|
March 28, 2009
INSTANT
ICONS' INSTANT FAILURE: The
Propaganda War Bush Lost in Iraq
By Lee Patton
Six
years ago this spring, a teenage West Virginian supply clerk got caught
in military fire and suffered incurable internal injuries. Remember the
Special Ops rescue of Jessica Lynch?
Six
years ago this spring, the U.S. Army issued a pack of cards, each a
“Most Wanted” Iraqi face. Remember “Chemical Ali” and “Mrs. Anthrax”?
Six
years ago this spring, as Baghdad fell, the invaders toppled Saddam
Hussein’s statue, the spitting image of Lenin’s in Moscow, right in the
heart of the desert metropolis. Remember citizens dancing around the
pulverized chunks of Saddam?
As
the U.S. military invaded Iraq in March 2003, the Bush administration
tried to create and control a heroic narrative with emblems of American
triumph. Despite the fleeting popularity of the Iraq mission after
Baghdad’s quick fall, each propaganda attempt toppled into general
ridicule and scorn with the same bruising speed that Saddam’s regime
fell to the invaders.
The
pro-war icon-makers could not even weave the most hackneyed of all
fantasies -- the rescue of a damsel in distress. When aspiring
kindergarten teacher Jessica Lynch, 19, was wounded in the first days
of the Iraq invasion in March, 2003, she was taken unconscious to an
Iraqi hospital. U.S. forces declared the supply clerk missing in action
while a heroic story circulated that Lynch had rescued her comrades
with Rambo-ette automatic fire. Special Operations staged a nighttime
raid on the local hospital as cameras rolled. In search of a great
opening-volley war story, cable news seized upon the military’s
narrative of a brave, young, blonde -- and telegenic -- female soldier
and her Special Op saviors. For a short while, Jessica Lynch was a
true-blue American folk hero, about to burst forth as our first Iraqi
War American icon.
The
icon, though, refused to play along with the Army and media
iconographers, and their fantasy unraveled within days. Lynch asserted
that she never fired a single shot during the ambush. After her gun
jammed, she said she dropped to her knees and prayed. The Iraqi
hospital staff, demonized as enemy medics holding her hostage, were
actually local professionals who treated the young soldier’s wounds and
even sang soothing lullabies. Most accounts confirm that there was no
resistance to the Special Operations “rescue.” Although the
guns-blazing U.S. raid was carefully filmed, the Iraqi military had
long deserted the hospital. In reality, Lynch had already been rescued
-- by the local Iraqis -- and afterwards deeply resented being the
semi-conscious centerpiece of a staged re-rescue.
The
U.S. invasion’s other vaunted emblems of victory suffered the same fate
as the fake Jessica Lynch rescue. Before Bush’s Iraq occupation
exploded into civil chaos, the Most Wanted deck of cards were selling
for up to $120 on Ebay, though the Army didn’t release the original
packs and, in April 2003, Stars and Stripes exposed the EBay
versions as fakes. (Today, you can buy a phony pack for $1.99). Real or
fake, the "Most Wanted" cards instantly inspired caustic parodies, such
as George Bush, Donald Rumsfeld, and Dick Cheney depicted as a "flush
hand" of war criminals, or decks of Most Wanted U.S. War Profiteers.
The
toppling of Saddam Hussein’s statue in central Baghdad was far from a
spontaneous celebration. Even a source as mainstream as the Boston
Globe, on the day after the April 9, 2003 statue-toppling, openly cast
doubt on the images in Firdos Square, noting that they...
“looked
an awful lot like the looting taking place nearby. Footage of both
activities showed gatherings verging on anarchy. Yesterday's coverage
of the ‘jubilation’ also had a self-conscious and forced quality, as if
the media were too eager to capture ‘liberation’ for its daily news
cycle. Whenever the cameras pulled back, they revealed a relatively
small crowd at the statue.”
George W. Bush’s
icon-making was so ham-fisted that he could not even enjoy a simple
photo-op with the troops during his first wartime 2003
Thanksgiving
visit to Iraq. He merely had himself photographed bearing a turkey on a
tray, but before anyone could make a sandwich from leftovers, the
mainstream media, including the New York Times, purported that the
turkey was plastic. Pro-war websites immediately counter-attacked that
the alleged turkey was real, the Times
retracted the plastic assertion, and the poor bird was relegated to
urban myth status. Myth or not, flesh or plastic, the turkey’s real
meaning lies in the speedy self-destruction of yet another Bush war
emblem: in only six months the mainstream media’s invasion cheerleading
had devolved to instant suspicion and hyper-vigilance about any
feel-good administration Iraq War press release.
Plastic
turkeys are one thing, but heroes ought to persist in flesh-and-blood
glory. Yet Bush’s attempt to show off heroic endorsement
self-destructed a month before his Iraq invasion was launched. A real
American icon, Colin Powell, who impressed the American public with his
candor and pragmatism during his command of the Gulf War in 1991,
toppled from hero to lackey in a mere wink of live-camera glare.
In Bush’s last-ditch effort to persuade the skeptical U.N. that
his
Iraq invasion plan actually had a purpose, he dispatched Powell in
February 2003 to present a series of slippery suppositions and altered
photographs about baby formula factories, trains on tracks, and empty
aluminum tubes before the General Assembly. The “evidence” was tortured
into a thesis so scant in support that a fourth-grader had to wonder
why the great man would stoop to offer such a third-grade
audio-visual presentation. Powell later admitted to NBC’s Tom
Brokaw
that he went through the exercise only a “loyal soldier.” In the
instant-failure Bush iconography, even the commanding, genuine Colin
Powell could melt into worthless plastic.
Though
Bush’s ensuing Iraq debacle became a ruinous, endless waste of life,
limb, and property, the quick failure of pro-war propaganda was
breathtaking, a bracing triumph of simple human truth over manufactured
militaristic spin. Duped into war against Cuba in 1898 by false news
reports about a Spanish attack (probably a coal bunker fire) on the
battleship Maine; duped into World War I after lies about Huns
bayoneting babies; duped into Vietnam with the phony 1964 Gulf of
Tonkin incident -- still, in 1991, the general public seemed happy to
be duped again and march off to invade the Persian Gulf. With tales of
Iraqi soldiers ripping Kuwaiti babies out of incubators -- a
transparent fiction of Kuwaiti royals who invented, then confessed it
-- the incubator-ripping tale lived on in Americans’ need to fuel their
own war fever, to give a pretext for the first armed invasion of Iraq.
Thus,
the junior Bush had every reason to believe the American public
could
be easily duped again and, still under the shadow of 9/11, be easily
manipulated into a new war-time stupor, obedient to military
prerogatives and desensitized to civilian suffering. Yet the junior
Bush could never create the pro-war sentiment of the senior Bush’s
Persian Gulf War, when yellow ribbons and newsprint flags sprouted
across the nation’s front porches. The 1991 “war” was far shorter than
its endless series of victory ticker-tape parades, all understood as
atonement for America’s shunning of Vietnam veterans as well as a
celebration, a vindication -- the most powerful military in the world
really could defeat a shaky dictatorship one-tenth its size!
Not
really, though. Vietnam had already taught the U.S. how its massive,
obscenely expensive military force could lose against a small,
penniless, technologically weaker adversary, but the junior Bush proved
incapable of learning. It was one thing to rout frightened conscripts
from Kuwait’s border in 1991 and entirely another to try to occupy the
entire nation of Iraq in 2003.
It’s
marvelous but puzzling as to why the American public didn’t go along;
even “Mission Accomplished,” the once-AWOL airman’s May 1, 2003
image-making in a flight jumpsuit on an aircraft carrier drifting
outside San Diego, became an instant joke as Iraq immediately descended
into its first murderous summer. The plastic junior Bush
Mission-Accomplished “action figure” pressed into public sale
soon melted down in anti-war ceremonies or was stuck with pins in
angry
family voodoo.
It’s
tempting to praise “postmodern” sensibilities, to advance the idea that
by 2003 a jaded, media-savvy populace became -- at long last --
impervious to crude militarist public relations iconography. Maybe, but
it’s worth recalling the plain old modern sensibility that led millions
to hold anti-war protests in U.S. cities, with much larger ones abroad,
for months prior to Bush’s Iraq war. Phenomenal in their size by any
measure, they were far and away the largest protests ever held on
the
planet in advance of a military invasion.
The
pro-war faction had to resort to overt manipulation of the Iraqi
threat, spinning fictions about Nigerian yellowcake and nonexistent
nukes to urge a casus belli on a reluctant nation. Even in the
mushroom-cloud shadow of this hype, with thousands of Americans
already
deployed to the Iraqi-Kuwait border, there was only a quick spurt of
war fever -- shredding car-antenna flags and fake-ribbon magnets on
Cadillac Escalades. The broader U.S. public proved amazingly resistant
to the hype before the invasion, and the anti-war resistance only grew
during Bush’s mismanaged, violent occupation.
As
with most true/false, real/fake, modern/postmodern conundrums, questioning
the story of origin might be the
most fruitful way
of
fighting the manufactured icons and mutton-headed boosterism that’s
always needed to urge a sane populace to embrace the insanity of war.
In this case, the origin story belongs to
Jessica Lynch and her best
friend, Lori Piestewa, 23, the single mother who was killed
in the same
ambush on the supply convoy, along with 11 other soldiers.
The
origin question is basic: Why did Jessica and Lori need to join the
Army anyway; why did the road to kindergarten teaching and successful
single-motherhood have to end up anywhere near that violent ambush in
Iraq? Both were from financially struggling American families
in
places the coastal media regard as obscure at best. Under the war
propagandists’ desire to exploit Jessica’s valor lies a twisted truth
about America’s real economy, where underprivileged teacher hopefuls
need to go to war to fund their hope. Still, Jessica had true valor
under fire. She refused iconic status and chose truth over fake glory.
Lori,
though, was never made into much of an icon by the Bush fabulists or
the national news media. Maybe it’s because she was killed immediately
-- and such killings became commonplace -- with none of the suspense
and drama of the Jessica Lynch rescue tale. Besides, Lori wasn’t the TV
type, not the right white-girl-next-door. Inconveniently, Lori was
a
Hopi-Mexican from a poor family in unromantic Tuba City, Arizona, and
what do the celebrity-making media care about another dead American
Indian?
Another
origin question. Who on Earth needed this young mother -- driving
blindsided into some ambush in Iraq -- to “serve her
country”? (I can
tell you, as a taxpayer, citizen, and coward, that I never asked for
this service.) But icon-making is nothing if not ironic. The Hopi
culture places great value on warriors, on service to one’s
people. Like many American Indians, Lori came from a
distinguished
line of military veterans -- and out of their grief at losing a
native
daughter, her community elevated Lori’s memory to a place of honor.
Six
years after the U.S. invasion of Iraq, it’s impossible to imagine
any
of that war’s planners, schemers, and propagandists honored the way
that Arizona has honored Lori Piestewa. Who will name anything --
even
a fetid ditch, a broken sewer, a breached levee -- after such pro-war
figures as George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Richard Perle,
Paul Wolfowitz, Paul Bremer, or so many others, those who urged, led,
and cheered the policies that resulted in Lori’s wrong turn in
Iraq?
Only months from their departure from power and influence, these
policymakers’ reputations trade lower than a fake pack of "Most Wanted"
cards on EBay.
But
in Arizona, visible all around Phoenix, a young soldier and mother
will
always be honored. Honored without questions about post-modern
irony or
authentic vs. fake; honored with realities -- granite and sky-piercing
altitude -- as long as Piestewa Peak rises above the desert
metropolis.
|
|