The creepy face masks of the first world war
These masks make Jason Voorhees look cuddly.
War has always been a bloody business, but the advent of industrial warfare cranked the carnage up to 11. As artillery, barbed wire, and high explosives were invented, perfected, and weaponized, our ability to destroy ourselves far outpaced our ability to stitch ourselves back together.
Among battlefield wounds, facial industries have traditionally been the most stigmatized and difficult to repair. Human co-evolution with pathogens like leprosy and syphilis have closely linked facial disfigurement with social judgments of degeneracy and danger. It’s no coincidence that horror films frequently mark frightening and bad guys with disfigured faces.
Historically, victims of serious injuries were loath to be treated by doctors or surgeons. Despite antiseptic advancements in the mid 19th century, surgery was an extremely dangerous proposition. People of the era understood that opening the skin for any reason was dangerous, even if the exact bacterial and fungal mechanisms had not yet been identified or accepted.
This combination of rudimentary surgical techniques, sensible aversion to invasion procedures, and the sheer deadly nature of WW1 weapons lead to astounding numbers of maimed and disfigured soldiers.
At the time, the conventional treatment for soldiers that suffered from facial disfigurement were masks. Sculptors and artists would be commissioned to create a likeness of the soldier’s features prior to their injury. Those masks would be worn while out in public to avoid offending the sensibilities of other people.
The masks themselves were created from a broad range of materials ranging from ceramics to metals and would often be fully customized to their wearer. A soldier returning from the front with a facial injury would first be given a generic, unfitted mask to cover their face. An artist would be given photographs or paintings prior to their injury and a customized mask would be produced, often with bespoke straps and attaching mechanisms that compensated for missing features like jaws and noses.
For recipients of the masks, they could be life-changing cosmetics, capable of allowing them to be seen in public and resume pre-war activities. But for the modern viewer, they fall solidly into the uncanny valley. You can see more masks here, here, here, here, here, here, and here.
Due to advancements in the art of plastic surgery, WW1 was the last time that such masks were widely used. Gradually, soldiers have been given the dignity of having fully functional faces even after experiencing battlefield tragedies.
I learned about this topic from Lindsey Fitzharris’ excellent book The Facemaker. You should read it too! (I don’t use affiliate links on Predictably Nonfiction.)