Information at War. Philip Seib

and it has clearly contributed to increasingly adversarial dealings between press and government. This dynamic tension fosters an environment in which the motives and even the patriotism of the protagonists have been called into question. When carried to extreme levels, such vilification may not only affect war-making but also jostle the foundations of civil society.

Fast and easy access to information through social media and other venues has changed the role of gatekeepers – traditionally the news organizations through which information has long been channeled and filtered on its way to the public. The universe of information providers is much larger today, and it keeps growing, which means the concept of “information hegemony” is increasingly obsolete. This increased number of information sources sometimes contributes to a “clash of emotions,” which can shape a political environment in ways that affect whether or how a war is fought.⁸

      This has led to non-journalistic media influencing warfighting in new ways. Even governments that have long controlled the information that reaches the public have learned that they can be circumvented with increasing frequency. Censors can be eluded, and firewalls can be scaled – not always, but frequently enough to broaden the range of voices making themselves heard about war.⁹

      In this volume, perhaps more significant than conventional issues related to news media performance during war is the weaponization of information itself. We have moved into an era beyond news media monopolization of information about armed conflict. “Information” in this context has, to an unprecedented degree, become much more than “news” as we have traditionally known it, and it is affecting warfare in ways that continue to evolve at a brisk pace. Because information has become so easy to gather – or to invent – and disseminate, state and non-state actors can wield it to stir anger, sabotage elections, and soften or stiffen the resolve of citizens who are too often treated as mere pawns in politics and conflict.

      Can information start a war? Not on its own, but it certainly can influence the likelihood of one. When the Hearst and Pulitzer newspapers in the United States were screaming for war against Spain in 1898, they affected the American political environment and nudged, if not pushed, President William McKinley toward war.¹⁰ Today, an individual or group putting inflammatory material on social media can help cause civil disorder, and perhaps – in combination with other factors – incite pro-war sentiment.

Information conveyed through popular culture also can affect attitudes about war.¹¹ Mrs. Miniver, a British film (based on a bestselling novel) released in 1942, showed audiences in the United Kingdom and elsewhere how heroically resolute the British people were, even in the face of heavy bombing and the evacuation from Dunkirk. German propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels noted its effectiveness, saying, “There is not a single angry word spoken against Germany; nevertheless, the anti-German tendency is perfectly accomplished.”¹² The Germans themselves knew the value of cinematic propaganda, as exemplified by films such as Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will. Through the Second World War, the Cold War, and beyond, fictive and documentary films have been, to varying degrees, persuasive in how publics view specific conflicts and war generally. A detailed examination of this topic is outside the scope of this book, but it is an intriguing field for exploration.

      Information’s credibility has long been affected by the venues through which it is presented, but these venues are now so plentiful that information consumers may lack the knowledge needed to distinguish among sources and weigh their relative credibility as they decide what to believe. Online content competes with the media forms to which we grew accustomed during earlier decades. YouTube rivals television; websites and the likes of Facebook and Twitter vie with print; text messaging and email supersede face-to-face conversation and provide incessant updates about events. The speed and variety of providers have few limits, and members of the public dip into various offerings with a click or a tap that unleashes a river of information that washes over them.

      This book is about relationships among primary contributors to information at war, including the public, which must be defined broadly. Some members of the public watch war as if it was a spectator sport; the television or cellphone screen does not drip the blood of combat onto the living-room carpet, and escaping a war zone is merely a matter of switching channels or clicking on another app. Others might have much more at stake: those who are themselves caught up in war, including the noncombatants who become “collateral damage” (an obscenely cold-blooded term) as war’s fury touches their lives. Some of these may choose to be “citizen journalists” themselves, tweeting, blogging, or otherwise presenting information about the rage of warriors and the damage they inflict.

      Information tools available to the public are also used increasingly by conflicts’ actors themselves. Within recent years, we have seen inflammatory – and often false – information deployed within targeted populations as part of long- or short-term provocation leading toward military action, as was the case with Russia’s 2014 invasion of Ukraine.¹³ Joining the ranks of conflict-related communicators are “trolls,” “bots,” and other mechanical and human spreaders of tales that are designed to disrupt. “Deepfakes,” for instance, can look and sound so real that they can mislead even those who consider themselves to be savvy information consumers.

Distorted information has long been used for military advantage. To some extent, this could be offset by influential mainstream information providers with the skill and wherewithal to verify and, if needed, correct misleading material. In recent decades, these have included trusted print publications as well as many of the foundational news broadcasts on radio and television, their ranks expanded by global and regional cable and satellite news networks. Today, however, that policing role has shriveled due to the ease with which global publics can obtain information directly from an always-growing universe of sources, some of which have negligible allegiance to truth.

      We are in a transitional period during which individuals are learning (at varied speeds) how to navigate the sea of information. Which information providers offer safe harbors with reliably accurate content? Which ones are actually whirlpools that lure audiences with appealingly angry messages? How can the public distinguish among them? What level of media literacy is essential in the information era?¹⁴

      War is always with us in one way or another. Information can change the course of war, and war can change the role of information. The persistence of conflict and the relentless flow of information ensure that information at war will long continue to be part of our lives.

      This book proceeds roughly chronologically.

      During war, as at other times, information can make the remote seem proximate. The first true “living-room war” was a function of radio, and one of the most distinctive voices early in the era of electronic media was a young man born near Polecat Creek, North Carolina – Edward R. Murrow. As we see in chapter 1, “Living-Room Wars,” Murrow told many of his stories of war from the battle zone in real time, which captivated their audience and heightened their impact. His voice came into American living-rooms from across the Atlantic in 1940 as Great Britain was enduring intense German bombing, and his reports helped to chip away at the isolationism that was strongly influencing US politics. His work and that of other journalists provided President Franklin D. Roosevelt with room to maneuver as he sought to help keep Britain afloat in its fight against Nazi Germany.

War being brought into the living-room also had great effect two decades later, when television had been established as a principal news provider. By 1960, nearly 90 percent of American households had a television set,¹⁵ and seeing as well as hearing about war on a continuing basis would sharpen public perceptions about the nature of conflict. As portrayed by some in the news media, the costs of the fighting in Southeast Asia and the apparent endlessness of that war fueled Americans’ growing doubts about the necessity of such a conflict.

      While television coverage was capturing attention, journalists working in other media were also wielding increasing influence. Certain print journalists made clear that they were not “on the team” in terms of shaping their reporting to conform to government officials’ wishful thinking. Correspondents