Afghanistan

Eureka! Here comes Eurekaism!

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Why is it news when Dean Singleton competes in Eureka, but not news when he works to destroy daily newspaper competition in the Bay Area?
By Bruce B. Brugmann (B3)

In my first journalism class at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln in the fall of l953, Professor Nathan Blumberg laid out the useful concept of Afghanistanism. This means, he said with gusto, that the press covers the big story in Afghanistan (obviously, times have changed) instead of covering the big local scandal in their own city (obviously, as I am reporting, times have not changed on this score). He spent the rest of the semester outlining local scandals that the local press in many cities was censoring or trivializing. He ended the semester with a rousing rendition of Upton Sinclair’s “The Brass Check,” his bible of the pattern of Afghanistanism in many American newspapers.

To bring the concept up to date, let us take the Sunday Aug. l3 story in the Sunday Magazine of the San Francisco Chronicle click here. It was a long, detailed, colorful story with lots of photos titled “RUMBLE IN THE REDWOODS, What happens when two daily newspapers duke it out in a market known more for its weed than its writing?” It details, way way up in the redwoods, out there by the ocean, up by the Oregon border, a long long way north of San Francisco, that rare example of head-to-head daily newspaper competition. A Dean Singleton/MediaNews group daily (the Eureka Times-Standard) is being forced to compete ferociously with a new upstart daily (the Eureka Reporter) founded by a local financier/tax attorney/banker called Robin P. Arkley II The lead sums up the point of the story: “It is the unlikeliest retail war in the unlikeliest market, a high-stakes game of chicken in a place so offbeat, it is now the setting for a new Sci-Fi Channel show.”

Just as in the old days when there was real daily competition in San Francisco, the publishers and editors and staff take public shots at each other. Arkley is quoted as saying that “I get tired of the Times-Standard saying ‘Rob is trying to put us out of business.’ I mean (the Times Standard and parent Media News) are a monopoly in every market they are in, whining like a bunch of babies…The first lick of competition they get they scream like they are getting (screwed)…They are not having any fun.”

Arkley says he launched the Reporter out of a desire for more local news. “I noticed over the generations the Times-Standard to the ‘Sub-Standard’ to the ‘Daily Disappointment.’ It was not publishing local news…Part of the challenge for local communities today is to keep our local identities. And one of the easiest and most direct ways to do that is with our local newspapers. I felt we needed a local paper again.”

Arkley says he no longer reads the Times-Standard but Singleton says he reads the Reporter, which he derisively calls “a shopper” because it is delivered free to people’s homes. “I watch (the Reporter carefully,” Singleton says in his Rocky Mountain twang (his company is based in Denver). “But when you get right down to it, it is not really a quality newspaper…I think it makes (Arkley) think he is a big man in town. I am not sure buying a printing press and throwing papers around makes you a big man in town, but he thinks it does.”

In short, Joel Davis, a former Times-Standard entertainment and news editor from l988 to l995 and now a Sacramento journalist and college journalism instructor, wrote a nice yarn that inadvertently made a most telling point on the state of journalism in California and the country today.

For Hearst in San Francisco, which finally got what it always wanted in San Francisco (a virtual morning daily monopoly), and for Singleton, who hates competition with a passion and now is moving lockstep with Hearst toward regional monopoly, old-fashioned daily newspaper competition is a slam bang big story—but only if it is up in Eureka. The real story, how Hearst and Singleton are destroying daily competition and imposing even more conservative monopoly journalism on one of the most liberal and civilized regions of the world, is not much of a story at all. It is only a story to be minimized, marginalized, censored, covered in fragments, and buried deep in the business section (See our coverage and our blogs)

The latest example: in Tuesday’s Chronicle, buried on page 2 of the business section, was a “Daily Digest” short under a wimpy little head titled “Foundation among MediaNews backers.” It was an Associated Press story out of Seattle which provided a nugget of new information from an Aug. 8th Securities and Exchange filing. The nugget: that the Bill @ Melinda Gates Foundation had invested an unspecified amount of money in the megaconglomerate deal.

The news was three weeks old. It was published a week after the Contra Costa times ran it. I did a blog on it a week ago. It was written by the Associated Press out of Seattle, not a Chronicle cityside reporter or one of the legion of Chronicle business reporters. The four paragraph story once again amounted to only a fragment of an item that begged for a real comprehensive story. Not once has the Chronicle or any of the papers involved in the deal (Hearst/Singleton/Gannett/Stephens/McClatchy) done the kind of full and complete story, on this unprecedented major local story, and its adverse consequences to their local communities, that they would have done on anybody else. Not once to my knowledge have any of the monopoly publishers or their editors or columnists had a cross word to say publicly about the others or about the march to regional monopoly.
Why?

Eureka! Here comes Eurekaism! B3

P.S.: One thing I like about Dean Singleton is that, when a reporter calls him for a quote, he is not afraid to give him some juicy ones.

P.S. l: Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps one of the megaconglomerators has done a real story on the real consequences of such consolidation and regional monopoly on their staffs, the health and welfare of their communities, and the competing voices concept underlying the First Amendment and all good journalism. So I will be announcing a blog game: LET’S PLAY EUREKA! And I will ask people to send me any articles or editorials or columns in any of the megaconglomerate papers that they think laid out the real story. B3

Torture Inc.

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> a&eletters@sfbg.com

The Road to Guantánamo is the true story of three British citizens who were held without charges for two years at the American detention camps in Guantánamo Bay. Director Michael Winterbottom’s film combines documentary with dramatization in a way that is slightly confusing in the beginning, as we quickly cut between the men who were actually detained (Shafiq Rasul, Asif Iqbal, and Rhuhel Ahmed) and the actors who play them (Rizwan Ahmed, Arfan Usman, and Farhud Harun). The performances are first-rate, however, and the illusion of reality is created with harrowing enough detail that the gap between reportage and acting, or between documentary footage and reenactment, quickly seems irrelevant.
The worst thing a film like this can do is leave its audience feeling manipulated into believing something it was inclined to believe anyway. But The Road to Guantánamo consistently lets the story do its own work, and dumps us into the basic situation without too much backstory; it doesn’t make its protagonists overly heroic, paste any love stories over the narrative, or overwhelm its audience with music that tells us what we should be feeling.
For a film loaded with war casualties and torture, it’s disarmingly entertaining. What begins as a buddy-flick road movie quickly becomes a journey into hell. Three friends leave Britain for Pakistan, where a bride is waiting for one of them. A naive side trip to Afghanistan, just as the US bombing is getting under way, quickly carries them beyond the typical budget travel annoyances of gastrointestinal illness and makeshift restrooms and into a war-torn landscape full of the mutilated citizens of a country being indiscriminately bombed. Their final circle, however, is that abyss located both at the center of the American psyche and in Cuba. Rounded up with a batch of suspected Taliban fighters, our heroes come face-to-face with the Bush administration’s love affair with torture, humiliation, and endless detention without charge.
“Where’s Osama bin Laden?” the American interrogators ask their clueless victims, a question so ridiculous it is comic. The Americans are so perfectly American and so perfectly piggy that it’s easy to forget these scenes are being acted. Even in other recent films that package their torture as political critique, like Syriana and V for Vendetta, the subjects and objects of the verb “to torture” have been muddled; we’ve watched only white Americans and Brits enduring the worst, at the hands of Muslims, cartoon characters, or — in movies like Hostel, in which the torture is pure entertainment — East European whores and Germanic S-M fags. As in dreams, audiences probably understand that the roles are confused, and that Americans should actually be the ones wielding the clubs and attack dogs. Finally, however, we’ve been presented with a more accurate grammar: The Americans and British are torturing and the Muslims are tortured. For that reason alone, The Road to Guantánamo is an important and necessary film. SFBG
THE ROAD TO GUANT

New Wests

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› jksfbg@aol.com

California is a tragic country like Palestine, like every Promised Land.

Christopher Isherwood

FREQUENCIES Last Monday, President Bush ordered 6,000 National Guard troops to join the 12,000 federal Border Patrol agents already stationed along the US-Mexico border. Then, moments later, in a deft now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t Oval Office magic trick, he acted as if it hadn’t happened. "[The United States] is not going to militarize the southern border," he told the press about the military troops he had just assigned to the southern border. "Mexico is our neighbor and our friend."

Forget that the Border Patrol is already the nation’s largest federal law enforcement agency. Forget that the border has been militarized since at least 1992, when the Navy was brought to Southern California to replace chain-link fences with corrugated steel sheeting recycled from the Vietnam War. Forget that the 1994 fence that ran out into the sea from Imperial Beach was made of old landing strips from the first Persian Gulf War. Forget that 1994’s Operation Gatekeeper turned the canyons and gulches at the southern edge of California into a battle zone of klieg lighting, infrared scopes, underground sensors, and digital fingerprinting systems. Forget that since 1995, the Border Research and Technology Center in San Diego has been developing "correctional security" devices in tandem with the US prison system.

This was all just flimsy history next to the real denial that came two days later when it was announced that the nonmilitarization plan was accepting bids from leading military contractors like Lockheed Martin, Boeing, and Northrop Grumman, all of whom have been active in Iraq and Afghanistan. So while the National Guard may not be armed (but may be, as SNL recently joked, sipping Coronas in celebration of being anywhere but Iraq), chances are good there will be radar balloons and surveillance planes. Throw in a few crackpot Minutemen brigades and we’ll be looking at the biggest domestic battalion ever assembled against a nonexistent international enemy.

After all, Mexicans come north not out of aggression or zealotry or the need for oil, but out of hope, the same hope that once fueled earlier westward migrations of Oakies and Anglos to the same plots of land. In the era of free trade, the North is the new West, or as Dave Alvin suggests in the title of his new album of California cover songs, West of the West (Yep Roc), a still emergent republic of dreams that hasn’t found a stable map.

Alvin was born in Downey, outside of Los Angeles, and he’s always been a firmly Californian songwriter. For all his working-class allegiance to the "California Dreaming" school the factories, manual labor, toxic suburbs, and cement rivers of his songs never crush his epic sense of western romance Alvin has always seemed to understand Mexican California. He’s written about Mexican farmworkers and barmaids, and most presciently, he wrote "California Snow" with El PasoJu?

Army of glum

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ANY GIVEN FIVE minutes of Battlefield 2 (Electronic Arts) play can resemble the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan. You’re riding in an amphibious tank with your squad across enemy waters. Rumbles from explosions start getting louder and closer. Stray bullets hit the tank’s armor and the water outside. Suddenly you’re on land, the tank stops, and your squad leader yells, "Move!" over your headset. You jump out into utter chaos, bullets flying everywhere, your teammates falling around you. You run for cover as a stray grenade explosion blurs your vision and rings in your ears. With a giant whoosh, a support bomber passes overhead and takes out some enemy tanks. You blitz the checkpoint, trying to pick off remaining defenders and hoping you didn’t miss anyone in the huts that you’re sprinting past.

One of the most realistic war-themed action games ever made, rivaled only by its predecessors, Battlefield 1942 (EA) and Battlefield Vietnam (EA), BF2 is rightfully one of the most popular action games in the country today. It seamlessly integrates land, sea, and air vehicles into lush, photo-realistic maps where trees shake from the force of chopper propellers and snipers hide in swaying blades of grass. And the game play is just as slick as the graphics, allowing you to coordinate complicated team strategies through a simple command system and speak with your squad mates if you have a mic with your computer. The most dynamic part of the game stresses teamwork. Because of its massive strategic depth, if you want to accomplish anything other than annoying people online, you’ll have to work with your team to capture checkpoints and win matches – a feat never quite achieved on this level by other games.

This is the game I dreamed of when I was a kid playing Rogue Spear and Counter-Strike, diet versions of this action-packed feast. But that was before the current ridiculous war and all the oh-my-god footage coming back on television and in films like Fahrenheit 9/11 and Gunner Palace. As the previous games in the series did with WWII and Vietnam, BF2 trivializes the trauma of our current war in Iraq – and a possible future war with China – by making it into entertainment.

The game claims to sidestep politics by presenting a fictional conflict between a hypothetical Middle East Coalition (MEC), China, and the US Marines. The MEC and China switch off battling an invasive United States for strategic checkpoints that your team must camp at for a certain amount of time to gain control of. From the opening cutscene that plays like an action movie with all its destruction-glorifying grandeur, it’s clear that only a nation-player with the will to achieve total military dominance over other countries – and a complete ignorance of the ramifications for the people in those conquered countries – could take pleasure in acting out these scenarios. I’m glad most gamers playing BF2 probably don’t have firsthand experience with military oppression, but games such as this present a disconnect between reality and fantasy that contributes to the acceptance of US military actions.

After 9/11 and the subsequent wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, it’s safe to say that we’ve ceased to live in a bubble. Yet, although BF2 is just a game, its release at a time when 30 percent of soldiers returning from Iraq are reporting mental health issues stemming from the horrors they’ve witnessed, is a sign that our entertainment-industrial complex has shirked its responsibility by uncritically celebrating a very complicated issue, however inadvertently.

The problem is that the premise for war games acts as its own excuse. Nina Huntemann, director of the 2000 film Game Over: Gender, Race and Violence in Video Games, describes how some military games rely on the narrative of neutralizing a terrorist threat without questioning what makes someone a "terrorist" or why we should "neutralize" them. Though BF2 includes little narrative, the idea that there could possibly be a military conflict between the Middle East, China, and the United States is so obvious and predetermined that none of these types of questions even come to mind.

I don’t fault Digital Illusions, BF2’s developer: It’s difficult to sell sensitivity, but it’s easy to sell explosions. I blame a general immersion in entertainment that is predicated on the lie that fantasy is divorced from reality. The fantasy that we are removed from the war in Iraq is one of the things that allows the reality of it to continue.

Video games haven’t just become more like war – war has become like video games. I’ll never forget the moment in Fahrenheit 9/11 when a kid talks about how he listens to the Bloodhound Gang while he sits in his tank and shoots at people. That sounds a lot like what you do in BF2. The war in Iraq is at least partly being fought by kids whose first ideas of war were shaped by video game simulations before they experienced the reality. Like the tactics of dehumanizing the enemy to ease the ethical hang-ups involved in killing them, this extra layer of detachment enables kids to reconcile participating in potentially traumatic events.

Even the US Army actively tries to sell war as a video game. Recently I’ve caught Army recruitment commercials of guys working at computers and coordinating attacks from the comfort of a tent, perpetuating the idea that war can be fought on a flat screen without real-world messiness. Naturally, BF2’s commander screen, on which you can zoom in on different parts of the map and order squad movements or artillery strikes, looks a lot like the graphics flying around an Army commercial.

The Army also invested more than $6 million in a g ame called America’s Army, which it released for free over the Internet in August 2002, less than a year after 9/11 and seven months before war was declared on Iraq. Possibly one of the most sinister forms of propaganda to fly under the media’s radar, America’s Army essentially indoctrinates players into military life through a graphically advanced action game. Openly billed as a recrui tment tool, the game has players make their way through virtual boot camp and then move on to military operations.

Of course, games have always revolved around war and violence, from dodgeball to capture the flag. War is about strategy, problem-solving, and competition, just like most video games. Its popularity as a theme for video games is no surprise, just as it’s no surprise the Army wants to tap into that recruiting pool. These games aren’t desensitizing kids to real violence or instilling them with a lust for it. But the games’ latent values feed an unquestioning acceptance of the United States’ current militarism and normalize it for future generations. I don’t know if we – or the world – can afford another detached generation. Until we find a way to give kids, and, for that matter, adults, a real context for the fantasies provided by the entertainment industry, the enabling disconnect will continue.