“Following the Victors”? Uncertainties in Defining the Societal Influence of Ethnological Knowledge in Wartime Finland, 1941–1944

Abstract: The article discusses methodological uncertainties regarding the role of Finnish ethnologists during the Continuation War (1941–1944) in the context of the history of knowledge and propaganda. The focus is on researchers’ relationship with the so-called Greater Finland ideology and their values and choices during the war. A collection of non-scientific articles based on ethnological knowledge reveals the societal influence ethnologists had at the time yet raises uncertainties about the motives and aims behind the writings. The articles are enthusiastic, practical, and prone to kinship ideology and criticism of Bolshevism. However, defining the nature of societal influence remains uncertain.

Keywords: Finland; ethnology; societal influence; propaganda; Greater Finland; Second World War; history of knowledge

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Introduction

In the 1930s and during the Second World War, the idea of a Greater Finland was strong among many academics and politicians in Finland. The Greater Finland ideology meant that the country could and should expand east to gain strategic economic and military advantages and unite the Finno-Ugric people of Karelia with their kin, the Finns. In the early stages of the so-called Continuation War¹ between Finland and the Soviet Union (1941–1944), Finnish troops, in alliance with German soldiers, quickly occupied areas that Finland had lost in the Winter War of 1939–1940, as well as East Karelia. Greater Finland became a reality for some years. Researchers soon followed the troops, and a wealth of research was conducted in various fields, including ethnology, in the occupied areas during the war. The research was done not only to satisfy scientific but also political interests. Political decision-makers felt that ethnology, a discipline devoted to studying and building a history of the Finno-Ugric peoples and related notions of Finnishness, could be useful for justifying the Greater Finland ideology and claimed that the occupied territories were historically Finnish. It was also a field of study that interested the general public, especially the educated population and academic circles (e.g., Eskelinen 2004; Pimiä 2007, 13–15). This combination made ethnologists important players in the social debates surrounding the Greater Finland ideology.

Karelia is a large area to the east of Finland, part of which has belonged to Finland and part to Russia. The newly independent Finland and Soviet Russia argued over the territory of the so-called East Karelia for several years until the Tartu Peace Treaty of 1920 left it to Soviet Russia, which was widely considered an injustice in Finland. East Karelia had long interested Finnish researchers, artists, and nationalists. Karelian, Finnish, and Ingrian oral poetry, which served as the source material for the Finnish national epic Kalevala (1835, 1849), were collected in the nineteenth century in Karelia, on both sides of Finland’s eastern border (e.g., Piela 2023; Sihvo 2017; Wilson 1976). Finnish ethnology also has a long tradition of studying the Finno-Ugric peoples, such as the Karelians, who live in Russian territory. Finland’s independence from Russia and the closing of the border made this line of research impossible in the interwar period, which prompted ethnologists to turn their attention to research in the Finnish region (e.g., Räsänen, R 1992. 113–15). With the Continuation War, the opportunity arose again to continue studying the kindred peoples to the east.

Ethnological research in Finland during the Continuation War focused mainly on East Karelia (e.g., Pimiä 2009, 2012). All research involving the occupied region of East Karelia was coordinated, controlled, and partly funded by the State Scientific East Karelia Committee, which had been established by the Ministry of Education. The agenda of the State Scientific East Karelia Committee was to direct research in East Karelia in a way that would support Finland’s claims to the historical Finnishness of the area and, thus, the fact that it belonged to Finland. The committee’s research funding was strategic and politically driven (Laine 1993, 104–12). However, little research has been done to the extent to which the committee dictated the message and tone of the popular research articles from the field. The point is not trivial since it pertains to what aspects of the research are communicated to people outside the research community, how it is done, and how the role and status of the researcher are used in societal debates. Furthermore, the wartime conditions blurred the line between societal influence, science communication, and exerting influence to promote a specific goal: propaganda.

The war brought many levels of uncertainty to the work of ethnologists: on a societal level, in terms of the aims of the discipline and careers of the researchers, and on a very personal level – working close to the front was often difficult and dangerous. One kind of uncertainty had to do with changes in the political agenda: attitudes towards the Soviet Union changed as the war progressed, from triumphalism to greater caution, reflected in the ethnologists’ work, for example, changing censorship guidelines. In this article, however, I focus on the methodological uncertainties, which become evident when exploring their wartime societal influence. By methodological uncertainty, I refer to the uncertainties arising from the analysis of the often-fragmented material that remains for research from that period. Focusing on non-scientific articles with an ethnological perspective published in Finnish newspapers and magazines during the Continuation War of 1941–1944 as a material form of knowledge sharing, I look for and experiment with ways to interpret ethnologists’ wartime societal influence. What kinds of societal values and choices are echoed in the articles, and what methodological uncertainties are inherent in their analysis? In my analysis, I focus on how researchers used ethnological knowledge to influence readers and how the texts possibly bolstered readers’ confidence in the legitimacy of the knowledge being presented. The researchers’ choices reflect how they navigated an uncertain situation in which they had to reconcile a possible conflict of interest between the pressures of political guidance and their values. Looking at this material from the 2020s perspective—although historically and theoretically contextualized—leaves room for variation of alternative interpretations, however.

Circulating Ethnological Knowledge

In applying viewpoints from a history of knowledge research, I am not only interested in the reliability of the knowledge(s) produced but also in the circles in which such knowledge(s) appear(s) as legitimate knowledge (Burke 2000, 13–16; Burke 2016; Myllyntausta 2023, 157–77). Knowledge and its influences are always linked to the people who use it and the geographical and metaphorical places where it is used (Livingstone 2003, 3–5). I use the concepts of “circulation” and “circles of knowledge” (Livingstone 2003, 3–16; Myllyntausta, Mäkilä and Skurnik 2023, 36–45) to provide insights into the dissemination and relevance of ethnological knowledge in society at the time. As James A. Secord puts it, it is important “to recognize that question of ‘what’ is being said can be answered only through a simultaneous understanding of ‘how’, ‘where’, ‘when’ and ‘for whom’” (Secord 2004, 663–64).

The circulation of knowledge is a dynamic process. The dynamic nature of the process also implies that information does not move unchanged but is instead always being adapted and weighed by recipients according to their knowledge base (Livingstone 2003, 3–5; Myllyntausta, Mäkilä and Skurnik 2023, 37). Analyzing the origins and producers of knowledge is thus important, as is understanding audiences and readerships (Secord 2004, 662). The circulation of knowledge concept is essentially concerned with arenas of public knowledge, with the places or domains where the circulation of knowledge occurs (Östling 2020, 120–23).

There are always several concurrent ways of knowing in a community (Burke 2000, 13–16; Gieryn 2018). Members of the same circle of knowledge share an understanding of the accepted methods and criteria for producing reliable knowledge. An actor may belong to numerous knowledge circles, some more closely than others. The concepts of circulation and circles of knowledge make it possible to explore the spread and use of knowledge: to whom knowledge was being disseminated is an indication of the motives of the disseminators. Regarding societal influence, uncertainty arises when the research material does not allow us to know how the knowledge was received, how it changed in the process, and what impact it ultimately had (Livingstone 2003, 3–5).

A researcher can access the circles of knowledge by, for example, examining material forms of knowledge, such as correspondence or newspaper articles, and their movements over time and space (Myllyntausta, Mäkilä and Skurnik 2023, 43–45; Secord 2004, 665). My material consists of articles from the collection of newspaper and magazine clippings on Finno-Ugric peoples held by the Finnish National Museum. The museum’s collection includes several folders of clippings on different Finno-Ugric peoples, such as Karelians, Ingrians, and Veps. The folder for East Karelia, the main focal area related to the Greater Finland discussion, includes clippings related to Karelians living in the Viena and Aunus regions of East Karelia.

Ethnologists in Finland produced a wide range of knowledge about East Karelia: they not only collected and shaped ethnological knowledge but also recorded their experiences and impressions (e.g., Helminen 2008 [1941], 91–94.). Ethnological knowledge was generated through the principal fieldwork methods of the day: interviews, observation, photographs, drawings, mapping, and the collecting of artifacts. During the war years, there were very few scientific publications in the field of ethnology. However, the role of the war in the paucity of publications is not as significant as one might think based on current perspectives: the pace of academic publication was much slower in the early twentieth century (e.g., Moosa 2018, 3–5). The ethnological knowledge gathered on East Karelia was communicated in non-scientific books and articles and later in scientific works, such as doctoral dissertations (e.g., Virtanen 1950). Non-ethnologists,² such as academics from related fields or military front-line correspondents, could also use ethnological knowledge in their writings.

One way of using and circulating knowledge is propaganda. Jowett and O’Donnel define propaganda as a “deliberate, systematic attempt to shape perceptions, manipulate cognitions, and direct behavior to achieve a response that furthers the desired intent of the propagandist” (2019, 6). To identify propaganda in the ethnologists’ texts, I have adopted the categories of black, grey, and white propaganda from communication studies. Propaganda can be divided into three categories depending on the veracity of its message and whether the sender is known. White propaganda is the most difficult to distinguish because it has a feeling of openness, directness, and transparency. White propaganda comes from an identifiable source, and the information is accurate yet selective. Black propaganda is easily identifiable because it uses false means. Grey propaganda is a hybrid of the two and probably the most common type. The classification is useful for assessing the aims of texts and the authors motives (Jowettand O’Donnell 2019, 17–26; Cull, Culbert and Welch 2003, 41–43, 151–53, 425–26).

Historian Antti Laine, who has studied wartime research done in East Karelia, suggests that researchers in the humanities differ from those in the natural sciences in that they published more general interest articles and opinion pieces and that “the writings often had a propagandistic tone” (Laine 1993, 195). However, the possible propagandistic nature of ethnological texts has not been studied in detail. Many Finnish ethnologists of the time have been presented in the work Pioneers – The History of Finnish Ethnology, but many of the portraits remain quite limited and selective, and the war years are often passed over with very little mention (Räsänen, M 1992; Pimiä 2009, 259–61). Several scholars touched upon the relationship between researchers, research, and propaganda in general (e.g., Pimiä 2012; Garberding 2015; Wolfe 2019; Wilson 1976). This study contributes to an understanding of ethnologists’ work and activities during the war years by critically focusing on the uncertainties in interpreting the researchers’ actions and choices.

Carefully Deposited Clippings—But by Whom?

In the research material, that is, the collection of newspaper and magazine articles held by the National Museum of Finland, the articles have been cut out of newspapers and magazines and glued onto concept papers. Some information in the clippings, such as page numbers, may have been lost. The oldest clipping in the East Karelia folder is from 1912, and the most recent is from 2006. The articles are marked on a list that continues into the 1990s. The list includes a total of 31 newspaper and magazine articles from the years 1941 to 1944. The collection is unlikely a complete collection of articles written in the years 1941–1944 since it does not, for example, include any clippings from leftist newspapers and only one from 1944; having searched through digital journal archives from the period, however, it does seem to contain a representative sample of articles published in the field of ethnology during the period. It includes contributions from several authors and different publications, highlighting the polyphonic nature of the circulation of knowledge.

The exact history of and method used to collect the clippings are uncertain. We do not know for certain who collected the clippings and for what purposes, but they were most probably members of the National Museum’s staff. Many similar organizations collected newspaper and magazine clippings related to their activities as a form of media monitoring at the time (on similar collections, see, e.g., Zintchenko 2003, 20–25). The existence of the collection provides an interesting example of circles of knowledge. The group of magazines and newspapers from which the clippings have been collected is extensive but selective, focusing on household and craft topics—perhaps bought or subscribed to by the collector(s). As such, it tells us what kind of knowledge was considered legitimate in one of the ethnological circles of knowledge but leaves us uncertain about the original purpose of the collection.

The material includes work by 17 authors, namely articles from 15 different newspapers and magazines. The greatest number of articles, nine each, are from Uusi Suomi[New Finland], one of the largest Finnish-language newspapers, and Suomen Kuvalehti[Finland’s pictorial]. This popular magazine covers, for example, current affairs, social phenomena, and also science. Surprisingly, only one article in the collection is from the other major newspaper, Helsingin Sanomat [Helsinki newspaper]—probably the collector of the clippings had favored the other competing newspaper, Uusi Suomi, over Helsingin Sanomat. The collection includes only one article published in the major Swedish-speaking newspaper Hufvudstadsbladet [Capital’s paper] (Approximately 10% of Finns spoke Swedish as their mother tongue in the 1940s. Today, the percentage is around 5%) and three articles from a popular women’s monthly magazine Kotiliesi [Home hearth]. The other publications included in the collection are three other Finnish newspapers with widespread distribution and Vapaa Karjala [Free Karelia], a propagandistic newspaper distributed especially in the occupied territory, as well as magazines related to the home, women’s life, and crafts. The collector(s) of the clippings may have either consciously or unconsciously made the decision not to include any left-wing or workers’ publications, such as Sosiaalidemokraatti [Social Democrat], or else just excluded them because they were not as widely available. The fact that most clippings are from specific newspapers indicates that the collection of clippings was a voluntary side activity rather than part of formal archival collection activities.

The magazine articles are generally long, spanning several pages. They often include photos taken by the author or, more commonly, by military information company photographers. The most popular topics in the articles are the general living conditions and means of livelihood in East Karelia as well as traditional Karelian buildings, such as the Karelian-style large, two-story, wooden farmhouses, which differed greatly from traditional houses in the rest of Finland. Women’s handicrafts, like ornate pieces of clothing or hand towels with embroidery, also received much attention from the writers. Local cultural events, such as praasniekat (village festivals honoring saints or other important days in the religious calendar) and other local customs were also popular topics. The articles also mention the local Orthodox religion – often “othered” in the eyes of Lutherans (e.g., Pimiä 2012, 400; Kananen 2010, 63–66).

The subject choices for the articles were usually essentially positive and often forward-looking: times might be difficult, but a better future awaits. The articles make no mention of the dangers and difficulties encountered by the researchers near the front, such as mines, enemy partisans behind the battle lines, or less successful encounters with the local population (e.g., Helminen 2008 [1941], 118; Pimiä 2009, 165). For example, it was not always easy for the Finnish-speaking ethnologists to understand the local dialects of Karelian, even though the languages spoken in the region are related to Finnish. Locals may also have been suspicious of or even hostile towards Finns because not everyone saw the Finns as liberators, based on official Finnish portrayals to locals, but rather as conquerors (Pimiä 2009, 160–65). The Karelians may also have been offended by, for example, the researchers comparing the Finns and Karelians. Not everyone in the region was anti-communist or fully welcoming of the pro-Finnish angle (Hyytiä 2008, 139).

The choice of topics and general style of writing were, to some extent, affected by censorship (e.g., Vilkuna 1962, 65–75), as well as by the general patriotic rhetoric of the wartime period. The military front-line correspondents had orders regarding topics and perspectives (Perko 1974, 75–79, 111–21). All articles by researchers and military front-line correspondents concerning East Karelia had to be checked before publication (Perko 1974, 52–53). The press could operate with considerable freedom in Finland even during the war (Pilke 2009, 89). However, it is uncertain how much researchers practiced self-censorship despite the freedom of the press. We also do not know what instructions or requirements the researchers received from the funding bodies or newspapers and magazines (e.g., Aunila 2020) when choosing their topics. At any rate, the material does not contain any negative comments regarding the Finnish political agenda.

“ Straight from the Field”—Ways of Convincing the Reader

To analyze how researchers influence the reader (and thus society), we need to look at the means of creating credibility in the articles. The means of influence can give clues about the researchers’ objectives. For any text to have an impact, the author must convince readers of the truthfulness, reliability, and importance of what they are reading, that is, of the need to regard it as legitimate knowledge. How researchers assure readers of the legitimacy of the knowledge being presented is of interest to scholars studying the history of knowledge and propaganda alike (e.g., Cole 1998, 609–12). To make visible these means, I close read the articles (e.g., Pöysä 2015), focusing both on the content of the text and the modes of expression. I analyzed the themes and words used, possible connotations beyond the literal meanings, and, for example, the intended audience. I paid attention to the means the author used to appeal to the readers and to emphasize the legitimacy of the knowledge being presented. I also looked for ways of reinforcing the predispositions and attitudes of the audience, such as references to heimohenki (kinship ideology), as well as criticism of Bolshevism. By analyzing the choice of topics, the manner and tone of the writing, and the propagandistic elements, the intended impact and ways of directing the reader’s thoughts became visible.

Several means of doing so can be found in the texts: the credibility of knowledge was supported using personal experience, that is, by employing eyewitness testimony, scientific methods, or a voice that lent authority or expertise or else by citing reliable sources (Myllyntausta 2023, 177; Gieryn 2018, 41–43). In addition to such strategies, different circles of knowledge have their own beliefs, values, and norms that influence the reception of new information. The predispositions of the audience can be used to create an impression of credibility and a sense of resonance: messages tend to have a greater impact when they align with existing beliefs and opinions (Jowettand O’Donnell 2019, 275–77).

Eyewitness testimony creates a strong sense of reliability. Details add descriptive power to the text, and the descriptions of eyewitness impressions and moods appeal to the readers’ emotions (e.g., Pälsi 1941a-c; Hautala 1942). The extensive use of photographs creates the impression of a report “straight from the field”. One strong example of the power of eyewitness testimony can be found in an article by Helmi Helminen, an ethnologist who went to East Karelia for the first time in the autumn of 1941 and collected museum objects there. The article is based on and copied almost word for word from Helminen’s fieldwork diary (Helminen 2008 [1941], 91–94). She takes the reader on a tour of the Karelian village of Vuosniemi, near Repola, describing the houses, their structure and furnishings, and the special atmosphere of the deserted village (Helminen 1942, 4).

Another good example of the power of eyewitness testimony is the archaeologist and ethnologist Sakari Pälsi, who served as a front-line correspondent and cleverly used his observations to enhance the message. Pälsi had a way with words, and his articles combine skillful writing, ethnological insight, information on military objectives, and descriptive reporting from the field. In one of his articles (Pälsi 1941a), he describes his visit, together with some older men and young boys from the village, to an exceptionally well-preserved tsasouna (Orthodox village chapel) hidden in the shade of the big spruce trees of the local cemetery. The story of the Karelian Orthodox religion, which was almost destroyed by the Bolsheviks and which the Finns were helping to restore, is woven into the atmospheric report. Some of Pälsi’s writings and photographs from the Aunus region in East Karelia were re-published as a book called Voittajien jalanjäljissä [Following the Victors]. The feeling of “being there” is quite strong in his narrative.

Expertise creates trust. The readers of the newspapers and magazines were not themselves experts in ethnology or East Karelia, so appealing to expertise was an effective way of influencing their ideas. Expertise can be expressed in many ways. The aforementioned “eyewitness testimony” created expertise. One way for academics to underscore their expertise was to use a title reinforcing their familiarity with the subject or field. The authors of eleven articles in the collection used an academic title of professor, doctor, or master, which immediately gave the reader the impression of a knowledgeable author. The title of military front-line correspondent appears in five of the articles. The front-line correspondents were also soldiers working for the military information companies. The title suggests authority, the status of a live reporter. Interestingly, Sakari Pälsi uses the title of doctor in four of his seven articles and military front-line correspondent in two; the final article lacks a title.

Expertise was also emphasized by using a highly specific technical or scientific vocabulary. This is the case in several articles, especially when writing about buildings or women’s handicrafts (e.g., Kartano 1942; Vilppula 1943; Vahter 1941, 1942a and 1942b). When describing a typical Karelian house, the authors used Karelian language terms for rooms and spaces, such as sintso (hallway) or galdari(ornamental balcony), to highlight the distinctive character of the houses and their knowledge of the subject. In some articles, the presentation of expertise went hand in hand with an appeal to reliable sources, such as other researchers, previous research, or other literature (e.g., Pälsi 1941b; Hautala 1944).

Expertise can also refer to the presentation of one’s research or researcher status. Several of the authors included in the collection of articles conducted research in East Karelia during the Continuation War. However, the articles make relatively few references to the researchers’ own research and its results. For example, Helmi Helminen describes the village where she worked but does not describe the research itself, such as the actual selection of museum objects (Helminen 1942a). The other article by Helminen in the collection, a lengthy text about East Karelian Christmas and New Year’s traditions (Helminen 1942b), does not mention that the information was gathered at least partly by Helminen herself. The only lengthier description of the writer’s research is offered by Jouko Hautala, whose reportage includes photos taken by him during his research expedition (Hautala 1944).

The most direct accounts of the ethnological research done in East Karelia are found in two articles, one published in the Swedish-speaking newspaper Hufvudstadsbladet on 18 October 1942 and another in a large newspaper named Aamulehti [Morning paper] on 20 October 1942. The articles were written by journalists working for the newspapers. The articles give the impression that a press conference had been organized by or at the National Museum, where ethnologists Helmi Helminen, Tyyni Vahter, and Hilkka Vilppula reported on their research trips to East Karelia during the summer. Helmi Helminen reported that she had visited 17 villages to study the traditional household and food economy and the objects used in the homes, as well as livestock farming, blacksmithing, weaving, hunting, and annual festivals, among other things. Traveling together, Hilkka Vilppula visited the same villages as Helminen and studied the same buildings. Tyyni Vahter had visited Äänislinna, as the Soviet city of Petrozavodsk or Petroskoi had been renamed by Finns at the time, and several villages in Aunus to study traditional handicrafts. The Finnish-language and Swedish-language newspaper articles contain much of the same information but with different points of emphasis. Respective political agendas are evident in both, but kinship ideology is more prominent in the Finnish-language article. Heimohenki (kinship ideology) – the empathy, support, and protectiveness that Finns felt towards Finno-Ugric kindred peoples, for example, Karelians on the Russian side of the border—has its roots in European national romanticism. It is a concept closely related to Karelianism, the scientific and artistic interest in Karelia, which emphasized the role of Karelia as a region where “genuine, ancient Finnishness” could still be found (e.g., Sihvo 2017, 397–406; Roiko-Jokela 2010, 19–25).

Taking advantage of the audience’s predispositions is a common means of influencing readers. Writers use it to create resonance and cohesion, build a base of shared knowledge, and prepare the public to be receptive to other possible messages (Jowett and O’Donnell 2019, 276–77). Messages have greater impact when they are in line with existing opinions, beliefs, and dispositions; when it came to East Karelia, such messages included a belief in the kinship ideology and criticism of Bolshevism, widespread throughout Finland in the decades leading up to the Continuation War but not necessarily popular among all groups or those with more leftist political orientations. The authors frequently repeated the messages to influence readers of the articles.

When appealing to the readership’s existing dispositions, the sense of kinship ideology becomes visible in such formulations, as Finns should have a sense of “duty and joy” in helping their “kindred brothers and sisters” living in occupied territories, in helping them reach the same level of achievement as the Finns, for example in terms of education and standard of living. References to the kinship between Finns and Karelians, to their common history, and the Finnishness of the Karelians are also revealing:

There have been fierce battles, strong fortresses [built], to save Finnishness from the threatening devourer of the East. The Karelians have been the vanguard: unwittingly, unwillingly, they have gloriously remained in their delaying positions, sacrificing themselves linguistically, sometimes even nationally, but always preserving their deepest, most fervent Finnishness. (Pälsi 1941b, translated by the author)

Furthermore, the admiration for Karelians’ originality, perseverance, and ‘ancient wisdom’ highlights the kinship ideology behind the texts. These qualities, such as skill, industriousness, and generosity (mentioned below), represented the virtues of the “land of Kalevala.” They were considered to reflect the Finnishness of the inhabitants of East Karelia and to distinguish them from what was considered Russian.

You have to wonder how hands that have become rough with such heavy toil can produce such fine embroidery and weaving. But many have beautiful handicrafts, käspaikka (hand towel), and tablecloths made by the moamo (grandmother). ... Hospitality is one of her first qualities; even the smallest thing she always offers to her guests with such generosity and captivating kindness. (Vahter 1942b)

The appeals to kinship appear frequently, but not always in the same context as criticism of Bolshevism. Criticism was more common in the successful early phase of the war, 1941–1942, but from 1943 onwards, as the outcome of the war became increasingly uncertain, it was even curbed by censorship orders (Vilkuna 1962, 142–43; Pimiä 2009, 256). In focusing on the writers’ criticism of Bolshevism, I am referring primarily to their comments about how the situation became worse for Karelia and its people under Soviet rule. According to the authors, the Soviet period was marked by repressive measures against the Karelians, and by general inefficiency, untidiness, disarray, and a lack of style.

Only once in Aunus did I see a healthy-looking child. He was the grandchild of a collective farm manager. His home was the only clean home I ever saw in Aunus, and yet I visited dozens of them. … We have no reason to doubt the skill and good will of our Aunus sisters to improve their lot now that they are free from the red nightmare. (Harmas 1941)

The previous examples provide an opportunity to identify researchers’ societal values in their texts. I have argued that, to some extent, this is possible by concentrating on how the authors constructed their texts, how they appealed to the reader, and how they presented evidence to support their views. However, uncertainties arise when the research material is limited. The research material only includes one article by many authors, which increases uncertainty about their own voice: the articles may have been edited or condensed in newspapers and magazines. When the collection includes several articles by the same author, for example, seven by Sakari Pälsi, then the researcher’s style and choices are more clearly visible.

“Following the Victors”? Signs of Propaganda

As mentioned above, the authors of the articles use different means and ways to convince their readers that their perspectives are true, relevant, and timely. They also use readers’ existing beliefs and prejudices to strengthen their message. However, are the articles propaganda? While the answer is by no means clearcut, it is not far-fetched to assume that the ethnologists, funded by the state to write about East Karelia, were still—some more knowingly than others—serving as agents of propaganda for the state (Jowett and O’Donnell 2019, 267).

In the case of Greater Finland, the desired intent of the propagandist, the state, was to support the claim that Finland had a right to occupy the East Karelian areas, that is, to provide support for the Greater Finland ideology. Researchers sponsored by the State Scientific East Karelia Committee, including ethnologists, aimed to produce information to support this perspective. One way to support the Greater Finland efforts was to generate enthusiasm among people for the Greater Finland project and increase their support for the war in general. Presumably, as agents of the state, ethnologists were also expected to be at least sympathetic to the issue and to support it in their writings and other public activities. One example of the instructions given to researchers and amateurs is the East Karelian Folk Poetry Collection Guide, published by the Finnish Literature Society in 1943:

Now that the road to the lands of Viena and Aunus has been reopened, it is of paramount importance for national research to begin to save the treasures of the common fatherland. … Information on the customs followed by the population of East Karelia in different life stages is quite incomplete. Therefore, collectors are asked to describe in detail, and accurately, folk customs related to, for example, childbirth, baptism, childcare, courtship, marriage customs or death … furniture, vessels, measurements, cattle husbandry… ( Itä-Karjalan kansanrunouden keruuopas. [East Karelian Folk Poetry Collection Guide] 1943, 62–63)

The aim—to gather evidence to support the Greater Finland ideology—of the State Scientific East Karelia Committee, which organized researchers’ travels to and from East Karelia, was hardly unknown to the researchers. For example, at least, terms like “national research”³ or “common fatherland” found in the collection guide show clear ownership of the objectives. For ethnologists, the fact that one of the key figures of the time, ethnologist Kustaa Vilkuna, served as secretary of the committee undoubtedly meant that both official and unofficial channels were used for giving orders. This increases the uncertainty about how best to interpret their motives, making it, despite the surviving archive materials, quite difficult for current researchers to fully understand the nature of the instructions received by ethnologists.

The division of propaganda into white, grey, and black propaganda, depending only on the veracity of the message or whether the sender is known or not, helps us better understand the nature of the articles and the possible intent of the authors (Jowett and O’Donnell 2019, 17–23). If we count as white propaganda all articles in which the author, that is, the sender of the message, is known and providing accurate information, albeit selected or colored in a way that can be seen as favorable to the Greater Finland ideology, then most of the articles in the research material can be considered examples of white propaganda. In the material collection, such a selection of topics or coloring is represented by, for example, various similarities with Finns or Finnish culture (e.g., Pälsi 1941b, 1941c), the Karelians’ status as representing the “vanguard of Finnishness” (e.g., Pälsi 1941b; Laiho 1942), or the Karelians’ desire to shake off the influences of the Soviet era (e.g., Haavio 1941; Pälsi 1941b; Vahter 1942b ).

White propaganda creates a positive attitude towards the desired cause. Ethnologists wrote about their subjects in the desired, positive tone, and the range of topics they chose was limited. One has to wonder whether readers considered such texts propagandistic in the modern sense of the term at that time. Some expressions, such as ryssä (Russki), are considered offensive by today’s standards and were demeaning even in their time. However, they were still part of a common language during the war years (Pimiä 2009, 86). In addition, some articles were also relatively neutral about possible propaganda objectives, aside from their general subject matter, East Karelia (e.g., Helminen 1942b; Vilppula 1943). The topics studied in East Karelia were standard research topics in ethnology at the time, even when the country was not at war. Hence, they do not reveal any specific propagandistic thematic choices on the part of the writers.

The research material includes no examples of clearly false, black propaganda. However, it is possible to detect shades of grey in the material, suggesting a conscious act of propaganda. For example, as mentioned before, the ethnologist Sakari Pälsi, who was quite sympathetic to the Greater Finland idea even before the war (Relas 2017, 41–42, 66–67), wrote articles under the titles of both doctor and front-line correspondent, which obscures the origin and intent of the information: researcher or military man? (e.g., Pälsi 1941b and 1941c.) By choosing the title, the readers are told who is viewing the information and through what type of lens, influencing how they interpret the information. The title chosen by the author gives the text the desired weight. Another example of grey tones can be found in Jouko Hautala’s (1942) reportage from Limosaari: it comes from an identifiable source, but the author draws rather bold and scientifically questionable conclusions based on tenuous evidence about the language and origins of the previous inhabitants of a deserted island. The article exhibiting the darkest shade of grey is entitled Vapautuvaa Venäjää [Freed Russia], signed only with the initials A.M. ( Suomen Kuvalehti n.o. 28 1941). It is a summary of the arguments for a Greater Finland. It covers the whole spectrum of arguments, from the natural conditions and bedrock that East Karelia shares with Finland, or, in other words, the “unnatural borders” of the region, to the Finnishness of the inhabitants.

Defining propaganda is difficult, as the different emphases of the different scholars in the field show (Jowett and O’Donnell 2019, 2–6). The fact that the meaning of the term propaganda has changed over time adds to the uncertainty. The word “propaganda” now has an exclusively negative connotation; in the early twentieth century, it was often used to refer to ordinary forms of communication, such as the advertising of events. Definitions of white, grey, and black propaganda help to capture the characteristics of texts that make use of propaganda as it is understood today.

Conclusion: Answers and Question Marks

This paper focused on the methodological uncertainties of studying ethnologists’ societal influence in times of war: the ways in which such an influence may or may not be read in their non-scientific publications and the ways in which propagandists’ voices may or may not be interpreted based on the content of the publications. Ethnological knowledge circulated in Finnish newspapers and magazines during the Continuation War of 1941–1944. Analysis of the writings shows that to better understand the role of ethnologists and the uncertainties involved in the process of interpretation, providing an answer to the question “what was said?” is not enough. Questions of when, where, how, and for whom need to be addressed as well (Secord 2004, 663–64).

The articles in the collection analyzed here focus mainly on the early years of the war when enthusiasm for the nascent Greater Finland idea was at its peak. One lingering uncertainty stems from this point of emphasis: we do not know whether the person(s) collecting the clippings just chose not to include articles from the later years of the war or if they did not have access to more articles at that time. Furthermore, the collection of clippings was clearly compiled from a limited sample of publications, which was lacking, most notably, leftist publications. As such, the collection itself offers but one interpretation of the societal influence of ethnologists—and also that of the National Museum, where the Finno-Ugric collections of previous decades had been gathered and displayed.

The collection also served to verify the museum’s social and political positioning. Many of the authors were working or otherwise connected to the museum, and East Karelia played a major role in the museum’s collection work and exhibition activities during that period. During the Continuation War, some of the National Museum’s artifacts were evacuated to safety, and exhibitions were closed. The museum had the space and the interest to organize temporary exhibitions on topical subjects. For example, in the winter of 1941–1942, a historical-ethnological Karelia exhibition was organized, which, according to Tuukka Talvio, “reflected the mood of the offensive phase of the Continuation War.” A new ethnological exhibition was opened in the autumn of 1943. It had three rooms reserved for the display of East Karelian material. (Talvio 2016, 220–25). Thus, the National Museum can be considered to have played an important role in strengthening the perception of Finnishness of the occupied territories.

Contrary to what some scholars have claimed, the greatest contribution of ethnological research during the war years was not only the collection of museum objects and other materials. (see Laine 1993, 191–92). Rather, the newspaper and magazine material offer a glimpse of the broader role of researchers at the time: Ethnologists were influential not only in the collection of ethnological knowledge but also in planning its use and circulation to new recipients. In addition to writing articles for numerous newspapers and magazines, they were involved in the State Scientific East Karelia Committee, which oversaw all research on East Karelia, as well as in the operations of military information companies. They held press conferences on their expeditions and actively organized and promoted exhibitions showcasing the occupied territories’ culture.

Some scholars have suggested that the interest in Karelia and kinship ideology was strongest among the more highly educated population. However, the range of newspapers and magazines and the diverse publications and genres show that the publications targeted different circles of knowledge and layers of society. The magazine articles were intended for and read by those in academic circles as well as by decision-makers, housewives, soldiers, Finnish speakers, Swedish speakers, Finns, and Karelians alike – who were allowed to subscribe to Finnish magazines but not newspapers (Hyytiä 2008, 135). In light of the vast range of material, it is quite possible that the articles and their authors sought to create a broader support base and sympathy for East Karelia – and possibly also for the Greater Finland ideology.

The most difficult question—missing from Secord’s list—is dealing most clearly with uncertainty regarding the project: “why?” Why did the ethnologists write the articles and choose their topics, perspectives, or audiences? What underlying values, views, and ideologies are evident in the articles? Some of the reasons for publishing popular articles were probably quite commonplace – use one’s expertise, advance one’s career, perhaps earn extra income—but deeper reasons are difficult to pin down. In a situation where researchers’ choices are influenced by wartime realities and uncertainties, censorship regulations, the policies of the publication (e.g., Aunila 2020), and the possible expectations and wishes of the research funder, the answers offered by the research material are limited.

The overall picture painted by the ethnological articles is enthusiastic and practical regarding Finland’s mission in East Karelia, one prone to celebrating kinship ideology and criticizing Bolshevism. The themes of the articles are typical of ethnology, but only material that fit the grand narrative of the time was selected for the collection. As a whole, no significant conclusions can be drawn from the articles’ topics concerning their possible overall intent. The collection reveals more about the tone of the articles and the way the ethnologists chose to write about the topics.

The most uncertain part of labeling a text propaganda is showing intentionality. Even though some propagandistic elements are present in the research material, the articles do not provide a solid basis for analyzing how ethnologists perceive their roles, values, and intentions. Nor can all the authors of the articles be considered a single coherent group; they included researchers from different backgrounds and with different values and ideologies. Eastern Finno-Ugric peoples had been the focus of Finnish ethnological research for a long time (e.g., Niiranen 1992, 21–40; Räsänen, R 1992, 103–25), and it is easy to understand the opposition towards and criticism of the Soviet Union and Bolshevism during wartime, even without specific aims at influencing opinions.

Ethnology was useful in shaping moods, but the extent to which and how explicitly a certain political agenda, such as the Greater Finland ideology, was supported and actively promoted by ethnologists depended on the researcher. It is likely that the researchers were familiar with the objectives of the committee funding the research. However, the many different tones and emphases of the articles in the collection suggest that the researchers decided on the strength of the social or political message. Nevertheless, such was the influence of the coordinating body, the general atmosphere, and the prevailing censorship rules that it was almost impossible to express negative views, even if one might have had them.