What Reporting Combat Reveals About You

When a situation is extremely difficult, often one keeps filming. It’s not possible to take on board entirely what’s going on. When it comes back to you — when it really sinks in — is when you have quiet time afterwards. Then you can reflect on what’s happened. That may be a ten-minute break in a firefight, or it may be on the long walk home.

Living in a prosperous western European country, it is hard to test the limits of your endurance. To really see how far you can go. Although driving around London can be taxing, it doesn’t really take you to the edge of your ability.

Working in an environment like Liberia, Afghanistan or Kosovo takes you to the edge of your experience. It tests you. And you can come out of it having a much clearer understanding of what your abilities are as a journalist, and as a human being.

While I was working in Liberia there were days when I filmed some very unpalatable things. I would lie in my bed at night and replay what had happened, and evaluate how it affected me. Whether it was going to be something I would be able to come through emotionally, or if the impact would prevent me from continuing to tell the story. I don’t want this to sound self-indulgent — but the nature of working in Liberia was so extreme that it raised questions about my capacity to keep working.

But situations that are the most dangerous are probably the most personally revealing. Part of telling the story is finding out what your limitations and abilities are to be able to tell that story. Everyone has their own breaking point.

Although there was a period when I finally reached mine physically, I did not feel that it was undermining my ability as a journalist. In fact, it was augmenting it. I was a witness to extremely brutal acts. But those acts were a fundamental and integral part of the story. It would not be possible to tell the real story of what was going on in Liberia without having witnessed and recorded what happened on the ground. So, my determination to carry on with the story was a determination to tell the story.

There is a certain amount of desensitisation that takes place. The first time you witness horrific things, they are difficult to digest, but, the more you are exposed to it, the easier it becomes.

This is only theoretically, because although your impulses and reactions may change fractionally, in fact it gets harder. You become very good at putting filters and screens in front of how you react personally.

Am I a war junkie? I am hesitant to accept other people’s labels for what I do — and what other people in the profession do. Some people would describe themselves as war junkies or adrenaline addicts. There are reasons for that and I agree with that up to a certain point, but we do have choices.

Professionally speaking, I think journalists should do what they are good at and what they feel comfortable doing. I don’t choose to work in these areas because they are areas of conflict. I choose them because of the stories that these situations tell about the people involved. And, there are a limited number of journalists who are prepared to tell such stories — for good reasons.

I think there have been periods in my life where I suffered from post traumatic stress reaction, but I see it as a normal human response to witnessing suffering or being in a hostile environment. Not everyone suffers from stress reaction and that’s fine. It doesn’t mean you are abnormal if you don’t suffer from the effects, but it also means you are not abnormal if you do.

When I came back from Liberia, I went through the antithesis of the Liberian environment. A couple of days after my return from working in jungle conditions, I went to a wedding of a friend who works in the fashion industry. I found being surrounded by models, in a glitter ‘party’ atmosphere, very strange. Although it was lovely, I found it hard to settle back into that. It’s difficult to congratulate the bride when shortly before you were watching someone have their heart cut out.

It is also very difficult to maintain relationships and friendships. It can make you rather autonomous, or cut off from a steady social base. So often you end up spending periods of time alone, or in the company of people you do not really know that well.

Personally, my work has compromised relationships. It is difficult for people who don’t work in the industry to really grasp what happens to me. For instance, when I came back from a long trip covering a conflict in Eritrea, my partner at the time was concerned that the washing machine had broken down. Yes, of course, it had to be fixed, but at the time, what I really wanted to do was to get drunk — or be by myself.

It is difficult for people who don’t work in these environments to understand that one has a life there. There are people who you know; and whole communities of journalists. You strike up very strong, immediate and intense friendships with people in the area, and there can be a strong sense of camaraderie between the journalists. It is a sense of a network you belong to. When you come back to London, that evaporates almost overnight, and it can leave you feeling bereaved.