

SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.


Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
When I was 10 years old, I saw my dad on TV. On the nightly news, to be exact.
I was sitting in the living room of my great-aunt's house in Southern Indiana reading a book when I heard an unmistakable voice shouting over a crowd. I looked up and saw Dad, fully clad in Army gear, standing on the hood of a jeep as he passed out food to Iraqi civilians. I felt my breath leave my chest at the sound of a voice I hadn't heard in months.
When I was 10 years old, I saw my dad on TV. On the nightly news, to be exact.
I was sitting in the living room of my great-aunt's house in Southern Indiana reading a book when I heard an unmistakable voice shouting over a crowd. I looked up and saw Dad, fully clad in Army gear, standing on the hood of a jeep as he passed out food to Iraqi civilians. I felt my breath leave my chest at the sound of a voice I hadn't heard in months.
It was unusual for me to be watching the news. After the war started and my dad deployed to Iraq, we outlawed all the major networks in our house. No CNN. No CBS. No MSNBC. No Fox News. My family didn't need to see the violence of war play out under a sensationalized voiceover. We could feel it constantly bubbling under the surface of our daily interactions.
I quickly learned that the media didn't speak for me or for my family. Mainstream media outlets polarized the public on the subject of the Iraq War and silenced anti-war sources.
A 2003 Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting study found that 64 percent of the sources featured on six major American evening-news programs during the first three weeks of the Iraq War were in favor of the invasion. In contrast, anti-war sources made up only 10 percent of the sources used during this period. Of the 840 U.S. sources featured who were current or former government officials, only four held anti-war opinions.
As a 10-year-old, I didn't really care about the politics. I just wanted my dad to come home, and I wanted access to stories that would help me cope with the complex and tumultuous reality in which I was living.
Instead, every time I overheard an interview on the radio or caught a glimpse of the constant news coverage, I heard relentless championing of the invasion of Iraq. I didn't hear the voices of Iraqi civilians, or the many nations that didn't support what the U.S. was doing. At the time, I didn't comprehend the forces driving these conversations on the news, but I did understand that this meant my dad wouldn't be coming home soon.
My junior year of college, I was lucky enough to attend Free Press' National Conference on Media Reform in Denver. In her keynote speech, Amy Goodman said, "This is no longer a mainstream media. This is an extreme media beating the drums for war." And she's right -- between network investment in weapon production and the exploitative narratives that made me feel disconnected from everyone but my immediate family, mainstream media outlets generally fail to present narratives that run counter to their interests.
In the 13 years since I saw my dad on the nightly news, I've struggled to completely renounce imperialism while still acknowledging how I've materially benefited from my close connections to the military. It's a question that exists outside of the yellow ribbons tied around trees, the "honk if you support our troops" bumper stickers, and the emotional montages of soldiers returning home. It's also about more than simply making anti-war voices more visible.
But the polarizing approach found in mainstream media coverage doesn't leave room for the nuance required to tackle these questions, and it won't until news outlets do a better job of serving the public interest.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
When I was 10 years old, I saw my dad on TV. On the nightly news, to be exact.
I was sitting in the living room of my great-aunt's house in Southern Indiana reading a book when I heard an unmistakable voice shouting over a crowd. I looked up and saw Dad, fully clad in Army gear, standing on the hood of a jeep as he passed out food to Iraqi civilians. I felt my breath leave my chest at the sound of a voice I hadn't heard in months.
It was unusual for me to be watching the news. After the war started and my dad deployed to Iraq, we outlawed all the major networks in our house. No CNN. No CBS. No MSNBC. No Fox News. My family didn't need to see the violence of war play out under a sensationalized voiceover. We could feel it constantly bubbling under the surface of our daily interactions.
I quickly learned that the media didn't speak for me or for my family. Mainstream media outlets polarized the public on the subject of the Iraq War and silenced anti-war sources.
A 2003 Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting study found that 64 percent of the sources featured on six major American evening-news programs during the first three weeks of the Iraq War were in favor of the invasion. In contrast, anti-war sources made up only 10 percent of the sources used during this period. Of the 840 U.S. sources featured who were current or former government officials, only four held anti-war opinions.
As a 10-year-old, I didn't really care about the politics. I just wanted my dad to come home, and I wanted access to stories that would help me cope with the complex and tumultuous reality in which I was living.
Instead, every time I overheard an interview on the radio or caught a glimpse of the constant news coverage, I heard relentless championing of the invasion of Iraq. I didn't hear the voices of Iraqi civilians, or the many nations that didn't support what the U.S. was doing. At the time, I didn't comprehend the forces driving these conversations on the news, but I did understand that this meant my dad wouldn't be coming home soon.
My junior year of college, I was lucky enough to attend Free Press' National Conference on Media Reform in Denver. In her keynote speech, Amy Goodman said, "This is no longer a mainstream media. This is an extreme media beating the drums for war." And she's right -- between network investment in weapon production and the exploitative narratives that made me feel disconnected from everyone but my immediate family, mainstream media outlets generally fail to present narratives that run counter to their interests.
In the 13 years since I saw my dad on the nightly news, I've struggled to completely renounce imperialism while still acknowledging how I've materially benefited from my close connections to the military. It's a question that exists outside of the yellow ribbons tied around trees, the "honk if you support our troops" bumper stickers, and the emotional montages of soldiers returning home. It's also about more than simply making anti-war voices more visible.
But the polarizing approach found in mainstream media coverage doesn't leave room for the nuance required to tackle these questions, and it won't until news outlets do a better job of serving the public interest.
When I was 10 years old, I saw my dad on TV. On the nightly news, to be exact.
I was sitting in the living room of my great-aunt's house in Southern Indiana reading a book when I heard an unmistakable voice shouting over a crowd. I looked up and saw Dad, fully clad in Army gear, standing on the hood of a jeep as he passed out food to Iraqi civilians. I felt my breath leave my chest at the sound of a voice I hadn't heard in months.
It was unusual for me to be watching the news. After the war started and my dad deployed to Iraq, we outlawed all the major networks in our house. No CNN. No CBS. No MSNBC. No Fox News. My family didn't need to see the violence of war play out under a sensationalized voiceover. We could feel it constantly bubbling under the surface of our daily interactions.
I quickly learned that the media didn't speak for me or for my family. Mainstream media outlets polarized the public on the subject of the Iraq War and silenced anti-war sources.
A 2003 Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting study found that 64 percent of the sources featured on six major American evening-news programs during the first three weeks of the Iraq War were in favor of the invasion. In contrast, anti-war sources made up only 10 percent of the sources used during this period. Of the 840 U.S. sources featured who were current or former government officials, only four held anti-war opinions.
As a 10-year-old, I didn't really care about the politics. I just wanted my dad to come home, and I wanted access to stories that would help me cope with the complex and tumultuous reality in which I was living.
Instead, every time I overheard an interview on the radio or caught a glimpse of the constant news coverage, I heard relentless championing of the invasion of Iraq. I didn't hear the voices of Iraqi civilians, or the many nations that didn't support what the U.S. was doing. At the time, I didn't comprehend the forces driving these conversations on the news, but I did understand that this meant my dad wouldn't be coming home soon.
My junior year of college, I was lucky enough to attend Free Press' National Conference on Media Reform in Denver. In her keynote speech, Amy Goodman said, "This is no longer a mainstream media. This is an extreme media beating the drums for war." And she's right -- between network investment in weapon production and the exploitative narratives that made me feel disconnected from everyone but my immediate family, mainstream media outlets generally fail to present narratives that run counter to their interests.
In the 13 years since I saw my dad on the nightly news, I've struggled to completely renounce imperialism while still acknowledging how I've materially benefited from my close connections to the military. It's a question that exists outside of the yellow ribbons tied around trees, the "honk if you support our troops" bumper stickers, and the emotional montages of soldiers returning home. It's also about more than simply making anti-war voices more visible.
But the polarizing approach found in mainstream media coverage doesn't leave room for the nuance required to tackle these questions, and it won't until news outlets do a better job of serving the public interest.