If the overall effect was of a few episodes of The West Wing, that in itself is illuminating. On the one hand, the insiders at No 10 are reported to be fans of the show, in which politicians are portrayed (by good-looking actors) to be serious, sane, sagacious and sexy. On the other hand, observers of politicians at work, even if they are hidden away from the gaze of the general public, need to remind themselves that they are always watching a performance. A politician's private moments are exactly that: private.

So Sir Peter, diligent observer that he undoubtedly is, could see only what he was required to see, because nothing else was actually visible. If not exactly one of them, he was professionally in the same position as those reporters embedded with the American and British forces in and around Iraq: given privileged access to one aspect of the war, but prevented from inquiring too deeply into it. As the BBC's Tim Franks reports in this issue, the embeds were expected, in the words of a high-ranking army officer, to be part of the military's “information operations”. The Coalition wanted a “particular message delivered to particular audiences”, both in the UK and in Iraq, and another senior officer told Franks: “We are in the business of news management. We are not interested in the anti-war view.”

The silence of many editors on this subject indicates, clearly, that they were unconcerned by such manipulation. What mattered most was quantity of copy and conformation with the paper's policy. The unilaterals who refused, or were not invited, to come inside the Coalition tent were also, as is usual with war, unable to see the big picture (although the big picture is not available even to the generals, and may never become visible at all). But the unilaterals had the satisfaction that they had not been corralled, even if it is unlikely they felt this made up for the risks they were taking as independent operators. “War is a series of catastrophes which result in victory,” claimed Georges Clemenceau, Prime Minister of France, in 1918. There are representatives of the media who would vouch that this certainly was the case in Iraq; or, in the case of some, would do so had they survived the catastrophes. The BJR and the media industries should pay tribute to the courage and the sacrifice of those who did not. The casualty level among media people during this short war has been horribly and disproportionately high: 15 deaths and two more missing, presumed killed.

The embedded media people deserve respect, too: no amount of surrounding soldiery and armour plate can make war safe or comfortable. But the difference in the level of risk between them and the unilaterals is made clear in Franks's piece and in Phillip Knightley's devastating report, also in this issue. To the U.S. military and their political masters, control of the media and their messages is more important than lives.

The awkward habit

The way to avoid the awkward habit news has of running faster than the spin-doctors is for the spin-doctors to construct the news. The staging of events for the benefit of reporters and cameras has now developed to far more sophisticated levels than when Joe Rosenthal of the Associated Press was called on to recreate the scene known as Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima on 19 February, 1945. A U.S. Marines staff sergeant, Louis Lowery, had photographed the actual event some hours earlier, but a grenade thrown by a Japanese defender had thrown him off his feet, wrecked his cameras and destroyed the flag. Rosenthal was provided with a bigger flag and brought his own professional eye for composition. Although he is said to have preferred other pictures he took in the campaign, Raising the Flag was published around the world, and earned him a Pulitzer Prize and lasting fame – Martin Rowson has contributed to the image's endurance with his cover illustration for this issue of the BJR. Rosenthal's photograph did its job for the war effort, as did the Soviet photographer Yevgeny Khaldei's picture of two Red Army soldiers raising their flag on the roof of the Reichstag – an event that in reality happened during the hours of darkness.

Soldiers and politicians, however complex their own activities and thoughts, prefer to use symbols rather than explanations when dealing with the public. So the toppling of a statue of Saddam Hussein, conveniently sited within camera range of the Palestine Hotel filled with media guests, received major exposure in every newspaper or television station that was actually covering the war.

Let Sir Peter report Tony Blair's reaction: “ ‘It's just one statue,' says the Prime Minister. ‘I don't know what all the fuss is about.' ” But Stothard is alongside him to write: “Yet this is V.I. day, whether the intelligence chiefs, the generals, the diplomats and the Prime Minister like it or not.” Neatly contextualised, Sir Peter.