Introduction

In contrast to other military theatres, the First World War in South East Europe’s Balkan Peninsula followed on from a prolonged period of regional instability that culminated in the Balkan Wars of 1912 to 1913. By the outbreak of the first war, the region’s ruling elites and nationalist movements had recognised the need to foster local support in contested territories such as Ottoman-ruled Macedonia and Thrace, and the significance of public opinion as an instrument for legitimising their expansionist agendas. Alongside political actors, cultural and scientific institutions and the region’s various autocephalous Eastern Orthodox churches attempted to influence both public discourse in their respective homelands and perceptions of national identity in disputed territories. Within these earlier forms of propaganda, vaguely defined questions of national honour through unity usually served as the main narrative subtext.[1]

Following the outbreak of the First Balkan War in October 1912, independent foreign observers, such as the International Commission set up by the Carnegie Endowment to investigate allegations of widespread atrocities, emphasised the manner in which nationalist propaganda dehumanized the enemy and incited excessive violence. An extensive report on the Commission’s findings, published in 1914, for instance, included posters depicting Greek Evzones[2] gauging out the eyes of Bulgarian soldiers. The report also detailed the role propaganda had played in exacerbating inter-communal tensions, especially in rural Macedonia.[3]

By 1914 however, the end of the Second Balkan War had seen propaganda's effectiveness diminish as a means of rallying public support. With the exception of Bulgaria, the 1913 Treaty of Bucharest had partially satiated the territorial ambitions of the independent states while socioeconomic pressures, created by the conflicts’ military demands, had dampened public receptiveness. As a consequence, the popular enthusiasm that had greeted the outbreak of the First World War in other parts of Europe was markedly absent, or less pronounced, in the Balkans. For Serbia and Montenegro, the conflict quickly devolved into an increasingly desperate struggle for national survival while Bulgaria, Greece, and Romania initially sought to remain neutral until domestic and external pressures saw them gradually drawn into the fighting between 1915 to 1916

For the majority of the Balkan peoples, nationalism and foreign policy issues were of little relevance: "public opinion" mostly equated to that of a very small, albeit vocal, educated urban elite rather than the population at large. High illiteracy rates; poor communication and transport infrastructure; the presence of large, and often openly hostile, ethnic minorities; and a general mistrust of urban-based government among South East Europe's largely rural populace impeded propaganda’s effectiveness as an instrument of persuasion. The absence of dedicated wartime institutions also made its dissemination a chaotic and uneven process reliant on direct appeals through public addresses and published ephemera, or the cooperation of local religious and educational figures. This was further compounded by the disruptive impact of the war itself. By 1918, disease, invasion, human displacement, military occupation had, in some cases, destroyed the capacity of national governments and political groupings to sustain their propaganda campaigns.

As a consequence, propagandists increasingly attempted to establish links with more immediate socioeconomic concerns, often informed by a rising sense of urgency over fears of military desertion or civil unrest.[4] This article will consider how these convoluted and fluid developments were subsequently reflected in the diversity of regional propaganda, with each country attuning its narrative to accommodate differing political, economic, and even cultural circumstances, including ambivalence and domestic opposition.

Bulgaria

Throughout the 1890s and early 1900s, Bulgarian nationalists were arguably the most adept at promoting their cause though propaganda regionally and internationally: a concerted press campaign played upon popular anti-Ottoman sentiment in Britain, France, and Russia, swaying foreign sympathies in favour of Bulgaria’s territorial claims to Macedonia and Thrace. However, by 1914 these advantages had been eroded as a result of Bulgaria’s involvement in the Balkan Wars. Military defeats had brought extensive territorial losses while leaving Bulgaria internationally isolated and surrounded by hostile neighbours. Moreover, despite the ruling elite’s revanchist ambitions, the wars’ economic and demographic toll exposed the limitations of nationalist propaganda’s repeated appeals to popular patriotism: waning morale and rising political and social unrest among the ranks of the Bulgarian army played a significant role in its defeat in 1913.[5] Even in 1912, government efforts to fully mobilise public support were partially frustrated by a growing resistance to nationalist appeals from both the emerging urban working-class and a sizeable portion of the peasantry. This discontent was further reflected in the 1913 parliamentary elections in which the anti-war Bulgarian Agrarian National Union and Social Democratic Parties secured over 40 percent of the national vote.[6]

As in Greece and Romania, the mood that greeted the outbreak of the First World War in Bulgaria was generally sombre. The initial wave of patriotic enthusiasm seen in Berlin, Paris, and London in 1914 was largely absent in Sofia with the government awaiting a more opportune moment to intervene on terms that would fulfil Bulgaria’s territorial aspirations. Following a series of diplomatic agreements with the Central Powers in the summer of 1915, domestic propaganda was revived. Entry into the war was construed as a punitive crusade against the other Balkan states in retaliation for their perceived betrayal during the Balkan Wars and the annexation of lands considered an integral part of the Bulgarian nation; the Germanophile Ferdinand I, Tsar of Bulgaria (1861-1948), sought to rally public feeling around the popular anti-Greek and anti-Serb slogan Sayuznitsi Razboinitsi (“thieving allies”).[7]

Nevertheless, despite having satiated this narrativized desire for revenge through their successful military campaigns against Serbia and Romania, by 1917 circumstances had again shifted against the Bulgarians. As had been the case in 1913, propaganda calls for national unity and patriotic sacrifice failed to assuage a collapse of national moral in the face of mounting war losses, economic shortages and diminished public enthusiasm for further military adventures. Russia’s February Revolution dealt a further blow to the official line, spreading anti-war and anti-monarchist sentiment and soliciting counter-narratives from the opposition Agrarian and Socialist movements. By September 1918, widespread civil unrest and open mutiny within the army demonstrated how ineffective nationalist propaganda had become.[8]

Greece

Among the independent states, Greece’s entry into the First World War was the most complex from a propaganda perspective. While arguably enjoying the greatest successes among the Balkan Wars’ participants, the conflicts of 1912 and 1913 had exacerbated political tensions in modern Greek society. By 1914 these had crystallised around the increasingly fractious relationship between the Liberal Prime Minister Eleutherios Venizelos (1864-1936), and Constantine I, King of Greece (1868-1923), who had ascended to the throne following his father’s assassination in March 1913. The First World War heightened this antagonism with Greece’s declaration of neutrality in 1914 dividing the political elites between pro-Entente Venizelists and Royalists who favoured continued neutrality. This precipitated a period of civil strife known as the National Schism (Ethnikos Dihasmos) that determined the nature of Greek wartime propaganda. Serbia’s defeat and occupation by the Central Powers and Venizelos’s granting the Entente permission to deploy a vast expeditionary force in the port of Thessaloniki from 1915 to 1918 further complicated matters.[9]

Despite being the last of the Balkan states to enter the war in June 1917, the conflict’s impact on Greece’s political divide had already manifested in 1915. At the public level, polarised debates in the national press quickly devolved into overt propaganda focused on incrimination and character assassination. Following Constantine’s dismissal of Venizelos in December 1915, as a result of his attempts to steer Greece into the Entente camp, Venizelist propaganda increasingly depicted the king as a German sympathiser motivated by dynastic connections and venal self-interest. Royalists, supported by the Greek Orthodox church, responded by accusing their opponents of jeopardising national security while both sides sought to construe their respective narratives as a matter of Greek national destiny. Britain, France, and Germany also attempted to sway Greek public opinion through their own subversive propaganda.[10]

The national crisis was eventually brought to a head in May 1916 with revelation that the new Royalist government had permitted German-Bulgarian forces to occupy several strategic points to the south of the Greece's northern border. This precipitated a coup d’état by Venizelist military offices in Thessaloniki and the formation of an Entente-backed Provisional Government of National Defence (Prosoriní Kyvérnisi tis Ethnikís Amýnis) in August. By 1917, these volatile circumstances transgressed beyond vitriolic propaganda into outright political violence that culminated in Constantine’s forced abdication and Venizelos’s triumphalist return to office in June.

Nationalist propaganda was also employed by Venizelists in their effort to “Hellanize” Greece’s newly acquired northern territories. Foremost among these were the upper and middle classes of Thessaloniki’s Jewish community whom Venizelos was eager to cultivate as a basis of local political support. This was reflected in Greek propaganda’s vehement championing for the creation of an independent Jewish homeland in Palestine, prior to the Balfour declaration in November 1917.[11] By contrast, the use of wartime propaganda as a vehicle for post-war nation-building represented a continuation in the persecution of Greece’s other minorities. Macedonian Slavs in particular were targeted as being an "amorphous mass", their assumed pro-Bulgarian sympathies necessitating forced assimilation or expulsion.[12]

Montenegro

Like Greece, wartime propaganda narratives in Montenegro were shaped by internal divisions and debates on national identity. This centred on the nationalist belief that Montenegro would eventually emerge as the "Piedmont" of a revived Greater Serbian Empire. By the early 1900s however, the country’s autocratic ruler Nikola I, King of Montenegro (1841-1921), faced growing challenges from those Montenegrins who championed union with neighbouring Serbia under the Karadjordjević dynasty; suspected attempts by Nikola’s pro-Serbian opponents to overthrow him and initiate such a union in 1907 and 1909 further strained relations between the two countries.[13]

Nevertheless, despite diplomatic overtures from Austria-Hungary, pro-Serbian public sentiment saw Montenegro declare war on the Dual Monarchy in August 1914. Despite Nikola remaining as nominal head of the Montenegrin army, an earlier military treaty had placed the majority of his forces under Serbian command, granting Serb military representatives extensive political influence. Between 1914 and 1915, these representatives and their pro-unionist Montenegrin allies attempted to capitalise on public support by advocating for a post-war union. Propaganda depicting the war effort as a heroic struggle for the survival of the Greater Serbian nation was widely disseminated while the preservation of Montenegrin national independence became progressively marginalised.[14]

Serbia’s occupation at the end of 1915 presaged Montenegro’s military capitulation to Austria-Hungary in January 1916, with Nikola fleeing into exile in France. Despite efforts to preserve Montenegrin sovereignty, pro-Serb discourses continued to monopolise wartime propaganda. By contrast, the reputations of the royal family and their pro-independence supporters became tainted through an association with Montenegro’s surrender and the brutal military occupation that followed.[15]

Romania

While Romania did not enter the war until 1916, its propaganda narratives also followed a similar ideological trajectory in depicting it as being the culmination of a historical struggle for modern nationhood. Since the 19th century, this had found expression in the nationalist championing of the unification of all Romanian speakers within a "Greater Romania". This paralleled the formation of a Romanian national consciousness in adjacent territories, notably Russian-ruled Bessarabia to the north-east and Hungary’s multi-ethnic province of Transylvania to the west. This significantly differentiated the geographical and political context of Romania’s territorial ambitions form other Balkan states while potentially setting it against two of the European Great Powers. Despite rising anti-Habsburg sentiment in the wake of the Transylvanian Memorandum incident of 1892, in 1914 Bucharest oscillated between the Entente and the Central Powers, electing to remain neutral despite having been a member of the Triple Alliance since 1883.[16]

From 1914 to 1916, supporters of the pro-German Carol I, King of Romania (1839-1914), engaged in increasingly impassioned debates with those of the Francophone Prime Minister Ion I. C. Brătianu (1864-1927). At the heart of this dispute was the question of whether Romania should direct its expansionist energies east or westwards in an effort to avoid antagonising both of its larger neighbours.[17] However, Carol’s death and the ascension of his pro-Entente nephew Ferdinand I, King of Romania (1865-1927), saw any anti-Russian sentiments drowned out by more vociferous anti-Habsburg rhetoric that was only amplified with Romania’s declaration of war on the Dual Monarchy in August 1916.[18]

While this message was emboldened by Romania's initial military success, subsequent setbacks, deteriorating domestic conditions, excessive military and civilian causalities, and the occupation of most of the country by 1917 prompted a drastic shift in Romanian wartime propaganda. A few weeks after the overthrow of Nicholas II, Emperor of Russia (1868-1918), King Ferdinand attempted to placate the Romanian peasantry by reopening the contentious issue of land reform. In an effort to stave off desertion or a possible revolt, soldiers – the majority of whom were conscripted peasant sharecroppers – were promised post-war smallholdings as well as universal male enfranchisement. Although this change in message may have contributed to a brief revival in Romanian moral and military fortunes, Russia’s withdrawal of support following the October Revolution sealed the country’s fate, forcing Bucharest to negotiate an armistice with the Central Powers in November 1917. Ironically, Romanian territorial losses in the west were more than compensated for by a proclaimed union with Bessarabia in April 1918. Nevertheless, the fashioning of an aggressive Greater Romanian nationalist narrative through wartime propaganda, compounded by the annexation of Transylvania and other areas in late 1918, would have increasingly disruptive and violent implications during the interwar period.[19]

Serbia and Yugoslavian Secessionism

As with other irredentist agendas that emerged in South East Europe during the 19th century, Serbian (and Montenegrin) nationalist narratives emphasised the unification of all native Serbian speakers within a contiguous "Greater Serbia"; Kosovo and the large Orthodox Slav population of Bosnia-Herzegovina were the primary focus of this narrative in propaganda. This intersected with the crystallising pan-Yugoslavian movement, centred in Austria-Hungary’s Croatian territories, that had been further strengthened by the Dual Monarchy’s annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina in 1908. Intellectual and cultural figures, notably the internationally celebrated Croat sculptor Ivan Meštrović (1883-1962), even depicted Croats, Serbs, and Slovenes as constituent tribes of a single "Yugoslav race" based on language and shared traditions.[20] The First World War was instrumental in merging these overlapping ideologies within an internationally-oriented propaganda campaign.

Unlike its neighbours, Serbia’s status as one of the First World War’s initiating parties initially oriented its propaganda towards the immediate war effort, effectively eliminating any scope for opposition. Conversely, the extent to which propaganda simply needed to project the threat of impending foreign occupation to reinforce military and civil cohesion is highly questionable. In 1914 for instance, poor morale and the desultory condition of the Serbian military saw some divisions experience desertion rates of nearly 75 percent.[21] Nevertheless, Serbia’s unexpected victories against the invading Austro-Hungarian army at the battles of Mount Cer and Kolubara in 1914 established the country in Entente propaganda as a valiant ally, akin to Belgium. This international dimension was further reflected in the Serbian government’s propagandizing of its own war aims: the Niš Declaration in December 1914 declared Serbia’s intention to be "nothing less" than the unification of all Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes in a common state "on the ruins of Austria-Hungary".[22]

Even before Serbia’s occupation in late 1915, Belgrade’s representatives acted to ingratiate their country’s war aims with those of the Entente. These envoys operated in parallel with the Yugoslav Committee, a Habsburg Slav secessionist group that was based in London for duration of the war, although this relationship grew more strained as the war progressed. The Committee’s mainly Croat and Slovene members sought to offset Italian territorial claims in the eastern Adriatic by promoting a unification with Serbia and Montenegro, nominally allied countries.[23] From 1915, the British public were presented with exaggerated depictions of a Yugoslav national culture, incorporating a broad pastiche of Croat, Serb, and Slovene elements. Meštrović’s Kosovo exhibition, displayed at the Victoria and Albert Museum in 1915, and British public commemorations of the Serbian national holiday Vidovdan in June 1916, were seized upon as an expression of a shared Yugoslav identity.[24]

Despite its effectiveness in winning the sympathies of the wartime public in both Britain and France, neither Committee nor Serbian government propaganda succeeded in its key political objective of convincing London and Paris of the need for a post-war Yugoslavian state. Following the February Revolution and the brief revival of a proposed autonomous South Slav entity by pro-Habsburg Slav politicians in the May Declaration, the Yugoslav secessionists gradually abandoned propaganda activities in favour of more direct political action, notably the signing of the Corfu Declaration in July 1917.[25]

Conclusion

Despite the importance contemporary scholarship on the First World War attributes to propaganda, its use in South East European countries remains largely overlooked. While often displaying numerous similarities structured around themes that were ubiquitous across the region’s various political movements, particularly in the case of nationalism, propaganda in the wartime Balkans was far from homogenous. As the war progressed, ruling elites and political actors were increasingly forced to adjust, or recalibrate, their narratives for both domestic and international audiences. The contrasting fates of Serbia and Montenegro are illustrative of this dynamic wherein placating larger, more powerful allies was often necessary simply to merit consideration within any post-war settlement.

Of greater significance however, is the recurrent evidence of popular wartime resistance to messages explicit in nationalist propaganda, exemplified by high rates desertion and rising concerns among ruling elites regarding their subjects’ political loyalties, particularly in rural areas. This ultimately calls into question the extent to which populations in South Eastern Europe, when framed against the fluidity of wartime developments, willingly accepted the official narratives of nationalist governments and demonstrates a pressing need for further scholarly enquiry.


Samuel Foster, University of East Anglia

Section Editors: Milan Ristović; Richard C. Hall; Tamara Scheer