There’s something about shock and awe that sticks with you.
Twenty years ago, my workshop for newspaper journalists at a conference center outside Warsaw, Poland, was interrupted with the breaking news that the U.S. and “a coalition of the willing” had invaded Iraq.
As that coalition included 900 troops from Poland, you can only imagine my awe when the workshop’s format got flipped on its head. Suddenly the top editors of Poland’s newspapers started interviewing me — an American — for articles about the meaning of the invasion.
“The first casualty of war is truth,” I told them, so be careful of whatever you think is “news,” especially in the early days of a conflict. It’s not an original idea, as the quote has echoed through history since Aeschylus (525 B.C.-456 B.C.), the Greek father of tragedy on stage.
But it was the best I could do, and it satisfied the journalists, including a group from Ukraine who had traveled 16 hours by car. Later I was sent a copy of a newspaper article with a nice photo of me and the quote in Polish.
I had booked the workshop far in advance knowing I would be free of teaching duties on Spring Break 2003. Day by day, leading up to my departure, I could see the war coming. As I traveled through airports, the screaming front-page headlines were eerily the same: “The Last Chance.”
President George W. Bush had traveled to the Azores islands off Portugal to announce with European leaders that they were giving Iraq’s leader, Saddam Hussein, the last chance to give up his weapons, including those of mass destruction.
One British newspaper delivered an alternative view with its own screaming headline, “The Last Charade.” And, indeed, Bush made the fateful decision to invade Iraq with “shock and awe” blazing from March 19 to 21, 2003.
So began one of America’s longest wars, which officially ended twice (2009, 2011) after “mission accomplished” (2003), though we still have U.S. troops in Iraq.
Over the years Bush deflected questions about the Iraq War’s impact, saying it would take at least 20 years to know. Well, 20 years is up.
Any reflections on the meaning of America’s wars must begin with heartfelt thanks to those who served and their families, especially those whose loved ones lost a piece of their bodies or minds, or their lives. Then we must pay our respects to all the civilians who died or were injured. War is hell — no originality there, either.
If you have not binge-watched the television series “Turn: Washington’s Spies,” I highly recommend it, as the episodes cast light on war and the press from our violent, yet triumphant, beginning. Little has changed, really.
As I have often lectured to my Journalism 101 students, they must be loyal to truth, though that’s easier said than done. Truth has at least three dimensions: what people are telling you, what’s really going on, and what can be seen from a historical perspective.
George Washington, the father of our country, could not have succeeded at war without deception.
As painful as it is now, you can watch President Bush’s national address on the rationale for the Iraq War, Vice President Dick Cheney’s prediction of a short conflict on “Meet the Press” and General Colin Powell’s speech to the United Nations on “facts” about weapons of mass destruction.
As the great Aretha Franklin once asked: “Who’s Zoomin’ Who?”
Were they duping us, or were they duped? No matter, the first casualty of war is truth. Just keep that in mind, as today you listen to “news” about the war in Ukraine.
Buck Ryan is a journalism professor at the University of Kentucky. He is conducting a “participatory case study” of the Chatham News + Record, which he considers a model community newspaper.