The War, As Seen From Mexico

Pictures of bombed out Iraqi cities, wounded and killed Iraqi soldiers and civilians have been appearing daily in the newspapers here in Mexico. They make a stark contrast to the sanitized reality being pushed by the mainstream corporate U.S. media. As we, and our fellow expatriates, consume the sparkling clean, upbeat, tame coverage on our television screens, fed by cable and satellite communications from CBS, ABC and CNN, our neighbors are watching Televisa and reading La Jornada and Reforma, whose offerings belie the propaganda that our so-called free press puts out from its “safe” positions in army units selected for them by the military intelligence strategists, and from hotels to which they are confined by the Iraqi government.

An image from a Televisa report on the
first night of air strikes

This is not to say that the Mexican press corps is not by and large compromised by government and moneyed interests, or by fear for their lives. Televisa, for example, is notorious for its slavish observation of the government line. The biggest difference is that in Mexico, everyone knows that the press is, for the most part, corrupt. Unlike in the United States, there is no pretence that the press is “free,” or objective. In Mexico, it is common knowledge that the government pays newspapers to print ministry handouts as if they are news. Without such payments, most papers would fold tomorrow. In Mexico, reporters who seriously offend government officials, or the big industrialists or narcotics traffickers who control them, end up kidnapped, tortured or dead with an alarming regularity. In Mexico, a few large conglomerates control most of the radio, television and print media outlets, and “news” is what the bosses dictate.

Before we get too congratulatory about how much better we are than them, we might want to examine our own situation. In the United States, since changes made in the laws governing media acquisitions in 1997, and escalating since our current President was non-elected in 2000, a few highly reactionary media companies have come to dominate the radio waves. The largest, Clear Channel Communications, with over 1,200 stations nationwide, has a board with close ties to both Dubya and people working at the regulatory agencies. At this writing, they are organizing pro-war rallies all over the country, and holding public cassette and CD destruction sessions of materials produced by antiwar performers such as the Dixie Chicks.

In the United States, reporters regularly suppress news that would embarrass the agencies they cover in exchange for continued “access.” Stories unfavorable to corporate advertisers are routinely killed or significantly altered by editors and publishers. Reporters who dare to go to the Internet to reveal censored stories are forced out of their jobs. Challenges to source confidentiality are being mounted under provisions of various “homeland security” laws.

Mexicans, 80 percent of whom oppose the Iraqi invasion (why do we insist on calling it a war?), were shocked when Michael Moore gave his acceptance speech at the Academy Awards: Mexicans watch a lot of U.S. movies, with subtitles, and are very knowledgeable about our cinema workers. This year, with several awards in the offing for films made in or about Mexico, viewership was particularly heavy. The next day, I got into several conversations about it.

What surprised them most was that an antigun, antiwar film would be chosen in the first place: they think of the United States as a violent, dangerous place where armed crazies go berserk with a disturbing regularity. Sure, Mexican police use their arms to rob banks, often killing in the process. Sure, Mexicans kill each other for revenge, property and passion. But just walk into your office or school and start spraying bullets? That, hermano, is strictly a gringo thing ... Gringos love their guns, no?

Michael Moore was booed during his reception speech, they figured, because he made the audience feel uncomfortable. They didn’t want to really confront the stupidity and venality of the Iraqi invasion. Even though many of them were wearing “peace” pins, and even the great Spanish director Almodovar and the young Mexican star also spoke for peace in their speeches. The Hollywood people wanted to keep things polite, they figure, even in the midst of the slaughter in Iraq, and even though they are generally opposed to it.

In most of the countries of the world, including Mexico, I was told, artists—creative people—are expected to criticize the status quo, both in their work and in their politics. No such ceremony would be held in Mexico without ample denunciation of whatever antisocial machinations the government might be up to at the time. A good example was the press conferences held by major cultural figures during the unsuccessful attempt to secure limited autonomy for the indigenous peoples in Chiapas and elsewhere in Mexico.

I asked where they thought the U.S. was going with this “war.” They had various scenarios to offer, each one more depressing than the last. “If it is about oil, and it seems to be,” said one, “then how long will it be before they come for us?”

Stan Gotlieb lives in Oaxaca, Mexico, and maintains a Web site, http://www.realoaxaca.com. His e-mail address is stan@realoaxaca.com