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Bulldozed and bemused in a world of
spin
NOW I know why the dark arts of politics are known as 'spin'
- because they set your head whirling and your convictions
reeling.
Yesterday, the newspapers had me convinced that the war in
Iraq was lost - today, they are gung-ho with certainty that
the coalition forces will march into Baghdad as the enemy
disperses like a handful of sand.
Yesterday I thought the Iraqis were an oppressed people who
would weep for joy to see our food convoys - today I discover
they are a nation of bandits who shoot first and ask for aid
later.
Yesterday I thought American troops were pledged to avoid
civilian casualties at all costs - today I learn that it's
the women and children who frighten them most, and that US
marines are gunning down families of refugees on sight.
Yesterday I thought Bush and Blair had no idea of what they
were dragging the world into - today I realise that . . .
no, that conviction hasn't changed. I cannot believe they
know what they're doing.
My confusion isn't confined solely to Iraq. When I read of
the death of Rachel Corrie, the American who was crushed to
death by an Israeli bulldozer on the Gaza Strip, I feared
that the tragedy would wipe out worldwide support for my country
and give unstoppable momentum to Palestinian activists.
Instead, most Americans seemed to reject instinctively the
idea of a US martyr in Palestine.
From the individuals jotting down their opinions on internet
'blogs' or diaries, to the heavyweight columnists who guide
the minds of millions through the pages of the Washington
Post and the New York Times, almost every commentator agreed
Rachel Corrie was responsible for her own death - an intruder
in a conflict that had nothing to do with her, a girl who
should have been at home, preparing for a career or a family
or both.
No one seems aware of the irony that Rachel was doing just
what Donald Rumsfeld and George Bush have commanded tens of
thousands of young Americans to do: go to the Middle East,
and risk everything in conflicts that have no bearing on ordinary
US lives.
It is impossible to know how much of the Rachel Corrie story
is genuine, and how much is spin. Sickening pictures have
been flashed around the globe of this girl in the path of
the bulldozer, and moments later on the ground, her broken
body cradled by friends.
As one British paper cynically remarked, if those images
were on videotape, they would be replayed endlessly on Sky
and CNN, and the world's response might have been very different.
As it is, the public looks at a still picture and simply
doesn't know what to believe.
To many Americans, the images of Rachel in a crowd of Palestinians,
holding up a burning Stars And Stripes which she supposedly
made herself, is enough to condemn the girl as a traitor.
But internet rumours counter that the image was doctored,
and that Rachel was nowhere near that demonstration.
The same rumour-mongers insist that the horrific death of
Mohamed Dura, a 13-year-old Palestinian boy shot dead as he
cowered in his father's arms, was in fact a piece of street
theatre, propaganda caught on video to gull the news agencies
of the world.
One truth is sure - editors don't ask too many questions
when they see these images.
A terrified boy gunned down in crossfire, his father powerless
to protect him?
The issue for TV news stations was not whether they should
screen the footage, but how many different ways they could
justify repeating it.
An American girl burning her country's flag in a mob, thousands
of miles from her apple-pie home?
The issue for picture editors was not whether the image had
been faked, but how well the colour would hold up if they
printed it across a full page.
In the end, we must detach ourselves from the spin, wade
out of the maelstrom of news coverage, and trust our own instincts
about the conflicts.
Television news treats us like Victorian children. We are
not supposed to see anything too alarming, we are not allowed
to hear words which might corrupt us, and we are not expected
to hold any opinions which have not been approved by our governesses.
We are supposed to react emotionally to all the images, we
are allowed to hear the drivelling propaganda which is spouted
by leaders on all sides and we are expected to change our
opinions daily, to ensure that we don't become too bored with
the coverage.
Television producers and newspaper editors forget that many
of us know far more about war than they ever will. Even the
war correspondents, who are undoubtedly brave and intrepid,
are in the middle of the conflict by choice, which must confer
some feelings of control and safety.
I was born during the war for Israeli independence. Many
of my friends have childhood memories of World War Two - both
my parents' lives were shaped by it. I fought for Israel in
1967, and I have friends who were injured in Vietnam.
I know about war, and the confusion it brings. I understand
that nothing is clear or certain on a battlefield.
But the fog of war that masks our news this week is something
different. It has been whipped up artificially. It keeps us
in a false state of doubt and fear. And I don't trust any
of it.
Email
him at urigeller@compuserve.com
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