July 19, 2005
On May 15, Tomdispatch posted a piece Mark Danner wrote for the New York Review of Books on the Downing Street Memo, the first of a string of secret documents leaked to the Times of London
from the upper reaches of the British government, which cumulatively
offered an unprecedented look inside the Bush administration as it was
preparing, 8 months ahead of time, to prosecute a war against Iraq. By
the time Danner wrote his piece, the memo, released by the London Times
on May 1, had already sped around the Internet, but had still not seen
the print light-of-day in the United States. Neither the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, nor the Washington Post
thought the notes of a meeting of Tony Blair's war cabinet in which the
head of M16, the British equivalent of the CIA director, discusses
recent high-level private talks in Washington, a memo with a classic
line -- "But the intelligence and facts were being fixed around the
policy." -- was fit enough to print or even highlight on their front
As a consequence, the editors of the New York Review of Books took the adventurous step of doing what major mainstream publications should obviously have done. In their June 9th issue, a review of books,
became the first American publication to put the document in print. (In
this striking act, it was in one way typical. Along with bloggers,
websites like Juan Cole's Informed Comment, and publications like the trade journal Editor & Publisher, the academic publication The Chronicle of Higher Education, and Comedy Central's The Daily Show, it broke or highlighted a story that by all rights should have been major news in the mainstream.)
Michael Kinsley, editorial and opinion editor for the Los Angeles Times, then wrote a piece typical of this mainstream moment in the Washington Post, (No Smoking Gun),
discounting the importance of the Downing Street Memos as, among other
things, no more than "an encouraging sign of the revival of the left.
Developing a paranoid theory and promoting it to the very edge of
national respectability takes a certain amount of ideological
self-confidence." Danner, in a second piece on the Downing Street Memos, also published in the New York Review of Books, offered a critique of Kinsley's piece and Kinsley responded in a letter to the Review in which he again dismissed the original memo, this time as "fairly worthless." Danner answers in the Review's upcoming August 11th issue (on newsstands next week). Their exchange follows below.
Danner writes at one point of "the widening gap between what
[Americans] are told and what they see -- a gap that, when it comes to
the Iraq war, is becoming harder and harder to ignore." Kinsley's
letter catches something of the mood of what we are indeed being told.
Another recent example involves the Plame case. For the last week, as
Special Counsel Patrick Fitzgerald jailed a reporter and forced another
to talk, as journalists pelted White House spokesman Scott McClellan
with angry questions, the case spilled onto front pages everywhere, but
in a remarkably obtuse way. Back on July 11, 2003, we now know, Time magazine's Matt Cooper had emailed his bureau chief that, in a conversation
on "double super secret background," Karl Rove told him "it wasů
wilson's wife, who apparently works at the agency on wmd issues who
authorized the trip." So the question of last week became: Does
identifying Joe Wilson's CIA agent/wife Valerie Plame as "wilson's
wife" count as naming her.
This exchange on the July 12 Charlie Rose Show catches the near-comic tone of the moment:
"CHARLIE ROSE: So my question is, did Karl Rove ever name her specifically?
"[New York Times correspondent] RICHARD STEVENSON: Well,
what he did was he alluded to her job and her role in getting her
husband this job, going to Africa, but he did not use her name
specifically. Whether that amounts to identifying her or not under the
law is something that we don`t know, and will be up to initially the
special prosecutor in the case to make a judgment on, and then
ultimately, should it ever come to this, to a juryů.
"CHARLIE ROSE: OK. But let me just make this clear, and I think it`s
clear, but Karl Rove, according to Matt [Cooper], never identified by
name Valerie, and, secondly -- Joe Wilson`s wife -- and, secondly,
never said that she was a covert CIA operative. He simply said that the
wife of Joe Wilson was responsible for sending him to Niger.
"RICHARD STEVENSON: Yes, that is what Matt Cooper`s e-mail to his
bureau chief said. And since that`s all we have to go on, that`s where
it stands right now."
As with the famed Clinton electoral campaign mantra, "It's the economy,
stupid," right now reporters for major papers should just hang a giant
sign over their collective computer, "It's the war, stupid." Because
they haven't done so, and because the larger constitutional crisis that
lurks behind the war in Iraq is little thought about, the leaking of
the Downing Street Memos, the revving up of the Plame case, and other
such events are dealt with, except in rare instances (as in Frank
Rich's most recent New York Times column, Follow the Uranium)
as discrete, unconnected events, and so all larger meaning is sucked
out of them. (And then the same reporters get on television and opine
that the American people won't give a fig about the complex
ins-and-outs of such matters.) In this way, we're left with bizarre
media spectacles like the endless discussion about whether Rove "named"
Plame. (Homer Simpson would know how to respond to that one: Doh!)
I'm sorry but what planet are we on? It's like watching Medieval monks
arguing over those angels on the head of a pin or the size of the camel
that might indeed fit through the eye of the needle, while the world
out there is actually riotously visible. And then, of course, if you
want to find out why the media is this way, you have to turn to Mark Danner or Michael Massing in the New York Review of Books or Orville Schell at this site, or perhaps Jay Rosen, the creator of the PressThink blog, who just posted a remarkable piece
on the Bush administration's unprecedented "rollback" policy in
relation to the media; how it has "succeeded in changing the terms of
engagement with journalists"; and why the sudden media assertiveness at
White House press briefings is no special sign of renewed courage.
(Answer, unlike the press, it's not so easy to rollback a special
In the meantime, the largest of events are transpiring. While there is
officially no means for the Bush administration to implode (impeachment
not being a political possibility), nonetheless, implosion is certainly
possible. If and when the unraveling begins, the proximate cause,
whether the Plame affair or something else entirely, is likely to surprise us all but none more than the members of the mainstream media.
Facing the most mobilized administration in memory, possibly the
greatest gamblers in American history since Jefferson Davis, men (and a
woman) who -- give them credit -- look at the world through a
distinctly oversized geopolitical lens, the press has, for almost four
years, essentially demobilized itself. It has been incapable of connecting the dots,
and so has been left arguing over whether Joe Wilson's wife and Valerie
Plame were one and the same, and whether the Downing Street Memo
provides "proof" of George Bush's state of mind. Fortunately, Mark
Danner does exist and the New York Review of Books -- whose editors have been kind enough once again to let Tomdispatch post his latest work -- is around to print his pieces. Tom
The Memo, the Press, and the War
An Exchange between Michael Kinsley and Mark Danner
[Writing about the Iraq war and the Downing Street memo in the July 14th issue of the New York Review of Books, Mark Danner commented on a recent column by Los Angeles Times editorial and opinion editor Michael Kinsley, No Smoking Gun.(1) Mr. Kinsley has now responded. His letter and Mark Danner's reply appear below.]
To the Editors:
It's easy to appreciate the frustration of "Downing Street Memo"
enthusiasts like Mark Danner. They think they have documentary proof
that President Bush had firmly decided to go to war against Iraq by
July 2002. Yet some people say the memo isn't newsworthy because the
charge is not true, while others say the memo isn't newsworthy because
the charge is so obviously true. A smoking gun is sitting there on the
table, but he's going to get away with murder because everyone -- for
different reasons -- won't pick it up.
And I think Danner is right to resent the whole "smoking gun"
business -- an artifact of Watergate --which comes close to
establishing the old Chico Marx joke, "Who are you gonna believe: me or
your own two eyes," as a serious standard of proof. Not every villain
is going to tape record his villainy. George W. Bush, as I noted in the
column that Danner objects to, is especially good at insisting that
reality is what he would like it to be, and the smoking-gun standard
helps him to get
away with this.
But the DSM is worthless if it is not a smoking gun -- not because I
need a smoking gun to be persuaded (a "cynical and impotent attitude,"
Danner says), but precisely because people who don't require a smoking
gun are already persuaded. And the document is just not that smoking
gun. It basically says that the conventional wisdom in Washington in
July 2002 was that Bush had made up his mind and war was certain.
"What," Danner asks, "could be said to establish 'truth' -- to 'prove
it'?" I suggested in the column that it would have been nice if the
memo had made clear that the people saying facts were fixed and war was
certain were actual administration decision-makers. Danner asks, Who
else could the head of British intelligence, reporting on the mood and
gossip of "Washington," be talking about if not "actual
decision-makers"? He has got to be kidding.
In short, the DSM will not persuade anyone who is not already
persuaded. That doesn't make it wrong. But that does make the memo
Los Angeles Times
Mark Danner replies:
For more than two years the United States has been fighting a war in
Iraq that was launched in the cause of destroying weapons that turned
out not to exist. One might have thought such a strange and
unprecedented historical event -- which has thus far cost the lives of
nearly eighteen hundred young Americans, and counting -- might attract
the strong and sustained interest of a free press. It has --in Great
In the United States when it comes to this central issue of our
politics we have in general been treated to the vaguely depressing
spectacle of a great many very intelligent people struggling very hard
to make themselves stupid. Such has been the general plot line
of the press reception of the so-called Downing Street memo and the
other government documents associated with it, which tell much about
how the Iraq war actually began. I'm afraid the admirable Michael
Kinsley, in dismissing the memo as "worthless" (he later promotes it to
"fairly worthless"), once again rather exemplifies this trend.
Though leaders in the United Kingdom and the United States have
tried hard to cast the memo as something exotic and recondite --
"people...take bits out here of this memo or that memo, or something
someone's supposed to have said at the time," as Prime Minister Tony Blair
in Washington last month  -- in fact the document is nothing more
than the record of a meeting Blair had with his highest officials at 10
Downing Street on July 23, 2002. Despite Blair's dismissal of the memo,
no one, including him, has suggested that the minutes of the meeting --
the equivalent of a National Security Council meeting in the United
States -- are anything but genuine. The Downing Street memo is an
actual record of what Britain's highest officials were saying, in
private, about the coming Iraq war eight months before the war started.
The meeting began -- as indeed most National Security Council
meetings begin -- with a summary of the current intelligence. Sir
Richard Dearlove, the head of MI6, Britain's equivalent of the CIA, had
just returned from high-level consultations in the United States. To
begin the discussion, then, Sir Richard "reported on his recent talks
in Washington." Here once again, in its entirety, is the report Sir
Richard gave to his prime minister and his colleagues:
"There was a perceptible shift in attitude. Military
action was now seen as inevitable. Bush wanted to remove Saddam,
through military action, justified by the conjunction of terrorism and
WMD. But the intelligence and facts were being fixed around the policy.
The NSC had no patience with the UN route, and no enthusiasm for
publishing material on the Iraqi regime's record. There was little
discussion in Washington of the aftermath after military action."
Mr. Kinsley contends that here Sir Richard is reporting on "the mood
and gossip of 'Washington'" -- as opposed, he says, to the views of
"actual administration decision-makers." I am unsure whom Kinsley
thinks the head of British intelligence sees when he takes a secret
trip to Washington to consult with his country's most important ally
about a coming war. We know Sir Richard met with Director of Central
Intelligence George Tenet, his opposite number, who, as a cabinet
member who briefs the President personally every morning, would
presumably be considered an "actual administration decision-maker." We
can assume that the other calls that the head of British intelligence
paid during his "talks in Washington" were at a comparably high level.
Of course, none of Sir Richard's colleagues, including his prime
minister, demand to know who his sources were. And yet they go forward
with the meeting, taking Sir Richard's central points -- that war is
inevitable, that intelligence is being fixed to prepare for it and for
a "justification" based on "the conjunction of terrorism and WMD," and
that the United States will resist going "the UN route" -- as the point
of departure, setting off a discussion (the true heart of the memo) of
the need to persuade the United States to "go the UN route" to give
some clothing of legality to a war the legal case for which, as the
foreign secretary says, is quite "thin." Why is it, one might ask, that
the prime minister and the highest security officials of Great Britain
do not demand that Sir Richard reveal his sources -- why is it, in
other words, that these officials are so much more credulous than
Could it be because the prime minister and other officials think Sir
Richard on his return from Washington is bringing from officials at the
highest levels of the American government ("actual administration
decision-makers") information of the highest reliability --
information, no doubt, that echoes what the cabinet ministers
themselves have been hearing from their own Washington opposite
Indeed, if, as Mr. Kinsley contends, what Sir Richard tells his
prime minister and his colleagues represents not the views of "actual
administration decision-makers" but the "mood and gossip of
'Washington,'" then does it not seem rather odd that the highest
officials of Great Britain, America's closest ally, would rely on it to
make their own most vital decisions of national security? Does it not
seem rather more plausible to believe what Prime Minister Blair and his
ministers all seem to believe: that what Sir Richard says in his report
represents the definitive views of "actual administration
decision-makers" and not the speculations of journalists or cab
drivers? As Michael Smith, the London Times reporter
-- and strong Iraq war supporter -- who first published this document,
said when asked about the authority and sources of Sir Richard
"This was the head of MI6. How much authority do you
want the man to have? He has just been to Washington, he has just
talked to George Tenet. He said the intelligence and facts were being
fixed around the policy. That translates in clearer terms as the
intelligence was being cooked to match what the administration wanted
it to say to justify invading Iraq. Fixed means the same here as it
Who -- in Kinsley's phrase -- has got to be kidding?
There is, of course, the further point, not a minor one, that pretty
much everything Sir Richard says in his little summary turns out to be
true. America and Britain did go to war to remove Saddam. Military
action was justified by the conjunction of terrorism and WMD. The U.S.
did have no idea what to do in "the aftermath after military action."
And the intelligence and facts were fixed around the policy.
Of course, according to the rules under which Kinsley, and much of
the rest of the American press, profess to be playing, one cannot say
this; after all, this is the case that the Downing Street memo, all by
itself, must be shown to prove. But the requirement is purely
artificial. Though, scandalously, the country has had no properly
constituted investigation, congressional or otherwise, empowered to look into policymakers' use of intelligence before the Iraq war -- indeed, such investigations
as there have been have explicitly excluded precisely this central
issue  -- an avalanche of other proof has shown how the
administration "fixed the facts" around its policy of invading Iraq.
It is plain by now that the intelligence the CIA and other U.S.
agencies produced on Iraq and its weapons programs was poor, and was
built on shockingly shallow information. It is also plain that Bush
administration officials, far from pressing the agencies for the best,
most reliable intelligence, instead relentlessly and blatantly
exaggerated the slender intelligence that the government did possess,
in order to make its case for war. Though thus far the administration
has managed to block a true investigation of this misuse of
intelligence by policymakers, and the Republican-controlled Congress
has gone along, many examples of it are already known to the public.
One could cite President Bush's insistence on telling the world that
"Saddam Hussein recently sought significant quantities of uranium from
Africa," when the CIA had explicitly warned him that it could not
confirm this information. One could point to the administration's
doctoring of the declassified version of the National Intelligence
Estimate on Iraq given to Congress in October 2002, in which all of the
considerable qualifiers included in the original report were removed.
One could quote the repeated references by Vice President Cheney,
Condoleezza Rice, and other officials to "reconstituted nuclear
weapons" and a "smoking gun becoming a mushroom cloud," when the
administration had little or no real evidence to prove Iraq had an
ongoing nuclear program.
The fact is that the administration blatantly exaggerated the
intelligence it was given to convince the country to go to war --
"rolling out the new product," as White House Chief of Staff Andrew
Card called the coming public relations campaign in August 2002 -- and
then, after the fall of Baghdad, when the weapons of mass destruction
refused to turn up, the President and other administration officials
blamed the CIA and other agencies for supplying intelligence that was
"misleading." Having politicized the intelligence before the war,
administration officials turned around and blamed the intelligence
agencies for misleading them -- with the very intelligence that they
themselves had politicized.
That the Republican Congress -- and notably the Senate Intelligence
Committee -- has failed to fully investigate this is not news; as I
wrote in my article, the committee first separated the question of
"policymakers' use of intelligence" from the question of the
performance of the intelligence agencies themselves, then helpfully
postponed its investigation of the first question -- the critical
question -- until after the election; now the promised report has been
abandoned altogether. Still, the administration's "fixing of the facts
and intelligence around the policy" has been quite well documented in other public sources.
Indeed, one catches glimpses of it even in the severely circumscribed
reports that Congress and the administration have allowed to be
produced. That is, if anyone still needs to be convinced; as Kinsley
writes in his original column, "we know now that was true and a half.
Fixing intelligence and facts to fit a desired policy is the Bush II
governing style, especially concerning the war in Iraq."
If Kinsley is convinced that it is "true and a half" that the Bush
"governing style, especially concerning the war in Iraq," is to "fix
intelligence and facts to fit a desired policy," then what exactly was
the evidence that convinced him? On this point he is silent. Presumably
he has gained this conviction after reading various accounts of the
decision-making leading up to the war, notably Bob Woodward's and
Richard Clarke's; after examining certain documents, such as those I
have cited; and after watching the progress of events during the last
several years. Presumably the Downing Street memo would bolster these
conclusions by shoring up the various secondhand and other sources with
the actual recorded words of "actual decision-makers" who are
discussing the decisions themselves during the months preceding the
war. By insisting on applying an artificially and narrowly legalistic
standard to the Downing Street memo, Kinsley discards as "worthless" a
higher order of historical evidence than has yet been made public. To
reduce serious analysis to a legalistic game in this way impoverishes
the attempt to chronicle the real history of a war in which Americans,
and Iraqis, are still dying. It means, in effect, deliberately
We come by information incrementally, and give it sense by placing
it in a context we have already constructed; that is why Kinsley's
"test" for whether or not the Downing Street memo is "worthless" is so
misguided. Those who do look at the memo's account of the cabinet
meeting with some honesty -- and I urge readers to go to the memo itself; it is barely three pages long and the New York Review of Books
has published it in full  -- will find it confirms a precise
historical narrative of the run-up to the war. It is clearly written
and, notwithstanding the comments of Kinsley and others, unambiguous.
What is most deadening and in the end saddening about Kinsley's
letter and earlier article is the attitude they exemplify toward
history; we see here a deliberate impoverishment, a turning of inquiry
and, at bottom, of curiosity into a dull and sterile game of black and
white, played by rules that fail to reflect what anyone actually
believes. Such rules dovetail perfectly with the grim and gray shutting
down of information elsewhere in the Republic, as evidenced most
prominently by the Republican-controlled Congress, which, having
endorsed a war in the name of destroying weapons that turned out not to
exist, has responded by forbidding any thorough investigation into
precisely how such a strange set of events could come to pass. Kinsley,
like many others in the American press, wants to judge the memo's
"worth" on whether or not it contains, as he says, "documentary proof
that President Bush had firmly decided to go to war against Iraq by
July 2002." As I have written, such "documentary proof" -- if we are
talking about firm and incontrovertible evidence of what was in Mr.
Bush's mind at the time -- is destined to prove elusive; the President
can always claim, all appearances and outward evidence to the contrary,
that he "hadn't made up his mind." And so he has claimed.
The fact is that this is not what is most important about the memo
and about the documents that have accompanied it. What the memo clearly
shows is that the decision to "go to the United Nations" was in large
part a response to the British concern that "the legal case for war"
was "thin," in the words of British Foreign Secretary Jack Straw. In
other words, securing the blessing of the United Nations Security
Council was thought to be the only way to give the war a legal
clothing. It is worth quoting this passage in full, for Straw puts the
matter with admirable concision:
"It seemed clear that Bush had made up his mind to take
military action, even if the timing was not yet decided. But the case
was thin. Saddam was not threatening his neighbours, and his WMD
capability was less than that of Libya, North Korea or Iran. We should
work up a plan for an ultimatum to Saddam to allow back in the UN
weapons inspectors. This would also help with the legal justification
for the use of force."
The original idea of "the UN route," as set out by the foreign
secretary and prime minister, was to issue an ultimatum to Saddam that
he allow into Iraq a new team of UN inspectors and then, when he
refused the ultimatum, to use his refusal as a justification to invade
the country under Security Council mandate. It "would make a big
difference politically and legally," as Prime Minister Tony Blair
observes in the meeting, "if Saddam refused to allow in the UN
inspectors." What the memo made clear, as I wrote, is that "the
inspectors were introduced not as a means to avoid war, as President
Bush repeatedly assured Americans, but as a means to make war
On these matters Mr. Kinsley says nothing, either in his original
article or in his letter, because he is concerned only with a single
question: Does the memo offer "documentary proof that President Bush
had firmly decided to go to war against Iraq by July 2002"? Having
decided that the memo falls short of passing this stern test, he deems
the document "worthless." Like many in the American press, he is so
obsessed with finding the "smoking gun" that he pretty much manages to
miss the point of what is in front of him.
In the event, of course, Saddam Hussein did not, as was hoped,
reject the inspectors out of hand. He admitted them, and President Bush
and Prime Minister Blair found themselves forced to demand their
withdrawal -- against the wishes of the Security Council and before
they had completed their task -- in order to begin the invasion of
Iraq. The UN route, as it turned out, was messy; it meant arguing
publicly with Hans Blix and other UN officials, fighting for and
ultimately failing to secure a second Security Council resolution that
would have blessed an invasion of Iraq, and finally withdrawing the
inspectors when they had examined barely one hundred of the six hundred
or so suspect sites -- leaving the inspections to be concluded only
after the fall of Baghdad, when the American Iraqi Survey Group finally
ascertained what the UN team might have concluded before the war: that
Saddam had destroyed his weapons of mass destruction long before.
Of course, in retrospect, the plot line would have been much
"cleaner" if Saddam had obliged the British and the Americans by
refusing to allow in the inspectors in the first place, as Prime
Minister Tony Blair had hoped he would. President Bush had clearly
hoped the same thing; indeed, in absent moments, he apparently goes on
hoping it. Several months after the fall of Baghdad, sitting beside UN
Secretary General Kofi Annan in the Oval Office, the President offered this version of his pre-war policy toward Saddam Hussein:
"We gave him a chance to allow the inspectors in, and
he wouldn't let them in. And, therefore, after a reasonable request, we
decided to remove him from power."
It seems unlikely that President Bush had failed to notice that Saddam
had admitted the inspectors into his country. More plausibly, the
President is simply making a slip of the tongue of the sort anyone
could make -- a slip prompted by a bit of wish fulfillment, with the
President substituting what he and Tony Blair had wished would happen
for what actually, in the event, did happen.
History is rich in this sort of thing, of course; understanding
"what actually happened" is an ongoing task, demanding a constant
reformulation of what we believe based on what we know. What is most
dispiriting about the reception of the Downing Street memo and the
other documents associated with it is the general willingness of
reporters and commentators in this country to perform a complicated and
willful act of shutting down their own minds and obliterating their own
curiosity. Michael Smith, the London Times reporter, described the strange attitude of his American colleagues:
"There was a feeling of, 'Well, we said that way back
when.' Then of course as the pressure mounted from the outside, there
was a defensive attitude. 'We have said this before, if you the reader
didn't listen, well, what can we do.' ...[But] it is one thing for the
New York Times or the Washington Post to say that we were being told
that the intelligence was being fixed by sources inside the CIA or
Pentagon or the NSC and quite another to have documentary confirmation
in the form of the minutes of a key meeting with the Prime Minister's
office. ...This was the equivalent of an NSC meeting.... They say the
evidence against Saddam Hussein is thin, the Brits think regime change
is illegal under international law so we are going to have to go to the
UN to get an ultimatum, not as a way of averting war but as an excuse
to make the war legal.... Not reportable, are you kidding me?"
A good deal of this "defensive attitude," certainly, as Smith implies,
derives from the shortcomings of American reporting during the run-up
to the war, when newspapers and broadcast stations
showed very little skepticism about administration claims of Saddam's
supposedly threatening arsenal of weapons of mass destruction.
Though in the months since, the country's most influential newspapers,
including the New York Times and the Washington Post, in
an unprecedented step, have explicitly apologized for their pre-war
reporting, it is less clear that individual reporters feel that they
made any mistakes, and many bristle at any implication that they did.
The Downing Street memo serves, among other things, as a not very
subtle reminder that much of the press was duped by the government in a
rather premeditated and quite successful way. No one likes to be
reminded of this, certainly not reporters and the institutions they
work for; claiming the memo is "not reportable," in Smith's words, not
only avoids revisiting a painful passage in American journalism but
does so by asserting that the story "had already been covered" -- that
is, that it had never been missed in the first place. When it comes to
the war, much of American journalism has little more institutional
interest in reexamining the past than the Bush administration itself.
We must be grateful that the American polity is broader and more
complex than the American press. Kinsley claims that the Downing Street
memo "will not persuade anyone who is not already persuaded. That
doesn't make it wrong. But it does make the memo fairly worthless." But
it is Kinsley who is quite demonstrably wrong on this question. Whether
or not the memo will "persuade anyone who is not already persuaded" is
of course an empirical question and I know myself a number of people
who have been so persuaded. And the fact that more than half of all Americans
now believe the President and his administration intentionally "misled
the American public before the war" seems a rather strong suggestion
that, as a matter of persuasion and of politics, the Downing Street
memo is very far from worthless.
The number of Americans who hold this view is likely to continue to
grow. These are simply people who have begun to notice the widening gap
between what they are told and what they see -- a gap that, when it
comes to the Iraq war, is becoming harder and harder to ignore. I would
not call these people, in Kinsley's phrase, "Downing Street memo
enthusiasts." Better to adopt a denigrating phrase from a Bush
administration adviser and dub them members of the "reality-based community."
Their ranks are growing, and it may be that in the coming days some in
the press will leave off the increasingly hard work of avoiding recent
history and come and join them.
1. See the Washington Post, June 12, 2005.
2. See my article, "The Secret Way to War," The New York Review, June 9, 2005.
3. In an interview with Gwen Ifill on the NewsHour with Jim Lehrer, June 7, 2005.
4. See "The Downing Street Memo," the Washington Post, June 16, 2005; interview with Michael Smith, Washington Post online.
5. For example, the Commission on the Intelligence Capabilities of
the United States Regarding Weapons of Mass Destruction, commonly known
as the Robb-Silberman Commission, notes that the executive order which
established it "did not authorize us to investigate how policymakers
used the intelligence they received from the Intelligence Community on
Iraq's weapons programs." This prohibition, also included in the
Republican-controlled Senate Intelligence Committee's report, derived,
as the Times
remarked on the report's release, "from the mandate [the President]
gave it more than a year ago, when the White House feared the issue
could affect the election." See Scott Shane and David Sanger, "Bush
Panel Finds Big Flaws Remain in US Spy Efforts," the New York Times, April 1, 2005.
6. See, for publicly available documents, the excellent early report,
"WMD in Iraq: Evidence and Implications" (Carnegie Endowment for
International Peace, 2003), and also John Prados, Hoodwinked: The Documents That Reveal How Bush Sold Us a War (New Press, 2004).
7. Even the Robb-Silberman report notes, in the words of an
unidentified national intelligence officer, "a 'zeitgeist' or general
'climate' of policymaker focus on Iraq's WMD that permeated the
analytical atmosphere" and "was formed in part, the NIO claimed, by the
gathering conviction among analysts that war with Iraq was
inevitable...." Elsewhere the commissioners conceded that "it is hard
to deny the conclusion that intelligence analysts worked in an
environment that did
not encourage skepticism about the conventional wisdom." See the Report of the Commission on the Intelligence Capabilities of the United States Regarding Weapons of Mass Destruction, pp. 190 and 11.
8. The text can also be found widely online, including at downingstreetmemo.com.
9. See "President Reaffirms Strong Position on Liberia," July 14, 2003, available at the White House Web site.
10. See Michael Massing, "Now They Tell Us," the New York Review, February 26, 2004.
11. The exact number is 52 percent, an increase of nine points in three
months. See The Washington Post/ABC poll, and the report by Richard
Morin and Dan Balz, "Survey Finds Most Support Staying in Iraq," the Washington Post, June 28, 2005.
12. See Ron Suskind, "Without a Doubt," the New York Times Magazine, October 17, 2004.
Mark Danner, a longtime New Yorker Staff writer and frequent
contributor to the New York Review of Books, is Professor of Journalism
at the University of California at Berkeley and Henry R. Luce Professor
at Bard College. His most recent book is Torture and Truth: America, Abu Ghraib, and the War on Terror, which collects his pieces on torture and Iraq that first appeared in the New York Review of Books. His work can be found at markdanner.com
This exchange will appear in the August 11 issue of the New York Review of Books
Copyright 2005 Mark Danner