Seymour Hersh vs. Judy Miller: The truth about Bin Laden’s death — and the anonymous government sources The New York Times is delighted to print as “truth”
Desperate rush to discredit Osama bin Laden bombshell perfectly sums up the media’s slavish relationship with power
Well, well. Another grand American narrative, brimming with the triumphalist heroism of people we put into uniforms, melts like ice cream in the summer sun. No more credit to the commander-in-chief for the stealthy, nerves-of-steel manhunt and point-blank murder of Osama bin Laden back in 2011. It turns out to have been a matter of bribes, intelligence feeds, a stage-set raid, American betrayals—but of course—and last-minute chaos in Washington as to which concocted tale of derring-do would shine brightest in the light.
Let us console ourselves with the thought that the operation was a crime under international law anyway.
News of this latest myth-spinning chicanery comes to us from the inimitable Seymour Hersh, whose intricately detailed and carefully reasoned account was published Sunday in the London Review of Books. It is first-rate craft, one of Hersh’s better explorations into the reality that is like our air: We breathe it but cannot see it. Read Hersh’s piece here. Remarkable stuff—which is why our most powerful media will aim to discredit it.
It seems that square-jawed Navy SEALs with those high-tech night goggles that practically starred in “Zero Dark Thirty,” Hollywood’s post-event propaganda film, were more or less led to bin Laden’s door. All they had to do was kick it down and negotiate with extreme prejudice, as the CIA used to describe these things.
High Pakistani intelligence and military officers did the work, as Hersh reports. They had had bin Laden under house arrest in Abbottabad, a hill station favored by the military since the British Raj, for five years before they agreed to let the Americans “find” him. This was part of an elaborate deal struck after apparently extended talks.
“The idea was that, at the right time, his location would be revealed,” Asad Durrani, the former head of ISI, the Pakistani intelligence agency and one of Hersh’s better sources, explained in an earlier interview. “And the right time would have been when you can get the necessary quid pro quo—if you have someone like Osama bin Laden, you are not going to simply hand him over to the United States.”
Washington’s quid for Pakistan’s quo were assurances of continuing military and counterterrorism aid and “under-the-table personal ‘incentives,’” meaning bribes, as described by one Hersh’s American sources. This was a top intelligence officer, now out of the game, who was privy to the early intel putting bin Laden in Abbotabad.
All this got under way in 2010, when a former ISI officer, also senior, told the CIA station chief in Islamabad, Jonathan Bank, that he could lead the Americans to bin Laden in exchange for the $25 million reward George “Dead or Alive” Bush offered after the September 2001 attacks. So proceeded the horse-trading, after the ISI man was polygraphed in situ and passed.
Unless you inhabit the innermost circles on the dark side, you did not know any of this before the LRB published on Sunday. “The most blatant lie,” Hersh writes near the top, and he is going to tell us about many, “was that Pakistan’s two most senior military leaders—General Ashfaq Parvez Kayani, chief of the army staff, and General Ahmed Shuja Pasha, director-general of the ISI—were never informed of the U.S. mission.”
Altogether, Hersh’s piece is wildly at variance with the official accounting of the events surrounding bin Laden’s assassination, and you are made of some other stuff if the enormity of the Obama administration’ conjuring does not leave you astonished. I love Hersh’s nod in this direction in his extended lead: “The White House’s story might have been written by Lewis Carroll,” he writes.
A ruse this elaborate and ambitious begets the same kind of reporting, and Hersh has been extremely careful to note all the markers on his trail. The piece is 10,000 words and does its work. The remarkable intimacy Hersh achieves with reconstructed events and motivations speaks well enough for itself.
It is implicitly an immense challenge to anyone who reads it. By my count Hersh faces us with two fundamental questions. One, do we accept his rendering of what happened as against what most of us thought to be approximately true and, either way, why? Two, what is the deeper significance of this story—and by extension all others in Hersh’s clipping books?
These two questions meet at the horizon. Let us proceed in that direction.
Hersh is one of those people who spend years becoming famous overnight. He was a journalist seven years before his sensational unearthing of the Mai Lai massacre in 1969 shot him out of a cannon. And from the first, this: Hersh seems always to have understood the work to require heavy trafficking in falsehoods.
“The only thing I can tell you is that there’s an awful lot of good people in the government, believe it or not—an awful lot of people who don’t like lying,” Hersh said in an interview some years ago. “A lot of people in the military who get up to high positions and can’t stand what they had to do to get there and try to stop what they’re doing. A lot of people in the intelligence community that, you know…”
Then he added: “And it’s the lying that’s the vehicle for me. The other vehicle also the generic notion of counter-narrative.”
Hersh’s corner of the profession thus leads him to some extremely dark corners. To readers this means one thing above others: When he re-emerges to speak to us do we believe what he says? He is, after all, describing things we cannot make out even in outline.
I do. This is based on the record, in part. When Hersh says he has seen a secret document he does not have in his files and cannot show us, or recounts a conversation that was not recorded, I say, It’s a special kind of reporting. The record is good and, second factor, the narrative rendered holds.
One example will do, this since I began this column. In August 2013, Washington was aflame with the dead certainty that Bashar al-Assad had sent chemical weapons into a Damascus suburb. Admittedly, the story line was a sieve, as noted at the time: U.N. weapons inspectors had arrived in the Syrian capital the day of the attack; Syrian rebels, desperate to pull Obama over his “red line,” had a motive magnitudes more obvious than any Assad may have had.
But it was Hersh who traced the bouncing ball all the way back to Gaddafi’s captured arsenals in Libya and followed it through the U.S. “consulate” in Benghazi, then on to Turkey and a chemical lab in the English countryside, where the fraud was proven. A dozen unexplained things immediately fell into place.
Hersh’s critics have grown to number many, a point I will return to momentarily. They almost invariably go for the sourcing question: The source are unnamed, they are formerly or now-retired whatevers, where is the documentary proof, everyone is off the record and so on. It is a point on which Hersh seems vulnerable, but I stay with “seems.”
It is a point on which Hersh seems vulnerable, but I stay with “seems.” And note as you peruse all the critical challenges: They rest on one, count it, one source—the administration, of course. Never mind a used car: I would not buy any account of anything Americans do abroad from these people.