[R-G] Pilger: How Truth Slips Down the Memory Hole
Anthony Fenton
fentona at shaw.ca
Tue Aug 7 09:30:55 MDT 2007
July 25, 2007
How Truth Slips Down the Memory Hole
By John Pilger
http://www.zmag.org/sustainers/content/2007-07/25pilger.cfm
One of the leaders of demonstrations in Gaza calling for the release
of the BBC reporter Alan Johnston was a Palestinian news cameraman,
Imad Ghanem. On 5 July, he was shot by Israeli soldiers as he filmed
them invading Gaza. A Reuters video shows bullets hitting his body as
he lay on the ground. An ambulance trying to reach him was also
attacked. The Israelis described him as a "legitimate target". The
International Federation of Journalists called the shooting "a
vicious and brutal example of deliberate targeting of a journalist".
At the age of 21, he has had both legs amputated. Dr David Halpin, a
British trauma surgeon who works with Palestinian children, emailed
the BBC's Middle East editor, Jeremy Bowen. "The BBC should report
the alleged details about the shooting," he wrote. "It should honour
Alan [Johnston] as a journalist by reporting the facts, uncomfortable
as they might be to Israel." He received no reply. The atrocity was
reported in two sentences on the BBC online. Along with 11
Palestinian civilians killed by the Israelis on the same day, Alan
Johnston's now legless champion slipped into what George Orwell in
Nineteen Eighty-Four called the memory hole. (It was Winston Smith's
job at the Ministry of Truth to make disappear all facts embarrassing
to Big Brother.)
While Alan Johnston was being held, I was asked by the BBC World
Service if I would say a few words of support for him. I readily
agreed, and suggested I also mention the thousands of Palestinians
abducted and held hostage. The answer was a polite no; and all the
other hostages remained in the memory hole. Or, as Harold Pinter
wrote of such unmentionables: "It never happened. Nothing ever
happened . . . It didn't matter. It was of no interest." The media
wailing over the BBC's royal photo-shoot fiasco and assorted
misdemeanours provide the perfect straw man. They complement a self-
serving BBC internal inquiry into news bias, which dutifully supplied
the right-wing Daily Mail with hoary grist that the corporation is a
left-wing plot. Such shenanigans would be funny were it not for the
true story behind the facade of elite propaganda that presents
humanity as useful or expendable, worthy or unworthy, and the Middle
East as the Anglo-American crime that never happened, didn't matter,
was of no interest.
The other day, I turned on the BBC's Radio 4 and heard a cut-glass
voice announce a programme about Iraqi interpreters working for "the
British coalition forces" and warning that "listeners might find
certain descriptions of violence disturbing". Not a word referred to
those of "us" directly and ultimately responsible for the violence.
The programme was called Face the Facts. Is satire that dead? Not
yet. The Murdoch columnist David Aaronovitch, a warmonger, is to
interview Blair in the BBC's "major retrospective" of the sociopath's
rule.
Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four lexicon of opposites pervades almost
everything we see, hear and read now. The invaders and destroyers are
"the British coalition forces", surely as benign as that British
institution, St John Ambulance, who are "bringing democracy" to Iraq.
BBC television describes Israel as having "two hostile Palestinian
entities on its borders", neatly inverting the truth that Israel is
actually inside Palestinian borders. A study by Glasgow University
says that young British viewers of TV news believe Israelis illegally
colonising Palestinian land are Palestinians: the victims are the
invaders.
"The great crimes against most of humanity", wrote the American
cultural critic James Petras, "are justified by a corrosive
debasement of language and thought . . . [that] have fabricated a
linguistic world of terror, of demons and saviours, of axes of good
and evil, of euphemisms" designed to disguise a state terror that is
"a gross perversion" of democracy, liberation, reform, justice. In
his reinauguration speech, George Bush mentioned all these words,
whose meaning, for him, is the dictionary opposite. It is 80 years
since Edward Bernays, the father of public relations, predicted a
pervasive "invisible government" of corporate spin, suppression and
silence as the true ruling power in the United States. That is true
today on both sides of the Atlantic. How else could America and
Britain go on such a spree of death and mayhem on the basis of
stupendous lies about non-existent weapons of mass destruction, even
a "mushroom cloud over New York"? When the BBC radio reporter Andrew
Gilligan reported the truth, he was pilloried and sacked along with
the BBC's director general, while Blair, the proven liar, was
protected by the liberal wing of the media and given a standing
ovation in parliament. The same is happening again over Iran,
distracted, it is hoped, by spin that the new Foreign Secretary David
Miliband is a "sceptic" about the crime in Iraq when, in fact, he has
been an accomplice, and by unctuous Kennedy-quoting Foreign Office
propaganda about Miliband's "new world order".
"What do you think of Iran's complicity in attacks on British
soldiers in Basra?" Miliband was asked by the Financial Times.
Miliband: "Well, I think that any evidence of Iranian engagement
there is to be deplored. I think that we need regional players to be
supporting stability, not fomenting discord, never mind death . . ."
FT: "Just to be clear, there is evidence?"
Miliband: "Well no, I chose my words carefully . . ."
The coming war on Iran, including the possibility of a nuclear
attack, has already begun as a war by journalism. Count the number of
times "nuclear weapons programme" and "nuclear threat" are spoken and
written, yet neither exists, says the International Atomic Energy
Agency. On 21 June, the New York Times went further and advertised an
"urgent" poll, headed: "Should we bomb Iran?" The questions beneath
referred to Iran being "a greater threat than Saddam Hussein" and
asked: "Who should undertake military action against Iran
first . . . ?" The choice was "US. Israel. Neither country". So tick
your favourite bombers.
The last British war to be fought without censorship and "embedded"
journalists was the Crimea a century and a half ago. The bloodbath of
the First World War and the Cold War might never have happened
without their unpaid (and paid) propagandists. Today's invisible
government is no less served, especially by those who censor by
omission. The craven liberal campaign against the first real hope for
the poor of Venezuela is a striking example.
However, there are major differences. Official disinformation now is
often aimed at a critical public intelligence, a growing awareness in
spite of the media. This "threat" from a public often held in
contempt has been met by the insidious transfer of much of journalism
to public relations. Some years ago, PR Week estimated that the
amount of "PR-generated material" in the media is "50 per cent in a
broadsheet newspaper in every section apart from sport. In the local
press and the mid-market and tabloid nationals, the figure would
undoubtedly be higher. Music and fashion journalists and PRs work
hand in hand in the editorial process . . . PRs provide fodder, but
the clever high-powered ones do a lot of the journalists' thinking
for them."
This is known today as "perception management". The most powerful are
not the Max Cliffords but huge corporations such as Hill & Knowlton,
which "sold" the slaughter known as the first Gulf war, and the
Sawyer Miller Group, which sold hated, pro-Washington regimes in
Colombia and Bolivia and whose operatives included Mark Malloch
Brown, the new Foreign Office minister, currently being spun as anti-
Washington. Hundreds of millions of dollars go to corporations
spinning the carnage in Iraq as a sectarian war and covering up the
truth: that an atrocious invasion is pinned down by a successful
resistance while the oil is looted.
The other major difference today is the abdication of cultural forces
that once provided dissent outside journalism. Their silence has been
devastating. "For almost the first time in two centuries," wrote the
literary and cultural critic Terry Eagleton, "there is no eminent
British poet, playwright or novelist prepared to question the
foundations of the western way of life." The lone, honourable
exception is Harold Pinter. Eagleton listed writers and playwrights
who once promised dissent and satire and instead became rich
celebrities, ending the legacy of Shelley and Blake, Carlyle and
Ruskin, Morris and Wilde, Wells and Shaw.
He singled out Martin Amis, a writer given tombstones of column
inches in which to air his pretensions, along with his attacks on
Muslims. The following is from a recent article by Amis:
Tony strolled over [to me] and said, "What have you been up to
today?" "I've been feeling protective of my prime minister, since you
ask."
For some reason our acquaintanceship, at least on my part, is
becoming mildly but deplorably flirtatious. What these elite,
embedded voices share is their participation in an essentially class
war, the long war of the rich against the poor. That they play their
part in a broadcasting studio or in the clubbable pages of the review
sections and that they think of themselves as liberals or
conservatives is neither here nor there. They belong to the same
crusade, waging the same battle for their enduring privilege.
In The Serpent, Marc Karlin's dreamlike film about Rupert Murdoch,
the narrator describes how easily Murdochism came to dominate the
media and coerce the industry's liberal elite. There are clips from a
keynote address that Murdoch gave at the Edinburgh Television
Festival. The camera pans across the audience of TV executives, who
listen in respectful silence as Murdoch flagellates them for
suppressing the true voice of the people. They then applaud him.
"This is the silence of the democrats," says the voice-over, "and the
Dark Prince could bath in their silence."
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