For some, the lesson ran the other way, with criticism of the war on terror depicted as somehow inherently dangerous or unpatriotic. Less than a week after 9/11, the comedian Bill Maher, host of ABC’s late-night talk show Politically Incorrect, caused a media firestorm when he argued that, however despicable they might be, it was wrong to call terrorists “cowardly” as many were then doing. “We have been the cowards lobbing cruise missiles from 2,000 miles away,” Maher insisted. “That’s cowardly. Staying in the airplane while it hits the building, say what you want about it, it’s not cowardly.” Backlash to Maher’s comments was immediate. ABC initially stood by the host, but more than a dozen affiliates pulled the program and major advertisers like FedEx and Sears dropped their support too. Asked about Maher’s remarks, White House Press Secretary Ari Fleischer only inflamed the controversy. “It’s a terrible thing to say,” he said. “There are reminders to all Americans that they need to watch what they say, watch what they do, and this is not a time for remarks like that; there never is.” Maher tried to backtrack, but the damage had been done. The following spring, ABC announced that his show would be canceled.40
Back in Iraq
Confident after the success it had had toppling the Taliban in Afghanistan, the administration suggested that further interventions overseas were coming. In January 2002, the president used his State of the Union Address to warn about an “axis of evil” that included North Korea, Iran, and Iraq, three “rogue states” that he said were harboring terrorists and seeking to obtain weapons of mass destruction. Despite the invocation of these three nations, the real focus for the White House remained squarely on Iraq. Many leaders in the administration, especially holdovers from the first Bush administration, such as Cheney, remained determined to take out Saddam Hussein.41 Even while the 9/11 attacks were still unfolding, Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld saw an opportunity to use the event to take on Iraq, a nation whom many in the administration had been eager to strike from the start. Notes from his aides revealed his desire for a sweeping response: “Best info fast. Judge whether good enough to hit S. H. [Saddam Hussein] at same time not only U.B.L. [Usama Bin Laden]. Go massive. Sweep it all up. Things related and not.” Such voices in the administration convinced the president to act in the same vein. In March 2002, according to one report, Bush popped into a meeting on Iraq that his National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice was having with several senators. Learning the topic of discussion, the president declared bluntly: “Fuck Saddam. We’re taking him out.” 42
Publicly, the president and his supporters continued to make their case about the threat posed by Hussein. The administration worked hard to disseminate information about these weapons programs, even if much of it was based on suspect intelligence. In the 2002 midterm election, national security stood front and center. “Really good policy,” White House political advisor Mark McKinnon explained, “is really good politics. It’s the right thing to do for the right reasons. It also throws a huge blanket over the entire domestic agenda. The domestic agenda right now is security. It’s covering up everything else.” The Republican National Committee nationalized the campaign by emphasizing how successful the GOP had been in taking on the Taliban, erasing the overwhelming support provided by Democrats. In some races, this emphasis turned ugly. In Georgia, for instance, Republicans attacked Senator Max Cleland, a Vietnam veteran who had lost his right arm and both legs, as being “soft” on national security because he opposed the administration’s initial proposal to create a Department of Homeland Security with nongovernment workers. One campaign spot featured a photograph of Senator Cleland alongside Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein. For some Republicans, the ad was a step too far. “It’s worse than disgraceful,” said Senator John McCain of Arizona, a fellow Vietnam veteran. “It’s reprehensible.” 43
In the middle of the 2002 campaign, the administration requested from Congress a resolution authorizing the use of force in Iraq. To rationalize the need for a preemptive military operation, the White House argued that Hussein possessed a devastating arsenal of “weapons of mass destruction” that might be used against the United States and key allies like Israel. The vice president’s office pushed back against media skepticism about the administration’s claims that Iraq actually possessed substantial amounts of weapons of mass destruction. Still, a number of prominent Republicans, including those from the first Bush presidency, warned that the costs of trying to remove Hussein would be too high. Some Democrats questioned the need for a second war against a nation that had had nothing to do with 9/11. But many others, including senators who were potential 2004 presidential candidates, such as Hillary Clinton and John Kerry, feared the political costs of saying no and thus supported the president’s plan with qualifications. In October, Congress passed a resolution authorizing the use of force in Iraq.
Following the midterm elections, which saw Max Cleland go down to defeat and gave Republicans control of both chambers, the lame-duck Congress established the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). The new cabinet-level department would now centralize and coordinate government operations in the war on terror but also work to encourage readiness in the civilian population. The department unveiled a color-coded system of Homeland Security Advisory alerts, which were meant to inform Americans about the daily threat level but only seemed to confuse them more, as the designations seemed arbitrary and unclear. Comedians soon mocked the system—“champagne-fuscia means we’re being attacked by Martha Stewart,” Conan O’Brien joked—and the general public soon learned to ignore it. Other DHS actions prompted a similar mix of alarm and derision. In a callback to the nuclear bomb shelters that had proliferated in the early Cold War era, DHS officials now urged Americans to prepare their homes for chemical and gas attacks. In February 2003, DHS Secretary Tom Ridge and the US fire administrator urged citizens to stockpile three days of water and food, plus radios and batteries, in order to weather an attack. Homeowners should also buy enough plastic sheeting and duct tape, officials instructed, to be able to seal off all the doors and windows of the home as well. Hardware stores soon reported skyrocketing sales of the supplies, especially duct tape. “Everything that was on that newscast,” a manager of a Virginia Home Depot noted, “we are selling a lot of it.” And indeed, the “war on terror” opened a new range of business ventures, ranging from companies that pitched consumers an array of survival goods, including “nuke pills” and “apocalypse houses,” to major venture capital funds that saw financial fortunes to be made in the chaos.44
As the administration moved forward aggressively toward intervention in Iraq, it showed the world another side with a new commitment to the international fight against global HIV/AIDS. In the early years of his presidency, it seemed likely Bush would lead a retreat from the Clinton administration’s fight against AIDS at home and abroad, as he only made cautious steps in supporting the international fight against the disease. In May 2001, Bush announced the United States would contribute $200 million to the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Malaria and Tuberculosis; in June 2002, he promised to increase funding to that UN-backed program to $500 million. Such funds were “desperately needed,” experts noted, but not nearly enough. “That is a drop in the ocean,” noted Dr. Peter Lamptey, director of the AIDS Institute at Family Health International. “The U.S. could do a lot more, and the amount they are spending is disappointing, very disappointing.” 45
In his January 2003 State of the Union Address, Bush surprised such critics by announcing that his administration would significantly ramp up its commitments by dedicating $15 billion over the next five years to the global fight against AIDS. Many reacted with skepticism, but Bush quickly went to work, lobbying aggressively for the legislation and marshaling biblical language to win over religious conservatives. “When we see a plague leaving graves and orphans across a continent, we must act,” he urged. “When we see the wounded traveler on the road to Jericho, we will not—America will not—pass to the other side of the road.” 46 H
e found strong support from a number of congressional Republicans, including Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist, a doctor who had taken the lead in the Senate when his party regained control of both chambers of Congress. Only four months after the initial proposal, the full $15 billion in funding had been secured. The initiative—officially known as the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR)—was directly responsible for a massive increase in the number of people on the African continent who would receive the anti-retroviral drugs that keep HIV from developing into AIDS. Roughly 50,000 Africans had access to these life-saving drugs before PEPFAR. By the end of Bush’s term in office, that number had risen to 1.2 million, continuing to rise thereafter. Millions of lives were saved as a result. In the eyes of most observers, it stood as the clearest sign that “compassionate conservatism” was more than an empty slogan.47
At the same time, the Bush administration continued its steady march to war. With troops in Afghanistan still trying to maintain order and solidify the new government and Osama Bin Laden still at large, the Bush White House faced an uphill climb in selling a new military operation. For many in the administration, making the case for the war in Iraq revealed a new set of powers and also a new realm of possibilities. In the summer of 2002, reporter Ron Suskind had a startling conversation with a senior Bush advisor, who noted dismissively that journalists were stuck “in what we call the reality-based community,” which he defined as those who “believe that solutions emerge from your judicious study of discernible reality.” “That’s not the way the world really works anymore,” this White House advisor insisted. “We’re an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you’re studying that reality—judiciously, as you will—we’ll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that’s how things will sort out. We’re history’s actors,” the Bush official concluded confidently, “and you, all of you, will be left to study what we do.” In such ways, the political leaders of the Bush White House steadily waved away the insights of experts. Instead, they began with their own conclusions and, only later, found the evidence to prop up those claims. The path to Iraq showed the successes of such an approach, but also its limits.48
In the months leading up to the war, the administration accelerated the campaign to convince Americans that Iraq posed a threat to them. In February 2003, Secretary of State Colin Powell, one of the most trusted officials in American politics, testified on television before the United Nations Security Council to present data “proving” that Iraq had a serious, operational weapons program. Though most of the evidence was based on flimsy intelligence, the images and transcripts were enough to bolster support for the war in the United States, especially coming from Powell. “People may disagree with him, but they never question his integrity or dead honesty,” Reagan’s secretary of state George Shultz noted at the time. “If he says something, they know he believes it—and means it.” With Powell putting his credibility behind the administration’s claims, the United States managed to put together an international coalition of supporters, despite the objection of long-standing allies such as France.49
As war seemed increasingly inevitable, a significant opposition took shape. The protests against the war in Iraq proved larger than any antiwar movement since the nuclear freeze campaigns of the 1980s and the protests against the Vietnam War in the 1960s. But this time, the protests took on new forms. Notably, the internet offered activists a tool to reach huge numbers of Americans with information and messages about protests. A group in Vermont called TrueMajority.org, for instance, raised $1 million and grew its ranks to 350,000 members from the time Congress passed the resolution authorizing the use of force to the time of the actual invasion. Meanwhile, MoveOn.org, an organization formed in 1998 by technology entrepreneurs Joan Blades and Wes Boyd to oppose the impeachment of Bill Clinton, evolved into the principal platform to fight the war. The organization used email, social network sites, and online balloting, as well as more traditional television and print ads, to put pressure on politicians to oppose President Bush’s operation. On February 15, 2003, there were protests in hundreds of cities around the globe, with an estimated 12–14 million people taking part in the largest international protest ever. In New York, approximately 400,000 took the streets on a freezing day, shouting “Not in our name!” 50
Despite the size and scope of such protests, the media paid little attention. Antiwar sentiment was significantly marginalized, especially on the cable news networks. On MSNBC, for instance, the outspoken liberal Phil Donahue’s nightly program had emerged in late 2002 and early 2003 as one of the few places where antiwar opinions were expressed with any regularity or sympathy. Three weeks before the invasion of Iraq, MSNBC executives canceled the show. Publicly, the network cited low ratings, but privately it had a different rationale. “Donahue represents a difficult public face for NBC in a time of war,” one executive explained in an internal memo. “At the same time, our competitors are waving the flag at every opportunity.” Dissent was simply “not good for business,” Donahue later recalled. Instead of the liberal’s antiwar platform, MSNBC announced it would fill the timeslot with an expanded two-hour edition of a much more popular program, Countdown: Iraq.51
The backlash to antiwar critics spread far beyond the world of journalism. On March 10, 2003, the Dixie Chicks, a popular country music trio, condemned the rush to war during a concert in London and criticized the president. “Just so you know,” lead singer Natalie Maines told the crowd, “we’re on the good side with y’all. We do not want this war, this violence, and we’re ashamed the president of the United States is from Texas.” The singer’s comment originally passed with little notice, but within a few days that had all changed. “Reports of the remark spread to the United States through Web sites,” the New York Times marveled, “notably the Drudge Report and a conservative site called Freerepublic.com, and in no time, the Dixie Chicks . . . found themselves the subject of radio boycotts and public CD burnings.” Maines apologized, but the backlash and boycotts remained strong, leading to a 20 percent drop in the band’s airplay.52
After months of anticipation, the war in Iraq began on March 20, 2003. Following the lessons from the first Gulf War, the Bush White House did everything it could to use cable and network news media to dramatize and publicize the effort. The military brass kept the media on message with daily briefings from its Coalition Media Center in nearby Qatar. General Tommy Franks provided slick, media-friendly briefings on a quarter-million-dollar stage constructed by a set designer who had previously worked for Disney, MGM, and the illusionist David Blaine. The first round of airstrikes, promoted by the Pentagon as the “Shock and Awe” campaign, provided live televised images of “surgical strikes” on targets in Iraq. The full might of the military was now on display, with the human casualties completely obscured. It was, columnist Frank Rich complained, “a victory of TV’s show business instincts over news. It was the irresistible clichéd climax to the first 72 hours of TV war coverage with its triumphal story line bereft of gore.” Amazed by the fawning coverage given by the media in the initial days of the war, a former Pentagon spokesman could only marvel: “If you hired actors, you could not have gotten better coverage.” 53
Most significantly, when the ground attack began, troops entered Iraq with reporters “embedded” in their units, ensuring that American audiences would literally experience combat from the perspective of American troops alone. “It’s been an extraordinary experience for all of us,” CBS News president Andrew Heyward raved. “This really has been, not just a quantitative change, but a qualitative change in war journalism.” The new practice of “embeds” changed not just how the war was seen at home, but how it was fought in the field. Embedded NBC reporter Chip Reid recalled a debate he saw between two US marines over what to do with some Iraqi civilians they encountered, with one calling for all the Iraqis to be shot and the other counseling caution, as the NBC cameras recorded it all. “I though
t at the time they were partly performing for us,” Reid remembered. “I don’t know how different the conversation would have been if we hadn’t been there, but I suspect it would have been different.” A later analysis from BBC News made it clear that, for all their claims of providing unvarnished access to the front lines, broadcasts from “embeds” had in fact been highly sanitized. There was, the report concluded, a conscious desire not to present viewers at home with images that were too graphic or potentially upsetting. The administration also prohibited reporters from covering the returning bodies of soldiers, with the stated intention of protecting the privacy of the families but the strategic hope of blunting the kind of backlash that developed earlier over images of body bags coming back from Vietnam.54
Initially, the war went quite smoothly, generating nothing but good news for audiences at home. As in Afghanistan, the American-led coalition made quick inroads against Iraqi forces and soon brought down the Hussein regime. The joint military and media campaigns reached their peak on May 1, 2003. In a carefully scripted photo-op, President Bush, a former Texas Air National Guard pilot, dramatically landed a plane on the USS Abraham Lincoln. The aircraft carrier had been positioned off the California coast, half a world away from the combat zone, especially for the event. The images of Bush, striding confidently across the aircraft carrier in a flight suit, proved irresistible for many in the media. New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd compared him to Tom Cruise’s Navy fighter pilot from the action film Top Gun. “Maverick was back, cooler and hotter than ever,” she raved, “throttling to the max with joystick politics.” On MSNBC, Chris Matthews was likewise thrilled about the president’s performance. “Americans love having a guy as president, a guy who has a little swagger, who’s physical,” he said. After changing back into a business suit, the president then delivered a more serious speech from the carrier deck, in which he declared the end of combat operations in Iraq. Behind him on the upper reaches of the aircraft carrier stretched a huge banner: “Mission Accomplished.” 55
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