Manufacturing Consent: The Political Economy of the Mass Media

When the U.S. sponsors—or tacitly supports—an election in a client state (El Salvador, for example), the authors refer to this propaganda strategy as a “demonstration election.” The government will rely on all the usual media manipulations to sell the election as “democratic” and a “moral triumph” in the face of adversity. When the opposition is excluded from the ballot, the media will argue that they are “undemocratic” for refusing to participate. On the other hand, elections in non-favored states, such as Nicaragua, are delegitimized as “corrupt.” For Americans, the rhetorical appeal of the word democracy is so strong that the manipulation practically sells itself. In truth, the media omits far too much relevant context, such as time spent on election logistics, ease of registration, or fear of reprisal for voting. In many cases, the client state fails to meet these basic requirements, while the non-favored state does a far better job. 

The “Domino Effect” (or “Domino Theory”) is a term President Harry Truman coined to refer to a U.S. foreign policy strategy of containment. The theory argued that, when one country “fell” to communism, neighboring countries were at greater risk of falling as well. The theory was instrumental in American involvement in both Southeast Asia as well as Central America. The validity of the theory has been debated vigorously since the end of the Vietnam War, when the fall of Saigon failed to trigger a greater communist expansion in the region (“The Domino Theory—The 1970s and after.” americanforeignrelations.com). Despite doubts about the theory, the U.S. government deployed it two decades later to justify American support of tyrannical regimes in Central America. 

According to Herman and Chomsky, the media uses five filters to promote an elite agenda: concentrated media ownership, reliance on advertising, sourcing, flak, and an anticommunist ideology. Fewer companies controlling more media outlets creates an ideological hegemony within the news business that is antithetical to an independent press. Second, the media’s reliance on advertising dollars for survival makes it beholden to corporate interests, and news sources without access to those ad dollars are seriously marginalized. Third, by gathering information primarily from “official” sources and PR representatives, the media is taking the official line at its word. Fear of losing access causes journalists to treat their sources with kid gloves. Fourth, “flak” refers to the ways in which the media and its powerful benefactors marginalize or discredit dissident voices. Finally, filtering the news through an anticommunist ideology reduces stories to “us versus them” and “good versus evil.” The authors show how the media uses each of these filters in its reporting on real world events. 

Also known as the “Sandinistas,” the FSLN was a revolutionary movement in Nicaragua that overthrew dictator Anastasio Somoza. Its leader, Daniel Ortega, became synonymous in the mainstream media with tyranny and Soviet expansionism. He and the FSLN were convenient targets for a media eager to uphold an anticommunist ideology. In reality, Ortega’s movement, while not free of corruption, was far less tyrannical than portrayed, and it represented the interests of the Nicaraguan peasantry rather than the U.S.-supported elites and rebels. 

The Geneva Accords of 1954 were intended to resolve the ongoing conflict in Vietnam between the French and nationalist forces. When France announced its withdrawal, the Geneva agreement divided the country along the 17th parallel until elections could be held. The Accords are important, Herman and Chomsky argue, because of the U.S. disregard for them. Fearing a fair election would install a communist government, the U.S. ignored a duly-signed agreement and pressed for a military option. Although some critics argue that the Accords were doomed to failure and that “many stakeholders either refused to sign or signed under pressure” (“The Geneva Accords of 1954.” alphahistory.com), Herman and Chomsky see instead a concerted American effort to undermine the peace process because the U.S. foresaw an unfavorable outcome.

The “incident,” in which North Vietnamese patrol boats attacked a Navy spy ship called the U.S.S. Maddox, was the final provocation that convinced Lyndon Johnson to send ground troops into Vietnam. The incident also involved a second attack on the U.S.S. Turner Joy, although the validity of that claim has been questioned. Herman and Chomsky argue that little evidence existed of a second attack, but that the optics were powerful enough to justify committing troops, which the U.S. saw as its only alternative to peaceful elections. The media, they claim, dutifully sounded the war horn without carefully examining the evidence.

The Pentagon Papers were a 47-volume, classified study of U.S. involvement in Vietnam. They were important both as a test case for the First Amendment—Nixon sued The New York Times and The Washington Post to prevent their publication—as well as a validation of the antiwar movement; they confirmed that the Nixon administration had been covertly bombing Laos and Cambodia. Herman and Chomsky cite the Pentagon Papers extensively in their harsh critique of how the media reported (or failed to report) the facts about the war. 

The Propaganda Model, a systematic process by which the mainstream media filters, distorts, and suppresses much of what it reports, serves as the skeleton of Herman and Chomsky’s entire argument. The media, they argue, is little more than a propaganda machine that serves the interests of political and corporate elites while censoring information that runs counter to those interests. Since Western democracies tend to associate “propaganda” with totalitarian states like North Korea and China, the authors’ assertion is particularly disturbing. 

A series of coordinated, surprise attacks by the North Vietnamese against American and South Vietnamese targets, the Tet Offensive was a major turning point in the war and arguably the tipping point in the U.S. media’s support of the war effort. The Pentagon had been claiming that the U.S. was winning the war, bringing democracy to South Vietnam, and repelling the onslaught of communism. The Tet Offensive, which for the first time brought reporters in close proximity to the fighting, showed the real strength of the North Vietnamese and the fragility of U.S. support in the region. With the administration’s claims about the war exposed as a lie, the antiwar movement grew. Although American and South Vietnamese forces managed to recapture much of the territory they had lost, the damage was done. The public began to question the logic and motives of a war it didn’t fully understand in a part of the world that seemed too remote to be of serious national security concern. 

These terms refer to the dichotomous classification of victims of state terror based on the state’s favorable or unfavorable status. An example of a “worthy” victim—that is, worthy of sympathy and outrage—is Polish priest Jerzy Popieluszko, who was killed inside the borders of a communist state; therefore, his murder was cause for anger and a call for investigations until the culprit was found and punished. On the other hand, when U.S.-backed military forces in El Salvador murdered four churchwomen, the reaction was more muted; they were “unworthy” victims because their deaths occurred at the hands of a client state. To press for an investigation the way the media did in the Popieluszko case might reveal atrocities committed by “friends” of the U.S. Such revelations challenge the mythical image of the U.S. as righteous and moral.