Tucker is No Duranty
The Left loves to project. Just look at it now. “Tucker Carlson is a traitor.” “Tucker Carlson hates America.” The nonsense is knee-deep.
But this isn’t the first time a journalist has traveled to Russia to report. In fact, nearly a century ago, a son-of-a-bitch named Walter Duranty became – who could’ve guessed it? – The New York Times Moscow bureau chief.
Duranty, God rot him, will be unfamiliar to many today.
But he was a man we now know stumped for Uncle Joe Stalin and helped hide a genuine government-induced catastrophe: the Holomodor.
To suggest that Tucker Carlson is doing the same for Putin demonstrates not just a lack of historical knowledge but an emotional leap that insults Ukrainians themselves.
Who was Duranty? Let me tell you about this bastard.
A Stain on the Fabric of Journalism
In the annals of journalism, few names elicit as much controversy and disdain as Walter Duranty.
Once a revered correspondent for The New York Times during the early 20th century, Duranty has become synonymous with journalistic malpractice, bias, and the perils of sacrificing truth to political agendas.
The Rise of Duranty
Walter Duranty carved out a niche for himself as The New York Times’ Moscow bureau chief in the 1920s and 1930s, a period rife with seismic shifts on the global stage.
The Bolshevik Revolution had ushered in the Soviet era, promising a utopian socialist state but delivering a regime underpinned by terror, repression, and mass murder.
Duranty, with his direct line to the Soviet elite, including Stalin himself, became the West’s key informant on Soviet affairs.
His reporting from the Soviet Union won him the Pulitzer Prize in 1932, ostensibly for his “dispassionate interpretive reporting of the news from Russia.” However, beneath the veneer of dispassionate reporting, a more sinister reality lurked.
Duranty’s writings were far from unbiased accounts; instead, they were egregious examples of journalistic malfeasance that would eventually lead to a widespread reassessment of his legacy.
Hiding the Holodomor
Duranty’s fall from grace centers on his coverage of the Ukrainian famine of 1932-1933, known as the Holodomor.
This government-made catastrophe, engineered by Stalin’s policies of forced collectivization, led to the deaths of millions of Ukrainians. Yet, Duranty’s dispatches painted a markedly different picture of progress and optimism in the face of minor difficulties.
“Reports of a famine in Russia are mostly exaggeration,” Duranty famously declared, even as evidence to the contrary mounted. His denial and minimization of the Holodomor served Soviet propaganda well, helping to obscure one of the 20th century’s greatest atrocities from the international community’s eyes.
His reports are considered a key reason why the United States recognized the government of the Soviet Union.
Why Duranty’s Influence Was So Detrimental
Duranty’s reporting did not just mislead readers; it actively contributed to the Soviet regime’s ability to carry out its repressive policies with impunity.
His stature and the platform The New York Times afforded him lent credibility to Stalin’s government and directly influenced Western perception and policy towards the Soviet Union.
The dangers of Duranty’s brand of journalism are manifold.
First, it underscores the importance of integrity and truth in reporting. Duranty sacrificed these principles out of personal ambition, ideological sympathy, or both.
Second, his work highlights the risks of access journalism, where close relationships with sources come at the expense of objectivity and critical scrutiny.
Last, Duranty’s legacy is a cautionary tale about the power of media to shape narratives and, by extension, history itself.
Reflections for Today’s Journalists
In an era where accusations of “fake news” and media bias are rampant, Duranty’s story offers sobering lessons.
The responsibility of journalists to report truthfully and without undue influence is paramount.
The consequences of failing in this duty can be historically significant, shaping perceptions and policies with potentially dire implications.
Moreover, Duranty’s legacy reminds us of the need for critical media consumption. Readers must be discerning, questioning the sources of their information and the potential biases that may color reporting.
In an age of information overload, this critical stance is more important than ever.
Walter Duranty’s influence on journalism is a stark warning about the costs of forsaking journalistic integrity.
His reporting on the Soviet Union, especially the Holodomor, exemplifies the dangers of bias, misinformation, and manipulating the press by powerful interests.
An American journalist, Tucker Carlson, flew to Moscow to interview Russian President Vladimir Putin.
Because Putin won’t talk to anyone in the Anglosphere media.
Because he won’t get a fair shake.
If Carlson lobs grapefruits down Broadway and Putin hits them out of the park, then, okay, be mad. But if Carlson can create a meaningful dialogue and we can learn something from it, then that would be fantastic.
Duranty would blanch at this.