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Rise of the 'patriotic journalist'</font size></center>
By Robert Parry
Re-printed in the Asia Times
November 19, 2005
Editor's note
September 11, 2001 and subsequent events threw into sharp focus the shortcomings of the media in the United States. In fact, contrary to popular belief, the media had been been in a steep decline for decades prior to the terrorist attacks, as veteran US journalist Robert Parry documents in the article below.
The apex for the "skeptical journalists" came in the mid-1970s when the press followed up exposure of Richard Nixon's Watergate scandal and disclosure of the Vietnam War's Pentagon Papers with revelations of Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) abuses, such as illegal spying on Americans and helping Chile's army oust an elected government.
There were reasons for this new press aggressiveness. After some 57,000 US soldiers had died in Vietnam during a long war
fought for murky reasons, many reporters no longer gave the government the benefit of the doubt.
The press corps' new rallying cry was the public's right to know, even when the wrongdoing occurred in the secretive world of national security.
But this journalistic skepticism represented an affront to government officials who had long enjoyed a relatively free hand in the conduct of foreign policy. The Wise Men and the Old Boys - the stewards of the post-World War II era - now faced a harder time lining up public consensus behind any action.
This national security elite, including then-CIA director George H W Bush, viewed the post-Vietnam journalism as a threat to America's ability to strike at its perceived enemies around the world.
Yet, it was from these ruins of distrust - the rubble of suspicion left behind by Watergate and Vietnam - that the conservative-leaning national security elite began its climb back, eventually coming full circle, gaining effective control of what a more "patriotic" press would tell the people, before stumbling into another disastrous war in Iraq.
Pike report
One early turning point in the switch from "skeptical" journalism to "patriotic" journalism occurred in 1976 with the blocking of Otis Pike's congressional report on CIA misdeeds. CIA director Bush had lobbied behind the scenes to convince Congress that suppressing the report was important for national security.
But CBS news correspondent Daniel Schorr got hold of the full document and decided that he couldn't join in keeping the facts from the public. He leaked the report to the Village Voice – and was fired by CBS amid charges of reckless journalism.
"The media's shift in attention from the report's charges to their premature disclosure was skillfully encouraged by the executive branch," wrote Kathryn Olmstead in her book on the media battles of the 1970s, Challenging the Secret Government.
"[Mitchell] Rogovin, the CIA's counsel, later admitted that the executive branch's 'concern' over the report's damage to national security was less than genuine," Olmstead wrote. But the Schorr case had laid down an important marker.
The counterattack against the "skeptical journalists" had begun.
In the late 1970s, conservative leaders began a concerted drive to finance a media infrastructure of their own along with attack groups that would target mainstream reporters who were viewed as too liberal or insufficiently patriotic.
Nixon's former treasury secretary, Bill Simon, took the lead. Simon, who headed the conservative Olin Foundation, rallied like-minded foundations - associated with Lynde and Harry Bradley, Smith Richardson, the Scaife family and the Coors family - to invest their resources in advancing the conservative cause.
Money went to fund conservative magazines taking the fight to the liberals and to finance attack groups, like Accuracy in Media, that hammered away at the supposed "liberal bias" of the national news media.
Reagan-Bush years
This strategy gained momentum in the early 1980s with the arrival of Ronald Reagan's presidency.
Spearheaded by intellectual policymakers now known as the neo-conservatives, the government developed a sophisticated approach - described internally as "perception management" - that included targeting journalists who wouldn't fall into line.
So, when New York Times correspondent Raymond Bonner reported from El Salvador about right-wing death squads, his accounts were criticized and his patriotism challenged. Bonner then infuriated the White House in early 1982 when he disclosed a massacre by the US-backed Salvadoran army around the town of El Mozote. The story appeared just as Reagan was praising the army's human-rights progress.
Like other journalists who were viewed as overly critical of Reagan's foreign policy, Bonner faced both public attacks on his reputation and private lobbying of his editors, seeking his removal. Bonner soon found his career cut short. After being pulled out of Central America, he resigned from the Times.
Bonner's ouster was another powerful message to the national news media about the fate that awaited reporters who challenged Reagan's White House. (Years later, after a forensic investigation confirmed the El Mozote massacre, the Times rehired Bonner.)
Though conservative activists routinely bemoaned what they called the "liberal media" at the big newspapers and TV networks, the Reagan administration actually found many willing collaborators at senior levels of US news organizations.
At the New York Times, executive editor Abe Rosenthal followed a generally neo-conservative line of intense anticommunism and strong support for Israel. Under new owner Martin Peretz, the supposedly leftist New Republic slid into a similar set of positions, including enthusiastic backing for the Nicaraguan Contra rebels.
Where I worked at the Associated Press, its general manager, Keith Fuller, the company's top executive, was considered a staunch supporter of Reagan's foreign policy and a fierce critic of recent social change. In 1982, Fuller gave a speech condemning the 1960s and praising Reagan's election.
"As we look back on the turbulent Sixties, we shudder with the memory of a time that seemed to tear at the very sinews of this country," Fuller said during a speech in Worcester, adding that Reagan's election a year earlier had represented a nation crying "enough" ...
We don't believe that the union of Adam and Bruce is really the same as Adam and Eve in the eyes of Creation. We don't believe that people should cash welfare checks and spend them on booze and narcotics. We don't really believe that a simple prayer or a pledge of allegiance is against the national interest in the classroom. We're sick of your social engineering. We're fed up with your tolerance of crime, drugs and pornography. But most of all, we're sick of your self-perpetuating, burdening bureaucracy weighing ever more heavily on our backs.
Fuller's sentiments were common in the executive suites of major news organizations, where Reagan's reassertion of an aggressive US foreign policy mostly was welcomed. Working journalists who didn't sense the change in the air were headed for danger.
By the time of Reagan's landslide reelection in 1984, the conservatives had come up with catchy slogans for any journalist or politician who still criticized excesses in US foreign policy. They were known as the "blame America firsters" or - in the case of the Nicaragua conflict - "Sandinista sympathizers".
The practical effect of these slurs on the patriotism of journalists was to discourage skeptical reporting on Reagan's foreign policy and to give the administration a freer hand for conducting operations in Central America and the Middle East outside public view.
Gradually, a new generation of journalists began to fill key reporting jobs, bringing with them an understanding that too much skepticism on national security issues could be hazardous to one's career.
Intuitively, these reporters knew there was little or no upside to breaking even important stories that made Reagan's foreign policy look bad. That would just make you a target of the expanding conservative attack machine. You would be "controversialized", another term that Reagan operatives used to describe their anti-reporter strategies.
Iran-Contra
Often I am asked why it took so long for the US news media to uncover the secret operations that later became known as the Iran-Contra affair, clandestine arms sales to the Islamic fundamentalist government of Iran with some of the profits - and other secret funds - funneled into the Contra war against Nicaragua's Sandinista government.
Though the AP was not known as a leading investigative news organization - and my superiors weren't eager supporters - we were able to get ahead on the story in 1984, 1985 and 1986 because the New York Times, the Washington Post and other top news outlets mostly looked the other way.
It took two external events - the shooting down of a supply plane over Nicaragua in October 1986 and the disclosure of the Iran initiative by a Lebanese newspaper in November 1986 - to bring the scandal into focus.
In late 1986 and early 1987 there was a flurry of Iran-Contra coverage, but the Reagan administration largely succeeded in protecting top officials, including Reagan and George H W Bush.
The growing conservative news media, led by Reverend Sun Myung Moon's Washington Times, lashed out at journalists and government investigators who dared push the edges of the envelope or closed in on Reagan and Bush.
But resistance to the Iran-Contra scandal also penetrated mainstream news outlets. At Newsweek, where I went to work in early 1987, editor Maynard Parker was hostile to the possibility that Reagan might be implicated.
During one Newsweek dinner/interview with retired General Brent Scowcroft and then-Representative Dick Cheney, Parker expressed support for the notion that Reagan's role should be protected, even if that required perjury. "Sometimes you have to do what's good the country," Parker said.
When Iran-Contra conspirator Oliver North went on trial in 1989, Parker and other news executives ordered that Newsweek's Washington bureau not even cover the trial, presumably because Parker just wanted the scandal to go away.
(When the North trial became a major story anyway, I was left scrambling to arrange daily transcripts so we could keep abreast of the trial's developments. Because of these and other differences over the Iran-Contra scandal, I left Newsweek in 1990.)
Iran-Contra special prosecutor, Lawrence Walsh, a Republican, also encountered press hostility when his investigation finally broke through the White House cover-up in 1991. Moon's Washington Times routinely lambasted Walsh and his staff over minor issues, such as the elderly Walsh flying first class on airplanes or ordering room-service meals.
But the attacks on Walsh were not coming only from the conservative news media. Toward the end of 12 years of Republican rule, mainstream journalists also realized their careers were far better served by staying on the good side of the Reagan-Bush crowd.
So, when George H W Bush sabotaged Walsh's probe by issuing six Iran-Contra pardons on Christmas Eve 1992, prominent journalists praised Bush's actions. They brushed aside Walsh's complaint that the move was the final act in a long-running cover-up that protected a secret history of criminal behavior and Bush's personal role.
"Liberal" Washington Post columnist Richard Cohen spoke for many of his colleagues when he defended Bush's fatal blow against the Iran-Contra investigation. Cohen especially liked Bush's pardon of former defense secretary Caspar Weinberger, who had been indicted for obstruction of justice but was popular around Washington.
In a December 30, 1992, column, Cohen said his view was colored by how impressed he was when he would see Weinberger in the Georgetown Safeway store, pushing his own shopping cart. "Based on my Safeway encounters, I came to think of Weinberger as a basic sort of guy, candid and no nonsense - which is the way much of official Washington saw him," Cohen wrote. "Cap, my Safeway buddy, walks, and that's all right with me."
For fighting too hard for the truth, Walsh drew derision as a kind of Captain Ahab obsessively pursuing the White Whale. Writer Marjorie Williams delivered this damning judgment against Walsh in a Washington Post magazine article, which read:
In the utilitarian political universe of Washington, consistency like Walsh's is distinctly suspect. It began to seem ... rigid of him to care so much. So un-Washington. Hence the gathering critique of his efforts as vindictive, extreme. Ideological. ... But the truth is that when Walsh finally goes home, he will leave a perceived loser.
By the time the Reagan-Bush era ended in January 1993, the era of the "skeptical journalist" was dead, at least on issues of national security.
The Webb case
Even years later, when historical facts surfaced suggesting that serious abuses had been missed around the Iran-Contra affair, mainstream news outlets took the lead in rallying to the Reagan-Bush defense.
When a controversy over Contra-drug trafficking reemerged in 1996, the Washington Post, the New York Times and the Los Angeles Times went on the attack - against Gary Webb, the reporter who revived interest in the scandal. Even admissions of guilt by the CIA's inspector general in 1998 didn't shake the largely dismissive treatment of the issue by the major newspapers.
(For Webb's courageous reporting, he was pushed out of his job at the San Jose Mercury News, his career was ruined, his marriage collapsed and - in December 2004 - he killed himself with his father's revolver.)
When Republican rule was restored in 2001 with George W Bush's controversial "victory", major news executives and many rank-and-file journalists understood that their careers could best be protected by wrapping themselves in the old red-white-and-blue. "Patriotic" journalism was in; "skeptical" journalism was definitely out.
That tendency deepened even more after the September 11, 2001 terror attacks as many journalists took to wearing American flag lapels and avoided critical reporting about Bush's sometimes shaky handling of the crisis.
For instance, Bush's seven-minute freeze in a second-grade classroom - after being told "the nation is under attack" - was hidden from the public, even though it was filmed and witnessed by White House pool reporters. (Millions of Americans were shocked when they finally saw the footage two years later in Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11.)
In November 2001, to avoid other questions about Bush's legitimacy, the results of a media recount of the Florida vote were misrepresented to obscure the finding that Al Gore would have carried the state - and thus the White House - if all legally cast votes were counted.
Iraq War
In 2002, as Bush shifted focus from Osama bin Laden and Afghanistan to Saddam Hussein and Iraq, the "patriotic" journalists moved with him.
Some of the few remaining "skeptical" media personalities were silenced, such as MSNBC's host Phil Donahue, whose show was canceled because he invited on too many war opponents.
In most newspapers, the occasional critical articles were buried deep inside, while credulous stories accepting the administration's claims about Iraq's alleged weapons of mass destruction were bannered on page one.
New York Times reporter Judith Miller was in her element as she tapped into her friendly administration sources to produce weapons of mass destruction (WMD)stories, like the one about how Iraq's purchase of aluminum tubes was proof that it was building a nuclear bomb. The article gave rise to the White House warning that Americans couldn't risk the "smoking gun" on Iraq's WMD being "a mushroom cloud".
In February 2003, when then secretary of state Colin Powell made his United Nations speech accusing Iraq of possessing WMD stockpiles, the national news media swooned at his feet. The Washington Post's op-ed page was filled with glowing tributes to his supposedly air-tight case, which would later be exposed as a mix of exaggerations and outright lies.
The rout of "skeptical" journalism was so complete - driven to the fringes of the Internet and to a few brave souls in Knight-Ridder's Washington bureau - that the "patriotic" reporters often saw no problem casting aside even the pretense of objectivity.
In the rush to war, news organizations joined in ridiculing the French and other longtime allies who urged caution. Those countries became the "axis of weasels" and cable TV devoted hours of coverage to diners that renamed "French fries" as "Freedom fries".
Once the invasion began, the coverage on MSNBC, CNN and the major networks was barely discernable from the patriotic fervor on Fox. Like Fox News, MSNBC produced promotional segments, packaging heroic footage of American soldiers, often surrounded by thankful Iraqis and underscored with stirring music.
"Embedded" reporters often behaved like excited advocates for the American side of the war. But objectivity also was missing back at the studios where anchors voiced outrage about Geneva Convention violations when Iraqi TV aired pictures of captured American soldiers, but the US media saw nothing wrong with broadcasting images of captured Iraqis.
As Judith Miller would later remark unabashedly, she saw her beat as "what I've always covered - threats to our country". Referring to her time "embedded" with a US military unit searching for WMD, she claimed that she had received a government "security clearance".
While the 57-year-old Miller may be an extreme case of mixing patriotism and journalism, she is far from alone as a member of her generation who absorbed the lessons of the 1980s, that skeptical journalism on national security issues was a fast way to put yourself in the unemployment line.
Only gradually, over the past two years as Iraq's WMD never materialized but a stubborn insurgency did, the bloody consequences of "patriotic" journalism have begun to dawn on the American people. By not asking tough questions, journalists contributed to a mess that has now cost the lives of nearly 2,000 US soldiers and tens of thousands of Iraqis.
Retired Army Lieutenant General William Odom, a top military intelligence official under Reagan, has predicted that the Iraq invasion "will turn out to be the greatest strategic disaster in US history".
Plame case
At the core of this disaster were the cozy relationships between the "patriotic" journalists and their sources.
In her October 16 account of her interviews with Vice President Dick Cheney's chief of staff, I Lewis "Scooter" Libby, Miller gave the public an inadvertent look into that closed world of shared secrets and mutual trust.
Libby talked with Miller in two face-to-face meetings and one phone call in 2003, as the Bush administration tried to beat back post-invasion questions about how the president made his case for war, according to Miller's story.
As Miller agreed to let Libby hide behind a misleading identification as a "former Hill staffer", Libby unleashed a harsh attack on one whistleblower, former ambassador Joseph Wilson, who was challenging Bush's claims that Iraq had sought enriched uranium from the African nation of Niger.
The Miller/Libby interviews included Libby's references to Wilson's wife, Valerie Plame, who was an undercover CIA officer working on proliferation issues.
On July 14, 2003, right-wing columnist Robert Novak, claiming to have been briefed by two administration officials, outed Plame in a column that denigrated Wilson with the suggestion that Plame may have arranged the trip to Niger for her husband.
Eventually, this outing of a covert CIA agent prompted a criminal investigation headed by special prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald, who is examining a possible administration conspiracy to punish Wilson for his criticism. When Miller refused to testify about her meetings with Libby, Fitzgerald had her jailed for 85 days.
Miller finally relented after Libby encouraged her to do so. "Out West, where you vacation, the aspens will already be turning," Libby wrote in a folksy letter. "They turn in clusters because their roots are connected."
While the Plame case has become a major embarrassment for the Bush administration - and now for the New York Times - it has not stopped many of Miller's colleagues from continuing their old roles as "patriotic" journalists opposing the disclosure of too many secrets to the American people.
For instance, Washington Post columnist Richard Cohen - who hailed George H W Bush's pardons that destroyed the Iran-Contra investigation in 1992 - adopted a similar stance against Fitzgerald's investigation.
"The best thing Patrick Fitzgerald could do for his country is get out of Washington, return to Chicago and prosecute some real criminals," Cohen wrote in a column entitled "Let This Leak Go".
"As it is, all he has done so far is send Judith Miller of the New York Times to jail and repeatedly haul this or that administration high official before a grand jury, investigating a crime that probably wasn't one in the first place but that now, as is often the case, might have metastasized into some sort of cover-up - but again, of nothing much," Cohen wrote. "Go home, Pat."
If Fitzgerald does as Cohen wishes and closes down the investigation without indictments, the result could well be the continuation of the status quo in Washington. The Bush administration would get to keep control of the secrets and reward friendly "patriotic" journalists with selective leaks - and protected careers.
It is that cozy status quo that is now endangered by the Plame case. But the stakes of the case are even bigger than that, going to the future of American democracy and to two questions in particular:
Will journalists return to the standard of an earlier time when disclosing important facts to the electorate was the goal, rather than Cohen's notion of putting the comfortable relationships between Washington journalists and government officials first?
Put differently, will journalists decide that confronting the powerful with tough questions is the true patriotic test of a journalist?
Robert Parry broke many of the Iran-Contra stories in the 1980s for the Associated Press and Newsweek. His latest book, Secrecy & Privilege: Rise of the Bush Dynasty from Watergate to Iraq, can be ordered at secrecyandprivilege.com. It's also available at Amazon.com, as is his 1999 book, Lost History: Contras, Cocaine, the Press & 'Project Truth.'
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