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The
Thick Fog of War on American Television
by
Norman Solomon
April
3, 2003
Minutes
after the dawn spread daylight across the Iraqi desert, "embedded"
CNN correspondent Walter Rodgers was on the air with a live report. Another
employee at the network, former U.S. Gen. Wesley Clark -- on the job in a TV
studio back home -- asked his colleague a question. When Rodgers responded, he
addressed Clark as "general" and "sir." The only thing
missing was a salute.
That
deferential tone pretty much sums up the overall relationship between American
journalists and the U.S. military on major TV networks. Correspondents in the
field have bonded with troops to the point that their language and enunciated
outlooks are often indistinguishable.
Meanwhile,
no matter what tensions exist, reporters remain basically comfortable with
Pentagon sources. And what passes for debate is rarely anything more than the
second-guessing of military decisions. It's OK to question how -- but not why
-- the war is being fought.
Sure,
some journalists have raised uncomfortable questions for top war makers in
Washington. At this point, within the bounds of mass media, the loudest voices
of pseudo-dissent have demanded to know whether the U.S. government
miscalculated by failing to deploy enough troops from the outset.
When
the media debate centers on whether the United States has attacked Iraq with
adequate troop strength and sufficient lethal violence, the fulcrum of supposed
media balance is far into the realm of fervent militarism.
Exceptional
reports on American television, conspicuous for their rarity, have asked deeper
questions. On the ABC program "Nightline," correspondent John Donvan
shed light on what "embeds" have routinely missed. Rather than
traveling under the Pentagon's wing, Donvan and other intrepid
"unilaterals" venture out on their own. In his case, the results
included an illuminating dispatch from the Iraqi town of Safwan.
"Just
because the Iraqis don't like Saddam, doesn't mean they like us for trying to
take him out," Donvan explained. "To the contrary. Although people
started out talking to us in a friendly way, after a while it became a little
tense. These people were mad at America, very mad. And they wanted us to know
why. It was because, they said, people in town had been shot at by the United
States."
Declining
to travel in tandem with U.S. troops, Donvan was able and willing to report on
views not apt to be expressed by Iraqis looking down the barrels of the
invaders' guns: "Why are you taking over Iraq? That's how the people in
this crowd saw it -- takeover, not liberation."
In
contrast to the multitudes of "embedded" American reporters, the "unilateral"
Donvan was oriented toward realities deeper than fleeting images. Instead of
zooming along on the media fast track, he could linger: "In short, if
embeds are always moving with the troops, unilaterals get to see what happens
after they've passed through."
The
visible anger of Iraqi people has roots in events that usually get described in
antiseptic and euphemistic terms by U.S. media outlets. "What else did we
see by going in as unilaterals? The close-up view of collateral damage. The
U.S. says it's trying to limit injuries to civilians. It is, however, hard not to
take it personally when that collateral damage is you." Donvan reported on
a wounded Iraqi man, evidently a bus driver, who had lost his wife over the
weekend: "She was collateral damage. So were his two brothers. So were his
two children."
Journalism
that may seem notably daring in the U.S. media would not raise an eyebrow
elsewhere. For instance, the contrast is stark between National Public Radio
and BBC Radio, or the PBS "NewsHour With Jim Lehrer" and BBC
Television. In comparison, most public broadcasting in the United States seems
to be cravenly licking the boots of Uncle Sam.
With
a straight face, and with scant willingness to raise fundamental questions,
American networks uncritically relay a nonstop barrage of statements from U.S.
officials that portray deadly Iraqi actions as heinous and deadly American
actions as positive. They have "death squads," and we have noble
troops. Their bullets and bombs are odious; ours are remedies for tyranny.
"It
looks and feels like terrorism," a Pentagon official said on national
television after several American soldiers died at the hands of an Iraqi
suicide bomber. But if attacks on U.S. troops inside Iraq are "terrorism,"
what should we call the continuously massive bombing of Baghdad? Surely, to
people in that city, the current assault looks and feels like terrorism.
Norman Solomon is Executive
Director of the Institute for Public Accuracy (www.accuracy.org) and a
syndicated columnist. His latest book is Target Iraq: What the News Media
Didn’t Tell You (Context Books, 2003) with Reese Erlich. For an excerpt and
other information, go to: www.contextbooks.com/new.html#target.
Email: mediabeat@igc.org