Sound and Fury

By TAD BARTIMUS

I have a migraine. My heart is pounding. I am worn out from watching the war. I think we all are.

Lost in 24/7 sensory overload, the only things we know for sure about the ultimate TV reality show is that people in Iraq are suffering and dying. We must guess at the coherence of everything else happening on multiple fronts.

Images bombard us faster than the latest video game: Marines are firing through the green haze of night vision goggles; jets explode from the pitching decks of aircraft carriers; cruise missiles whiz past soldiers dug in behind dunes; Iraqi men in civilian clothes kneel in the sand with their hands behind their heads.

If truth is the first casualty of war, context is the second. Military briefers appear unplugged from the action as they respond with, "I have no knowledge of that, I'll have to get back to you."

In Baghdad, with fires burning in all directions, correspondents find it impossible to explain what's been hit because they can see only what's in front of them. In the desert, racing ahead with tank crews or flying on A-10 bombing missions, journalists give details only from their narrow perspective.

There are more frontline correspondents covering this war than any other in history. The good news/bad news of all these "embeds" is that their instantaneous satellites, digital cameras and videophones have turned us into headline junkies. We're afraid to go to the bathroom in case we miss the mother-of-all-battles between the 101st Airborne and the Republican Guard, or the latest word about our POWs.

This real-time reporting is simultaneously thrilling and terrible, a live war in our living rooms that leaves us both fascinated and horrified by what we see and hear. Wives and husbands of soldiers say they are glued to their television sets, hopeful yet fearful of seeing their loved one on the screen. When bulletins tell viewers this platoon or that regiment is under enemy fire and suffering casualties, the agony of waiting for details is felt by all of us, but most acutely among the families of men and women serving with those units. Is it their loved one who's been killed? It's always someone's.

Most reporters and cameramen traveling with the troops have distinguished themselves, particularly by putting a human face on American, British and Australian soldiers doing the dirty work. The exceptions are Peter Arnett and Geraldo Rivera. Arnett foolishly espoused his personal views during an interview for Iraqi television and was rightly fired by MSNBC and National Geographic Explorer for doing so. Fox News' Rivera behaves like a buffoon at every opportunity.

Less exemplary is the press corps's reporting on civilians, who are constantly and irritatingly referred to as "collateral damage" instead of as human beings (all jargon and acronyms should be outlawed in all dispatches). They should also shut up about being sleep-deprived, unwashed and hungry -- nobody cares.

What this war needs is a good editor. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld tried to be one but his voice got drowned out by Gen. Tommy Franks in Qatar, spokeswoman Victoria Clarke at the Pentagon, President Bush on the road, various briefers in Kuwait, Press Secretary Ari Fleischer at the White House, and every soldier with a microphone thrust in his face.

As we wade through this barrage of information, it's good to remember the words of William Shakespeare, for it seems that these war briefings and reports, like life, are often full of tales "Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury / Signifying nothing."

As I take aspirin for my migraine, I'm also pushing the MUTE button.

© 2003 The Women Syndicate

Send your own great stories – 300 words or less – to friends@tadbartimus.com or write c/o The Women Syndicate, P.O. Box 728, Puunene, Hawaii 96784. Thanks for sharin

© 2003 The Women Syndicate. The content on these pages is the property of The Women Syndicate and may not be used without express written permission. Contact friends@tadbartimus.com