p]:text-cms-story-body-color-text clearfix”>
For more than half a century, Seymour Hersh has been asking the questions the powerful would rather not answer.
As one of America’s most relentless investigative reporters, he exposed the 1968 massacre of hundreds of Vietnamese civilians — including children and babies — by U.S. troops at My Lai; revealed the Nixon administration’s secret bombing of Cambodia and illegal wiretaps during Watergate; uncovered the CIA’s domestic spying and mind-control programs; and brought to light the torture of Iraqi prisoners at Abu Ghraib. Presidents and generals have dreaded seeing his byline. Editors have braced for the fallout.
But for all his zeal in exposing secrets, Hersh has never been comfortable turning the focus on himself. He’s spent a lifetime protecting his sources and guarding their confidences, not inviting scrutiny. At 88, he’s still very much a working reporter: sharp, skeptical and wary of being on the other side of the questions.
“I don’t psychoanalyze my sources,” he says by phone from Washington, D.C., where he has long been based. “And I don’t want you to psychoanalyze me either.”
Known for probing the inner workings of secrecy and dissent, director Poitras has spent her career chronicling those who challenge entrenched power. Her 2014 film, “Citizenfour,” which won the Academy Award for documentary feature, captured NSA contractor Edward Snowden during his exposure of the U.S. government’s mass surveillance program. Poitras’ 2022 “All the Beauty and the Bloodshed,” winner of the Venice Film Festival’s Golden Lion, follows artist Nan Goldin’s campaign to hold the Sackler family — owners of Purdue Pharma, maker of OxyContin — accountable for the opioid crisis. A founding board member of the Freedom of the Press Foundation, Poitras knows those risks firsthand; her reporting in Iraq landed her on a U.S. watch list in 2006, leading to repeat border detentions.
When Hersh finally agreed to let Poitras turn her camera on him, it didn’t come easily.
“She went for all of it,” he says. “Not just what I did, but why I do it and how it makes me feel. There was a subtle war going on from the earliest scenes. But she got away with it. She got me to talk about things on camera I didn’t think I ever would. She’s just smarter than I am — let’s put it that way.”
“Cover-Up” isn’t hagiography. It’s an unflinching study of how the machinery of American power hides its own wrongdoing, and of the reporter who’s spent a lifetime rooting it out. Drawing on roughly 7,000 archival materials — Hersh’s handwritten notes, letters, government documents, photographs and recorded interviews, painstakingly organized by producer and archivist Olivia Streisand — the film excavates a half-century of reporting and the evidence trail behind it.
Poitras shapes that material into something larger than a straight biography, tracing a cycle that runs through every era: exposure, denial and scapegoating that ends without true accountability.
“From the first time I approached Sy in 2005, I knew he’d be a great person to film, both for his personal story and as a way to talk about bigger issues,” Poitras, 61, says via video call from New York. “It’s about him, but it’s also about the country. I make counternarratives. Sy does counternarratives. We have some things in common. I make films about people who are in a historical moment trying to make change — Sy, Nan Goldin, Julian Assange, Edward Snowden — people who don’t accept the status quo.”
Documentary filmmaker Laura Poitras of “Cover-Up.”
(Jan Sturmann)
In opposition to that backdrop, “Cover-Up” feels much less like historical past than a warning concerning the current.
“This is different,” Hersh says. “It’s a real shot at the Constitution. This group learned from the failures of the [Jan. 6] mob attack and from relying on a vice president who wouldn’t go along. Now they’re planning further in advance. I don’t know if that means the Constitution will be shredded or just bent to their own use — I just know these are very serious times. And that’s why this movie has so much impact. It’s about other moments of crisis when we needed good reporting.”
Poitras takes viewers inside Hersh’s course of: the notebooks full of barely decipherable shorthand, the Rolodexes full of names and numbers, the lengthy calls coaxing sources to speak.
“We wanted to show how a story actually takes shape,” Poitras says. “The My Lai story began with a tip — not even a name — and Sy just kept going, putting together what happened. He could have stopped at Lt. Calley [Lt. William Calley, the Army officer convicted of murder for his role in the massacre] and moved on, but he needed to understand how it could happen: how soldiers could become mass murderers and what happened in the chain of command. That’s what he’s always done.”
That relentlessness made Hersh each important and exasperating to the establishments that revealed him. “Editors get tired of somebody who brings in a dead rat and drops it on the table and says, ‘I want to chase this story. It’s going to take longer, cost more money and everyone’s going to sue you,’” he says, with a wry, deadpan chunk.
He went on to ship a string of main scoops: greater than 40 front-page Watergate tales for the New York Instances, together with one revealing hush-money funds to the burglars; the publicity of the CIA’s unlawful home spying program, Operation CHAOS, which helped set off the landmark Church Committee investigations; and, on the New Yorker, the revelation of prisoner abuse at Abu Ghraib.
“Cover-Up” additionally turns inward, tracing the roots of Hersh’s ethical drive: the silence that hung over his immigrant household, the loss of life of his father when he was a youngster and the junior-college trainer who helped steer him from working at his household’s laundry to writing. “It was a friggin’ miracle that I found my way to journalism,” Hersh says within the movie.
In a single tense scene, Hersh, frightened that Poitras has uncovered an excessive amount of about his sources, tells her he’d wish to give up the movie. “You know too much about what I’m doing,” he says, earlier than resigning himself to proceed.
“Once he was in, he was 100% in,” Poitras says. “But those first shoots — especially when we opened his notebooks — he was freaking out. He’s protective of his sources and his family. I respected that, but it wouldn’t have been an honest portrait unless he talked about what really moves him.”
The movie additionally reveals the toll of that work and the partnership that has sustained him. In the course of the investigation into the My Lai atrocities, Hersh remembers, his spouse, Elizabeth — a psychoanalyst to whom he’s been married for greater than 60 years — helped preserve him from breaking down. “I would hear about [soldiers] throwing up 2-year-old kids and catching them on bayonets, and I had a 2-year-old,” he says within the movie.” I married the correct one that can calm me down and preserve me from going into whole despair.”
“Cover-Up” doesn’t draw back from Hersh’s missteps. The movie revisits two of probably the most contested moments in his profession: his entanglement with solid paperwork purporting to point out an affair between President Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe — paperwork he found had been pretend earlier than publishing his 1997 ebook, “The Dark Side of Camelot” — and his later reporting that questioned the Assad regime’s accountability for chemical-weapons assaults in Syria. For a journalist whose title lengthy stood for rigor, such lapses carried outsized weight.
“You can’t have a career without having stumbles or screwing up — that’s just part of life,” he tells me. “Laura wasn’t afraid to bring that up. And when I make a mistake, I know I’ll get hit — maybe out of proportion. But it’s a good system. You work with peers and if you screw up, they tell you. That’s the way it should be.”
The movie additionally provides overdue recognition to considered one of Hersh’s most vital however long-hidden sources: Camille Lo Sapio, who offered Hersh with pictures of the torture of detainees at Abu Ghraib. Recognized publicly for the primary time in “Cover-Up,” Lo Sapio stored her position secret for twenty years, even from her husband, fearing retaliation. Her photos, together with these first handed over by Military Specialist Joseph Darby, would assist set off the Pentagon’s inside Taguba Report, which confirmed widespread prisoner abuse by U.S. forces.
“It took a lot of courage,” Poitras says. “She’d been horrified by the photos, but it was a secret she kept for almost two decades. When we were setting up cameras in her home, she finally told her husband why we were there. She and Joseph Darby both took enormous risks.”
Even now, pushing 90, Hersh continues to be reporting. Within the movie, he’s proven on the telephone with a supply who has lately visited Gaza, listening to allegations concerning the concentrating on of civilians, together with youngsters — a narrative he’s continued to pursue along with his standard skepticism towards official narratives.
“The reporting on the agreement that was just made in Israel was way over the top,” Hersh says. “Bibi is never going to stop wanting to kill Hamas and he doesn’t care about the people in Gaza. There’s no way out for the Palestinians in Gaza right now. The only thing that came out of this was the release of the hostages for the Israelis. Everything else is going to be as bad as ever — and it’s really bad.”
For all that, his devotion to the work has by no means wavered. “It’s too complicated to get into why — I don’t know why,” he says. “It’s incredibly fun for me. I enjoy it. There are people in the CIA, in the State Department, in the White House, who believe in the Constitution. There are people who will talk to me about stuff, and I’m very careful about it, but it’s because they believe in the system too.”
It’s a religion not in authority or energy, however in those that preserve it trustworthy. “I love journalists,” Hersh says. “We’re comrades in arms against the bureaucracy. I always thought journalists were the most interesting people in the world.”
