Privatizing propaganda: Poppy Bush and his cronies rescued Dubya's Iraq policy. Now they're saving his propaganda war

Washington Monthly, Dec, 2002 by Nina Teicholz

ON Nov. 11, 2001, EXACTLY TWO months after the terrorist attacks, White House adviser Karl Rove traveled to what must have seemed like the heart of enemy territory: Beverly Hills. There, Rove met with several dozen Hollywood chieftains to discuss how the entertainment industry might aid the war effort, as it had during World War II.

It may be hard to recall now, but during those few months after 9/11, a nationwide spirit of patriotism really did predominate. Almost everyone, regardless of ideology, felt it important to support the president and do something for the country. The idea that Hollywood's fiercely liberal elite might work with the Bush administration did not seem utterly farfetched.

Rove pronounced the meeting "very heartening" Jack Valenti, president of the Motion Picture Association of America, promised that his lobbying organization would coordinate the effort. Even reporters put aside their usual cynicism, concluding that the new partnership was for real. "Almost certain to emerge in the coming weeks," The New York Times intoned after the meeting, "are star-studded U.S.O.-style shows for troops and their families, morale-building public-service announcements on television and in movie theaters and more ambitious efforts aimed at overseas audiences and filmed in a variety of languages, trying to reinforce the American government's position that this is a war against a small group of terrorists rather than a war against Islam."

Alas, a year after the meeting, the organization created that day (dubbed the "9/11 Committee") has done little beyond producing a couple of public-service announcements. How did such a well-meaning and reasonably promising effort disintegrate? Chalk it up to the same weaknesses that have bedeviled the Bush White House on so many fronts: a fundamental lack of concern about how the world views America; an unwillingness to work with allies who won't take orders; and a tendency to mistake the agendas of industry trade groups for the interests of the nation.

Fortunately, a separate and much more successful effort, not being nm out of the White House and unreported in the press, is underway to improve America's image abroad. Several dozen of Hollywood's finest talents have been hard at work developing Arabic-language movies and TV shows that could be ready for export to the Islamic world as soon as March. Directing this effort is a group of Washington luminaries that includes the president's father, George H.W. Bush, Henry Kissinger, Lawrence Eagleberger, Brent Scowcroft, and James Baker. These are, of course, the same people who helped convince the president to abandon his more hawkish advisers' plan to invade Iraq unilaterally in favor of a strategy of working through the United Nations to disarm Saddam--by all indications, a savvy policy shift. After rescuing his son's embattled Iraq policy, the elder Bush and his pals are now trying to save his failing propaganda war.

Motivating Moguls

During World War II, Hollywood produced a range of movies, from the rousing A Wing and a Prayer to the unsentimental The Story of G.I. Joe, meant to buck up the country's spirit and energize the tens of millions of citizens whose labor was needed for the war effort. Today's war on terrorism is obviously different. What this war requires is some way of less erring the extreme anti-Americanism found in many Islamic countries, a sentiment that creates the conditions terrorist recruiters depend on.

In recent years, experts in a variety of fields have converged on the idea that the best way to persuade vast numbers of foreigners to change their minds about something is not to drop leaflets or broadcast radio news programs, but to embed the message in popular entertainment. For instance, one of the most successful humanitarian operations in Afghanistan was UNICEF's inoculation of 7 million children in just under three weeks. This was accomplished only through the extremely effective dissemination of information about the purpose and importance of inoculation through a popular soap opera on the BBC's Pashtun service.

"Throughout all of recorded history, great teachers have always known that the way to capture the attention of the audience, and get a convincing message across is through stories, humor, songs, drama, music," says Phyllis Piotrow, founding director of the Center for Communications Programs at the Johns Hopkins School of Public Health. Or, as famed Hollywood director Sydney Pollack observed recently, "When people laugh, they're learning. When people cry, they're learning-if you do it right."

Hollywood, then, has a serious role to play in the war effort. But getting studio heads to accept it is no easy thing, as Rove learned at that first Beverly Hills meeting. Despite the initially favorable press coverage, some who attended the meeting recall a notable lack of specific commitment. At one point, Rove asked if Hollywood would be willing to do something as seemingly simple as send already-produced films to the troops overseas. "Not a hand in the room went up," recalls Craig Haftner, a documentary producer who attended. "In a room filled with people where the word introvert does not exist, the silence was ... deafening."