Censored 2014

by Mickey Huff

  —Dan Simon and Veronica Liu, for Seven Stories Press; and Mickey Huff and Andy Lee Roth, for Project Censored

  How does censorship work in liberal societies? When my film, Year Zero: The Silent Death of Cambodia, was banned in the United States in 1980, the broadcaster PBS cut all contact. Negotiations were ended abruptly; phone calls were not returned. Something had happened, but what? Year Zero had already alerted much of the world to the horrors of Pol Pot, but it also investigated the critical role of the Nixon administration in the tyrant’s rise to power and the devastation of Cambodia.

  Six months later, a PBS official denied this was censorship. “We’re into difficult political days in Washington,” he said. “Your film would have given us problems with the Reagan administration. Sorry.”2

  In Britain, the long war in Northern Ireland spawned a similar, deniable censorship. The investigative journalist Liz Curtis compiled a list of forty-eight television films in Britain that were never shown or indefinitely delayed. The word “ban” was rarely used, and those responsible would invariably insist they believed in free speech.3

  The Lannan Foundation in Santa Fe, New Mexico, believes in free speech. The Foundation’s website (Lannan.org) says it is “dedicated to cultural freedom, diversity and creativity.” Authors, filmmakers, and poets make their way to a sanctum of liberalism bankrolled by the billionaire Patrick Lannan in the tradition of Carnegie, Rockefeller, and Ford. Lannan also awards “grants” to America’s liberal media, such as Free Speech TV, the Foundation for National Progress (which publishes Mother Jones magazine), the Nation Institute, and the TV and radio program Democracy Now! In Britain, until 2011, Lannan was a supporter of the Martha Gellhorn Prize for Journalism.

  The Lannan Foundation was set up in 1960 by J. Patrick Lannan, who amassed a fortune, much of it in art, while he was majority shareholder of the International Telephone and Telegraph Corporation (ITT). Founded in the 1920s, ITT had extensive interests in Europe. In the 1930s, ITT’s companies in Germany expanded; an ITT subsidiary owned 25 percent of the aircraft company Focke-Wulf, which supplied the Luftwaffe; at the height of the Second World War, this was a majority holding.

  During the American invasion of Vietnam in the 1960s, ITT produced navigation systems for laser-guided bombs and developed surveillance systems for what the Pentagon calls the “automated battlefield.” In 1971, President Salvador Allende nationalized ITT’s 70 percent interest in the Chilean Telephone Company. As declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) files show, ITT’s response was an eighteen-point covert “action plan” to overthrow Allende. According to The CIA’s Greatest Hits by Mark Zepezauer, the CIA “sponsored demonstrations and strikes, funded by ITT and other US corporations with Chilean holdings,” prior to General Augusto Pinochet’s September 1973 military coup. ITT funded El Mercurio, the Chilean daily that opposed Allende and backed Pinochet.4

  J. Patrick Lannan died in 1983. On the Lannan Foundation’s website, he is described as a “liberal thinker.” His son, Patrick, runs the Foundation today.

  On June 15, 2011, I was due in Santa Fe, having been invited to share a platform with David Barsamian, whose interviews for his Alternative Radio program have brought him acclaim, notably those with Noam Chomsky. The subject of my talk was the role of American liberalism in a permanent state of war and in the demise of freedoms, such as the right to call government to account. I intended to make the case that Barack Obama, a liberal, was as much a warmonger as George W. Bush and had prosecuted more whistle-blowers than any US president, and that his singular achievement had been to seduce, co-opt, and silence much of liberal opinion in the United States.

  The Lannan Foundation was also to host the US premiere of my new film, The War You Don’t See, which investigates the role of the media in war-making, especially liberal media such as the New York Times and the BBC. It is a film about censorship that does not speak its name.

  The organizer of my visit was Barbara Ventrello, Lannan’s director of Cultural Freedom Public Events, with whom I had been in frequent contact. “We’re all looking forward to seeing you here,” she said. “Your events are proving very popular.” On June 9, as I was about to leave for Santa Fe, I received this email:

  Dear John,

  I have just received a call from Patrick Lannan. . . . Something has come up and he has asked me to cancel all your events next week. He did not go into details so I have no idea what this is about, and I apologize. . . . We thank you for your understanding.

  With best regards,

  Barbara

  David Barsamian was driving down from Boulder, Colorado, when he was reached and advised to turn back. He, too, was given no explanation. A frequent guest at Lannan events, he said he had never known anything like it. “I was there a couple of weeks ago,” he told the Santa Fe New Mexican, “and Patrick said, ‘Wow, looking forward to this. It’s going to be great.’ I didn’t have a hint of any unease.”5

  I replied to Barbara Ventrello that Lannan was committed to staging the US premiere of my film at The Screen cinema in Santa Fe, and such an abrupt cancellation left me with no alternatives; the film’s national promotion was linked to the Santa Fe premiere. I asked that the screening go ahead. I received this reply:

  Dear John,

  I am very sorry, but as stated in my email to you yesterday, all events related to your visit to Santa Fe are cancelled. This includes the screening of your film.

  Regards,

  Barbara

  “All” was in italics and underlined. Again, no reason was given. Patrick Lannan had phoned her from California, she said, without explanation.

  I emailed Lannan himself several times and got no reply. I phoned him and left messages. A strange, unsettling silence followed. I phoned the manager of The Screen cinema in Santa Fe. “I’m baffled,” he said. “I was expecting a sellout, then late on the night before the online advertising was due to go up, I had a call from a Lannan person telling me to stop everything. She gave no explanation.”

  I suggested to the cinema manager that I come to Santa Fe anyway, but when I tried to buy the plane ticket Lannan had arranged for me, I was told by the travel agent: “I’ve contacted the Foundation, and they won’t allow you to buy it, even though this ticket, when cancelled, will be worthless. I don’t understand it.”

  On the Lannan website, “Cancelled” appeared across a picture of me. There was no explanation. Not one of my phone calls and emails was returned. A Kafkaesque world of not-knowing descended. Of the 195 events staged by the Lannan Foundation, only one has been banned.

  Like the cinema manager, the Santa Fe New Mexican had been called late on the night that a full-page interview with me by its arts reporter was about to go to press. “We had less than an hour to pull it,” said the arts editor. “They wouldn’t say why.” The New Mexican’s weekly arts supplement, Pasatiempo, in which the interview would appear, is a primary source of local interest and ticket sales for all Lannan events.

  The silence from Lannan lasted a week until, under pressure from local media, the Foundation put out a brief statement that too few tickets had been sold to make my visit “viable” and that “the Foundation regrets that the reason for the cancellation was not explained to Mr. Pilger or to the public at the time the decision was made.”6 The statement said that the film had been “secondary” and that I had “asked” for it to be shown. This was specious. With arrangements for a US premiere already under way, I offered an exclusive screening to Lannan. In March 2011, Barbara Ventrello had emailed me: “We would very much like to show your film. . . . We could possibly even schedule two showings. . . . We are sure there would be great interest in Santa Fe.”

  According to Patrick Lannan’s belated statement, there was little interest in any of my events. A Foundation spokesperson, Christie Mazuera Davis, told the Santa Fe New Mexican: “This doesn’t reflect that great on John, whom we were trying to protect, but he’s turned it into this situation . . . he could have very graciously
taken his check and said, ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’”7

  In other words, it was I who should have apologized for having my event and the premiere of my film cancelled summarily without consultation or explanation.

  A robust editorial in the Santa Fe New Mexican had this to say:

  On Tuesday, Lannan issued a statement to the effect that only 152 tickets to the Lensic presentation had been sold; that he simply sought to spare Pilger the embarrassment of a mostly empty house. Lannan’s explanation is bogus, and it serves only to further sully Lannan and his foundation’s reputation for advancing freedom of expression: He cancelled before the popular and closely followed Pasatiempo came out. Not to beat our breasts about its influence, but that magazine has a long history of prompting attendance at our community’s many cultural events—and of faithfully covering the foundation’s events, on their merits. Pilger and Barsamian could have expected closer to a packed 820-seat Lensic [Performing Arts Center].8

  The manager of The Screen cinema told me that no one from the Foundation had contacted him to ask how ticket sales were going. Had they done so, he would have told them that, once the advertising had gotten under way, he expected a full house. At my suggestion, he rescheduled the film for June 23. This was a sellout, with a line around the block and many people turned away. Lannan’s reason for the cancellation was demonstrably bogus.

  “Something is going to surface,” said David Barsamian. “They can’t keep the lid on this.”9

  I am not so sure.

  When I made the banning known, many in the US offered their support. Project Censored showed The War You Don’t See in Berkeley, CA and organized an audience conversation with me via Skype. Dennis Bernstein invited me on his KPFA/Pacifica Radio program, Flashpoints. Hundreds of people contacted me, suggesting the episode was symptomatic of a wider, insidious suppression. The great whistle-blower Daniel Ellsberg called the ban “poisonous.” He wrote to me: “Please count on me to participate in any way I can help out. This really needs to be investigated, publicized and resisted: seems especially ominous (though not exactly surprising). It’s an uphill, long, long struggle.”

  However, other distinguished liberal voices remained silent or, when I sought their support, were all but affronted that I had dared whisper the word “censorship” in association with such a beacon of “cultural freedom” as the Lannan Foundation. What was striking was how readily they expressed deference to Lannan, as if evidence was irrelevant. The tone was sometimes resentful, even angry, as though I had embarrassed their patron, and them. I emailed a friend in New York, who had published my work and whose various endeavors were backed by Patrick Lannan. “I shall appreciate whatever solidarity you can give,” I wrote, expecting no more than a gesture. When I suggested to him that Lannan’s action might be political, I was reminded of all the progressive people Lannan had invited to Santa Fe; my friend wrote that, anyway, Lannan “is not a liberal, but has much better politics.” He was concerned not with Lannan’s action but with puncturing various theories as to why Lannan had stopped my events. There was no solidarity. Defending Lannan was clearly a priority. The last message I received was in lawyer-speak. “Until I know the full story,” he wrote, “I am withholding any conclusive judgment.” At least, I began to understand the tentacular power of patronage.

  Around this time, I was due in New York to appear on Amy Goodman’s Democracy Now! to show clips of The War You Don’t See. I had sent a copy of the film ahead and agreed to dates with a producer. Amy Goodman had often interviewed me in New York and down the line in London. Once, she had devoted most of her show to my work.10 I admired what Amy Goodman did, and had presented her with a Lannan award in Santa Fe in 2002. On June 13, I emailed the producer and asked when the interview would take place. He replied: “Will discuss with other producers and Amy and get back to you.”

  That was the last I heard from Democracy Now! None of my phone calls and emails to Amy Goodman and her staff were returned. A longstanding relationship evaporated without a word. Democracy Now! is backed by the Lannan Foundation.11

  “The elites and their courtiers in the liberal class,” wrote Chris Hedges in his book Death of the Liberal Class, “always condemn the rebel as impractical. They dismiss the stance of the rebel as counterproductive. They chastise the rebel for being angry. The elites and their apologists call for reason, and patience. They use the hypocritical language of compromise, generosity, and understanding to accept that we must accept and work with the systems of power. The rebel, however . . . refuses to be bought off with foundation grants, invitations to the White House, television appearances, book contracts, academic appointments, or empty rhetoric.”12

  Such is the stirring prose of a celebrated liberal foe of censorship. I had written to Chris Hedges on June 13, 2011, quoting one of his pieces on censorship, entitled “Kafka’s America.” I explained what had happened and sought his support. He wrote back, “Dear John, I heard about this and am as mystified as you are . . . Chris.”

  Some eighteen months later when Hedges was promoting his book on liberal America, I wrote again. He replied, “Until I see evidence otherwise, I have to take Patrick at his word.”

  I provided the evidence otherwise. He said only that it was “out of character” for Lannan to censor otherwise. He added that Patrick Lannan and Amy Goodman were “two of the very few allies I have left. It is pretty bleak over here.” Chris Hedges is a Lannan Foundation “Fellow” frequently hosted in Santa Fe. His book is published by Nation Books, supported by Lannan.

  Such are the ties that bind often-beleaguered liberal opinion in the United States to powerful foundations like Ford, Carnegie, Rockefeller, and Lannan. The annual “Socialism” conference in Chicago—at which I have spoken—is funded by the billionaire of Santa Fe. This is not to suggest powerful individuals like Lannan do not promote exceptional cultural and political work; Patrick Lannan has been unstinting in his support for Palestinian writers, such as the late Edward Said. Neither am I implying that the dependents of Lannan-style largesse perform to any agenda. But there are always invisible boundaries: that is the nature of liberalism. Overstep these unwittingly, and the reaction can be swift, as it would be in any royal court. In his ruthless behavior toward me, my film, and David Barsamian, Patrick Lannan merely demonstrated his capricious license to do what he wanted, when and how he wanted, and without having to justify his action. It is this wielding of a power based entirely on wealth—not any theory of why he behaved the way he did—that is the essence of this episode. It is the power, in microcosm, of imperial America.

  In a 2011 article in the Santa Fe New Mexican, Robert M. Christie, professor emeritus of sociology at California State University–Dominguez Hills, wrote:

  When a community, or a nation for that matter, must depend upon the largess of a wealthy individual, or his foundation, or a few large corporations . . . for the free speech of renowned public intellectuals such as John Pilger, we are all in very deep trouble to begin with.

  I do not know Mr. Lannan, the sources of his wealth, nor how “connected” it and/or may be to “the powers that be,” but it seems likely that either (1) he and his foundation suddenly had an epic epiphany of fascistic proportion, or (2) someone rather high up in what I prefer to call the “petro-mil-corp-dys-infotainment” elite has somehow gotten to him . . .

  A key cultural failure attending the privatization of public functions is that people, including many “liberals,” have been persuaded that whoever runs such private foundations has the right to act privately with no responsibility to the public for the public consequences of their actions. Wrong! Any institution, public or private, the operations of which affect the public good, does owe the public an explanation for any action that appears contrary to the public interest. That is a moral, not legal, principle . . .

  We live in dangerous times. Many resist admitting that, especially when such danger emanates from our own increasingly corporate-controlled, anti-public instit
utions . . .

  What does Patrick Lannan fear? Civic-minded persons should want to know and he should tell us. [The public has a] right to seek the identity of any sources of political censorship, call them out and expose their corruption of the public interest.13

  JOHN PILGER has been a war correspondent, author, and filmmaker. An Australian based in London, he is only one of two to win British journalism’s highest award twice. He has been International Reporter of the Year and winner of the United Nations Association Peace Prize and Gold Medal. For his documentary films, he has won an Emmy and a British Academy Award. His first film, The Quiet Mutiny, made in 1970, revealed the rebellion within the US Army in Vietnam. His epic 1979 Cambodia Year Zero is ranked by the British Film Institute as one of the ten most important documentaries of the twentieth century. His Death of a Nation, filmed secretly in East Timor, had a worldwide impact in 1994. His books include Heroes, Distant Voices, Hidden Agendas, The New Rulers of the World, and Freedom Next Time. His website is www.johnpilger.com.

  Notes

  1. This is an expanded and updated version of an article originally published in the New Statesman, July 7, 2011, http://www.newstatesman.com/world-affairs/2011/07/pilger-foundation-obama-film, also at http://johnpilger.com/articles/the-strange-silencing-of-liberal-america.

  2. John Pilger, Heroes (London: Vintage, 2001[1986]), 411–412.

  3. Ibid., 516–520.

  4. “CIA Activities in Chile,” Central Intelligence Agency, September 18, 2000, https://www.cia.gov/library/reports/general-reports-1/chile/; Church Report, “Covert Action in Chile 1963–1973,” US Department of State, December 18, 1975, http://foia.state.gov/reports/churchreport. asp; Mark Zepezauer, The CIA’s Greatest Hits, 2nd ed., (Berkeley, CA: Soft Skull Press, 2012), 40–41.

  5. Paul Weideman, “Pilger: Claim of Too Few Tickets for Lannan Talk is Absurd,” Santa Fe New Mexican, June 15, 2011, http://www.sfnewmexican.com/Local%20News/Pilger--Claim-of-too-few-tickets--absurd-#.UbZMKOvR2aw.