debblog2015: Recruiting Children: Mickey Mouse, Popeye, and a boy named Quicksilver

Late last fall, I stumbled across what I think was an ISIS recruiting tool: an online game that popped up in the middle of the night in that little upper corner block of games that one plays occasionally or might be enticed to play. Since the ‘button’ for the game was in Arabic (which I don’t speak), and since it only appeared at, say, three in the morning, I was suspicious. I swiped the game logo and an interior shot, posted it on my Facebook page, and asked friends what they thought.

One friend had an Arabic-speaking aunt who gave a rough translation: the ‘game’ was called something like ‘Attack the Infidels’ and it involved virtual jihad. The tone of the chat accompanying the game was militant braggadocio not inconsistent with a player base of twelve-year-old males. Hmm. Sounded like a recruiting portal to me.

Screen swipes from what appears to be an ISIS-recruiting on-line game.

Like a good see-something-say-something citizen, I hunted down the CIA’s report-terrorist-suspicions site. Unfortunately, that site didn’t work; after a few tries, I gave up. Since the dead-of-night popups for this ‘game’ did not resurface (after about a week from my first sighting), I presume Western anti-terrorist cyberpolice disabled it, or it was abandoned by its devisers after it had served its purpose, or because it had been ‘discovered’ and was no longer useful. Maybe it was even a U.S.-created sting operation.

My insomniac web browsing did not make the world safe for democracy. It did, however, make me think about how popular media has been used for a century to recruit/bend children to a political cause.

Evil Mickey Mouse

Mickey leads an invading squadron of vulture-bats.

The earliest non-print media example of children-centric propaganda I could find: Komatsuzawa Hajime’s 1934 animation "Toybox Series #3: Picture Book 1936,″ known in the West as ‘Evil Mickey Mouse.’ There’s a link to this cartoon at the end of this blog, as there is to other kiddie propaganda pieces to which I refer. Watch it – it’s fascinating. Its primary purposes seem to be to get children on board with Japan’s militarism (at that time, concentrated in East Asia) and to prepare them for what, in 1934, was seen as an imminent United States attack on Japan (which is why the animation is set in 1936, when a Naval peace treaty was due to expire). Its secondary purpose was to counteract what a lot of Japanese political thinkers believed to be the dangerous embrace of Western culture.

Happy Islanders: a Japanese girl and her anthropomorphic dancing companions before Evil Mickey arrives. It’s odd, I think, that the imperiled maiden is drawn as a Westernized Shirley Temple moppet rather than as a traditionally garbed young lady. Are her sartorial choices factors in her being targeted for attack?

Western culture is signified by diabolically bellicose Mickeys, riding Mickey-faced vulture-bats and supported by snake and crocodile brigades, who attack a happy, peaceful, innocent island. Characters from Japanese folktales – notably Momotaro, the samurai peach boy, but also Issun Bochi (‘Little One Inch,’ a tiny-but-mighty, Jack-and-the-Beanstalk type figure), the Tanuki (the shape-shifting dog-raccoon-fox who here transforms into a roly-poly tank), and many others – vanquish Evil Mickey. Using a magic box from another Japanese folk tale (Urashima Taro), Mickey is turned into a disintegrating skeleton, and the happy island reverts to martial-anthem-singing cherry blossoms and joyous dances performed by children and their cute animal companions.

Momotaro combats Evil Mickey, a (not totally visible here) samurai sword against what seems to be a lethally studded baseball bat.

The cartoon’s production values are not great (which may be in part due to the condition of the surviving film), but its inventive animation reminds one of Looney Tunes slapstick surrealism. The alternative and somewhat menacing universe co-inhabited by (a very few) humans and (a lot of) folkloric characters anticipates Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away (2001).

The message, or messages? Japanese culture can withstand seductions and ultimately attacks by the West (particularly the United States). Unlike ISIS’s current propaganda efforts, ‘Evil Mickey’ does not try to recruit children globally to the Japanese cause, as Japanese children were, duh, already Japanese in a homogeneous society. The 1934 cartoon, however, grooms children for a coming ‘clash of civilizations,’ a time when current twelve-year-olds would be of age to join what was even then was seen as an inevitable war. Which is what I suspect ISIS is doing in its child-centered propaganda efforts.

Momotaro leads his troops in his own feature-length cartoon.

‘Evil Mickey’ was not the end of Japanese propaganda cartoons starring folkloric characters. During the war proper, Momotaro got his own animated vehicles; Momotaro’s Divine Sea Warriors (shot in 1944, released in 1945) survives (an earlier Momotaro cartoon does not). Japan’s first full-length animated feature, this film is neither cute nor particularly inventive, perhaps because it was ordered by the Japanese Naval Ministry and paid boring attention to details of ships and weapons. More important, everyone, including director Mitsuyo Seo, must have known the tide of war had turned. Thus the main narrative – the Japanese capture of the Celebes islands from the British – seems inconsequential, despite the final, somewhat wistful scenes of children play-invading the United States.

The cuddly Fuku-chan also served on submarines; this half-hour short begins with a Japanese mariner scrubbing off his ‘black-face.’

Other WWII propaganda cartoons supported by the Japanese Naval Ministry showed similar preoccupation with military gadgetry, which is not animation’s best use. An example would be the Fuku-chan cartoons, also commissioned by the Naval Ministry and based on Ryuichi Yokoyama’s popular manga character, in which the little boy hero manages bombs and submarines.

I doubt these later Japanese propaganda cartoons were aimed at children in the way that ‘Evil Mickey’ was. I presume they were shown in theatres along with newsreels before feature presentations and thus were primarily directed toward adults . . . rather like the 1940s cartoon counter-attack launched by the United States – and unlike the digital media ISIS propaganda efforts that continue to target children and teenagers.

Xenophobic Avenger Popeye

Popeye’s blunt appeal left no room for nuance. Although this ad is directed toward people with money (i.e., adults), most Popeye propaganda was directed toward children.

Tons of patriotism-building World-War-II-era cartoons were produced by American animation studios. Because the United States did not have a religio-politico-mythic inheritance like Japan’s (or that Nazi Germany tried to fabricate), its propaganda cartoons relied on well-known popular culture characters, specifically those from syndicated comics, comic books, and earlier cartoon features. Although these characters’ adventures appealed to children, they were not marketed directly to children, except perhaps in the case of comic books. The whole family read the ‘funny papers,’ and cartoons prefaced showings of movies attended by multi-generational audiences.

In the early 1940s, U.S. studios producing the most overtly propagandistic cartoons were Fleisher/Famous (Popeye), Looney Tunes/Merrie Melodies (Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny, and friends), and Disney. Although Disney’s efforts were mainly commissioned for educational and training war films, the studio did enlist Donald Duck to carry the cartoon battle flag.

Popeye is momentarily diverted by a booby-trapped bouquet offered by back-stabbingly obsequious Japanese, a reference to the sneak attack on Pearl Harbor.

Unlike Daffy or Donald Duck, Popeye had a quasi-military naval background and thus was a natural wartime cartoon hero. Many of the WWII-era Popeye animations have subsequently been ‘banned’ – meaning that they aren’t shown unedited, or at all, on television. The reason is what today is seen as their overt racist xenophobia (particularly when Popeye’s opponents were the Japanese). Not only are the titles (“You’re a Sap, Mr. Jap,” “Scrap the Japs”) Donald Trump-worthily offensive; so are buck-toothed, squinty-eyed caricatures of the Japanese enemy. In all of them, an outmanned and out-equipped Popeye (inhabiting various military roles) uses American ingenuity, a bit of exceptionalist luck, and spinach to recreate the plucky little guy vs. the big meanie ur-narrative also accessed by Japanese cartoons.

A dangerous ‘orphan’ from the Popeye cartoon, “Seein’ Red, White, and Blue.”

The oddest of these cartoons is “Seein’ Red, White, and Blue” (1943), in which Popeye’s usual nemesis, Bluto, ends up fighting alongside the roided-out sailor-man against an orphanage inhabited by Hirohito/Tojoesque homicidal babies. Somehow, their efforts end up smacking Hitler in the puss.

Of all the U.S. propaganda cartoons, the Popeye shorts were most directly aimed at children. They lack the subtlety, wit, and allusiveness marking Looney Tunes/Merrie Melodies propaganda efforts. Their superior scripts and animation (and, I suspect, distribution) suggest that the principal audience was adults rather than children. That the psychopathic Daffy Duck was often the hero may indicate an awareness of the madness of military conflict, or it may be a convenience based on the ‘personalities’ of the Looney Tunes characters. Bugs Bunny was a calculating reactionary; Elmer Fudd a fascist bumbler; Daffy a loose cannon and thus the best spokescartoon for crying havoc and unleashing the gods of war.

Behind enemy lines, Daffy sows confusion ‘translating’ Axis communications: a still from “Daffy the Commando” (1943).

Daffy unleashes destruction in “Plane Daffy,”(1944) by electrocuting a voluptuous Nazi spy and causing Nazi leaders to shoot themselves in the head.

The Daffy cartoons’ absurdist wit suggests that their creators had in mind at least three intended audiences: children who enjoyed the slapstick comedy; adults who enjoyed a patriotic slapstick entertainment; adults who ‘got’ the sardonic, even nihilistic message even while rooting for ‘our’ side to prevail. When Bugs Bunny takes the star turn, he outsmarts the enemy even more cunningly than does Daffy.

In “Herr meets Hare” (1945), trickster Bugs transforms himself into a variety of German icons, including Hitler and Brunhilde, in order to trap Goering. [top]. The wascally wabbit had used the same maneuver in the 1944 cartoon, “Bugs Bunny Nips the Nips.” [bottom]

Sometimes Looney Tunes abandon their animated stars altogether, creating clever satiric cartoons for an adult audience to enjoy. “Tokio Jokio” (1943) punctures a host of Japanese propaganda claims, employing familiar ethnic stereotypes (buck teeth, verbal substitutions of ‘r’ for ‘l’) for added ‘humor.’ “The Ducktators” (1942) is perhaps the best example of a sophisticated, Orwellian Looney Tunes WWII cartoon: it’s funny, but also seriously cautionary, warning about appeasement and enslavement while envisioning a peaceful post-war future (the dove may represent Franklin Roosevelt; it was widely believed that the U.S. entry into the war would turn the tide and lead to victory).

“Tokio Jokio” revealed that the Japanese plane-spotters brigade consisted of people literally painting spots on aircraft.

Ducktators included Mussolini (center) and Hitler (right) – they’re reacting to Chamberlain, whom the cartoon depicts as a goose.

But another duck takes the best U.S. war cartoon prize: Donald Duck. He starred in the academy award-winning short film “Der Fuehrer’s Face” (originally “Donald Duck in Nutzi Land”). Released in 1943, it features Donald as a slave-laborer in a Nazi munitions family; it combines classic comic bits (e.g., the accelerating assembly line), the hallucinatory shape-shifting that animation makes possible, devastatingly clever caricatures of Axis leaders, and a clear patriotic finale.

Donald trying to salute and keep up production at the same time.

Most memorable may be the signature song, written by Oliver Wallace and released in 1942 by Spike Jones and His City Slickers. I can attest that this parodic (of the Horst Wessel Leid) song appealed to children as well as adults, as my dad (a WWII veteran) taught it to me when I was little, and I can still remember the words and the tune (‘saying a [disrespectful] “Heil” right in the fuerher’s face’ appeals to children’s desire to defy tyrannical authority).

Insults to the Fuerher’s face included rotten tomatoes and (in the Spike Jones version of the song), Bronx cheers.

Obviously, this cartoon’s creators had a sophisticated adult audience in mind (the references to Wagner, to the difficulties of rationing, to the Aryan myth, maybe even to the then less publicized Nazi genocidal campaigns against Jews and other ‘undesirable minorities’) as well as a mass audience that included children (the slapstick, the beloved anthropomorphic underdog [here, a duck], the visual fun, the catchy song).

The singing superheroes’ spunky pal War Bond delivers a three-fold punch to Axis leaders.

Many WWII-era U.S. comics enlisted their brawny stars in the cause of truth, justice, and the American way.

It’s interesting that “Der Fuehrer’s Face” was incorporated in a 1943 issue of the Four Favorites superheroes comic book, a vehicle much more targeted to children. [But not exclusively: war-time comic books were also read by adults and widely disseminated to deployed soldiers and sailors.] Similarly, the most kid-centric U.S. propaganda cartoon may be a Superman animation, “The Japoteurs” (1942), in which the Man of (U.S.-made) Steel rescues a kidnapped Lois Lane from perfidious Japanese spies who hijacked an American super-plane.

Quicksilver Messenger

The movie poster for Hitlerjunge Quex, complete with signature Nazi colors and a handsomely resolute, hyper-Aryan teenaged hero.

A signal difference between WW-II-era U.S. (and, for that matter, Japanese) propaganda directed at children and current ISIS propaganda directed at children is humor. The possibilities provided by animation (notably in ways that depict the seemingly small/powerless overcoming the big/powerful) invite visual comedy, which in turn facilitates additional layers of identification and aspiration. ISIS video games try to do the same thing, but without the humor, they are simply deadly war simulations.

Quex’s first view of the Hitlerjugend shows their toy-soldier camping activities.

ISIS recruiting videos, however, do appeal to children/young adults. Victims become victors; the powerless gain power and fame– indeed, they can become Jihadist superheroes. Going back to World War II and its run-up, the closest analog may be the Nazi-supported 1933 film Hitlerjunge Quex.

Based on a contemporary novel by Karl Aloys Schenzinger, the film chronicles the short life of Herbert Norkus, a fifteen-year-old Hitler Youth activist who reportedly was killed by Communist opponents for distributing Nazi leaflets. Norkus’ nickname, Quex (German abbreviation for Quicksilver), referred to his speedy diligence at carrying out orders.

The hero’s ‘quex’ nickname began as a taunt; after his Hitlerjugend buddies visited him in the hospital and gave him a spiffy uniform signifying his acceptance into their group, ‘quex’ became an honored nom de guerre.

Speaking of speed: Josef Goebbels immediately used Norkus’ death as a propaganda rallying point, and the young man’s funeral was staged as a Nazi ceremony to youth martyrdom. With Goebbels’ backing, a hagiographic novel was rushed into print and the film version was rushed into celluloid. According to Goebbels, this movie was the "first large-scale transmission of Nazi ideology using the medium of cinema.”

We all know that ‘the medium of cinema’ became, thanks to Leni Riefenstahl and others, a prime method for ‘transmitting Nazi ideology.’ What’s interesting here, I think, is that this programme’s inaugural effort was directed toward young males . . . and elevated death-for-the-cause not only to martyrdom but also to a generational superiority that should spearhead ideological dominance and realpolitik victory.

Hitlerjunge Quex highlights ‘healthy’ activities of Nazi youth organizations (bonfires, athletic competitions, snazzy uniforms, formation marching) and contrasts them with the disorganized, rumpled efforts of adult Communist groups. Indeed, Quex’s death was at the hands of an adult mob. That his Hitlerjugend pals were too late to save him, but that they rushed to his rescue nonetheless, is a powerful recruiting tool: if there only had been more heroic youngsters, Quex’s death could have been prevented. Join the cause!

Quex’s death scene; the murder occurs off-camera, leaving the pathos of the young hero’s corpse even more riveting.

Which, of course, is the main message of ISIS recruiting videos. Most focus on handsome young men and male teens enjoying militant brotherhood in the service of vengeance and justice. These patriotic stars also evidently enjoy murderous brutality in service to a higher purpose, a legacy of child-centered propaganda traceable to pre- and mid- World War II cartoons. From Momotaro to Popeye to Donald Duck, the wonders of animation normalized individually-perpetrated violence; ‘realistic’ cinema like Hiterjunge Quex reinforced the value of martyrdom.

Efforts such as ISIS-created video games, as well as their concocted cinema-verite videos, draw on these child-targeted legacies and extend them into today’s media. I hope that anti-ISIS efforts are recruiting our most talented animators, videographers, and social media experts to mount counter-offensives in the virtual world in which we all -- particularly our young people -- now live.

A 1930s meeting of the original Mickey Mouse club, in a theatre somewhere in the U.S. The point of the massed mouse masks escapes me. It’s a wonderfully bizarre image, though – maybe it indicates the power of popular culture to create groupthink among the young and, hence, susceptibility to more insidious propaganda. Or maybe it’s just a weird photo.