Sunday, November 6, 2016

"All Governments Lie" and the Real-Life Comments Section

All Governments Lie: Truth, Deception, and the Spirt of I.F. Stone,” playing through Thursday, November 10 at Cinema Village.

Anyone who believes that Millennials have the market cornered on self-centeredness clearly has not been to a public lecture or a film screening followed by a Q&A. There you find yourself in an orgy of people old enough to have grown children gazing at their navels and masturbating their intellects, obsessed with the shortcomings of the film/lecture and how, had they been in charge, they’d have done it better. Too many of the Q’s are actually A’s — people speaking at, not with. The presentation has caused them to think, but only in a way that reinforces what they already believe — and if it doesn’t reinforce belief, it’s completely wrong. Such events are like being in a real-life comments section.

Standing outside afterwards you wait patiently to speak with the people who presented the film/lecture and when you finally get the opportunity, after listening to the other A’s, you are interrupted by an ejaculation of someone in her forties or fifties standing ten feet away asking if she could only ask "a" question that quickly turns into five but that are, at least, actual questions. The whole thing is recorded on Instagram and Twitter by sexagenarians with or without anyone’s consent. As you watch this it begins to dawn on you that this sort of stuff is not a Millennial problem, but a societal problem. Slowly you realize that in this context David Brooks is starting to sound reassuring, and an icy chill of cynicism and helplessness runs down your spine.



The Film

This was roughly my experience at the New York premiere of “All Governments Lie,” a documentary about modern-day independent journalists and the debt they owe to I.F. Stone and his publication, “I.F. Stone’s Weekly.” True to its title, the film spells out how all governments (and corporations) lie, focusing on the American experience though sojourning briefly to Tahrir Square circa 2011. It is a menagerie of journalists whose stories don’t quite intersect; Izzy Stone comprises the sinews that hold it all together.

The film opens dramatically, with quick cuts and booming sound effects and a few shots that I didn’t quite understand of waterfowl on a pink lake with the sun low in the sky. Just as I was preparing myself for a heavy-handed, conspiratorial film, the tone softened to an earnest sincerity sprinkled with humor. “All Governments Lie” doesn’t dwell on its titular claim. Rather, it follows the stories of the journalists revealing those lies, starting with Izzy Stone, the original old-school investigative reporter.

The film is worth seeing just for the “Hey-I-know-him!” parade of journalists: Amy Goodman (Democracy Now!), Glenn Greenwald and Jeremy Scahill (The Intercept), Matt Taibbi (Rolling Stone), Cenk Uygur (The Young Turks), David Corn (Mother Jones), Chris Hedges (TruthDig), John Carlos Frey (The Investigative Fund), and many others. It also prominently featured my former professor Jeff Cohen, who was an executive producer.

For anyone who follows indy media, there was not much surprising about the film, but it was an excellent survey of the work of independent journalists on topics ranging from Vietnam to Iraq and Watergate to WikiLeaks. It also looked at the failings of mainstream media, particularly the pitfalls of their corporate funding and their unwillingness to criticize the government in exchange for access. “There’s only two types of reporters,” Chris Hedges says in the film. “Those who care and those who don’t. Most of them don’t care.” The film makes a strong case that the majority of the The New York Times and The Washington Post newsrooms fall into the latter category.

It’s not all gloom. One of the film’s highlights is a section on humor in indy media. There’s something about independent journalism that would seem to tend towards the ultra-serious, but the film rightly notes that journalists like Stone and Taibbi use humor to great effect. Take also, for example, (this point was not made in the film) the intro music to Democracy Now!, which could seem dissonant against the seriousness of the news and the news organization itself. But it’s not. The subject is serious, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be engaging or even funny.

“All Government Lie” seems to draw to a fade-to-black ending about three times too many, but each one reinforces its central message: well-researched independent journalism is essential for holding governments and corporations accountable. If you want to learn more about independent news sources, this is the film for you. And if you’ve not heard of I.F. Stone, this film is an excellent introduction to his life and work.

The Aftermath

The film ends, the audience applauds, and the director, Fred Peabody, accompanied by Matt Taibbi, begins a Q&A with the audience. This is the part where the audience is supposed to present Q’s for those up front to A. But the audience seems to produce mostly A’s.

In hindsight, it’s not surprising that a film titled “All Governments Lie” would attract both people who appreciate Noam Chomsky (who is heavily featured in the film) and those who follow Alex Jones (who, thankfully, isn’t). It is startling, however, when the first A for Peabody and Taibbi is a diatribe about the filmmakers missing the true government lie. The second A was something about hearing Brian Williams say Hillary Clinton would be elected and then arrested, making Donald Trump the president. Just think about that one for a moment. As my wife noted on the train ride home from the City, “It’s important to see that the Right doesn’t have a monopoly on conspiracy theorists.”

One man accused the filmmakers of releasing the film too late - that had it come out earlier, Trump would have been taken to task sooner, and furthermore, Bernie Sanders would more likely be the Democratic nominee. This one actually was sort of a Q: Why didn’t you release it sooner?!

Finally came the a true Q that had been prompted by the film, the so what questions: In light of what we’ve just seen, how are we to spread the truth? How do we get people to start caring?

I’ve been wrestling with these questions for a while. How do you get people to stop reading junk? How do you get them to differentiate solid reporting from the filth peddled by sites like InfoWars and these click-baiting fly-by-night sites nobody’s ever heard of? How do you get people to be more information literate, to care about their media diet?

There’s no easy answer to these questions, but the glancing response from Taibbi seemed to be that you just have to write and hope that people get it and spread it. It is essential to have someone watch the watchers, even when they are mere Cassandras.

Soon we are forced out of the theater so the 9:00 showing can begin. The theater is slow to empty, and people linger in the lobby and outside the theater, eager to get a hold of Peabody and Taibbi.

I wait outside with my wife, eager to just say “thank you” to both of them, particularly Taibbi, who’s been a hero of mine since "Griftopia." The film referred to him as equal parts I.F. Stone and Hunter S. Thompson, which is the best description of Taibbi I’ve ever heard. Few write with such simultaneous passion, truth and wit.

Everyone wants a piece of them. I insert myself into lines and am quickly crowded out. Phones are flashing. Everyone’s trying to provide Taibbi an A for him to answer.

I finally get a turn. I shake Taibbi’s hand. It is large and soft and warm. He’s friendly, though understandably a little distracted. He wants to get home. We’re interrupted by Peabody, who launches into a story about an executive producer. After the director leaves and Taibbi apologizes. I thank him for his skill and his wit. I tell him the film has reawakened the journalist in me. He warns me that independent journalism does not pay much. I joke that it wouldn’t be much of a change, as I work for a nonprofit. I introduce my wife. She asks a question, but we’re interrupted again by a woman in a white dress. He answers her question, then deftly says goodbye to us. He has to get home. We understand. Time is short for independent journalists, particularly those with families.

We slip away from the orgy and I’m already composing this in my head, already gazing at my own navel, trying to get back into writing and maybe eventually journalism by making sense of my own experience in the form of the blog post that you, apparently, have read to the end.