James Cornelison
jc077713@ohio.edu
Media coverage of war has a complex history, from the
earliest sedition acts to the roll of the press during Vietnam, from exposing the evils we fight
against to exposing the evils
done in pursuit of that end. As was prominently the case in the latter half
of the 20th century, allowing the press to have access to military
units, cultures, and operations is easily considered a privilege. Once ideal
circumstances subside, there is little compromise reached. Instead, the media
is forced to submit to the superior importance of what Presidential Candidate
Mike Huckabee calls “killing people and breaking things” whether anyone else
knows about it or not.
New York Times Contributor Tim Hsia does a pretty
good job of explaining this bias, and the beneficial strategic role that
press coverage can play. My critique would be that he does not go far enough. What’s
unknown to many is that we live in a unique time period for military-civilian
relations. Even though the costly actions of the cold war may have been less
popular, they were so because they were more impactful. However, if a tourist
visited our country today and observed the magnitude of our indulgence,
international ignorance, and social gluttony, they’d be dubious to the fact we
were a nation at war and have been for a decade and a half. The media serves as
the nervous system between the hand and the brain, and if we sever that
connection, we risk becoming two
entities that are more harmful to each other when separated.
The fact is that secrets are most dangerous to who they are
kept from. Confidentiality definitely has its place in war, concealing military
vulnerabilities from the enemy. But for what reasons do we conceal
vulnerabilities from the constituency, from the regulators and overseers, from
ourselves, and those who are best equipped to address them? Whistleblower
Edward Snowden once responded to accusations by stating “If I’m a traitor, who
did I betray? I gave all my information to the American public, to American
journalists who are reporting on American issues.”
One theory is that the military has become part of an
independent government, or “deep
state,” which operates based on its own agenda regardless of the public
sentiment or the president or the congress. To a degree, autonomy is good in
the military. It means efficiency and unity of mission. But autonomy is not
required to be without accountability. When the unity is uncertain, and
accountability is nonexistent, autonomy is just rigid responsiveness. And that
unthinking reflexivity has brought down history’s most impressive militaries,
and not before leaving its civilians ravaged and destitute.
It’s a delicate relationship between a government, and a citizenry, and a military. But journalists have the responsibility of defining those roles and obligations to each other. By doing so, they define the roles of each in absolute terms. There’s a very real danger implicit in the roles of either becoming confused or abandoned. In such a case, they will be adopted by others out of necessity, and there’s no telling whether the adopters are more or less qualified for the responsibility than their predecessors.
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