Keith Burgess-Jackson, J.D., Ph.D.

1-19-91 Saturday. It was bound to happen in this age of celebrities and entertainment: The media have become the story in the Persian Gulf war. Journalists claim to be invisible when they report the news. That is, they claim to be describing the world as it is, not as they wish it to be. If a journalist’s values, beliefs, or attitudes came through in his or her report, or even if the journalist superimposed a conceptual scheme on the events of the world, we would see the journalist instead of the world. That’s not supposed to happen. This is, of course, a conceit. Journalists can’t help but inject themselves into every story they report. The very act of determining what shall be reported is an act of interpretation. I wish journalists would recognize this and stop claiming to be value-neutral observers. What’s happening now is even worse: Television reporters are becoming celebrities, objects of attention. We know them by name; we know their backgrounds; and we become concerned for their safety. All of America held its breath when Bernard Shaw, Peter Arnett, and John Holleman [sic; should be “Holliman”] withstood an evening of bombing in Baghdad. Afterward, they were interviewed by other reporters; they had become part of the story, if not the story itself. As I understand it, things were different in the Vietnam war. News filtered in at least a day late and was rigidly controlled by the government. Television, which has brought war into our living rooms, was still a developing medium. But now the war has all the trappings of a miniseries, replete with heroes, villains, and tragedy. Reporters take their place on the set with everyone else.