Manufacturing Consent: The Political Economy of the Mass Media

Herman and Chomsky next turn their attention to elections as propaganda exercises. The propaganda, they assert, works in one of two ways: using an election—in a developing country, specifically—either to legitimize a client state or to delegitimize an unfavorable state. When the U.S. sponsors elections in a client state (a “demonstration election”), it portrays the election as a moral struggle between the forces of democracy (the favored government) and antidemocracy (whoever happens to be resisting that government). Dispatching “official observers” is often a charade, the authors argue, serving as little more than a public relations stunt. Genuinely ensuring a fair election requires adherence to liberal democratic institutions far in advance of the election itself—something oppressive regimes cannot abide.

While the Reagan administration highlighted the importance of these institutions in advance of the 1984 Nicaraguan election, they didn’t pay much attention to them prior to the Salvadoran or Guatemalan elections the following year. Conditions in Nicaragua were much more favorable to free and fair elections in the 1980s than those in either El Salvador or Guatemala. The Sandinista government in Nicaragua enjoyed popular support, and it was instituting reforms beneficial to the majority of its citizens. El Salvador and Guatemala were ruled by military governments engaged in terrorism against their own people. An analysis of various democratic benchmarks in the three countries—free speech, freedom of the press, and freedom to assemble and organize political parties—found severe restrictions in both El Salvador and Guatemala but more openness in Nicaragua. Fear of torture and murder limited free speech in the former two countries while, despite some moderate restrictions in Nicaragua, citizens felt free to engage in open political discussion. In El Salvador and Guatemala, journalists were arrested and killed, and any critical press shut down. In Nicaragua, despite some censorship, the government did not engage in intimidation and terror. El Salvador and Guatemala oppressed and decimated trade unions and professional organizations prior to their elections, while in Nicaragua, union membership grew. Finally, in El Salvador and Guatemala, government decree or murder shut out opposition candidates—that is, candidates of the left and far-left. The candidates that were on the ballot offered no real challenge to the ruling elites. In Nicaragua, on the other hand, the election boasted a more ideologically diverse selection of candidates, and those that dropped out did so willingly.

Another metric the media often uses to assess the strength of a democracy is voter turnout, but that metric can be misleading. In both El Salvador and Guatemala, voting is required by law, and failure to do so may be considered treasonous. In authoritarian countries, fear of reprisal can unsurprisingly result in long voter lines despite a lack of real choice. In Nicaragua, however, voting was not a legal obligation, and voters were not required to carry proof that they had cast a ballot (unlike in El Salvador and Guatemala). In short, high voter turnout may be a result of coercion and not an accurate indicator of a healthy democracy. The media also dutifully framed the Salvadoran election as one of brave citizens defying the threat of leftist guerilla violence to nudge their country toward democracy, never mentioning that guerilla activity on election day was lower than usual and that no one was killed going to the polls. In Nicaragua, a higher percentage of the population actually voted—without coercion—but the media failed to acknowledge it.

Since El Salvador and Guatemala were favored clients of the U.S. (i.e. friendly to American business interests), it was important to the Reagan administration to put these elections in a favorable light. With the appearance of democracy, Congress would be more likely to keep the money and arms flowing. To that end, media coverage of the elections was “cautiously hopeful and optimistic” despite the ongoing killings (110). In an example of the “flak” filter, the mainstream media either ignored or discredited dissenting voices in Guatemala, such as America’s Watch, churches, and human rights groups. The authors single out Steven Kinzer’s reporting in The New York Times as particularly egregious. He paints an overly rosy picture of the election results while omitting important context and oppositional voices. On the other hand, the reporting on the Nicaraguan election was dismissive and skeptical despite outside observers who acknowledged the government’s security measures, its pre-election literacy efforts, and its lack of fraud.

Another measure of election fairness is the ability of oppositional candidates to run freely. Oppositional candidates who enjoyed broad, grassroots support were disenfranchised or murdered by military forces in El Salvador and Guatemala—crimes the mainstream press largely ignored, while focusing almost exclusively on a single opposition candidate in Nicaragua who couldn’t get on the ballot. This candidate later conceded he “was on the CIA payroll” and probably had no intention of running in the first place (126). 

Using a series of detailed tables, the authors present an analysis of media coverage of elections in El Salvador, Guatemala, and Nicaragua. Their analysis confirms serious media bias in favor of state interests, as predicted in their propaganda model. Furthermore, coverage of the elections relied heavily on government sources, yet every major media outlet ignored a thorough election report by the Latin American Studies Organization (LASA). 

In reference to the 1981 plot to assassinate Pope John Paul II, the authors contend that the media did everything in its power to generate a Soviet conspiracy where none existed and to “[keep] the pot boiling from inception to conclusion” despite a lack of evidence (143). Mehmet Ali Agca’s attempt on the Pope’s life dovetailed nicely with the West’s desire to link communism and terrorism, and the media was the ideal platform to draw those connections, no matter how tenuous. Despite Agca’s right-wing ideology and his association with the Gray Wolves, a Turkish right-wing paramilitary group, it was important to portray him as a tool of the Soviets; consequently, the Italian secret service (SISMI) reported a connection between Agca and Moscow—a charge later disproven. Nevertheless, The Reader’s Digest reported early on that Agca had ties to Bulgaria, a Soviet satellite, and other mainstream media sources widely accepted the claim. The authors argue that this claim was based largely on speculation and assumption. The attributed motives for the assassination—either to weaken Turkey’s association with NATO or to suppress the Polish Solidarity movement—made little sense given the timeline and political realities of the moment. The authors contend that, if the situation were reversed—if Agca had briefly traveled through the United States, spent time in a U.S. prison, and then offered a convenient confession implicating U.S. officials as co-conspirators—the press would have viewed this “evidence” with far more skepticism. In fact, testimony revealed that Agca’s admission of a “Bulgarian connection” was likely coerced during his time in prison, and investigators found no physical evidence of such a connection.

As predicted, the media reported a “Bulgarian connection” without serious question, taking the Reader’s Digest story at face value and disregarding any alternate version. The Times engaged in a great deal of speculation and tangential reporting, not specifically confirming a Bulgarian connection, but naming Bulgaria so frequently as to make the connection tacitly. For the most part, the media relied on the same two sources—Reader’s Digest reporter Claire Sterling and CIA operative Paul Henze—without seeking out other sources who might challenge the official line. The fact that “Sterling and Henze refused to appear on television shows (or college debates) with people who opposed their views” further stymied critical reporting (158). The authors closely examine, and dismantle, Sterling and Henze’s methods and motives as biased, uncritical, and misleading. Sterling’s connection to the Reader’s Digest, for example, gave her access and a powerful platform, while her reporting gave the conservative media network ideological validation in return.

The authors list several holes in Sterling’s version of events that went unquestioned and unreported in most of the mainstream media:

• The allegation that Pope John Paul II wrote a letter to the Kremlin threatening to resign and return to Poland if a Soviet invasion seemed imminent. A spokesperson for the Vatican claimed that there was no such letter, and that it would be “a total departure from all normal procedures” (162).
• Sterling’s claims that Bulgarian secret police knew of Agca’s whereabouts at all times. In fact, testimony at his trial suggested that Agca travelled through Turkey precisely because its heavy traffic allowed for secrecy.
• The allegations that Agca’s right-wing leanings were only a cover for his Soviet sympathies, despite his association with the Gray Wolves.
• The fact that Agca’s “confession” came 17 months after he was incarcerated in Italy. The possibility of coercion was never entertained.
• An Italian report detailing fascist infiltration and corruption of SISMI, agents of which interrogated Agca and met with him repeatedly in prison.
• Finally, the mounting evidence that Agca was pressured to implicate the Bulgarian government, even though much of his story was falsified.