History offers hope for the future of an independent military newspaper

On Aug. 21, the Pentagon abruptly terminated Max Lederer, Erik Slavin and Lara Korte, the publisher, editor-in-chief and Middle East correspondent for the military newspaper, Stars and Stripes.

The Department of Defense justified the firings on the vague grounds of “insubordination,” but in a recent interview, Korte pointed to remarks that the journalists made in a July 5 CBS News segment as the cause for their termination.

In the interview, Korte had bluntly stated, “I’m working for Stars and Stripes. Not for the Pentagon, not for any administration, not for any policymaker, I am here to cover the military community.” Her notice of termination highlighted these comments. Similarly, Slavin’s notice of termination singled out that he had pledged that a demand from the military not to publish a “perfectly accurate story” would constitute a “red line.”

Though abrupt, the firings are simply the latest development in an intensifying battle between the Department of Defense and Stars and Stripes’ journalists, who seek to maintain the paper’s editorial independence. In January 2026, the Pentagon announced that it would reform the outlet by removing “woke distractions” and Associated Press reprints. In April, the DOD fired Jacqueline Smith, the paper’s ombudsman.

With Lederer and Slavin removed, the administration has installed Navy Captain William Urban — a “communication professional” with no formal journalism experience — as deputy publisher.

Collectively, the Pentagon’s recent moves have constituted an aggressive attack on the editorial integrity of Stars and Stripes; Urban’s appointment does not bode well for the newspaper’s independence. Yet, history suggests that the fight isn’t over. In the past, Stars and Stripes reporters and American troops have checked the Pentagon’s interference by drawing the public’s attention to military overreach and heightened censorship.

Guy T. Viskniskki, a U.S. Army Officer and member of the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF), established Stars and Stripes during World War I. General John J. Pershing, the commanding general of the (AEF), quickly endorsed the new publication. In 1918, he issued a directive ordering that military officials abstain from interfering with the paper. This order, however, proved difficult to enforce.

Though Congress authorized funding for the publication, it has always been housed within the DOD, giving the Pentagon the ability to interfere and exert authority over Stars and Stripes. Consequently, throughout its long history, the newspaper has intermittently struggled against military interference. The unpopularity of the Vietnam War brought frictions between the paper and the military to a breaking point.

In the late 1960s, military officials attempted to use the Military Assistance Command, Vietnam’s Office of Information (M.A.C.O.I.) to pressure Stars and Stripes reporters into softening stories or shelving them entirely. When the paper ignored these “suggestions,” the relationship between the military command and Stars and Stripes journalists grew tense. One military official infamously labeled the newspaper the “Hanoi Herald” — a reference to its frequently unfavorable combat reports.

To cut down on the unflattering coverage, the military distanced itself from the journalists; reporters were excluded from news briefings and left in the dark about visits from prominent politicians (including President Richard Nixon, who made a surprise visit to South Vietnam in July 1969).

Events took a turn for the worse when the paper’s editor — Colonel Peter Sweers — retired and was replaced by the pro-M.A.C.O.I. Colonel William Koch. Sweers had led a team of highly educated civilian and military reporters, many of whom had professional journalism experience and were committed to preserving journalistic integrity.

Under Koch, however, Stars and Stripes’ policies changed significantly. The new editor forced reporters to wear military uniforms, a change that identified them as enlisted men to higher-ups, thus reinforcing military hierarchies. Additionally, Koch moved the paper’s news bureau out of Saigon to a remote location, effectively removing the journalists from the center of the action, and encouraged his reporters to focus on features, not news stories. Military directives, such as the “Let’s Say It Right” policy, forced reporters to replace straightforward language with euphemisms — “Viet Cong tax collectors became extortionists and search-and-destroy missions became search-and-clear missions.”

Yet, as the military exerted more power over Stars and Stripes, American troops began pushing back. In October 1969, Private David Dugger, a 21-year-old rifleman from Georgia, told the New York Times, “They’re just not telling it like it is.” Dugger complained that “[l]ots of times we’ve been kicked around by Charlie [the Viet Cong]. But it always comes out sounding like nothing more than a skirmish after the editors are through with it.”

A few months later, in April 1970, Robert Hodierne — a recently returned Army veteran and a former reporter for Stars and Stripes — published a story in the New York Times chronicling the deterioration of the newspaper’s independence. While it had once been “the one place that GIs could sometimes read about the shooting, bleeding, bombing, gassing, dying, and killing [of the war],” Hodierne wrote, the paper was no longer a reliable source of news.

The news report quoted Pat Luminello, Stars and Stripes’ civilian bureau chief, who lamented that the military clearly wanted “a pap sheet in which they could air their views and prevent even a hint that all was not wine and roses on the war front.” When news of Hodierne’s piece reached military officials, Koch promptly terminated Luminello, ushering in a period of heightened censorship for Stars and Stripes.

The firing ignited another round of controversy. That month, the GI-produced, underground-style magazine Grunt Free Press weighed in. In an editorial titled “Should the Troops Get All the News?” the magazine invited GIs to debate the issue. Voicing the “Yes” side, one GI posed a salient question: “If students can tell college presidents the curriculum is lousy and irrelevant, if civil rights marchers can demand more integration, then why shouldn’t a young soldier be allowed enough information to evaluate his establishment, the military?”

The 1970 censorship episode ended inconclusively. After his firing, Luminello reached out to the House’s freedom of information subcommittee with a five-page list chronicling the military’s various attempts to censor Stars and Stripes. While the subcommittee didn’t force any changes, that didn’t deter the champions of an independent Stars and Stripes.

Two years later, Sweers, the retired editor, proposed instituting a civilian review board to monitor and check military oversteps. “The chief editor at PS&S,” Sweers explained, “would then know his performance would be regularly examined by a group of leading professionals whose opinions would carry weight with Congress.”

Congress didn’t immediately adopt Sweers’ recommendation, but over time, the demands of Luminello, Sweers, the troops and subsequent Stars and Stripes reporters and service members paid off. In 1991, Congress created the position of ombudsman for the newspaper. The ombudsman was tasked with monitoring the paper’s editorial independence and reporting concerns to Congress. Since the April firing of Smith, however, the position has remained vacant.

Today, the question posed by Grunt Free Press in 1970 remains unanswered. Stars and Stripes is a military newspaper intended to give the troops access to the very rights they fight to defend — including their right to a free and independent press. Yet, recurring episodes of heightened censorship, from the Vietnam era to the present day, prove that this freedom is fragile.

The escalating efforts seem to suggest that Stars and Stripes’ future is bleak. Yet, hope can be found by looking at the response of employees and troops who didn’t back down during the Vietnam War and subsequent periods of military censorship.

These individuals brought the story of Pentagon interference to the public’s attention and pushed for Congress to make tangible changes to safeguard the newspaper’s independence. Although it took years of pushing, eventually these efforts resulted in the creation of the ombudsman role. It was a reminder that, when troops and journalists resist censorship, Stars and Stripes can regain its independence, even if it’s a slow process.

Addison M. Jensen is an assistant professor of history at Montana State University. She is currently at work on a monograph titled, “News from ‘The World’: Media, Counterculture, and the American Military in Vietnam,” which uses media and popular culture to examine the experiences of American service members alongside their awareness of the stateside countercultural movements of the era.

Made by History takes readers beyond the headlines with articles written and edited by professional historians. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of The Inquirer.