Lord Haw Haw Speaks!

William Joyce, known as Lord Haw-Haw, circa 1942. Photograph: Keystone/Getty Images

A Day in History - 18th September 1939

On the 18th September 1939, just weeks after Great Britain entered the Second World War, a strange, nasal voice first crackled over the British airwaves: ‘Germany Calling, Germany Calling.’ It belonged to the American-born William Joyce, soon notorious as ‘Lord Haw-Haw’, whose propaganda broadcasts from Nazi Germany would both unsettle and entertain millions. What began as a novelty broadcast became a national obsession, raising questions about truth, persuasion, and the dangers of free speech that still resonate today.

Even before he spoke on air, Joyce was known for his scathing attacks on British leaders. Churchill was the “Butcher-in-chief to His Majesty the King… willing to serve under any flag in order to improve fortune and minister to self-admiration.” Ramsay MacDonald was “The Loon from Lossiemouth,” and Stanley Baldwin, a politician Joyce had once supported, became “the steel merchant metamorphosed into a squire by casual experiments in pig-breeding.”

Joyce presented himself as a man of German descent, claiming he had ‘grown up with that mystical attraction which has ended up by my making Germany my permanent home.’ His allegiance, he insisted, came from an ‘absolute belief in National Socialism’ and the ‘German blood that flowed in the veins of some of my ancestors.’ He idolised Hitler, praising the Führer’s ‘superhuman heroism.’

When Goebbels recruited him to front ‘Germany Calling’, Joyce found the perfect stage. From Berlin, he attempted to undermine British morale, claiming, ‘The whole system of English so-called democracy is a fraud… an elaborate system of make-believe, under which you have the illusion of choosing your own government. Your nation is controlled… by big businesses, newspaper proprietors, opportunist statesmen, men like Churchill.’

"Lord Hee-Haw, Chief Wind-Bag" from the 1943 animated propaganda film Tokio Jokio

To dramatise his point, he created the sketch ‘Schmidt and Smith’. A German colleague would portray Schmidt, a well-informed German man, with Joyce himself in the role of Smith, a pompous Englishman with money. The two would engage in discussions, with Joyce continuing to degrade the British government and way of life. The fact that England, not Germany, declared war was frequently mentioned;

SMITH: “Well now, old man, tell me about this war of yours.”

SCHMIDT: “My dear Smith, I don’t know all about it and it isn’t ours.”

SMITH: “Don’t get cross, I mean after all, Hitler started it, didn’t he?”

SCHMIDT: “Who declared war on Germany?”

SMITH: “Well, of course, actually, we did. But you see we are solemnly pledged to defend the independence of Poland. We couldn’t back out, you know.”

Crude but theatrical, the sketches entertained audiences and made Joyce far more compelling than the BBC’s austere broadcasts. By 1940, Germany Calling attracted six million regular listeners and another eighteen million occasional ones. Goebbels noted in his diary that he told the Führer about ‘Lord Haw-Haw’s success, which is really astonishing.’

As the war turned against Germany, Joyce’s broadcasts grew darker. Playful mockery gave way to threats, insisting Britain’s collapse was inevitable. Even in September 1943, as Allied troops advanced, he proclaimed: ‘I will only say that German victory is certain.’ His final broadcasts mixed propaganda with grim prophecy: ‘Britain’s victories are barren; they leave her poor, they leave her people hungry and bereft of the wealth she possessed six years ago. We are nearing the end of one phase in Europe’s history, but the next will be no happier. It will be grimmer, harder and perhaps bloodier. I ask you earnestly, can Britain survive?’ Dishonest as it was, the rhetoric was not without resonance in a Britain that would soon face austerity and Cold War tension.

The Capture of William Joyce, Germany, 1945

Captured in May 1945, Joyce was tried in London for high treason. The case rested on the fact that he held a British passport between 1939 and 1940, obliging him to allegiance to the Crown. By serving Nazi Germany during that period, the court argued, he had betrayed his country. On 3 January 1946, he was hanged at Wandsworth Prison. Yet public reaction was uneasy. The Manchester Guardian warned that ‘one could wish he had been condemned for nothing more than a falsehood,’ reminding readers that ‘killing a man is not the way to root out false opinions.' His death raised a question that democracy has never resolved: should speech, however hateful, ever be punishable by death?

This question remains in contemporary society. In September 2025, the assassination of conservative commentator Charlie Kirk on an Utah campus was a stark reminder of the dangers of polarising political discourse. Kirk, a right-wing activist, frequently held 'prove me wrong' debates with students, which included anti-LBGTQ and anti-immigrant remarks, making him influential - and exposed. In the wake of Kirk's death, prominent voices from the right declared war. President Donald Trump vowed to go after the 'radical left' with Vice-President JD Vance led a Doxing campaign to expose and report individuals who expressed approval of the killing; 'when you see someone celebrating Charlie’s murder, call them out, and, hell, call their employer'. Such responses risk undermining freedom of speech in its most classic sense. Opposition to the form and substance of Kirk's politics has been reframed as disrespect, while calls for state-backed or socially sanctioned retribution against the 'wrong' opinions leave political leaders mirroring the very suppression they claim to resist.

In any sense, the story of Lord Haw-Haw and the assassination of Charlie Kirk demonstrates the fragility of free expression when societies are deeply polarised. To pretend both men were the model of good citizenship would be misleading, yet their actions do not in the slightest justify their killing. From Joyce’s broadcast on the 18th September 1939 to today’s political debates, the challenge remains the same: how do we confront harmful or provocative ideas without undermining the principle of free speech? History suggests the only guarantee against spoken repression is the protection of speech and association, even for unpopular groups and ideas.