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The Media Goes to War: How TV Sold The Panama Invasion
by Mark Cook and Jeff Cohen
TWO weeks after the Panama invasion, "CBS News" sponsored a public
opinion poll in Panama that found the residents in rapture over what
happened. Even 80 percent of those whose homes had been blown up or
their relatives killed by US forces said it was worth it. Their
enthusiasm did not stop with the ousting of Gen. Manual Noriega,
however. A less heavily advertised result of the poll was that 82% of
the sampled Panamanian patriots did not want Panamanian control of the
Canal, preferring either partial of exclusive control by the US
("Panamanians Strongly Back US Move," "New York Times," 1/6/90).
A "public opinion poll" in a country under martial law, conducted by
an agency obviously sanctioned by the invading forces, can be expected
to come up with such results. Most reporters, traveling as they did
with the US military, found little to contradict this picture. Less
than 40 hours after the invasion began, Sam Donaldson and Judd Rose
transported us to Panama via "ABC's Prime Time Live" (12/21/90).
"There were people who applauded us as we went by in a military
convoy," said Rose. "The military have been very good to us [in
escorting reporters beyond the Canal Zone]," added Donaldson.
While this kind of "Canal Zone journalism" dominated television, a
few independent print journalists stuck out on their own. Peter
Eisner of "Newsday"'s Latin American Bureau, for example, reported
(12/28/89) that Panamanians were cursing US soldiers under their
breath as troops searched the home of a neighbor--a civilian--for
weapons. One Panamanian pointed out a man speaking to US soldiers as
a "sapo" (a toad--slang for "dirty informer") and suggested that
denouncing people to the US forces was a way of settling old scores.
A doctor living on the street said that "liberals will be laying low
for a while, and they're probably justified" because of what would
happen to those who speak out. All of Eisner's sources feared having
their names printed.
The same day's "Miami Herald" ran articles about Panamanian citizen
reactions, including concern over the hundreds of dead civilians:
"Neighbors saw six US truck loads bringing dozens of bodies" to a mass
grave. As a mother watched the body of her soldier son lowered into a
grave, her "voice rose over the crowd's silence: `Damn the
Americans.'"
Obviously there was a mix of opinion inside Panama, but it was
virtually unreported on television, the dominant medium shaping US
attitudes about the invasion. Panamanian opposition to the US was
dismissed as nothing more than "DigBat [Dignity Battalion] thugs"
who'd been given jobs by Noriega. And it was hardly acknowledged that
the high-visibility demonstration outside the Vatican Embassy the day
of Noriega's surrender had been actively "encouraged" by the US
occupying forces ("Newsday," 1/5/90).
Few TV reporters seemed to notice that the jubilant Panamanians
parading before their cameras day after day to endorse the invasion
spoke near-perfect English and were overwhelmingly light-skinned and
well-dressed. This in a Spanish-speaking country with a largely
mestizo and black population where poverty is widespread. "ABC"'s
Beth Nissen (12/27/89) was one of the few TV reporters to take a close
look at the civilian deaths caused by US bombs that pulverized El
Chorillo, the poor neighborhood which ambulance drivers now call
"Little Hiroshima." The people of El Chorillo don't speak perfect
English, and they were less than jubilant about the invasion.
"Our Boys" vs. Unseen Civilians
In the first days of the invasion, TV journalists had one overriding
obsession: *How many American soldiers have died?* The question,
repeated with drumbeat regularity, tended to drown out the other
issues: Panamanian casualties, international law, foreign reaction.
On the morning of the invasion, "CBS" anchor Kathleen Sullivan's voice
cracked with emotion for the US soldiers: "Nine killed, more than 50
wounded. How long can this fighting go on?" Unknown and unknowable
to "CBS" viewers, hundreds of Panamanians had already been killed by
then, many buried in their homes.
Judging from the calls and requests for interviews that poured into
the FAIR office, European and Latin American journalists based in the
US were stunned by the implied racism and national chauvinism in the
media display. The "Toronto Globe and Mail," often referred to as the
"New York Times" of Canada, ran a front-page article (12/22/89)
critiquing the United States and its media for "the peculiar jingoism
of US society so evident to foreigners but almost invisible for most
Americans."
TV's continuous focus on the well-being of the invaders, and not the
invadees, meant that the screen was dominated by red, white and blue
draped coffins and ceremonies, honor rolls of the US dead, drum rolls,
remarks by Dan Rather (12/21/89) about "our fallen heroes"...but no
Panamanian funerals. This despite the fact that the invasion claimed
perhaps 50 Panamanian lives for every US citizen killed.
When Pentagon pool correspondent Fred Francis was asked on day one
about civilian casualties on "ABC's Nightline" (12/20/89), he said he
did not know, because he and other journalists were traveling around
with the US army. Curiosity didn't increase in ensuing days. FAIR
called the TV networks daily to demand they address the issue of
civilian deaths, but journalists said they had no way of verifying the
numbers.
No such qualms existed with regards to Rumania, where over the
Christmas weekend "CNN" and other US outlets were freely dishing out
fantastic reports of 80,000 people killed in days of violence, a
figure--greater that the immediate Hiroshima death toll--which any
editor should have dismissed out of hand. Tom Brokaw's selective
interest in civilians was evident when he devoted the first half of
"NBC Nightly News" (12/20/89) to Panama without mentioning non-
combatant casualties, then turned to Rumania and immediately referred
to reports of thousands of civilian deaths.
Not until the sixth day of the Panama invasion did the US Army
augment its estimated dead (23 American troops, 297 alleged enemy
soldiers) to include a figure for civilians: 254. The number was
challenged as representing only a fraction of the true death toll by
the few reporters who sought out independent sources: Panamanian
human rights monitors, hospital workers, ambulance drivers, funeral
home directors. These sources also spoke of thousands of civilian
injuries and 10,000 left homeless. Many journalists, especially on
television, were too busy cheerleading "the successful military
action" to notice the Panamanians who didn't fare so successfully.
TV correspondents, so uncurious about civilian casualties, could not
be expected to go beyond US military assurances about who was being
arrested and why. As the "Boston Globe" noted (1/1/90), US forces
were arresting anyone on a blacklist compiled by the newly-installed
government. "Newsday"'s Peter Eisner reported (1/7/90): "Hundreds of
intellectuals, university students, teachers and professional people
say they have been harassed and detained by US forces in the guise of
searching for hidden weapons."
The "Objective" Reporter's Lexicon: We, Us, Our
In covering the invasion, many TV journalists abandoned even the
pretense of operating in a neutral, independent mode. Television
anchors used pronouns like "we" and "us" in describing the mission
into Panama, as if they themselves were members of the invasion force,
or at least helpful advisors. "NBC"'s Brokaw exclaimed, on day one:
"We haven't got [Noriega] yet." "CNN" anchor Mary Anne Loughlin asked
a former CIA official (12/21/89): "Noriega has stayed one step ahead
of us. Do you think we'll be able to find him?" After eagerly
quizzing a panel of US military experts on "MacNeil/Lehrer" (12/21/89)
about whether "we" had wiped out the Panamanian Defense Forces (PDF),
Judy Woodruff concluded, "So not only have we done away with the PDF,
we've also done away with the police force." So much for the
separation of press and state.
Ted Koppel and other TV journalists had a field day mocking the
Orwellianly-titled "Dignity Battalions," but none were heard
ridiculing the invasion's code-name: "Operation Just Cause." The day
after the invasion, "NBC Nightly News" offered its own case study in
Orwellian Newspeak: While one correspondent referred to the US
military occupiers as engaging in "peacekeeping chores," another
correspondent on the same show referred to Latin American diplomats at
the OAS condemning the US as a "lynch mob." After the Soviet Union
criticized the invasion as "gunboat diplomacy" (as had many other
countries), Dan Rather dismissed it as "old-line, hard-line talk from
Moscow" ("CBS Evening News," 12/20/89).
Journalism gave way to state propaganda when a "CNN" correspondent
dutifully reported on the day of the invasion: "US troops have taken
detainees but we are not calling them `prisoners of war' because the
US has not declared war." (That kind of obedient reporter probably
still refers to the Vietnam "conflict.") Similarly, on Day 1, many
networks couldn't bring themselves to call the invasion an invasion
until they got the green light from Washington: instead, it was
referred to variously as a military action, intervention, operation,
expedition, affair, insertion.
Where Did Our Love Go?
Many reporters uncritically promoted White House explanations for its
break-up with Noriega. Clifford Krauss reported ("NY Times," 1/21/90)
that Noriega "began as a CIA asset but fell afoul of Washington over
his involvement in drug and arms trafficking." "ABC"'s Peter Jennings
told viewers on the day of the invasion, "Let's remember that the
United States was very close to Mr. Noriega before the whole question
of drugs came up." Actually, Noriega's drug links were asserted by US
intelligence as early as 1972. In 1976, after US espionage officials
proposed that Noriega be dumped because of drugs and double-dealing,
then-CIA director George Bush made sure the relationship continued
("S.F. Examiner," 1/5/90; "New Yorker," 1/8/90). US intelligence
overlooked the drug issue year after year as long as Noriega was an
eager ally in US espionage and covert operations, especially those
targeted against Nicaragua.
Peter Jennings' claim that the US broke with Noriega after the "question of drugs came up" turns reality upside down. Noriega's
involvement in drug trafficking was purportedly heaviest in the early
1980s when his relationship with the US was especially close. By
1986, when the Noriega/US relationship began to fray, experts agree
that Noriega had already drastically curtailed his drug links. The
two drug-related indictments against Noriega in Florida cover
activities from 1981 through March 1986 ("Analysts Challenge View of
Noriega as Drug Lord," "Washington Post," 1/7/90).
When, as vice president, Bush met with Noriega in Panama in December 1983, besides discussing Nicaragua, Bush allegedly raised questions about drug money laundering. According to author Kevin Buckley,
Noriega told top aide Jose Blandon that he'd picked up the following
message from the Bush meeting: "The United States wanted help for the
contras so badly that if he even promised it, the US government would
turn a blind eye to money-laundering and setbacks to democracy in
Panama." In 1985 and '86, Noriega met several times with Oliver North
to discuss the assistance Noriega was providing to the contras, such
as training contras at Panamanian Defense Force bases ("Noriega could
give some interesting answers," Kevin Buckley, "St. Petersburg Times,"
1/3/90). Noriega didn't fall from grace until he stopped being a
"team player" in the US war against Nicaragua.
Democracy had as little to do with the break-up as drugs. If
Noriega believed Bush had given his strongarm rule a green light in
1983, confirmation came the next year when Noriega's troops seized
ballot boxes and blatantly rigged Panama's presidential election.
Noriega's candidate, Nicolas Ardito Barletta, was also "our"
candidate--an economist who had been a student and assistant to former
University of Chicago professor George Shultz. Though loudly
protested by Panamanians, the fraud that put Ardito Barletta in power
was cheered by the US Embassy. Secretary of State Shultz attended his
inauguration. (See "The Press on Panama," "Extra!", Mar/Apr 88;
Richard Reeves, "San Francisco Chronicle," 12/25/89)
As the Noriega case progresses toward trial, the media's treatment
of key witnesses against the General may offer a case study in bias.
Several of the witnesses have already testified on these matters in a
very public forum--hearings before Senator John Kerry's Foreign
Affairs Subcommittee on Narcotics. At that time, February 1988, they
fingered Nicaraguan contras as cocaine cohorts of Noriega operating
under the umbrella of the CIA and Ollie North. The hearings were
ignored or distorted by national media outlets, with Reagan/Bush
officials and CIA dismissing the witnesses as drug trafficking felons.
("Extra!," Mar/Apr 88; Warren Hinckle, "S.F. Examiner," 1/11/90). In
a predictable turnaround, as soon as Noriega was apprehended, TV news
brought forth experts to explain that "when one prosecutes someone
like Noriega for drug dealing, witnesses will of necessity be drug
dealers."
Provocations of Pretexts?
The US media showed little curiosity about the Dec. 16 confrontation
that led to the death of a US Marine officer and the injury of another
when they tried to run a roadblock in front of the PDF headquarters.
The officers were supposedly "lost." In view of what is now known
about the intense pre-invasion preparations then underway ("NY Times,"
12/24/89), is it possible the Marines were actually trying to track
Noriega's whereabouts?
The Panamanian version of the event was that the US soldiers, upon
being discovered, opened fire--injuring three civilians, including a
child--and then tried to run the roadblock. This version was largely
ignored by US journalists even after the shooting two days later of a
Panamanian corporal who "signaled a US serviceman to stop," according
to the administration. "The US serviceman felt threatened," the
administration claimed, after admitting that its earlier story that
the Panamanian had pulled his gun was false ("NYT," 12/19/89)
As for the claim that a US officer had been roughly interrogated and
his wife had been sexually threatened, the administration provided no
supporting evidence ("NYT," 12/19/89; "Newsday," 12/18/89). Since
the Marine's death and the interrogation were repeatedly invoked to
justify the invasion, the lack of press scrutiny of these claims is
stunning.
For months, US forces had been trying to provoke confrontations as a
pretext for an attack. In response to an Aug. 11 incident, Panamanian
Foreign Minister Jorge Ritter asked that a UN peacekeeping force be
dispatched to Panama to prevent such encounters. The US press largely
ignored his call ("El Diario/La Prensa," New York's Spanish-language
daily, 8/13/89).
The "Declaration of War" That Never Was
"When during the past few days [Noriega] declared war on the United
States and some of his followers then killed a US Marine, roughed up
another American serviceman, also threatening that man's wife, strong
public support for a reprisal was all but guaranteed," Ted Koppel told
his "Nightline" audience Dec. 20.
Noriega never "declared war on the United States." The original
"Reuters" dispatches, published on the inside pages of the "New York
Times" (12/17-18/89), buried the supposed "declaration" in articles
dealing with other matters. In the Dec. 17 article headlined,
"Opposition Leader in Panama Rejects a Peace Offer from Noriega,"
"Reuters" quoted the general as saying that he would judiciously use
new powers granted to him by the Panamanian parliament and that "the
North American scheme, through constant psychological and military
harassment, has created a state of war in Panama." This statement of
fact aroused little excitement at the White House, which called the
parliament's move "a hollow step."
The day after the invasion, "Los Angeles Times" Pentagon
correspondent Melissa Healey told a call-in talk show audience on "C-
SPAN" that Noriega had "declared war" on the United States. When a
caller asked why that hadn't been front page news, Healey explained
that the declaration of war was one of a series of "incremental
escalations." When another caller pointed out that Panama had only
made a rhetorical statement that US economic and other measures had
created a state of war, the Pentagon correspondent confessed ignorance
of what had actually been said, and suggested that it was certainly
worth investigating.
The incident symbolizes media performance on the invasion--dispense official information as gospel first, worry about the truth of that
information later. It's just what the White House was counting on
from the media. The Bush team set out to control television and front
page news in the first days knowing that exposes of official deception
(such as Noriega's 110 pounds of "cocaine" that turned out to be
tamales) would not appear until weeks later buried on inside pages of
newspapers. Rulers do not require the total suppression of news. As
Napoleon Bonaparte once said: It's sufficient to delay the news until
it no longer matters.
Besides uncritically dispensing huge quantities of official news and
views, the TV networks had another passion during the first days of
the invasion: polling their public. It was an insular process, with
predictable results. A "Toronto Globe and Mail" news story summarized
it (12/22/89): "Hardly a voice of objection is being heard within the
United States about the Panama invasion, at least from those deemed as
official sources and thus likely to be seen on television or read in
the papers. Not surprisingly, given the media coverage, a television
poll taken yesterday by one network ("CNN") indicated that nine of ten viewers approved of the invasion."
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