[Reader-list] The Press: The Enemy Within (New York Review of Books)
Ravi Sundaram
ravis at sarai.net
Thu Dec 29 19:35:04 IST 2005
The continuing saga of the scandal of the US
media. Our own media in India is probably worse,
where the links between money, power and staged
media events is more than ever before. What is
common to the pre-war US media and its current
Indian counterpart is a certain smugness and
triumphalism. Some day the main new here will be
the scandal of the media industry itself.
Ravi
_____________
Volume 52, Number 20 · December 15, 2005
<http://www.nybooks.com/articles/18555>
The Press: The Enemy Within
By Michael Massing
The past few months have witnessed a striking
change in the fortunes of two well-known
journalists: Anderson Cooper and Judith Miller.
CNN's Cooper, the one-time host of the
entertainment show The Mole, who was known mostly
for his pin-up good looks, hip outfits, and showy
sentimentality, suddenly emerged during Hurricane
Katrina as a tribune for the dispossessed and a
scourge of do-nothing officials. He sought out
poor blacks who were stranded in New Orleans,
expressed anger over bodies rotting in the
street, and rudely interrupted Louisiana Senator
Mary Landrieu when she began thanking federal
officials for their efforts. When people "listen
to politicians thanking one another and
complimenting each other," he told her, "you
know, I got to tell you, there are a lot of
people here who are very upset, and very angry,
and very frustrated." After receiving much
praise, Cooper in early November was named to
replace Aaron Brown as the host of CNN's NewsNight.
By then, Judith Miller was trying to salvage her
reputation. After eighty-five days in jail for
refusing to testify to the grand jury in the
Valerie Plame leak case, she was greeted not with
widespread appreciation for her sacrifice in
protecting her source but with angry questions
about her relations with Lewis Libby and her
dealings with her editors, one of whom, Bill
Keller, said he regretted he "had not sat her
down for a thorough debriefing" after she was
subpoenaed as a witness. The controversy revived
the simmering resentment among her fellow
reporters, and many Times readers, over her
reporting on Iraq's weapons of mass destruction.
In the Times's account, published on October 16,
Miller acknowledged for the first time that
"WMDI got it totally wrong." Bill Keller said
that after becoming the paper's executive editor
in 2003, he had told Miller that she could no
longer cover Iraq and weapons issues, but that
"she kept drifting on her own back into the
national security realm." For her part, Miller
insisted that she had "cooperated with editorial
decisions" and expressed regret that she was not
allowed to do follow-up reporting on why the
intelligence on WMD had been so wrong; on
November 8, she agreed to leave the Times after
twenty-eight years at the paper.[1]
advertisement
These contrasting tales suggest something about
the changing state of American journalism. For
many reporters, the bold coverage of the effects
of the hurricane, and of the administration's
glaring failure to respond effectively, has
helped to begin making up for their timid
reporting on the existence of WMD. Among some
journalists I've spoken with, shame has given way
to pride, and there is much talk about the need
to get back to the basic responsibility of
reporters, to expose wrongdoing and the failures
of the political system. In recent weeks,
journalists have been asking more pointed
questions at press conferences, attempting to
investigate cronyism and corruption in the White
House and Congress, and doing more to document
the plight of people without jobs or a place to live.
Will such changes prove lasting? In a previous
article, I described many of the external
pressures besetting journalists today, including
a hostile White House, aggressive conservative
critics, and greedy corporate owners.[2] Here, I
will concentrate on the press's internal
problemsnot on its many ethical and professional
lapses, which have been extensively discussed
elsewhere, but rather on the structural problems
that keep the press from fulfilling its
responsibilities to serve as a witness to
injustice and a watchdog over the powerful. To
some extent, these problems consist of
professional practices and proclivities that
inhibit reporting a reliance on "access," an
excessive striving for "balance," an uncritical
fascination with celebrities. Equally important
is the increasing isolation of much of the
profession from disadvantaged Americans and the
difficulties they face. Finally, and most
significantly, there's the political climate in
which journalists work. Today's political
pressures too often breed in journalists a
tendency toward self-censorship, toward shying
away from the pursuit of truths that might prove
unpopular, whether with official authorities or the public.
1.
In late October 2004, Ken Silverstein, an
investigative reporter in the Washington bureau
of the Los Angeles Times, went to St. Louis to
write about Democratic efforts to mobilize
African-American voters. In 2000, the Justice
Department later found, many of the city's black
voters had been improperly turned away from the
polls by Republican Party officials. Democrats
were charging the Republicans with preparing to
do the same in 2004, and Silverstein found
evidence for their claim. Republican officials
accused the Democrats of similar irregularities,
but their case seemed flimsy by comparison, a
point that even a local Republican official acknowledged to him.
While doing his research, however, Silverstein
learned that the Los Angeles Times had sent
reporters to several other states to report on
charges of voter fraud, and, further, that his
findings were going to be incorporated into a
larger national story about how both parties in
those states were accusing each other of fraud
and intimidation. The resulting story, bearing
the bland headline "Partisan Suspicions Run High in Swing States," described
the extraordinarily rancorous and
mistrustful atmosphere that pervades battleground
states in the final days of the presidential
campaign. In Wisconsin, Ohio, Missouri,
Pennsylvania, Oregon and other key states,
Democrats and Republicans seem convinced their
opponents are bent on stealing the election.
The section on Missouri gave equal time to the
claims of Democrats and Republicans.
Troubled by this outcome, Silverstein sent an
editor a memo outlining his concerns. The paper's
"insistence on 'balance' is totally misleading
and leads to utterly spineless reporting with no
edge," he wrote. In Missouri, there was "a real
effort on the part of the GOP...to suppress
pro-Dem constituencies." The GOP complaints, by
contrast, "concern isolated cases that are not
going to impact the outcome of the election." He went on:
I am completely exasperated by this approach
to the news. The idea seems to be that we go out
to report but when it comes time to write we turn
our brains off and repeat the spin from both
sides. God forbid we should...attempt to fairly
assess what we see with our own eyes. "Balanced"
is not fair, it's just an easy way of avoiding
real reporting and shirking our responsibility to inform readers.
This is not to deny that the best newspapers run
many first-rate stories, Silverstein said, or
that reporters working on long-term projects are
often given leeway to "pile up evidence and
demonstrate a case." During the last year, he has
written articles on the ties between the CIA and
the Sudanese intelligence service; on American
oil companies' political and economic alliances
with corrupt third-world regimes; and on
conflicts of interest involving Pennsylvania
Congressman John Murtha. When it comes to
political coverage, though, Silverstein told me,
newspapers are too often "afraid of being seen as
having an opinion." They fear "provoking a
reaction in which they'll be accused of bias,
however unfounded the charge." The insistence on
a "spurious balance," he says, is a widespread
problem in how TV and print organizations cover news. "It's very stifling."
As Silverstein suggests, this fear of bias, and
of appearing unbalanced, acts as a powerful
sedative on American journalistsone whose effect
has been magnified by the incessant attacks of
conservative bloggers and radio talk-show
hosts.[3] One reason journalists performed so
poorly in the months before the Iraq war was that
there were few Democrats willing to criticize the
Bush administration on the record; without such
cover, journalists feared they would be branded
as hostile to the President and labeled as
"liberal" by conservative commentators.
The Plame leak case has provided further insight
into the relation between the journalistic and
political establishments. It's now clear that
Lewis Libby was an important figure in the White
House and a key architect of the administration's
push for war in Iraq. Many journalists seem to
have spoken with him regularly, and to have been
fully aware of his power, yet virtually none
bothered to inform the public about him, much
less scrutinize his actions on behalf of the
vice-president. A search of major newspapers in
the fifteen months before the war turned up
exactly one substantial article about Libbya
breezy piece by Elisabeth Bumiller in the The New
York Times about his novel The Apprentice.
In reporting on the government, the Los Angeles
Times, like other papers, faces another serious
constraint. As a result of budget cuts imposed by
its corporate owner, The Tribune Company, the
Times recently reduced its Washington staff from
sixty-one to fifty-five (of whom thirty-nine are
reporters). Doyle McManus, the bureau chief, says
the paper is stretched very thin. Since September
11, 2001, he has had to assign so many reporters
(eight at the moment) to covering news about
national security that many domestic issues have
been neglected. The Times has only four daily
reporters to cover everything from health care to
labor to the regulatory agencies, and it has no
regular reporter in Washington dealing with the
problems of the environment. "It's nuts for a
California paper to have its environmental job
open this long," McManus says. The Chicago
Tribune, he said, has a full-time agriculture
writer whose beat includes agribusiness and its
activities in Wash-ington. Despite the huge
national political influence of agricultural
interests, the Los Angeles Times, like most other
big US papers, lacks the resources to report on them regularly.
The same is true of most of official Washington.
At no time since before the New Deal, perhaps,
has corporate America had so much power and so
much influence in Washington. Between 1998 and
2004, the amount of money spent on lobbying the
federal government doubled to nearly $3 billion a
year, according to the Center for Public
Integrity, a watchdog group. The US Chamber of
Commerce alone spent $53 million in 2004. During
the last six years, General Motors has spent $48
million and Ford $41 million. Before joining the
Bush White House, chief of staff Andrew Card
worked as a lobbyist for the big auto companies.
To what extent have such payments and activities
contributed to the virtual freeze on the
fuel-efficiency standards that have long been in
effect in the US and which have helped to produce
the current oil crisis? More generally, how have
corporations used their extraordinary wealth to
win tax breaks, gain no-bid contracts, and bend
administrative rules to their liking? On November
10, The Wall Street Journal ran a probing
front-page piece about how the textile industry,
through intensive lobbying, won quotas on Chinese
importsan example of the type of analysis that
far too rarely appears in our leading
publications. "Wall Street's influence in
Washington has been one of the most undercovered
areas in journalism for decades," according to
Charles Lewis, the former director of the Center for Public Integrity.
Of course, corporations are extensively covered
in the business sections of most newspapers.
These began growing in size in the 1970s and
1980s, and today The New York Times has about
sixty reporters assigned to business. The Times,
along with The Wall Street Journal, runs many
stories raising questions about corporate
behavior. For the most part, though, the business
sections are addressed to members of the business
world and are mainly concerned to provide them
with information they can use to invest their
money, manage their companies, and understand
Wall Street trends. Reflecting this narrow focus,
the business press in the 1980s largely missed
the savings and loan scandal. In the 1990s, it
published enthusiastic reports on the high-tech
boom, then watched in bafflement as it collapsed.
Of the hundreds of American business reporters,
only oneFortune's Bethany McLeanhad the
independence and courage to raise questions about
the high valuation of Enron's stock. The criminal
activities in recent years of not only Exxon but
also WorldCom, Tyco, Adelphia, and other
corporate malefactors have largely been exposed
not by the business press but by public
prosecutors; and the fate of the companies
involved, and of those who were damaged by their
lies, has been only fitfully followed up.
While business sections grow larger, the labor
beat remains very solitary. In contrast to the
many reporters covering business, the Times has
only one, Steven Greenhouse, writing full-time
about labor and workplace issues. (Several other
Times reporters cover labor-related issues as
part of their beats.) Greenhouse seems to be
everywhere at once, reporting on union politics,
low-wage workers, and corporate labor practices.
More than any other big-city reporter, he has
called attention to Wal-Mart's Dickensian working
conditions. Yet he could surely use some help.
When, for instance, General Motors recently
announced that it was scaling back health
benefits for its workforce, the story appeared on
the Times's front page for a day, then settled
back into the business section, where it was
treated as another business story. As a result,
the paper has largely overlooked the painful
social effects that the retrenchments at GM, the
auto-parts company Delphi, and other
manufacturing concerns have had on the Midwest.
More generally, the staffs of our top news
organizations, who tend to be well-paid members
of the upper middle class living mostly on the
East and West Coasts, have limited contact with
blue-collar America and so provide only sporadic coverage of its concerns.
This summer, Nancy Cleeland, after more than six
years as the lone labor reporter at the Los
Angeles Times, left her beat. She made the move
"out of frustration," she told me. Her editors
"really didn't want to have labor stories. They
were always looking at labor from a management
and business perspective'how do we deal with
these guys?'" In 2003, Cleeland was one of
several reporters on a three-part series about
Wal-Mart's labor practices that won the Times a
Pulitzer Prize. That, she had hoped, would
convince her editors of the value of covering
labor, but in the end it didn't, she says. "They
don't consider themselves hostile to
working-class concerns, but they're all making
too much money to relate to the problems that
working-class people are facing," observed
Cleeland, who is now writing about high school
dropouts. Despite her strong urging, the paper
has yet to name anyone to replace her. (Russ
Stanton, the Los Angeles Times's business editor,
says that the paper did value Cleeland's
reporting, as shown by her many front-page
stories. However, with his section recently
losing six of its forty-eight reporters and
facing more cuts, he said, her position is unlikely to be filled anytime soon.)
2.
On August 30the same day the waters of Lake
Pontchartrain inundated New Orleansthe Census
Bureau released its annual report on the nation's
economic well-being. It showed that the poverty
rate had increased to 12.7 percent in 2004 from
12.5 percent in the previous year. In New York
City, where so many national news organizations
have their headquarters, the rate rose from 19
percent in 2003 to 20.3 percent in 2004, meaning
that one in every five New Yorkers is poor. On
the Upper West Side of Manhattan, where Iand
many editors of The New York Timeslive, the
number of homeless people has visibly grown. Yet
somehow they rarely appear in the pages of the press.
In 1998, Jason DeParle, after covering the debate
in Washington over the 1996 Welfare Reform Act as
well as its initial implementation, convinced his
editors at The New York Times to let him live
part-time in Milwaukee so that he could see
Wisconsin's experimental approach up close. They
agreed, and over the next year DeParle's
reporting helped keep the welfare issue in the
public eye. In 2000, he took a leave to write a
book about the subject,[4] and the Times did not
name anyone to replace him on the national
poverty beat. And it still hasn't. Earlier this
year, the Times ran a monumental series on class,
and, in its day-to-day coverage of immigration,
Med- icaid, and foster care, it does examine the
problems of the poor, but certainly the stark
deprivation afflicting the nation's urban cores
deserves more systematic attention.
In March, Time magazine featured on its cover a
story headlined "How to End Poverty," which was
about poverty in the developing world. Concerning
poverty in this country, the magazine ran very,
very little in the first eight months of the
year, before Hurricane Katrina. Here are some of
the covers Time chose to run in that period:
"Meet the Twixters: They Just Won't Grow Up";
"The 25 Most Influential Evangelicals in
America"; "The Right (and Wrong) Way to Treat
Pain"; "Hail, Mary" (the Virgin Mary); "Ms.
Right" (Anne Coulter); "The Last Star Wars"; "A
Female Midlife Crisis?"; "Inside Bill's New
X-Box" (Bill Gates's latest video game machine);
"Lose That Spare Tire!" (weight-loss tips);
"Being 13"; "The 25 Most Influential Hispanics in
America"; "Hip Hop's Class Act"; and "How to Stop a Heart Attack."
The magazine's editors put special energy into
their April 18 cover, "The Time 100." Now in its
second year, this annual feature salutes the
hundred "most influential" people in the world,
including most recently NBA forward Lebron James,
country singer Melissa Etheridge, filmmaker
Quentin Tarantino, Ann Coulter (again!),
journalist Malcolm Gladwell, and evangelical
best-selling author Rick Warren. Time enlisted
additional celebrities to write profiles of some
of the chosen one hundredTom Brokaw on Jon
Stewart, Bono on Jeffrey Sachs, Donald Trump on
Martha Stewart, and Henry Kissinger on
Condoleezza Rice (she's handling the challenges
facing her "with panache and conviction" and is
enjoying "a nearly unprecedented level of
authority"). To celebrate, Time invited the
influentials and their chroniclers to a black-tie
gala at Jazz at Lincoln Center in the Time-Warner Building.
A staff member of Time's business department told
me that the "100" issue is highly valued because
of the amount of advertising it generates. In
2004, for instance, when Hewlett-Packard CEO
Carly Fiorina was named a "Builder and Titan,"
her company bought a two-page spread in the
issue. Because Time's parent company, Time
Warner, must post strong quarterly earnings to
please Wall Street, the pressure to turn out such
moneymakers remains intense. By contrast, there's
little advertising to be had from writing about
inner-city mothers, so the magazine seems
unlikely to alter its coverage in any significant way.
Time's "100" gala is only one of the many glitzy
events on the journalists' social calendar. The
most popular is the White House Correspondents'
Dinner. This year, hundreds of the nation's top
journalists showed up at the Washington Hilton to
mix with White House officials, military brass,
Cabinet chiefs, diplomats, and actors. Laura
Bush's naughty Desperate Housewives routine, in
which she teased her husband for his early-to-bed
habits and his attempt to milk a male horse, was
shown over and over on the TV news; what wasn't
shown was journalists jumping to their feet and
applauding wildly. Afterward, many of the
journalists and their guests went to the hot
post-dinner party, hosted by Bloomberg News. On
his blog, The Nation's David Corn described
arriving with Newsweek's Mike Isikoff, New York
Times columnist Maureen Dowd, and Times editor
Jill Abramson. Seeing the long line, Corn feared
he wouldn't get in, but suddenly Arianna
Huffington showed up and "whisked me into her
entourage." Huffington, he noted, asked everyone
she encounteredWesley Clark, John Podestaif
they'd like to participate in her new celebrity-rich mega-blog.
It was left to Jon Stewart on The Daily Show to
imagine what the journalists and politicos at the
dinner were saying to one another: "Deep down,
we're both entrenched oligarchies with a stake in
maintaining the status quoenjoy your scrod."
A ruthlessly self-revealing look at journalists'
obsession with celebrity was provided earlier
this year by Bernard Weinraub. Writing in The New
York Times about his experience covering
Hollywood for the paper between 1991 and 2005, he
told of becoming friendly with Jeffrey Katzenberg
(when he was head of Walt Disney Studios), of
being dazzled by the ranch-style house of
producer Dawn Steel, of resenting the huge
financial gulf between him and the people he was covering. He recalled:
Waiting for a valet at the Bel-Air Hotel to
bring my company-leased Ford, I once stood beside
a journalist turned producer who said, "I used to
drive a car like that." Though I'm ashamed to say
it, I was soon hunting for parking spots near
Orso or the Peninsula Hotel to avoid the
discomfort of having a valet drive up my leased
two-year-old Buick in front of some luncheon companion with a Mercedes.
During the 1990s, the Times reporters, Weinraub
among them, breathlessly recorded every move of
the agent Michael Ovitz. Today, it does the same
for Harvey Weinstein. The paper's coverage of
movies, TV, pop music, and video games
concentrates heavily on ratings, box-office
receipts, moguls, boardroom struggles, media
strategists, power agents, who's up and who's
down. The paper pays comparatively little
attention to the social or political effects of
pop culture, including how middle Americans
regard the often sensational and violent
entertainment that nightly invades their homes.
As in the case of factory shutdowns, journalists
at the elite papers are not in touch with such
people and so rarely write about them.[5]
3.
All of the problems affecting newspapers appear
in even more acute form when it comes to TV. The
loss of all three of the famous anchors of the
broadcast networks has led to much anxiety about
the future, and CBS's decision to name Sean
McManus, the president of its sports division, as
its new news chief has done little to allay it.
Yet even under Peter Jennings, Tom Brokaw, and
Dan Rather, the network news divisions had become
stale and predictable. After September 11, there
was much talk about how the networks had to
recover their traditional mission and educate
Americans about the rest of the world, yet one
need only watch the evening news for a night or
two to see how absurd were such expectations. On
November 4, for instance, CBS's Bob Schieffer
spent a few fleeting moments commenting on some
footage of the recent rioting by young Muslims in
France before introducing a much longer segment
on stolen cell phones and the anxiety they cause
their owners. ABC's World News Tonight's most
frequent feature, "Medicine on the Cutting Edge,"
seems directed mainly at offering tips to its
aging viewers about how they might hold out for a
few more yearsand at providing the drug
companies a regular ad platform. In 2004, the
three networks together devoted 1,174 minutes
nearly twenty full hoursto missing women, all of them white.
Decrying the decline of network news has long
been a popular pastime. The movie Good Night, and
Good Luck features a famous jeremiad that Edward
R. Murrow delivered at a meeting of the Radio and
TV News Directors Association in 1958, in which
he assailed the broadcast industry for being
"fat, comfortable, and complacent." In 1988, the
journalist Peter Boyer published a book titled
Who Killed CBS? (The answer: CBS News President
Van Gordon Sauter.) Tom Fenton's more recent Bad
News: The Decline of Reporting, the Business of
News, and the Danger to Us All, is especially
revealing, drawing as it does on extensive
firsthand experience. In 1970, when Fenton went
to work for CBS, in Rome, the bureau there had
three correspondentspart of a global network
that included fourteen major foreign bureaus, ten
mini-bureaus, and stringers in forty-four
countries. Today, CBS has eight foreign
correspondents and three bureaus. Four of the
correspondents are based in London, where they
are kept busy doing voice-overs for video feeds
from the Associated Press and Reutersthe form
that most international news on the networks now takes.
During his years at CBS, Fenton writes, he took
pride in finding important stories:
That was my job, my fun, my lifeuntil the
megacorporations that have taken over the major
American television news companies squeezed the
life out of foreign news reporting.
Of the many people in the business he spoke with
while researching his book, he writes, "almost
everyone" agreed that the networks "are doing an
inadequate job reporting world news." Among the
exceptions were Brokaw, Jennings, and Rather,
none of whom, he writes, "seemed to share my
intensity of concern at the lack of foreign news
and context on their shows." Fenton writes
angrily about the immense sums the anchors were
pulling down while their bureaus were being
shuttered. Noting Tom Brokaw's plans to retire as
anchor and do more investigative reporting, he
asks, "What was stopping him from sending his
correspondents out to do that for the last
fifteen years or so?" (The answer is hinted at in
Fenton's brief acknowledgment that foreign
stories cost twice as much to produce as domestic ones.)
In Fenton's view, the press has grown so lax that
"anyone with the merest enterprise can have a
field day cherry-picking gigantic unreported
stories." He quotes Seymour Hersh as saying he
couldn't believe all the overlooked stories he
was able to report on simply because The New
Yorker allowed him to write what he wanted.
Fenton lists some major stories that remain
neglected, including the influence of Saudi money
on US policies toward the Middle East, the links
between the big oil companies and the White
House, and the largely ignored dark side of Kurdish activities in Iraq.
"Nowhere has the news media's ignorant
performance been more egregious than in its
handling of the Kurds," he writes, "a catalogue
of sorry incompetence and dangerous
misinformation that continues to this day." He
mentions the murderous feuds between the two
Kurdish strongmen Jalal Talabani and Massoud
Barzani, and the "tribulations and suffering" of
minorities like the Turcomans and Assyrian
Christians living under the "strong arm of
Kurdish rule." The Kurds have always been cast as
good guys, and no American news organization, he
writes, "wants to burden us with such complex and
challenging details. You never know what might
happenviewers might switch to another channel."
4.
Iraq remains by far the most important story for
the US press, showing its strengths as well as
its many weaknessesespecially the way in which
political realities shape, define, and ultimately
limit what Americans see and read. The nation's
principal news organizations deserve praise for
remaining committed to covering the war in the
face of lethal risks, huge costs, and public
apathy. Normally The Washington Post has four
correspondents in the country, backed by more
than two dozen Iraqis, as well as three armored
cars costing $100,000. The New York Times bureau
costs $1.5 million a year to maintain. And many
excellent reports have resulted. In June, for
instance, The Wall Street Journal ran a revealing
front-page story by Farnaz Fassihi about how the
violence between Muslim groups in Iraq had
destroyed a longtime friendship between two
Baghdad neighbors, one Sunni and the other
Shiite. In October, in The Washington Post,
Steven Fainaru described how Kurdish political
parties were repatriating thousands of Kurds in
the northern oil city of Kirkuk, setting off
fighting between Kurdish settlers and local
Arabs. And in The New York Times, Sabrina
Tavernise described how the growing chaos in Iraq
was eroding the living standards of middle-class
Iraqis, turning their frustration "into hopelessness."
Just a few months before, at the start of the
year, however, the tone of the coverage was very
different. President Bush, fresh from his
reelection, was enjoying broad public support,
and he was making the most of Iraq's January 30
election, which was widely proclaimed a success.
The anti-Syria demonstrations in Lebanon and the
election of Mahmoud Abbas as the president of the
Palestinian Authority only added to the
impression of the growing success of Bush's
foreign policy. Journalists rushed to praise his
leadership and sagacity. "What Bush Got Right,"
Newsweek declared on its March 14 cover. Recent
developments in Iraq, Lebanon, and elsewhere in
the Middle East had "vindicated" the President,
the magazine declared. "Across New York, Los
Angeles and Chicagoand probably Europe and Asia
as wellpeople are nervously asking themselves a
question: 'Could he possibly have been right?'
The short answer is yes." Another article,
headlined "Condi's Clout Offensive," hailed the
new secretary of state, noting how she "has
rushed onto the world stage with force and style,
and with the fair wind of the Arab Democratic
Spring at her back." Rounding out the package was
"To the Front," a look at US soldiers who, having
lost limbs in Iraq and Afghanistan, "are doing
the unthinkable: Going back into battle."
On CNN, Wolf Blitzer was daily celebrating Iraq's
strides toward democracy. On April 6, for
instance, after the Kurdish leader Jalal Talabani
was selected as Iraq's new president, Blitzer
asked Robin Wright of The Washington Post and
Kenneth Pollack of the Brookings Institution
about him and his two deputies. Blitzer,
addressing Wright, said, "They're all pretty
moderate and they're pretty pro-American, is that fair?"
"Absolutely," said Wright. "These are people who
have been educated in the West, have had contacts
with Western countries, particularly in the United States...."
Blitzer: Your sense is this is about as
good, Ken Pollack, as the US, as the Bush
administration, as the American public could have
hoped for, at least as a start for this new Iraqi democracy.
Pollack: Absolutely. I think the Bush
administration has to be pleased with the personnel.
Such leading questions provide a good example of
Blitzer's interviewing style, which seems
designed to make sure his guests say nothing
remotely spontaneous; the exchange also makes
clear the deference that CNN, and the press as a
whole, showed President Bush just after his
reelection, during the first months of the year.
Throughout this period, violence continued to
plague Iraq, but stories about it were mostly
consigned to the inside pages. US soldiers
continued to die, but this news was mostly
relegated to the "crawl" along the bottom of the cable news shows.
Then, in April, insurgent attacks began to
increase, and Bush's popularity began to slide.
As oil prices rose and the Plame leak
investigation got more attention, political space
for tougher reporting began to open up. The
stories about assassinations and ambushes that
had earlier been buried began appearing on the
front page, and Wolf Blitzer, newly emboldened,
began questioning his guests about US exit strategies.
By late October, when the two-thousandth US
serviceman died, the news was splashed across the
nation's front pages. "2,000 Dead: As Iraq Tours
Stretch On, a Grim Mark," declared The New York
Times. As the Times's Katharine Seelye pointed
out a few days later, this milestone received far
more press attention than had the earlier one of one thousand, in April 2004.
5.
Still, there remained firm limits on what could
be reported out of Iraq. Especially taboo were
frank accounts of the actions of US troops in the
field particularly when those actions resulted
in the deaths of Iraqi civilians.
On the same day The Times ran its front-page
story about the two thousand war dead, for
instance, it ran another piece on page A12 about
the rising toll of Iraqi civilians. Since the US
military does not issue figures on this subject,
Sabrina Tavernise relied on Iraq Body Count, a
nonprofit Web site that keeps a record of
casualty figures from news accounts. The site,
she wrote, placed the number of dead civilians
since the start of the US invasion at between
26,690 and 30,051. (Even the higher number was
probably too low, the article noted, since many
deaths do not find their way into news reports.)
The Times deserves credit simply for running this
storyfor acknowledging that, as high a price as
American soldiers have paid in the war, the one
paid by Iraqi civilians has been much higher.
Remarkably, though, in discussing the cause of
those deaths, the article mentioned only
insurgents. Not once did it raise the possibility
that some of those deaths might have come at the hands of the "Coalition."
This is typical. A survey of the Times's coverage
of Iraq in the month of October shows that, while
regularly reporting civilian deaths caused by the
insurgents, it rarely mentioned those inflicted
by Americans; when it did, it was usually deep
inside the paper, and heavily qualified. Thus, on
October 18 the Times ran a brief article at the
bottom of page A11 headlined "Scores Are Killed
by American Airstrikes in Sunni Insurgent
Stronghold West of Baghdad." Citing military
sources, the article noted in its lead that the
air strikes had been launched "against
insurgents" in the embattled city of Ramadi,
"killing as many as 70 people." A US Army colonel
was cited as saying that a group of insurgents in
four cars had been spotted "trying to roll
artillery shells into a large crater in eastern
Ramadi that had been caused when a roadside bomb
exploded the day before, killing five US and two
Iraqi soldiers." At that point, according to the
Times, "an F-15 fighter plane dropped a guided
bomb on the area, killing all 20 men on the
ground." The Times went on to report the
colonel's claim that "no civilians had been
killed in the strikes." In one sentence, the
article noted that Reuters, "citing hospital
officials in Ramadi," had reported "that
civilians had been killed." It did not elaborate.
Instead, it went on to mention other incidents in
Ramadi in which US helicopters and fighter planes had killed "insurgents."
The AP told a very different story. The "group of
insurgents" that the military claimed had been
hit by the F-15 was actually "a group of around
two dozen Iraqis gathered around the wreckage of
the US military vehicle" that had been attacked
the previous day, the AP reported.
The military said in a statement that the
crowd was setting another roadside bomb in the
location of the blast that killed the Americans.
F-15 warplanes hit them with a precision-guided
bomb, killing 20 people, described by the statement as "terrorists."
But several witnesses and one local leader
said the people were civilians who had gathered
to gawk at the wreckage of the US vehicle or pick
pieces off of itas often occurs after an American vehicle is hit.
The airstrike hit the crowd, killing 25
people, said Chiad Saad, a tribal leader, and
several witnesses who refused to give their names....
Readers of the Times learned none of these details.
This is not an isolated case. Regularly reading
the paper's Iraq coverage during the last few
months, I have found very little mention of
civilians dying at the hands of US forces. No
doubt the violence on Iraq's streets keeps
reporters from going to these sites to interview
witnesses, but Times stories seldom notify
readers that its reporters were unable to
question witnesses to civilian casualties because
of the danger they would face in going to the
site of the attack. Yet the paper regularly
publishes official military claims about dead
insurgents without any independent confirmation.
After both General Tommy Franks and Donald
Rumsfeld declared in 2003 that "we don't do body
counts," the US military has quietly begun doing
just that. And the Times generally relays those
counts without questioning them.
In any discussion of civilian casualties, it is
important to distinguish between the insurgents,
who deliberately target civilians, and the US
military, which does notwhich, in fact, goes out
of its way to avoid them.[6] Nonetheless, all
indications point to a very high toll at the
hands of the US. As seems to have been the case
in Ramadi, many of the deaths have resulted from
aerial bombardment. Since the start of the
invasion, the United States has dropped 50,000
bombs on Iraq.[7] About 30,000 were dropped
during the five weeks of the war proper. Though
most of the 50,000 bombs have been aimed at
military targets, they have undoubtedly caused
much "collateral damage," and claimed an untold number of civilian lives.
But according to Marc Garlasco of Human Rights
Watch, the toll from ground actions is probably
much higher. Garlasco speaks with special
authority; before he joined Human Rights Watch,
in mid-April 2003, he worked for the Pentagon,
helping to select targets for the air war in
Iraq. During the ground war, he says, the
military's use of cluster bombs was especially
lethal. In just a few days of fighting in the
city of Hilla, south of Baghdad, Human Rights
Watch found that cluster bombs killed or injured
more than five hundred civilians.
Since the end of the ground war, Garlasco says,
many civilians have been killed in crossfire
between US and insurgent forces. Others have been
shot by US military convoys; soldiers in Humvees,
seeking to avoid being hit by suicide bombers,
not infrequently fire on cars that get too close,
and many turn out to have civilians inside.
According to Garlasco, private security
contractors kill many civilians; they tend to be
"loosey-goosey" in their approach, he says,
"opening fire if people don't get out of the way quickly enough."
Probably the biggest source of civilian
casualties, though, is Coalition checkpoints.
These can go up anywhere at any time, and though
they are supposed to be well marked, they are in
practice often hard to detect, especially at
night, and US soldiersunderstandably wary of
suicide bombers often shoot first and ask
questions later. Many innocent Iraqis have died in the process.[8]
Such killings came into public view in March,
when the car carrying Italian journalist Giuliana
Sgrena, rushing to the Baghdad airport after her
release from captivity, was fired on by US
troops; she was badly wounded and the Italian
intelligence officer accompanying her was killed.
Three days after the incident, The New York Times
ran a revealing front-page story headlined "US
Checkpoints Raise Ire in Iraq." Next to the
prisoner abuse scandal at Abu Ghraib, John Burns wrote,
no other aspect of the American military
presence in Iraq has caused such widespread
dismay and anger among Iraqis, judging by their
frequent outbursts on the subject. Daily reports
compiled by Western security companies chronicle
many incidents in which Iraqis with no apparent
connection to the insurgency are killed or
wounded by American troops who have opened fire
on suspicion that the Iraqis were engaged in a terrorist attack.
US and Iraqi officials said they had no figures
on such casualties, Burns reported,
but any Westerner working in Iraq comes
across numerous accounts of apparently innocent
deaths and injuries among drivers and passengers
who drew American fire, often in circumstances
that have left the Iraqis puzzled, wondering what, if anything, they did wrong.
Many, he said, "tell of being fired on with little or no warning."
Burns's account showed that it was possible to
write such stories despite the pervasive
violence, and despite the lack of official
figures. While few such stories have appeared in
this country, they are common abroad. "If you go
to the Middle East, that's all you hear aboutthe
US killing civilians," Marc Garlasco observes. "It's on the news all the time."
In this country, one can catch glimpses of this
reality in documentaries like the recently
released Occupation: Dreamland, in which
directors Garrett Scott and Ian Olds, drawing on
the six weeks they spent with an Army unit
stationed outside Fallujah, show how the
best-intentioned soldiers, faced with a hostile
population speaking a strange language and
worshiping an alien God, can routinely resort to
actions designed to intimidate and humiliate. One
can also find glimpses in The New York Times
Magazine, which has been much bolder than the
daily New York Times. In May, Peter Maass,
writing in the Times Magazine, described how
Iraqi commando units, trained by US
counterinsurgency experts, are fighting a "dirty
war" in which beatings, torture, and even
executions are routine. And in October, Dexter
Filkins, also in the Times Magazine, described
the sobering case of Lieutenant Colonel Nathan
Sassaman, a West Point graduate who, under
constant attacks in a volatile Sunni area,
approved rough tactics against the local
population, including forcing local Iraqi men to
jump into a canal as punishment. One died as a result.
Only by reading and watching such accounts is it
possible to fathom the depths of Iraqi hatred for
the United States. It's not the simple fact of
occupation that's at work, but the way that
occupation is being carried out, and the daily
indignities, humiliations, and deaths that
accompany it. If reports of such actions appeared
more frequently in the press, they could help
raise questions about the strategy the US is
pursuing in Iraq and encourage discussion of
whether there's a better way to deploy US troops.
Why are such reports so rare? The simple lack of
language skills is one reason. Captain Zachary
Miller, who commanded a company of US troops in
eastern Baghdad in 2004 and who is now studying
at the Kennedy School of Government, told me that
of the fifty or so Western journalists who went
out on patrol with his troops, hardly any spoke
Arabic, and few bothered to bring interpreters.
As a result, they were totally dependent on
Miller and his fellow soldiers. "Normally, the
reporters didn't ask questions of the Iraqis," he said. "They asked me."
In addition, many US journalists feel queasy
about quoting eyewitnesses who offer information
that runs counter to statements put out by the US
military. Journalists don't like writing stories
in which an Iraqi civilian's word is pitted
against that of a US officer, regardless of how
much evidence there is to back up the civilian's
claims. The many tough pieces in the press about
abuses at Abu Ghraib, Guantánamo, and secret
detention facilities usually have official US
sources and so are less open to challenge.
Even more important, though, I believe, are
political realities. The abuses that US troops
routinely commit in the field, and their
responsibility for the deaths of many thousands
of innocent Iraqis, are viewed by the American
press as too sensitive for most Americans to see
or read about. When NBC cameraman Kevin Sites
filmed a US soldier fatally shooting a wounded
Iraqi man in Fallujah, he was harassed, denounced
as an antiwar activist, and sent death threats.
Such incidents feed the deep-seated fear that
many US journalists have of being accused of
being anti-American, of not supporting the troops
in the field. These subjects remain off-limits.
Of course, if the situation in Iraq were further
to unravel, or if President Bush were to become
more unpopular, the boundaries of the acceptable
might expand further, and subjects such as these
might begin appearing on our front pages. It's
regrettable, though, that editors and reporters
have to wait for such developments. Of all the
internal problems confronting the press, the
reluctance to venture into politically sensitive
matters, to report disturbing truths that might
unsettle and provoke, remains by far the most troubling.
On November 8, I turned on CNN's Anderson Cooper
360 to see how the host was doing in his new job.
It was Election Day, and I was hoping to find
some analysis of the results. Instead, I found
Cooper leading a discussion on a new sex survey
conducted by Men's Fitness and Shape magazines. I
learned that 82 percent of men think they're good
or excellent in bed, and that New Yorkers report
they have more sex than the residents of any
other state. At that moment, New Orleans and
Katrina seemed to be in a galaxy far, far away.
November 16, 2005
This is the second of two articles.
Notes
[1] Her comments on her case are available at JudithMiller.org.
[2] See "The End of News?," The New York Review, December 1, 2005.
[3] See the discussion of conservative new commentators in "The End of News?"
[4] American Dream: Three Women, Ten Kids, and a
Nation's Drive to End Welfare (Viking, 2004); see
the review by Christopher Jencks in this issue of The New York Review.
[5] For more on this subject, see my article "Off
Course," Columbia Journalism Review, July/August 2005.
[6] See, for example, Human Rights Watch, "A Face
and a Name: Civilian Victims of Insurgent Groups in Iraq," October 3, 2005.
[7] See the NPR show This American Life, "What's
in a Number?" October 28, 2005.
[8] Human Rights Watch has issued many reports
about the civilian victims of US military
actions, including "Civilian Deaths/Checkpoints,"
October 2003, in which it observed that "the
individual cases of civilian deaths documented in
this report reveal a pattern by US forces of
over-aggressive tactics, indiscriminate shooting
in residential areas and a quick reliance on lethal force."
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