under the chairmanship of PR practitioner Larry Sheehy. And that eventually led Carty – following four years as publications officer at a public body – to join Sheehy’s Farmlink Public Relations, where he met a new colleague, Michael Connolly, with whom he established Able Public Relations in 1978. Carty joined Dublin Institute of Technology as lecturer in journalism and PR in 1981. He served as president of the Public Relations Institute of Ireland in 1995 and 1996, became a life fellow in 1999 and was the Institute’s external examiner for its diploma course in PR from 1997 to 2016. In these roles, he has had a profound impact on the teaching and practice of PR in Ireland for decades. Carty’s own memoirs – alongside his textbooks – are, in part, the first

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draft of an Irish PR history (Culbertson, 2006), though the comprehensive treatment of that history is yet to be written. PR textbooks Carty (1992, p. v) sets out his manifesto for PR on the opening page of Farewell to Hype: “Public relations is now of age and has to say farewell to hype. . .. Public relations [is] concerned with the effect of company behaviour upon reputation”. The book is divided into four sections – what PR is, its tools and techniques, the audiences at which it is directed and the sectors in which PR is employed in Ireland. This conceptual framework enables Carty to structure a coherent pathway by which the reader is guided logically through PR practice. Written more discursively than most PR textbooks – thus, more readable and engaging than most – Farewell to Hype is the product of Carty’s experience at that time of more than 20 years of professional know-how and of over a decade of teaching. It is idiosyncratic in the best sense: Carty’s personality and individual style are ever-present. Carty largely shares the conventional view of PR – a management function concerned with strategic communication and relationships, focused on long-term credibility and reputation, combining technical competence and counselling expertise – but conveys this view in a more realistic manner than many US textbooks deliver. His perspective is positive, but not wholly uncritical. Farewell to Hype is atypical of PR textbooks – it is short with relatively few citations to other books, and contains no diagrams. However, the usefulness of its content and the clarity of its prose make this a rewarding read. That Francis X. Carty produced From John Paul to Saint Jack to showcase their work reveals his dedication to his students. As editor, contributing only one chapter himself (1995b), Carty assembles here (1995a) a rich variety of case studies illustrating the challenges and opportunities for Irish PR. Carty makes a significant contribution by being the first to offer a distinctive account of PR as it is practised in Ireland. PR students around the world must still rely too heavily on US textbooks, even though these say little about the socio-economic and political systems in which the students will make their careers (Vercic, 2000; Vercic et al., 2001). Recognition of how national culture impacts PR in any given country has been slow in developing, though there is by now a steady stream of such work. An article comparing PR scholarship in Australia/New Zealand and the USA lamented the paucity of textbooks and research from the former countries (McKie and Munshi, 2004) – and the position in Ireland was then in a comparable state. Since then, however, there has been an outpouring of substantial and significant PR research from Down Under. Although as Carty (2004, p. 207) notes, “Public relations research in Ireland is still in its infancy”, the potential for the discipline to mature certainly exists among the Irish academic community (Madigan, 2017). Not only were Carty’s two works the first Irish PR textbooks, they were also early contributions to the emerging body of literature exploring PR’s development worldwide. Carty’s role in highlighting the distinctive nature of Irish PR has been immense, as his textbooks add greatly to our collective knowledge of the role of national culture in PR practice. There is a value to PR practitioners, scholars and students everywhere in having a more diverse range of examples to draw on than those which appear in US textbooks. One recent book series has taken a substantial step forward in our awareness of the important of the national context to PR (Watson, 2014a, 2014b; 2014c, 2014d, 2015). In the Irish case, for instance, PR emerged in the public sector, with the appointment in 1928 of a PR officer to the Electricity Supply Board (Colley, 1993) – Ned Lawler, a former journalist who would go on to become the first chairman of the Public Relations Institute of Ireland in 1953. And PR in Ireland has developed over the last 90þ years in particular ways, operating with a particular media industry and within a particular socio-political environment. Carty’s PR textbooks

(1992, 1995a) deal with very specifically Irish producers of PR (such as the Gaelic Athletic Association) and Irish PR campaigns. Scholarship on lobbying often notes the paradox that while we know more about interest groups in the United States than in any other political system, America is an exceptional rather than a typical case. Lobbying is different in the USA for reasons of historical constitutionalism, scope and scale, political culture and institutional design. A point made much less frequently, however, is that lobbying is different everywhere, for similar reasons. Each nation has an exceptional interest group system. That is not to say that lobbying techniques and tactics are not similar in most locations, for they are – and increasingly so. In every interest group community – to greater or lesser extents and to greater or lesser degrees of effectiveness – lobbyists talk directly to policy-makers, join coalitions, stimulate grassroots efforts, undertake policy research and frame policy issues, use the media to advance issues and so on. These activities, if not entirely universal, are quite common. What is exceptional about every lobbying environment is the political, cultural and institutional framework within which those ubiquitous activities occur. Each political nation has its own legal and informal “rules” which determine how lobbyists can operate most effectively. Exactly the same is true of PR. It emerged in each nation as a professional activity, it developed and professionalised, it employed tactics to greater or lesser effect, all within a very specific national, cultural, context. Although PR researchers have begun to recognise this, much more work is needed in almost every country to describe and explain that nation’s history and narrative of PR. Every nation has an individual (and in some respects, an idiosyncratic) approach to PR. Well before most academics had realised this, Carty was charting the specific nature of PR in his nation. In his preface to Farewell to Hype, Carty wrote (1992, p. vi): “These are first words but definitely not last words. Many issues are merely raised, leaving deeper analysis to a later day”. Since Carty’s two textbooks were published, the media landscape has changed almost unrecognisably; PR practice has moved into new specialisms and developed new tools; we have vastly more academic articles on which to draw; and the examples included in Carty’s texts are inevitably dated. Carty’s “later day” is here now: while Irish PR students and practitioners have been well served for 20 years by Carty’s textbooks, the next generation needs a new edition of Farewell to Hype. Scholarly monographs Carty’s work has turned towards explicitly research-based monographs, and towards the area of church-state relations. Hold Firm examines Archbishop John Charles McQuaid’s involvement with the 1962–1965 Second Vatican Council. As Ireland’s most controversial cleric in the last century, McQuaid aroused feelings of either veneration or hostility, but is drawn by Carty in shades of grey rather than in black or white, revealing a man quite different from his public image. Carty highlights McQuaid’s attention to PR issues – his creation of a Public Image Committee in 1963 to improve the church’s reputation, and of a Dublin Diocesan Press Office two years later. There were tensions inherent in his relationship with the media, with the press office’s director complaining that he did not always receive from McQuaid the full information necessary to do the job. Similarly, McQuaid was frequently concerned that he should be able to exert more influence over the national broadcaster’s personnel, policies and programming. Carty’s deft use of archival and interview material layers into a nuanced portrayal of McQuaid’s handling of the Council and its repercussions, concluding that he “managed efficiently his diocese’s responses to it” (2007, p. 160). He perceives McQuaid’s flaws – his “communication was traditionally one-way, allowing little or no room for discussion” and “his style of rule was autocratic” (Carty, 2007, p. 161) – but does so within the context of a balanced assessment. Indeed, this book offers the best researched and least biased portrait of McQuaid

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to date. Girvin (2008, p. 460) cites Hold Firm as offering evidence of the paradox that “a change in Rome had such a significant impact on individuals and institutions in Ireland”. While Hold Firm was written for a commercial audience, Carty’s next monograph was emphatically scholarly in tone. Derived from his PhD thesis, his 2010 book on The Impact of the Second Vatican Council on the Archdiocese of Dublin considers that Council from an explicit and theoretical PR perspective. The book is unlikely to receive as much attention from PR academics as it deserves, because its ostensible subject is apparently far removed from their field. But, in fact, Carty develops a detailed argument regarding relationship and issue management which has applicability well beyond this particular case. Specifically, McQuaid’s attitudes and behaviour are analysed by Carty in terms of his relationships with others. He finds (2010, p. 255) that: between archbishop and priests, there was an emphasis on trust, as shown in loyalty and obedience, mixed with fear and awe. . .. Other indicators were formality, remoteness and McQuaid’s certitude and his difficulties with consultation and dialogue. The strongest indicators in the archbishop-laity relationships were his remoteness and invisibility.

PR scholars will be interested in what Carty (2010, p. 391) describes as “an interesting diversion along the way”, not fully addressed in his main text but included as an Appendix (see 2010, pp. 391–92 and 525–42). Carty believes that the academic literature understates the complexity of the interplay between issues and relationships, “neglecting the fact that in every instance there were many issues, many actors, many relationships, many episodes interacting at the same time” (2010, p. 391). He suggests an intriguing hypothesis: “The more dominant an issue and the more significant it is for the partners in a public relationship, the more possible it is to identify some, but never all, of its influence and impact upon the relationship” (Carty, 2010, p. 526). Carty theorises that an issue’s life cycle – emergence, dissemination, establishment, erosion, re-emergence – should be thought of in circular rather than linear form, to better reflect its cyclical nature. Within this circle, the organisation’s experiences of the issue and the experiences of its relevant publics are imagined as coil-like, as the issue extends over time. When the organisation and public interact, their coils are depicted as crossing paths: “The contacts can be likened to wires touching – sometimes there is no reaction, sometimes a spark, sometimes an explosion” (Carty, 2010, p. 530). This pattern of an organisation’s relationships with its publics over an issue’s life cycle builds up diagrammatically into a complex, even chaotic, cluster of separate and overlapping coils of various sizes and directions which Carty (2010, p. 532) thinks of as a “whirlpool”. How Carty makes sense of such frenetic activity is by emphasising the importance of an individual in the midst of this collective behaviour, suggesting a path along which the organisation can “return to simplicity” (2010, p. 536). Public relations ought to proceed from the individual and private out to the collective and public: Managers should be advised not to let generalisations and stereotypes get in the way. . .. They should think of the juggler with all those balls in the air. He does not attempt a strategy to catch all of them at the same time, but he catches each one individually and then the next – very rapidly but watching carefully and never taking his eye off the next one to come (Carty, 2010, pp. 537–38).

His attempt to resolve the question of how to place the individual back at the centre of issue and relationship management is thought-provoking and potentially fruitful. The original conference paper outlining his thinking (Carty, 2003) attracted some attention: Carty’s idea of a circular life cycle was noted by Alison Theaker (2004), and an influential issue management practitioner included Carty’s paper among several theories proposing a cyclical framework, although he opined that “none of these constructs has gained broad acceptance” (Jaques, 2009, p. 38).

Carty has extended his work on McQuaid into a wide-ranging discussion of twentiethcentury Ireland. One conference paper compares Eamon de Valera and John Charles McQuaid – the towering figures of Irish society in the 50 years after independence – and charts the course of church-state relations: “All members of the early governments were Christians and almost all were Catholic. They agreed with the teachings of their Church and were happy to apply them (Carty, 2011, p. 89, p. 89)”. This happy coincidence of self-interests has somewhat eroded over the past two decades as politics becomes relatively secularised and as the Catholic Church has lost considerable moral authority through scandals involving child sex abuse by priests. In a book chapter, Carty (2014) expands his theme of changing patterns of church-state interplay and highlights instances of ineffective PR and relationship management on both sides.

Conclusion Typically, scholars are placed under immense pressure to “publish or perish”, to write journal articles which are consumed only by a few other scholars and to conform to arbitrary dictates imposed by research quality assessment boards (Antoniou and Moriarty, 2008; Blaxter et al., 1998; Lee and Boud, 2003). Pelias (2004, p. 10) describes vividly the dissatisfaction which such a regime can produce in many academics: They were teaching students who seemed more interested in grades than learning. They were working for administrators who seemed more concerned with the bottom line than quality education. . .. Productivity was the motto of the day, so they published article after article that no one seemed to read, particularly those who were the focus of the study. . .. They researched topics that got them promotion and tenure but seemed removed from who they were. They felt empty, despondent, disillusioned.

This has emphatically not been Francis X. Carty’s experience of academia. Carty worked in a time and place such that he could avoid the common trap whereby an academic’s self-identity becomes defined through institutional politics rather than though ideals of service, scholarship and pedagogy (Sparkes, 2007). Crucially, Carty wrote what he chose, when he believed he had something to say. His writings are not separate from him, but arise from his experiences, expertise and character. Other PR academics have greater output, but none project better than Carty the imprint of their personality onto the pages of their work. The words of Laurel Richardson (1997, p. 19) apply to Francis X. Carty more than to most academics: “What I choose to write about, how I choose to write it, and for whom I write it say more about me than sociodemographics, personality inventories or horoscopes”. Hyland (2005, pp. 175–76) argues that, “In claiming a right to be heard . . . writers must display a competence as disciplinary insiders. . .. achieved through a writer-reader dialogue which situates both their research and themselves”. The ways in which authors manage this textually (Hyland, 2005, p. 177) include rhetorical devices such as attitude markers (indicating a sense of shared values with the reader), self-mention, personal asides (the author figuratively turning to the reader with a brief comment), appeals to shared knowledge (treating the author and reader as disciplinary peers) and direct questions (inviting an explicit response from the reader). In Carty’s work, we see instances of all these types of author-reader interactions. It has been said that, “Writing is among a professional communicator’s most marketable skills and may be the most challenging to acquire” (Hardin and Pompper, 2004, p. 357). We cannot gauge from the books considered here in what manner Francis X. Carty acquired his writing skills, since he had been working as a print journalist for a decade before the first of these books was published. However, we see in the books discussed here a man comfortable with his writing technique and with his identity as “writer and academic with a legitimate

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voice and contribution” (Cameron et al., 2009, p. 270). One of Carty’s qualities, in whatever genre he is writing, is the sense he projects on the printed page of being engaged in a conversation with his readers (Cameron et al., 2009, pp. 279–80). In formal terms, Carty’s use of the first -person pronoun in his writings tends to be more than merely pragmatic, instead positively revealing “authorial presence” (Harwood, 2005, p. 344), and it acknowledges that “social scientists, inevitably and correctly, have material . . . emotions about the subject they study” (Davies, 2012, p. 750). One American sociologist notes: “Academics are given the “story line” that the “I” should be suppressed in their writing, that they should accept homogenization and adopt the all-knowing, all-powerful voice of the academy. But . . . [we] are always present in our texts, no matter how we try to suppress ourselves” (Richardson, 1997, p. 2). This artificial suppression of the self is commonplace in academia – the Author Guidelines for this journal, for instance, state that: “Authors should avoid the use of personal pronouns within the structured abstract and body of the paper (e.g. “this paper investigates . . .” is correct, “I investigate . . .” is incorrect)”. But why should this be so? What is the value to the reader of the author absenting him/herself from their text? Is the reader better informed by the phrase “The interviews were coded thematically”, than by “I coded the interviews thematically”? To some – including Francis Carty (and the present author) – this insistence on denying the individual scholar’s role and presence in their own work is not merely unnecessary but positively damaging. Carty rejects the pseudo-scientific approach to PR scholarship in favour of a more humanistic writing style, to the benefit of his readers. Francis X. Carty is unquestionably the pre-eminent PR educator in Ireland, the father of Irish PR education. No academic has trained as many of the country’s future PR practitioners as he. His perspective on PR is positive, but not wholly uncritical: the premise of Farewell to Hype (1992) is that Irish PR in the past was not always of the highest quality, but that it had by the 1990s begun to professionalise. We have some empirical evidence for this: O’Dwyer found that only two of seven components of PR being regarded as a senior management function were met by Irish companies in 1993, but that a decade later, five of the seven conditions were being satisfied. While many factors were responsible for this progress, one not explored by O’Dwyer may well have been the growing influence of Carty’s teaching over time as his former students moved upwards through the industry and propagated within their organisations what they had learnt from him. What we can all, as PR researchers, learn from Francis Carty is the importance of connecting with our readers, and the cultural foundation of PR practice. References Anon (1955), “In our postbag!”, The Lion, The Lion, 12 March. Anthony, S. (2013), Public Relations and the Making of Modern Britain: Stephen Tallents and the Birth of a Progressive Media Profession, Manchester University Press, Manchester. Antoniou, M. and Moriarty, J. (2008), “What can academic writers learn from creative writers?: developing guidance and support for lecturers in higher education”, Teaching in Higher Education, Vol. 13 No. 2, pp. 157-167, doi: 10.1080/13562510801923229. Blaxter, L., Hughes, C. and Tight, M. (1998), “Writing on academic careers”, Studies in Higher Education, Vol. 23 No. 3, pp. 281-295, doi: 10.1080/03075079812331380256. Brown, S. (2005), Writing Marketing: Literary Lessons from Academic Authorities, Sage, London. Cameron, J., Nairn, K. and Higgins, J. (2009), “Demystifying academic writing: reflections on emotions, know-how and academic identity”, Journal of Geography in Higher Education, Vol. 33 No. 2, pp. 269-284, doi: 10.1080/03098260902734943. Carty, F.X. (1978), In Bloody Protest: The Tragedy of Patrick Pearse, Able Press, Dublin. Carty, F.X. (1981), Press Coverage of the 1981 General Election, Able Press, Dublin.

Carty, F.X. (1983), Elections ’82: What the Papers Said, Able Press, Dublin. Carty, F.X. (1986), Why I Said No to God, Able Press, Dublin.

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Carty, F.X. (1992), Farewell to Hype: The Emergence of Real Public Relations, Able Press, Dublin. Carty, F.X. (Ed.) (1995a), From John Paul to Saint Jack: Public Relations in Ireland, Able Press, Dublin. Carty, F.X. (1995b), “The taste of the Mediterranean – the olive oil information campaign”, in Carty, F.X. (Ed.), From John Paul to Saint Jack: Public Relations in Ireland, Able Press, Dublin, pp. 59-65. Carty, F.X. (2003), “Interaction between issue management and relationship management and influence upon public relationships – an individual perspective”, Paper Presented at the Institute of Public Relations conference on Current Debates in Public Relations Research and Practice, 1012 April, Bournemouth. Carty, F.X. (2004), “Ireland”, in Van Ruler, B. and Vercic, D. (Eds), Public Relations and Communication Management in Europe, Mouton de Gruyter, Berlin, pp. 201-216. Carty, F.X. (2007), Hold Firm: John Charles McQuaid and the Second Vatican Council, Columba Press, Blackrock. Carty, F.X. (2010), The Impact of the Second Vatican Council on the Archdiocese of Dublin: Issue and Relationship Management in Turbulent Times, LAP Lambert, Saarbrucken. Carty, F.X. (2011), “The influence of state and church on the growth of public relations in postindependence Ireland, 1921 to 1973”, Proceedings of the Second International History of Public Relations Conference in Bournemouth, pp. 86-95, available at: http://microsites.bournemouth.ac. uk/historyofpr/files/2010/11/IHPRC-2011-Proceedings.pdf (accessed 1 May 2019). Carty, F.X. (2014), “State and church as public relations history in Ireland, 1922-2011”, in St John, B., Lamme, M.O. and L’Etang, J. (Eds), Pathways to Public Relations: Histories of Practice and Profession, Routledge, London, pp. 28-40. Carty, F.X. (2017), Bruises, Baws and Bastards: Glimpses into a Long Life Passing, Able Press, Dublin. Carty, X. (1968), “The last of the pussycats–a family chronicle”, Tail-Wagger and Family Magazine, Vol. 38 No. 7, pp. 24-28. Colley, M. (1993), The Communicators: The History of the Public Relations Institute of Ireland 19531993, Public Relations Institute of Ireland, Dublin. Crane, S.A. (1997), “Writing the individual back into collective memory”, American Historical Review, Vol. 102 No. 5, pp. 1372-1385, doi: 10.1086/ahr/102.5.1372. Culbertson, H. (2006), “The professional’s memoir as a public relations resource: a book review essay”, Public Relations Quarterly, Vol. 51 No. 3, pp. 7-9. Cutlip, S.M. (1994), The Unseen Power: Public Relations: A History, Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Hillsdale. Davies, P. (2012), “‘Me’, ‘me’, ‘me’: the use of the first person in academic writing and some reflections on subjective analyses of personal experiences”, Sociology, Vol. 46 No. 4, pp. 744-752, doi: 10. 1177/0038038512437897. Deegan, D. (2001), Managing Activism: A Guide to Dealing with Activists and Pressure Groups, Kogan Page, London. Denzin, N.K. (1994), “The art and politics of interpretation”, in Denzin, N.K. and Lincoln, Y.S. (Eds), Handbook of Qualitative Research, Sage, London, pp. 500-515. Evans, R. (2013), From the Frontline: The Extraordinary Life of Sir Basil Clarke, Spellmount, Stroud. Ewen, S. (1996), PR!: A Social History of Spin, Basic Books, New York. Girvin, B. (2008), “Continuity, change and crisis in Ireland: an introduction and discussion”, Irish Political Studies, Vol. 23 No. 4, pp. 457-474, doi: 10.1080/07907180802452648. Griese, N.L. (2001), Arthur W., Page: Publisher, Public Relations Pioneer, Patriot, Anvil, Atlanta.

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Hiebert, R.E. (1966), Courtier to the Crowd: The Story of Ivy Lee and the Development of Public Relations, Iowa State University Press, Ames. Hyland, K. (2005), “Stance and engagement: a model of interaction in academic discourse”, Discourse Studies, Vol. 7 No. 2, pp. 173-192, doi: 10.1177/1461445605050365. Jaques, T. (2009), “Issue management as a post-crisis discipline: identifying and responding to issue impacts beyond the crisis”, Journal of Public Affairs, Vol. 9 No. 1, pp. 35-44, doi: 10.1002/pa.310. L’Etang, J. (2004), Public Relations in Britain: A History of Professional Practice in the 20th Century, Routledge, Abingdon. L’Etang, J. (2013), “Public relations: a discipline in transformation”, Sociology Compass, Vol. 7 No. 10, pp. 799-817, doi: 10.1111/soc4.12072. Lamme, M.O. (2015), “‘Where the quiet work is done’: biography in public relations”, in Watson, T. (Ed.), Perspectives on Public Relations Historiography and Historical Theorization, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke, pp. 48-68. Lee, A. and Boud, D. (2003), “Writing groups, change and academic identity: research development as local practice”, Studies in Higher Education, Vol. 28 No. 2, pp. 187-200, doi: 10.1080/ 0307507032000058109. Madigan, P. (2017), “Practitioner perspectives on higher education as a preparation for employment in public relations in Ireland”, PhD thesis, University of Sheffield. Mauthner, N.S. and Doucet, A. (2003), “Reflexive accounts and accounts of reflexivity in qualitative data analysis”, Sociology, Vol. 37 No. 3, pp. 413-431, doi: 10.1177/00380385030373002. McKie, D. and Munshi, D. (2004), “Pumpkins, kiwi fruits, and global hybrids: a comparative review of 21st century public relations scholarship in Australia/New Zealand and the United States”, Review of Communication, Vol. 4 Nos 3/4, pp. 278-287, doi: 10.1080/1535859042000250404. O’Dwyer, M. (2005), “The evolving role of public relations in Ireland”, European Journal of Marketing, Vol. 39 Nos 7/8, pp. 809-820, doi: 10.1108/03090560510601770. Pelias, R. (2004), A Methodology of the Heart, Alta Mira Press, Walnut Creek. Richardson, L. (1997), Fields of Play: Constructing an Academic Life, Rutgers University Press, New Brunswick. Sparkes, A.C. (2007), “Embodiment, academics, and the audit culture: a story seeking consideration”, Qualitative Research, Vol. 7 No. 4, pp. 521-550, doi: 10.1177/1468794107082306. Stone, L. (1979), “The revival of narrative: reflections on a new old history”, Past and Present, Vol. 85 No. 1, pp. 3-24, doi: 10.1093/past/85.1.3. Theaker, A. (2004), “Public affairs and issues management”, in Theaker, A. (Ed.), The Public Relations Handbook, 2nd ed., Routledge, Abingdon, pp. 115-130. Tye, L. (1998), The Father of Spin: Edward L. Bernays and the Birth of Public Relations, Crown, New York. Vercic, D., Van Ruler, B., B€ utschi, G. and Flodin, B. (2001), “On the definition of public relations: a European view”, Public Relations Review, Vol. 27 No. 4, pp. 373-387, doi: 10.1016/S0363-8111(01) 00095-9. Vercic, D. (2000), “The European public relations body of knowledge”, Journal of Communication Management, Vol. 4 No. 4, pp. 341-351, doi: 10.1108/eb023531.

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Watson, T. (Ed.) (2014c), Middle Eastern and African Perspectives on the Development of Public Relations: Other Voices, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke. Watson, T. (Ed.) (2014d), Latin American and Caribbean Perspectives on the Development of Public Relations: Other Voices, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke. Watson, T. (Ed.) (2015), Western European Perspectives on the Development of Public Relations: Other Voices, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke. Wertsch, J.V. (1997), “Narrative tools of history and identity”, Culture and Psychology, Vol. 3 No. 1, pp. 5-20, doi: 10.1177/1354067X9700300101. White, H. (1984), “The question of narrative in contemporary historical theory”, History and Theory, Vol. 23 No. 1, pp. 1-33, doi: 10.2307/2504969. About the author Conor McGrath is lecturer in public relations at Ulster University. He has been a researcher to a British Member of Parliament, a self-employed lobbyist and public affairs director at a PR agency. He is author of Lobbying in Washington, London, and Brussels: The Persuasive Communication of Political Issues, editor of six books and author of over 30 journal articles and book chapters on lobbying and public affairs. His latest book (co-authored with Kevin Moloney) is Rethinking Public Relations: Persuasion, Democracy and Society. Conor McGrath can be contacted at: [email protected]

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The epistemic project of open diplomacy and the League of Nations: Co-evolution between diplomacy, PR and journalism Arne Lorenz Gellrich Centre for Media, Communication and Information Research (ZeMKI), University of Bremen, Bremen, Germany

Open diplomacy and the League of Nations 607 Received 27 November 2019 Revised 15 May 2020 2 July 2020 Accepted 3 July 2020

Erik Koenen Institute for Communication and Media Research, Leipzig University, Leipzig, Germany and Centre for Media, Communication and Information Research (ZeMKI), University of Bremen, Bremen, Germany, and

Stefanie Averbeck-Lietz Centre for Media, Communication and Information Research (ZeMKI), University of Bremen, Bremen, Germany Abstract Purpose – The article discusses findings from a research project on the communication history of the League of Nations. It departs from the League’s normative goal of “open diplomacy”, which, from an analytical standpoint, can be framed as an “epistemic project” in the sense of a non-linear and ambivalent negotiation by communication of what “open diplomacy” should and could be. The notion of the “epistemic project” serves as an analytical concept to understand this negotiation of open diplomacy across co-evolving actors’ constellations from journalism, PR and diplomacy. Design/methodology/approach – The study employs a mixed-method approach, including hermeneutic document analysis of UN archival sources and collective biography/prosopography of 799 individual journalists and information officers. Findings – It finds that the League’s conceptualisations of the public sphere and open diplomacy were fluent and ambivalent. They developed in the interplay of diverse actors’ collectives in Geneva. The involved roles of information officers, journalists and diplomats were permeable, heterogenous and – not least from a normative perspective – conflictive. Originality/value – The subject remains under-researched, especially from the perspective of communication studies. The study is the first to approach it with the described research framework. Keywords Communication history, Co-evolution, Epistemic communities, League of Nations, Journalism, Public relations, Open diplomacy Paper type Research paper

Introduction: the idea of “open diplomacy” In 1918, the first “point” from US president Woodrow Wilson’s famous Fourteen Points vision of lasting peace demanded that “diplomacy shall always proceed frankly and in the public view” (Lansing and Wilson, n.d., p. 1). Although diplomats were traditionally “experts in performance” (Steller, 2011, pp. 355–356), international politics had, up to this point, been dominated by cabinet politics and backroom diplomacy, a practice widely perceived as the The affiliated research project is financed by The German Research Foundation (DFG, Project ID AV 23/ 7–1).

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major contributor to the First World War. The transformation of international relations from secret to “open” diplomacy, Wilson and his compatriots felt, should therefore be the basis for the peacetime world order. Consequently, the new principle became the cornerstone for another of the “Fourteen Points”, the “general association of nations” (Lansing and Wilson, n.d., p. 3), formally established with the signing of the Versailles Treaty as the League of Nations in April 1919 (cf. Wertheimer, 1945, p. 201) under the “prescription of open, just and honourable relations between nations” (League of Nations, 1919). Similar in structure to its main successor organisation, the United Nations, the League consisted of a Council of four permanent powers (the victorious allies of the First World War minus the USA) and a changing number of temporary members, an annual assembly of delegations from all its member states, and an administrative body in the form of an International Secretariat and its “Sections”, including the Information Section, which reported directly to the secretary general. This Section, the organisation’s internal PR-office, is one focus of our research. Its output consisted of daily press reviews, reports, official papers, brochures, photos and information material for the press, for civil society organisations, governments, scientists and educational institutions. Other tasks included the organisation of press conferences, informal meetings, provision of facilities and resources and the conduct of national branch offices in Paris, London, The Hague, Rome, Tokyo and Berlin (LoNIS, 1928, p. 10; Comert, 1920). Since the League’s demise, astonishingly little research has been added on the issue of the League of Nations and open diplomacy from a media and communication historical perspective. Pioneers were Finnish communication scholars Kaarle Nordenstreng and Tarja Sepp€a, who, in 1986, presented the first post-war research paper on the League and mass media, aptly titled “The Rediscovery of a Forgotten Story” (Nordenstreng and Sepp€a, 1986). The torch was carried on by Lange (1991), who, in her diploma thesis in journalism studies, was the first to give a detailed account of the League’s workings in information and communication matters. In the same year, J€ urgen Wilke (1991) analysed the Leagues’ activities in the film sector. Only in recent years, more specialised research – mostly rooted in the disciplines of history and political science rather than communication studies — has been added to the field by Christine Manigand (2003), Tworek (2010), Madeleine Herren and Isabella L€ohr (Herren, 2012; L€ohr and Herren, 2014; Herren and L€ohr, 2018), Frank Beyersdorf (2016), Illaria Scaglia (2019) and the Aarhus-based team around Karen Gram-Skjoldager, including Emil Seidenfaden’s groundbreaking thesis on the “Public Legitimization Strategies of the League of Nations” (Seidenfaden, 2019). Nevertheless, League communication history remains almost as “virtually unexplored” as Lange found it in 1991 (cf. Lange, 1991, p. 10), and League journalism has since only once appeared on the research agenda, in the form of Beyersdorf’s (2016) study on the International Federation of Journalists. Contributing to filling this research gap, this article discusses the entanglement of diplomacy, public relations and journalism and its position in the League system, which failed to prevent a Second World War and yet brought forward many of the structures that still define our world. These structures include organisations and treaties rooted in the League itself, such as the UN, the WHO, the EU and GATT (cf. Pedersen, 2007; Gram–Skjoldager, 2019b, pp. 24–25). As Susan Pedersen puts it, international “systems for combating or managing epidemic disease, drug trafficking, sex trafficking, refugees, and a host of other problems [. . .] have originated in or been furthered by conventions hammered out under the auspices of the League of Nations” (Pedersen, 2007, p. 1,092). Contributing to the research field of relations between media and international organisations (cf. also Ulrich, 2016), this article reflects on the professional history of League journalism and public relations, and discusses key observations on what the organisation, in their “propaganda”, took to calling the “League of Nations at Work” (Sweetser, 2017 [1920]; The League of Nations at Work, 1935). Based on the analysis of League Registry Files kept at the United Nations Library in Geneva, as well as prosopographic research on journalists and information officers, we investigate the evolution of

League policies and practices of public communication from 1919 through roughly the first half of the 1920s as the formative years of the interwar world order. Analytical point of departure: an epistemic project in the horizon of the coevolution of diplomacy, PR and journalism Our theoretical point of departure is what we understand to be the League’s normative project of “open diplomacy”, deriving from the post-war zeitgeist that also spawned new conceptions of propaganda and public relations as discussed by figures such as Edward Bernays or Walter Lippmann. While allowing non-Western voices, the League, whose founding members included, among others, Liberia, Haiti, Persia and Siam, but not communist Russia, was dominated by Anglo-French functionaries and imbued with Western liberal values (cf. Brendebach et al., 2018, p. 4; Gram-Skjoldager 2019a, p. 276). At the same time, the power of propaganda, at its pinnacle during the years of global warfare, had opened theorists’ and practitioners’ eyes to its uses and applicability in political as well as business enterprises (cf. Bernays, 2004, pp. 47–49; Cummings, 1926; Nietzel, 2019). In this spirit, the League sought to arrange forms of cooperation with the media (as opposed to mere propaganda) to promote its work in public (cf. Comert, 1920) that, albeit not unheard of in principle, were entirely new in terms of its global and strategic ambition. The organisation aimed to be a driving actor of national debordering and global access to political communication; as information officer Egon Wertheimer later claimed, “publicity became an inseparable element of the League’s action” (Wertheimer, 1945, p. 201). Contextualised by the impact of technological progress on the global media system since the 19th century (cf. Thussu, 2006; Barth, 2011), we understand the League system (and by extensions, related organisations surviving or succeeding it) to indeed mark an important factor in the evolution of both diplomacy and professionalising journalism. So far, the system has generally been understood to directly derive from its Wilsonian premise. In this spirit, Madeleine Herren and Isabella L€ohr have suggested that League officials formed an epistemic community (cf. Herren and L€ohr, 2018, p. 536). Tworek (2010, p. 23) argues in the same direction, describing the League as an inclusive epistemic community of “interest”. The concept of the epistemic community, originally introduced by Haas (1992, p. 19), presupposes a certain coherence and homogeneity among the actors, such as common goals and policies. It therefore seems to sit well with normative visions expressed in prominent League publications which reclaim the League of Nations to work in and for the public (cf. Sweetser, 2017 [1920]; LoNIS, 1928). Yet, while authorised League publications present a very optimistic, idealised perspective on the work of the institution, in the 1932 foreword to the very first study on “The Press as a Factor in International Relations”, German professor and one of the “fathers” of newspaper research, Emil Dovifat, did not once refer to “open diplomacy” – and instead expressly stated that “diplomatic relationships are matters of governments” (cf. Dovifat in Douglass and B€omer, 1932, p. 243). Furthermore, there were also other, openly critical contemporaries, such as Potter (1938) or Hitchner (1944), who denounce the League information policy as backward, too passive and not bold enough in soliciting public support for the League project. “At no point”, claims Potter, for example, “is this task of League publicity conceived as a whole or planned systematically” (Potter, 1938, p. 405). Both Hitchner and Potter argue that such (supposedly) badly handled publicity was – at least in part – responsible for the League’s (alleged) failure. Tworek’s findings on the League’s strategies for “moral disarmament” (peace by diplomacy and journalism for peace) reveal processes of discursive negotiation across the actors’ constellation. By her account, “journalists of different nationalities met [in Geneva] and interacted and began to develop a more cohesive (or more contested?) vision of what journalism was and what it could achieve for the League of Nations” (Tworek, 2010, p. 23).

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Based on observations put forward by Sch€onhagen and Meißner (2016) on “[the] co-evolution of public relations and journalism”, we conceptualise the communication history of the League not as the orthogenetic fulfilment of Wilsonian openness as which its contemporary proponents tended to portray it, but rather as a “co-evolutive” process of two spheres and a specific constellations of actors: the institutional sphere, including League officials, “information officers” as well as diplomats, and the professional sphere of League journalists. What started as a normative (if at times incoherent) institutional prescription was mirrored and continued by a (no more coherent) journalistic endeavour that went beyond institutional action. The involved actors’ constellation, we argue, was not an epistemic community in the narrower sense, but a loose network with diverging aims, strategies and norms of openness, transparency and autonomy in the field of communications. We see the Information Section and the related journalistic network as the nexus point of rather unpredictable spill-over effects between these professional milieus. We conceptualise this process of negotiation by communication as an epistemic project in the horizon of the “co-evolution” of PR and journalism which has more generally been described by Sch€onhagen and Meißner (2016, pp. 751–755; cf. also L€offelholz, 2004, p. 472). Institutional aims of the League’s public communication: open diplomacy and journalism for the League According to Woodrow Wilson’s vision, permanent peace, collective security and international cooperation were the explicit aims of the “normative reordering” (Schulz, 2006, p. 842) of international relations. In the light of this “open diplomacy” (cf. Sweetser, 2017 [1920], pp. 187–203), diplomatic and public relations strategists of the League took care to express their rejection of traditional top-down public information policies and preference for communicative processes and flows, including both institutional information policy and media coverage. The League’s declared aim was to directly address “the man in the street” to achieve “universal acceptance” (Wertheimer, 1945, pp. 199, 201). As the Information Section of the League Secretariat never tired claiming, it was introduced especially for purposes of public communication (cf. LoNIS, 1928, pp. 9–11; Sevensma, 1934; Wertheimer, 1945, pp. 201–203). Its task was the establishment of “an international press centre, almost unique of its kind” (LoNIS, 1928, p. 40; cf. also Nordenstreng and Sepp€a, 1986). Beyond these officially authorised and undoubtedly biased claims, it was clear from the start that the institutionalisation of this new public communication tightly connected academic theory and practical application in public relations and journalism. Architects of the League system at the 1919 Paris Conference included both “propaganda” experts and journalists, for example, Walter Lippmann (contributor to Wilson’s Fourteen Points plan, cf. Steller, 2011, p. 360), Edward Bernays (cf. Whitman, 1974) and Sir Keith Murdoch, the latter in a double function as press correspondent and diplomat (cf. MacMillan, 2003, p. 48), who would go on to become a media Tsar in Australia (and father the head of one of today’s most powerful media empires). This close connection and interaction of actors with diverse professional backgrounds continued throughout the League’s existence, as Geneva developed into an international hub for diplomats, journalists, civil society and international experts engaged with or by the League (Herren, 2012, p. 273; Lange, 1991, p. 42). Examples for this continued entanglement are Karl B€omer, who worked at the Berlin institute for press studies under Emil Dovifat and later was a leading official in the Press Service of the Nazi state (Hachmeister, 1998, pp. 99–100), and his American colleague Paul F. Douglass, at the time visiting fellow at said institute. For their above-mentioned pioneering work on the Information Section (Douglass and B€omer, 1932), they worked closely with the organisation itself. But even League officials themselves served as quasi-academic experts; information officer Henry Reginald Cummings, for example, who, like his Section colleagues

(cf. L€ohr and Herren, 2014, p. 417), was well-travelled, multilingual and engaged in in civil society organisations, wrote an article on propaganda and “publicity methods” for the Encylopaedia Britannica (cf. Cummings, 1926; Cummings, 1920). In 1928, the League presented itself at PRESSA, the World Press Exhibition in Cologne (cf. Lemke, 2012, pp. 115–116), a meeting point for newspaper scientists and social scientists (see Averbeck, 1999, pp. 66–92). In its exhibition brochure, the League Information Section defined the press as an indispensable contributor and “an organic part [. . .] of an association in which League delegates, League officials and journalists dealing with League affairs work by different means towards similar ends” (LoNIS, 1928, p. 26). It further formulated clear ideas of the ideal “Geneva journalist”, closely linked to the normative vision of League communication politics, mobilising the press for public support: they have to specialise in League subjects as a whole. They have to be acquainted with disarmament, mandates, economic and financial problems, international law, etc., and, without being specialists strictly speaking in these particular subjects, they have to study them with much closer attention than the ordinary journalist [. . .] They have to acquire an understanding of the play of international relations, which is facilitated by their opportunities of regular contact with journalists, delegates and officials from other countries (LoNIS, 1928, p. 41).

Complementary precondition for this versatility of a “trained journalistic mind” was “a welldeveloped journalistic technique” (LoNIS, 1928, pp. 41–42): The League organisation is in itself a new technique, and the journalist, in adapting himself to it, has to bring to his task the qualities of a Parliamentary or Conference writer, a commentator, and a faithful interpreter to his countrymen of international diplomatic reactions if he is to fulfil his mission. It involves also wide experience in obtaining and correlating facts, and, with this, a certain amount of diplomatic skill. He works all the time in an atmosphere of keen competition and, as every journalist knows, this necessitates rapidity, resource and a thorough acquaintance with the quickest technical means of news transmission [. . .] (LoNIS, 1928, p. 42).

In short, Geneva journalists should not only be experts in international affairs and politics, internationalists, highly politicised and polyglot, but also all-rounders, familiar with all branches of their profession. They were not only seen as participants but also crucial actors in the implementation and practice of the communication politics of the League (cf. also LoNIS, 1928, pp. 9–11), and, accordingly, confronted with high expectations on their professionalism. Findings from the project: early League policies towards inter-/transnational journalisms and PR Research scope, methods and sources Our research follows a two-pronged multi-method approach (cf. Loosen and Scholl, 2012) including hermeneutic document analysis of Information Section “Registry Files” from the League of Nations Archive at the UN Library in Geneva [1] and a prosopographic study (for the method cf. Stone, 1971; Jones, 2001; Gallus, 2015) of information officers and the largest national cohorts of correspondents in Geneva: British, French and Germans. The scope for this research has been delimited to the formative period of the League from 1919 and into the mid-1920s. We understand this period as one of creation and establishment of structures, as it has also been described by Kahlert (2019) [2]. This periodisation is mirrored in the composition of the source material on publicity and press available from the Geneva archive, the bulk of which is dated to that period, with numbers decreasing as time progresses (cf. United Nations, 1969) [3]. Our document analysis aims to uncover (a) the practice and implementation of the League’s communication and information policies and (b) how it related to the normative imperative(s) of open diplomacy, and the mutual expectations, perceptions and interactions of

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and between information officers and journalists. The second approach, prosopography, has earlier been employed in the historiography of journalism (cf. e.g. Herzer, 2012; Meyen and Fiedler, 2011), and, concerning the League, in the discipline of history (cf. Kahlert, 2019). We employ what Stone calls a “multiple career-line analysis” (Stone, 1971, p. 46), concentrating accordingly on “common background characteristics” (Jones, 2001, p. 330): the professional careers, political, social and national contexts, of journalists and information officers. The points of departure for the biographical work are the Official Journal and the Official Journal of the Assembly of the League of Nations, published annually between 1920 and 1938, which, among selected internal documents and public communications, contain annually updated lists of League employees and accredited journalists. We are the first to systematically compile these lists and enrich them with biographical research for 38 information officers and the 761 French, British and German League correspondents. For information officers, League personnel files serve as the main source of information. Beyond these official files, biographic research, not least for the journalists, has largely been conducted online, giving access to a greater variety of biographical data. In this process, online archives such as DeGruyter’s World Biographical System (WBIS), the Bibliotheque Nationale de France (BnF), the League of Nations Search Engine (LONSEA) [4] and the Helvetic Archives were treated with privilege, while in data-poor cases, even cross-referenced, curated data from less well-authorised sources, such as the Wikipedia, genealogy sites, online history fora or local historical initiatives, are included. The Information Section and (failings in) public and international relations Isabella L€ohr and Madeleine Herren find that the concept for the Section was distinctly shaped by three journalists (cf. L€ohr and Herren, 2014, p. 417; also Seidenfaden, 2019, pp. 42– 44): the French Pierre Comert (Section Director until 1931), the American Arthur Sweetser (his “Assistant Director”, a title that came not without controversy, cf. Seidenfaden, 2019, p. 43) and the British George H. Mair (Section member until 1922, who, in 1924, returned to Geneva as correspondent for the “Evening Standard”, cf. League of Nations, 1924, p. 39). Despite expertise of these three central figures in both journalism and public communication, what an international public sphere would or could be was not authoritatively defined in the Section (cf. L€ohr and Herren, 2014, p. 415) and accordingly conceptualised in very different ways – from public meetings in front of international journalists to closed and exclusive meetings among politicians, experts and diplomats. For these conceptions to evolve into something that could be classified as an idea of a transnational public sphere, journalists played a central role. Well aware of journalists’ importance, the League addressed an international public and the newspapers of the world (cf. Comert, 1920). The League aimed at creating something quite like an inclusive community furthering public diplomacy, honesty and peace. The Information Section referred to the press as “an organic part [. . .] of an association in which League delegates, League officials and journalists dealing with League affairs worked by different means towards similar ends” (LoNIS, 1928, p. 26). Despite these high aims and efforts which the Section liked to propagate, the polemic criticism that the “League’s theory diverges most widely from the logical theory at the point of contact with the public” and that “[the] object of its representation [is] visualized [sic] solely as that of influencing public opinion or popular feeling” (Potter, 1938, p. 405) finds partial support in that some progressive strategies from public relations theory seemingly suffered neglect or failed to take bureaucratic hurdles. While, across the Atlantic, Edward Bernays was developing conceptions of corporate identity, stressing the importance of a recognisable brand for propaganda success (cf. Bernays, 2004, pp. 66–67), a notion swiftly and expertly applied to political propaganda by, among others, German Nazis, the League actively discouraged people from around the world, who sent their ideas on League insignia and even

a draft composition for a League anthem to Geneva in the 1920s (cf. also Scaglia, 2019, p. 80). Only in 1939 was an official flag featuring a five-pointed blue-and-white star before a white background adopted to represent the League at the New York World’s Fair (cf. Allen, 2018). Ideas about practical implication of “normative reordering” of international relations (Schulz, 2006, p. 842) were clearly highly divergent, and the League’s “open, just and honourable” relations encountered challenges right from the start (cf. Lange, 1991, pp. 37–39). The German translation of the Covenant saw the “open” transformed to “in aller € Offentlichkeit” (cf. Strunz, n.y. p. 10), translating to “in public”, fitting with the USinterpretation of public access via press reporting, shared by short-term Undersecretary General Raymond B. Fosdick and Section Official Arthur Sweetser (cf. Fosdick, 1919a, 1919b). This conflicted with (at least informal) British positions, which interpreted the “open” in the sense of “open-ended” rather than “public”: Maurice P. Hankey, at the time secretary to David Lloyd George, wrote to “My dear Eric [Drummond, the League’s Secretary General]” that he was “really very disturbed that you still stick to your point of view about the presence of press delegates at meetings of the Council of the League of Nations” (cf. Hankey, 1919). Yet, this position was not unmotivated, since after the 1919 Paris Conference, which, despite the Wilsonian ideal, had been held behind closed doors, leakages and false news were blamed for shortcomings in the negotiated agreements and increasing scepticism towards public diplomacy (cf. Hohenberg, 1995; Steller, 2011, p. 362). PR practices and the League’s chains of command The document analysis of the Information Section’s Registry Files shows that its task was not as simple as translating a theoretical ideal to practical reality: officers had to mediate between the proclaimed public accessibility of League business, national positions and the personal interests, strategies and suggestions of the various diplomats and officials (cf. van Hamel, 1919). Evidently, there was neither a plan nor a shared definition of what “open diplomacy” meant and what its implementation should look like. The Information Section had to reconcile many voices from outside its inner circle. British diplomat Robert Cecil attached high importance to the work of the Section. In September 1921, he complained that it did not have enough manpower nor money to fulfil the goal of global communication, that the publication of material in only five languages (French, English, Italian, Spanish and Japanese) was not sufficient and that Section staff were unable to work effectively. Cecil urged the Council to, like the Assembly (cf. Hymans, 1921, pp. 115–116), allow a greater degree of public access, in the form of regular attendance of journalists (cf. Cecil, 1921). The Council never complied. Eric Drummond, the secretary general, watched the Section closely and was directly involved in its work (cf. Fosdick, 1919b), although he was careful not to be too closely associated with “propaganda” (cf. Walters, 1919). Nevertheless, outsiders’ meddling sometimes led to conflicts such as that on the matter of “Mention of the League in School Text Books”, which Director Comert, who, upon Robert Cecil’s suggestion, had been ordered to take up the matter with the International Labour Organization (ILO), did not understand to fall within the scope of Section responsibilities (Comert, 1923) [5]. The conflict, likely arising from the difficult relation of expertise and formal authority between Drummond and Comert, is tangible in their correspondence. A further example for competency struggles is the case of the British journalist and broadcaster Vernon Bartlett. In January 1923, Bartlett, who headed the League London Office, was reprimanded by William E. Rappard, the director of the Mandates Section, in reaction to Bartlett’s annual report (Bartlett, 1922), for being too autonomous in his propaganda work. “A certain type of aggressive propaganda pamphlets”, Rappard wrote in a commentary for the Information Section, should only be written and produced by the Section

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itself and stay “in the hands of the League of Nations Union”, not in those of national branch offices (cf. Rappard, 1923) – an assessment with which the League Directors’ Meeting agreed (cf. Cummings, 1923). But Rappard’s meddling was not always appreciated, as is evident from another episode. Rappard had forwarded a proposal by the German journalist Hellmuth von Gerlach to the Section, concerning strategic communication, or “indirect propaganda”. In a letter to Pierre Comert, dated 12 December 1922, Rappard related von Gerlach’s suggestion of newspaper articles, written by the Information Section, but “disguised” as original German reporting, published in German liberal papers under Germanic pseudonyms (cf. Rappard, 1922). Comert resolutely rejected the idea: We must not [even] consider sending them [German newspapers] prepared articles signed with German names. We would expose ourselves to attacks against which it would be very difficult to defend ourselves [. . .]. I would never think of taking responsibility for such a method (Comert, 1922) [6].

League “propaganda” should be open, not disguised, he stated, and under his direction, the Section would not engage in the production of fake news stories (cf. Comert, 1922). His point seems sound, both morally and from a public relations theoretical point of view, in which modern “propaganda” owes its power to its integrity of aims and method, and its overall transparency (cf. Bernays, 2004, pp. 68–70). Yet, while it is tempting to read the director’s stance purely from that angle, it seems that it had an additional motivation. Comert, at this as well as other instances, clearly states his Section’s independence. This fits well with what Seidenfaden (2019, pp. 45–46) describes as Comert’s vision of “a section which as far as possible, and in a balanced way, would connect to public opinion amongst the Great Powers” – with Comert, as a representative of French national interests, at the top (cf. Seidenfaden (2019)). Complementary to Franz G. Schulte, who understands the von Gerlach affair to be part of “a larger quarrel” (“Teil eines l€angeren Streites”) on competencies between the Sections and their members (Schulte, 1988, p. 209), we recognise it as an instance of evolutionary differentiation and professionalisation of diplomacy and public relations concerning interaction with journalism. Real-life “league journalists” Hellmuth von Gerlach, both an internationally reputable editor and pacifist (Schulte, 1988, p. 207) and a “conspicuous Berlin Socialist” (Brittain, 2014, p. 520), reportedly followed an unclear agenda when it comes to questions of (self-)censorship and selective reporting (cf. Schulte, 1988, pp. 139–141). Yet, among his exploits were his engagement for reconciliation among the former warring parties, his presidency of the German Human Rights League and his work for the International Peace Bureau in Geneva (cf. Schulte, 1988, p. 207). As a Francophile proponent of the League idea (cf. Schulte, 1988, p. 198), and with his experience in public relations as a member of the press department of the Handelsverein, the German Trade Association (cf. Schulte, 1988, p. 131), he qualified as the kind of journalist that the Information Section imagined in its 1928 brochure – with the small snag that he was not one of the League’s accredited journalists. In fact, as we can show by our prosopographic analysis, the greater part of those correspondents comprised one-time visitors only, with their Geneva correspondence likely just one step on the career ladder. The core group of journalists across the three national cohorts studied (Britain, France and Germany) included male correspondents born between 1860 and 1880, which makes them older than the Information Section officials, most of whom were born in the 1890s. The majority of older journalists was later replaced by the 1880–90s generation, a pattern especially pronounced among German and French correspondents. German journalist Felix von Eckardt, born in 1903, one of the youngest journalists to report from Geneva, described the correspondents’ community in Geneva as a journalistic elite in competition and close

relations [7]. Eckardt further points out that, in remarkable congruence with the Information Section’s expectations (cf. LoNIS, 1928), professional experience and intimate knowledge of international politics were absolute prerequisites (cf. Eckardt, 1967, pp. 42–43). However, this was not universally true. We find journalists and institutional actors alike were very heterogeneous groups, including actors from all over the political spectrum – even including those critical of the League. Also, there were significant differences between the national cohorts: British correspondents featured by far the largest portion of females and also the most even distribution over the age groups, illustrating diverging traditions and pathways in the professionalisation of journalism in the different countries (cf. Requate, 1995). The Correspondents’ social background was clearly determined by their gender and social stratum. Few had a working-class background; many, especially among the Germans and the British, had academic, military, aristocratic or honorary titles. Men were often foreign correspondents or had been war correspondents during, for example, the Boer War or the First World War. Among female journalists, political engagement for peace, social issues and civil rights was more common than among men – perhaps unsurprisingly, since women generally had to overcome higher hurdles, which made it unlikely for those that were not engaged in the first place to get to work in journalism at all. These politically motivated women stand as a prime example for entanglement, permeability, complementarity and inseparability of and between journalism, public relations and diplomacy. And while some, like Ella Radziwil, who changed from the employment of newspaper baron Henry Wickham Steed to the Information Section (cf. Wickham Steed, 1920), had a career within the League, others made their way in international politics like Louise Weiss (cf. Coston, 1982), dedicated their lives to humanitarian causes like Quaker surgeon Hilda Clark (cf. Law, 2000a) or became celebrated authors like Vera Brittain (cf. Law, 2000b). Since even Section officials often had journalistic experience, and some of them, such as Vernon Bartlett and George H. Mair, doubled as League correspondents, it is little surprising that, on the individual level, there was high permeability between professional and the institutional spheres: journalists would engage in civil society organisations, turn to public relations or diplomacy or start working in League institutions in other capacities. Information Section officials often had information expertise from working in ministries, state propaganda organs or as international journalists, war or foreign correspondents, and diplomats occasionally served as correspondents or “press representatives” and vice versa (cf. also Douglass and B€omer, 1932, p. 258). “Open diplomacy” and organised journalism As already mentioned, diverging interpretations of the “public” crystallised at the “openness” of Assembly and Council. Indeed, while several officials recognised openness as a subsistence issue, others argued that the presence of the press made free discussions impossible (cf. also Lange, 1991, pp. 37–39). Fosdick, in a letter to Drummond, states that the people instinctively distrust “every public business conducted behind closed doors” and that “if [. . .] newspaper representatives are denied admission altogether, public confidence in the League will be destroyed at the start” (Fosdick, 1919a), especially in the USA – at the time still a dominant player in the League, whose influence dwindled after the Senate’s refusal of the Versailles Treaty, but never quite disappeared, thanks to individuals like Section member Arthur Sweetser (cf. L€ohr and Herren, 2014). A first compromise was that the sessions of the Assembly and the opening and closing meetings of the Council sessions were opened to accredited press representatives, while Council debates generally remained inaccessible. Unsatisfied with this solution, press representatives and the Assembly urged the Council “to take into consideration the means for

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securing greater publicity for their discussions and decisions” (Hymans, 1921, p. 115). The Council contended it would be “a better plan to throw upon to the public those meetings which the Council may regard as a special interest for public opinion” (Hymans, 1921, p. 116). Pressure from the correspondent community played a significant role. From 1921 onwards, this pressure was channelled through the “Association of Journalists Accredited to the League of Nations” (IAJA). “Since no other international press association was operational at this time the IAJA also became the ‘primary association’ to represents journalists’ interest at the international level after the [First World] war”, as Beyersdorf (2016, p. 82) notes. To enforce the correspondents’ demand for the possibility to get their own impressions instead of official announcements, Wilson Harris, president of the IAJA, argued stubbornly for the fundamental openness of all meetings and sessions of the League (cf. LoNC, 1922a, b; cf. also Lange, 1991, p. 39). In the end, his interpretation of openness, despite the absence of its main institutional proponent, the USA, gained the upper hand. As Egon Wertheimer, longtime member of the Secretariat, put it in 1945, remarkably echoing Harris’ 1922 demands: Though [Woodrow] Wilson’s demand for open covenants openly arrived at was never fully implemented [. . .] League meetings were public as a rule and secrecy was the exception (Wertheimer, 1945, p. 201, emphasis in original).

While Wertheimer’s observations were clearly biased, our analyses, in accord with Emil Seidenfaden’s findings (cf. Seidenfaden, 2019, pp. 61–65), come to similar conclusions on the ambivalent policy of Council meetings’ as well as of committee and directors’ meetings’ only relative openness. The IAJA’s role in this struggle for open diplomacy stands as an indicator supporting the proposition that the public work of the League can be interpreted as a multifaceted negotiating and mutual learning process between officials, information managers and press representatives.

Conclusion and outlook Considering the discrepancy between goals and actual implementation of public relations, it remains an open question whether the Information Section and its close monitoring by the Secretary General represent an attempt to translate Wilsonian spirit to reality or simply a lesson learnt from the information political disaster of the Paris Peace Conference (cf. also Hohenberg, 1995, pp. 119–121) – or both. However, the analytical concept of the evolving epistemic project including journalists, diplomats and information officials alike seems to stand the test against the historical sources, as does our assumption that the organisation and activism of journalists mirrored and complemented the Information Section’s aim of transparency. Nevertheless, both within the professional and the institutional sphere, there was a great diversity of voices, personalities and approaches. For the League and its Information Section, this meant there was no unanimously followed communication strategy, clear agenda or strict conception of openness, but a co-evolving actors’ constellation engaged in an epistemic project of open diplomacy. Bureaucracy made progressive undertakings of public accessibility and PR easily impossible, along with problematic suggestions such as von Gerlach’s foray – with all the ambivalences that entailed. Co-evolution of the professional histories of journalism, diplomacy and public relations is recognisable in the negotiation process of a normative understanding of the public sphere in much the same patterns as generally described by Sch€onhagen and Meißner (2016, pp. 749–751, 753; 755). It is also pronounced in permeability of the actors’ constellations conceptualised for this research and the biographical features shared among Geneva correspondents and League officials. At the same time, while the Information Section’s description of the League journalists (cf. LoNIS, 1928) very precisely characterises the staff themselves, it is only fitting for a minority of frequently returning or permanent

correspondents. These were, however, the ones most visible through the IAJA and later the FIJ, potentially blinding officials to inaccuracies in their expectations. The driving force behind the development of both public diplomacy and the profession of transnational conference journalism can be characterised not only by the progressive ideas in Wilson’s peace plan but by the interactional spill-over effects of overlapping actors’ constellations. This suggests that civil society actors, not least from peace, women’s rights and scientific and educational backgrounds, which the League’s Information Section actively sought to cooperate with (cf. Seidenfaden, 2019, pp. 71–90), should be considered more in future research. Reading the sources in context, and through the analytical lens of the conception of the epistemic project, our research supports Tworek’s (2010, p. 23) observation that Geneva was a small-enough place to ensure personal contact between diplomats, journalists and information officers, even beyond official events and independent from official channels. Geneva, in that sense, institutionalised the co-evolutive process of diplomacy and journalism first triggered by singular events such as the 1919 Paris Conference or even the Congress of Vienna (cf. Steller, 2011), developing into what we might call a reverse Global Village, where, symbolically speaking, the whole world came to communicate locally. Notes 1. For details, cf. United Nations (1969). 2. Kahlert suggests 1927 as a key date (cf. Kahlert, 2019, p. 204); for the periodisation, cf. also Pfeil (1976). 3. Full quote: “Es ging nicht mehr um Transparenz gegen€ uber der Welt€offentlichkeit, sondern um die Verschleierung diplomatischer Missionen durch €offentliche Berichterstattung”. 4. LONSEA is a search engine designed by Prof. Madeleine Herren and her team (History Institute of Basel). http://www.lonsea.de/ 5. The historical sources are incomplete in not recording the outcome of the discussion. The matter seems to eventually have ended up with the International Committee on Intellectual Cooperation (cf. Hitchner, 1944, pp. 62, 66). 6. Original French: “Nous ne pouvons pas songer a leur [aux journaux allemands] envoyer des articles tout pr^ets signes des noms allemands. Nous nous exposerions a des attaques auxquelles il serait fort difficile de repondre [. . .] je ne songerai jamais a prendre la responsabilite d’une pareille methode”. 7. Full quote: “Genf war wirklich eine harte politisch-journalistische Schule, denn zu den Tagungen versammelten sich dort nicht nur die politische, sondern auch die journalistische Creme” (Eckardt, 1967, pp. 42–43). References Allen, D. (2018), “International exhibitionism: the League of nations at the New York World’s Fair, 1939–1940”, in Brendebach, J., Herzer, M. and Tworek, H. (Eds), International Organizations and the Media in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries: Exorbitant Expectations, Routledge Studies in Modern History, Routledge, London and New York, pp. 91-116. Averbeck, S. (1999), Kommunikation als Prozess. Soziologische Perspektiven in der Zeitungswissenschaft 1927–1934, Lit, M€ unster. Bartlett, C.V. (1922), Report of the Work of the London Office – December 1922, League of Nations Archive, R. 1339_25434_25423, UN Library, Geneva. Barth, V. (2011), “Medien, transnationalit€at und globalisierung 1830–1960”, Archiv f€ ur Sozialgeschichte, Vol. 51, pp. 717-736. Bernays, E. (2004), Propaganda, New ed., Ig Publishing, New York.

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Beyersdorf, F. (2016), “First professional international: FIJ (1926–40)”, in Nordenstreng, K., Bj€ork, U.J., Beyersdorff, F.Høyer, S. and Lauk, E., (Eds), A History of the International Movement of Journalists, Palgrave Macmillan, London, pp. 80-124, doi: 10.1057/9781137530554_4. Brendebach, J., Herzer, M. and Tworek, H. (2018), International Organisations and the Media in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Routledge, London, New York.

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€ Ulrich, D.-C. (2016), Die Chim€are einer Globalen Offentlichkeit: internationale Medienberichterstattung und die Legitimationskrise der Vereinten Nationen, Transcript, Bielefeld. United Nations (1969), Fonds du Secretariat: Section d’Information, Repertoire General, pp. 319-334. van Hamel, J.A. (1919), Re: Admission of the Press to Meetings of the Council, League of Nations Archive, R.1332_133_284, UN Library, Geneva. Walters, F.P. (1919), [untitled Letter to Wilson Harris], League of Nations Archive, R.1332_357_1031, UN Library, Geneva. Wertheimer (Ranshofen-Wertheimer), E.F. (1945), The International Secretariat. A Great Experiment in International Administration, Carnegie Endwoment for International Peace, Washington. Whitman, A. (1974), Walter Lippmann, Political Analyst, Dead at 85, the New York Times, 15. Dec. 1972, p. 1. Wickham Steed, H. (1920), [untitled Letter to Eric Drummond], League of Nations Archive, S.861_Radziwil, UN Library, Geneva. Wilke, J. (1991), “Cinematography as a medium of communication: the promotion of research by the League of nations and the role of rudolf arnheim”, European Journal of Communication, Vol. 6 No. 3, pp. 337-353. About the authors Arne Lorenz Gellrich (MA) is a doctoral researcher on the communication history of the League of Nations at the Centre for Media, Communication and Information Research (ZeMKI) at University of Bremen, Germany, and has previously worked at the Technical University of Ilmenau, Germany. He received his MA in religious studies and peace and conflict research from the University of Uppsala, Sweden. His research focus lies on communication in the context of international conflict and development. Arne Lorenz Gellrich is the corresponding author and can be contacted at: [email protected] Erik Koenen (PhD) is a postdoctoral researcher at the Centre for Media, Communication and Information Research (ZeMKI) at University of Bremen, Germany. He received his PhD from University of Leipzig, Germany, with a study on knowledge transformations between German newspaper science and journalism in the Weimar Republic. One focus of his research is the communication history of international organisations in the 19th and 20th centuries. In autumn 2018, he was an international visiting scholar at the Department of Communication and Media Research (DCM) at the University of Fribourg, Switzerland. From 2019 to 2021, he holds an interim professorship for communication history at University of Leipzig, Germany. Stefanie Averbeck-Lietz (PhD) is a Professor of Communication and Media Studies with an emphasis on media change at the Centre for Communication, Media and Information Research (ZeMKI) at the University of Bremen and a co-editor of the Journal Communications. The European Journal of Communication Research. She received her doctorate in 2000 from the University of Muenster, with a thesis on the intellectual history of newspaper studies in the Weimar Republic, and got her Venia Legendi at the University of Leipzig with a study (Habilitation) on French communication theories. She is deeply involved in Franco-German cooperation in communication research.

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Nineteenth century public relations: Siam’s campaign to defend national sovereignty Napawan Tantivejakul

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Department of Public Relations, Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok, Thailand Abstract Purpose – This research aims to identify the use of the public relations (PR) methods implemented by King Rama V and his administration to counter the threat to Siam of imperialism in the late 19th century. It also seeks to demonstrate the interplay of the communication strategies used in international diplomacy to enhance Siam’s visibility among major European nations. Design/methodology/approach – This is a historical study using both primary and secondary sources. It is a development of the national PR history methodology using a descriptive, fact-based and event-oriented approach. Findings – The main findings are that (1) a PR strategy drove international diplomacy under the administration of Siam’s monarch incorporating strategies such as governmental press relations activities; (2) the strategy in building Siam’s image as a civilized country was successfully communicated through the personality of King Rama V during his first trip to Europe; (3) with a close observation of the public and press sentiments, the outcome of the integrated PR and diplomatic campaigns was that Siam defended its sovereignty against British and French imperialists’ pressures and was therefore never colonized. Research limitations/implications – This research adds to the body of knowledge of global PR history by demonstrating that PR evolved before the 20th century in different countries and cultures with different historical paths and sociocultural, political and economic contexts. Originality/value – This study from an Asian nation demonstrates that PR was being practiced in the late 19th century outside the Western context, prior to the advent of the term. It is a rare example of PR being developed as a part of an anti-colonization strategy. Keywords Public relations history, Public relations campaign, International diplomacy, Anti-colonization, King Rama V, Thailand Paper type Research paper

Introduction Thailand, a nation state situated in Southeast Asia, was known as “Siam” in the past. Siam was the term used by the Portuguese for the area around the Chao Phraya River in Central Thailand which was inhabited by people from various racial and ethnographic origins such as Thais, Laotians, Mons, Khmers, Indians, Malays, Chinese and other tribespeople (Wongthes, 2005). King Rama IV of the current Chakri dynasty gave the order to name the country “Siam” to promote national unity and to be used as a national name for treaty arrangements with governments of other lands. Siam was later renamed Thailand in 1939 (Wyatt, 2003). As the industrial revolution began in Europe during the 19th century, Western nations sought new resources and colonies. Imperialism gained momentum and was on the rise in Asia. Siam was confronted with the threat of Western imperialism toward the end of the reign of King Rama III (1824–1851). The situation worsened over time under the reigns of King Rama IV and King Rama V, respectively. Foreign relations became an important factor during this period of turmoil. Siam began negotiating treaties with foreign countries during the rule of King Rama IV (1851–1868). The signing of the Bowring Treaty with Great Britain in 1855 gave rise to agreements (many of which were unjust) with other countries such as the The author would like to thank the Faculty of Communication Arts, Chulalongkorn University and Professor Dr. Tom Watson for the kind supports.

Received 29 November 2019 Revised 15 May 2020 3 July 2020 Accepted 3 July 2020

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USA, France and 12 other countries (Bunnag, 2010). During the subsequent reign of King Rama V (1868–1910), additional treaties were signed with other European countries and Japan. The countries that caused the most issues for Siam were Great Britain and France, which had been competing to expand their influence in Indochina. Siam at that time held a position as a buffer state between the two powers. Though Siam lost a number of its territories to France and Great Britain during this period [1], it remained the only country in Southeast Asia which was not colonized by Western countries (Wyatt, 2003). King Rama V, widely known as King Chulalongkorn, was the fifth king of the Chakri dynasty. The threat of foreign imperialism reached its height in his reign. The King worked to develop the country by a similar means to his father, King Rama IV or King Mongkut, who equipped him with a broad education including the study of Western ways of thought [2]. During his reign, the two-phase reforms were established [3]. The reform process gave King Rama V the authority to set the direction in various areas of foreign and domestic policies. One of the King’s greatest social reforms, widely welcomed within the country, was the abolishment of slavery which the King himself saw as a hindrance to the modernization of Siam as it violated human rights and the principles of democracy (Bunnag, 2010). The slavery system was gradually abolished over a period of 30 years without major upheavals. In terms of international diplomacy, the abolishment of slavery helped promote the image of Siam as a civilized country and a modern nation-state (Wyatt, 2003; Bunnag, 2010). King Rama V attempted to save Siam from colonization by managing foreign relations to balance the interests of the Western states with minimal losses for Siam. As part of these efforts, he visited Europe twice over a 10-year period, first traveling in 1897 and then again in 1907 (Bunnag, 2007; Duke, 2011). This article develops on earlier research on the development of public relations (PR) in Siam in the reign of King Chulalongkorn (Tantivejakul, 2015, 2019a). Tantivejakul (2015) provided a broad and general picture of PR throughout the course of the monarch’s administration with evidence of activities similar to modern press relations and also of the monarch becoming the focus of media interest during his two trips to Europe. Furthermore, Tantivejakul (2019a) studied the national image-building of the monarch ahead of the first visit in 1897, focusing on the administration’s preparations before the trip took place with a limited investigation of the diaries and letters of the administration’s key personnel [4]. This article therefore aims to show in some detail that the Chakri monarchy very ably planned and carried out a PR and diplomatic campaign using concepts and methods that are well recognized in international relations and negotiations today. These included a sophisticated media relations campaign targeted at major European newspapers, which made use of new communication technology as the method of reporting to key domestic audiences and to European political leaders. Finally, it also aims to provide examples of King Rama V’s efforts to reach out to Europe in protecting Siam from Western colonialists. Literature review Public relations in global history This study challenges the widely held notion that PR is a modern phenomenon which was introduced by the USA to the world in the 20th century. PR practices evolved in different countries and cultures with different historical backgrounds and sociocultural, political and economic contexts (L’Etang, 2015). There is evidence of PR and publicity being used in the USA in the rapidly expanding railway businesses around the mid-19th century (Curtin, 2008), while around the same time in Europe there is evidence of both governmental and corporate activities akin to modern PR being conducted by German-speaking states (Prussia and Austria) and the German steel company, Krupp (Nessman, 2000). In Spain, from 1881 onwards, practices resembling PR existed in various forms of social and educational

campaigns (Rodrıguez Salcedo, 2008). In Japan too, big corporations have long since used employees’ relations activities. For example, the first Japanese in-house magazine was published as a tool in 1903 (Yamamura et al., 2013). PR in Great Britain was developed as part of its development as a colonial power, notably in attempts to associate diplomacy with community relations in a number of international contexts (L’Etang, 2008b). These instances demonstrate the existence of the concept of PR with specific purposes existing across cultures and nations prior to the advent of the term (L’Etang, 2008b; Lamme and Russell, 2010; Watson, 2014b). Recent studies indicate that PR in Asia evolved from three sources consisting of colonial governments, cultural influences and governmental communication in colonial and postcolonial times (Watson, 2015). PR’s antecedents have been found in former colonial countries neighboring Thailand. Studies of India (Vil’Anilam, 2014), Indonesia (Yudarwati, 2014), Malaysia (Ahmad, 2014), Vietnam (Van, 2014), Taiwan (Wu and Lai, 2014), Japan (Yamamura et al., 2014) and the Philippines (Sison and Sarabia-Panol, 2014) suggested that colonial administration helped develop the countries’ informational systems, supported the establishment of newspapers and conveyed colonial propaganda during wartime and when facing local independence movements. As Thailand struggled as a buffer state between Great Britain and France, PR was used as a tool targeted at domestic and international stakeholders to protect independence (Tantivejakul, 2015). Later in the postcolonial period, governmental communication was used to build up a sense of nationhood and foster nation-building in Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore and Taiwan (Ahmad, 2014; Yudarwati, 2014; Lwin and Pang, 2014; Wu and Lai, 2014). In the case of Vietnam, a former French colony, government propaganda campaigns were used on a number of occasions to gain public support, especially during the wars with France and the USA (Van, 2014). PR in Japan was also highly influenced by the USA occupation after the Second World War (Yamamura et al., 2014). Outside of Asia, there is also evidence of colonial and postcolonial governmental communication found in studies of other parts of the world such as some African countries including Botswana, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Kenya, Nigeria and Uganda (Watson, 2014a), as well as the formerly Spanish-ruled Argentina (Carbone and Rodriguez, 2014) and British-occupied Caribbean countries like Barbados, Jamaica and Trinidad (Edwards, 2014). However, the study of PR histories outside the USA perspective is only at a discovery level, and more studies need to be conducted, analyzed and reviewed (Watson, 2015). Historical development of public relations in Siam Studies of Thai PR history mostly regard the beginning of the modern era as being when the country adopted democracy in the 1930s, particularly when the government founded a forerunner of its governmental PR department in 1933 following the Siamese revolution (Pitipatanacozit, 2000; Tantivejakul, 2019b). Tantivejakul (2014a) proposed three periods of modern Thai PR history starting from 1933 which include the beginning period (1933–1956), the growth period (1957–1982) and the golden period (1983–2016). The period before 1933, which can be traced back hundreds of years, was regarded as the pre-modern PR era (Pitipatanacozit, 2000) and could be referred to as proto-PR for PR-like practices predating the modern era (Watson, 2014b). L’Etang (2008a) argued that PR may evolve as a part of nation-building and national identity processes as well as of decolonization or freedom fighting, and this paper makes the case that PR in Siam was already an area of government communication in the time of King Rama IV; that is, prior to the beginning period and the changes of 1933. Studies by Tantivejakul (2014b) found examples of the use of print media in governance to enhance communication transparency and activities similar to press relations under King Rama IV’s administration as Siam entered the transition to modernization. Evidence also points to documents released to the local and foreign press under King Rama IV’s and King Rama V’s

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administrations, which were quite similar to the kind of press releases issued in PR today (Tantivejakul, 2014b, 2015). Mass media and organized press relations continued to be used by King Rama V’s government, including the King’s attempts to construct a positive “civilized” national image of Siam through his first visit to Europe in 1897 (Tantivejakul, 2019a), by putting himself as the center of press attention (Watanangura and Kasikam, 2010). These earlier studies demonstrate that Thai PR evolved concurrently with the growth of the press and print media in a similar way to which it had done in Europe in the late 19th century (Nessman, 2000; Puchan, 2006; Sch€onhagen and Meissner, 2016). Indeed, this symbiotic relationship (media:PR) occurred long before the modern term “public relations” was coined. National image and international public relations Individuals construct images through the reception and interpretation of messages. Images can be built, maintained and changed depending on instructed directions and the quantity of messages received. The cognitive and affective change of image structure therefore affects the behavioral pattern of individuals toward particular objects, including nations (Boulding, 1975). Furthermore, national images help simplify a complicated situation in an international arena (Boulding, 1959). Nye (2004) argued that national images are a kind of soft power unlike military or economic power. They are significant in international diplomacy and political decision-making and could become one of a nation’s strengths if they are perceived in a favorable way. Images of nations are of decisive importance and are one of the factors that influence decision-making (Kunczik, 2002), and they play an important role in building a country’s alliances and accomplishing its goals in international settings (Castano et al., 2016). National images are products of PR in the international relations arena. Sometimes they can be viewed as prejudices: the expression of a particular group about other foreign groups without consideration of objective facts or correctness. Media reports also influence political decision makers’ perceptions and attitudes toward nations and whether they make favorable or unfavorable decisions in regard to a nation could depend on that nation’s image (Kunczik, 2002). National images are thus cultivated by the country’s persuasive communication efforts over time with attempts to influence individuals’ selective perceptions and in conformity with the country’s existing image (Kunczik, 2009). The international PR actions of a government are part of public diplomacy as they share the aim of establishing mutually beneficial relations with the public in other nations. The convergence process of international PR and public diplomacy has long been observed (Wang, 2006; L’Etang, 2009). Governments use international PR in managing relationships with foreign publics and dealing with foreign policies in order to change or to maintain the attitudes of publics of different cultures (Signitzer and Coombs, 1992). Interrelated relationships among modern nation-states, PR and the media play important roles in image cultivation and reputation building so as to foster public support (Ndoye, 2009). However, while mass media communication is employed in public diplomacy in communicating with foreign publics, in certain cases interpersonal communication is still required (Wang, 2006). The history of image cultivation by governments’ dates back hundreds of years. The path involved propagandistic intents in political and religious acts to influence public opinion in Europe (Kunczik, 1990). Attempts to foster a better image for corporations were also found in various countries such as the steel company Krupp in Germany (Puchan, 2006) and the Pennsylvania Railroad in the USA (Kunczik, 1990). Moreover, in Thailand, studies by Watanangura and Kasikam (2010) and Tantivejakul (2019a) suggested the existence of activities which helped create the national image of Siam during the monarch’s first visit to Europe in 1897. The research methodology This study’s nature is narrative and is typified as a development of national PR history, one of the three different types of studies in PR history distinguished by Bentele (2013). The other

two types are specific histories of companies, industries and individuals and PR historiography with focuses on meta-theoretical or methodological levels. It could also be classified by its nature as a descriptive typology (Watson, 2013), using a fact-based and event-oriented approach (Bentele, 2013). This study employs a qualitative methodology. Historical evidence was gathered through primary and secondary data sources. Primary data sources consist of both unpublished and published original documents. Unpublished documents used are kept in the form of microfilms and special documents at the National Archives of Thailand. Unpublished documents including governmental announcements, royal writings and correspondences which are in Thai are kept in Prince Devawongse’s personal collection in the National Archives of Thailand, with the archive code “sorbor 16” – Published documents consist of official and royal writings and announcements. Those relating to the King’s first visit to Europe were gathered in the form of a book compiled by the National Archives of Thailand (1980) available at Thailand’s National Library and Chulalongkorn University Library. Other important published documents include the book “The Annals of Somdet Kromphraya Damrongrajanubhab: The Royal Private Trip to Europe in 1891,” which includes letters of correspondence sent between the monarch, Prince Devawongse and Prince Damrong found in Chulalongkorn University Library and Prince Damrongrajanubhab’s Library. Important secondary sources include those written by Tips (1992, 1996a, 1996b) located at the Thailand and ASEAN Information Center (TAIC). The books illustrate Siam’s international politics context and the roles of the monarch, Gustave Rolin-Jacquemyns, Prince Devawongse and Prince Damrong, in defending Thailand against Western ambitions. Other sources include Watanangura and Kasikam’s (2010) analysis of European documents, transcripts and news reports regarding the 1897 royal state visit [5]; Rak-ngam and Tienkam’s (2012) study of the collections of the monarch’s news from French magazines published between 1893 and 1903 [6] and Nana’s (2006) review of the collections of King Rama V’s pictures and photos published in various European publications. As the topic of the study dates back more than a 100 years, some rare primary sources, especially those kept at the National Archives of Thailand and in the rare books section at the National Library of Thailand, cannot be photocopied or are not in a good enough condition to be read. Secondary sources including books, research reports and journal articles were compared carefully with the originals and compiled documents to ensure data accuracy. The analysis was conducted in light of Siam’s unique historical circumstance. Findings In investigating primary and secondary sources, the study found two sets of evidence of PR campaigns during the administration of King Rama V in the late 19th century. First, the evidence suggests that the royal government of Siam actively engaged in press relations activities in the international arena. Second, the evidence reveals the administration’s intention to project the image of Siam as being a civilized nation-state during King Rama V’s 1897 trip to Europe. The key men assisting the King with this regard from the beginning were his brothers who worked in his cabinet, notably Prince Devawongse, Minister of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Prince Damrong, Minister of the Ministry of the Interior, and Gustave Rolin-Jacquemyns [7] who became an adviser to King Rama V in 1892 (Tips, 1996b). The four worked together on shaping foreign diplomacy, communicating domestic and legal reforms to the world and campaigning to defend Siam’s sovereignty. These two sets of evidence support the notion that Siam’s administration worked intently to influence international public opinion through interpersonal and mass communications which effectively helped prevent Siam from being colonized.

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Siam’s efforts in international press relations activities Prior to the arrival of Rolin-Jacquemyns, there is evidence demonstrating that the royal government of Siam’s engagement in press relations activities consisted of press monitoring, the collections of press clippings and the arrangement of press interviews, as well as the writing and issuing of press releases in domestic and international spheres (Tantivejakul, 2015). Microfilm reviewed at Thailand’s National Archive revealed that a significant amount of correspondence was circulated among the monarch, Prince Devawongse, Prince Damrong and other high-ranking officials, showing the examination of the international press and its news reports about the monarch and Siam in the international arena. The foreign press monitoring activities could be observed through original letters written by Prince Devawongse to King Rama V in 1889 as found in the National Archives of Thailand under the archive code “sorbor 16.10.” Examples of letters ordered chronologically are detailed below. Under the threat of Great Britain taking some parts of Siam’s lands in Malay territories, a letter dated 16 March 1889 mentioned a London newspaper’s report on Saiburi [8] politics: “Saiburi politics is currently of importance. A London newspaper just reported that Saiburi will finally be like other Malay territories which are now under British power. . . I, at first, thought that it could be a story made up by the British as usual. Later, I became skeptical after receiving Suraphol’s letter about Saiburi’s behavior. . .” (National Archives of Thailand, sorbor 16.10/53). In addition, there were letters that show that both Prince Devawongse and Rama V monitored news reports in the Western and local press about Siam in the international politics arena. A letter dated 11 July 1889 by Prince Devawongse informed the King about false information reported in two Western newspapers which he sent copies of to the King: “. . .there are two bad news stories. One is titled: ‘Life in a Siamese Royal Harem.’ The other is ‘Siamese and Siam’ written by Carpenter, a correspondent for the American World newspaper. They meant to negatively criticize us in everything we do. . . I hereby send the two articles for your consideration . . . people who do no’t know the truth will easily believe (this information)” (National Archives of Thailand, sorbor 16.10/46). Another letter, dated 30 July 1889, sent by Prince Devawongse to King Rama V referring to the King’s query for an investigation into a foreign diplomat issue in a newspaper published in both Thai and English, stated that “Regarding your majesty’s query and the newspaper Siam Observer which you gave me yesterday, on Saturday of 27 March Kempermann in fact came and asked about the picnic (for diplomats arranged by Prince Nares) . . . I told him I was not invited. . . on the 30th, here the news is published in the newspaper . . . in my view, the Thai version is more precise than the English one” (National Archives of Thailand, sorbor 16.10/104). Further correspondence and a foreign publication record were also found in Prince Devawongse’s collection at the National Archive of Thailand under the archive code “sorbor 16.10 and sorbor 16.4.3.” These include correspondence written by government officials mentioning news about the King and Siam in foreign publications such as the case of the newspaper Slobe that reprinted an article from a French newspaper and made false accusations against Siam (National Archives of Thailand, sorbor 16.10/138). There is also a handwritten record about the circulation of various newspapers from different countries. The document’s title was “the newspapers of the world” with name lists of countries and numbers of periodicals in each country. The countries of origin consisted of the USA, Canada, Germany, France, Austria–Hungary, Great Britain, Russia and approximately 12 other European and Asian countries [9] (National Archives of Thailand, sorbor 16.4.3/21). The news monitoring activity was also linked to the collection of news clipping sets collected intentionally by Siam’s administrative offices [10]. Under the archive code “sorbor 16.20,” the Royal Secretariat Office collection contains news clippings cut from the Singaporean and Penang press that covered the King’s visits in May 1890. The publications include The

Singapore Free Press, The Straits Times, Pinang Gazette & Straits Chronicle, The Straits Independent and The Penang Chronicle (National Archives of Thailand, sorbor16.15/2). In addition, Prince Devawongse’s personal collection contains a number of foreign news articles published between 1880 and 1890, which discuss the King, the Government of Siam and other key players in the region such as Britain and Burma (now Myanmar) (National Archives of Thailand, sorbor 16.20/3, 16.20/5, 16.20/18, 16.20/19, 16.20/22). In 1894, Prince Devawongse and Prince Sommut, the King’s private secretary, exchanged handwritten letters in order to inform the King that they had collected various foreign newspapers for him to read as per his request. The document included a list of news clippings which monitored how the King’s health was reported by the international press. For example, one microfilm contains a subject heading of “Newspaper Cuttings which referred to His Majesty’s health from April to November 1894” with the list of newspapers, countries, dates and news headings or titles (National Archives of Thailand, sorbor 16.15/5). The evidence sheds light on the Siamese administration’s monitoring of media stories and reports in international affairs. Moreover, arranged press interviews were a press-related strategy implemented at the time. There is evidence of international press contacts and an arranged interview Prince Damrong gave to The Straits Times en route to Europe in 1891. Prince Damrong himself made a clipping of his interview and gave it to the King and Prince Devawongse. Importantly, the corresponding letters showed evidence of news releases to the press disseminated by the Siamese Government as well as their shared interest in the press’s influence on the international diplomacy arena and their discussion and decision-making with regards to Siam’s foreign policies. The abovementioned letters were published in the book “The Annals of Somdet Kromphraya Damrongrajanubhab: The Royal Private Trip to Europe in 1891” (Somdej Kromphraya Damrongrachanuphab, 1998). Examples of their correspondence are discussed chronologically below. During Prince Damrong’s 1891 journey to Europe, he sent a letter to Prince Devawongse on 28 July from Singapore revealing that “[t]he British here (in Singapore) were suspicious about my traveling to Russia [11]. . . The editor of The Straits Times came to my boat wanting to know the truth . . . I allowed his audience but only on one condition. He must not state that the information came from my interview. . . Therefore, there was our news published in its issue of the 27th (of July 1891). . .” (Somdej Kromphraya Damrongrachanuphab, 1998, pp. 28– 29). Later Prince Devawongse wrote to King Rama V on 9 August 1891 in Bangkok and sent him the collected news about Prince Damrong: “[m]ay I provide you with Prince Damrong’s initial letter from Penang . . . The two copies of the Singapore and Penang Consuls’ letters are enclosed with a copy of The Penang Gazette containing news about Prince Damrong’s trip” (Somdej Kromphraya Damrongrachanuphab, 1998, p. 51). Prince Devawongse also gave his opinion about the news and his anticipation of the British reaction in one of his letters sent to Prince Damrong in August 1891 (no date) as follows: “I have seen The Straits Times of July 27th and The Pinang Gazette of the 31st of the same month. Their contents are similar, almost word for word . . . It is good that they reported none of the suspected issues (reasons behind Prince Damrong’s trip to Russia). . .But if Britain is not skeptical at all, that would do no good for us. Let them be doubtful, so they will be considerate and attentive to us” (Somdej Kromphraya Damrongrachanuphab, 1998, p. 55). This evidence helps support the notion that King Rama V and his advisers performed various press relations activities in order to observe public opinion and the political climate overseas. Under Rolin-Jacquemyns’ guidance (1892–1901), the same practice with the particular aim of directly influencing public opinion overseas was demonstrated. As noted in his diary dated 14 October 1893, Rolin-Jacquemyns himself mentioned the issue to the King (Tips, 1996b, p. 185). Moreover, information about Siam’s reforms were found to have been communicated by Rolin-Jacquemyns and Siam’s other international advisers to the press in order to influence and sway European public opinion, especially that of the British and French (Tips, 1996a).

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The three books by Tips (1992; 1996a; 1996b), which use Rolin-Jacquemyns’ diary and letters as main documentary sources, show Rolin-Jacquemyns’ intention to influence public opinion at the international level through the press. There is evidence that he provided information about Siam and wrote drafts to defend Siam’s position and sent them to local newspapers published in English such as The Bangkok Times, The Siam Observer and The Daily Advertiser and the international press such as The Times (London), Calcutta Statesman (India) and The Straits Times (Singapore). Meanwhile, Rolin-Jacquemyns had to deal with a French misinformation campaign about Siam disseminated by French-backed newspapers such as The Siam Free Press. These practices affirm that methods similar to today’s press relations practices were implemented by Siam’s Government in the context of international relations during the reign of King Rama V. Moreover, it also shows that the royal government of Siam actively engaged in press relations activities with full understanding of the role of press influence in creating, maintaining and shaping the recipient’s perceptions and attitudes toward a country. Moreover, this had an impact upon Siam’s fight against Western imperialism as articulated in the following section. The projection of Siam’s national image and the international media’s responses Much like during the reign of his father King Rama IV, foreign policy during King Rama V’s reign stressed the importance of maintaining good relations with the aim of preserving the sovereignty of the state (Duke, 2011). Considering this policy from a PR viewpoint, the King made efforts to maintain good relations while presenting an image of Siam as a civilized country (Soontravanich, 1997). Central to his image-building strategy were two visits to Europe. His first trip to Europe in 1897 was crucial for the country as it was the first time a Siamese king had left the country for a significant period (eight months) to visit a very distant land [12]. It was during this time that imperialists’ threats had almost reached a peak, while reforms in the country were still ongoing (Bunnag, 2005). The 1893 Paknam incident was one of the factors that triggered King Rama V’s idea of visiting Europe [13]. This coincided with Rolin-Jacquemyns’ prior recommendation of the same trip to Prince Devawongse. Rolin-Jacquemyns wrote in his diary dated 31 July 1893 about his conversation with King Rama V relating to Siam’s situation with France and England: “the King suddenly asks me: What would you say if I planned to make a journey to Europe?” (Tips, 1996b, p. 111). Later that night, the two talked for an hour about the plan to be undertaken in 1894 or 1895 to all courts of Europe. Based on Rolin-Jacquemyns’ diary, the conversations about the arrangement of the European trip continued for two days between the two and the other princes (Tips, 1996b). They went into minute details, even discussing what the King should wear as a travel costume: Western-style trousers or the Thai-style “phanung ” [14] (Tips, 1996b, p. 113). The 1897 trip was of great interest for the foreign media as is evident in European news coverage from the time (Watanangura and Kasikam, 2010; Rak-ngam and Tienkam, 2012; Nana, 2006). Studies concerning the monarch’s first state visit to Europe found that King Rama V’s aim to present Siam’s image as “civilized” was achieved when set in the context of the European countries who were the key global players at that time (Soontravanich, 1997; Watanangura and Kasikam, 2010). A letter from Rolin-Jacquemyns to Corragionid’Orelli, a Swiss international law attorney and adviser to Siam’s ambassador in Paris, expressed his confidence that King Rama V’s personal qualifications and pleasant personality, unlike other older-style Asian leaders, would help create a splendid impression for Siam among the public in every place he visited, even Paris (Tips, 1996a, p. 113). Even though the trip seems to have been planned at short notice, there is evidence of meticulous preparations prior to the first trip of 1897. Civilized images of Siam were prepared and communicated through three components in conformity

with European norms and traditions. These were Western-style clothing and costumes, the official language of English and the King and his entourage’s well-practiced Western-style manners (Tantivekul, 2019a). Moreover, the King’s correspondence showed his determination to present Siam’s independent attitudes through the presentation of himself as the head of the nation while traveling in order to make Siam more visible globally through interpersonal contact and press reports (Watanangura and Kasikam, 2010). During his first visit to Europe, one of his high-ranking entourages was officially assigned a task concerning press monitoring and the collection of news clippings so that the King could monitor the press and public’s sentiments about the state visit (National Archive of Thailand, 1980, p. 162). The King’s traveling entourage [15], which consisted of almost 300 people, traveled on the royal yacht “Maha Chakri,” a very modern steamer at the time, and wore European clothes and conducted themselves following European etiquette rather than Thai traditional manners (Kasetsiri, 2008). Contemporary documents such as correspondence and royal letters indicated the preparation of travel costumes both in terms of military uniform and national attire for various occasions. Moreover, King Rama V’s letter to the state visit’s advisory committees revealed his meticulous selection of materials and his clear intention for the entourage’s clothing to be in a unified Western style (National Archive of Thailand, 1980). The King’s entourage was trained to be conversant in English as well as to be knowledgeable about modern developments and other Western matters. Some typical Siamese behaviors [16] which were perceived as strange or uncivilized from Western perspectives were prohibited throughout the trip (Tantivejakul, 2019a). These behavioral choices were a means of encoding the “civilized” symbols which could be easily recognized and understood by Western recipients. Collections of pictures, news, film archives and other prior literature (Nana, 2006; Watanangura and Kasikam, 2010; Rak-ngam and Tienkam, 2012; Tantivejakul, 2019a) showed that the 1897 state visit of King Rama V to Europe was undertaken in a Western manner and was greatly publicized. A Polish newspaper, Kurier Warszawski, described the King and his entourage as dressing in “British fashion” (Watanangura and Kasikam, 2010, p. 115), while other European newspapers observed that their costumes were modern and as per Western traditions [17] (Watanangura and Kasikam, 2010). A British newspaper, The Times, also covered King Rama V’s 1897 visit to Europe in a positive way (Brailey, 2009). Several French publications patronizingly stated that King Rama V and his Siamese entourage looked like Europeans walking on the high-end streets of Paris, well dressed and with well-refined manners. Some publications even specifically described the monarch’s personal attributes and personality (Boussard et al., 2001; Rak-ngam and Tienkam, 2012). Some examples include King Rama V has a small figure, olive skin color with energetic eyes. He looks wise and smart . . .[and] is admired by foreigners. They would like to know him due to his unique personality [18]. This monarch has been equipped with modern education. His favorite language is English which he speaks very well. It has been told that he is of high culture and is open to modern conceptions, philosophies and science. He is also interested in all kinds of new advancements [19]. . . .during two days staying in Brussels, he received a lot of public attention. The King has a mediumsized figure. His personality and manners reflect his kindness as well as high self-confidence. Unlike many Asians, not even once did he express a lack of enthusiasm [20].

Pictures and stories of the King were widespread in newspapers, magazines and publications throughout Europe. One of the most influential pictures of this visit showed the King in a European-style military uniform being received with great honor by Czar Nicholas II of Russia [21]. This picture was circulated among the press and found its way to French newspapers with assistance of the Czar (Soontravanich, 1997). It also made an impact on how

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other countries in Europe planned their reception of the King, especially France, which at that time was embroiled in a territorial land dispute with Siam (Bunnag, 2005; Duke, 2011). The Film Archive of Thailand has two films [22] showing the King being honorably welcomed on his visits to Berne, Switzerland and Stockholm and Sweden (Tantivejakul, 2015). Annals of this trip recorded by one of the King’s entourage, Phraya Saritpojanakorn [23], mention that the King saw one of the films in Sweden at an exhibition a day after his arrival (Phraya Srishathep, 1998, p. 282). Other important events that boosted Siam’s standing in the eyes of the global community included a grand reception by the British court and a warm and honorable welcome by Emperor Wilhelm II and Prince Bismarck of the German Empire. In Great Britain and France, each of which saw Siam as a buffer state, the King’s arrival was front-page news (Nana, 2006). In France, King Rama V had the opportunity to discuss the ongoing territorial dispute. The talks did not reach any fruitful conclusion; however, his visit received much press and public attention. Besides these countries, he also visited Germany, Austria–Hungary, Italy and Scandinavia with the aim of promoting recognition of Siam as a sovereign state and introducing it to the global community in the arena of international affairs (Watanangura and Kasikam, 2010; Duke, 2011). The tour revealed various interesting aspects of the King of Siam’s personality as was planned prior to the trip. He wrote in one of his letters from Florence to Queen Saowapha on 13 June 1897 that “[m]y visit could be a chance for our country’s survival” (Watanangura, 2008, p. 29). King Rama V’s 1897 trip demonstrated the importance of a leader’s personality in the preservation of a small and inferior country’s independence in the era of imperialism (Brailey, 2009). The abovementioned evidence stresses the importance of the observation of public and press sentiment in planning and implementing a PR and diplomatic campaign. Even though some press articles reported on odd Siamese customs from a Western perspective, they also conveyed impressions of the King’s exotic but charming personality, his first-rate education and his aims to reform Siam following Western methods (Watanangura and Kasikam, 2010). The strategy of presenting King Rama V as the nation’s representative with a visible public personality thus led to wide press coverage, created a positive national image, and had a beneficial impact on Siam’s stance in global politics. Conclusion and implications Lamme and Russell (2010) suggested that PR with specific purposes existing across cultures and nations existed before the 20th century. This article details Siam’s PR efforts under the leadership of King Rama V at the end of the 19th century, which were similar in design and purpose to those of modern PR. Most importantly, it also reveals the success of Siam’s PR in enhancing its visibility among the global community and on protecting Siam against the threat of colonialism. Building on the media relations strategy previously implemented by King Rama IV, wellorganized press relations efforts that were in operation under King Rama V’s administration comprised press monitoring, news clippings and prearranged press interviews (Tantivejakul, 2014b, 2015). In terms of national image-building, this article adds to earlier research by Tantivejakul (2015, 2019a) in demonstrating King Rama V and his administrative board’s intentions to put the King forward as a public personality to boost public awareness of Siam in the global community during his first state visit to Europe. The analysis of corresponding documents also shows their intention to create the impression of Siam as a civilized country based on a Western view of civilization. The monarch’s methods demonstrate his deep understanding of the importance of other countries’ perceptions toward Siam as stated by Hofstatter (1957 as cited in Kunczik, 1990, p. 47) that “[t]he closer the image a nation has of the other is to its image of itself, the better two nations understand each other.” This strong intention to influence international public opinion toward Siam confirms the significance of the role of persuasion through interpersonal and mass communication.

In the international relations arena, modern nation-states, PR and the media play important roles in image cultivation and reputation building (Ndoye, 2009). Even though this study’s sources are from more than 100 years ago, the implications demonstrate the interplay between the persuasive acts of nation-state and the roles of the media or the press in shaping and building the national image of Siam. With its campaign’s persuasive nature and the employment of modern mass communication, Siam’s communication practices in the 19th century could therefore be regarded as a clear instance of PR being used on the global stage prior to the advent of the term. This article finally affirms the stance of Siam’s PR in King Rama V’s reign as being an anti-colonization effort which is a rare example found within PR and illustrates the interesting role of PR during the era of colonialism. Notes 1. During this reign, Siam lost territories to Great Britain in 1892 and 1907 and to France in 1888, 1893, 1903 and 1906. The incident which was most hazardous to the country’s sovereignty was in 1893, when Siam resisted French troops sent to take control of Laos which was Siam’s territory at that time. French’s gunboats were sent to blockade the mouth of the Chao Phraya River near Bangkok. France demanded Siam to give the whole of Laos and east of the Mekong to France, to pay three million francs as an indemnity and to punish Siam’s officers responsible for French casualties in Laos. As a result of French’s pressure, King Chulalongkorn (Rama V) signed a treaty with France in October 1893. The 1893 crisis, which was also known as Paknam crisis (Wyatt, 2003; Bunnag, 2005). 2. One of the King’s teachers was Anna Leonowens (Wyatt, 2003), who published memoirs of her fiveyear experiences in Siam. These memoirs were later fictionalized in a famous novel “Anna and the King of Siam” by Margaret Landon in 1944. The story was also the subject of the musical, The King and I (1951) and the film of the same name (1956). 3. KingRama V started his two-phase reform in 1873. The reform went slowly at first due to the resistance of powerful senior authorities. By the 1880s, King Rama V and his close administrators were in full control. They were able to put effort into the second phase of reform in all aspects with their aims to abolish unfair treaties and enjoy the country’s sovereignty. The reform during King Rama V’s reign was also known as the Chakri reformation (Tips, 1992; Bunnag, 2010). 4. The administration’s key persons included the monarch himself, the Belgian general adviser to the King, Gustave Rolin-Jacquemyns, Prince Devawongsevaropakarn and Prince Damrongrajanupab. 5. Documents and news reports are from various European countries, such as Switzerland, Sweden, the Czech Republic, The Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, Denmark, Austria, Spain, Germany and Portugal. The researcher would also like to express her gratitude for the book given by the main author, Professor Watanangura. 6. For example, Le Petit Revue, L’Illustration, Le journal Illustre and Le Monde Illustre. 7. Gustave Rolin-Jacquemyns (31 January 1835–9 January 1902) was a Belgian international law expert and former Minister of Interior at Brussels, who was also the general adviser to King Rama V in 1892–1901. Rolin-Jacquemyns came to Siam in September 1892. His duties covered various areas such as giving advice on various topics related to the country’s reform, managing communications with other governments and their representatives, as well as deploying the media both nationally and internationally (David, 1997). 8. Saiburi, which is now known as Kedah, is a northern state of Malaysia situated close to Thailand’s southern border. It was under Siam’s administration until 1908. 9. These data were provided by Dr. A. Schmitter in a Munich newspaper, the “Neueste Nachrichten,” in 1908 (National Archives of Thailand, sorbor 16.4.3/21). 10. A document contains Prince Devawongse’s suggestion for the establishment of a press bureau to deal with such matters (National Archives of Thailand, sorbor 16.10/131). However, the proposal does not appear to have been acted on.

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11. The British wondered why Siam sent an ambassador to Russia which had no geographic link or clear political benefit. Siam declared that the trip was a personal mission (Somdej Kromphraya Damrongrachanuphab, 1998). It was one of Siam’s foreign policies to balance power by engaging Russia in diplomatic interaction with Britain and France (Wyatt, 2003; Bunnag, 2010; Duke, 2011). 12. The 1897 trip was not his first time traveling abroad. Earlier, King Rama V had undertaken royal trips to neighboring lands such as Singapore, Java, Melaka, Penang, Burma and India in the 1870s, and further trips to Northern Malay states and to Singapore and Java in the decade before his European trip. The trips to European-colonized territories gave him an insight of how to prepare himself for the trip to Europe (Kasetsiri, 2008). 13. In fact, King Rama V’s intention to visit Europe can be traced all the way back to 1871 following his visit to Singapore and Java (Kasetsiri, 2008). 14. A typical Southeast Asian costume equivalent to Western trousers. 15. King Rama V’s sons who were studying in Europe also joined the royal group. His half brothers and high-ranked officers who had some acquaintance with English and the Western way of thinking were also part of the entourage (Watanangura and Kasikam, 2010). 16. For example, betal or makk chewing which was habitual and popular among Thais. Usually those who chewed makk had to spit red residue out regularly during the daytime and their teeth would be covered by brown stains caused by makk’s natural color. This would make their teeth look unhygienic to Europeans. This habit of makk chewing later declined from the mid-20th century onwards. 17. Issues regarding the number of the King’s wives and children and some other Siamese customs were also mentioned by the press as they were not normal Western customs. 18. From a French journal, L’Illustration, published date: 11 September 1897. The quote was translated from Thai manuscripts in Rak-ngam and Tienkam (2012, pp. 77, 79). 19. From a French journal, Le Monde Illustre, published date: 18 September 1897. The quote was translated from Thai manuscripts in Rak-ngam and Tienkam (2012, p. 54). 20. From a Belgian journal, La Patriotte Illustre, published date: 19 September 1897. The quote was translated from Boussard et al. (2001, p. 2nd front cover) 21. King Chulalongkorn chose to visit Russia before going to other powerful countries such as Germany, Great Britain and France due to his close relationship to Czar Nicholas II, who visited Siam in 1891 before becoming the Emperor of Russia in 1894 and also because of his belief that the grand and friendly reception prepared by the Russian court would have an impact upon the preparation of other European courts. 22. The two films can be found via The Film Archive of Thailand’s YouTube channel: Film Archive Thailand. 23. He was also assigned the task of preparing newspaper cuttings of the visit.

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Vil’Anilam (2014), India in Asian Perspectives on the Development of Public Relations: Other Voices, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke. Wang, J. (2006), “Managing national reputation and international relations in the global era: public diplomacy revisited”, Public Relations Review, Vol. 32, pp. 91-96, doi: 10.1016/j.pubrev.2005.12. 001, (accessed 22 October 2019). Watanangura, P. and Kasikam, T. (2010), Relations between the Kingdom of Siam and the Royal Houses of Europe in Documents Pertaining to King Chulalongkorn’s First Visit to Europe in 1897, [in Thai], Chulalongkorn University Printing House, Bangkok. Watanangura, P. (2008), “Europe, king Chulalongkorn and the kingdom of Siam”, in Watanangura, P. (Ed.), The Visit of King Chulalongkorn to Europe in 1907: Reflecting on Siamese History, Centre for European Studies, Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok, pp. 1-28. Watson, T. (2013), “Keynote address”, The International History of Public Relations Conference, 24 June 2013, Bournemouth, available at https://microsites.bournemouth.ac.uk/historyofpr/ proceedings (accessed 21 June 2019). Watson, T. (2014a), “Introduction”, in Middle Eastern and African Perspectives on the Development of Public Relations: Other Voices, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke. Watson, T. (2014b), “Let’s get dangerous – a review of current scholarship in public relations history”, Public Relations Review, Vol. 40, pp. 874-877, doi: 10.1016/j.pubrev.2014.02.001, (accessed 21 June 2019). Watson, T. (2015), “What in the world is public relations?”, in Perspectives on Public Relations Historiography and Historical Theorization: Other Voices, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke. Wongthes, S. (2005), Where did Thai Come From?, Matichon, Bangkok. Wu and Lai (2014), Taiwan in Asian Perspectives on the Development of Public Relations: Other Voices, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke. Wyatt, D. (2003), Thailand: A Short History, Silkworm Books, Chiangmai. Yamamura, K., Ikari, S. and Kenmochi, T. (2013), “Historic evolution of public relations in Japan”, Public Relations Review, Vol. 39, pp. 147-155, doi: 10.1016/j.pubrev.2013.02.001, (accessed 23 October 2019). Yamamura, Lkari and Kenmochi (2014), Japan in Asian Perspectives on the Development of Public Relations: Other Voices, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke. Yudarwati (2014), Indonesia in Asian Perspectives on the Development of Public Relations: Other Voices, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke. Further reading Tantivejakul, N. (2012), “Public relations communication during the reign of Phrabaht Somdej Phra Chomklao Chaoyuhua (King Rama IV)”, [Research Report – in Thai], Faculty of Communication Arts, Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok. About the author Napawan Tantivejakul (PhD) is an associate professor at the Faculty of Communication Arts, Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok, Thailand. Her research interests include brand and corporate communication, corporate social responsibility (CSR) and sustainability communication and public relations history. Napawan Tantivejakul can be contacted at: [email protected]

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Chartered status and public relations’ struggle for legitimacy

Chartered status and public relations’ struggle

Anne Gregory Department of Management, University of Huddersfield, Huddersfield, UK Abstract Purpose – To appraise progress towards “the professional project” for the public relations profession in the UK using the Royal Charter application as a pivotal assessment point in the journey. Design/methodology/approach – Primary and secondary, qualitative research, with participant observation and chronological and thematic analysis of archival documents at the time of the Charter process: 2003 to 2005. Two expert interviews were also conducted for a view on progress. The study is contextualised within the professions literature and the 2019 State of the Profession study undertaken by the Chartered Institute of Public Relations. Findings – The Institute faced significant challenges during the Charter application raised by Institutions such as the Government Department for Education and Skills, including the diversity of the profession, standards of education and training, practitioner standards, including ethical, as indicated by their levels of membership and commitment to ongoing professional development. These challenges remain. Research limitations/implications – Diversity, social acceptance, qualifications and professional progress provide an important, ongoing research agenda. Practical implications – Social acceptance, qualifications and professional progress remain elusive for the practice and more radical action is required to achieve progress. Social implications – The profession is making limited progress towards legitimacy. Continued press ambivalence, recent scandals, such as the Bell Pottinger affair in South Africa and jurisdictional infringement by other professions continue to threaten its attempts to move towards social closure. Originality/value – This is the first academic article to chronicle the charter journey using the original documentation as source materials and the first to review progress towards the goals that chartered status signified for public relations. Keywords Charter, Chartered, Legitimacy, Profession, Professional project, Ethics Paper type Research paper

Introduction At the Annual General Meeting of the Institute of Public Relations on 14th June 2005, the Deputy Clerk to the Privy Council handed over to the Immediate Past President a framed, vellum declaration embossed with the Queen’s own signature and Great Seal. This was a Royal Charter stating that the Institute was now a chartered body. Receipt of this document was preceded by two years of intense work led by the Immediate Past President who had submitted the formal application. The application and achievement of chartered status was a major milestone for the Institute and for the profession [1]. Its bestowal was seen to endow a level of legitimacy that had eluded the practice and its representative bodies. Internally, part of the impetus for pursuing chartered status was a desire by the Institute to separate practitioners who were members from those who were not: members were professionals; those who were not, were open to having their professionalism challenged. This article sets out to do four things: first, to chart the course of the journey to chartered status. Second, to set that within the broader context of the literature on the professions and the issues that arise from that literature. Third, to analyse progress towards public relations’ acceptance as a profession based on the challenges that faced it before charter and the current The assistance and support of the Chartered Institute of Public Relations in preparing this article is fully and thankfully acknowledged.

639 Received 27 November 2019 Revised 12 May 2020 3 July 2020 Accepted 3 July 2020

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ones, and fourth to draw some conclusions and recommend some further steps, which may build towards and accelerate progress. The article is the first to chronicle in an academic journal the charter journey using the original documentation as source materials, and the first to review progress towards the goals that chartered status signified in the public relations field.

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Literature review This overview of the literature on the professions and professionalism is deliberately nonexhaustive since extensive reviews on the topic and how it applies to public relations have been provided earlier (Pieczka and L’Etang, 2006; Edwards, 2018). The perspective taken here is from the sociology of the professions and in particular the notion of the professional project (Larson, 1977, 2012) and the system of professions (Abbott, 1988). For ease of reference, both approaches are given the umbrella term the professional project in this article, but it is important to explain the differences. The professional project is centred on “the market” around which economy, society and professions are organised and its end is to control the market and complete “social closure”, that is, elite status. Foundational to Larson’s (1977, 2012) position are two propositions: professional knowledge, both learned and practical, and training, which produces a marketable product that is valued. Abbott’s (1988) system of professions also has two tenets, first that professions evolve depending on the interrelationship they have with other actors, and second that professional work consists of tasks, which a profession successfully claims for itself. Combining these two notions is helpful in that the process of being recognised as a profession, or professionalisation as it is often called, is about an occupation’s ongoing struggle to secure its jurisdictional borders (boundaries of the profession), to capture a position in the market and to obtain social recognition and approval for its work, in other words, legitimacy. Professionalisation is seen to be a “cure” for the lack of legitimacy that public relations suffers from (Pieczka and L’Etang, 2006; Merkelsen, 2011; Edwards and Pieczka, 2013; Taylor and Kent, 2016). It is helpful to note the definition of a profession given by Freidson (1970): . . .an occupation which has assumed a dominant position in the division of labour so that it gains control over the determination and substance of its own work (p. xvii).

There are a number of facets that define a profession and which emerge from the literature: jurisdiction over a particular occupational field; a code of ethics, a body of theoretical knowledge, formal and recognised (certified) training; closed entry; a public service orientation and a representative professional body (Wylie, 1994; Pieczka and L’Etang, 2006; Taylor and Kent, 2016; Edwards, 2018; Bourne, 2019). As a number of researchers in the professions field (Johnson, 1972; Abbott, 1988; Friedson, 1986, 2001; Macdonald, 1995; Brock and Saks, 2016; Larson, 2012; Saks, 2012, 2015) and in public relations (Pieczka and L’Etang, 2006; Waeraas, 2007; Edwards, 2014; 2018; Fitch, 2014; Edwards and Pieczka, 2013; Merkelsen, 2011; Bourne, 2019) have asserted, legitimacy and control over jurisdiction are important because these provide the routes to esteem, an ability to corner the market and hence, potentially high rewards for those at the apex of the hierarchy both between and within professions. The challenge that professions and professionals face is to secure legitimacy at three levels: from society (macro), their organisation (meso) and as individuals (micro) (Merkelsen, 2011; Edwards, 2018). This then gives them a licence and mandate, that is, to carry out their work in exchange for money and to define for themselves and others what constitutes proper conduct in relation to that work (Pieczka and L’Etang, 2006). Legitimacy is defined as:

A generalised perception or assumption that the actions of an entity are desirable, proper, or appropriate within some socially constructed system of norms, values, beliefs, and definitions. (Suchman, 1995, p. 574)

Once this has been achieved and is secured over time, a profession becomes institutionalised, that is, it receives societal approval and there is a general belief that “things cannot be otherwise”: a taken for grantedness that they should do their work that is not challengeable. Their legitimacy is then re-enforced by them enacting the role that society has agreed it should enact and which it self-affirms on a continuing basis (Deephouse and Suchman, 2008; Lawrence and Suddeby, 2006; Scott, 2008; Sandhu, 2009; Gregory et al., 2013). However, as Abbott (1988) states, professions are not static, they change depending on social context and the regulatory, competitive and sector environments in which they operate. Therefore, they are constantly evolving, albeit at a slower or faster pace depending on that environment. Professions are not all the same. Medicine and law can be seen as the “top of the pecking order” (sic) (Johnson, 1972; Saks, 2015; Brock and Saks, 2016) and can be seen as ideal types to which most professions would aspire. They have long-standing and extensive bodies of knowledge with active strands of research, certificated education, training, are regulated, have clear and enforced codes of ethics and their professional associations have coercive and symbolic power. Their practitioners are seen as elite and are well remunerated. Significantly, they have social approval, and control their jurisdictional boundaries fiercely: note the battles that the paramedical professions and particularly alternative medicine practitioners have with doctors (Saks, 2015). Edwards (2018) categorises public relations as a modern, knowledge-based occupation alongside others such management consultancy, project management and recruitment. There are a number of characteristics that distinguish these types of professions from the more established ones such as law and medicine: a fluid body of knowledge, few barriers to entry and, non-mandatory ongoing continuing professional development (CPD) and education. The public relations literature about the professional project (e.g. Pieczka and L’Etang, 2006; Edwards, 2018; Fitch, 2014; Edwards and Pieczka, 2013; Bourne, 2019), which is limited, highlights a number of issues with the most pertinent to this article being now identified. First, jurisdictional boundaries (Edwards, 2018; Bourne, 2019). These are constantly being challenged not only by other professions such as management consultancy, event management and personnel development/HR, but because of changes in the environment. Advances in technology such as automation, machine learning and Artificial Intelligence (AI) now means that IT professionals encroach in on-line work; the integration of communication platforms means that marketing, always a jurisdictional threat, has been further empowered; the increased demand for “story-telling” has given new opportunities for journalists to enter or claim a part of the profession. Second, issues of closure. Both the professions and public relations literature recognises this (Brock and Saks, 2016; Saks, 2016; Edwards and Pieczka, 2013; Edwards, 2014; Bourne, 2019). Closure takes two dimensions, first barriers to enter and to progress in the profession are not just educational achievement and subject expertise, but class, gender, disability, geography in fact anything that does not conform to the stereo type of mainly middle-class, white and usually male, although some progress has been made on gender. These issues are not confined to external, and particularly client/employer perceptions of what is preferred, but are constantly re-produced in the profession’s own publications and discourses (Edwards and Pieczka, 2013). The second dimension of closure is social. By that is meant that the profession is institutionalised and it and its professional body are regarded as pre-eminent in the occupational field. Its legitimacy is not challenged. The literature (Larson, 1977; Pieczka and L’Etang, 2006; Waeraas, 2007;

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Fitch, 2014; Edwards and Pieczka, 2013; Bourne, 2019) notes much dispute about this, some of which is highlighted above in the discussion about jurisdiction, but also public relations has not achieved social acceptance, partly because of ethical issues as outlined below. Third, body of knowledge and education. There has been significant progress in developing the body of knowledge in the UK and diversifying the theoretical base of public relations as exampled by the expanding number of academic textbooks, journals and conferences in the field over the last 20 years. However, there is still evidence of antiintellectualism in the practitioner community (Gregory and Fawkes, 2019). Interestingly, there is a distinction between what even senior practitioners actually do for the vast majority of their time, which is copywriting, editing and media relations, and what recruiters say they want, which is strategic thinking and planning and business management (CIPR, 2019). There have also been more systematic attempts to influence and standardise the curricula of universities, for example, the Commission for Public Relations Education (2017) produced guidelines for undergraduate education which were ascribed to by many professional associations internationally and these associations in turn certify courses run by universities (Fitch, 2014). The issue here is that many employers and recruiters do not require their entrylevel professionals to have degrees in public relations; in fact, there is evidence that they ignore them or even positively recruit those from other disciplines (CIPR, 2019). The professional associations themselves have developed a range of professional qualifications, for example the Universal Accreditation Board (UAB) runs the Accredited Practitioner course (APR) across the world on behalf of associations such as the Public Relations Society of America. The CIPR has developed its own suite of post-graduate qualifications, including at certificate and diploma levels. Individual associations offer a variety of long or short courses based on various competency and capability frameworks, the latest of which was developed by the Global Alliance [2] (GA, 2018). Fourth, ethics. The literature enumerates the many challenges to the practice of public relations, from general charges of spin and deception to defence of bad corporate and political behaviour to unacceptable and large-scale manipulation of public opinion (Stauber and Rampton, 2004; Dinan and Miller, 2007; Miller and Dinan, 2008: Doorley and Garcia, 2010; Taylor and Kent, 2016; Economist, 2017; Edwards, 2018). This impacts on the prospects for public relations to gain social acceptability and on the status of professionals in organisations and as individuals. This is also an element in the discussion in many of the conversations within the profession on its name and whether a name change will help to distance itself from the worst practices. Having identified the setting provided by the literature for the consideration of chartered status, methodology is now discussed. Methodology The overall methodology is qualitative and brings together a number of elements. It is ethnographic in that the author was the President of the Institute of Public Relations when it applied for chartered status and therefore has direct participant observer insights into the process. She has also been a participant and non-participant observer of the progress of the profession for 26 years having held various offices in both the national professional association in the field and the Global Alliance, the UN recognised Non-Governmental Organisation (NGO), which represents the worldwide community of professional associations. The study also includes archival research. The author maintained a personal archive of Institute documents and correspondence from 2003 to 2005, which is the period, covered by the Charter application process, since she was the official signatory of the Petition to the Queen and had to approve all documentation related to it. This archive was supplemented by

documents requested from and provided by the Institute at the time and in the year following the Charter Application, for example, internal memos between Institute staff and between the Institute and the Department for Education and Skills (DfES). In sum, 54 documents have been analysed, which although cannot be claimed to be the exhaustive record, contains enough data for a comprehensive and triangulated picture to be drawn, with many documents cross-referencing and clearly following-on from others. These documents consist of the official reports of process and progress that were made to the Institute’s Executive Committee, Board and Council and to the AGMs in 2003, 2004 and 2005; letters and reports of telephone calls and meetings between the Institute and Privy Council; correspondence between the Institute and government departments and bodies; letters to and from other individuals consulted; informal and formal correspondence between the author, Director General of the Institute and the Institute’s lawyer who were the main Institute actors involved in these events; drafts and final versions of the formal documents which constituted the Charter submission and internal correspondence with Institute staff. These documents were reviewed to determine the chronology of events leading to the Charter submission and subsequent events and to confirm the areas of concern that were raised during the application process. Thus, both a chronological and thematic analysis were undertaken of the documentation, with the thematic analysis focussing on the issues raised by those challenging the submission, principally the DfES. While the author recognises the difficulties of using archival research (Cook, 2001; L’Etang, 2008; King, 2012; Fitch, 2014) such as its completeness and its reliance on those who use it to be honest, many of these documents, for example the papers for committee meetings, and the Charter documents were and are a matter of public record. To provide an indicator of progress in the professional project since a charter was awarded, the CIPR’s State of the Profession 2019 report (CIPR, 2019) was used. This is an independent, annual survey of members and non-members conducted by a commercial research company that looks at the profile and scope of the profession and investigates issues of contemporary concern. There were 1,500 respondents to the 2019 survey, which equates to 15% of the membership. To add further context, nuance and data to this survey, semi-structured interviews of one hour and 45 min respectively were conducted with the current CEO and the Director of Professional Development and Membership of the CIPR. Neither of these individuals were employed by the Institute or in any way connected with the charter process, but, being employees of over five years’ standing and at a senior level, they were be able to provide an expert and contemporary view on the Institute’s current progress. They were involved in commissioning the State Of The Profession survey and, because of their roles in the Institute and being connected with other professional associations and accrediting bodies, were well positioned to provide an informed view. The interview with the CEO covered the issues that were raised as challenges during the charter process (outlined below). The Director of Development and Membership provided data concerning uptake in qualifications and membership categories and additional trend and attitudinal information about education and training more broadly. Context Before providing the detail of this particular charter journey, it is important to set some context, both of the institute’s history and the process itself. Founded in 1948, the Institute of Public Relations had its roots in the public sector, with a group of public relations officers from within local government providing the impetus for its establishment. Furthermore, largely because of its historic roots, the orientation of public relations in the UK has traditionally been towards promoting the public rather than private

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(that is, corporate) interest and has always been much broader in conception than in the United States with its emphasis on media relations. However, in the 1980s there was significant growth in demand for public relations as corporate departments and consultancies became established in the UK (Edwards, 2014) and this coincided with the arrival of some of the large and influential US consultancies (e.g. Burson-Marsteller, Hill and Knowlton, Edelman and Fleishman-Hillard) who worked mainly for the private sector including the large, newly privatised public sector companies (a Thatcher Government priority) and the burgeoning financial sector. The late 1990s and early 2000s were periods of economic growth which again added numbers to the profession and by 2004, the Institute had 7,500 members, which represented a 50% increase in the previous 5 years (IPR, 2004a). The Institute had made previous unsuccessful, informal moves to obtain a charter in the 1950s and 1970s, but an application in 2004 appeared more auspicious. Informal soundings made to the Privy Council from 2000 onwards indicated the door was not closed. At the end of 2002, a new President-Elect was voted-in to take office in 2004, whose main platform was to apply for chartered status and in 2003, an important research report jointly funded by the then Department of Trade & Industry (DTI) and IPR had showed the importance of the industry as a mature contributor to the UK economy and society. The DTI report was important to the charter initiative not only because of its convincing content, but because the Department became a sponsor for the IPR in the application process. The charter process itself is not straightforward. Chartered organisations are a development of the guilds of the twelfth century in the UK, which were organisations run for and by craftsmen, tradesmen and merchants such as wool merchants, bankers, blacksmiths, weavers, butchers and stonemasons. They existed to oversee and protect their trade and operated welfare and disciplinary regimes. Royal Charters date from the thirteenth century. They were originally granted to create private or public corporations including towns and cities, and defined their purpose and privileges. Today, however, New charters are normally reserved for bodies that work in the public interest (such as professional institutions and charities) and which can demonstrate pre-eminence, stability and permanence in their particular field. (Privy Council, 2019)

Royal Charters are granted by the Sovereign acting on the advice of the Privy Council. The Privy Council dates back to the twelfth century and now deals with business, which for historical reasons, is not covered by individual departments of Government: Royal Charters come under that heading. Ministers in Government serve as Privy Councillors and they provide advice to the Queen because constitutionally she is only able to act on that advice. In light of this process, charter applications have to be undertaken advisedly and with prospects of success. It would be an embarrassment if the Queen were to refuse a petition for a Royal Charter, for all concerned, but particularly for her, and that is to be avoided. The charter process Applying for a charter is an exacting exercise and the Privy Council make it clear that not many submissions go forwards. Even if their basic criteria are met, success is not guaranteed. Enquiries about obtaining a charter first take the form of informal soundings to the Privy Council Office. In this case, enquiries began in 2000 when the Institute was advised that the time was not right for a submission, but that it should carry on with its developments, particularly in the area of professional development where it was undertaking significant revisions. As part of these ongoing informal discussions, in March 2003 the Institute was advised that the criteria applied by the Privy Council Office with regard to charter had become more “flexible”, but that there were a number of key questions that would need addressing. First,

how representative was the IPR of the profession? Second, was it the “voice” of the profession? Third, were membership admission rules robust? Inherent in that question was the issue of qualifications for entry because the working criteria for the Privy Council were a membership of 5,000, at least 75% of whom should have a relevant first degree. Fourth, was the Institute committed to education and training? Fifth, was there a clear Government/ national interest in regulating the profession? After approval at the Institute’s AGM in May 2003 that a charter application should be progressed, an explanatory letter was sent to the Clerk of the Privy Council on 21st May outlining an initial response to these questions. It outlined the broad nature of public relations work, the different job titles that practitioners had, but the desirability, in the public interest, of having a recognised profession that differentiated itself for qualified (to enter) and unqualified practitioners. It also outlined the breadth of membership, links to international associations such as the then existing Confederation of European Public Relations (CERP) and the Global Alliance along with evidence that other such national public relations associations were looking to the IPR as a model of a well-run professional body. Educational activities such as validation of undergraduate and post graduate degrees, the running of its own certificate and diploma and an accredited continuing professional development scheme (a world first in the sector) were offered as evidence of professional activity as were various policy initiatives, including the DTI Report mentioned above and thought-leadership in evaluation, good conduct in lobbying and non-financial reporting. The letter was copied to the DTI, who had agreed to be the Government sponsor for the charter and to Mike Grannatt, the Director General of the Government Information and Communication Service and a key advocate. The letter was well received by the Clerk to the Privy Council in general, but he stated that the main factor for his consideration was whether the granting of a charter would take forward the Government policy aims (unspecified) and be in the public interest. He informed the Institute that he would take advice from those copied into the letter and other advisers, including from the Department for Education and Skills (DfES). While awaiting the results of this consultation, in July 2003 the Institute’s Executive Committee (IPR, 2003) authorised the Director General to begin work on re-casting of its Memorandum and Articles into a Charter, equivalent to a statement of purpose, and By-Laws, which together form the constitution of a chartered body. This is a large task and requires specific legal advice. These two documents are supported by a detailed set of Regulations, which are in effect the governance “operating manual”. The Institute was also advised by the Privy Council to take soundings from other professional bodies and interested parties whose jurisdiction might overlap with its own, particularly the Chartered Institute of Marketing, Public Relations Consultants Association and the various advertising associations since they had the right to counter-petition. If that had happened, the application would have been unlikely to go forwards “since it is not desirable to involve The Queen in controversy” (Letter from Privy Council to DTI, 18th June 2003). Responses from both the DTI and Mike Grannatt were positive and no objections were registered from the contiguous professional associations. Over the autumn and winter of 2003/2004, detailed documentation was prepared, including the Petition to the Queen, the Charter, By-Laws and Regulations. Members of the Institute were consulted in the Spring of 2004 and with the support of the Board and Council, the changes to the legal basis of the Institute to a Chartered body were agreed at the AGM on 23rd June 2004 and the application submitted to the Privy Council on 9th July 2004. In moving the resolution for applying for a charter the President said.

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Figure 1. Timeline of main events of the Charter application process

The time is right to establish a Chartered Institute which will put clear water between qualified and unqualified PR practitioners, and work in the public interest to promote the highest standards of ethical public relations practice. The Institute has grown in strength and numbers over the past five years and can provide the leadership needed to promote the development of a qualified and regulated profession. (IPR, 2004b)

Following an application, the Privy Council then publishes the fact that it has been made in The Gazette, which is the official public record, so that anyone with objections can raise them. This was done on 30th July 2004. It was also in July, and surprisingly given it had been consulted earlier, that the DfES came forward with a number of challenges. It was concerned about diversity; questioned the membership classes the Institute had and particularly, wanted to be assured that users of public relations services had a clear understanding of what is to be expected from different tiers of membership; it wanted to see high value put on the designation Chartered Practitioner as a signifier that those individuals had the highest standards of service quality, integrity and professional competence and that the route to achieving chartered status was rigorous, including a commitment to continuing professional development. The public should be in no doubt that Chartered Practitioners were seen to be in a class of their own, separate from all other types of membership. The DfES also wanted assurance of the standards in the Institute’s own education and training and that of other providers, which it accredited. It wanted a tightening up of administrative procedures to conform to the recommendations of a Qualifications and Curriculum Authority (QCA) (national qualifications regulator) inspection of its Advanced Certificate qualification. Interestingly, the Department wanted the Institute’s CPD offering to include significant elements of management and leadership. An important issue the Department saw was a potential conflict of interest between the Institute being both an accreditor of programmes, for example at universities, and a provider of them and new governance structures should to be put in place to ensure a proper separation of these powers. After a number of discussions between the department, the QCA and action being taken by the Institute, all parties agreed that there was sufficient rigour in place. The results were then presented to the Privy Council and following approval of both the Charter and the ByLaws by them, on 9th February 2005 a petition for a Royal Charter was approved by the Queen in Council (i.e. in the presence and on the advice of the Privy Council). This was notified to the IPR in February 2005 and the Royal Charter, signed by and with the Royal Seal of the Queen, was delivered to the now Chartered Institute of Public Relations on 14th June 2005. To aid understanding, a timeline with the key events of the charter application process is given in Figure 1.

Sept 2002

Mar 2003

May 2003

Autumn/winter 2003/2004

Spring 2004

23 June 2004

9 July 2004

July 2004

Autumn 2004

9 Feb 2005

New President of the Institute elected for 2004 on a mandate to seek chartered status

Privy Council indicates more flexible approach to considering charter applications

Following approval to proceed at its AGM, Institute sends Privy Council a paper, ‘The IPR case for a Royal Charter’. Privy Council uses paper as basis of consultation with relevant government departments & advisers.

After positive indications from Privy Council, IPR begins consultation with other professional bodies and interested parties (e.g. CIM, PRCA). Detailed drafting of charter documentation commences.

Consultation with IPR members after Council approves draft charter documents.

IPR AGM approves change in legal basis of Institute and application for charter submission, including all documentation.

Charter application submitted to Privy Council

Questions raised by DfES. Notice placed in The Gazette 30th July.

Resolution of issues raised by DfES

Charter petition approved by the Queen in Council

14th June 2005 Royal Charter presented to the Institute at the AGM.

Benefits and obligations of obtaining a Royal Charter Obtaining chartered status brought a number of benefits and consequences to the Institute, which remain currently in place. A charter Confers independent legal personality on an organisation and defines its objectives, constitution and powers to govern its own affairs (Privy Council, 2019).

Although subject to the general law, a chartered organisation is self-regulating, but any amendments to the charter itself can only be made by the Queen in Council and changes to bylaws have to be approved by the Privy Council, including changes to membership categories and criteria. Any amendments have to be seen to be for the public benefit. All this implies a clear obligation to work for the public good, including acting in an ethical manner. In addition, Government regulates its qualifications via the national regulatory body. The Institute has a statutory right to be consulted by Government on matters that pertain to the profession and it is expected to be active in the public affairs arena. An example of where this has taken place is in the registration of lobbyists. As with other professional bodies, the Institute is expected to be active internationally and here its membership of the Global Alliance is important. For CIPR members, the professional Code of Ethics becomes doubly important since it is enshrined as binding on members in the By-Laws. In the detailed regulations it is linked to the obligation to work for the public good, building trust and transparency being key elements. The chartered mark is also a public indicator of the highest standards of professionalism and competence and the By-Laws require the Institute to keep a separate register of chartered public relations practitioners. Discussion As an indicator of progress, this discussion section takes as a point of reference the CIPR’s State of the Profession 2019 report (CIPR, 2019). Interviews with the current CEO and Director of Professional Development and Membership were also undertaken to confirm current trends and to inform anecdotal evidence. Details of the survey and interviews are given in the Methodology section. As can be seen from the process outlined above, the Institute was challenged on a number of the basic tenets described in the literature as defining a profession: issues around barriers to entry, that is, the dismantling of discriminatory barriers; the status of practitioners, particularly chartered practitioners, because this affects the market and potentially social closure; the standard of its training and its oversight of certified programmes by other providers. This is not surprising given it is the responsibility of the Privy Council to ensure that aspirants meet the test of being a profession. That the Institute was able to satisfy these challenges is vindication of its application. However, legitimacy, and especially social acceptance and closure, does not only depend on a profession meeting these technical requirements. As indicated in the literature (Edwards, 2014, 2018; Edwards and Pieczka, 2013; Bourne, 2019), legitimacy has to be achieved at the macro, meso and micro levels and these come together in the legitimation, or otherwise of the professional body because it is the institutional representative of the collective individual membership in society. On the issue of diversity, there have been numerous initiatives to broaden the intake to the profession and to retain those minorities who enter. The Institute launched its first diversity policy in 2005 and since then has worked singly and with other organisations such as the Taylor Bennett Foundation [3]. However, ethnic minorities are still under-represented with the State of the Profession 2019 report showing that nine in ten (92%) now classify themselves as white, compared to 88% in 2018 and 90% in 2017. Likewise, although it is predominantly female, men are over-represented at senior levels: the profession is two-thirds

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(67%) female, but men take nearly 44% of the most senior roles. Furthermore, the gender pay gap persists although it is decreasing: in 2019 it was £5,202, £1,523 less than in 2018. The number of people with disabilities in the profession is very low and the social class make-up is of deep concern with the profession having 28% of respondents from fee-paying schools, four times the national average and this is getting worse with the figure being 16% in 2016. Added to this, there is a distinct preponderance of membership based in and around London and given many large organisations and Government departments are headquartered there, it is a reasonable assumption that there are more senior leaders in the capital. In terms of professional accreditation, individual chartered status, which is the highest level of accreditation, was thought to be an attractive title for practitioners to aspire to, but numbers have remained relatively low with 312 people having qualified at the time of writing. However, enquiries with the CIPR revealed that there are a further 1,401 Accredited Practitioners, which is the second highest level of professional accreditation and this indicates a level of positivity towards formal accreditation. Accredited Public Relations Practitioner status is awarded to members who have completed two consecutive cycles of CIPR Continuing Professional Development. Again the literature stresses the importance of those within professions enacting the role (Deephouse and Suchman, 2008; Lawrence and Suddeby, 2006; Scott, 2008; Edwards, 2018), but it appears that within the profession itself there is no great appetite to claim a professional identity at the highest level. However, the CEO of the CIPR believes there has been a change in attitude about chartered public relations practitioner status with an increase in interest in chartership being evident over the last two years. For example, a new PDF on the website launched in September 2018 achieved 12,000 downloads in nine months. Furthermore, those obtaining Chartered Practitioner status have become a strong advocacy body and their numbers are such that they are beginning to have an influence on the wider membership. The two issues mentioned above, diversity and the numbers of those seeking the highest level of professional accreditation, are key to the closure arguments advanced in the literature. Certainly, in the UK, the barriers to entry and progression are replicated in other professions (Saks, 2015), but while many in other professions strive for the highest level of accreditation because it is essential for progression and is a socially accepted marker of professional respectability (Edwards, 2018), within the public relations profession it appears it is not viewed as such. As such, social closure is put at risk by the profession itself as well as by external threats (see below). In addition, it was thought that the achievement of chartered status would be a significant milestone in the professional project for public relations in the UK. Its actual achievement through public test and the associated powerful symbolism of the Royal Charter itself would help to enhance its reputation, secure its legitimacy and lead to a level of social closure. Again, the State of the Profession 2019 report ranks “not being seen as a professional discipline” as being the third biggest challenge facing the profession behind “changing social and digital landscape” and “under-representation of public relations practitioners at board level”. This point again reflects the literature discussion about social closure being achieved when societal, and organisational as well as individual legitimacy becomes a given. There is also much anecdotal evidence (corroborated by the CIPR CEO) that public relations is still as excoriated as it has been in the past and this is often linked to the recurrent ethical challenges outlined in the literature review. The Bell Pottinger affair in South Africa (Economist, 2017) was a severe blow because a number of those involved were UK based and the company was headquartered in the UK. The action of the professional body to discipline individual members was seen as slow and inadequate and contrasted unfavourably to the trade body (PRCA), who quickly expelled the consultancy from its ranks and was able to do so, because the wrongdoing of the corporate body of the consultancy was evident. The culpability of individuals was by no means as apparent and the Institute’s own disciplinary

procedures were framed in such a way as to require certain processes to be fulfilled which, in this case, took some time. In addition, because public relations is not a closed profession, the public mind finds it difficult to distinguish between those who call themselves public relations practitioners but are not members of the professional body, and those who are and who are bound by its Code of Ethics. The CIPR cannot discipline non-members, but it was not quick enough to comment on the principles at stake. The State of the Profession 2019 ranks “unethical public relations practice” as the sixth largest challenge the profession faces and the CEO’s opinion is that the CIPR needs to show more leadership on ethical and public interest issues in the future. The view of the author is that social closure as expressed in the public discourse and in the media seems as distant as it was before the charter was obtained. The pejorative terms in common use such as “only a PR exercise”, or “spin doctor” do not appear to be used any the less. The CIPR’s CEO corroborates this opinion. The DfES also posed a challenge around qualifications and training, including continuing professional development. The numbers of students taking CIPR recognised courses at both undergraduate and postgraduate level is falling according to the CIPR’s Director of Professional Development and Membership, although it is difficult to be precise because a number of courses are hybridising to encompass more than one communication discipline. The State of the Profession 2019 shows that 62% of respondents have a first degree in a subject other than public relations or communication, and only 14% have. 13% state they have a Masters degree in public relations or communication. The CIPR is a member of the Federation of Awarding Bodies (FAB) and has its own professional courses. The intake to the CIPRs certificate and diploma have also declined according to the CIPR’s Director of Professional Development and Membership, but the State of the Profession report (CIPR, 2019) indicates that 45% of respondents have professional qualifications in public relations. Given the Certificate and Diploma programmes had been launched just six years before the charter application, this indicates good progress. Evidence from the CIPR is that the number of CIPR Corporate Affiliate organisations taking out group membership is increasing, and these employers want shorter, skills-based courses, often bespoke to their industry and delivered on-site, as opposed to qualifications that take longer to acquire and have a broader curriculum, including management topics. This is partly for financial reasons, but also because of uncertainty about how the profession will develop over the next period given the increasing use of AI and the changing role that professionals are now required to undertake as the communicative disciplines converge. A disappointment for the Institute is that the courses offering more strategic insights are less in demand than those catering for immediate skills requirements. As an indication of progress however, the State of the Profession 2019 reports that chartered practitioners earn on average, £18,000 more than the average respondent (but this may reflect their seniority in some part), and those with a professional qualification earn on average £3,800 more. Interestingly, full-time CIPR members earn £2,963 more than nonmembers. It seems then that Larson’s proposition of market advantage for professionals (Larson, 1997, 2012) holds in this case. Although and interestingly, not challenged as part of the charter application process, jurisdictional boundaries continue to be contested. However, the CIPR has taken a more aggressive policy lead in a number of areas. For example, Artificial Intelligence (AI) was mentioned earlier and, according to the CIPR’s CEO, the CIPR is acknowledged as the leading public relations professional association in the world on this topic. However, there is no doubt that in the communicative professions, marketing, especially with its control of customer relationship software is taking the lead on big data. Given the transformational effect that AI is having on working practices, this is a concern. There is opportunity,

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however, for an ethical role for public relations as the discipline with oversight for relationships as a whole. This is a topic too large to cover in this article, but it does relate to the fluidity of jurisdictional boundaries covered in the literature. A living, dynamic profession needs to be alert to jurisdictional threats, but it also requires the agility to capitalise on new opportunities for changing and expanding its role. In summary, this discussion has shown that while there has been progress on some fronts, such as pay disparity and the overall numbers of those qualified in public relations, the four areas identified in the literature, jurisdictional boundaries; closure; body of knowledge and education, and ethics, and mirrored by the DfES concerns, remain live challenges for the Chartered Institute of Public Relations. Conclusions It is impossible to know what would have happened to the standing of the profession if chartered status had not been achieved, but as the discussion above shows, while it has not had the impact in a number of areas that was envisaged, in others it has: the professional project continues. Looking back at the original documents, there is a profound sense of deja vu. Some of the topics for discussion and the challenges apparent in 2004 remain current: diversity, education and parts of training being cases in point. Despite the charter, there are constant battles still being fought over professional jurisdiction, with marketing continuing to encroach as well as management consultancy. This latter group are of particular concern. As the value of the intangible asset base of organisations increases and the fight for legitimacy and “voice” intensifies, the importance of public relations or “communication” is being increasingly recognised. Management consultants, who appear to have more credibility, are moving into this space. Their credibility is, ironically, not because of their demonstrated expertise, but because these consultants are often attached to professional services firms of lawyers and accountants, professions that have gained legitimacy and social closure. There are new arrivals too: behavioural economists and organisational psychologists to name but two. Issues remain with the legitimacy of the profession. “Working for the public good” is not a natural descriptor of the public relations profession for most people. The constant stream of negative media and stories from other sources, many of which are supported by evidence, indicates that the profession’s moral compass is not always set to True North. Profit and supposed client interest trumps the public interest too often in the public mind. The DfES desired to see more continuing professional development in management and leadership, but this is still all too often sidelined for skills training. A consequence of this is not only that practitioners potentially lack these particular capabilities, but it unfortunately has the effect of confirming the practice in the technical role rather than that of the strategic adviser (CIPR, 2019). It is therefore, not over-stretching the evidence to conclude that the profession’s progress to the long-desired position at the Board table is being inhibited and will be until it pursues the path to professional accreditation with equal zeal as its erstwhile peers around the Board table. For those who initiated the process, obtaining chartered status was always a point in a journey not a destination. There may not have been as rapid progress as desired, but there is progress. Salaries are rising and demand for competent practitioners is buoyant. The Trusted Adviser role is highly valued and those at the top of the profession can expect to be well rewarded. There are more women in senior positions. Combined with these tangible denoters of success, is a spirit of optimism in the profession as a whole. It does have something important to contribute in a turbulent world that is finding itself fragmenting and

confronting huge challenges such as climate change and the threat and reality of pandemics. It can contribute to positive relations and it can make a difference in society by being a source of reliable information and a beacon for proper conduct. This article has highlighted and discussed the principal legitimacy challenges that faced the profession when it applied for a Royal Charter in the UK and reflects on progress on them in the following years. In identifying the widening and closing gaps relating to these challenges, a number of key issues that form the consistent and persistent threats to legitimacy have been discovered. These areas set a fruitful research agenda for the academy. For the practice, they demand radical examination and action if the aspiration of social closure is to be achieved. Notes 1. “Profession” is a contested label as far as its application to public relations is concerned with other terms such as “craft”, “occupation,” “industry” “para profession” being preferred and justified by others. However, in the context of this article it is deemed by the author to be the most appropriate term since the achievement of chartered status gives it formal recognition as a profession, in the UK at least. 2. The Global Alliance is the confederation of professional associations worldwide and represents some 200,000 individual practitioners who are all members of professional associations. 3. The Taylor Bennett Foundation runs training and mentoring programmes to encourage black, Asian and ethnic minority graduates to pursue a career in public relations. See https://www. taylorbennettfoundation.org/.

References Abbott, A. (1988), The System of the Professions: An Essay on the Division of Expert Labor, University of Chicago Press, London. Bourne, C. (2019), “The public relations profession as discursive boundary work”, Public Relations Review, Vol. 45 No. 5, p. 101789, doi: 10.1016/j.pubrev.2019.05.010. Brock, D.M. and Saks, M. (2016), “Professions and organizations: a European perspective”, European Management Journal, Vol. 34 No. 1, pp. 1-6, doi: 10.1016/j.emj.2015.11.003. CIPR (Chartered Institute of Public Relations) (2019), State of the Profession 2019, CIPR, London, available at: https://www.cipr.co.uk/sites/default/files/11812%20State%20of%20Profession_ v12.pdf. Commission for Public Relations Education (2017), “Fast-forward: foundations and future state. Educators and practitioners”, available at: http://www.commissionpred.org/commissionreports/fast-forward-foundations-future-state-educators-practitioners/. Cook, T. (2001), “Archival science and postmodernism: new formulations for old concepts”, Archival Science, Vol. 1 No. 1, pp. 3-24, doi: 10.1007/BF02435636. Deephouse, D.L. and Suchman, M. (2008), “Legitimacy in organizational institutionalism”, in Greenwood, R., Oliver, C., Sahlin, K. and Suddaby, R. (Eds), The Sage Handbook of Organizational Institutionalism, Sage, Thousand Oaks, pp. 49-77. Dinan, W. and Miller, D. (2007), Thinker, Faker, Spinner, Spy: Corporate PR and the Assault on Democracy, Pluto Press, London. Doorly, J. and Garcia, H.F. (2010), Reputation Management, Routledge, New York. Economist, The (2017), “Scrambled in Africa: a famous PR firm suffers a PR disaster pottinger”, September 7, The Economist, available at: https://www.economist.com/britain/2017/09/07/afamous-london-pr-firm-suffers-a-pr-disaster (accessed 10 June 2019).

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Privy Council (2003), Letter to Department of Trade and Industry, CIPR Archives, London (accessed 18 June 2003). Privy Council (2019), “Royal charters”, available at: https://privycouncil.independent.gov.uk/royalcharters/. Saks, D. (2012), “Defining a profession: the role of knowledge and expertise”, Professions and Professionalism, Vol. 2 No. 1, pp. 1-10, doi: 10.7577/pp.v2i1.151. Saks, D. (2015), “Inequalities, marginality and the professions”, Current Sociology Review, Vol. 63 No. 6, pp. 850-868, doi: 10.1177/0011392115587332. Sandhu, S. (2009), “Strategic communication: an institutional perspective”, International Journal of Strategic Communication, Vol. 3 No. 2, pp. 72-92, doi: 10.1080/15531180902805429. Scott, W.R. (2008), Institutions and Organizations: Ideas and Interests, Sage, Los Angeles. Stauber, J. and Rampton, S. (2004), Toxic Sludge Is Good for You, Robinson, London. Suchman, M.C. (1995), “Managing legitimacy: strategic and institutional approaches”, Academy of Management Review, Vol. 20 No. 3, pp. 571-610, doi: 10.2307/258788. Taylor, M. and Kent, M.L. (2016), “Towards legitimacy and professionalism: a call to repeal the Gillett Amendment”, Public Relations Review, Vol. 42 No. 1, pp. 1-8, doi: 10.1016/j.pubrev.2015.09.012. Waeraas, A. (2007), “The Re-enactment of social institutions: max weber and public relations”, Public Relations Review, Vol. 33 No. 2, pp. 281-286, doi: 10.1016/j.pubrev.2007.05.007. Wylie, F.W. (1994), “Commentary: public relations is not yet a profession”, Public Relations Review, Vol. 20 No. 1, pp. 1-3, doi: 10.1016/0363-8111(94)90109-0. About the author Anne Gregory (PhD) is Professor of Corporate Communication in the Department of Management at the University of Huddersfield. She is an internationally renowned teacher and researcher, holding Adjunct and Visiting Professor roles at the Universities of Navarra in Spain, RMIT University and UTS in Australia and leading numerous international research projects. She is a former President of the CIPR in the UK, former Chair of the Global Alliance of Public Relations and Communication Management and has been awarded the CIPR Sir Stephen Tallents Medal and the IPR Pathfinder Award. She is currently a Reviewer of Government Communication, appointed by the UK Prime Ministers’ and Cabinet Office. Anne Gregory is the corresponding author and can be contacted at: [email protected]

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Bandwidth lost: family planners and post-war television

Family planners and post-war television

Jessica Borge

Departement d’Histoire des sciences de la Vie et de la Sante, University of Strasbourg, Strasbourg, France and School of Advanced Study, University of London, London, UK Abstract Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to show how early planned PR efforts at the British Family Planning Association [FPA] resulted in an epoch-making television appearance in November 1955, tessellating with current methodological debates in the history of PR. Design/methodology/approach – This paper uses a qualitative, micro-history approach and original archival document research conducted at Wellcome Collection, London and the BBC Written Archives Centre, Caversham, to reconstruct early PR activity at the FPA. It intercedes in debates on historiography, the diversification of the history of PR and the concepts of mediatization and advocacy in historical contexts. Findings – Attaining broadcast coverage for birth control issues was historically difficult and was made more so by Marie Stopes. The subject was commonly packaged into the less problematic issues of population and infertility. The FPA achieved explicit television coverage in 1955 after establishing a focussed PR plan to stage and exploit a silver jubilee event. This vindicated the FPA’s mission, validated service users and created broadcast opportunities. Research limitations/implications – Research is limited by temporal scope (1870s–1950s), and reliance on document sources, footage of television programmes being unavailable. This paper has implications for the history of PR, contributing to the diversification of the field by suggesting an original approach to the intersection of public relations and social change. Originality/value – This paper surfaces overlooked primary sources and is the first account of how birth control appeared as a topic on early British broadcast media. Keywords Television, Public relations, Birth control, Great Britain, 1950s Paper type Research paper

655 Received 30 November 2019 Revised 4 May 2020 3 July 2020 Accepted 3 July 2020

Historical background The modern history of British birth control might be said to follow two core strands as follows: the trade in commercial, for-profit, mass-produced and branded appliance contraceptives and the progressive non-profit organization [NPO] campaigning strand, both of which emerged in the late Victorian period. The NPO birth control sector – which is the focus of this paper – began with the Malthusian League. This was set up to promote an abstract concept of family limitation in the 1870s (Fryer, 1967; Ledbetter, 1976; Manvell, 1976). Following the opening of the first dedicated contraceptive clinic by Dr Aletta Jacobs in Amsterdam in 1882 (Drucker, 2020), Malthusian campaigners such as C.V. Drysdale agitated for similar clinics in Britain. When Marie Stopes (1880–1958), a botanist turned eugenicist and sex/birth control advocate launched the North London “Mothers’ Clinic” in 1921 (and which was unconnected to the Malthusian League), other clinics followed. In 1930, voluntary clinics across Britain amalgamated as the National Birth Control Association, renamed the Family Planning Association [FPA] in 1939. Marie Stopes opted out of the FPA, and the now-dated Malthusian League continued to exist only in the shadows Early research for this article was undertaken under a block grant partnership from the Arts and Humanities Research Council, UK Arts and Humanities Research Council via Birkbeck College, University of London. Additional research was supported by the ERC BodyCapital project, which receives funding from the European Research Council (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme.

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(Ledbetter, 1976). These organizations differed in their essential remits. The Malthusian League aimed to promote the concept of birth control without supplying contraceptives; Stopes, and her Society for Constructive Birth Control, promoted and supplied contraception on a eugenic basis, and the FPA lobbied for the mainstreaming of contraceptive practice in the context of family happiness, supplying contraceptives so that poor families could space their children. The FPA provided quality-tested contraceptive devices via clinics on a low-cost model (Leathard, 1980), ultimately aiming for government recognition of birth control as a social and public health necessity. But although it lobbied on this basis (Dowse and Peel, 1965; Wootton, 1975), the FPA’s early planned media work and efforts to secure mass media exposure have been neglected. This paper shows that broadcast television, in particular, was of huge value to the FPA, prompting it to draw up a plan and court producers. Examination of this relationship allows us to better understand the FPA’s approach to television as a publicity medium: the topic also suggests an original approach to examining the intersection of public relations and social change. Methodology This paper combines a qualitative, chronological approach with original archival research to examine FPA PR policy in the 1950s, with particular recourse to its silver jubilee celebrations in November 1955 and the ground-breaking television appearance that accompanied it. It intercedes in PR history in three important ways. Firstly, this paper contributes a British case study to a field dominated by American works, answering Jacquie L’Etang’s call to “. . .research PR activities in cultures other than the USA in culturally specific and grounded ways to correct the current scholarly imbalance” (L’Etang, 2008, p. 329). As will be shown, birth control stakeholders operated within a culturally specific set of limitations encompassing the history of PR, the family planning movement and the development of broadcast television in Britain. In reconstructing events surrounding the FPA’s November 1955 television appearance, this paper works within L’Etang’s suggested model of PR as a type of advocacy (p. 332), again moving away from standard American models and showing how, in this instance, the services of Campbell–Johnson were offered pro bono to the FPA. The second intercession is this paper’s unconventional approach in view of McKie and Xifra’s assertion that “. . .the PR field needs to be cognizant with different approaches to historiography, to update its sources, and to adapt to associated developments in the broader historical field” (McKie and Xifra, 2014, p. 670). This paper gathers material around a core of research objects that no longer exist, namely broadcast radio and television programmes (see below). This approach also forms part of the third intervention, acting to “diversify” PR history (McKie and Xifra, 2014) by bringing in themes currently absent from the field, namely, birth control and the mediatization of the birth control movement resulting from the efforts of PR work. Mediatization has been described “. . .a matter of communication-how changes occur when communication patterns are transformed due to new communication tools and technologies, or in short: the “media”” (Lundby, 2014, p. 3). The FPA viewed television as potentially transformative but had to learn the techniques of PR in order to harness it: this paper tells the story of that learning curve. The first half of this paper sketches the early attempts of family planners to get onto television (sections 1-5). It then focusses on key actors, namely Marie Stopes, a notorious and outspoken family planner/author/eugenicist, the BBC, and the FPA. At the centre of this paper (sections 6-10) is a micro-history of the historic November 1955 TV appearance, which is to say a microscopic case study “concentrating on small social units consisting of concrete individuals” (Iggers, 1997, p. 14). Original document research was undertaken at the archives of the FPA (Wellcome Collection, London) and BBC files and correspondence (BBC Written

Archives Centre, Caversham, Reading). British television is notoriously difficult to examine because programmes made between the 1930s and 1980s were rarely recorded and cannot be re-watched (Bryant, 2010; Kavanagh et al., 2010; Wheatley, 2007). Research for this paper has found that, in combination with a lack of visual material – the “bandwidth lost” of the title – there is a lack of clarity in the paper archive over when and where the FPA actually appeared on TV. In the early days, appearances were unplanned and scattered. Correspondence sometimes confuses the titles of TV and radio shows (such as Woman’s Hour) and at other times references TV without mentioning the programme. As such, pinpointing exactly when the FPA was broadcast has required an extra level of detective work, and appearances have been identified by cross-referencing BBC Genome (an online database of historic Radio Times broadcast listings) [1] with dates and times mentioned in FPA correspondence. British television had only one channel prior to 1955 (the BBC), to which the second channel (ITV) was added late that year. The third channel, BBC 2, arrived in 1964. The small number of channels makes researching TV in the 1950s easier than it might otherwise have been, but it is still necessary to triangulate sources. So far as the BBC is concerned, only written archives are available for academic researchers to consult and no catalogue is publicly available, so research depends on the considerable knowledge of archives staff. This study has consulted papers pertaining to policy in respect of broadcasting family planning as a subject and also files (mostly of correspondence) documenting the BBC’s difficult relationship with Marie Stopes. These were kindly located for me by the archivists at the BBC Written Archives Centre. In respect of the special theme of this issue, this paper demonstrates how PR techniques were being adopted at a grassroots level just as the British PR industry was itself professionalizing (L’Etang, 2004). It is also a case study of the adoption of early PR techniques by non-corporate bodies. This is useful for understanding the proactive agency of NPOs and also the significant contribution of PR and PR techniques in defending and enhancing the reputation of controversial non-corporate agencies. FPA as a birth control pressure group Pressure group activity has a long alliance with birth control dating back to the sensational trial of Charles Bradlaugh (1833–1891) and Annie Besant (1847–1933), who were tried for obscenity in 1876 after disseminating Charles Knowlton’s Fruits of Philosophy, a pamphlet on birth control. Their conviction (six months imprisonment and heavy fines) was overturned on appeal, apparently giving public advocacy of birth control the green light: The Malthusian League, the original British birth control advocacy group, was set up expressly for this purpose (Manvell, 1976). Pressure group activity – and, we might say, related activities such as PR – went hand-in-hand with the birth control movement (Dowse and Peel, 1965). Both the Malthusian League and Marie Stopes published news-sheets (the New Generation and Birth Control News) promoting their own particular brands of advocacy, and Stopes was heavily invested in self-promotion, relying on the saleability of her own personal qualities to advance the cause, as she saw it. It could be said, then, that the FPA came from a line of pressure groups (Wootton, 1975). In its supply capacity (as apart from lobbying) the FPA was instrumental in devising and implementing systematic day-to-day birth control services, for the trailing and classification of contraceptives, and for providing pregnancy testing. It also offered sub-fertility treatment and psychosexual counselling. FPA members cooperated with government initiatives and advised local authorities on contraceptive provision as a part of everyday health care, rooted in marriage, the family and family values. It was a female-run organization with a feminist agenda, focussed on female methods of contraception such as diaphragms, caps and spermicides (Cook, 2004) and aimed to become the respectable public face of birth control.

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Exploitation of new media Historically, family limitation campaigns have sought to exploit new media, including the moving image. In America, early film was beyond the purview of the restrictive Comstock laws, which curbed the dissemination of “lewd” material, and birth control pioneer Margaret Sanger (1879–1966) used it for propaganda in the 1910s and 1920s. In the 1930s attention turned to radio, then television in the 1950s (Parry, 2013). A similar timeline played out in Britain where, in 1923, Stopes’s narrative feature film Maisie’s Marriage created a furore among censors (Kuhn, 1986). Maisie’s Marriage effectively drew attention to both Stopes and her books including the runaway success Married Love (1918), but the topic remained controversial. Broadcast radio, which was begun by the BBC in 1922, naturally lent itself as an instrument for the discussion of public interest topics. Popular science writer, philosopher and broadcaster Julian Huxley (1887–1975) was among the first to mention it on air in 1925 and 1926, subsequently questioning where BBC policy on the subject actually stood. To Huxley, it appeared that, “though the policy of the B.B.C. may be against the raising of the question in a controversial way in debate, this does not preclude the topic from ever being mentioned over the wireless” (Huxley, 1926). In other words, the subject of birth control was limited to passing reference in the early days of broadcasting. The Malthusian League tested this supposition by approaching the BBC with a view to making a radio program about contraception but was opposed, the BBC’s position being that any such talk would have to take the form of a debate with all sides represented. The League, being used to resistance from mass media (D’Arcy, 1977), then suggested the subject be camouflaged within the less thorny issue of over-population (Controversy Committee, 1928– 1929). After all, this harked back to the Reverend Thomas Malthus’s (1766–1834) original concept of population “checks” (Malthus, 1798). It was in this context that Huxley himself broached the subject (Huxley, 1926). One major problem, however, was that British population levels had reduced, posing the question of just how relevant population debates really were (Gauthier, 1993; Hall, 2000, 2013). Nonetheless, the all-encompassing population issue, despite being very much discussed for its own sake (Gauthier, 1993; Hall, 2000, 2013), provided birth control propagandists with a means of implicitly advertising their cause. The editor of New Generation, it was suggested to the BBC, might “give in an attractive form a broadcast talk on birth control”. The idea was debated within the BBC’s Controversy Committee which, having told The Malthusian League it would prefer to make its own arrangements for any such talks, proposed a discussion on population to appear on Talks for Women Voters, where the population question was a “burning topic of discussion” (Controversy Committee, 1928–1929). Although not entirely adverse to the discussion of birth control, the BBC remained resistant (Teeling, 1959; Leathard, 1980). Newspapers were also cautious (Bingham, 2009). Clothed in the population debate, coverage of birth control took off in a marginal way over the next decade. On BBC Radio 2LO [London], for example, a Mr G.D.H. Cole discussed “the diverging opinions of Malthus and Godwin in relation to Britain’s modern “Population Problem”” as part of a light entertainment schedule, in between book reviews and chamber music (Cole, 1928). By the winter of 1933–4, the letters section of The Listener was debating birth control in relation to slums, following an episode of Some British Institutions called “A Medical Officer explains” (The Radio Times, 1933). Although the corporation was keen to avoid one-sidedness, birth control advocates ultimately benefitted from the BBC’s public service remit, which decreed that all reasonable topics be considered, providing they were in the public interest. Consequently, and in lieu of direct discussions on birth control, the population question was addressed with relative regularity on BBC radio in the 1930s (Beveridge, 1932; Gauthier, 1993; Glass, 1940). When the BBC broadcast its first regular TV programmes in 1932, the FPA was only just gaining momentum as an organization, but it was a long time before television was properly

exploited. This was for several reasons, not least of which was that broadcasting was limited to an hour or less per day in the 1930s and was suspended during the Second World War. The FPA was not universally approved of, either: some regarded it as highly controversial, and Catholic opposition was strong. Coupled with this was the fact that, unlike The Malthusian League, the FPA actually sold contraceptives. If the Association was publicly discussed, this may well be construed as advertising, which – theoretically, at least – fell foul of public service remits. These “dark days of family planning” would shadow the FPA into the 1950s (Leathard, 1980). The BBC’s feud with Marie Stopes A further barrier to broadcast was the long-running feud between the BBC and Marie Stopes, who was unofficially embargoed, firstly on radio and then on television. A one-woman publicity machine, Stopes was infuriated over the ban. “The B.B.C. shifts and wriggles over this question of me being allowed to broadcast, and it looks as though they are quite determined that I shall not,” she wrote to one correspondent. “Of course, you know the reason, do not you?” she wrote to another. “Roman Catholic influence in the B.B.C. I am convinced, and no one strong enough outside to fight it” (BBC Ban on MCS, 1942–1943). Catholic opposition to birth control was a reality of the times, but it is likely that Stopes’s personal harassment of the BBC contributed to ill feeling. She and her well-wishers bombarded them with written requests for broadcasts, for meetings and for programmes featuring Stopes and her other talents, such as poetry. But although the BBC consistently maintained that there was no ban, it did not invite Stopes to speak on any of her other expert subjects, which included literature, botany and coal (BBC RCont 1, Talks, Stopes, Marie. Dr, 1930–1962; BBC Ban on MCS, 1942–1943). The feud culminated in a printed tirade in which Stopes accused the BBC of “cheap vulgarity” in its programming (Stopes, 1941), which did not help matters. Although the FPA was not affiliated with Stopes, she had claimed the mantle of the birth control cause early on, and the difference between their different brands of advocacy was not obvious. A programme of targeted PR was one of the ways in which the FPA might make the difference clear. Early PR planning at the FPA It was the 1949 Royal Commission on Population that galvanized the FPA National Executive Committee into assembling a PR strategy. The Commission, through which the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists conducted a retrospective enquiry into family limitation and human fertility (Hall, 2000, 2013), recommended that the new National Health Service [NHS] include provision for family planning services. Although the NHS was available to all and publicly financed, its creation had been politically delicate without the added complication of birth control, which, in any case, was not widely recognized as a medical issue (Peel, 1964). According to the commission, discussion around family limitation remained “furtive”, especially as the birth rate was low. Whilst the Commission’s findings were discussed in the printed press, they did not make much of a splash politically. Neither the report nor its recommendations were debated in parliament, let alone implemented (Leathard, 1980). This effectively meant that contraceptive provision did not transfer to the NHS but remained with the FPA. Successive post-war governments, reported The Times of 17 July 1959, preferred to “let the situation remedy itself” [2] . Nonetheless, the Royal Commission’s report motivated the FPA to regroup and to look forward. This was especially important following the stagnant war years, during which the FPA had not developed its aims but simply worked to keep clinics open (Hall, 2000, 2013). The FPA was praised by the Commission (Leathard, 1980) and meant to exploit the report. Population questions continued to provide a useful inroad into the issue.

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Accordingly, in March 1950, the FPA formed a publicity sub-committee and coordinated with the release of the Royal Commission’s report to give a press conference. Unfortunately, this was a damp squib (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956). The FPA was too inexperienced to capitalize on the opportunity (Bingham, 2009) and too poor to bring in a professional PRO. The new sub-committee nevertheless aimed to impose order on the situation. At first, it was divided into two groups designed to promote the Royal Commission’s report (in the hope of having it debated in parliament) and to exploit press interest in the Commission’s findings. The Parliamentary Group was made up of invited MPs from all parties alongside FPA members and supporters aiming to lobby for the implementation of the Royal Commission’s recommendations. The second group, designated as the Parliamentary and Public Policy Sub-Committee, focussed on public policy and publicity for the Association, its object being “the spread of knowledge of the F.P.A. and general furtherance of its aims”. By September of 1952, and having taken professional advice, both groups were amalgamated as the Public Relations Sub-Committee (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956). Few records of the sub-committee’s activities exist aside from minutes, but what these show is that the aspiration of getting the Royal Commission debated in parliament failed, as did negotiations with the Minister of Health over the use of Regional Hospital Board premises for family planning clinics. The Association was told plainly that, “. . .if the Minister (with whom the decision would lie) decided as the F.P.A. wished, there might easily be trouble in the House of Commons, but if he decided against the F.P.A. no one would make a fuss”. In 1954, and in view of the political brick wall faced by the FPA, the sub-committee elected to cease promotion of the report. Instead, the FPA would “concern itself with influencing public opinion as widely as possible” (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956). This was the “great period of expansion” for FPA clinics, with a new one opening every two weeks (Himsworth, 1976; Leathard, 1980), and the FPA put its resources into maximizing public support. The early years of the PR Sub-Committee were spent brainstorming ideas and gradually learning what mechanisms, channels, personalities, networks and funds the FPA might employ to get internal PR up and running. The PR industry was itself beginning to professionalize in the 1950s (L’Etang, 2004), so it was an excellent time to learn what successful, targeted campaigning actually looked like. The FPA raised a pot of £948 towards the hire of a professional PRO, but it turned out that this was not even enough for a basic retainer. The services of a PR executive from London firm Campbell–Johnson, the FPA learned, would be upwards of £1,500 per year, with expenses on top, and would be required for at least two years to be effective. Founding director Alan Campbell–Johnson was generally reluctant to entertain ad-hoc requests from small organisations, but in the case of the FPA he loaned them, pro-bono, the services of his PA, Ruth Smith (Campbell Johnson, Correspondence 1953–1958; PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956). Smith suggested that the FPA spend its small pot on a prestige publication. This idea later materialized as a book, The Human Sum (Rolph, 1957; PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956; Publicity Scheme, 1954–1957). In the meantime, television was a hot topic as the nation awaited the launch of the second channel, ITV. It was with this in mind that the sub-committee consolidated its aim to influence formers of popular opinion (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956). Lord Simon of Wythenshawe (1879–1960), one-time chair of the BBC, former vice-president of the FPA and international family planning advocate, topped up the PR pot with an extra £500. Ruth Smith’s advice about the prestige publication notwithstanding, the FPA started to think beyond print (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956). The November 1955 silver jubilee The Royal Commission on Population gave the FPA impetus to pursue a course of PR. However, the sub-committee soon learned that attaching itself to non-events hoping they

might generate impact was wishful thinking, and wasted resources. Media acceptance was a necessity, but opportunities for exposure did not appear out of thin air. The way forward, then, was for to create opportunities. The FPA aimed to make birth control acceptable and to promote itself as the public face of respectable family planning. By September 1954 it was agreed that “the fundamental object [of the publicity scheme] was prestige and to create an informed opinion in influential circles” (Publicity Scheme, 1954–1957). To this end, the committee devised a plan to manufacture a publicity event “hung on the peg” of the FPA’s silver jubilee on 29 November 1955, attracting newspapers and television. A jubilee dinner would launch a yearlong “Jubilee Campaign”, culminating in the publication of The Human Sum. The campaign was timed for the winter season in the hope of gaining “a better press during the Christmas recess” (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956). The cherry on the cake was a public endorsement from the incumbent Minister of Health, Iain Macleod (1913–1970), who was to be the star guest. Macleod would proclaim the FPA’s good work, making good copy that newspapers, with any luck, would take up. Having failed to spark debate over the Royal Commission, or to get the Ministry of Health to commit to family planning, Macleod’s presence gave the FPA its first official stamp of governmental support. But although the success of the event has been attributed to Macleod’s “bravery”(Leathard, 1980), which is fair comment, success was also due to careful planning and the priming of press and television editors. A publicity plan drawn up that September was designed to attract attention from the mass media, which was thought to harbour a “conspiracy of silence” against family planning issues. The PR Sub-Committee resolved to “Approach the national press systematically to break new ground” (PR SubCommittee, 1950–1956). Margaret Pyke (1893–1966), legendary Chair of the FPA and also of the PR Sub-Committee, personally finessed Fleet Street newspaper editors into acquiescence (Bingham, 2009; PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956). By positioning the silver jubilee in media makers’ consciousness that October, Pyke secured exposure for the visit in November, with all of the attendant bells and whistles. This led to a flurry of local and national newspaper reporting from the Isle of Man Weekly Times to Nursery World (Macleod, Minister of Health. Visit to the FPA, 1955). Television would surely follow. Press clippings suggest that news stories were shaped by an FPA press release, which offered a precised history of the Association, examples of the wide range of services on offer, easily repeatable factoids and quotes from female infertility patients who were photographed bouncing children on their knees. “The crying of three babies disturbed the Minister’s speech. . .” read Evening Standard 29 November 1955, “. . .the mothers of the three crying babies were former patients of the association”. Press reporting was up beat, emphasizing the FPA’s role in allaying marital disharmony by allowing couples to produce exactly the number of children they wanted. “We should be careful to always present a positive case”, the sub-committee had agreed, “i.e. the accent should be on happy, healthy children of planned families, not on the unhappy results of lack of planning” (PR Sub-Committee, 1950– 1956), a strategy that transposed easily to all of the FPA’s publicity work. Headlines such as, “Family Planning for Men. Clinic in Demand” from the Daily Telegraph on 30 November 1955, also pointed to the broader remit of the FPA in order to universalize appeal, although in truth men’s services were subordinated to contraceptive sessions for women. The point, however, was to raise awareness and broaden appeal. The silver jubilee generated exactly the right type of print coverage, including a leader in the London Times, which Lord Simon called “epoch making” (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–195). It was: the silver jubilee is widely acknowledged as the FPA’s breakthrough moment, and historians have marked it as the point at which the Association became publicly acceptable (Hall, 2000, 2013; Kynaston, 2010). The printed press was clearly receptive to the story, but would it have been different if a professional PRO had approached them instead of Margaret Pyke? Perhaps it would have been frosty. At the time, media criticism of PR was a problem for practitioners,

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and journalists often tired of PROs offering gifts and hospitality in order to secure a mention (L’Etang, 2004), so the direct, grassroots approach of Pyke may have been refreshing. The question was, could print success translate to broadcast success? Television breakthrough Historians have looked to the silver jubilee as the FPA’s media breakthrough (Bingham, 2009; Hall, 2000, 2013; Kynaston, 2010; Leathard, 1980), but the televisual aspect of this coup has attracted scant attention. British PR history has also overlooked the importance of televisual mediatization of PR practice and the organisations it served (L’Etang, 2004). The FPA archive nonetheless tells us that the benefits of broadcast exposure were significant. In Britain, broadcast television began in 1932. The sale of television sets increased dramatically in the 1950s, especially after the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in June 1953. The second channel, ITV (which was also the first commercial television channel), began transmission on 22 September 1955, expanding overall broadcasting hours overall (Moss, 2004). This major event doubtless influenced the PR Sub-Committee, which convened to re-vamp their publicity plan at exactly this time, hardening their resolve to get television coverage just as more people were watching. As public appetite for TV (and competition between channels) increased, the FPA decided for themselves that the time was right for this type of exposure (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956). Margaret Pyke appeared twice on television for the silver jubilee, including on the BBC news program Highlight at 7.20 p.m. on the same day as the event (PR Sub-Committee, 1950– 1956). Pyke’s appearances were especially gratifying because the FPA, as part of a coalition with other social welfare organizations known as “The Family Relations Group”, had been trying to get onto television since 1947, post-war television services having resumed in 1946. Back then, the request was rejected, and an appeal was turned down without explanation (BBC, 1957–1968; Central Appeals Advisory Committee, 1945–1947). In December 1954, however, the FPA’s work was unexpectedly mentioned on the BBC afternoon show Family Affairs in reference to infertility, resulting in 56 enquiries regarding fertility and eight about birth control. They all mention the broadcast, which, so the sub-committee felt, demonstrated impact (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956; BBC, 1957–1968). In March 1955, Dr Winifred May de Kok (1893–1969), a well-known women’s health advocate, appeared in the BBC TV program About the Home, which also resulted in written enquiries wherein, “A number of childless wives have been put in touch with the F.P.A.” (BBC and FPA Policy, 1955). Seeing the effect of broadcast exposure first-hand and feeling a window of opportunity had opened, the PR Sub-Committee began badgering the producers of BBC Woman’s Hour [radio] as a gateway for broadcast exposure. Unable to afford professional PROs, the FPA deployed the PR Sub-Committee, contriving to infiltrate recordings of Any Questions [radio] posing as audience members, in the hope of getting family planning questions raised. Nothing fruitful came of these efforts, however (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956; BBC, 1957–1968). As Huxley had intimated back in the 1920s, having guests refer to the subject on live air was one thing, but the BBC remained cautious about actively commissioning talks on the subject. It was also seemingly unaware, as would later transpire, that the FPA and Marie Stopes were unaffiliated (BBC, 1957–1968). Individual producers tried to help the FPA, but it continued to hit difficulties despite having contacts such as Lord Simon. Producer Lorna Pegram could not raise interest. “We have been trying “up hill and down dale” to find a way round the BBC’s ban on treating this subject over the air, but I am afraid that I now have to tell you that it has all been unsuccessful” she wrote (BBC and FPA Policy, 1955). It was also pointed out to the FPA that the director of sound programming at the time was Roman Catholic and that this might be one reason for a general embargo (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956).

The FPA learned that the way to get its name out was to promote services and issues peripheral to birth control, through which its contraceptive work was inferred. This much was clear from the BBC’s willingness to discuss infertility, and population especially. At the time of planning the silver jubilee, the sub-committee resolved to investigate the right approach for devising “acceptable” material for television (PR Sub-Committee, 1950–1956). Writing to Mr Hole, Editor at the BBC News Service, Pyke invited cameras to attend on the basis of a programme of events pre-approved by the Ministry of Health. Not only did the BBC agree to bring their cameras, but they unexpectedly interviewed Pyke (BBC, 1957–1968). Pyke herself attributed this to a feature in the Observer newspaper on 27 November 1955, two days prior to the jubilee event, which printed a flattering photograph and an equally flattering description. “Mrs Pyke is a model of how to meet prejudice with clear-headed, quietly incisive argument and good-humoured tolerance”, the article read (Macleod Minister of Health. Visit to the FPA, 1955; BBC, 1957–1968). Clearly, whatever the BBC was going to get from Pyke, it would be more controlled and telegenic than the bizarre and outspoken Stopes, described recently by one journalist, with some justification, as “a turbo-Darwinist ranter” (Williams, 2011). Synchronicity on the part of Pyke and the sub-committee, combined with Pyke’s quietly confident demeanour (and the absence of pushy PROs) engendered crossmedia interest and cooperation at just the right moment, creating a feedback loop of television and print, all working to the FPA’s benefit. Central to the scheme was location, and the tone it set. Silver jubilee celebrations were held at the FPA’s flagship clinic in North Kensington, a deprived district of West London, which had recently been rebranded thanks to a grant from the Eugenics Society, although the FPA never especially drew attention to this controversial funding source (Whyte, 1954). North Kensington served as the benchmark for how the FPA wished to be seen, which is to say as a social interest group with a pro-natal slant, responding to the post-war cultural preoccupation with “family” (Kynaston, 2010). North Kensington’s focus had recently shifted from woman-centred services to the promotion of married life, it’s “Five Purposes” being marriage guidance, premarital health examinations, advice on birth control, infecundity [infertility] and eugenic prognosis (Constitution, 1952; Whyte, 1954). By holding the silver jubilee celebrations at this branch, the FPA signalled a progressive, forward-looking intent against a backdrop of the newly refurbished centre. Most importantly, the family focus camouflaged the topic of contraception in order to achieve the coveted mark of “acceptability” for mass media tastes. This “acceptability” was made official by the participation of the Minister of Health and the BBC. Response to Pyke’s TV appearance The TV appearance was unprecedented, and Pyke found herself flooded with letters of congratulation. “Fancy getting T.V. as well as the press” she replied to one well-wisher. “Really, we are feeling quite dizzy here. . .we are swimming hard to keep abreast of the flood.” In another she wrote, “It was certainly very a interesting time and we were all highly puffed up here”. Interesting indeed: this had been both a learning curve and a major coup for the FPA, who were now mediatized. “The B.B.C. certainly opened its gates in a big way and now that we have risen to a “Times” leader, I feel there are no heights we may not achieve” Pyke said. “We are galloping forward so fast that we can hardly keep up”. Pyke was not the only star, however, as Macleod’s speech was also considered “splendid” (BBC, 1957–1968). There is no recording of Highlights for historians to examine, but correspondence suggests that Pyke used the program to put the case of the FPA’s work into family limitation, as intended, using infertility as a gateway to the birth control issue. One letter from a viewer read, “I have just listened to you on T.V. Highlights and wish to write and thank you for the work you and your staff are doing. I have benefitted from your work and have three children 9.6.3 years old, and I am happy in the assurance that I am able to limit my family while living a normal life.

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I am sure your work holds the answer to many world problems” (BBC, 1957–1968). Such letters were evidence of the effect of the FPA’s work more generally, but also of positive reinforcement proffered by the broadcast. The fact of positive mass publicity for birth control, particularly on television, vindicated the organization’s aims, but also the choices made by users of the service. “I would like to congratulate you on your appearance on television this evening,” another viewer wrote. “As the mother of two young children I have been very grateful for the help I have received from my local Family Planning Clinic, and have often thought your good work deserved more publicity” (BBC, 1957–1968). Branch clinics sent telegrams from across the country, realizing that this was the PR breakthrough they had been waiting for. The BBC was also full of praise, tinged, perhaps, with some relief. “Your part of the programme was certainly the most successful”, Director of Talks Donald Baverstock (1924–1995) wrote to Pyke. “I was particularly pleased with your very clear and admirable treatment of a difficult subject. . .your appearance has provoked a considerable response from the public” (BBC, 1957–1968). After-effects Just as Pyke’s appearance in the Observer helped along her interview on television, so the broadcast itself led to the coveted spot on Woman’s Hour finally materializing the same day as the Times article, 1 December 1955 (BBC, 1957–1968). Vindicated, the FPA opened on-going discussions with the BBC, affirmed in the notion that “acceptability” was the key issue. For the BBC’s part, it could now confirm there was no embargo on the FPA, being as how they and Stopes were clearly not part of the same organization (BBC, 1957–1968). In respect of any controversy arising from the broadcast, Baverstock was not especially worried, noting that letters of complaint were minimal and concerned timing rather than subject matter, with parents worried about children watching. But as Highlight was broadcast just after the “toddler’s truce” hour of 6 to 7 p.m., where all TV transmission paused so that small children might be put to bed, such complaints had little sway. Objections from Catholics were received, but Baverstock (himself an Anglican), did not see any cause for concern in these, either. Indeed, such letters could not be held representative of all Catholics, some of whom held complex views on birth control and elected to practice it (Harris, 2015). Inside the BBC, the program was “. . .considered a success and an important contribution” by the Highlight team. “In all,” Baverstock wrote, “I suppose we had as many letters from viewers thanking us for venturing to put you on as critical ones” (BBC, 1957–1968; Moss, 2004). This was an excellent outcome for all concerned. By November 1956, the FPA was assured there would be “. . .no ban on reports of our activities, and that it was up to us to devise suitable ways of getting B.B.C. publicity” (PR SubCommittee, 1950–1956). Their successful experience equipped them for this task. In the years that followed, the FPA explored other ways to use moving images for direct lobbying, for example in the 1959 film Birthright, which was shown to 50 MPs at the House of Commons (Borge, 2019; FPA, 1960–1961). FPA PR policy aimed to inform the public about activities and services, to make its motivations known and to “enlist and retain the support and sympathy of the public for FPA activities.” But while film was useful, it dated quickly, used a “slow” medium and was expensive. National television coverage, on the other hand, had expanded to 95% in the 1950s. In this respect, television remained a far better (and lower cost) prospect than film and, following the jubilee, the FPA featured on at least one television or radio broadcast per year, gradually becoming the go-to media consultant for all matters to do with – and on the periphery of – British family planning. Conclusion As part of its advocacy remit, the FPA worked to attract the attention of broadcasters because, experience showed, even small mentions on TV yielded big responses from the

public. But attaining dedicated coverage was difficult, and the BBC’s unofficial ban on Marie Stopes impeded efforts. This matter was cleared up at the silver jubilee by Pyke’s measured delivery in combination with the substitution of less controversial subjects such as population and infertility. Scholars in the history of contraception have rightly signalled the jubilee as one of the FPA’s most significant achievements but have neglected the specific role of television, while PR historians have been unaware of the FPA’s planned public relations work and its significance for PR history. This paper argues that the case of the FPA silver jubilee TV appearance and prior efforts to win the attention of broadcasters offer an original approach to the consideration of PR and social change not simply by bringing in the categories of gender and mediatization (thereby diversifying the field), but by complicating these categories. This paper has pushed at what McKie and Xifra have identified as a key cluster area for PR history research, namely “nation-centric mindsets, archival assumptions, and the impact of changing media” (McKie and Xifra, 2014, p. 669), because its research objects – television broadcasts – only ever existed as live transmissions, as bandwidth lost to the past in the nationally specific archival context. McKie and Xifra suggest mediatization as a “wake-up call” for PR history because of the popularity of moving image consumption, as in the example of Ian Curtis’s 2002 documentary series, Century of the Self. In one way, this is a call for PR historians to consider the shape and reach of their research outputs, but the point about popularity surely stands as treatise for its impact in historical mediatization as well. In this sense, this paper supports McKie and Xifra’s recommendation for “. . .a nuanced and research-relevant consideration of changing archival practices, partly stimulated by electronic curation, and the interplay between history and changing archives and archivist practices” (p. 674). The FPA’s mediatization was the intended outcome of carefully considered advance planning using the nascent techniques of PR. It became mediatized by design, through a scheme targeted to improve awareness and reputational value via modern broadcast communication channels, first radio, then television. Print journalism, as part of the news cycle, confirmed acceptability, helping broadcasters to agree to tackle the subject. Lessons learned by the PR Sub-Committee were just as valuable as the exposure itself, if not more so: the bungled example of the Royal Commission on Population showed that publicity efforts were wasted if the wrong horse was backed. Following this, adoption of the techniques and principles of PR – such as having a particular reputational goal in mind and being attractive to media makers – enabled the FPA to refine its aims and target publicity in a systematic way, with measurable outcomes. Early television appearances were an unprecedented success, increasing awareness and validating existing services and service users: one might say that the FPA were not just advocating for planned families, then, but for the adoption of planned PR. Notes 1. BBC Genome available at: https://genome.ch.bbc.co.uk 2. National, state-sponsored family planning services would not be rolled out until the 1974 NHS reorganization, when the NHS began the gradual takeover of FPA clinics.

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Corresponding author Jessica Borge can be contacted at: [email protected]

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A cultural-economic examination of public relations measurement in the 1920s and its implications for contemporary practice William Anderson Elon University, Elon, North Carolina, USA Abstract

PR measurement in the 1920s

669 Received 25 November 2019 Revised 13 April 2020 5 July 2020 6 July 2020 Accepted 6 July 2020

Purpose – What gets measured gets done” goes the cliche. Therefore, it is imperative for corporate communicators to understand the measurement of persuasive communication, starting with its antecedents. This paper will highlight the link between audience awareness/behavior and persuasive communication through an examination of how 1920s practitioners studied the effect their communications materials (specifically film and print brochures) had on key audiences. Design/methodology/approach – The author used the cultural-economic model (CEM) of public relations (PR) as a framework to examine the various socio-cultural organizational factors that affected the production and the consumption of communication materials and messages. Findings – The intent and techniques of PR measurement have not changed much in 100 years. A contemporary practitioner might conduct a study of communications materials in a similar manner as the 1920s social hygienists, and this study adds the concept of human agency to the discussion of PR measurement. This is not to engage in historical presentism and judge past practitioners on current standards. Instead, it is a call for contemporary practitioners to take a deeper look at the moment of consumption and all the variables that go into meaning making. Originality/value – Most of the field’s historical case studies focus on the production of communication messages and materials, while this paper examines those facets as well as audience consumption. Implications for contemporary practitioners are discussed. Keywords Case study, Measurement, Health communication Paper type Research paper .

Introduction The measurement of public relations (PR) activities has long been a concern for the field. Martinelli (2014) noted, “[W]hat is not readily understood is what, how, and why [communications] activities ultimately tip the scales toward achieving” desired outcomes (p. 208). This study offers perspective on that issue through the examination of how United States Public Health Service (USPHS) officials and members of the American Social Hygiene Association (ASHA) measured their communication materials in the early 1920s. These reformers called themselves social hygienists–social as a euphemism for sex and hygiene as an ideology that mixed health and morality–and worked to reduce the infection rates of venereal diseases (VD) such as syphilis and gonorrhea. Studying how the social hygienists crafted messages and measured audience reaction to their missives provides insights into past PR practice and offers implications for contemporary practitioners. This paper answers Watson’s (2012) call for “width” on the history of PR measurement, finding that the social hygienists used survey methodology similar to their peers in social reform, academe and business to examine audience reaction to communications materials. Those researchers found that the social hygiene communication materials raised awareness of organizational messages but failed to change behaviors, a scenario that contemporary practitioners might face as well. This paper employed a cultural-economic perspective to provide a heuristic framework by which to examine a historical case study. That analysis showed how the socio-cultural environment had an influence on message production and highlighted the importance of

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human agency when measuring PR activity. That insight suggests the need for studies that examine the various elements involved in meaning making and not just behavioral cause and effect. The cultural-economic model Curtin and Gaither (2007) argued that PR practitioners attempt to form networks between those who produce messages (producers) and those who consume those messages (consumers) to create shared identities. Their perspective – titled the cultural-economic model (CEM) of PR–was based on the circuit of culture, which suggested that studying a cultural text required an examination of five moments: its consumption, identity, regulation, representation and production. Gaither and Al-Kandari (2013) described these moments as follows: (1) Regulation (the formal constraints such as laws, regulations and technological infrastructure, as well as informal controls such as cultural norms), (2) Production (the work of PR practitioners in which they construct discourses to achieve organizational objectives), (3) Representation (the meaning embedded in the texts of a PR campaign), (4) Consumption (how audiences make sense of campaign materials) and (5) Identity (the creation of image(s) for select audience(s)). du Gay et al. (1997) noted that “taken together [these 5 moments] complete a sort of circuit . . . through which any analysis of a cultural text . . . must pass if it is to be adequately studied” (p. 3). The five moments can be examined individually, but the circuit of culture stresses the interconnectedness of the moments where meaning is questioned, debated and negotiated (Curtin and Gaither, 2005, p. 98; see Figure 1). Previous scholars have shown that studying each moment as well as the connections between them offers several vantage points by which to examine PR efforts. PR scholars have used the CEM to analyze the influence of religion on corporate interests (Gaither and AlKandari, 2013); international PR (Gaither and Curtin, 2007; Al-Kandari and Gaither, 2011);

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Figure 1. The circuit of culture (from du Gay et al., 1997)

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racial identities (Curtin, 2011); internal activism (Curtin et al., 2015); and lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender activism (Ciszek, 2017). Both Curtin (2011) and Anderson (2019) used the CEM to examine separate historical case studies, demonstrating not only the effectiveness of the model to guide the exploration of past practice but also showing that meaning making as a desired role of PR was not solely a contemporary phenomenon. Even those studies, though, provide little insight into the moment of consumption, something endemic to PR history literature. Literature review This paper adds to the limited research on the history of PR measurement. Many scholars have studied and proposed PR measurement philosophies and techniques, including The Coalition for Public Relations Research Standards, which was formed in 2012 to create a platform of standards for research and measurement, such as traditional media measurement, digital and social media measurement, return on investment and the communications lifecycle (awareness, knowledge, interest and relevance, relationship, intent: preference, intent to take a specific action and advocacy) (Hubbell, 2013). But, Watson (2012) noted that few have studied the history of PR evaluation. In one example, Lamme and Russell (2010) examined the antecedents of PR before the twentieth century, including PR measurement, arguing that as early as the eighteenth century, political, religious, corporate and social reform leaders monitored newspaper coverage of their respective organizations. By the early twentieth century, elements of social science research were introduced into PR measurement. First World War, and Walter Lippmann (1922), demonstrated the importance of public opinion. In response, some PR practitioners adopted opinion research to benchmark consumer attitudes. Watson (2012) noted that Edward Bernays “presented public relations as an applied social science to be planned through opinion research and precisely evaluated. Ironically, there is very little discussion of measurement and evaluation of campaign effectiveness in Bernays’ books and papers” (p. 391). As Bernays talked about opinion research, Arthur W. Page, head of PR at AT&T, has generally been credited with implementing it. Griese (2001) found that AT&T conducted its first customer poll in 1926 study in Detroit (p. 122). As the next section shows, however, social reformers, academicians and marketers were conducting surveys years before Page. Surveys at the time Three strands of research had an impact on the social hygienists’ use of surveys: the social survey movement, academic surveys and marketing research. The social survey movement started in England and derived from a “growing awareness of the negative consequences of industrialisation and urbanisation, as well as the Enlightenment desire to study society “scientifically”” (Ayrton, 2017, p. 4). A prime example of the movement was Charles Booth’s study on the “Life and Labour of the People of London” (1886–1903), in which he interviewed London inhabitants and learned that 30% of people in the city lived in poverty (Linsley and Linsley, 1993). As in England, social reform concerns motivated the first social surveys in the United States (Bulmer et al., 1991, p. 27). In 1899, W. E. B. Du Bois surveyed African Americans in Philadelphia to identify social problems in the black community (Ayrton, 2017, p. 12). In 1907–1908, the Russell Sage Foundation funded a seventy-person investigation into how blue-collar immigrant workers in Pittsburgh were treated (Ayrton, 2017, p. 12). Studies such as those helped popularize surveys. Bulmer, Bales and Sklar (1991) found evidence of 2,775 surveys in the United States by 1927 (p. 39). In addition, after 1922, Survey magazine was published in two parts, the Survey Mid-Monthly, aimed at social workers and

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the Survey Graphics, an illustrated magazine aiming to popularize the findings of social inquiry to a wide audience (Bulmer, 1996, p. 21). The surveys used by reformers for community betterment were closer to social reform and political action than they were to academic studies, according to University of Chicago sociologist Robert Park (Bulmer, 1996, p. 24). In contrast, Bulmer (1996) noted that academic surveys such as those by Park focused upon a scientific problem (p. 26). Survey research conducted by social reformers and by academicians traveled down distinct, yet parallel roads. Similar to the surveys by social reformers and academicians, business leaders began commissioning consumer research to decipher the best way to sell their wares in an increasingly complex market (Ward, 2009). As early as 1895, Harlow Gale of the University of Minnesota mailed questionnaires to consumers to learn their opinions on advertising (Coolsen, 1947, 80–86.). Advertising agency J. Walter Thompson established a research department in 1915 (Kreshel, 1989, pp. 212–49), and by 1920 the consumer goods giant Lever had a research department that used consumer surveys (Schwarzkopf, 2009, p.10). In terms of methodology, Rossi et al. (1983) found, “Consumer market research began after First World War following a psychological laboratory model, which developed techniques of questioning people about preferences by means of carefully and consistently administered standardized questions” (p. 3). Often, market researchers in the 1920s used a convenience sample with the assumption that experiences were universal across all subjects, so one assemblage of subjects was as valid and generalizable as any other group. Researchers in that time period found survey respondents from in-store visitors, social clubs or newspaper advertisements (Converse, 1987, p. 6). The social hygienists seemed to pull something from all three strands of opinion research. The popularity of surveys used by social reformers and the desire to use such surveys to correct perceived social ills might have led social hygienists to the conclusion that they also needed to conduct surveys, while the methodology of the social hygienists’ measurement seemed to be inspired more by their contemporaries in academe and business. The social hygienists’ communication efforts took many forms, but the focus of this study is their literature and film. Method Curtin (2011) wrote the CEM “drives discourse analysis as the method” (p. 375) and noted that discourse analysis entails an examination of a diversity of texts to ascertain the historical context that informs particular discourses (Hall, 1997). The discourses in selected texts generate pieces of knowledge, establishing what can be understood about a topic. In this case, those discourses were found in the available social hygiene materials. Nine brochures were part of opinion research commissioned by social hygienists (Achilles, 1923a,b), and eight of those brochures were obtained from the Social Welfare Archives at the University of Minnesota Library, the largest repository for social hygiene materials. One of the studied brochure – titled For Girls – was not contained in this archive, so the descriptions of that piece were solely those of the 1920s researcher (Achilles, 1923a,b). In the same archive, the author found two reports regarding the opinion research on the brochures – the first appeared in the Journal of Social Hygiene (an official ASHA publication) (Achilles, 1923a) and the second was in a longer version of the research results that ASHA published as a pamphlet (Achilles, 1923b). In addition, the archive contained a copy of a pamphlet that described the film Fit to Win and detailed a survey of people who watched that film that was commissioned by social hygienists (Lashley and Watson, 1921). The author used discourse analysis as a guide for reviewing the brochures and the description of the film, the discursive practices (how the messages were communicated to consumers) and the social environment (the philosophies that informed the campaigns). In

particular, the analysis was directed by a sequence of questions, including: How was the text constructed? What discourses were promoted? What identities were suggested? This method mirrored Curtin’s (2011) analysis of a company’s promotional materials, another historical case study. That process provided insights into how the moments of the circuit of culture interacted. The analysis continued by exploring the materials related to measurement with a goal of answering the questions: How did social hygienists in the 1920s evaluate their communication efforts? and What insights did they glean from the research results? The next sections will review each moment in the circuit of culture, providing space to answer all of the aforementioned questions. Regulation Regulation is composed of both formal controls, such as institutionalized educational systems and regulatory bodies, as well as informal factors such as cultural norms and values (Gaither and Al-Kandari, 2013). Gaither and Curtin (2008) argued that this moment presented an ideal starting point into the circuit of culture because it offered an understanding of the environment in which a communication initiative occurred. In this case, the socio-culturalpolitical environment informed the social hygienists’ anti-VD communication campaign. During the early twentieth century, the United States of America underwent an unparalleled influx of immigrants, with more than 15 million people coming to the United States between 1900 and 1915–approximately the same number as the previous 40 years combined (Gibson and Jung, 2006). What really concerned many conservative Americans, though, was not the number of immigrants but their racial makeup. More than 80% of new arrivals during the Progressive era came from non-English speaking countries in Southern and Eastern Europe (Kuznets, 1971, pp. 17–24), and those immigrants tended to congregate in urban areas and develop close-knit communities (Gibson and Jung, 2006). Eugenics A group of conservative Americans connected the influx of immigrants to urban problems ranging from crime to poverty to increased VD rates (Laughlin, 1913; Ross, 1901). That group, grounding their reasoning on a philosophy called eugenics, maintained that those with darker skins lacked self-control to sustain a viable societal structure (see, e.g. Engs, 2005). Some eugenicists argued that a proper education of the immigrants, while not curing all of America’s societal wrongs, could help nurture what they considered suitable conduct (Smith, 1997). Those reformers saw the immigrant as an empty container that could be filled with American values (Higham, 1955; Korelitz, 1995). That Americanization effort included training immigrants how to become more like the eugenicists, in terms of language, morals and even daily hygiene (Skowronek et al., 2016). Concurrently, eugenicists worried that changing gender roles had fed the decay of American values. In their view, white middle-class American women had caused the waning white birth rate by entering the paid work force, postponing marriage and using birth control (Jensen, 2010). To return to the idealized Americana they desired, many eugenicists wanted women to resume traditional roles as wives and mothers, as well as being mindful of choosing an “appropriate” mate (McClymer, 1991, p. 4). Meanwhile, ideal white males were portrayed as self-controlled, chivalrous and sympathetic to eugenic ideology (Jensen, 2010, p. 129). Social hygienists wanted both genders to act like their idealized version of a white, middleclass American who married a partner of the opposite sex and started a family (Meyerowitz, 1991). ASHA General Director Dr. William Snow (1916) argued that the social hygiene movement included the “promotion of all those conditions of living, environment, and personal conduct which will best protect the family as an institution and secure a rational sex life for the individuals of each generation” (p. 39). Eugenics informed and was represented in the social hygiene communications materials created in that time period.

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Cultural norms captured in the moment of regulation affect every other moment in the circuit of culture. Value orientations help practitioners understand audiences and their consumption of messages, which should affect the moments of representation and production. This study demonstrated the import of eugenics for the producers of social hygiene materials, which affected how they chose to represent those missives to different message consumers. Representation Curtin and Gaither (2007) defined the moment of representation as the meaning implanted in a particular text, in this case the social hygiene brochures and film. Those materials had four discrete but often connected discourses: (1) Self-control, (2) How to treat women (for boys)/how to be a woman (for girls), (3) Dangers of premarital sex and VD and (4) Science/general health. Each of these discourses is expounded upon below. Self-control Social hygienists maintained that self-control was needed to regulate base passions such as sexual lust and that VD was a painful consequence of losing control (Jensen, 2010; Lord, 2010). Having the strength to overcome temptation, then, was seen as the highest honor. That strength of will was good not only for one’s self, the reformers contended, but also for society as a whole. ASHA’s honorary president Charles Eliot (1916) wrote, “For us the interests of the mass override the interests of the individual, particularly when the alleged interests of the individual are corrupting and degrading” (p. 20). Self-control, the reformers contended, could correct all the evils perpetuated by industrialization, capitalization and urbanization (Weber, 1970). To help others achieve that level of self-control the ASHA focused on what one member called “the education of the will, moral prophylaxis’” (Keyes, 1916, p. 1). Specifically, they promoted a single standard of abstinence for both men and women, which would limit premarital and extra-marital sex and thus reduce venereal infections (Shah, 2015). For instance, one brochure writer told readers that the self-control exhibited by continence would be: fair to women (if you expect her to be pure you should be as well), the most responsible thing a future parent could do (to avoid your child carrying your disease) and good for society (what was good for the home was good for society) (Exner, 1916). How to treat women/how to be women An essential American social value, social hygienists argued, was the family, comprised of a husband, a wife and children (McGerr, 2003). Many of the campaign materials geared toward boys discussed how to be a good potential marriage partner, including treating women with respect (e.g. “treat women as you want other men to treat your sister”) and being as pure as a boy should want his future wife to be (USPHS, 1919a). Girls, on the other hand, were told how to become women, including how to build a home. One brochure included headlines such as “Home-making as an art,” “The science of homemaking,” and “For a happy married life” (USPHS, 1922, p. 3). Dangers of premarital sex and VD Just in case the being chaste made one more suitable for marriage appeal failed, the campaign also relied on fear appeals to show how sexual deviance would be punished. Campaign

materials warned about either loose women or the dangers of premarital sex (e.g. showing a boy whose face had been deformed by syphilis) (USPHS, 1919a). The researchers studying a social hygiene film found: “The chief emotions aroused immediately by the film are horror at the pictured effects of venereal diseases and fear of infection” (Lashley and Watson, 1921, p. 199). In their fear appeal, the writers of one brochure wanted readers to think about the generational impact of sex: “By one false step he [who has illicit sex] may infect the stock, topple over the hopes of fathers and mothers reaching back for thousands of years – generations, patiently building up sound bodies and minds – and blight the lives of distinct individuals of generations to come” (USHS, 1919b, p. 2). Science/general health In addition to the fear appeal, campaign materials included examples of hygiene instructions (e.g. how to bathe and how much water to drink) (USPHS, 1919a). Boys were to be physically and morally fit and seek like-minded girls to produce healthy children. That message could be trusted, the social hygienists implied, because the all-knowing scientist in a lab coat delivered it. Campaign materials geared toward girls were also grounded in the science of the 1920s, discussing the need for personal hygiene (“Hygiene leads to beauty–beauty that will last”), diet (“Avoid constipation by eating right foods”) and work (“work that healthy girls do”) (USPHS, 1922a, pp. 1–2). Campaign materials taught readers that reproduction was the natural and happy consequence of marriage. Unlike animals, though, humans could restrain sexual urges. If they failed to do so, then they should worry about VD and its unhappy consequences. The discourse sought to reaffirm the goodness of American values and the dangers of breaking from these tenets, and implicit in this discourse was support for a preferred way of thinking and behaving. Mass communication both produces and reflects social relations and practices, which can be reviewed not only in the moment of representation but in the articulations between representation, regulation and consumption. Social hygienists tried to create and shape a discourse that lent authority to a eugenics-based philosophy on what it meant to be an American. Embedded in that discourse was the support for a preferred manner of thinking and behaving which helped operationalize Americanism for its citizens.

Production: print brochures All of the elements contained in the moment of regulation had an effect on how the social hygienists created their communication materials. In the CEM framework, production includes the ideological – as well as the technological and the logistical – factors that inform the construction of cultural texts such as brochures and films (Curtin and Gaither, 2005). Through that process, those engaged in PR produce both tangible and symbolic texts that strive to insert their viewpoint into the public discourse. The producers of the social hygiene communication materials can be linked to eugenics. The US surgeon general and head of USPHS from 1920 to 1936 – Dr. Hugh S. Cumming – was a council member of the American Eugenics Society and hired many eugenicists to work for the government agency (Lombardo and Dorr, 2006), one of whom was Claude C. Pierce. Pierce helped develop many of the social hygiene brochures of the 1920s and was affiliated with the Progressive thoughts of eugenics and Americanization. In 1915, Pierce spoke at an event hosted by the Race Betterment Foundation (Lord, 2003, pp. 131–132). The USPHS only had 700 officers, so they worked with non-profit groups such as the ASHA and the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) to distribute social hygiene messages and materials across the nation. Executives with those non-governmental

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Figure 2. This page from the Keeping Fit brochure provided an example of how great American men exhibited self-control.

associations were also associated with eugenics and Americanization. YMCA executive J.A. Van Dis Van Dis wrote multiple social hygiene brochures and was responsible for the organization’s Americanization programs (Lord, 2003, pp. 131–132). William F. Snow, head of the ASHA, was the vice president of the American Eugenics Society (Pivar, 1973, p. 131), and former ASHA president (and honorary president during the 1920s) Charles Eliot was prominently linked with eugenics (Donovan, 2006). Those that created and circulated the materials affected the meaning embedded in the campaign materials, in particular the nine brochures (five for males and four for females) that were evaluated in 1923. The five brochures designed for males included: A Square Deal, Friend or Enemy, Health for Men, Keeping Fit and Manpower. Each of these brochures, with one exception (Keeping Fit), were mostly copy with little to no visuals. ASHA member and YMCA executive Max Exner (1919) wrote A Square Deal, a 3¾X5½ inch brochure of approximately 5,275 words. That brochure encouraged soldiers to remember the existing women in their lives – such as mothers and girlfriends – as an incentive to remain chaste as they traveled overseas. Exner (1916) also wrote Friend or Enemy?, a 3½X6 inch brochure of approximately 6,100 words. The ASHA distributed it to men in the army and navy during First World War and after the war revised it for civilian use. That brochure proposed that the ideal for the young man outside of marriage was a sexually continent life where he mastered his impulses and refrained from all forms of sexual indulgence. ASHA (1920) members wrote Health for Men, a 3¾X7½ inch brochure of approximately 2,500 words, to debunk the myth that men must use their virility or else it would wither. Keeping Fit, a 5¼X9 inch 12-page brochure, was initially created by USPHS workers (1919a) and then was updated by ASHA members. Each page of the brochure contained two to four images that showed how self-control was needed in sports (such as track and field and football), in leadership roles (as represented by Abraham Lincoln, Roosevelt and Robert E. Lee) and in important professions (such as aviator, train engineer and soldier) (see Figure 2). That self-control, the brochure producers explained, could also be applied to sexual behavior. USPHS (1919b) officials prepared Manpower, a 4½X6 inch

brochure of approximately 4,500 words, to explain how a man could avoid VD by living a healthy (i.e., abstinent until marriage) life. The four brochures designed for females included: Healthy Happy Womanhood, For Girls, Sex in Life and The Girl’s Part. As with the literature created for males, these brochures were mostly copy with little to no visuals. USPHS (1920) employees wrote Healthy Happy Womanhood, a 4½X6 inch brochure of approximately 3,450 words, which included sections on self-control, health information about the body and VD. The Girl’s Part, a 3¾X6 inch brochure of approximately 3,900 words written by ASHA member Dr. Mabel S. Ulrich (1920), was written in a conversational style, reproducing a talk that the author had with a young girl. Ulrich (1920) argued that controlled and directed sex impulses would result in marriage, the building of a home and a family and the consecration of love; uncontrolled and misused impulses would bring disastrous results such as VD. In Sex in Life, an ASHA-published 3¼X6 inch brochure of approximately 4,250 words, Dr. and Mrs. Donald Armstrong (1916) argued that love was greater than instinct. They reasoned that although one might want to try the “sacred act” of sex, the “pure” girl would have the self-control to overcome that desire (Armstrong and Armstrong, 1916, p. 10). Achilles (1923b) noted that For Girls – a 3X5 inch brochure issued in cooperation between the USPHS and the ASHA – was created to acquaint young women with the dangers and nature of venereal diseases (p. 19). Production/consumption: print brochures In the CEM, meaning is derived from how audiences decode the representations in communication materials, which means that the production process is incomplete until the prepared texts are consumed. That makes consumption and production equal partners in the creation and the negotiation of meaning (Curtin and Gaither, 2005). To understand how audiences were consuming social hygiene messages, professors and physicians from the ASHA and the US Interdepartmental Social Hygiene Board formed the Committee on Evaluation of the Social Hygiene Literature. In 1923, the committee hired Dr. Paul Achilles to survey how boys and girls consumed health information and moral concepts in nine social hygiene brochures (Achilles, 1923a,b). The participants in Achilles’ study involved 839 men and women from New York and Baltimore area YMCAs, YWCAs and American Legion posts, as well as college students at Columbia University and College of the City of New York. The study also included 1,118 boys and girls from high schools in New York City and Baltimore. Each study participant was mailed the aforementioned nine social hygiene brochures to read and then asked to complete a questionnaire a few days later at a group meeting. For instance, boys from a New York YMCA received the brochures via mail, and then at their next meeting at the YMCA they completed the questionnaire. None of the participants knew a questionnaire would follow the receipt of the publications, so they were, Achilles (1923b) wrote, “free to throw it away, read it, or do anything he [or she] chose with it” (p. 6). Achilles (1923b) ranked the brochures for males based on the percentage of readers who responded they had read all of it: Keeping Fit (85% of respondents said they read it all, n 5 1,007), Manpower (74%), Health For Men (73%), Friend or Enemy? (68%) and A Square Deal (67%) (p. 24). Recall is one of the most fundamental measures for PR with the most basic unit of analysis being the recollection of the concept being tested (Michaelson and Stacks, 2011). In this case, the researchers found that male respondents had a high recall for the social hygiene brochures. The researchers also asked what knowledge the respondents gained from the brochures. Less than one-quarter of the respondents said the materials gave them new information regarding continence (24% of respondents), control of sexual impulses (17%), gonorrhea (16%) and syphilis (13%) (Achilles, 1923b, p. 52). With that new information a small percentage of respondents said they had their opinions changed on continence (18% of

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respondents), control of sex impulse (10%), gonorrhea (5%) and syphilis (5%) (Achilles, 1923b, p. 53). The results of Achilles’ (1923a,b) study indicated that the social hygienists might have needed to provide their brochures to males at a younger age. Achilles (1923b) noted that giving the literature to those with “superior social and educational advantages [i.e., most of the high school and college male respondents] is generally superfluous” because those respondents felt they already knew what the materials had to say about sexual matters (p. 54). ASHA members had often argued that social hygiene education needed to be taught during “grammar grades” (“Letters of May 12,” 1914) because between “9 and 10 is the average age at which boys get their permanent sex ideas” (ASHA, 1921, p. 3). Yet fear of offending conservative groups prevented social hygienists from distributing their materials to a younger audience, and social hygienists never overcame public resistance to offering sex education in schools (Brandt, 1985; Lord, 2010). Content producers can motivate an audience to take an action by inspiring interest in a topic and showing the relevance of said issue (Michaelson and Stacks, 2011), so Achilles and his team asked the respondents how much worry the brochures relieved and how helpful the materials were. Those measures gauged interest in the topic as well as how relevant the audience perceived the literature was. Among the males who reviewed the brochures, few said the materials relieved them of any worry or anxiety regarding continence (10% of respondents), control of sexual impulses (4%), gonorrhea (