Claud Cockburn, my grandfather, knew when it was time to leave Berlin.
A young British journalist, he’d worked as a correspondent for The [London] Times in that city in the 1920s before transferring to New York and Washington DC. Returning to Germany in July 1932, he saw “storm Troopers slashing and smashing up and down the Kurfürstendamm”, and war propaganda: “huge exhibitions of ‘the Front’, soldier figures standing in a real-life size trench playing with a dummy machine gun”, he wrote.
In a letter to my grandmother, Hope Hale, a US-based journalist just then pregnant with my mother, he described how fascism on the horizon felt: “It’s hard to imagine that this is something one is really seeing.”
Until it wasn’t hard. As Cockburn wrote: “Hitler. He came to power. I was high on the Nazi blacklist. I fled to Vienna.”
Cockburn’s story is retold in a forthcoming book by his son, journalist Patrick Cockburn, due out this fall from Verso. It’s a timely intervention, inviting us to consider how different what Claud called the “Devil’s Decade”, is from our own.
The 1930s saw the press in fascist countries co-opted or suppressed. In Nazi Germany, Joseph Goebbels’ ministry of propaganda saw to it that only state-approved stories were told. Independent journalism was not just discouraged – it was dangerous. Writers were shot. Books were burned. To facilitate the Fuhrer’s dominance, the Third Reich subsidized the production of cheap radio receivers called Volksempfänger, which not only made money for friendly manufacturers but also channeled distraction and Nazi communication directly into people’s homes. In Italy, Mussolini’s regime did much the same, using media as a tool to consolidate power and propagate fascist ideology.
Today, Elon Musk is no Joseph Goebbels. Still, as I write, the billionaire entrepreneur known for co-founding Tesla and SpaceX (his privately owned rocket-and-satellite company), and now owning X (formerly Twitter), has been accused of stoking bigotry and hate. Controlling content and its moderation (or lack of it), Musk is seeing to it that his powerful, free, social media platform pumps out pro-Maga propaganda, while joining with other tech billionaires to invest in the Trump-Vance campaign.
That campaign has made calling journalists “enemies of the people” so central to its message that future generations will have to be reminded that Adolf Hitler did it first.
Goebbels operated in a dictatorship where the media was entirely controlled by the state with the explicit goal of suppressing freedom of speech and promoting genocidal thinking. We operate within a supposedly democratic framework in which no minister of propaganda is forcing the newspaper of record to instruct its journalists covering Israel’s war on Gaza to restrict the use of the terms “genocide”, “ethnic cleansing”, “refugee camps” and “Palestine”. Some newspapers, like the New York Times, do it unforced.
Homogenous, even in an age of media proliferation, the most influential media spent June in lock-step, disparaging one elderly candidate’s fitness for office after a stumbling performance in a debate. This August that same media devoted precious time to carefully “fact-checking” the drivel of the other elderly candidate after an entirely unhinged press conference. The same candidate has promised to suspend the constitution and be a dictator “on day one”.
One is reminded of the headline over the New York Times report on Hitler becoming Chancellor: Hitler Puts Aside Aim to be Dictator. “There is no warrant for immediate alarm,” the editors wrote on 31 January 1933. “The more violent parts of his alleged program he has himself in recent months been softening down or abandoning.”
Quitting the Times to found the Week, a newsletter that became famous for its scoops and takedowns of those in power, Claud’s work was not risk-free. His opposition to fascism and the complicity of western democracies in enabling its rise made him a target for enraged rulers and rightwingers in the UK and overseas. Too impecunious to sue, the Week was often threatened and finally banned, in January 1941.
We like to think our media landscape today is shaped by subtler forms of control: media monopolies, mass-market pressure, extreme commercialism and digital surveillance. And then there’s Julian Assange. Assange, through Wikileaks, published classified documents that exposed US government killings in Afghanistan and Iraq. For that, Assange wasn’t shot, but he was locked up and charged under the Espionage Act, the first person to be so charged for an act of journalism since that act’s passage in 1917.
This June, after five years in London’s grim Belmarsh prison, Assange agreed to plead guilty to one Espionage Act charge of conspiring to obtain and disclose classified US national defense documents. In exchange, Assange got his freedom, and so did that old word “treason”, dusted off for new, 21st-century use.
Methods of information control evolve, but one phenomenon seems to remain: timidity. Living in Vienna, where loquacious diplomats, lawyers and refugees circulated stories and suspicions from all over Europe, Claud read the English daily papers and was struck “by the fact that what informed people were really saying – and equally importantly, the tone of voice they were saying it in – were scarcely reflected at all in the newspapers”.
It is hard to imagine that one is really seeing what one is seeing until it isn’t.
Laura Flanders is the host and executive producer of Laura Flanders & Friends, a nationally-syndicated TV and radio program.
Source: US Politics - theguardian.com
