Similarly, the 1991 Gulf war had little to do with getting Iraqi soldiers out of Kuwait. It had little to do with defending Saudi Arabia against an Iraqi invasion, protecting the oil supplies or even getting rid of Saddam Hussein. He was supported by the élites of the East and West in the 1980s and his regime remains to this day – only strengthened following years of bombings and sanctions. And since the US-led coalition forces faced no credible enemy in 1991, the conflict was hardly "warfare" as commonly understood. When in January and February 1991, Iraqi soldiers were deserting in droves and succumbing to one slaughter after another, Fleet Street took its cue from the politicians and predicted the largest ground battle since the Second World War. Images of enormous Iraqi defences filled the media. In the end there was nothing more than a walkover, a rout. A barbaric slaughter buried beneath the fiction of heroic warfare.

In fact, a major war needed to be constructed – to be seen to be fought and won – in large part so that the US élites could eradicate the trauma of the Vietnam defeat from their collective memory. The first words President Bush proclaimed after the massacres were: "By God, we’ve kicked the Vietnam syndrome once and for all".

A hastily constructed "Saddam Hussein" suddenly appeared as the perfect enemy against whom the perfect Big War could be waged. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the massively-resourced military-industrial complex was facing a potential crisis and desperate to find a new enemy. Britain’s Falklands adventure of 1982 over an insignificant group of islands populated largely by penguins was transformed into a heroic spectacle by a compliant media. It was to set an important precedent for a series of quickie, risk-free, media-hyped attacks by the US on puny Third World countries – their leaders demonised, their powers grossly exaggerated. "Communists" in Grenada (1983), "mad dog" Col Gadaffi in Libya (1986) and "evil, drug-trafficker" General Noriega in Panama (1989) were all called up as "enemies" but they were relatively minor figures. None could compare to a demonised "Saddam Hussein" who has remained the focus of the propaganda onslaught during a series of US-led attacks on Iraq since 1991.

Culmination

In contrast to the quickie attacks of the 1980s the Gulf "war" lasted 42 days. In fact, it was artificially extended, not through any massive conspiracy but as the logical outcome of a series of complex military, industrial, social and political factors, to provide all the arms of a grossly over-resourced military machine (airforce, army, satellites, marines, navy, intelligence) built up during the Cold War with a "piece of the action". The press hyped the carnage with superlatives. Christopher Bellamy, in The Independent of 25 February 1991, was typical. The battle for Kuwait, he said, was "awe inspiring and brilliant", combining "geometrical simplicity of conception" with a "complexity of execution". It was nothing of the kind. Indeed, the ground troops were not there for any military/strategic purpose; they faced only a mass of defenceless conscripts desperate to desert. The ground troops were there for a symbolic purpose – to reinforce the illusion of "bigness".

Indeed, if NATO ground troops had ever been sent in to eject Serb forces from Kosovo it would have been a merely symbolic deployment - a last ditch attempt to maintain the image of NATO as a necessary fighting force. Korea, the Bay of Pigs, Vietnam, the Lebanon and most recently Somalia represent a series of military disasters for the US, paradoxically the most powerful military power of all times. The ground troops option has succeeded in only one post-1945 major operation – the Gulf in 1991. Significantly, US/UK leaders planned an archetypal "new militarist" attack on Serbia: quick, risk-free and from the air. It has all gone wrong. And as the "war" continued, the lies on which it has been based (such as over "precision" bombing) increasingly difficult to disguise. The deployment of ground troops, urged on by virtually all Fleet Street editorial writers soon after the bombing of Belgrade began on March 24 (with only the Independent on Sunday daring to stand outside the pro-war consensus), has never been considered a feasible military option by US planners.

Central to the construction of the myth of new militarist "warfare" is the demonisation of the enemy leader. After the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in August 1990, the personality of a mythical Saddam Hussein (the "new Hitler" the "butcher of Baghdad" the "nuclear, mad monster") became the prime focus of press coverage. Hussein, in effect, became Iraq. Similarly, in 1999, Milosevic has been suddenly transformed into Global Enemy no. 1. Milosevic is Serbia. In this way, the human interest bias which is deeply rooted in journalists’ culture, serves a crucial propaganda function, simplifying an enormously complex history, seriously distorting the representation of the conflict and drawing attention away from other more significant social, political and economic factors.

Blame

Similarly, during the Balkan war politicians and press have all focused on "Milosevic" rather than "Yugoslavia" or "Serbia" as the enemy. Certainly the role of the President of Yugoslavia (and his wife and other close political associates) in fomenting Serb nationalism and the oppression of the Albanian Kosovars has been significant. But the demonisation serves again to simplify an enormously complex historical process, draws attention away from the responsibility of the West in fuelling nationalisms in the Balkans and directs all blame for any atrocity away from the US-led forces. Thus, following the US "mistaken" attack on a convoy of refugees, the press and politicians were quick to put all the blame on Milosevic. The Serbian regime forced the removal of the Albanian Kosovars as a clear act of war in response to the NATO bombing. Yet the constant bombardment of images and reports from the refugee camps has also been a deliberate feature of the Western propaganda offensive, reinforcing the representation of "Milosevic" as an "evil, powerful, credible enemy". All wars create refugees. The Gulf war of 1991, for instance, created 1.8 million. Yet in that instance, the propaganda offensive marginalised their terrible plight until the focus momentarily fell on the Kurds in the immediate aftermath of the massacres.

It becomes clear that the demonisation process is not an inevitable, natural feature of journalistic routines: the emphasis shifts according to specific propaganda requirements. Thus, the focus on Milosevic as the evil demon behind the Balkan tragedy only really began in earnest as the NATO bombers prepared to attack Belgrade on March 24, Similarly before the Kuwait invasion of 2 August 1990, the principal bogeyman in the Middle East for the mainstream press was Iran. During the Iran-Iraq war (1980 - 1988) Iraq was, in general, referred to simply as "Iraq" or "Baghdad". As significant sections of the West tilted towards Iraq Saddam Hussein was covered by the media in favourable terms. Even the press coverage of the chemical bombing of Kurds in Halabja on 16 March 1988 was notable for its comparative restraint. Yet more than 5,000 civilians were killed and another 7,000 maimed for life. Little blame was levelled personally at Saddam Hussein for the atrocity. But the press did give considerable prominence to US claims that Iran was also responsible for the chemical attacks. Was this mere US-government inspired misinformation since Iraq was then a close ally?

Predictably, the outline deal to end the bombing of Serbia, agreed by the Yugoslav parliament on 3 June, was hailed by politicians and press as a stunning victory for US air power. It was nothing of the kind. Since the "war" had been manufactured (with no NATO combat deaths but thousands on the "enemy" side) any claims of victory were mere rhetoric hiding the reality of hi-tech barbarism. At the same time the press was quick to label "winners" and "losers" in the conflict. But when the language of war – uttered by journalists safe in their Fleet Street bunkers – comes to so pollute the culture of journalism we are all left losers.