Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Douglas Kerr
Orwell’s BBC broadcasts: colonial discourse and the rhetoric of
propaganda
Textual Practice ISSN 0950-236X print/ISSN 1470-1308 online © 2002 Taylor & Francis Ltd
http://www.tandf.co.uk/journals
DOI: 10.1080/0950236021016343 5
Textual Practice
There was another reason for Orwell to feel unhappy about his BBC
work, and this was a matter of principle. Although the BBC was a corporation
and not a department of government, there was never a possibility of its
being independent in wartime, and long before 1939 it had been widely
understood that radio would have an important role to play in informa-
tion and propaganda once the war came. The BBC, like the print media,
came under the supervision of the Ministry of Information, housed in the
University of London Senate House and later to serve as a model for the
Ministry of Truth in Nineteen Eighty-Four. Scripts were vetted twice in
advance, for policy and security, and a switch censor monitored all broadcasts,
ready (at least in theory) to interrupt transmission if there was any deviation
from the authorized script. The policy to which broadcasts had to conform,
with regard to India, was that it was imperative for Indians to remain loyal
to the King-Emperor in this time of crisis, and especially after the entry of
Japan into the war with the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, which
placed all Britain’s eastern possessions under threat. In 1942 as the victorious
Japanese army swept across southeast Asia and up through Burma, there was
serious concern in London that the loss of India might mean the loss of the
war. Orwell seems to have shared that view, and assented to its consequence,
which was that the chief function of BBC broadcasting to India at this time
was to keep Indians loyal to the Raj. His dilemma was that this imperative
went directly against his own conviction, born of his own service in the forces
of the Empire in Burma and developed over a decade of increasingly radical
political thinking, of what he called ‘the inherent evil of imperialism’ (10:
508). A condemnation of Empire was the rst principle of a political identity
formed not on the road to Wigan Pier but on the road to Mandalay. ‘If
I thought that a victory in the present war would mean nothing beyond a
new lease of life for British imperialism,’ he had written early in 1940 during
the Phony War, ‘I should be inclined to side with Russia and Germany’
(12:122–3). Now, in his of ce in the Eastern Service of the BBC, Orwell
found himself a functionary of an ideological state apparatus dedicated to
the survival of the British empire in the East which he had been excoriat-
ing for more than a decade. ‘It was the commitment to anti-fascism that
sustained Orwell through the compromises of principle that he was obliged
to make as a propagandist.’6 The BBC Eastern Service in wartime was
an organ of colonial discourse, propagating the word, and the worldview, of
the metropolitan centre to its peripheral subject people. Orwell’s news
commentaries are texts of that discourse which particularly repay attention
for their complicated modality, as the voice of the Empire at war (‘London
calling!’), the state, the institution of the BBC, and the compromised yet
determined author himself.
Much of Orwell’s work in the Indian Section was in the making of
features and arts programmes, and for this he was able to assemble a very
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impressive team of contributors, many of them his personal friends from the
worlds of literature, politics and journalism. The orientation of the Indian
Section to the arts and ideas was not only a re ection of Orwell’s own tastes
and professional contacts, and those of his superiors, but also a sign of the
decision, by those who made the Indian broadcasts, to ‘attempt to catch the
young Indian intellectual’, as Brander’s report puts it frankly (15:346).7 The
most vocal opposition to British rule in India over the previous twenty years
had come from well-educated middle-class Indians, and it was these people
whom the Indian broadcasts were determined to attract, through offering
a ‘highbrow’ programme content, in the hope of strengthening their ties
and therefore loyalties to Britain. Orwell’s arts and features programmes for
the BBC are certainly worth a separate study. This essay however is more
concerned with the news commentaries (also referred to as ‘newsletters’) he
wrote for weekly broadcast, some in English and some for translation into
Indian vernaculars. These texts are especially rich in ideological content
because their nature is both historiographical and hegemonic. They are
interpretations of the world events unfolding week by week in the most
critical months of the war, and offer their Indian listeners a view of those
events as seen from the imperial centre, a view that aims to convince Indians
that their own interest as a nation, as well as the cause of freedom around the
world, lies in their continued loyalty to the British in this time of peril. It was
certainly a strange contortion, whereby the anti-imperialist Orwell found
himself directing propaganda for the Raj at the most disaffected and anti-
British section of the Indian population. But it was a matter of priorities. Late
in 1942, when it was suggested that the hitherto anonymous and ‘editorial’
news commentaries should be broadcast over his own name, he noted that
his literary reputation in India probably arose ‘chie y from books of an anti-
imperialist tendency’ (14:100),8 and that in the broadcasts he had generally
taken an anti-fascist rather than an imperialist standpoint. ‘These commen-
taries have always followed what is by implication a “left” line, and in fact have
contained very little that I would not sign with my own name’ (14:101).
The broadcasts, then, participate in colonial discourse in being part
of that body of statements that shapes the relation between the colonial
power and its colonized subjects. Their author is George Orwell, journalist
and novelist, the writing subject of Eric Blair, a man whose provenance,
experience and views are present in all his writing. But the broadcasts are also
subject to a particularly complex set of determinations, inhabiting a sort of
magnetic eld where a number of sometimes contending forces help to give
it shape. To the question of who speaks in an ideologically charged text of this
kind, the answer will always be in the plural. Any utterance beyond the
elementary is multi-authored, determined by a number of authorities –
linguistic, ideological, discursive, psychological – of varying force. To examine
the broadcasts as colonial discourse it will be useful to see what these are.
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The ordinary people who have to put up with these restrictions do not
grumble, and are even heard to say that they would welcome greater
sacri ces, if these would set free more shipping for the war effort, since
they have a clear understanding of the issue, and set much more store
by their liberty than by the comfort they have been accustomed to in
peace-time.
(13:180–1)
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Douglas Kerr Orwell’s BBC broadcasts
The Allied Powers, therefore, are able immensely to outbuild the Axis
Powers, and in a year or two years bring together a force which will be
all but irresistible. But they have undoubtedly a dif cult time ahead,
and they may have a period when they are almost in conditions of
siege, and when resolution, calmness and faith in nal victory, will be
at least as important as physical weapons of war.
(13:179–80)
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The producers in the Indian Section were uncomfortably aware that their
Indian audience, such as it was, was potentially hostile (14:214, for example).
It was reckoned that listeners to English-language broadcasts in India would
be mostly students, and it was among students that anti-British feeling
was strongest. ‘Many, perhaps most, Indian intellectuals are emotionally
pro-Japanese,’ Orwell wrote in July 1942, but he thought they were also
‘reliably anti-Fascist in proportion as they are Westernized’ (he was no doubt
thinking of his friend Mulk Raj Anand) (13:381). The English language,
he concluded, was a weapon that could be used to nurture and articulate
a sort of cultural united front, which could help to defeat Japan in Asia
and perhaps in due course deliver a socialist postcolonial India. In fact, he
spent much more time at the BBC writing and producing cultural and
educational programmes than he devoted to propaganda, and incidentally
brought to the microphone an impressive array of speakers that included, as
well as Empson and Anand, Stephen Spender, E.M. Forster, Herbert Reed,
T.S. Eliot, John Lehmann, V.S. Pritchett, Sean O’Casey and many other
writers, not to mention budding media stars like J.B.S. Haldane and C.E.M.
Joad.
The newsletters, however, were a constant. In his two years at the BBC
he wrote 104 or 105 for broadcast in English, and 115 or 116 for translation
into various Asian vernaculars (only a quarter of these survive). These were
not news bulletins, but a commentary on the week’s events, usually in the
form of an attempt to find their significance in the broader context of
the war.15 They may be thought of as standing in relation to news bulletins
as the weekly to the daily press. Orwell of course had made his living as a
commentator, and he brings to this radio genre many of the habits that
characterized his print journalism. His writing about the course of the war
in the newsletters – this is their main topic – was perhaps helped less by his
actual experience as a soldier in Spain in 1937 than by the fact that he had
monitored the newspaper reporting, and reviewed most of the vast number
of books published in recent years, which purported to narrate and explain
what happened in the Spanish Civil War.16 He adapted comfortably to the
genre, though when he began to read his own newsletters on air from
November 1942, there were changes of style and rhetoric which accompanied
the entry of personality into the discourse, but this had the effect of making
the broadcasts even closer to the kind of journalistic writing he had developed
in print media before joining the BBC.
It is not surprising that he thought of his radio work in terms of the more
familiar medium of print. When he devised ‘Voice’, a regular feature devoted
to reading and discussing poetry, he called it a ‘magazine programme’, and
in the rst number he asked his listeners to imagine the publication in front
of them (‘One advantage of a magazine of this kind is that you can choose
your own cover design’), and to move through its twenty-seven and a half
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minutes’ time as if it were printed space (‘Now please turn to page four’)
(13:459–69). But there are important differences between airtime and the
printed page. Radio speech is both more ephemeral and more demanding
than writing. It leaves no iterable record, it dictates the speed and rhythm of
its reception. Writing can be possessed, set aside, taken up, reread, skimmed.
But radio speech interpellates on its own terms, if it engages at all, through
an oral medium in which the speaker – let alone the writer – is always absent.
It is invisible language, news from nowhere, embodied in neither script nor
speaker. This spectral quality of words ‘on air’ (at that stage in the technology
of broadcasting) has implications for modality and discourse. The anony-
mous commentaries spoke in a voice that was not that of a person, though
it had an accent, which was Indian. Being disembodied and apparently
context-free, but also globally knowledgeable and authoritative, it was both
thoroughly naturalized and uncannily oracular.
Having considered questions of authority, rhetoric, genre and medium,
I turn now to intertextuality. Newsletter 10, like Orwell’s other broadcasts,
stands in relation to other texts which play a part in shaping it. News
commentaries depend on news (most news itself is created out of earlier
news) and it is clear from his diaries that Orwell was a voracious consumer
of the news media, which ourished in wartime though hampered by the
paper shortage.17 The BBC was an information-gathering as well as a broad-
casting organization, and staff had access to the reports of its Monitoring
Service which translated and transcribed radio broadcasts all around the
world. It is this invaluable journalistic resource that underwrites the authority
with which the strategic gaze of the newsletters sweeps the globe, for the ears
if not the eyes of the BBC were everywhere. But in practice the Monitoring
Service was probably less useful as a source of facts than as a record of the
propaganda of both friends and enemies. It meant, for example, that Orwell
was one of the few writers in England to have actually followed the pro-
fascist broadcasts Ezra Pound made in Italy (16:81). After Hitler’s invasion
of Russia, which turned the USSR overnight from an enemy into an ally of
Britain, Orwell relayed Soviet reports of their military successes in his
newsletters to his Indian audience, although privately he was sceptical. ‘From
studying the German and Russian wireless I have long come to the conclusion
that the reports of Russian victories are largely phony’, he confessed in his
diary (13:229). Some fruits of the BBC’s global vantage were not for export.
The most important body of discourse to which Orwell’s broad-
casts relate may be described as contratextual. This contratextual material
comprises enemy propaganda which might be reaching India, and many of
Orwell’s newsletters engage with this discourse antagonist directly.18 As we
have seen, counter-propaganda was an important part of the brief of the
BBC’s overseas services, particularly urgent in the case of India where loyalties
could certainly not be taken for granted.
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Douglas Kerr Orwell’s BBC broadcasts
Even in the present war, they are ghting far more against Asiatics
than against Europeans. In the Philippine islands the resistance to
Japanese attack is kept up mainly by Filipinos, in Malaya by Indians
as much as by the British, in the Dutch East Indies by Javanese and
Sumatrans. One of the opening acts of the war was the wanton
bombing of Rangoon by the Japanese, in which hundreds of innocent
Burmese were killed. Moreover, in those Asiatic territories which the
Japanese have ruled over for a long time, we can see what their
behaviour actually is towards subject peoples.
(13:127)
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The actual date of Cripps’s departure for India was not given out, but
presumably he has gone by this time. Ordinary public opinion here
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This exciting prognosis seems not to have bothered the censor who
monitored mail sent to the USA, but it may be imagined that it would
not have been well received if offered as part of a BBC broadcast to India.
Orwell kept his hopes for a ‘revolutionary world war’ from his Indian
audience; but they were not incompatible with the promotion of an anti-
fascist alliance between Indians and the people of a Britain mobilized against
tyranny.
The paratexts raise a dif cult question about the consistency of Orwell’s
political disposition towards India and the Empire. The broadcasts, as we
have seen, took place in an institutional matrix that determined their agenda
in advance. This was, in brief, the use of the instruments of colonial
technology, knowledge and authority, to inform and entertain an Indian
audience while trying to secure their loyalty in wartime. Orwell was quite
ready to assent to this hegemonic agenda for the time being, since in his view
the defeat of the Axis powers took precedence over everything else. Besides
victory, but in his view impossible without it, was a list of other political
desiderata, including an end to European rule in the East as soon as this
could be safely accomplished, a domestic socialist revolution of the sort
imagined in The Lion and the Unicorn in 1940, and some kind of interna-
tional federation to supersede the destructive nationalisms of the nineteenth
and twentieth centuries.21 This other agenda is almost entirely unheard in
the broadcasts, though its components are often at issue in the paratextual
writing Orwell was engaged in during his time at the BBC. He was probably
telling the truth when he claimed that his newsletters for India in fact
contained very little that he would not sign with his own name (14:101). The
problem lay in what they were not able to say, and this accounts for the sense
of liberation he described when he did nally leave the BBC, late in 1943,
to become literary editor of Tribune where his regular column was called
‘As I Please’. None of these other political desires is quite incompatible with
the main agenda of the broadcasts, though each is placed further down the
order of precedence. Their presence in the paratextual writings, of which the
broadcast texts are discursively unaware since they exist in a separate and
watertight segment of the public sphere, does not make Orwell a hypocrite.
Everyone says different things appropriate to different contexts. But it put
him uncomfortably close to the position he remembered occupying in his
earlier incarnation as a servant of colonial discourse, as a young man in the
Imperial Police in Burma. Burmese Days declares that ‘it is a corrupting thing
to live one’s real life in secret’.22 Orwell was not keeping his views secret, but
he was keeping them separate.
One alarming paratext, from the diary, needs to be mentioned and
has to be quoted fully. It sits very uncomfortably with the broadcasts’
cultivation of a relationship of respect and solidarity between Indians and
English.
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This passage is in the manuscript diary but was omitted from the typed
version; it was never intended for publication. How are we to take this
statement about the ‘inferiority’ of most Indians? In his published writings
throughout his career Orwell was quite consistent in repudiating the
biological determinism of racism.24 Indeed, as the war progressed he returns
frequently to this theme, under the pressure of events ranging from the news
of Nazi genocide to the presence of black American servicemen in London.
On the other hand, he certainly believed in cultural determinism, in the way
that the social con gurations of class, money and prestige could condition
re exes in the individual that might never be unlearned. The ‘inferiority’ of
most Indians to a European in a colonial context – British or, as it might be,
Russian India – was then a registration of the fact that in such a context,
relations would inevitably be in most cases asymmetrical, the Indian having
less power, money, prestige and so on, and one result of this being the
foreigner falling into the overbearing habit of treating the other as a ‘native’
– bullying or patronizing. Seen in this way, it is a repetition of an idea present
in Orwell’s earlier writings about colonialism, in ‘A Hanging’, Burmese Days,
‘Shooting an Elephant’, ‘Marrakech’, ‘Not Counting Niggers’ and elsewhere,
where he analyses the pernicious effect of Empire on both participants in the
transaction. That this ‘inferiority’ would dissolve with the end of Empire is
one of Orwell’s most powerful anti-imperial arguments. The possession of
an empire had made it dif cult for the British to regard people of other races
as fully human beings. With the end of Empire this terrible handicap might
be removed. Orwell found it hard to envisage a postcolonial world in detail
but the one people he was sure would bene t from it was his own.
Even so, that sentence, even in a non-communicative context, is
alarming. Although I do not believe it is a racist statement, prima facie it is
a statement about the inferiority of Indians to Europeans, and I doubt it
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could have been made by someone whose position was completely coherent
on this matter. It is to say the least a disturbing moment, and a further
impediment to any attempt to read Orwell’s political and emotional attitude
to India as consistent and frictionless. In truth his writing on Indian subjects
in these years is more like a debating chamber of different views. British India
is a capitalist ramp – the standard Leninist position (see e.g. 18:143). India,
like Burma, is a weakling in a hostile world, and needs the protection of
a benign imperial power – the conservative view (15:48). India must be
set free, but the time is not quite right – the liberal line since the 1830s
(15:211). Churchill is a reactionary fantasist (16:272). Gandhi is a
reactionary fantasist (15:214). Colonized ‘natives’ are inferior (13:276). If
they knew their own strength they could set themselves free in a moment
(11:420). Imperialism is unjusti able (15:34), nationalism is no panacea
(15:212–13). The Indian intelligentsia do not want independence (13:276).
India must be given the right to secede (13:188). Britain should immediately
declare India independent (15:213). India cannot be independent (15:211).
Britain clings to its Empire for the plunder it provides (13:153); economi-
cally, it cannot afford to go on doing so (17:340). We have wronged the
Indians, and we have helped to awaken them (13:381). India must support
its imperial master in ‘the world-wide struggle of the free peoples against
aggression’ (14:95).
Orwell’s great polemics at this time, in essays like ‘Politics and the
English language’, insist eloquently upon clarity of expression and consis-
tency of viewpoint, but it can be seen that his own positions here, if not
exactly what would be called doublethinkful in Newspeak, are hardly models
of coherence. This remains the case even after due acknowledgement that
he was writing fast about dif cult issues in turbulent times. And it is not
really suf cient to say that much of his writing at this time had a primary
propaganda purpose and was under pressure from official institutional
discourse to lter out certain views as inappropriate, even illicit. He was not
obliged to say anything he dissented from; and he worked at the BBC
voluntarily. His writing in the war years certainly re ects a muddle about
India. That confusion was widespread in British attitudes to India at this
time, re ected in the Cabinet of a National Government that included the
Tory imperialist Churchill and the socialist anti-imperialist Cripps, for
example. But the confusion was also in Orwell himself. It is not just that as
a writer he inhabited different and conflicting discourses, but that these
discourses inhabited him. It was from his uncomfortable recognition of his
own dividedness that his identity as a writer grew; indeed, he saw it as vital
to that identity since an exploration of that dividedness was his subject. The
second part of The Road to Wigan Pier considers the determinations of class,
provenance and early history, and also the inner dynamic, forced by practical
and intellectual experience, which unsettles these determinations but never
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Notes
1 For Orwell’s BBC career see William Empson, ‘Orwell at the BBC’, in
M. Gross (ed.), The World of George Orwell (London: Weidenfeld and
Nicolson, 1971), pp. 94–9; Bernard Crick, George Orwell: A Life, 3rd edn
(Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1981); W.J. West, Orwell: The War Broadcasts
(Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1985); W.J. West, Orwell: The War Commentaries
(Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1985); Michael Shelden, Orwell: The Authorized
Biography (London: Heinemann, 1991); Stephen Ingle, George Orwell: A
Political Life (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1993); Peter Davison,
George Orwell: A Literary Life (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1996); Jeffrey Meyers,
Orwell: Wintry Conscience of a Generation (New York: Norton, 2000).
2 Volume and page references to Orwell’s writing in the text refer to The
Complete Works of George Orwell, ed. Peter Davison, 20 vols (London: Secker
and Warburg, 1998).
3 It has been argued that increasing problems with the censor in 1943 were
making it harder for Orwell to make the kind of programmes he wanted to
make at the BBC. See West, Orwell: The War Broadcasts, pp. 44–55. The
argument has also been made that the anti-Soviet Animal Farm is a sort of
atonement for Orwell’s involvement in Allied (including pro-Soviet)
propaganda while at the BBC. See C. Fleay and M.L. Sanders, ‘Looking into
the abyss: George Orwell at the BBC’, Journal of Contemporary History,
24 (1989), p. 514. I do not nd either argument very compelling.
4 See the Report on Indian Programmes by Laurence Brander, the BBC’s
Eastern Service Intelligence Of cer, 11 January 1943 (15:343–56). English-
language programmes directed at an Indian audience were characterized by
Brander as ‘our most damaging failure’ (15:346).
5 Davison, George Orwell: A Literary Life, p. 119.
6 Fleay and Sanders, ‘Looking into the abyss’, p. 506.
7 A similar policy was followed by the Chinese Section. ‘William Empson has
worn himself out for two years trying to get them to broadcast intelligent stuff
to China, and I think he has succeeded to some small extent’ (15:166).
8 Indeed, his novel Burmese Days (1934) was banned in India throughout this
time.
9 Asa Briggs, The History of Broadcasting in the United Kingdom: Volume 3: The
War of Words (London: Oxford University Press, 1970), p. 346.
10 Bose was a nationalist and former Congress leader who threw in his lot with
the Axis. Early in the war he broadcast anti-British propaganda to India from
Germany, and later raised troops to ght alongside the Japanese against the
British forces defending or occupying India.
11 ‘Compared with the task of bringing the real England to the surface, even the
winning of the war, necessary though it is, is secondary. By revolution we
become more ourselves, not less’ (12:432).
12 This was a sensitive point for obvious reasons. In the collection of broadcast
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scripts in Talking to India, which Orwell edited, the Table of Contents marks
with an asterisk the thin majority of thirteen out of twenty- ve contributions
‘written and broadcast by Indians or other Asiatics’, and also prints cheery
photographs of predominantly Indian faces at the microphone.
13 Bokhari was committed to the retention of India within the Empire, and
‘defended British imperial rule’ (Fleay and Sanders, ‘Looking into the abyss’,
p. 505). He was to go on to become Director General of Pakistan Radio.
14 The issue of ‘voice’ was a vital one for Orwell, as may be seen from the extra-
ordinary importance given to questions of accent in The Road to Wigan Pier.
Domestic broadcasting was dominated by the upper-class tones of ‘BBC
English’, or what Orwell engagingly called ‘Stripetrouser’ (16:124). ‘What he
felt to be the inadequacy and offensiveness of this of cial voice was of course
an issue of particular concern in the years of the Second World War, when
radio broadcasting was full of of cial voices while Orwell’s mature position
on language was shaping’ (Roger Fowler, The Language of George Orwell
(Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1995), p. 23). But Fowler has little to say about
Orwell’s own broadcasting experience. One of the best studies of Orwell is
Lynette Hunter’s George Orwell: The Search for a Voice (Milton Keynes: Open
University Press, 1984).
15 ‘The primary purpose of news commentaries is propaganda’, asserts a
con dential BBC memorandum written by the Assistant Controller of
Overseas Programmes in February 1942 (Fleay and Sanders, ‘Looking into the
abyss’, p. 508).
16 The idea developed (but also resisted) in Nineteen Eighty-Four that the past
itself has no existence, other than as a story told by the powerful in their own
interest, derives not from Nietszche but from Orwell’s reading of accounts of
the Spanish Civil War, many of which he knew to be agrantly dishonest. In
‘Looking back on the Spanish War’ he complained: ‘I am willing to believe
that history is for the most part inaccurate and biased, but what is peculiar to
our own age is the abandonment of the idea that history could be truthfully
written’ (13:504).
17 The Daily Worker was the only newspaper to be banned in Britain in the war
years. It soon reappeared under a different title and was sold on the streets
without interference, but it had ceased to be a daily and lost most of its
circulation (13:108). The ban lasted for twenty months and was lifted in
August 1942. While at the BBC, Orwell said he read four or ve morning
newspapers every day and several editions of the evening papers, besides the
daily monitoring report (13:240).
18 The Government of India had a Counter-propaganda Department which was
kept busy containing a vigorous campaign of Japanese radio propaganda
spreading rumours, threats and disaffection. Much sabotage in India,
according to Brander, was ‘inspired by Saigon radio, just as it is inspired by us
in Europe’ (15:343).
19 This reputation was not undisputed, and appears not to have extended to All
India Radio, established in consultation with the BBC as a department of the
Government of India’s Ministry of Industries and Labour. P.S. Gupta (Radio
and the Raj 1921–47 (Calcutta: K. P. Bagchi for the Centre for Studies in
Social Sciences, 1995), p. 34) says that in the early years of the war, colonial
subjects in India were more inclined to believe the propaganda of the other side
than of their imperial masters.
20 For Orwell’s writing for Partisan Review, see John Newsinger, Orwell’s Politics
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