The World's Mouthpiece

Every Sunday, Managing Editor Edwin L. James of the New York Times writes a long signed article in his paper. Last Sunday, in his mildly amiable manner, he discussed a curious phenomenon: the positive desire of millions of Americans not to be told the truth about power politics involving Russia.

Wrote James: "Every time the newspapers report from London diplomatic contests, in practically all of which Russia is involved, which is natural enough, editors get many protests, especially when it is recorded that Russia was 'rebuffed' on this or that point, or that Russia 'failed' to have her way in this or that respect." Most squawkers, he said, simply followed the Communist line that Russia could do no wrong. But more sincere ones argued that when power politics rears its head, papers should ignore it.

"The obvious answer," said James, "is that an objective newspaper should report what happens. ... If there are divisions, as there are bound to be, to say that they should be passed over is to argue that newspaper readers should be given a false picture. . . ." There had been a sound reason for playing down Allied squabbles during the war, he wrote, "but with the war over there is small excuse for the veiling of such news."* Editor James patiently reminded his readers that the role of the press, "as desired by the vast majority of our people, is to give the facts completely . . . even if Russia is 'rebuffed' from time to time."

But the many-tongued press, which is the world's mouthpiece, does not always talk with the mild forthrightness of the New York Times,. Sometimes it talks doubletalk, sometimes out of the side of its mouth, sometimes it mumbles through a gag of censorship or of its own stupidity. Some of the strangled sounds emitted here & there last week:

P: In Rumania, the Soviet-dominated "interministerial commission," rubber-stamping a promise made by the Moscow meeting, voted to end censorship. Next day one or two papers blossomed forth with editorials in favor of civil liberties. And the next day one newspaper was wholly suppressed for 15 days and two others had their editorials ripped out. Blandly the Premier reminded the press that there might be fewer papers soon because newsprint was so scarce.

P: In Argentina, too, paper was scarce. So the Government ordered paper firms to turn over 600 tons of it to three papers supporting Strong Man Peron's presidential campaign. With neat timing the U.S. Embassy let out some damning documents about the sordid pasts of the three papers. They, or key members of their staffs, had taken German bribe money in 1942-43, as photostatic copies of 13 top-secret Nazi documents proved.

* Editor James's own paper had followed a "three little monkeys" policy until well after V-J day.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.