My late father, in a burst of enthusiasm, excitedly explained to me the story of the German pocket battleship, the Graf Spee. The Kriegsmarine, the German war navy, had been targeting British commercial shipping in the Atlantic in the 1930s. The much vaunted British navy, inheritors of the triumphant mantle of Lord Nelson and Trafalgar, had suffered a series of humiliating defeats at the hands of the German navy.

I remember my father explaining to me the battles this naval vessel had with English warships – I was about eight or nine years old. I listened intently, and got caught up in the shared excitement; my father was not a man of outwardly expressive emotions, so to see him so animated about a topic was something worth remembering.

In fact, hey dad, do I detect a certain underlying yet unmistakable admiration for the skill and determination of the commander of the German Panzerschiff (armoured ship)?

The German navy, according to the terms of the 1919 Treaty of Versailles, was restricted from building heavy warships by the Allied powers. The German government however, managed to circumvent these impositions by redesigning and reclassifying its ships as ‘pocket cruisers’. Make no mistake, there was nothing harmless or diminutive about them – the German navy took the naval battle to the Royal Navy with gusto.

The British, priding themselves on having the most powerful maritime force in the world, had taken a battering at the hands of the Kriegsmarine. Between September and December 1939, the Admiral Graf Spee had sunk a total of nine ships. She had a top speed of 28 knots, which meant at the time that only the elite of English naval forces could keep up with her.

The English Admiralty, under the leadership of Winston Churchill, had deployed numerous warships to target the Graf Spee – the Germans managed to sink all of them. The Royal Oak, the pride of the English navy, was safely anchored at Scapa Flow – the Germans sank her as well.

Serious questions were being asked about the competency of Churchill, and the wider Admiralty, in confronting the German threat. A public propaganda victory was needed – and the battle involving the Graf Spee provided that.

Confronted by three British warships in the South Atlantic in December 1939, the Graf Spee exchanged heavy fire with the British forces, before escaping to the neutral port of Montevideo, Uruguay. The latter remained neutral during the war.

Lacking any reinforcements, and discouraged by reports that the British navy was sending extra warships (reports that turned out to be false), the commander of the Graf Spee ordered the scuttling of the ship. He committed suicide three days later.

The English side milked this victory for its propaganda value. Here was the Royal Navy, victorious again, reviving the best traditions of Lord Nelson and Trafalgar. While London was eager to capitalise on this success, the battle was not a straight-out David versus Goliath story. Indeed, the US Naval Institute states that this battle was badly fought by the English, the latter even allowing the Graf Spee a certain leeway to escape.

Be that as it may, the propaganda value of the sinking of the Graf Spee proved immeasurably incalculable to the British side. The value of morale, bolstered by propaganda victories, is even more important than the details of military engagements.

Propaganda value comes to mind when we consider the most fatal event of the short lived 1982 Falklands war. Britain, in fighting the Argentine forces, deliberately sank the ARA Belgrano, an Argentine warship. The attack, carried out by a nuclear-armed British submarine, resulted in the deaths of 323 Argentine sailors. The ship was outside the exclusion zone established by the British government around the islands.

What is important to note here is the response of the British tabloid media, particularly the Murdoch-owned press. The headlines in May 1982 were dominated by the gloating, screaming statement ‘GOTCHA’. Our lads sank that ship, and this was an occasion for jingoistic flag waving.

Ironically, the Belgrano started its life as the USS Phoenix, an American navy ship. Surviving the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour in 1941, she was sold to Argentina in 1951. Updated with British missiles in the 1970s, she was sunk in May 1982.

The effects of imperial propaganda outlast the actual military conflict, influencing public debate and perceptions of overseas wars. World War 2 ended 80 years ago, yet we are still living in its shadow, in many ways. It took 80 years, but finally, the United States authorities publicly acknowledged what they always knew privately; they did not need to use nuclear weapons against Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Those atomic bombings were militarily needless, but served a powerful propaganda purpose.

Japan was exhausted and drained, and the Anglo-American allies knew it. Truman’s closest advisers warned him against using nuclear weapons, but the Cold War was on. The bombings served as a warning shot to the USSR – look at this new powerful weapon we have.

In this era when Hollywood movies mediate our understanding of World War 2, it is more important than ever to clear the obfuscatory role of imperial propaganda so we can see the reality of the world in which we live.