On May 21, 1996, the Journalists Memorial was established by the Freedom Forum, a non-partisan international foundation dedicated to a free press and the free spirit of all people. Located in Arlington, Virginia's Freedom Park, next to the Newseum, the Memorial bears the names of more than 1,000 journalists who have perished since 1812. To be included in the Memorial, an individual must have been a documentary filmmaker or regular contributor of news, commentary or photography to a broadcast outlet or publication. Also included are producers, camera operators, sound engineers or any other working members of film or news crews.
One name added recently was that of Dan Eldon, a 22-year-old Reuters photographer who was stoned to death along with three other journalists while on assignment in Somalia. Eldon is the subject of Dying to Tell the Story, a two-hour documentary that premiered on TBS last September and will air again next month. The documentary follows Eldon's sister, Amy, back to Somalia, where she attempts to comprehend why her brother and other journalists would choose to live a life of risk and danger.
Also featured in this excellent and poignant film are Peter Magubane, who was once jailed and tortured for taking photographs in South Africa during the height of apartheid; Corinne Dufka, a Reuters photographer out of Nairobi who has twice been assigned as a replacement for dead colleagues; and Carlos Mavrolean and other seemingly fearless camera cowboys and self-identified "adrenaline junkies" who shoot war footage — or, as they call it, "bang-bang" video.
The film also includes an interview segment with one of the world's most notable and widely known television journalists, Christiane Amanpour. As CNN's chief international correspondent, Amanpour has reported from many "hot zones," including the former Yugoslavia and the Persian Gulf. She has earned her network countless news and documentary Emmys, as well as many other awards.
Amanpour shared her views during a recent interview for TBS and Dying to Tell the Story. "The primary role of a journalist on the front line is to do your best to tell the story in a situation where the truth is not always readily available," she said. "Risk and danger are inherent in combat reporting. We have to know the difference between calculated and foolish risks. I try to rely on common sense. I talk to the local citizens who are familiar with the lay of the land. In extreme situations, I have used armored vehicles and bulletproof vests. Although I am continually faced with dangerous assignments, I have never turned down a job because of the dangers involved."
Award-winning documentary filmmaker Jennifer Fox, who once traveled with a two-person crew into war-torn Beirut to tell the story of one family's hardships, concurs with Amanpour and offers an explanation for producing her own high-risk documentary: "I took a chance because I believed that I was invincible as a journalist. When I made Beirut: The Last Home Movie, I was 21 years old and thought I was never going to die. I look back now and realize how dangerous that was. However, some things — no matter how dangerous — are worth filming. I was very passionate about that film. War is hellacious, and what you do to yourself to get through the experience is very, very numbing and negative. I believe you [have to] destroy a part of yourself to work in such an extreme environment."
What attracted Fox as a filmmaker to take that kind a risk? "I was seduced by the story and the power of the emotions," she says. "Nothing compares to a story of that intensity, or the simplicity of basic survival. I believe there are people who feel more alive during war and become addicted to the adrenaline and intensity of the emotions."
Unlike Amanpour, who does a great deal of prep work at CNN, Fox admits that she did little to gird herself against her dangerous undertaking. "I was very naive at 21," she says. "We were at risk the whole time we were there. There was constant shelling and miscellaneous warfare, especially during the five weeks we spent with the soldiers during maneuvers. When I came back home, I went into a kind of shock. I would never, ever go into a war zone again. I survived on guts and luck."
Santa Barbara-based filmmaker Kevin McKiernan agrees with Amanpour and Fox. McKiernan, who documented the siege at Wounded Knee, has covered the Contra/Sandanista war in Nicaragua, the civil war in El Salvador, and counter-insurgency in Guatemala, is now working on a film focusing on the plight of the Turkish Kurds, entitled Trouble in Paradise: The Untold Story of 2 Million Refugees.
McKiernan, who also co-produced the documentary special The Spirit of Crazy Horse, which aired recently on PBS' Frontline, explains, "There is an illusion of safety when the camera is in front of your face. Although it is not a shield from the danger or the reality of the situation you are filming, it creates a kind of distance. I'm very good at calculating the risks, but sometimes I must calculate them under extreme duress.
"I constantly ask myself, 'How good am I before I make mental errors?' I believe I know when to quit; however, I am usually sleep-deprived and running on empty while I am making those decisions. I have learned, though, that it is okay not to always go after the gold. I have learned to sometimes settle for the silver and be happy with that shot. There is a moment in every cameraman's life when you know you've done enough. Knowing when to quit is everything, but at the same time, it is also a very hard decision to make."
McKiernan acknowledges the dangers of staying too long in a volatile situation. "Your presence always changes things," he notes. "It is impossible to be there as just a fly on the wall. You can completely change the tone and the outcome of an event just by being there with a camera."
On more than one occasion, locals in various places have offered to stir things up by verbally harassing villagers and throwing rocks at them. "Do we make things worse or better?" McKiernan wonders, adding with a sigh, "Sometimes they see us as snitches, when we simply point our cameras at the truth. Still, the personal fulfillment and rewards are great — even in the most dire of circumstances."
One person who agrees with this sentiment is Emmy-winning director David Breashears, who filmed and coordinated a daring rescue that saved several lives while making the McGillivray Freeman large-format film Everest (see full coverage in AC May '98). He sums up the dangers of hazardous cinematography by concluding, "It is very hard to imagine what can be accomplished in the face of adversity and tragedy. Filmmaking is no exception."
