War, Memory and the Politics of Humor: The Canard Enchaine and World War I (review)

Douglas' new book focuses on World War I and the Canard Enchaîné, a French journal that first appeared in 1915 and published until World War II. A weekly, the Canard differed from other journals of the period by its use of humor, irony, antiphrasis, and symbolism to report on events and conditions in France. Douglas argues that during the war, and for a decade thereafter, the Canard acted as an antidote to other French papers that did not question military or political events, no matter how fantastic a military triumph sounded, or ridiculous a governmental program seemed. As a historical document, the Canard Enchaîné presents a unique opportunity to study French politics, censorship, and memory during this period.

Individual chapters of Douglas' book explore themes that appeared in the Canard from 1915 until 1928, but the author's best work comes in early chapters that analyze how the Canard worked its magic. In "Satire and Censorship," Douglas examines the methods and distinctive style that the paper developed to question wartime activities, while avoiding much of the censor's wrath. The weekly packaged itself as a humorous paper, explaining to its readers that anything in its pages could be a lie; it was up to readers (and censors) to decide which reports were fictitious and which were real.

Another of the Canard's methods of avoiding the censor lay in the introduction of the visual to provide commentary. Douglas explains that the paper's hand-drawn duck was able to say in images what was too dangerous to say in print. For example, in 1916, near an article on the activities of the Academy of Medicine, the duck produced a "biological deposit" on the page, signifying the journal's displeasure with the Academy (41). As "a part of the paper's creative modernism," the duck image, Douglas argues, was a way to critique the wartime French government while bringing attention to the question of censorship (39).

Another example is a re-occurring cartoon that appeared in the paper until the end of 1918. It showed a duck squawking at a scissors-wielding hand and arguing, "You may get my feathers. ... You won't get my skin" (23-24). As he does with numerous examples from the journal, Douglas demonstrates that this warning was an important visual and linguistic play on words, since a plume may also be a pen, and avoir la peau may also indicate "defeating or killing someone" (24). Continuously and consistently, the Canard provided two potential readings for nearly everything published and viewed in the paper, many times beating the censor at its own game.

Douglas' use of the Canard Enchaîné to delve into the world of French politics and political critique during the period of World War I is in keeping with the best methods of interdisciplinary history. He does not focus exclusively on visual representations or the semiotics of word play in the journal. Instead, he analyses both in order to unearth the depth of French skepticism and displeasure with wartime events. Other chapters of Douglas' book examine the Canard's attacks on French colonialism and racism, Maurice Barrès' support of the war (the Canard referred to him as a fictitious, bumbling Boris Marrès), and the cult of the Unknown Soldier—to name but a few. No doubt readers will come away from Douglas' work with renewed skepticism of the union sacrée and will ponder the extent to which the French really believed what they were told during the period of World War I.