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July
9, 2003
They Do Their Job
& You Don't See the Mess
The
Worst Kind of Lie
By JOHN CHUCKMAN
A few years sometimes make a big difference in
human affairs. A few years ago an American President was put
through the 18th century ordeal of impeachment, a vast, expensively-staged
comic opera of white manes waving and grave baritones intoning,
over a dribble on a dress and the lie he told to save himself
embarrassment. Today we have a President who has hurled the world
into two dirty, pointless wars after what undoubtedly qualifies
as the longest sequence of public lies ever uttered in a free
society, and yet in his homeland he remains popular and is collecting
enough campaign cash to rival the Swiss bank balances of the
Russian Mafia.
Leaders have always lied in times of
war and when maneuvering for advantage in international affairs,
American presidents, despite puffed-up claims to different moral
standards, no less so than others. Usually the lies they tell
are not understood until years later. The lies then often seem
to become small, unimportant details in a history of big events.
But Bush has lied daily, doing it so awkwardly at times that
you might think everyone is aware of it, and it seems to make
no difference to his political standing.
What will Bush do with all the cash he
is hoarding for the next campaign? He will use it to practice
the worst lying possible in a democratic society, lying that
subverts the intent of democracy, replacing meaningful debate
by the suggestions, half-truths, and staged images of advertising
and marketing. Perhaps, I should correct that to the second-worst
lying possible in a democratic society, for Bush, of course,
entered office with the worst lying, claiming to have won an
election he lost by any sensible reckoning.
Why are Americans not distressed at this?
Because they live in an intense field, an electromagnetic haze,
of marketing, advertising, and commercial propaganda twenty-four
hours a day. Americans are so saturated with this stuff that
they regard it as normal communication.
But it is not normal. It is deliberate
and manipulative. At its very best, advertising is only ever
half truth, telling a few favorable aspects of something that
deserves greater scrutiny. At its worst, it is simply artful
fraud and deception. But in no case is it truth or, perhaps better
put since truth is a large and difficult idea, honest communication.
Advertising, like its fraternal twin, propaganda, always has
a purpose other than helping you understand something. This other
purpose is its raison d'etre. Advertising wants to separate you
from your money or, in the case of politics, from your vote.
I've often chuckled over the way Americans
used to get so upset over the idea of Communist propaganda. While
Americans decried that propaganda, they themselves lived in a
dense fog of advertising and propaganda. Only the American stuff
isn't quite so obvious as the ponderous old Soviet stuff, at
least to anyone immersed in it. It is far more artful and effective.
That friendly well-known face on TV is speaking to me, being
a friend to me in my isolation and loneliness, cares about me,
why he's even recommending something good for me. What a nice
man.
In America, wave on wave of these smiling
frauds sell floor mops, breath mints, female hygiene, Christ,
cancer treatment, hamburgers, and presidential candidates.
An interesting story from Maine, a place
that prides itself on tourist billboards as having "Life
the way it should be," shows, in another sphere of life,
how people, responding to the intense environment of advertising
and marketing, sometimes act with no examination of their actions.
An otherwise very nice person was vigorously preaching one day
some years ago to an associate at work about his not using a
paper-recycling container in his office, an oversight that may
have involved a few dozen sheets of paper in a week.
Now this "environmentally-concerned"
preacher with her spouse had just built a large, brand-new house,
a five-bedroom monster for two people with no children. And where
did they build it? On the fringes of a suburban area that was
already suffering from exactly the kind of hopeless sprawl afflicting
every other part of the United States where life is not advertised
as being "the way it should be." They built on a one-acre
site along a tiny road on the edge of a forest. And how were
they getting to work? Why, each drove his and her own gasoline-wasting,
road-wasting, polluting SUV.
An acre of land, of course, required
a large, polluting rider-mower just to keep the grass clipped.
Their long driveway required lots of private plowing in the winter.
The small road leading to it required the sprawled-out town to
plow regularly for the benefit of a fairly small number of people.
So too for garbage pick-up, and indeed for every other public
service. And five bedrooms use a lot of heating oil and a lot
of air-conditioning. If these people ever do have children, they
will require bus service along thinly-populated roads.
But in their minds they are doing nothing
irresponsible. It is that fellow at work who refuses to use a
re-cycling box that is irresponsible. Of course the amount of
environmental stress and strain caused by their choices is at
least a hundred thousand times greater than that caused by the
man without the box, but no real analysis takes place here. They
are immersed in suggestions of their lifestyle having an almost
quasi-sacred character to it, being fulfillment of that unexamined
advertising slogan, "the American dream," and they
equally are immersed in suggestions that things like recycling
boxes in every office are very good things indeed.
I said this example was from another
sphere of life, but really it isn't. The energy to do all the
things necessary to support their sprawl-lifestyle, multiplied
by tens of millions of other Americans just like them, has to
come from somewhere. Like Iraq or Iran or Saudi Arabia. Pick
your troubled part of the world and add the cost of America's
belligerent policies to keep it in line. But Americans rarely
see the results of these abhorrent policies, the mutilated children,
for instance, of Iraq.
And the immense pollution generated by
this lifestyle has to go somewhere, but who cares just so long
as you don't see it piled up on your front lawn? It all gets
taken away, to dumps, somewhere. And the smoke from the power
generators? Well, they don't build those in areas like this.
The green-house gases from burning all that gasoline and fuel
oil and diesel truck fuel? The wind takes it off somewhere. The
road salt. The insecticide. The weed killer. Well, they do their
job and you don't see the mess.
And that is the answer that explains
America's system of paid political lies: it does its job and
you don't see the mess, at least if you are not looking, and
most Americans aren't looking.
John Chuckman
lives in Canada. He can be reached at: chuckman@counterpunch.org.
Weekend
Edition Features
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Frederick
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Martha
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Bush and Africa: Racism, Exploitation
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Lenni Brenner
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Elaine
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Wayne
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Happy Birthday, America! 227 Years of War
Jim
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Bush's Surreal AIDS Appointment
John Blair
Return to Marble Hill: Indiana's Rusting Nuke
Lisa
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Heavy Reckoning at Qaim
David Vest
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Adam
Engel
Queer as Grass
Poets'
Basement
Christian, Witherup, Albert & St. Clair
Website
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