Try the Oldest Known Recipe For Toothpaste: From Ancient Egypt, Circa the 4th Century BC

Image of Ancient Egypt­ian Den­tistry, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

When we assume that mod­ern improve­ments are far supe­ri­or to the prac­tices of the ancients, we might do well to actu­al­ly learn how peo­ple in the dis­tant past lived before indulging in “chrono­log­i­cal snob­bery.” Take, for exam­ple, the area of den­tal hygiene. We might imag­ine the ancient Greeks or Egyp­tians as prone to ram­pant tooth decay, lack­ing the ben­e­fits of pack­aged, brand­ed tooth­paste, silken rib­bons of floss, astrin­gent mouth­wash, and ergonom­ic tooth­brush­es. But in fact, as tooth­paste man­u­fac­tur­er Col­gate points out, “the basic fun­da­men­tals” of tooth­brush design “have not changed since the times of the Egyp­tians and Babylonians—a han­dle to grip, and a bris­tle-like fea­ture with which to clean the teeth.” And not only did ancient peo­ple use tooth­brush­es, but it is believed that “Egyp­tians… start­ed using a paste to clean their teeth around 5000 BC,” even before tooth­brush­es were invent­ed.

In 2003, cura­tors at a Vien­nese muse­um dis­cov­ered “the world’s old­est-known for­mu­la for tooth­paste,” writes Irene Zoech in The Tele­graph, “used more than 1,500 years before Col­gate began mar­ket­ing the first com­mer­cial brand in 1873.” Dat­ing from the 4th cen­tu­ry AD, the Egypt­ian papyrus (not shown above), writ­ten in Greek, describes a “pow­der for white and per­fect teeth” that, when mixed with sali­va, makes a “clean tooth paste.” The recipe is as fol­lows, Zoech sum­ma­rizes: “…one drach­ma of rock salt—measure equal to one hun­dredth of an ounce—two drach­mas of mint, one drach­ma of dried iris flower and 20 grains of pep­per, all of them crushed and mixed togeth­er.”

Zoech quotes Den­tist Heinz Neu­man, who remarked, “Nobody in the den­tal pro­fes­sion had any idea that such an advanced tooth­paste for­mu­la of this antiq­ui­ty exist­ed.” Hav­ing tried the ancient recipe at a den­tal con­fer­ence in Aus­tria, he found it “not unpleas­ant”

It was painful on my gums and made them bleed as well, but that’s not a bad thing, and after­wards my mouth felt fresh and clean. I believe that this recipe would have been a big improve­ment on some of the soap tooth­pastes used much lat­er.

Dis­cov­ered among “the largest col­lec­tion of ancient Egypt­ian doc­u­ments in the world,” the doc­u­ment, says Her­mann Har­rauer, head of the papyrus col­lec­tion at the Nation­al Library in Vien­na, “was writ­ten by some­one who’s obvi­ous­ly had some med­ical knowl­edge, as he used abbre­vi­a­tions for med­ical terms.”

When we sur­vey the den­tal reme­dies of Medieval Eng­land, we do indeed find that mod­ern den­tal care is far bet­ter than much of what was avail­able then. Most den­tal cures of the time, writes Trevor Ander­son in a Nature arti­cle, “were based on herbal reme­dies, charms and amulets.” For exam­ple, in the 1314 Rosa Angli­ca, writer John of Gad­des­den reports, “some say that the beak of a mag­pie hung from the neck cures pain in the teeth.” Anoth­er rem­e­dy involves stick­ing a nee­dle into a “many foot­ed worm which rolls up in a ball when you touch it.” Touch the aching tooth with that roly-poly nee­dle and “the pain will be erased.”

How­ev­er, “there is also doc­u­men­tary evi­dence,” writes Ander­son, “for pow­ders to clean teeth and attempts at fill­ing car­i­ous cav­i­ties,” as well as some sur­gi­cal inter­ven­tion. In Gilber­tus Angli­cus’ 13th cen­tu­ry Com­pendi­um of Med­i­cine, read­ers are told to rub teeth and gums with cloth after eat­ing to ensure that “no cor­rupt mat­ter abides among the teeth.” In The Tro­tu­la—a com­pendi­um of folk reme­dies from the 11th or 12th century—we find many recipes for what we might con­sid­er tooth­paste, though their effi­ca­cy is dubi­ous. Danièle Cybul­skie at Medievalists.net quotes one recipe “for black teeth”:

…take wal­nut shells well cleaned of the inte­ri­or rind, which is green, and… rub the teeth three times a day, and when they have been well rubbed… wash the mouth with warm wine, and with salt mixed if desired.

Anoth­er, more extrav­a­gant, recipe sounds imprac­ti­cal.

Take burnt white mar­ble and burnt date pits, and white natron, a red tile, salt, and pumice. From all of these make a pow­der in which damp wool has been wrapped in a fine linen cloth. Rub the teeth inside and out.

Yet a third recipe gives us a lux­u­ry vari­ety, its ingre­di­ents well out of reach of the aver­age per­son. We are assured, how­ev­er, that this for­mu­la “works the best.”

Take some each of cin­na­mon, clove, spike­nard, mas­tic, frank­in­cense, grain, worm­wood, crab foot, date pits, and olives. Grind all of these and reduce them to a pow­der, then rub the affect­ed places.

Whether any of these for­mu­las would have worked at all, I can­not say, but they like­ly worked bet­ter than charms and amulets. In any case, while medieval Euro­pean texts tend to con­firm cer­tain of our ideas about poor den­tal hygiene of the past, it seems that the dai­ly prac­tices of more ancient peo­ples in Egypt and else­where might have been much more like our own than we would sus­pect.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2016.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Why the Ancient Romans Had Bet­ter Teeth Than Mod­ern Euro­peans

Who Real­ly Built the Egypt­ian Pyramids—And How Did They Do It?

Dis­cov­er the Old­est Beer Recipe in His­to­ry From Ancient Sume­ria, 1800 B.C.

An Ancient Egypt­ian Home­work Assign­ment from 1800 Years Ago: Some Things Are Tru­ly Time­less

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. 

The $666 Board That Built Apple: How the Apple I Changed Computing 50 Years Ago

Amer­i­cans of a cer­tain age may well remem­ber grow­ing up with an Apple II in the class­room, and the per­pet­u­al temp­ta­tion it held out to play The Ore­gon Trail, Num­ber Munch­ers, or per­haps Lode Run­ner. More than a few recess gamers went on to com­put­er-ori­ent­ed careers, but only the most curi­ous sought an answer to the ques­tion implied in the machine’s name: was there an Apple I? Half a cen­tu­ry after the foun­da­tion of Apple, Inc., then known as Apple Com­put­er, the prod­uct that launched what’s now one of the world’s most valu­able com­pa­nies remains very much an obscu­ri­ty. Unless you fre­quent com­put­er muse­ums, you’re unlike­ly ever to have laid eyes on an Apple I, let alone used one. Even if one of the exist­ing mod­els were to come on the mar­ket, you’d need about half a mil­lion dol­lars to buy it.

It’s actu­al­ly eas­i­er to buy the parts that went into an Apple I and build it your­self — which, as demon­strat­ed by the 8‑Bit Guy in the video above, still isn’t easy at all. Yet it does con­vey some­thing of what Apple’s very first cus­tomers would have expe­ri­enced in 1976, when do-it-your­self was the order of the day in com­put­ing.

When I bought the Mac­Book on which I’m writ­ing this post, I sim­ply opened it up and, nat­u­ral­ly, found it ready to use. That would scarce­ly have been imag­in­able to com­put­er enthu­si­asts of the mid-sev­en­ties, accus­tomed as they were to sol­der­ing indi­vid­u­al­ly pur­chased chips onto elec­tron­ics boards by hand. The Apple I marked a great leap for­ward in con­ve­nience by com­ing already assem­bled, albeit with­out a mon­i­tor, a key­board, or even a case; the pur­chase price of USD $666.66 (clos­er to $4,000 today) just got you the board. But what a board.

Though we remem­ber Steve Jobs as the mas­ter­mind, the Apple I is a tour de force of the engi­neer­ing genius of his busi­ness part­ner Steve Woz­ni­ak. When the Steves debuted it at the Home­brew Com­put­er Club in July of 1976, the rel­a­tive­ly small num­ber of chips and advanced func­tions (BASIC pro­gram­ming! Cas­sette-tape data stor­age! Actu­al video out­put, if only of tele­type-like scrolling text!) cre­at­ed a con­sid­er­able demand then and there. We often hear of Jobs and Woz­ni­ak start­ing Apple in a garage, and it was in that garage (as well as the house­’s liv­ing room) that the first Apple I boards were put togeth­er. Ulti­mate­ly, 200 were sold before the Apple II arrived the fol­low­ing year. Apple’s first com­put­er may look intim­i­dat­ing to most of today’s Mac users. But con­sid­er the com­pa­ny’s rep­u­ta­tion for min­i­mal­ism, acces­si­bil­i­ty, and a knack for cap­tur­ing the con­sumer’s imag­i­na­tion: all qual­i­ties present on that board 50 years ago.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Rid­ley Scott on the Mak­ing of Apple’s Icon­ic “1984” Com­mer­cial, Aired on Super Bowl Sun­day in 1984

Before The Simp­sons, Matt Groen­ing Illus­trat­ed a “Student’s Guide” for Apple Com­put­ers (1989)

Hunter S. Thompson’s Edgy 1990s Com­mer­cial for Apple’s Mac­in­tosh Com­put­er: A Med­i­ta­tion on Pow­er

Dis­cov­ered: The User Man­u­al for the Old­est Sur­viv­ing Com­put­er in the World

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

A Newly Discovered Recording Lets You Hear Delta Blues Legend Robert Johnson in Stunning Clarity

Great swathes of rock music since the nine­teen-six­ties would nev­er have exist­ed, we’re some­times told, were it not for the record­ings of Robert John­son. Cer­tain­ly the likes of Kei­th Richards, Eric Clap­ton, Robert Plant, and Bob Dylan have nev­er hes­i­tat­ed to acknowl­edge his influ­ence. “From the first note the vibra­tions from the loud­speak­er made my hair stand up,” Dylan writes in his auto­bi­og­ra­phy of his first encounter with John­son’s music. “The stab­bing sounds from the gui­tar could almost break a win­dow. When John­son start­ed singing, he seemed like a guy who could have sprung from the head of Zeus in full armor. I imme­di­ate­ly dif­fer­en­ti­at­ed between him and any­one else I had ever heard.” Not bad for a record­ing old­er than Dylan him­self.

In the ear­ly nine­teen-six­ties, the blues as John­son played it seems to have sound­ed elec­tri­fy­ing­ly rev­e­la­to­ry to the gen­er­a­tion of then-young musi­cians who man­aged to hear it, regard­less of their own ori­gins. All such record­ings date from 1936 or 1937, the fruits of just two ses­sions in makeshift Texas stu­dios over­seen by pro­duc­er Don Law.

Though the “king of the Delta blues singers” left behind only this small body of work after his still-unex­plained death at the age of 27, it’s been end­less­ly scru­ti­nized by the gen­re’s enthu­si­asts. All of them will sure­ly regard as a god­send the new­ly dis­cov­ered shel­lac mas­ter test press­ing above of “Cross Road Blues,” a song that plays an out­sized part in the leg­end of Robert John­son, who some say sold his soul to the dev­il at just such a loca­tion in exchange for his for­mi­da­ble gui­tar skills.

Though it con­tains no ref­er­ence to any such unholy pact, nor to any denizen of the under­world, “Cross Road Blues” does have a haunt­ing sound that goes with the shad­owy ambi­ence of the man’s short life sto­ry. Some of that had to do with the less-than-ide­al qual­i­ty of the record­ings that have long cir­cu­lat­ed, but this test press­ing of John­son’s sec­ond take sounds dif­fer­ent. Uploaded by sound restor­er Nick Del­low, it was orig­i­nal­ly made in 1940 straight from the met­al mas­ter by Colum­bia Records pro­duc­er George Avakian, who would go on to work with every­one from Miles Davis to Edith Piaf to John Cage. The son­ic mud­di­ness of most Robert John­son releas­es thus far has done its part to pre­vent mod­ern-day lis­ten­ers from get­ting quite what the big deal was about him. But per­haps the unprece­dent­ed clar­i­ty of this record­ing will get the hair of young musi­cians and mature con­nois­seurs alike stand­ing on end.

via Ted Gioia

Relat­ed con­tent:

Kei­th Richards Shows Us How to Play the Blues, Inspired by Robert John­son, on the Acoustic Gui­tar

Cov­er­ing Robert Johnson’s Blues Became a Rite of Rock ‘n’ Roll Pas­sage: Hear Cov­ers by The Rolling Stones, Eric Clap­ton, Howl­in’ Wolf, Lucin­da Williams & More

Robert John­son Final­ly Gets an Obit­u­ary in The New York Times 81 Years After His Death

Jimi Hen­drix Plays the Delta Blues on a 12-String Acoustic Gui­tar in 1968, and Jams with His Blues Idols, Bud­dy Guy & B.B. King

The Leg­end of How Blues­man Robert John­son Sold His Soul to the Dev­il at the Cross­roads

A Brief His­to­ry of Mak­ing Deals with the Dev­il: Nic­colò Pagani­ni, Robert John­son, Jim­my Page & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

9 Things a Woman Couldn’t Do in 1971

More than a cen­tu­ry after women’s suf­frage in the Unit­ed States, it’s not enough to bone up on the plat­forms of female pri­ma­ry can­di­dates (though that’s an excel­lent start).

A Twit­ter user and self-described Old Crone named Robyn urged her fel­low Amer­i­cans to take a good long gan­der at a list of nine free­doms that women in the Unit­ed States were not uni­ver­sal­ly grant­ed in 1971, the year Helen Red­dy released the soon-to-be anthem, “I Am Woman,” above.

Even those of us who remem­ber singing along as chil­dren may expe­ri­ence some shock that these facts check out on Snopes.

  1. CREDIT CARDS: Pri­or to the Equal Cred­it Oppor­tu­ni­ty Act of 1974, mar­ried women couldn’t get cred­it cards with­out their hus­bands’ sig­na­tures. Sin­gle women, divorcees, and wid­ows were often required to have a man co-sign. The dou­ble stan­dard also meant female appli­cants were fre­quent­ly issued card lim­its up to 50% low­er than that of males who earned iden­ti­cal wages.
  2. PREGNANT WORKERS: The Preg­nan­cy Dis­crim­i­na­tion Act of 1978 pro­tect­ed preg­nant women from being fired because of their impend­ing mater­ni­ty. But it came with a major loop­hole that’s still in need of clos­ing. The lan­guage of the law stip­u­lates that employ­ers must accom­mo­date preg­nant work­ers only if con­ces­sions are being made for oth­er employ­ees who are “sim­i­lar in their abil­i­ty or inabil­i­ty to work.”
  3. JURY DUTY: In 1975, the Supreme Court declared it con­sti­tu­tion­al­ly unac­cept­able for states to deny women the oppor­tu­ni­ty to serve on juries. This is an are­na where we’ve all come a long way, baby. It’s now com­plete­ly nor­mal for men to be excused from jury duty as the pri­ma­ry care­givers of their young chil­dren.
  4. MILITARY COMBAT: In 2013, for­mer Sec­re­tary of Defense Leon Panet­ta and for­mer Chair­man of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Gen­er­al Mar­tin Dempsey announced that the Pen­ta­gon was rescind­ing the direct com­bat exclu­sion rule that barred women from serv­ing in artillery, armor, infantry and oth­er such bat­tle roles. At the time of the announce­ment, the mil­i­tary had already seen more than 130 female sol­diers killed, and 800 wound­ed on the front lines in Iraq and Afghanistan.
  5. IVY LEAGUE ADMISSIONS: Those who con­ceive of elite col­leges as breed­ing grounds for sex­u­al assault protests and Title IX activism would do well to remem­ber that Colum­bia Col­lege didn’t admit women until 1983, fol­low­ing in the mar­gin­al­ly deep­er foot­steps of oth­ers in the Ivy League—Harvard (1977), Dart­mouth (1972), Brown (1971), Yale (1969), and Prince­ton (1969). These days, sin­gle-sex high­er edu­ca­tion options for women far out­num­ber those for men, but the net­work­ing pow­er and increased earn­ing poten­tial an Ivy League degree con­fers remain the same.
  6. WORKPLACE HARASSMENT: In 1977, women who’d been sex­u­al­ly harassed in the work­place received con­fir­ma­tion in three sep­a­rate tri­als that they could sue their employ­ers under Title VII of the 1964 Civ­il Rights Act. In 1998, the Supreme Court ruled that same-sex harass­ment was also unlaw­ful. In between was the tele­vi­sion event of 1991, Ani­ta Hill’s shock­ing tes­ti­mo­ny against her for­mer boss, U.S. Supreme Court jus­tice (then nom­i­nee) Clarence Thomas.
  7. SPOUSAL CONSENT: In 1993, spousal rape was offi­cial­ly out­lawed in all 50 states. Not tonight hon­ey, or you’ll have a headache in the form of your wife’s legal back­up.
  8. HEALTH INSURANCE: In 2010, the Patient Pro­tec­tion and Afford­able Care Act decreed that any health insur­ance plan estab­lished after March of that year could not charge women high­er pre­mi­ums than men for iden­ti­cal ben­e­fits. This was bad news for women who got their health insur­ance through their jobs, and whose employ­ers were grand­fa­thered into dis­crim­i­na­to­ry plans estab­lished pri­or to 2010. Of course, that’s all ancient his­to­ry now.
  9. CONTRACEPTIVES: In 1972, the Supreme Court made it legal for all cit­i­zens to pos­sess birth con­trol, irre­spec­tive of mar­i­tal sta­tus, stat­ing “if the right of pri­va­cy means any­thing, it is the right of the indi­vid­ual, mar­ried or sin­gle, to be free from unwar­rant­ed gov­ern­men­tal intru­sion into mat­ters so fun­da­men­tal­ly affect­ing a per­son as the deci­sion whether to bear or beget a child.” (It’s worth not­ing, how­ev­er, that in 1972, states could still con­sti­tu­tion­al­ly pro­hib­it and pun­ish sex out­side of mar­riage.)

Fem­i­nism is NOT just for oth­er women.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2019.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

No Women Need Apply: A Dis­heart­en­ing 1938 Rejec­tion Let­ter from Dis­ney Ani­ma­tion

How the Bicy­cle Accel­er­at­ed the Women’s Rights Move­ment (Cir­ca 1890)

Odd Vin­tage Post­cards Doc­u­ment the Pro­pa­gan­da Against Women’s Rights 100 Years Ago

The Library of Con­gress Dig­i­tizes Over 16,000 Pages of Let­ters & Speech­es from the Women’s Suf­frage Move­ment, and You Can Help Tran­scribe Them

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and the­ater mak­er in NYC.

The Self-Balancing Monorail: A 1910 Train That Could Balance Without Falling

If mono­rails have a bad name, The Simp­sons may be to blame. In an episode acclaimed for its hilar­i­ous­ness since it first aired 33 years ago, a huck­ster shows up in Spring­field and con­vinces the town to build just such a tran­sit sys­tem, which turns out to be not just sus­pi­cious­ly unnec­es­sary (at least in young Lisa’s judg­ment) but also dan­ger­ous­ly shod­dy. I watched it while grow­ing up in the sub­urbs of Seat­tle, a city that endured bit­ter­ly pro­tract­ed con­tention over whether or not to build out its own rudi­men­ta­ry mono­rail sys­tem — a World’s Fair arti­fact, like the Space Nee­dle — but final­ly opt­ed not to. Con­cerns were per­pet­u­al­ly raised, right­ly or wrong­ly, about the noise and dark­ness that could result from extend­ing the wide ele­vat­ed track on which it ran.

But what if there were anoth­er way to build a mono­rail? Indeed, what if it could run on the ground, like a tra­di­tion­al two-railed train? Such was the idea in the head of the inde­fati­ga­ble Irish-Aus­tralian engi­neer Louis Bren­nan, who’s remem­bered today for invent­ing a wire-guid­ed tor­pe­do back in 1877.

If things had gone dif­fer­ent­ly, maybe he’d be bet­ter remem­bered for invent­ing the gyro mono­rail, the sub­ject of the Pri­mal Space video above. In Bren­nan’s design, which he actu­al­ly got built and work­ing, the car bal­ances on a sin­gle rail with the aid of a pair of spin­ning pow­ered gyro­scopes that pre­vent it from falling over (and, in the case of pow­er loss, could keep spin­ning for half an hour to allow a safe evac­u­a­tion), allow­ing it to run faster and cor­ner more tight­ly than the trains the world knew.

Bren­nan’s gyro mono­rail made its pub­lic debut at the Japan-British Exhi­bi­tion in Lon­don in 1910, giv­ing 50 pas­sen­gers at a time the oppor­tu­ni­ty to ride around in a cir­cle at 20 miles per hour. Though the inter­est it drew inspired a minor boom of gyro-sta­bi­lized chil­dren’s toys, it nev­er actu­al­ly trans­lat­ed into a real tran­sit sys­tem. Around the same time, a group in Ger­many also unveiled their own ver­sion, and in the decades there­after, addi­tion­al abortive efforts were made in Rus­sia. The engi­neer­ing involved was impres­sive, as the video explains, but also a bit too com­pli­cat­ed and expen­sive for its time. The devel­op­ment of a new Ger­man app-ordered autonomous gyro mono­rail sys­tem was announced just a few years ago. Giv­en the pos­si­bil­i­ty of its enter­ing pro­duc­tion as soon as 2032, we could soon be hear­ing cho­rus­es of “Mono­rail, mono­rail, mono­rail” — or rather, “Mono­cab, Mono­cab, Mono­cab” — once again.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Trips on the World’s Old­est Elec­tric Sus­pen­sion Rail­way in 1902 & 2015 Show How a City Changes Over a Cen­tu­ry

Paris Had a Mov­ing Side­walk in 1900, and a Thomas Edi­son Film Cap­tured It in Action

A Sub­way Ride Through New York City: Watch Vin­tage Footage from 1905

Why Pub­lic Tran­sit Sucks in the Unit­ed States: Four Videos Tell the Sto­ry

A Har­row­ing Test Dri­ve of Buck­min­ster Fuller’s 1933 Dymax­ion Car: Art That Is Scary to Ride

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

How the CIA Secretly Funded Abstract Expressionism During the Cold War


Con­sid­er­ing the pos­si­bil­i­ty of a tru­ly pro­le­tar­i­an art, the great Eng­lish lit­er­ary crit­ic William Emp­son once wrote, “the rea­son an Eng­lish audi­ence can enjoy Russ­ian pro­pa­gan­dist films is that the pro­pa­gan­da is too remote to be annoy­ing.” Per­haps this is why Amer­i­can artists and bohemi­ans have so often tak­en to the polit­i­cal iconog­ra­phy of far-flung regimes, in ways both roman­tic and iron­ic. One nation’s tedious social­ist real­ism is another’s rad­i­cal exot­i­ca.

But do U.S. cul­tur­al exports have the same effect? One need only look at the suc­cess of our most banal brand­ing over­seas to answer in the affir­ma­tive. Yet no one would think to add Abstract Expres­sion­ist paint­ing to a list that includes fast food and Walt Dis­ney prod­ucts.

Nev­er­the­less, the work of such artists as Jack­son Pol­lock, Mark Rothko, and Willem de Koon­ing wound up as part of a secret CIA pro­gram dur­ing the height of the Cold War, aimed at pro­mot­ing Amer­i­can ideals abroad.

The artists them­selves were com­plete­ly unaware that their work was being used as pro­pa­gan­da. On what agents called a “long leash,” they par­tic­i­pat­ed in sev­er­al exhi­bi­tions secret­ly orga­nized by the CIA, such as “The New Amer­i­can Paint­ing” (see cat­a­log cov­er at top), which vis­it­ed major Euro­pean cities in 1958–59 and includ­ed such mod­ern prim­i­tive works as sur­re­al­ist William Baziotes’ 1947 Dwarf (below) and 1951’s Tour­na­ment by Adolph Got­tlieb above.

Of course what seems most bizarre about this turn of events is that avant-garde art in Amer­i­ca has nev­er been much appre­ci­at­ed by the aver­age cit­i­zen, to put it mild­ly. Amer­i­can Main Streets har­bor under­cur­rents of dis­trust or out­right hatred for out-there, art-world exper­i­men­ta­tion, a trend that fil­ters upward and peri­od­i­cal­ly erupts in con­tro­ver­sies over Con­gres­sion­al fund­ing for the arts. A 1995 Inde­pen­dent arti­cle on the CIA’s role in pro­mot­ing Abstract Expres­sion­ism describes these atti­tudes dur­ing the Cold War peri­od:

In the 1950s and 1960s… the great major­i­ty of Amer­i­cans dis­liked or even despised mod­ern art—President Tru­man summed up the pop­u­lar view when he said: “If that’s art, then I’m a Hot­ten­tot.” As for the artists them­selves, many were ex- com­mu­nists bare­ly accept­able in the Amer­i­ca of the McCarthyite era, and cer­tain­ly not the sort of peo­ple nor­mal­ly like­ly to receive US gov­ern­ment back­ing.

Why, then, did they receive such back­ing? One short answer:

This philis­tin­ism, com­bined with Joseph McCarthy’s hys­ter­i­cal denun­ci­a­tions of all that was avant-garde or unortho­dox, was deeply embar­rass­ing. It dis­cred­it­ed the idea that Amer­i­ca was a sophis­ti­cat­ed, cul­tur­al­ly rich democ­ra­cy.

The one-way rela­tion­ship between mod­ernist painters and the CIA—only recent­ly con­firmed by for­mer case offi­cer Don­ald Jameson—supposedly enabled the agency to make the work of Sovi­et Social­ist Real­ists appear, in Jameson’s words, “even more styl­ized and more rigid and con­fined than it was.” (See Evdokiya Usikova’s 1959 Lenin with Vil­lagers below, for exam­ple). For a longer expla­na­tion, read the full arti­cle at The Inde­pen­dent. It’s the kind of sto­ry Don DeLil­lo would cook up.

 

William Emp­son goes on to say that “a Tory audi­ence sub­ject­ed to Tory pro­pa­gan­da of the same inten­si­ty” as Russ­ian imports, “would be extreme­ly bored.” If he is cor­rect, it’s like­ly that the aver­age true believ­er social­ist in Europe was already bored sil­ly by Sovi­et-approved art. What sur­pris­es in these rev­e­la­tions is that the avant-garde works that so rad­i­cal­ly altered the Amer­i­can art world and enraged the aver­age con­gress­man and tax­pay­er were co-opt­ed and col­lect­ed by suave U.S. intel­li­gence offi­cers like so many Shep­ard Fairey posters.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2013.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

When the State Depart­ment Used Dizzy Gille­spie and Jazz to Fight the Cold War (1956)

Dis­cov­er the CIA’s Sim­ple Sab­o­tage Field Man­u­al: A Time­less Guide to Sub­vert­ing Any Orga­ni­za­tion with “Pur­pose­ful Stu­pid­i­ty” (1944)

How “America’s First Drug Czar” Waged War Against Bil­lie Hol­i­day and Oth­er Jazz Leg­ends

How the CIA Secret­ly Used Jack­son Pol­lock & Oth­er Abstract Expres­sion­ists to Fight the Cold War

The CIA’s Style Man­u­al & Writer’s Guide: 185 Pages of Tips for Writ­ing Like a Spook

How the CIA Fund­ed & Sup­port­ed Lit­er­ary Mag­a­zines World­wide While Wag­ing Cul­tur­al War Against Com­mu­nism

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. 

How a Clean, Tidy Home Can Help You Survive the Atomic Bomb: A Cold War Film from 1954


Not too far back, we revis­it­ed some Cold War pro­pa­gan­da that taught upstand­ing Amer­i­can cit­i­zens How to Spot a Com­mu­nist Using Lit­er­ary Crit­i­cism. It’s a gem, but it has noth­ing on the 1954 film, The House in the Mid­dle. Select­ed for preser­va­tion in the Nation­al Film Reg­istry by the Library of Con­gress, the short doc­u­men­tary makes the ulti­mate case for clean­li­ness. Bring­ing view­ers to the Neva­da Prov­ing Grounds, the 12-minute film shows what hap­pens when clean, white hous­es are sub­ject­ed to heat waves from an atom­ic blast, ver­sus what hap­pens when a dingy, ill-kept house goes through the same drill. It turns out that neat peo­ple can not only claim moral vic­to­ry (as they always do). They also get to live anoth­er day. Con­sid­er it proof of the sur­vival of the tidi­est.

The film was pro­duced by the Nation­al Clean Up-Paint Up-Fix Up Bureau with sup­port from the Fed­er­al Civ­il Defense Admin­is­tra­tion. The Nation­al Paint, Var­nish and Lac­quer Asso­ci­a­tion also appar­ent­ly played a role, sug­gest­ing that cor­po­rate inter­ests were cap­i­tal­iz­ing on wartime fear. Not the first time that’s hap­pened in Amer­i­ca. Or that last…

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2013.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Ducked and Cov­ered: A Sur­vival Guide to the Post Apoc­a­lypse (A Lit­tle NSFW)

How to Spot a Com­mu­nist by Using Lit­er­ary Crit­i­cism: A 1955 Man­u­al from the U.S. Mil­i­tary

Ani­mat­ed Films Made Dur­ing the Cold War Explain Why Amer­i­ca is Excep­tion­al­ly Excep­tion­al

The Red Men­ace: A Strik­ing Gallery of Anti-Com­mu­nist Posters, Ads, Com­ic Books, Mag­a­zines & Films

Watch “Don’t Be a Suck­er!,” the 1947 US Gov­ern­ment Anti-Hatred Film That’s Rel­e­vant All Over Again

How Dis­ney Fought Fas­cism with Pro­pa­gan­da Car­toons Dur­ing World War II & Avert­ed Finan­cial Col­lapse

Watch the Titanic and Lusitania Sink in Real Time: One Fast, One Slow

Asked to name famous ship­wrecks at a bar triv­ia night, a fair few par­tic­i­pants might think imme­di­ate­ly of Pearl Har­bor, whether or not they can recall that it was the USS Ari­zona bombed there. More firm­ly with­in liv­ing mem­o­ry sits the SS Andrea Doria, though she’s hard­ly the cul­tur­al ref­er­ence she used to be. The wreck of the SS Edmund Fitzger­ald passed its fifti­eth anniver­sary just last year, which gave a boost to its remem­brance, if most­ly by Gor­don Light­foot fans. There is, of course, the Endurance, though the ship her­self has always been over­shad­owed by the efforts of her cap­tain to get the whole crew home alive. The schooner Hes­pe­rus does come to mind as a par­tic­u­lar­ly unfor­tu­nate ves­sel, per­haps all the more so because she did­n’t actu­al­ly exist.

Near­ly every­one at the bar is, of course, going to put down the RMS Titan­ic first. Even before she received the James Cameron treat­ment, that “unsink­able” ocean lin­er was eas­i­ly the most famous ship­wreck of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, and quite pos­si­bly of all his­to­ry. But sec­ond place has to go to the RMS Lusi­ta­nia, which went under just three years after the Titan­ic. As close as the year 1915 may sound to 1912, devel­op­ments in Europe had rearranged the world in the mean­time. The Titan­ic met her end by col­lid­ing with an ice­berg, and about two and a half hours lat­er, as you can see in the real-time sink­ing video at the top of the post, it was on the bot­tom of the North Atlantic. When the Lusi­ta­nia was tor­pe­doed by a Ger­man U‑boat, by con­trast, she went down in just eigh­teen min­utes.

You can wit­ness those min­utes re-cre­at­ed in the ani­mat­ed video from Ocean­lin­er Designs just above. Though the Great War was rag­ing, the ship had­n’t yet been com­mis­sioned as an armed mer­chant cruis­er, but was con­duct­ing her usu­al transat­lantic pas­sen­ger ser­vice while — as the Ger­man side insist­ed and the British at first denied — car­ry­ing war mate­ri­als on the side. She’d been trav­el­ing due east for six days when U‑20 sight­ed her; after an hour of track­ing came the launch of the fate­ful under­wa­ter mis­sile and its 160-kilo­gram explo­sive pay­load. The video shows and explains not just how the Lusi­ta­nia slipped below the water, but also the break­down along the way of her var­i­ous struc­tur­al ele­ments and mechan­i­cal sys­tems, includ­ing the ele­va­tors that had once seemed such mar­velous inno­va­tions.

It seems that after the tor­pe­do hit, prac­ti­cal­ly every­thing that could have con­se­quent­ly gone wrong did, right down to the few deploy­able lifeboats drop­ping cat­a­stroph­i­cal­ly from their davits. The crew of the Titan­ic man­aged to launch most of her lifeboats, but there weren’t enough of them in the first place. That con­tributed to a final death toll of around 1,500, as com­pared with 1,197 on the Lusi­ta­nia. Though sim­i­lar in scale and his­tor­i­cal tim­ing, these two mar­itime dis­as­ters end­ed up with very dif­fer­ent mean­ings. The wreck of the Titan­ic con­tin­ues to cap­ture imag­i­na­tions by res­onat­ing with the indus­tri­al romance, class strat­i­fi­ca­tion, and impe­r­i­al hubris of the long nine­teenth cen­tu­ry; that of the Lusi­ta­nia, whose sink­ing played a major role in bring­ing the Unit­ed States into what we now call World War I, shows us noth­ing so clear­ly as the mer­ci­less geopo­lit­i­cal log­ic of the twen­ti­eth.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Watch the Sink­ing of the Lusi­ta­nia Ani­mat­ed in Real Time (1915)

How James Cameron Shot Titan­ic’s Huge­ly Com­plex Sink­ing Scene

The Sink­ing of the Bri­tan­nic: An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to the Titanic’s For­got­ten Sis­ter Ship

The Cos­ta Con­cor­dia Ship­wreck Viewed from Out­er Space

The First Full 3D Scan of the Titan­ic, Made of More Than 700,000 Images Cap­tur­ing the Wreck’s Every Detail

A New 3D Scan, Cre­at­ed from 25,000 High-Res­o­lu­tion Images, Reveals the Remark­ably Well-Pre­served Wreck of Shackleton’s Endurance

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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