The Silence in the Pentagon - The Departure of the Journalists

It began unremarkably, almost like a footnote. Yet what happened on Wednesday in Washington was a quiet tremor. Dozens of reporters turned in their access badges and left the Pentagon - in protest against new government regulations that would restrict their work in the future. No loud outcry, no signs, just the sound of badges hitting metal tables and the soft closing of heavy doors. See also our article: "Empty Halls, Full Control - How the Pentagon Tried to Lock Up the Press and Nobody Signed" at the link: https://kaizen-blog.org/en/leere-flure-volle-kontrolle-wie-das-pentagon-die-presse-einsperren-wollte-und-keiner-unterschreibt/

In the hours before, many had cleared out their small offices. Drawers, files, notes - everything had to go. Even the clock on the wall was taken down because, as a spokesman emphasized, it was not government property. As orderly as the withdrawal was, it was just as symbolic: the Pentagon is losing not only its press but also its memory. Thus an era comes to an end. For decades, the presence of independent reporters in the Pentagon was considered a self-evident element of American democracy. They attended briefings, asked questions, documented decisions - they were the eyes and ears of a public that wanted to know what was happening in the halls of power. Now that access is being replaced by administrative "new regulations" whose true purpose is concealment.

Officially, it is said that the measures serve national security. Unofficially, it is about control - about deciding what may still be asked, filmed, and published. Those who refuse to accept signed confidentiality clauses and new reporting obligations lose the right to enter the heart of American defense policy. The consequences extend far beyond Washington. With every press badge lost, the space for transparency shrinks - and the power of those who wish to decide undisturbed grows. What is happening in the Pentagon today may become the model for other agencies tomorrow. Democracy rarely ends with a bang. It usually begins its silence where questions can no longer be asked.