Who can forget Judith Miller, the New York Timesreporter whose stories, claiming falsely that Iraq had developed weapons of mass destruction, were used by the Bush administration as a pretext for invading that country in 2003 to topple the regime of Saddam Hussein? The failure of the news media to investigate the truth of these allegations is often cited as a key factor in leading our nation into a dubious war, which has claimed hundreds of thousands of Iraqi and American casualties, and cost more in dollars (even after factoring in inflation) than World War II.
The news media professes neutrality in its coverage of war. Yet, by routinely repeating government arguments and assertions as facts, journalists like Miller make themselves accessories to the conflicts upon which they report. Another Times pundit, Thomas Friedman, argued repeatedly in his influential column, during the run up to the war, that invading Iraq would bolster American influence in that crucial region and help "bring democracy to the Middle East" -- giving the Bush administration the liberal cover it needed for its military adventure.
At the same time as reporters at the Times and other leading outlets were lobbying hard for a U.S. invasion, MSNBC host Phil Donahue had his top-rated show canceled because of his progressive anti-war views. This, according to a recently revealed internal NBC memo which stated that the Emmy-winning TV personality should be fired because he would present "a difficult public face for NBC in a time of war." The rule in the national media nowadays apparently is "only warmongers need apply."
Mainstream outlets like the New York Times are once again beating the tom-toms of war, alleging that Iran is developing nuclear weapons, despite Tehran's claims to the contrary. And, indeed, the assessment of the Director of the National Intelligence Service James Clapper, in testimony before the Senate Armed Services Committee last March was that the intelligence community has a "high level of confidence that Iran has not made a decision as of this point to restart its nuclear weapons program."
The point here is not to come down on one side or the other of the controversial debate about Iran's nuclear intentions. It is merely to point out that, for many in the news media, the matter is already settled. Could this certainty -- where there is none in fact -- once more lead us down the path to war?
By oversimplifying complex narratives, bad journalism cheerleads for simplistic solutions. And nothing is more simplistic than war, the working assumption of which is that every societal ill can be cured by the application of lethal force. If you want to encourage democracy, secure America's oil supply, prevent nuclear proliferation, defeat terrorism, or what have you, no need to grapple with thorny social and political realities. Just call in the Marines!
War at its root is a failure of imagination, a failure to think creatively about alternatives to violent conflict. Such is the argument of "Peace Journalism," a field of study and practice which first emerged in the 1970s from the work of Norwegian sociologist, Johan Galtung.
Galtung, the winner of the Alternative Nobel Prize in 1987, believes that the media's institutional bias toward reporting "official sources" in the government and military means that we generally only hear from those with a vested interest in the use of force, rarely from the people on the ground who will pay for their decisions in blood. The arguments for military action are framed in abstract geopolitical terms and vague appeals to "the national interest" rather than focusing on the terrible human costs of organized state violence.
Galtung goes on to argue that government and the news media share a fondness for war because, to put it bluntly, war is good for business -- albeit in quite different ways. The business of government, in its imperial mode, is to flex its muscle and project its power on weaker nations; the business of journalism, on the other hand, is to increase its ratings. What better way to get a larger audience than to pander to the public's hunger for gore?
War coverage is dominated by graphic battlefield accounts and blood-soaked images. Analysis, if any, tends to focus narrowly on hashing over military strategy rather than examining the subtleties of the diplomatic road to peace. We are told the body count from the latest suicide bombing, but not the economic inequities, ethnic hatreds and historical grievances that have fueled the bomber's rage. Peace marches are not news, explosions are.
The overheated coverage of terrorism and the war on terror creates the false impression that America is under siege and needs to strike back, however indiscriminately. It also means that we do not have to look at the motivations of "the terrorists," because terrorists are by definition hateful actors whose deeds are senseless and beyond rational analysis. Peace journalists counter that if we don't know "the enemy," we won't be able to make peace with him.
To explore the underlying causes for violent acts is not to excuse them, but to understand them. Reporters reflexively take refuge behind "the facts," telling us the who, what, when and where, but leaving out discussion of the all-important "why," the exploration of which is inevitably controversial and might open the journalist to accusations of bias.
Moreover, the news media habitually frames its war reportage in "good guys" versus "bad guys" terms. The good guys are the U.S. and its allies, and the bad guys are everyone else. But is it ever that simple? When I was growing up, my father would refuse to take sides in battles between my sister and I, saying, "It takes two to make a fight." He meant that the blame for our pubescent wars belonged to both of us. There are no innocents in war.
This common-sense wisdom gets lost by the press, which invariably adopts the U.S. point of view. Reporters who are "embedded" in the units of the Armed Forces, tell their stories through a soldier's eye, never from the perspective of an enemy combatant, still less the civilians who get caught in the crossfire.