This is a media crackdown, in case you've forgottenI don’t normally pay a great deal of attention to the op-ed pages of the New York Times; but I was sitting here at seven o’clock on a Sunday morning and thought I’d take a gander. I wish I hadn’t, because Frank Rich's
Don’t Follow the Money has, to borrow a phrase from Grampa Simpson, angried up my blood.
The problem is that it is the epitome of the kind of self-important nonsense the mainstream media is coughing up these days. Like the ravings of a dying and feeble mafia don, these words are delivered loud and stern to give the impression that everything is still under control (and to avoid a palace coup). It begins interestingly, noting that the media have tended to attribute the famous “All the President’s Men” movie line “follow the money” to the actual Deep Throat (W. Mark Felt), rather than the author of the movie script, to whom it actually belongs:
As if on cue, journalists everywhere - from The New York Times to The Economist to The Washington Post itself - would soon start attributing this classic line of dialogue to the newly unmasked Deep Throat, W. Mark Felt. But the line was not in Woodward and Bernstein's book or in The Post's Watergate reportage or in Bob Woodward's contemporaneous notes. It was the invention of the author of "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," "Marathon Man" and "The Princess Bride."
This confusion of Hollywood's version of history with the genuine article would quickly prove symptomatic of the overall unreality of the Deep Throat coverage. Was Mr. Felt a hero or a villain? Should he "follow the money" into a book deal, and if so, how would a 91-year-old showing signs of dementia either write a book or schmooze about it with Larry King?
Interesting questions indeed, though far more interesting is the question, “How did the mainstream media, with the vast resources at its disposal, make such a basic, factual error in its reportage?” But instead of exploring this question, Rich seems to use the page as a place to vent his unresolved anger over Richard Nixon, a President who left office more than three decades ago, and spit venom at the machinations of the current President.
The current administration, a second-term imperial presidency that outstrips Nixon's in hubris by the day, leads the attack, trying to intimidate and snuff out any Woodwards or Bernsteins that might challenge it, any media proprietor like Katharine Graham or editor like Ben Bradlee who might support them and any anonymous source like Deep Throat who might enable them to find what Carl Bernstein calls "the best obtainable version of the truth."
And what exactly are the kind of attacks and intimidation we’re talking about here? Perhaps the government has used troops or police to shut down unflattering media outlets, or caused snooping reporters to “disappear”? Or maybe it’s that a censorship board has been instituted? What about something on a softer sinister level, such as late-night calls to reporters’ homes, threatening their lives or those of their family members? Nope. With, presumably, lots of experience with the Bush administration’s tactics, Rich comes up with several anemic examples:
The attacks continue to be so successful that even now, long after many news organizations, including The Times, have been found guilty of failing to puncture the administration's prewar W.M.D. hype, new details on that same story are still being ignored or left uninvestigated. The July 2002 "Downing Street memo," the minutes of a meeting in which Tony Blair and his advisers learned of a White House effort to fix "the intelligence and facts" to justify the war in Iraq, was published by The London Sunday Times on May 1. Yet in the 19 daily Scott McClellan briefings that followed, the memo was the subject of only 2 out of the approximately 940 questions asked by the White House press corps, according to Eric Boehlert of Salon.
Uh, are you blaming the Bush administration because reporters failed to ask pointed questions of Scott McClellan?
Rich then launches into a blistering attack on the Nixon White House, linking it ever so tenuously to today’s administration by stating they both like “lapdog” media outlets. Nixon’s special counsel Chuck Colson is singled out for abuse, as are the “blogging lynch mobs” who apparently can trace their ancestry to him. Strange, but I don’t remember ever getting a phone call from him, much less genetic material.
While this is neither here nor there, as more or less any competent writer will tell you, it provides a bit of a respite from the bouts of idiocy. But it doesn’t last. Rich soon notes that
Such is the equivalently supine state of much of the news media today that Mr. Colson was repeatedly trotted out, without irony, to pass moral judgment on Mr. Felt … None of the other TV anchors who interviewed Mr. Colson - and he was ubiquitous - ever specified his criminal actions in the Nixon years. Some identified him onscreen only as a "former White House counsel."
Had anyone been so rude (or professional) as to recount Mr. Colson's sordid past, or to raise the question of whether he was a hero or a traitor, the genealogical line between his Watergate-era machinations and those of his present-day successors would have been all too painfully clear.
Again, Rich’s problem seems to be with the unprofessional behavior of the mainstream media. But he doesn’t see it that way:
The main difference is that in the Nixon White House, the president's men plotted behind closed doors. The current administration is now so brazen it does its dirty work in plain sight.
In the most recent example, all the president's men slimed and intimidated Newsweek by accusing it of being an accessory to 17 deaths for its errant Koran story…These neo-Colsons easily drowned out Gen. Richard Myers, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Afghanistan's president, Hamid Karzai, both of whom said that the riots that led to the 17 deaths were unrelated to Newsweek. Then came the pièce de résistance of Nixon mimicry: a Pentagon report certifying desecrations of the Koran by American guards was released two weeks after the Newsweek imbroglio, at 7:15 p.m. on a Friday, to assure it would miss the evening newscasts and be buried in the Memorial Day weekend's little-read papers.
The mainstream media failed to give sufficient coverage to a news story that put the administration in a bad light! Must be George Bush’s fault. I mean, what’s the deal here? Does Rich believe that, should a reporter ask the “wrong” questions, he’ll be barred from the White House briefing room? Even if this is true (and Terry Moran
still appears to have a job), my followup question would be, “So what?” God forbid you lose your “access.” If you are an investigative reporter, then, dammit, investigate. If you’re afraid asking the wrong questions will put your job in jeopardy, you’re in the wrong business. The conclusion to Rich’s piece is remarkably dense, even by the standards of his piece:
But in the days that followed [the Felt revelation], Nixon and his history and the long shadows they cast largely vanished from the TV screen. In their place were constant nostalgic replays of young Redford and flinty Holbrook. Follow the bait-and-switch.
You are the media, largely unfettered by government control. You can say what you want (take for example your own piece, Mr. Rich—was it vetted by the administration prior to publication, I wonder?). If you don’t have the courage to report the way you really, deep-in-your-heart want to, don’t blame that on the Bush administration. Ask the questions, publish the answers—and let America decide.