Books’ Military Politics series and Military Politics: New Perspectives (2023), among other books.
Crosbie applied the “Page 99 Test” to his new book, The Political Army: How the U.S. Military Learned to Manage the Media and Public Opinion, and reported the following:
Turning to page 99 of The Political Army will bring you to the beginning of Chapter 4, which is about what I refer to as “the Tet Paradox”. This chapter is essential to the argument of the book, but let us consider the contents of page 99 exclusively. You’ll start the page reading about “black teams” of assassins (members of the US armed services acting without attribution) killing suspected members of the Viet Cong. You will quickly recognize that you’re in the middle of the Vietnam War, looking over the shoulder of US government officials. From the assassins, we make our way over to an awkward exchange between Gen. William Westmoreland, US commander in Vietnam, and Gen. Harold K. Johnson, the chief of the Army back home. And then we get another awkward exchange, this time between Westmoreland and Adm. U.S.G. Sharp. Both Johnson and Sharp were annoyed at Westmoreland’s poor handling of the American journalists reporting on the war. From the exchanges, we learn that far from the press being intractable and out to get the military, there was in fact a high degree of willingness among journalists to work with the Army – but at the same time, a very limited tolerance for Army commanders who wanted to dissemble and mislead. We end the page of another dark note: more public outrage at clumsy efforts to mislead the media, and a nightmarish discover: mass rape and murder at a small hamlet called My Lai.Learn more about The Political Army at the Columbia University Press website.
Readers interested in The Political Army would do well to read page 99, since it does indeed give a feel for the key themes of the work. The Political Army painstakingly reconstructs the U.S. military’s attempts to manage the media in various theaters of operations from World War II to Desert Storm. In some ways, a key theme is repetition: the repeating of mistakes by military leaders like Westmoreland who time and again got their relations with the press wrong; by journalists, who discover the same sorts of stories – of atrocity and mismanagement, and sometimes of human decency amidst the horrors of war; and finally, the Groundhog Day-like experience of public affairs officers, forced to defend again and again the need for an intelligent and democratic attitude toward the press. Page 99 does not quite do justice to the arc of the story, however. The book’s story begins at a time when the media’s own view of its role in war had yet to form. As the Army began to learn about the risks and opportunities represented by the media, Army leaders tended to focus on the potential benefits: the media could help sell the Army’s story to the American public. Optimism gave way to reckless utopian thinking, and the result was a disastrous mismatch between the Army’s expectations and the media’s interests in the beginning of the Vietnam War. Eventually, the Tet Paradox (named for US responses to the North Vietnamese invasion during the festival of Tet in 1968) became apparent to Army leaders: even battlefield victory could appear like a major defeat if journalists presented it that way. What page 99 does not show the reader is the hard battles that followed Vietnam, and which allowed the Army to finally come to terms with the critical role of media management in the success of military operations. Readers are therefore encouraged to read the book in the traditional way: starting with page 1, you will find yourself flicking quickly through the pages until you reach page 216, which ends with some prophetic words about why we cannot afford to ignore the democracies of war and the role of the military in actively supporting democracy. I leave it to readers’ own imaginations to untangle whether such prophecies have merit in the dark days of Trump.
--Marshal Zeringue
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