The Disaster in Afghanistan Began With Bad Video from Kabul

don’t forget the flashlight

In June, 1930, Charles William Beebe and Otis Barton were lowered to the bottom of a trench just off the coast htere in the Bahamas, where they ascended to a depth of 3,028 feet.

They did it inside a crudely cast iron ball, 1.5 inches thick with two tiny portholes made of quartz.

I read all about it yesterday in A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson.

The sphere had almost no maneuverability – it simply hung on the end of a long cable – land only the most primitive breathing systems; to neutralize their own carbon dioxide they set out open cans of soda ime, and to absorb moisure they opened a small tub of calcium chloride over which they sometimes waved palm fronds.

But it worked.

There was no instrumentation and the most they could do was peer out of the little window.

In 1948 they dove to 4,500 feet in the Pacific.

Now, maybe you have seen enough National Geographic shows to look at Beebe and Barton’s iron ball and smile.

Don’t.

The only alternative today is Alvin, (built, ironically by General Foods), which can’t dive nearly as deep.

According to Robert Kunzig, quoted in Bryson’s book, “humans may have scrutinized perhaps a millionth or a billionth of the sea’s darkness. Maybe less. Maybe much less.”

Well, that is sobering.

Then there is the way that we conduct international journalism.

Gunga Dan

The picture above, for those two young to remember, is Dan Rather, who was once a vastly overpaid CBS News anchor.

He went to Afghanistan (before the US invaded) and dressed up as an Afghan to ‘report’ on the situation there.

Not speaking a word of Pashtun or Urdu, (and trailed by a large camera crew), how much information do you think he could have c=gleaned to pass on to his American viewers?

Would ‘none’ be a good answer?

Probably?

What could he have learnt that was of any value? What did he know to start with?

Would ‘next to nothing’ be a good start?

Probably generous. (The next to part).

Yet for more than 50 years, this has been the very foundation of American journalism.

A man in a tiny cast iron ball with a small quartz window left dangling in Afghanistan or Iraq for a few hours.

And this we call reporting.

This we call ‘journalism’.

This is what Columbia University President Bollinger feels must be protected.

Why?

What is the value here?

What is the value of this kind of pointless ‘reporting’?

Admittedly, it might have a bit of entertainment value, but not that much. Not for what it costs.

And worse, not for what it does to the American people, because they suffer from what Neil Postman used to call the illusio of knowledge’.

Having seen Gunga Dan on TV ‘reporting’ the news, we now believe we are qualified to have an informed opinion on what is going on there.

We aren’t.

Having illuminated a few square meters of the bottom of the sea in Bermuda, we think we know the oceans.

We don’t.

Now, here’s an interesting difference:

If all the sea life in the world could suddenly tell us what life was like on the bottom of the ocean, our understanding of the bottom o the ocean, and indeed of all sea life would change overnight.

They can’t.

Ironically, hundreds of thousands of people in places like Afghanistan or Iran or Iraq can tell us what life is like there every day.

And they do.

But we don’t accord them any credit.

We don’t want to listen to what they have to say.

We would rather lower another ‘white guy’ in a bathysphere with a video camera to peer out his porthole.

Is it any wonder Iraq and Afghanistan turned into such a mess?

One can only wonder, where is the next disaster?