In fact, it's considerably more fake than even the
average skeptic imagines:
I didn’t have any experience as a war reporter. Then I arrived in Baghdad.
I was fairly quickly sent along in a bus by the Iraqi army, the bus was full of
loud, experienced war reporters, from such prestigious media as the BBC,
several foreign TV-stations and newspapers, and me, poor newbie, who was sent
to the front for the first time without any kind of preparation. The first
thing I saw was that they all carried along cans of petrol. And I at once got
bad consciousness, because I thought: «oops, if the bus gets stuck far from a
petrol station, then everyone chips in with a bit of diesel’. I decided to in
the future also carry a can before I went anywhere, because it obviously was
part of it.
We drove for hours through the desert, towards the Iraqi border. Approx. 20-30 kilometers from the border, there really was nothing. First of all no war. There were armored vehicles and tanks, burned-out long ago. The journalist left the bus, splashed the contents of the cans on the vehicles. We had Iraqi soldiers with us as an escort, with machine guns, in uniform. You have to imagine: tanks in a desert, burned out long ago, now put on fire. Clouds of smoke. And there the journalists assemble their cameras.
It was my first experience with media, truth in reporting.
While I was wondering what the hell I was going to report for my newspaper, they all lined up and started: Behind them were flames and plumes of smoke, and all the time the Iraqis were running in front of camera with their machine guns, casually, but with war in their gaze. And the reporters were ducking all the time while talking.
So I gathered courage and asked one of the reporters: ‘I understand one thing, they are great pictures, but why are they ducking all the time? ‘
‘Quite simply because there are machine guns on the audio track, and it looks very good at home.’
That was several decades ago. It was in the beginning of my contact with war. I was thinking, the whole way back:’Young man, you didn’t see a war. You were in a place with a campfire. What are you going to tell?’
We drove for hours through the desert, towards the Iraqi border. Approx. 20-30 kilometers from the border, there really was nothing. First of all no war. There were armored vehicles and tanks, burned-out long ago. The journalist left the bus, splashed the contents of the cans on the vehicles. We had Iraqi soldiers with us as an escort, with machine guns, in uniform. You have to imagine: tanks in a desert, burned out long ago, now put on fire. Clouds of smoke. And there the journalists assemble their cameras.
It was my first experience with media, truth in reporting.
While I was wondering what the hell I was going to report for my newspaper, they all lined up and started: Behind them were flames and plumes of smoke, and all the time the Iraqis were running in front of camera with their machine guns, casually, but with war in their gaze. And the reporters were ducking all the time while talking.
So I gathered courage and asked one of the reporters: ‘I understand one thing, they are great pictures, but why are they ducking all the time? ‘
‘Quite simply because there are machine guns on the audio track, and it looks very good at home.’
That was several decades ago. It was in the beginning of my contact with war. I was thinking, the whole way back:’Young man, you didn’t see a war. You were in a place with a campfire. What are you going to tell?’
It's
entirely obvious that the world is very different than we were taught to
believe, and is actually very different than even the cynical and the skeptical
observe it to be.
