My Turn: What's Really Behind the Fight Over Dover?
The media seem more interested in shocking us than in paying tribute to fallen soldiers like my son.
By Ruth Voshell Stonesifer
Jan. 12 issue - Upon hearing of the death of my soldier son, Army Ranger
Kristofor Stonesifer, two years ago in a helicopter crash in Pakistan, the first thing I
thought of was the Black Hawk crash in Mogadishu and the horrific aftermath that was
broadcast to the world. The image of an angry mob dragging the body of a brave soldier
through the streets had haunted me since I first saw it, and I worried that my son had
suffered the same fate. I was lucky. Although Kris also died in a helicopter crash, his
fellow soldiers were there to take care of his body and return him to us with dignity.
Even so, I can't stop thinking about what I saw and heard on television last
November—two dead American soldiers lying on an Iraqi road, and painful details
(which thankfully turned out to be false) about how Iraqis treated their bodies. Surely
other military families are haunted as well. Watching the news outlets play such footage
struck me as cruel, and even—dare I say it?—unpatriotic.
Our enemies know our cameras will record the celebration of our loved ones'
deaths—and that this is behavior Americans cannot tolerate. They know such images can
persuade our leaders to prematurely abandon their commitments, as they did in Beirut and
Somalia.
The media are commercial enterprises—graphic pictures boost ratings and increase
advertising revenue. The press has allowed itself to help our enemies by pandering to the
worst instincts of audiences.
Meanwhile, the networks and the print media say that the Pentagon's 1991 ban on filming
flag-draped coffins at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware, where bodies are customarily
received, is an assault on the First Amendment. But my experience has led me to believe
that the media are more interested in the shock value of pictures of large numbers of
caskets than in paying tribute to individual soldiers.
I wanted Kris flown into Dover so that his homecoming would be handled with proper
military honors. At the start of the Afghanistan conflict, the media ban was not being
enforced, and I believed that this would be the most appropriate way for the press to
cover his death. Instead of giving weepy interviews, we prepared ourselves for the perfect
family picture at his casket. But then I was told that only cargo of 10 or more bodies are
routed to Dover. There were only two on that first night of ground operations in
Afghanistan.
I was disappointed that our only homecoming option was the middle of a busy construction
site at Philadelphia International Airport, but the liaison from the Ranger regiment
assured me that the press had been notified. We walked out on the tarmac next to the open
cargo door of the enormous commercial jetliner, but when we turned to face the area set
aside for the media, there was only a lone cameraman from the Ranger battalion.
The press missed a wonderful story that windy day. It took only a few moments for the nine
members of the Ranger guard to remove the casket from the aircraft and for a crisp
formation of 12 soldiers to snap to attention and salute. As they did, every construction
worker and security guard, every person within sight of this small, simple ceremony came
to a standstill to pay his respects. They may not have known my son's name, but they knew
he was a soldier who had died in defense of his country. I was grateful that I could see
through my tears to witness their tribute.
After my son died, I discovered a journal among his belongings. In it he had written,
"Freedom means having the ability to say no to chaos." The press is guilty of
creating a feeling of chaos. Instead of showing the positive pictures that are circulated
through the e-mail grapevine by military families—pictures of soldiers making Iraqi
chil-dren laugh or rebuilding schools—it chooses images of our loved ones' bodies
being defiled. In doing so, it hurts the cause of freedom, not just in Iraq, but
everywhere in the world. Whether or not we agree with our nation's decision to intervene
in Iraq, we should all want to treat our troops and their families with dignity.
But the media don't get it. Competitive greed is the only purpose I can think of for
looping those horrific images on television, and for wanting to film the many caskets that
come through Dover. The media's unrelenting focus on the shock of death may yield big
profits, but it weakens our soldiers' efforts in Iraq and undermines the commitment of
families whose sons and daughters, husbands and wives, serve their country with pride. The
First Amendment may give the press the right to do it, but it doesn't say it has to.