Media Wars and the Rigors of Self-Censorship

by Norman Solomon

Censored 2003, pp241-253

Eight months after the World Trade Center suddenly disappeared from Manhattan's skyline, Dan Rather told a BBC television interviewer that American journalists were intimidated in the wake of September 11. Making what he called "an obscene comparison," the CBS news anchor commented, "There was a time in South Africa that people would put flaming tires around people's necks if they dissented. And in some ways the fear is that you will be 'necklaced' here, you will have a flaming tire of lack of patriotism put around your neck. Now it is that fear that keeps journalists from asking the toughest of the tough questions." Rather added that "I do not except myself from this criticism," and he went on: "What we are talking about here- whether one wants to recognize it or not, or call it by its proper name or not-is a form of self-censorship. I worry that patriotism run amok will trample the very values that the country seeks to defend."

Self-censorship has always been one of journalism's most ineffable hazards. It is obscured and murky-exercised privately and perhaps unconsciously-while the effects are enormous and ongoing in news media. At times of national crisis and military action, the constrictions on journalism become even tighter.

Like some of his colleagues, Dan Rather may engage in a bit of belated hand-wringing, after consistently marching in wartime step-helping the nation's Fourth Estate to function largely as a fourth branch of government. When he appeared on David Letterman's program six days after September 11, Rather pledged to back up the commander-in-chief. "George Bush is the president, he makes the decisions," the newsman said. And, speaking as "one American," Rather said about the president, "Wherever he wants me to line up, just tell me where. And he'll make the call."

***

We stared at televisions and tried to comprehend the horrific terrorism that occurred on September 11, 2001. Much of what we saw on the screens was ghastly and all too real, terrible anguish and sorrow.

At the same time, we witnessed an onslaught of media deception. "The greatest triumphs of propaganda have been accomplished, not by doing something, but by refraining from doing," Aldous Huxley observed long ago "Great is truth, but still greater, from a practical point of view, is silence about truth."

Despite the nonstop media din, a silence-rigorously selective-pervaded the mainstream news coverage. For policymakers in Washington, the practical utility of that silence was huge. In response to the mass murder committed by hijackers, the righteousness of U.S. military action was clear-as long as double standards went unmentioned.

While rescue crews braved intense smoke and grisly rubble, ABC News analyst Vincent Cannistraro helped to put it all in perspective for millions of TV viewers. Cannistraro is a former high-ranking official of the Central Intelligence Agency who was in charge of the CIA's work with the Contras in Nicaragua during the early 1980s. After moving to the National Security Council in 1984, he became a supervisor of covert aid to Afghan guerrillas. In other words, Cannistraro has a long history of assisting terrorists-first, Contra soldiers who routinely killed Nicaraguan civilians, then, mujahideen rebels in Afghanistan... like Osama bin Laden.

How can a longtime associate of terrorists now be credibly denouncing "terrorism"? It's easy. All that's required is for media coverage to remain in a kind of history-free zone that has no use for any facets of reality that are not presently convenient to acknowledge.

In his book 1984, George Orwell described the mental dynamics: "The process has to be conscious, or it would not be carried out with sufficient precision, but it also has to be unconscious, or it would bring with it a feeling of falsity and hence of guilt.... To tell deliberate lies while genuinely believing in them, to forget any fact that has become inconvenient, and then, when it becomes necessary again, to draw it back from oblivion for just so long as it is needed, to deny the existence of objective reality and all the while to take account of the reality which one denies-all this is indispensably necessary."

Secretary of State Colin Powell denounced "people who feel that with the destruction of buildings, with the murder of people, they can somehow achieve a political purpose." He was describing the terrorists who had struck his country hours earlier. But Powell was also aptly describing a long line of top officials in Washington. Surely U.S. policymakers believed that they could "achieve a political purpose"-with "the destruction of buildings, with the murder of people"-when launching missiles at Baghdad or Belgrade. But media scrutiny of atrocities committed by the U.S. government is rare. Only some cruelties merit the spotlight. Only some victims deserve empathy. Only certain crimes against humanity are worth our tears.

"This will be a monumental struggle of good versus evil," President Bush proclaimed. The media reactions to such rhetoric were overwhelmingly favorable. Yet the heart-wrenching voices on the USA's airwaves were, in human terms, no less or more important than voices we've never heard. The victims of terrorism in America have deserved our deep compassion. So have the faraway victims of America-human beings whose humanity has gone unrecognized by U.S. media.

***

With the overwhelming bulk of news organizations accustomed to serving as amplification systems for Washington's warriors in times of crisis, the White House found itself in a strong position to retool and lubricate the machinery of domestic propaganda after September 11, 2001. When confronted with claims about "coded messages" that Osama bin Laden and his henchmen might be sending via taped statements (as though other means like the Internet did not exist), TV network executives fell right into line.

Tapes of Al Qaeda leaders provided a useful wedge for the administration to hammer away at the wisdom of (government-assisted) self-censorship. Network execs from ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox, and CNN were deferential in an October 10 conference call with Condoleezza Rice. The conversation was "very collegial," Ari Fleischer told the White House press corps. The result was an agreement, The New York Times reported, to "abridge any future videotaped statements from Osama bin Laden or his followers to remove language the government considers inflammatory." It was, the Times added, "the first time in memory that the networks had agreed to a joint arrangement to limit their prospective news coverage." News Corp. magnate Rupert Murdoch, speaking for Fox, promised: "We'll do whatever is our patriotic duty." CNN, owned by the world's largest media conglomerate AOL Time Warner, was eager to present itself as a team player: "In deciding what to air, CNN will consider guidance from appropriate authorities."

"Guidance" from the "appropriate authorities" was exactly what the president's strategists had in mind-brandishing a club without quite needing to swing it. As longtime White House reporter Helen Thomas noted in a column, "To most people, a 'request' to the television networks from the White House in wartime carries with it the weight of a government command. The major networks obviously saw it that way..." The country's TV news behemoths snapped to attention and saluted. "I think they gave away a precedent, in effect," said James Naughton, president of the Poynter Institute for Media Studies. "And now it's going to be hard for them not to do whatever else the government asks."

Some ominous steps were underway. "The U.S. State Department contacted the Voice of America, a broadcast organization funded by the federal government, and expressed concern about the radio broadcast of an exclusive interview with Taliban leader Mullah Mohammed Omar," according to the Committee to Protect Journalists, based in New York. As a follow-up, VOA head Robert Reilly "distributed a memo barring interviews with officials from 'nations that sponsor terrorism."'

In early October, while the U.S. government prepared for extensive bombing of Afghanistan, efforts increased to pressure media outlets-at home and abroad. Colin Powell urged the Emir of Qatar to lean on the Qatar-based Al Jazeera satellite TV network. A correspondent for the San Francisco Chronicle, reporting from Cairo, remarked on "the sight of the United States, the defender of freedom and occasional critic of Arab state repression, lobbying one of the most moderate Arab leaders to rein in one of the region's few sources of independent news."

What was the global impact of such measures? The Committee to Protect Journalists included this assessment in its "Attacks on the Press" annual report: "The actions taken by the Bush Administration seemed to embolden repressive governments around the world to crack down on their own domestic media. In Russia, a presidential adviser said President Vladimir Putin planned to study U.S. limitations on reporting about terrorists in order to develop rules for Russian media."

While the bombing of Afghanistan continued, Uncle Sam proved to be quite a role model for how avowedly democratic nations can serve rather explosive notice on specific news outlets. The Pentagon implemented a devastating November 13 missile attack on the Al Jazeera bureau in Kabul. Months later, the Committee to Protect Journalists expressed skepticism about the official explanations: "The U.S. military described the building as a'known' Al Qaeda facility without providing any evidence. Despite the fact that the facility had housed the Al Jazeera office for nearly two years and had several satellite dishes mounted on its roof, the U.S. military claimed it had no indications the building was used as Al Jazeera's Kabul bureau."

That's one of many ways for governments to "dispatch" news.

***

At the Pentagon, the Office of Strategic Influence went from obscurity to | infamy to oblivion during a spin cycle that lasted just seven days in late February 2002. Coming to terms with a week of negative coverage after news broke that the Pentagon office might purposely deceive foreign media, a somber defense secretary announced: "It is being closed down." But for Donald Rumsfeld and his colleagues along the Potomac, the inky cloud of bad publicity had a big silver lining.

Orders to shut the controversial office came a day after President Bush proclaimed zero tolerance for lies from U.S. officials. "We'll tell the American people the truth," he vowed. Would the Defense Department try to deceive journalists? The question in the air was distasteful, and the answer from Rumsfeld could only offer comfort: "This is something the Pentagon has not done, is not doing, and would not condone." A retired Air Force general was likewise reassuring when the Office of Strategic Influence crashed and burned. "I'm absolutely convinced that in no way would top officials of the administration ever have approved lying to the media," said Donald Shepperd, working as a CNN military analyst.

After Rumsfeld ceremoniously disbanded the office, amid profuse pledges of veracity, Newsday columnist Ellis Henican astutely wrote: "But don't worry, Rumsfeld's people were whispering yesterday around the Pentagon. They'll keep on spreading whatever stories they think they have to- to foreigners especially. Call it the free flow of misinformation. Who needs a formal office for that?" The whole brouhaha must have caused quite a few laughs in high places behind the Pentagon's thick walls.

In American news outlets, some of the attacks on the Office of Strategic Influence actually reinforced the notion that the U.S. government has no rational motive for hiding truth, since its real endeavors can proudly stand the light of day-an easy misconception that would hardly displease the propagandists who concocted the Office of Strategic Influence in the first place. At the end of a tough New York Times piece, titled "Office of Strategic Mendacity," columnist Maureen Dowd applied an oily salve to the PR wounds she'd just inflicted. "Our cause is just," she concluded. "So why not just tell the truth?"

Why not just tell the truth? Because-whether the issue is support for human rights abusers or civilian deaths courtesy of U.S. taxpayers-"the truth" would often indicate that the Pentagon's cause - why not.

As soon as Rumsfeld declared the Office of Strategic Influence to be null and void, some public-relations dividends began to flow. The Chicago Tribune quoted Lucy Dalglish, executive director of the Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press, generously praising officials at the Pentagon: "This is good news for the public. Now we can have more confidence that what they're telling us is true." But anyone would be ill-advised to have "confidence" in the truthfulness of Pentagon pronouncements-or to trust that officials aren't hiding key facts with the simple tactic of withholding information, letting silence effectively tell whoppers.

Deceptive propaganda can only succeed to the extent that journalists are gullible-or believe that they must pretend to be-while encouraging the public to go along with the charade. Four centuries ago, the French cardinal and statesman Richelieu remarked that concealing true intentions "is the art of kings." ("Savoir dissimuler est le savoir des rois.") For kings and presidents, the illusion of credibility is crucial. Manipulation hinges on deference from courtiers and scribes, reporters and pundits.

***

In the spring of 2002, Thomas Friedman won a Pulitzer Prize for commentary. The award came after many months when the syndicated New York Times columnist was on television more than ever, sharing his outlooks with viewers of Meet the Press, Face the Nation, Washington Week in Review, and other programs. "In the post-9-11 environment, the talk shows can't get enough of Friedman," a Washington Post profile noted.

Another media triumph came for Friedman in early 2002 with the debut of "Tom's Journal" on the NewsHour with Jim Lehrer. A news release from the influential PBS program described it as a "one-on-one debriefing of Friedman by Lehrer or one of the program's senior correspondents." Friedman was scheduled to appear perhaps a dozen times per year, after returning from major trips abroad.

If he were as fervent about stopping wars as starting them, it's hard to imagine that a regular feature like "Tom's Journal" would be airing on the NewsHour.

Friedman has been a zealous advocate of "bombing Iraq, over and over and over again" (in the words of a January 1998 column). When he offered is not just. That's a pithy list of prescriptions for Washington's policymakers in 1999, it included: "Blow up a different power station in Iraq every week, so no one knows when the lights will go off or who's in charge." In an introduction to the book Iraq Under Siege, editor Anthony Arnove points out: "Every power station that is targeted means more food and medicine that will not be refrigerated, hospitals that will lack electricity, water that will be contaminated, and people who will die." But Friedman-style bravado goes over big with editors and network producers who share his disinterest in counting such human costs. Many journalists seem eager to fawn over their stratospheric colleague. "Nobody understands the world the way he does," NBC's Tim Russert claims.

Sometimes, Friedman has fixated on four words in particular. "My motto is very simple: Give war a chance," he told Diane Sawyer in late 2001 on Good Morning America. It was the same motto that he'd used two-and-a-half years earlier in a Fox News interview. Different war; different enemy; different network; same solution. In the spring of 1999, as bombardment of Yugoslavia went on, Friedman recycled "Give war a chance" from one column to another. "Twelve days of surgical bombing was never going to turn Serbia around," he wrote in early April. "Let's see what 12 weeks of less than surgical bombing does. Give war a chance." Another column included this gleeful approach for threatening civilians in Yugoslavia with protracted terror: "Every week you ravage Kosovo is another decade we will set your country back by pulverizing you. You want 1950? We can do 1950. You want 1389? We can do 1389 too." In November 2001, his column was in a similar groove: "Let's all take a deep breath and repeat after me: Give war a chance. This is Afghanistan we're talking about."

Friedman seems to be crazy about wisps of craziness in high Washington places. He has a penchant for touting insanity as a helpful ingredient of U.S. foreign policy and some kind of passion for indications of derangement among those who call the military shots. During an October 13, 2001 appearance on CNBC, he said: "I was a critic of Rumsfeld before, but there's one thing...that I do like about Rumsfeld. He's just a little bit crazy, OK? He's just a little bit crazy, and in this kind of war, they always count on being able to out-crazy us, and I'm glad we got some guy on our bench that our quarterback-who's just a little bit crazy, not totally, but you never know what that guy's going to do, and I say that's my guy."

And Friedman doesn't just talk that way. He also writes that way. "There is a lot about the Bush team's foreign policy I don't like," a Friedman column declared in mid-February 2002, "but their willingness to restore our deterrence, and to be as crazy as some of our enemies, is one thing they have right,"

Is Thomas Friedman clever? Perhaps. But not nearly as profound as a few words from W.H. Auden: "Those to whom evil is done / Do evil in return."

***

News accounts keep telling us about "the war on terrorism." Journalists have gotten into the habit of shortening it to "the war on terror"-perhaps the most demagogic term in recent memory. The comfort zone of media coverage excludes unauthorized ironies, much preferring to accept that the U.S. government can keep making war on "terror" by using high-tech weapons that inevitably terrorize large numbers of people. Just about any measures deemed appropriate by top officials in Washington fit snugly under the rubric of an ongoing war that may never end.

Irony, while hardly dead, is mainly confined to solitary reflection. If insights run counter to the prevailing dogma, then access to mainstream media is apt to be scant or nonexistent. The need for independent thought has never been greater. At this point, facile phrases about war on "terrorism" or "terror" are written in invisible ink on a blank check for militarism. They can be roughly translated as "pay to the order of the president"-to be cashed with vast quantities of human blood.

A line from King Lear, in Act 4, is hauntingly appropriate: "'Tis the time's plague when madmen lead the blind." The observation fits the current era, and not only with reference to the murderous qualities of the Al Qaeda network. Few media outlets-and certainly none of the major national brands- have been willing to scrutinize the unhinged aspects of the adulated leadership in the White House.

After September 11, 2001, many journalists commented that the United States is unaccustomed to the role of victim. Left unsaid is how accustomed we are to being victimizers while preening ourselves as a nation of worldly do-gooders. The 3,000 human beings who lost their lives at the World Trade Center have cast an enormous shadow-as they should. But what about the uncounted people killed, one way or another, by U.S. policies?

The list of countries that the Pentagon has attacked in recent decades is long. The list of governments using American-supplied weapons to repress and massacre is even longer. And there's quieter slaughter, on a grand scale: During every hour, more than 1,000 children in the world die from preventable diseases. Basic nutrition, medical care, and sanitation would save their lives. A fraction of the Pentagon budget would suffice.

But we still live in a society with the kind of priorities that Martin Luther King, Jr. described a long time ago-spending "military funds with alacrity an generosity" but providing anti-poverty funds "with miserliness." If he were alive now, his voice would still cry out against "the glaring contrast of poverty and wealth." King would have good reason to reiterate words from his speech on April 4, 1967, when he denounced "capitalists of the West investing huge sums of money in Asia, Africa, and South America, only to take the profits out with no concern for the social betterment of the countries."

Today, advocates for humanitarian causes might see the United States as a place where "madmen lead the blind." But that's kind of a harsh way to describe the situation. Our lack of vision is in the context of a media system that mostly keeps us in the dark.

In American media's echo chamber, much of the genuine anguish from September 11 segued into a lot of braying about national greatness. Like many other pundits now in their glory days on cable TV networks, Chris Matthews knows how to dodge difficult truths. "Patriotism is more important than politics," he proclaimed one day in December 2001. What "unites us" is "democracy, freedom, human rights, the right to pursue happiness." And what about the "right to pursue happiness" for the kids dying from lack of food or clean water or medicine, while Matthews and thousands of other journalists fawn over the U.S. military?

Anyone watching TV news has seen lots of idolatry lavished on the latest Pentagon weapons. Uncle Sam's immense military power and Washington's role as the number-one arms dealer on the planet add up to a colossal drain of resources-and a powerful means of enforcing the bonds between the U.S. government and scores of regimes that combine repression with oligarchy, amid rampant poverty.

Winners get to write history, and that starts with the news. Victory in Afghanistan became ample justification for going to war in the first place; the message that overwhelming might makes right is ever-present, even if no one quite says so out loud. And when human flesh goes up in flames and human bodies shatter-but not on our TV screens-did it ever really happen?

Several decades ago, peace activist A.J. Muste observed: "The problem after a war is with the victor. He thinks he has just proved that war and violence pay. Who will now teach him a lesson?"

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