Getting roughed up by thugs: the new normal?
Anderson Cooper was "roughed up by thugs" this week - as he posted on Twitter - and many now wonder if this is the new normal for journos.
By new normal I mean, any self-respecting scribe will earn his stripes traveling halfway across the world and not flinch if sent into rock-throwing range of a crazed Muslim brother or frantic eighty-year-old democracy-hungry doctor.
Maybe I'm a wimp, but I'll take my journalism work the way I would take any job: without putting my life in danger. I didn't become a cop or firewoman or President of the United States. I am a journalist. I am not required to put my life on the line in order to get to the story.
To see CNN and the New York Times and Fox News and whomever else jockeying for stories and standing space on the square over there in Cairo...well, it's just a little unsettling. More than a little.
There have always been war correspondents. And war photographers. These are noble professions -- but they stand apart from other types of journalism. Ten years ago it wasn't frowned upon to be a good, hardworking journalist who would refuse to put her life on the line.
Nowadays, with the 24-hour news cycle and everyone worrying what blogger will come and take her job away, well, journalists are going out on a limb - and then some.
I was saddened to see David Rohde's name on a news story from Egypt today. Having just read his wife's moving account of his kidnapping by al-Qaeda and emotional return, I figured he'd stay put forever. He'd learned his lesson.
What do I know?
I remember once leaving a message on my outgoing answering machine -- back in 2003 at the start of the Iraqi conflict -- stating that I was off to the Middle East to report. Please don't worry, I stated, and I wouldn't forget to write.
My brother took it seriously and was frantic.
"How could you do that to me? To the family?!" he shouted.
I thought it was funny. "What? You wouldn't honestly think I would do such a thing, would you?"
"I don't know - yeah?"
I thought a moment. It was a question I never forgot - and one that my profession is, more and more, answering on my behalf.
By new normal I mean, any self-respecting scribe will earn his stripes traveling halfway across the world and not flinch if sent into rock-throwing range of a crazed Muslim brother or frantic eighty-year-old democracy-hungry doctor.
Maybe I'm a wimp, but I'll take my journalism work the way I would take any job: without putting my life in danger. I didn't become a cop or firewoman or President of the United States. I am a journalist. I am not required to put my life on the line in order to get to the story.
To see CNN and the New York Times and Fox News and whomever else jockeying for stories and standing space on the square over there in Cairo...well, it's just a little unsettling. More than a little.
There have always been war correspondents. And war photographers. These are noble professions -- but they stand apart from other types of journalism. Ten years ago it wasn't frowned upon to be a good, hardworking journalist who would refuse to put her life on the line.
Nowadays, with the 24-hour news cycle and everyone worrying what blogger will come and take her job away, well, journalists are going out on a limb - and then some.
I was saddened to see David Rohde's name on a news story from Egypt today. Having just read his wife's moving account of his kidnapping by al-Qaeda and emotional return, I figured he'd stay put forever. He'd learned his lesson.
What do I know?
I remember once leaving a message on my outgoing answering machine -- back in 2003 at the start of the Iraqi conflict -- stating that I was off to the Middle East to report. Please don't worry, I stated, and I wouldn't forget to write.
My brother took it seriously and was frantic.
"How could you do that to me? To the family?!" he shouted.
I thought it was funny. "What? You wouldn't honestly think I would do such a thing, would you?"
"I don't know - yeah?"
I thought a moment. It was a question I never forgot - and one that my profession is, more and more, answering on my behalf.
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