John Pilger on President Obama: Don't believe the hype

Barack Obama is being lauded by liberals but the truth about him is that he represents the worst of the world's power.

My first visit to Texas was in 1968, on the fifth anniversary of the assassination of President John F Kennedy in Dallas. I drove south, following the line of telegraph poles to the small town of Midlothian, where I met Penn Jones Jr, editor of the Midlothian Mirror. Save for his drawl and fine boots, everything about Penn was the antithesis of the Texas stereotype. Having exposed the racists of the John Birch Society, his printing press had been repeatedly firebombed. Week after week, he painstakingly assembled evidence that all but demolished the official version of Kennedy's murder.

This was journalism as it had been before corporate journalism was invented, before the first schools of journalism were set up and a mythology of liberal neutrality was spun around those whose "professionalism" and "objectivity" carried an unspoken obligation to ensure that news and opinion were in tune with an establishment consensus, regardless of the truth. Journalists such as Penn Jones, independent of vested power, indefatigable and principled, often reflect ordinary American attitudes, which have seldom conformed to the stereotypes promoted by the corporate media on both sides of the Atlantic.

Read American Dreams: Lost and Found by the masterly Studs Terkel, who died on 31 October, or scan the surveys that unerringly attribute enlightened views to a majority who believe that "government should care for those who cannot care for themselves" and are prepared to pay higher taxes for universal health care, who support nuclear disarmament and want their troops out of other people's countries.

Returning to Texas, I am struck again by those so unlike the redneck stereotype, in spite of the burden of a form of brainwashing placed on most Americans from a tender age: that theirs is the most superior society in the world, and all means are justified, including the spilling of copious blood, in maintaining that superiority.

That is the subtext of Barack Obama's "oratory". He says he wants to build up US military power; and he threatens to ignite a new war in Pakistan, killing yet more brown-skinned people. That will bring tears, too. Unlike those on election night, these other tears will be unseen in Chicago and London. This is not to doubt the sincerity of much of the response to Obama's election, which happened not because of the unction that has passed for news reporting since 4 November (eg, "liberal Americans smiled and the world smiled with them"), but for the same reasons that millions of angry emails were sent to the White House and Congress when the "bailout" of Wall Street was revealed, and because most Americans are fed up with war.

Two years ago, this anti-war vote installed a Democratic majority in Congress, only to watch the Democrats hand over more money to George W Bush to continue his blood-fest. For his part, the "anti-war" Obama voted to give Bush what he wanted. Yes, Obama's election is historic, a symbol of great change to many. But it is equally true that the American elite has grown adept at using the black middle and management class. The courageous Martin Luther King recognised this when he linked the human rights of black Americans with the human rights of the Vietnamese, then being slaughtered by a "liberal" Democratic administration. And he was shot. In striking contrast, a young black major serving in Vietnam, Colin Powell, was used to "investigate" and whitewash the infamous My Lai massacre. As Bush's secretary of state, Powell was often described as a "liberal" and was considered ideal to lie to the United Nations about Iraq's non-existent weapons of mass destruction. Condaleezza Rice, lauded as a successful black woman, has worked assiduously to deny the Palestinians justice.

Obama's first two crucial appointments represent a denial of the wishes of his supporters on the principal issues on which they voted. The vice-president-elect, Joe Biden, is a proud warmaker and Zionist. Rahm Emanuel, who is to be the all-important White House chief of staff, is a fervent "neoliberal" devoted to the doctrine that led to the present economic collapse and impoverishment of millions. He is also an "Israel-first" Zionist who served in the Israeli army and opposes meaningful justice for the Palestinians - an injustice that is at the root of Muslim people's loathing of the US and the spawning of jihadism.

No serious scrutiny of this is permitted within the histrionics of Obama mania, just as no serious scrutiny of the betrayal of the majority of black South Africans was permitted within the "Mandela moment". This is especially marked in Britain, where America's divine right to "lead" is important to elite British interests. The Observer, which supported Bush's war in Iraq, echoing his fabricated evidence, now announces, without evidence, that "America has restored the world's faith in its ideals". These "ideals", which Obama will swear to uphold, have overseen, since 1945, the destruction of 50 governments, including democracies, and 30 popular liberation movements, causing the deaths of countless men, women and children.

None of this was uttered during the election campaign. Had that been allowed, there might even have been recognition that liberalism as a narrow, supremely arrogant, war-making ideology is destroying liberalism as a reality. Prior to Blair's criminal warmaking, ideology was denied by him and his media mystics. "Blair can be a beacon to the world," declared the Guardian in 1997. "[He is] turning leadership into an art form."

Today, merely insert "Obama". As for historic moments, there is another that has gone unreported but is well under way - liberal democracy's shift towards a corporate dictatorship, managed by people regardless of ethnicity, with the media as its clichéd façade. "True democracy," wrote Penn Jones Jr, the Texas truth-teller, "is constant vigilance: not thinking the way you're meant to think, and keeping your eyes wide open at all times."

John Pilger, renowned investigative journalist and documentary film-maker, is one of only two to have twice won British journalism's top award; his documentaries have won academy awards in both the UK and the US. In a New Statesman survey of the 50 heroes of our time, Pilger came fourth behind Aung San Suu Kyi and Nelson Mandela. "John Pilger," wrote Harold Pinter, "unearths, with steely attention facts, the filthy truth. I salute him."

This article first appeared in the 17 November 2008 issue of the New Statesman, Obamania

Photo: Copyright Natural History Museum
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One man and his whale: how an iconic Natural History Museum exhibit fought class divides and transformed science

As a blue whale skeleton replaces the entrance hall’s historic dinosaur cast, curator Richard Sabin reveals the secrets of the giant mammal’s much-loved replica.

On 25 March 1891, a female blue whale was harpooned by a whaling vessel and fatally injured. She was in the Irish sea, and ended up beached on a sandbank at the entrance of Wexford Harbour, on the south-east Irish coast.

Local fishermen discovered her floundering and thrashing around, four-and-a-half times the size of their boat, significantly taller, and more than 25 metres long. They had never seen a creature this size. A fisherman called Ned Wickham eventually put her out of her misery with a blade, and, according to contemporary reports, “succeeded in dispatching the big fish”.


The blue whale skeleton, c.1950-74. Photo: © Trustees of the NHM, London​

Over 126 years later, and that same creature that caught a handful of fishermen’s attention will be seen by millions. Her 4.5 tonne skeleton is going on display in London’s Natural History Museum entrance hall, replacing the traditional Diplodocus cast in the grand Hintze Hall. It’s a controversial move. Dippy ­– who received his nickname from an adoring public – is an iconic part of the Natural History Museum’s history, wowing visitors since 1905.

A special panel of collection managers, curators and scientists was put together to choose Dippy’s replacement. Specialists across the museum were invited to make a case for their preferred exhibits.

“Will our blue whale skeleton become iconic like Dippy?”

Richard Sabin, the resident whale expert, won them over. “What makes a specimen iconic? Will our blue whale skeleton become iconic?” he frets, when I meet him before the skeleton is unveiled. “I think so. It can’t fail to be, because of its very nature, but also because of where it is in the museum’s history and what we’re actively doing, in the field, with our researching.”

“It’s an interesting one because Dippy is of course part of people’s memories, childhood, and bringing their own children and so on,” he adds. He admits that his specimen of choice doesn’t even have a name – it’s been “lost over the years” – but says it’s “inevitable that she’ll get a nickname” now.


What the skeleton will look like in Hintze Hall. Photo: ® 2015 Casson Mann 

Sabin, 51, is a marine mammal curator, and has been working at the Natural History Museum for 25 years, where he’s the collections manager for the vertebrates division. But wandering among the Victorian grandeur in his camouflage hoodie, blue jeans and battered trainers, you wouldn’t tell that he is one of the museum’s senior figures.

We enter a dimly lit hall closed off to the public, where the exhibition for the Natural History Museum’s special whale season – which opens this week, along with Hintze Hall’s new resident – is being prepared. With its high brick arched ceiling and stained glass windows, it has the hushed atmosphere of a church. It is here that exhibitions are prepared before going on show.

Specimens, lit up and attended to by blue lab-coated conservators, loom out of the gloom like stalagmites. The corkscrew-shaped jaw of a deformed sperm whale; the rib cage of a bottle-nosed dolphin; giant toothed whale skulls gazing up at the ceiling – some with bandages, others being cleaned with cotton buds.


A whale conservator working on a flipper. Photo: © Trustees of the NHM, London​

“When they [visitors] leave the exhibition, we want them to have connected with whales and dolphins in an emotional way, but a way that hopefully makes them want to take some kind of an action,” Sabin says, referring to marine exploitation and mankind’s gruesome whale-hunting past.

The Wexford whale was discovered just before the rise of commercial whaling, and a decade ahead of the industry dominating the Irish coast. She was on one of the last migrations of blue whales unthreatened by an industry that would come to endanger the species by turning them into oil, soap, perfume, candles, margarine, corsets and even umbrellas.

 “Welcome to the blue whale, the biggest mammal in the world!”

Although Sabin has been working on this exhibition for years, he looks wide-eyed at the assorted bones and skulls with boyish delight. Aside from his white hair and grey speckled stubble, he probably had the same expression when he first visited the Natural History Museum on a school trip at ten years old.

It was then that he first saw the Wexford whale skeleton. Until last year, it was suspended above the museum’s world famous blue whale replica.

“My first and overwhelming memory of the museum was the whale hall,” Sabin grins, as we walk towards it through the echoing corridors. The blue whale replica is especially sign-posted. “You walk in at ground level as a tiny child and you’re just presented with a wall of blue. And then you look up above the blue whale model and you see all the other skeletons. That was really the memory that I took away from the museum back then.”



The blue whale replica with the skeleton above. Photo: © Trustees of the NHM, London​

Sabin remembers asking a gallery attendant if the blue whale, suspended like a big blue zeppelin from the ceiling, was real. She said no. And so he asked about the Wexford skeleton above it, where it had been until last year. She told him it was genuine, and that these animals were still out there in the ocean. “My imagination just went off on one,” he recalls.

As a child, Sabin was fascinated by bones. He used to collect roadkill from a main road near where he grew up in north Birmingham, and bring it home. His “very understanding parents” let him have a little patch of ground at the bottom of the garden to bury the carcasses, “so I could rot away the flesh and look at the bones”, he explains.

“I wanted to know what was inside these animals. I wanted to know how they moved and how they supported themselves.”

“It's not always the case that people are able to afford visiting London”

When he returned to the museum in 1981, having just finished school, he says he was “absolutely sold”. He applied for an archaeology degree, specialising in osteology, at Sheffield University, and then ended up working with marine mammals.

We gaze at the blue whale replica from a viewing gallery. Its ridged jaw slopes up at such an angle that it appears to be half smiling, its tiny eyes creased. It has been here since 1938. It is the first lifesize scale model of a blue whale ever built, at 29 metres long (later, the Smithsonian in Washington DC would build theirs a few inches longer to make it the biggest in the world). We now know that it’s inaccurately rotund, but that doesn’t stop it stunning first-time visitors.



The whale hall. Photo: © Trustees of the NHM, London​

Most children who see it for the first time share the schoolboy Sabin’s reaction – we can hear them gasping and shrieking below as we speak. I remember being flabbergasted by its size when I visited on a school trip; I’d never realised – and can still hardly comprehend – that such large creatures exist. A model like this brings it to life more than any documentary I’ve seen.

“It was borderline whether I went on that school trip in 1976, because money was tight”

Although our ancestors’ thirst for replication has fallen out of fashion, we have them to thank for these reactions. Models such as this one make scientific research part of our cultural memory, as well as a key part of the museum’s body of research. This makes the study of science more accessible, Sabin believes. From the meticulous collecting and cataloguing of the Victorian era to the modern push for digitising the museum’s vast data records, it’s about bringing information to everyone, whatever their background. “I am a great proponent of that, because as a child, visiting London for the first time on a school trip from Birmingham, we didn’t really have a lot of resources at my school.”

Sabin was brought up in a working-class household; his father was a lorry driver and his mother worked in a factory. “It was a good life, but not a family with a huge amount of cash; we had holidays to Wales every other year in a caravan,” he says. “It was borderline for me whether I went on that school trip in 1976, because money was a bit tight.”

But it was his last year of primary school, and “it was the big trip,” he recalls. “So my parents were like he’s got to go to London to see these things, but it's not always the case that people are able to do that.” For this reason, Dippy will be taken on a tour around the country, hoping to attract five million new viewers.

Hundreds of people affected by their first impressions of the blue whale replica have told Sabin their stories. A woman whose mother ran a nearby coffee shop in the 1950s used to visit it every morning as a child. She told him about a security guard walking in at 10am on the dot each day and shouting, “Welcome to the blue whale, the biggest mammal in the world!” and then turning around and walking out. “It’s a pity we don’t do that anymore,” smiles Sabin.



The blue whale replica being built in the Thirties. Photo: © Trustees of the NHM, London​

He shows me a big leather-bound volume of photos of the model being built in the Thirties, by a father-and-son team of the zoology department, Percy and Stuart Stammwitz. Men in aprons and flatcaps climb all over its wooden skeleton, like the hull of a ship. Some, like regular painter-decorators, apply individual plaster strips to its throat, to make a pleat effect. A man on a step ladder cleans the whale’s back with a long broom.

As they built it, some of the workers suffered motion sickness, as the suspended model used to sway. Nevertheless, they would occasionally take cigarette and lunch breaks inside the whale.

“It’s about making people realise that science really is for everyone”

Myths swirl around the museum about the whale’s hollow belly, which is said to have housed everything from a secret gambling den to romantic liaisons to a makeshift distiller. These aren’t true, but the team did put a 1937 telephone directory and change from their pockets inside before sealing it. “Like a time capsule,” Sabin says.

Although the blue whale model is so adored, it was important to Sabin for a real-life specimen to replace Dippy. “Moving away from using casts, putting the actual specimens into the space, puts it into a context,” he tells me, as we walk back through the museum’s halls. “It breaks down the barriers between the behind-the-scenes work of the scientists and what goes on in the gallery . . . . It’s about making people realise that science really is for everyone.”

Hintze Hall reopens with the blue whale skeleton, along with the exhibition “Whales: Beneath the Surface”, on Friday 14 July 2017.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 17 November 2008 issue of the New Statesman, Obamania