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American elections are frequently a duel between two photographs.
The candidate tries to find the right picture, the snap which encapsulates
his campaign: the young Bill Clinton shaking hands with JFK, or
Ronald Reagan with his hand on his heart in front of a flag. His
opponent hopes for the emergence of the wrong picture, the snap
they didn't want on the poster: Gary Hart with a floozy on a yacht;
Michael Dukakis looking like an Action Man model in a tank.
George Bush has so far struggled to locate his chosen photo: the
turkey he was pictured serving in Iraq proved embarrassingly to
be fake, the "Mission Accomplished" banner under which
he parked his plane on an aircraft carrier now looks ludicrously
premature. President Bush's handlers might have consoled themselves
that there was at least no risk of a bimbo picture coming out but,
this week, there was much worse. America started to see the photographs
Bush was dedicated to suppressing.
Enclosed in the patriotic blaze of Old Glory, the coffins lie in
rows in a hanger at Dover airforce base in Delaware. Each flagged
casket contains the remains of another member of the American services
killed in Iraq. The Pentagon refused to allow photo-opportunities
for the soldiers' last posts.
But, in a development which must have made Bush wish he lived under
the British system of state secrecy, 350 of these censored images
of the dead have been released to an Internet lobbyist under freedom
of information legislation.
This is a defeat for what was surely one of the most brutish manoeuvres
of modern politics. The White House has claimed that they were protecting
the dignity of the dead and the privacy of their families, but many
families were desperate for their lost to have their moment on the
evening news.
The truth is that the invisibility of the military fallen was a
decision driven purely by spin. A governing belief of US politics
is that the Vietnam war failed partly because news coverage made
President Johnson resemble some kind of national funeral director,
presiding over the obsequies of young men. Accordingly, Bush's image-handlers
quite deliberately decided that neither he nor his war in Iraq would
become associated with long, low boxes draped with the American
flag.
It's not necessary to be anti-war to see this as an act of cruel
duplicity. A leader's most profound decision is to ask his soldiers
to die in a war. If this is a leader's sincere belief, then it's
his/her prerogative, at least until the next election. But it is
not acceptable to pretend that the consequence of his/her decision
is anything but death.
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Part of the deal that soldiers make for
the potential sacrifice of their lives in a cause is that they will
have unusually elaborate funerals, with flags and trumpets and parades
of arms, and that these might provide some consolation to their families
and to their posthumous reputation. In modern times, an aspect of
these obsequies has been publicity - until the Bush administration
chose to withdraw the privilege in protection of its reelection hopes.
There is a more subtle argument against the publication of photos
of homecoming bodies, which is that, especially since the spread
of the Internet, the images may be appropriated by anti-war campaigners
who dislike and even despise the whole idea of soldiers. It's possible
that some of their dead soldiers and their families would be appalled
that they were being called in aid by pacifists.
But, if so, the solution to such misuse is clear. Members of the
military should be asked when enlisting if, in the case of the worst
happening, they would like publicity for their homecoming: the system
would be something like an organ-donor card. The fact that the White
House would never agree to this proves that the only family they
are trying to protect by this ban on flagged-casket shots is the
Bush one.
Although John Kerry remains dangerously silent and vague for a
man who plans to be in the White House in less than nine months,
this may be seen as the week when George Bush lost control of his
photograph album. The publication of the cadaver montage - in which
Bush's face is made up of squares containing smiles and stares of
military men and women who are now all dust - threatens to become
one of the most powerful propaganda images in history.
And now the coffin shots are out. Forced to explain how it can
simultaneously be heroic to die for your country, but necessary
to be shipped back in a silence and secrecy generally associated
with shame, Bush may be on the way to becoming a president whose
administration was snapped by photographs.
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