Media Coverage: Help Or Hinderance In Conflict Prevention By Nik Gowing Carnegie Corporation of New York established the Carnegie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflict in May 1994 to address the looming threats to world peace of intergroup violence and to advance new ideas for the prevention and resolution of deadly conflict. The Commission is examining the principal causes of deadly ethnic, nationalist, and religious conflicts within and between states and the circumstances that foster or deter their outbreak. Taking a long-term, worldwide view of violent conflicts that are likely to emerge, the Commission seeks to determine the functional requirements of an effective system for preventing mass violence and to identify the ways in which such a system could be implemented. The Commission is also looking at the strengths and weaknesses of various international entities in conflict prevention and considering ways in which international organizations might contribute toward developing an effective international system of nonviolent problem solving. Commission publications fall into three categories: Reports of the Commission, Reports to the Commission, and Discussion Papers. Reports of the Commission have been endorsed by all Commissioners. Reports to the Commission are published as a service to scholars, practitioners, and the interested public. They have undergone peer review, but the views that they express are those of the author or authors, and Commission publication does not imply that those views are shared by the Commission as a whole or by individual Commissioners. Discussion papers are similar to Reports to the Commission but address issues that are more time-sensitive in nature. Additional copies of this report may be obtained free of charge from the Commission's headquarters: Carnegie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflict 1779 Massachusetts Avenue, NW Suite 715 Washington, DC 20036-2103 Phone: (202) 332-7900 Fax: (202) 332-1919 e-mail: [email protected] Copyright 1997 by Carnegie Corporation of New York. All rights reserved. Acknowledgments I am grateful to many in diplomacy, government, the media, the military, and NGOs for sparing the time to discuss -- often at great length -- their experiences in conflict management. Their patience and enlightenment -- often during moments of intense pressure of conflict -- helped contribute to the conclusions of this study. Most asked not to be identified. Despite the inevitable wish of readers to discover the source of some observations by way of endnotes, I have been happy to honour the commitments of anonymity that I made to those who helped clarify my perceptions. I am honoured that under the direction of cochairs David Hamburg and Cyrus Vance, the Carnegie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflict was moved to recognise this issue of the media and the information edge in conflict, and invited me to undertake this study. Hitherto, this issue has tended to be ignored in the study of conflict prevention and management. I am grateful to Jane Holl, the Commission's executive director, and Esther Brimmer, senior associate, for their patience and persuasive skills during my research and preparation. They helped to focus thoughts and open new doors for further examination. The patience of Robert Lande, the Commission's managing editor, was also much appreciated. The text as published represents a study undertaken until early fall 1996. The subsequent violent events in Kivu and the Great Lakes of Central Africa through early summer 1997 have raised new and pressing uncertainties in whatever relationship exists between the media and conflict management. I suggest that they require further study as a matter of some urgency. The media's role in the new generation of regional conflict and substate violence1 is ambiguous, unclear, and often misconstrued. Journalists and policymakers alike tend to assume that media coverage has an undefined yet pivotal role in helping conflict management or prevention. Indeed, a role for the media in conflict prevention is routinely assumed at conferences, seminars, and gaming sessions without question or any clear understanding of what that role is. Frequently, there is an undignified rush to judgment. The instinctive assumptions made by policymakers, diplomats, and the military are often wrong. Their instant, superficial analysis of the media's role is usually skewed by the emotion of anecdotal comments as opposed to rigorous analysis. Frequently, the media are blamed both for what does and does not happen. No reasonable person questions the emotive power of vivid, gruesome TV images from a developing conflict. Senior politicians and government figures refer candidly and without reservation to the "something-must-be-done" pressures created by TV, in particular, when it is present. But off-the-cuff, apparently well-informed references to what is widely referred to as the "CNN factor"2 are not always helpful to understanding the precise dynamics of this relationship. Often such references are conspicuously ill-informed and based on false assumptions. Understandable, superficial emotional responses by political leaders who make decisions to engage (or not) in a conflict are not the same as a fundamental political will to act in the national interest. This distinction is crucial. Like many decision makers, former U.S. defence secretary William Perry, for example, confirms the instant power of the CNN factor and the images that pursue him from office to hotel room to home.3 Pressed further, he talks of "digging in my heels" in response. More important, Perry confirms this author's earlier research4 that although vivid media reporting from conflict does provide useful tip-sheet coverage of developments, government officials usually consider most coverage to be trite and crude. Former U.S. State Department spokesman Nicholas Burns has highlighted the resulting dilemma: "The challenge for us in government is to balance the need to feed the beast of television against the more natural and wise human instinct to reflect before speaking."5 It is regrettable, some argue, that more real-time technology and capability to report from the world's zones of conflict have not necessarily been matched by a qualitative improvement in journalism or information flow (however they are measured).6 Instead, the trend is towards superficial, less-than-well-informed reporting, often based on second- or third hand information as opposed to primary data. The growing drift towards comment and opinion journalism is also identified as an obstacle to clear, impartial comprehension of a conflict and its root causes. The picture created by such coverage is not as accurate or reliable as initial emotions might lead one to assume. The emotive effect on public opinion can be profound (though increasingly less so). But despite the conviction of many journalists about the powerful influence that their reporting has on policy,7 ministers and government officials instinctively doubt the veracity of such reporting. In the view of then British foreign secretary Malcolm Rifkind, "In complex conflicts it is difficult within the constraints in which journalists operate to portray a balanced picture which properly represents all the factors in a conflict."8 Rifkind's analysis is correct. Invariably, the reporter on location does not get it quite right. Sometimes such reporting can be downright wrong. For example, the few "facts" that Lindsey Hilsum reported to the BBC from Kigali during the first days of the Rwanda genocide in April 1994 she now accepts -- as any good correspondent should willingly do -- to have "turned out not to be quite true."9 In 1991 the TV images of JNA (Yugoslav National Army) tanks in the former Yugoslavia moving towards Slovenia left the impression of a unilateral offensive by Belgrade. The fact that Slovenia had declared independence from the Yugoslav federation and set up border posts tended to be forgotten as the graphic TV images showed a large JNA military operation advancing towards military engagement. Therefore, rather than acting impulsively, most (though not all) officials treat what they see or read with considerable caution, if not scepticism. They demand further checks and information or intelligence. As Perry confirms: "We know from long experience that the first assessment of what happened is almost always wrong."10 This official scepticism is justified, given the understandably skewed nature of reporting during a developing crisis.11 However, the scepticism can also be deployed by governments as a convenient justification for doing nothing; increasingly this is the case. Hence this author's caution in the opening words of this paper -- that the media's role is ambiguous, unclear, and often misconstrued. This is a crucial corrective to the conventional wisdom that a direct correlation exists between media coverage and political (therefore military) action in conflict prevention and management. Most important, the result is a government decision to commit itself publicly to the appearance of action12 by way of palliative humanitarian operations,13 rather than through a firm political commitment to do everything possible to prevent or end a conflict, using military force if necessary.14 As the controversial five-volume findings of the Committee for Joint Evaluation of Emergency Assistance to Rwanda concluded: "War was the extension of failed diplomatic effort. Humanitarian aid was a substitute for political action in Rwanda."15 Too often a direct cause-and-effect relationship between media coverage and apparent action is assumed. But the absence of national strategic interest, and therefore of political will, is conveniently forgotten and ignored. Signals and actions are often misconstrued. Ministers or government officials signal apparent willingness to engage when essentially the political will and strategy are otherwise. This reality is not helpful if the media reporting seems to create a moral imperative to prevent or halt a conflict. The Rwanda evaluation report was an important exercise. It raised core issues relating to all media coverage of conflict. On Rwanda, it drew this vital conclusion: The international media played a mixed role in the Rwanda crisis. While the media were a major factor in generating worldwide humanitarian relief support for the refugees, distorted reporting on events leading to the genocide itself was a contributing factor to the failure of the international community to take more effective action to stem the genocide.16 The same could be said for every regional conflict. The committee's report also urged the media to learn from their shortcomings. The question now is: Have the media reviewed their errors and improved both their performance and insight in subsequent conflicts? Any judgment is speculative. However, based on the new dynamics of the media business described later in this paper, this author's view is pessimistic. It is, of course, easy to heap blame and/or responsibility on "distorted reporting" by the media. Others are to blame for nonaction. Humanitarian agencies report that too often the governments of developed countries face a proliferation of data and information. The problem frequently is that they are either overloaded or inept at handling it.17 Thus, it is not only the media who could do a better job of analysing the information available. Many a government can be viewed as equally culpable of skewed interpretation, but probably for different reasons. The Media or the Mediator: Which Comes First? Like the misplaced assumptions of the power of the CNN factor in conflict management, most people readily assume that there is, or must be, a direct cause-and-effect relationship between media coverage and the chances for either preventing, preempting, or limiting a conflict. The emotions created by vivid, gruesome TV images add weight to this assumption. Again, the evidence suggests otherwise. Conflicts are now predominantly of a substate and intrastate nature in what are described as "sick state" cases.18 Rarely is there media coverage of a conflict that is about to explode. It is war, and the images of fighting, that catalyses TV coverage, in particular, and not the vaguer possibility of a conflict breaking out at some indefinable moment. When it comes to prevention, media coverage is usually too late to help.19 Overall, there is now a growing body of analysis and research that, like Gowing's work,20 questions the conventional wisdom of a direct cause- and-effect relationship, although more case work needs to be done. Livingston and Eachus, for example, debunk the conventional assumption that emotive TV coverage of the humanitarian disaster in Somalia in late summer and early fall 1992 was pivotal in forcing President Bush to approve a U.S. involvement. "News coverage trends do not support the claim that news attention to Somalia led to the Bush administration's decision to intervene," they conclude.21 If we extrapolate the conclusions of Gowing and those of Livingston and Eachus, then it is reasonable to conclude that on many occasions (though not all), practitioners in the media and diplomacy overestimate the impact of TV images, especially in the realm of conflict management. As Lindsey Hilsum confirmed after reporting whatever she could manage to see of the horrors unfolding in Rwanda in April of 1994: "I couldn't stop the smallest part of it. I am only slowly beginning to understand it. At the time I could only watch and survive."22 Pressure To "Do Something": Media Pressure and the National Interest Ultimately, despite all the bleating, the vital national interests and strategic assessments of governments hold sway over emotions. Usually those national interests are far more limited than most assume, unless national security is threatened. However appalling the TV pictures and newspaper reporting, in the U.S. (and probably in many other Western countries, as well) "severe human rights violations, including genocide" are most unlikely to constitute a vital national interest.23 The official working view of the new generation of substate conflicts further minimises the chance of a significant intervention. They will have "no immediate, substantial impact upon the interests of the great powers" and "the international response to such crises will rarely be decisive."24 The approach of governments appears to follow a trend to be noninterventionist, regardless of the power of media reporting. The Clinton administration's Presidential Decision Directive No. 25 defines clearly those limits of U.S. national interest beyond which it is highly unlikely that the U.S. will ever commit itself, certainly militarily and on the ground.25 The directive came at a time when most leading European governments were exasperated by what they saw as the lack of both understanding and leadership on the Balkans crisis from the Clinton administration. Eventually, there was a period when the Clinton administration belatedly tried to portray an image of assertive presidential engagement in foreign crises.26 The high-profile U.S. action on crisis management in Bosnia in the summer of 1995, which led to the Dayton peace agreement, is the primary example. The change of heart and new determination were welcomed internationally. The U.S. commitment was born out of a fundamental reassessment of U.S. national interests at the time, not because of media coverage. Privately, however, senior European officials remained sceptical as to how deep the U.S. commitment really went and how long it would last. It could be said that in many ways the scepticism was justified. In March 1996, National Security Adviser Anthony Lake announced a seven- point, "tough-love" checklist of national interests that might lead to a U.S. use of force. In contrast to the proactive Balkans policy of mid-1995, Lake's new list barely tilted at the challenges of conflict prevention created by the new generation of substate conflicts. 27 Implicitly, the checklist apparently ignored any emotive power of TV and media coverage. Under the new Lake doctrine, defining a clear exit strategy seemed to carry more importance than any immediate urgency for a U.S. commitment to entering any conflict prevention operation. When it came to U.S. national interest, Lake defined the commitment as follows: "Increasingly our interests require that our military keep peace in the wake of internal conflicts." In other words, a U.S. commitment is likely only when there is peace after a conflict. A commitment that might prevent the conflict from exploding in the first place is most unlikely, whether reported by the media or not! The Lake principles and the definitions of national interest in other capitals of the world help to explain the negligible response to most media coverage of conflicts, whether the conflict is looming or already being fought. Except in rare and unpredictable circumstances which can occasionally lead to "policy panic,"28 this explains the political impotence of TV pictures, despite any personal emotions that the images create among ministers, government officials, or members of the public with anything more than a fleeting interest in the horrors that they see or read about. It can be argued that there is a strong measure of political hypocrisy and cant in many government circles. Leading nations publicly espouse an apparent determination to nip in the bud all challenges to stability and regional order. That, after all, is the tone of deliberations and communiqués at international forums like the G7 or the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE). But is such rhetoric reflected faithfully in official actions? Governments argue that the new threats to regional stability come not from ethnic fault lines29 but from "extreme nationalists and tribalists, terrorists, organised criminals, coup plotters, rogue states and all those who would return newly freed societies to the intolerant ways of the past."30 The former British foreign secretary Douglas Hurd characterised the same challenge with a different twist. "We have an interest in a world which is not run by a lot of tyrannical, blood-stained crooks" he said.31 Thus there may be an interest, but this author argues that except in moments of policy panic32 this interest usually does not translate into a determination to prevent. This underlines the stark limits to national interest. Determined belligerents coldly weigh up limits.33 They make a calculation to exploit such international lack of interest to their own advantage.34 An example of this occurred during a showing of the vivid TV pictures of the massacres in Rwanda. At a diplomatic banquet in London, Foreign Secretary Hurd described movingly the conflict as a "true heart of darkness" whose details "I can barely bring myself to watch." But for the British government, as with almost all others (except France), such horror and emotion did not translate into a proactive switch in policy designed to end the fighting. The later international response to the cholera catastrophe in Goma was a palliative panic response born out of shame more than a determination to end a policy of systematic slaughter that had already lasted four months.35 Politically, the impact of TV images in particular was at best marginal. National Interest: The Media's Complaint Many in the media despise the minimalist view implicit in government calculations of national interest. For reasons of self-interest and/or conviction, many journalists who risk their lives to report on a looming or exploding conflict will not be deflected from the view that the CNN factor either directly influences policy,36 or, if it doesn't, then it should. Martin Bell, the BBC's distinguished former foreign affairs correspondent, complains that the wars he has covered were the result of failed politics and diplomacy. "The Bosnia war," said Bell, "has left me with the conviction that a foreign policy based only on considerations of national interest, and not at all of principle, is not only immoral but inefficient." Just before leaving TV journalism and becoming a member of the British Parliament, Bell actively promoted the need for what he christened a "journalism of attachment." Many colleagues, however, have rejected the concept.37 Others continue to argue that without TV coverage, looming conflicts and humanitarian crises would not appear at all on the government radar screen and therefore would be ignored by the international community. Such expectations are wholly reasonable, of course. And they do make for a powerful argument. However, once again, putting a conflict on the governmental radar screen is not the same as forcing that government to do something about it. The U.S. definition of "vital" or "extremely important" national interests is not the only one to rule out virtually any conflicts without direct relevance. British national interests, for example, are little different.38 Additionally, it is hard to find evidence that preemptive media coverage has explicitly led to preemptive diplomatic action designed to prevent a conflict from exploding. Almost none of the covert preparations made in advance of a conflict (e.g., secret weapons deliveries or plotting by adversaries) are ever known to or discovered by diplomats and NGO's, let alone journalists, until it is too late, and the conflict has exploded.39 Underlining the chasm between governments of leading world powers and the likes of Bell, Douglas Hurd wrote: Martin Bell's principle cannot surely be that we should intervene against horrors only when they are televised? . . . Bosnia is far from unique. I can think of eight civil wars raging at this moment, with others simmering. Britain cannot be expected, even with allies, to intervene each time.40 Often the international community, once it sees the images, turns away, invokes international law, and declares that the conflict is an "internal matter" for the "sovereign government." Chechnya in November and December 1994 is the most vivid example. Burundi in July 1996 is another. For a variety of reasons underpinned by international law, governments with the power and capability to intervene cited "sovereignty" as a primary reason for doing as little as possible. Such nonresponses are the hallmark of what Martin Bell complains is the "nothing can be done club." Many journalists like Bell take a robust and emotive stand against such negativists. "It is in the interests of all our children -- theirs as well as ours -- that they do not prevail" he wrote.41 Nevertheless, the record suggests that despite emotive and often brilliant reporting, the government negativists have prevailed. This author questions whether the kind of moral stand taken by the likes of Bell, whether implicit or explicit, influences politicians who make costly decisions about whether to commit effort and resources to intervene in some way in a conflict. For the many journalists who have witnessed and reported conflicts as they unfold, there is no doubt, however. They want the bloodletting halted in an impartial way. "The case for intervention is not to help one side against another, but the weak against the strong, the armed against the unarmed; to take the side of the everyday victims of war who, until now, have had no protection. It is really a question, finally, of whether we care," wrote Bell.42 Except for a few rare moments of policy vacuum, politicians by and large take a starkly different view. Both in Chechnya (claimed as part of the territory of a former superpower) and Burundi (a tiny independent nation with no strategic importance to any great power), the international determination to respect the right of a sovereign nation to reject offers of outside assistance overrode any personal ministerial revulsion at the unfolding horrors being reported by the international media. Chechnya, 1994: Media Coverage but International Inaction Chechnya in December 1994 is probably the most tragic example of lack of action. On the day that images of Russian bombing and burning aircraft at the Grozny airport were being transmitted worldwide, the 52 heads of state and government of the OSCE were in Budapest debating European security and crisis prevention measures, no less. The TV images from Grozny were broadcast in the national mission rooms of the conference center as the debate on the principles of European conflict prevention continued. But despite mutterings of concern, the flames and horror of Chechnya created little public resonance among the European leaders. There was certainly no decisive will to intervene to prevent the "limited" Russian military action from spiraling out of control. It can be argued that, in Chechnya, the key moment to send a decisive political signal to prevent a wider conflict -- including a veiled threat that military action might be part of a determined diplomatic initiative -- was squandered. Political fears and caution among Western nations about intervening in the horrors taking place on the sovereign territory of a great power overrode any emotional reaction being generated by TV pictures that "something must be done." This situation emphasises the clear limitations of intervening in conflicts where a major power like Russia has its own clear national interest. As a result, apparent European indifference -- based on the hope that Russian defence minister Pavel Grachev was right in saying he could secure Grozny in two hours -- effectively sent a green light to the Kremlin to continue its planned offensive in Chechnya. Less than two months later, Ambassador Audrey Glover, head of the first OSCE delegation eventually allowed into Grozny, described the horror she had witnessed as "another Dresden." If graphic TV reporting of the carnage throughout Christmas and New Year 1994 had created an impact on the international community to do something, then "another Dresden" might have been prevented. It did not have that effect. TV's impact was minimal. As Thomas Friedman wrote in a New York Times column on double standards in U.S. international diplomacy: Excuse me, but President Yeltsin kills more people in Chechnya on a slow morning than ever died in Tiananmen Square in 1989. Yet for some reason a U.S. president can go to Moscow to support Mr. Yeltsin and no one says boo. But if Mr. Clinton were to stop off in Beijing he would be pilloried.43 Thus one "legitimate" policy option is to ignore the TV pictures and have a policy to do nothing. Constructed wisely, such a zero policy can always be sold politically to a public in developed countries that is both ill-informed on foreign affairs (especially in the U.S.44) and increasingly numbed by images of subregional wars in which they have no interest. Burundi, 1996: The Impotence of Media Coverage From 1993 through 1996, the prolonged bloodletting in Burundi illustrated the illogical and inconsistent nature of the media's role in conflict. During these three years a combination of international editorial indifference and the physical dangers of visiting Burundi meant there was virtually no international media coverage of the unending murder and terror producing about 100 deaths a day.45 Other stories elsewhere in the world took precedence. Rare reporting like the emotive TV coverage by the BBC's George Alagiah of a period of mass slaughter in Burundi in October 1993 created no international resonance. In some respects, it might be argued that Alagiah's coverage was inadvertently mistimed. When he filed his reports, diplomatic prevention had failed, but the rate of killing might have been described as still only "getting up to speed." To many people, such a suggestion seems obscene. But the level of slaughter in a distant country few knew about had not reached a sufficient critical mass to mobilise international public opinion. So no one else bothered to follow up Alagiah's findings, even though one leading nongovernmental organisation (NGO) said that Burundi 1993 was "the only crisis which caught us by surprise."46 After Alagiah, the tragedy of Burundi continued virtually unrecorded by the world media. But the killing got worse, and further warnings from NGOs were ignored. We now know that the murders Alagiah reported in October 1993 were early warnings of a developing pattern of violence in the Great Lakes region of Africa that the international community was unable or unwilling to acknowledge, let alone tackle in an effective proactive manner. It was part of a similar regional pattern that led eventually to the Rwanda genocide in 1994. The international community only gave signs of stirring after the massacre of at least 304 people in Bugendana in July 1996.47 President Sylvestre Ntibantunganya was then stoned at the mass funeral and forced to seek refuge at the U.S. embassy. Journalists and television satellite dishes descended on Bujumbura. The Tutsi army pulled off a coup, and the international community held its breath.48 The best that Western ministers could do was to "hope"49 things would not slide into the full-blown genocide that many feared. On the night President Ntibantunganya was deposed, the UN secretary-general's spokesperson, Sylvana Foa, urged that the international community act before they saw appalling TV images of slaughter. "Unfortunately, it is not until we see babies being macheted to death on TV, that public opinion forces their governments into action," Ms. Foa appealed explicitly on one TV news programme with an air of desperation. "We do not want to see that this time."50 But what international impact did Foa's appeal have? Did international TV coverage of the massacres and coup in Burundi in late July 1996 lead to any additional and sustainable diplomatic effort to prevent a Rwanda-style process of mass slaughter? The answers are not encouraging for conflict prevention. Led by the then head of the UN Peacekeeping Department, Kofi Annan, and Foa, the United Nations harnessed the media to put emotional pressure on the U.S. and other Western powers. The UN's aim was to shame them into providing the political and logistics commitment on Burundi that they had refused for Rwanda in 1994. The UN failed. "It is not possible for the U.S. to lead everywhere and in every situation," U.S. State Department spokesman Nicholas Burns responded in the face of UN appeals for at least logistics support. "We have led where we think U.S. interests require: in Haiti, and in Bosnia, and we will not hesitate to lead in future situations, where our national interests are directly and in some cases vitally affected."51 In other words, on Burundi, despite intense media coverage for a few days, the U.S. answer was "No!" Subsequent analysis and revelations following the Great Lakes crisis of late 1996 and early 1997, which led ultimately to the overthrow of President Mobutu of Zaire, have illuminated an unannounced strategic U.S. policy towards Central and East Africa that supported the Tutsi interests in the region. This ensured that U.S.-backed intervention was always considered a nonstarter. The UN continued to warn that, after Rwanda two years earlier, history would judge the international community "rather severely" if it failed to "move very quickly before everything blows up in our faces" and mass slaughter ensued in Burundi.52 At the same time, NGOs warned of a failure of international "courage" and "will," and a Burundi "steadily slipping towards genocide before our eyes."53 But Western capitals prevaricated. Leading East African nations imposed economic sanctions instead of ignoring the legal technicality of Burundi's sovereignty and imposing a conflict-prevention force as they had earlier committed themselves to doing.54 Burundi returned within a week to its former lowly position as barely an also-ran in the news