Editor's Note: Mickey Z (Michael Zezima) is the author of Saving Private Power: The Hidden History of "The Good War" (Soft Skull Press, 2000). He also contributed a chapter called "Saving Private Power" to You Are Being Lied To (New York: Disinfo Books, 2001), edited by Russ Kick.

I define a saint as a person who behaves decently in an indecent society.
~~ Kurt Vonnegut

As I said in the first installment of this series, any human we collectively venerate as a "hero" is typically the product of disinformation, historical distortion, or media hype. Here are two more sacred cows under the microscope. Perhaps this will encourage you to deconstruct other legends on your own.

Close Encounters

Myth: Sir Steven Spielberg is a really good guy . . . and courageous, too.

The zillionaire director, knighted by the Queen, is customarily portrayed as a good guy; even an intrepid Hollywood "liberal," but thanks to CounterPunch, we've learned that perhaps he's more like a Jurassic Park T-Rex than a lovable little E.T.

"When Spielberg accepted his Oscar on behalf of the six million for Schindler's List he pledged not to retain a dime of the profits from the movie for personal enrichment," the political newsletter reported. The beloved director claimed that the money (more than $300 million earned worldwide) went directly into his Survivors of the Shoah: Visual History Foundation.

"Yet," the editors of CounterPunch continued, "a review of the foundation's IRS filings reveals that Spielberg's Shoah Project was seeded with less than $30 million and much of that money had come from outside sources, not the proceeds of Schindler's List."

To further muddle matters, Spielberg then went begging to Congress in 1996 and was granted a cool million for his "extraordinary work."

Senator Arlen Spector handed him the check, saying that he "had performed a priceless service to history and humanity." Spector obviously hadn't noticed that, according to Mr. Spielberg, not only wasn't there a single Jew in Poland taller than Mr. Schindler, but that there was also no room in the Oscar (Oskar?) winning film for an accurate depiction of the depth of the role played by U.S.-supported German businessmen in perpetrating the slaughter.

What about Spielberg's other bold message movie, Amistad? Well, again we turn to CounterPunch (December 1-15, 1997). The flick, which canonizes John Quincy Adams, author of the Monroe Doctrine, tells the story of a slave ship that was commandeered by the human "cargo" and eventually landed in New Haven, Connecticut.

"Today," says CounterPunch, "New Haven is 40 percent black and the seventh poorest city in the U. S. The Amistad story is well-known in the city, which named a central square after Joseph Cinque, the leader of the slave revolt."

Regardless, Dreamworks (saintly Steve's film company) refused to allow Amistad to be shown in at New Haven's one downtown theater because it was independently owned and Spielberg had awarded sole distribution rights to a chain located in the affluent white suburbs. But he did arrange for a special sneak preview of Amistad at Yale University.

Ironically, as a reader of CounterPunch later revealed, the Amistad did not actually dock in New Haven. The renowned ship was brought to New London, "a much smaller city but just as poor and with a large minority population," the reader explained.

As for Spielberg¹s World War II spectacle, Saving Private Ryan, I don't even want to get started. But you might choose to peruse my recent book, Saving Private Power for more on the realities of D-Day and "The Good War."

The Saint That Ain't

Myth: Mother Teresa did a lot to help the poor.

Sure, this a fairly exalted sacred cow but, before anyone gets defensive, I¹ll submit the following facts and leave the verdict to you:

In 1981, Mother Teresa told Michéle Duvalier, wife of the sanguinary Haitian dictator Baby Doc Duvalier, that she (Duvalier) was "someone who feels, who knows, who wishes to demonstrate her love not only with words but also with concrete and tangible actions . . . the country vibrates with your life work."

Dr. Robin Fox, editor of The Lancet, visited Mother Teresa's operation in Calcutta, and had this to say:

"Investigations, I was told, are seldom permissible . . Mother Teresa prefers providence to planning . . [H]ow competent are the sisters at managing pain? On a short visit, I could not judge the power of their spiritual approach, but I was disturbed to learn that the formulary includes no strong analgesics. Along with the neglect of diagnosis, the lack of good analgesia marks Mother Teresa's approach as clearly separate from the hospice movement. I know which I prefer." As journalist Christopher Hitchens reminds us, "Mother Teresa's global income (was) more than enough to outfit several first-class clinics."

One source of that income is when The Saint received over one million dollars from convicted Savings & Loan thief, Charles Keating. "In return," Hitchens writes, "she sent a personal plea for Keating's clemency to the trial judge."

What was Mother Teresa's counsel when a Union Carbide chemical spill killed thousands in Bhopal, India? "Forgive, forgive, forgive."

I could go on and on, but instead, I'll conclude with an informative quote:

"I think it is very beautiful for the poor to accept their lot . . . I think the world is being much helped by the suffering of the poor people."

No, this wasn't something uttered by Kissinger, Hillary, or some millionaire CEO. It was directly from the mouth of The Saint herself.