The Press SATURDAY, APRIL 8, 1967. The Much-Reported War

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31339, 8 April 1967, Page 12

The Press SATURDAY, APRIL 8, 1967. The Much-Reported War

No war has been more intensively observed nor more thoroughly reported than the war in Vietnam. There has been virtually no censorship on the side of the South Vietnamese and their allies. Although correspondents are instructed not to reveal, without official confirmation, details of casualties and plans of military operations, their reports leave Vietnam uncensored. About 300 foreign correspondents are accredited in Saigon, and they generally have the co-operation of military and civilian authorities in observing, at first hand, the war at all its levels. The resources of individual reporters and of the news agencies and cameramen are augmented by official information services which daily give briefings on the action. Within the limits of safety and transport, reporters may see whatever they want to see, interview whom they please. Never before have writers and photographers given readers and viewers all over the world such an intimate, daily insight into the nature of a war and the particulars of its progress. To this fact can be attributed much of the unprecedented controversy surrounding the war; for the impact on public awareness and conscience has been without precedent. And it may be doubted whether in any previous war the citizens of combatant countries have had such opportunities to see the conflict from the other side—not only through “ enemy ” eyes but through the eyes of their own reporters admitted to “ enemy ” territory. In view of all this it may seem surprising that accounts of what happens in Vietnam can be so various and conflicting.

Who and what is the newspaper reader to believe? Does he, after assimilating reports, impressions, opinions, and appraisals, after seeing photographs and films, and after hearing first-hand accounts, emerge with a reasonably accurate picture of the war and what it means? Can the most honest, objective reporters and newspapers give readers a wholly objective, total picture through inevitably piecemeal accounts and through articles which attempt to comprehend the many features of the war? The difficulties of understanding this war are occasionally thrown into relief by outstanding reports—outstanding for their thoroughness and conviction, or because they illuminate an aspect of the war by their comprehensiveness. Such articles may show acute observation and avoid, as the propagandists usually fail to avoid, drawing general conclusions from particular and perhaps isolated incidents. A month ago a special correspondent of the “ Economist ” in Vietnam examined the policies and the effects of American bombing raids in South Vietnam. In areas of full-scale operations he found the Americans bombed devastatingly and relentlessly. In areas known to contain civilians they took elaborate precautions to avoid hitting civilians. “Perhaps never before has a belligerent wielded “such a preponderance of power with so much restraint”, he said. Most Americans in Vietnam, and a “considerable” number of non-Americans, genuinely believed that the present American policy was the only one that Hanoi would understand, he said- He then added, significantly: “It all seems “ so different in Vietnam from the way it appears “in London, Paris, New York, or even Washington “ itself. Moralists—and future historians—can

“ pronounce on who is right and who is wrong ”. To most people outside, if not inside, Vietnam, the answer to that question must be more relevant today than it will be in years to come. But this reporter’s account of the bombing policy and its effects on civilians ought to modify any impression that the bombing is reckless and heedless of civilian casualties.

This week “ The Press ” printed an article by Dr. Howard Rusk, medical columnist of the “ New “ York Times ”. Without diminishing in any way the very real horror of the war, this article threw a new and, we believe, a clearer light on the picture of civilian casualties. Dr. Rusk found no evidence to support earlier reports of widespread civilian casualties, including children, from napalm burns. Other observers, equally reputable and no doubt as sincere, have found different evidence, which has horrified them and in turn their readers. The truth probably lies somewhere between the extremes of these medical reports, just as the truth about the war must be sought in a composite of all the varying points of view. Some reporting of the war has been marked by understanding and compassion, some by a fierce and exultant partisanship. “The Press” has tried, within the limits of space available, to print all kinds, not only to give its readers the opportunity of seeing the war through many different eyes, but so that they may know how newspapers readers in other parts of the world are seeing it Another aspect of the war which is open to misinterpretation is the civilian aid programme. It is slow-moving, often ineffective; and sometimes its work is undone by military action. The programme does not lend itself to daily reports of progress, as do the battles, mishaps, and military movements. It is too easy to suppose that what happens in one place at one time represents the pattern everywhere and at all times. It is also easy, or convenient, to overlook important but unspectacular efforts to restore peace in South Vietnam. More unfortunately, it is easy to accept what confirms one’s prejudices and to reject what conflicts with them. If the picture of the war is complicated, changing, and filled with apparent paradoxes and inconsistent details, that is because the war itself is like this. To allow it to appear otherwise would be to draw a false picture. In a way that the world has not previously experienced, people remote from the theatre of war have found themselves involved in the turmoil. It is an unfamiliar challenge: no-one can now claim to be comfortably on the outside looking in.