summer-2003-Part 2-live - Nieman Foundation - Harvard University

Journalist’s Tradefound the hometown hero. You foundthe refugees from your ethnic groupswho had been liberated or had beencruelly treated. You documented theperfidious crimes of the enemy. Yougave it a structure and a narrative thatwar often doesn’t have—a kind of coherency.You made it mythic. The bestbook on this is Philip Knightley’s “TheFirst Casualty,” where he goes from theCrimean War all the way up throughVietnam, and I think [makes] a prettydamning case to show that the pressconsiders itself part of the war effort.You certainly see this now with the flaglapel pins of the news announcers andthis gushing kind of excitement thatyou see on CNN.It’s important to remember that oneof the first things that’s taken from usin wartime is language. The state hijackslanguage. We speak in the clichésand aphorisms and the jingoism that’shanded to us by the state. We’re doingthat now: “The War on Terror.” “ShowdownWith Iraq.” “Countdown.” Oncethey take from you the ability to speak,they make it very difficult for you tothink and express whatever disquiet itis that you feel.Often in Bosnia, in Mostar, the trenchlines between the Muslims and theCroats were [only] a few yards [apart].They would talk to each other at night.They’d grown up together. They’d goneto school together. They played together.They’d gone to each other’sweddings. Yet they were killing eachother all day long. It had a kind ofabsurdity to it. When you asked soldiersthere to try and express it, youcould sense the disquiet. But they didn’thave the vocabulary by which to speak.The fact is, mythic war [reporting]sells newspapers—that’s how WilliamRandolph Hearst built his empire—and it boosts ratings. Real-world reportingdoesn’t. In the end, it’s about abusiness, especially when we see thecomplete, almost total corruption, inmy mind, of commercial broadcastmedia. Although I was not part of thepool system and was out on my own—which perhaps allowed me to writearticles that were somewhat more critical—Istill tended to write stories thatfit that kind of narrative.Firefights are very confusing. Mostof the time you don’t know what’sgoing on. You try, once it’s over, tomake it a story in your head—How amI going to explain it?—because it doesn’treally have any coherency. That is thevery moment of the creation of myth.… When you go back and read whatMartha Gellhorn did in the SpanishCivil War, what many reporters did inmost conflicts is they ignored what wasconvenient to ignore. In almost everywar, the press is part of the problem.Another question was asked about theembedding of reporters into militaryunits.Hedges: News organizations shouldembed. I just don’t have the constitutionfor it. I don’t like press buses. Idon’t like being driven around. Icouldn’t do it, personally. But I thinkthat it should be done. The problem isthat, from everything I can tell from thecoverage in Afghanistan, if you’re agood little boy and girl, and you go outand do what you’re told, you’re okay.But the moment you get out and doindependent reporting, you pay a heavyprice. My colleague, Doug Struck ofThe Washington Post, was investigatinga bombing raid outside of Kandaharthat had killed apparently a large numberof civilians. He was stopped by U.S.soldiers, had a gun pointed to his head,was made to lie down on the ground,and was told that if he went any further,he would be shot. This administrationhas made it clear they cannotguarantee the safety of reporters andtell us the El Rashid Hotel in Baghdadwhere reporters stay is a legitimatetarget. A friend of mine works for theBBC. I spoke with her on Sunday. She’sleaving very soon. She said that theBBC was told by the Pentagon that, ifthey uplinked to their satellite fromBaghdad, they would be considered bythe U.S. military a target ….You have to remember that, in thePersian Gulf War, there were only 80journalists in the pool system. Whenthe military went back and did a studyof how they handled the press, one ofthe main critiques they made of themselveswas that they failed to get out themessage they wanted. Now, you havesupposedly 500 reporters embedded.They’re going through these Boy ScoutJamboree sessions, you know, wherethey get to play soldier for a week andsort of bond with the unit. Of course,everybody has to do a story about it,which is great press for the military.They’re so dependent on the military.When you read the rules, it’s prettyclear that if they don’t like you, you’reout. If things go horribly wrong—Iknow from the Persian Gulf War—they’re not going to be driving you in aHumvee to see it. It’s just not going tohappen.So we’re going to get a completelysanitized version of the war. It’s goingto be packaged and presented. Whenthings go wrong, we’re not going tosee it. Independent reporters, who alwaysconstitute about 10 percent ofthe reporting group, are going to havea really tough time. …Louise Nissen, Nieman Fellow:Having experienced all the atrocitiesyou describe in your book and havinganalyzed how many of your colleaguejournalists and photographers wereaddicted to war, what kept you goingback? What were you trying to accomplishor prove?Hedges: I don’t [keep going back].I went to Gaza, and I stopped. I meanthat was it. I realized I had to stop. It’snot easy to stop because that was myidentity: I was a war correspondent. Iwas a good war correspondent. It gaveme my cachet. It was an adrenalinerush. I know people in Kosovo I coveredthe war with in El Salvador. I don’tsee them anymore. It was a very difficulttransition, not made any easier bythe institution I work for. It was painfuland hard and humbling. In the end, itmade me a better person and a healthierperson. But it was a conscious decision.We live in war, and it’s all aboutspeed. I was on a platform the otherday and watched the Acela [train] goby. I felt that sort of catch inside. Ialmost had to stop myself from wantingto live at that kind of pace again. Ithink it’s always there. But in the endit’s a very unhealthy way to live. … ■86 Nieman Reports / Summer 2003