Translator: Els De Keyser Reviewer: Denise RQ
It was the summer of 2014
and every morning began in the same way:
getting up at the crack of dawn,
blurry eyed, coffee in hand,
I'd rush to the news room in New York City, where I live,
and start producing stories on the conflict in Gaza.
It was a conflict in which more than 2,000 people were killed,
and more than 10,000 were injured.
Four boys who were last seen on a beach, never returned home.
Schools were hit,
and hospitals badly damaged.
Image after image of death and destruction filled my screen
in those early morning hours.
And this went on for about four weeks,
during which the world, and I, and perhaps you too,
slowly got used to those tales of loss and suffering,
as so often happens in times of conflict.
We grow tired of them.
Until a 16-year-old girl entered the scene.
She live tweeted how she felt,
as bombs rained down on her neighbourhood in Gaza,
while she was taking shelter in the basement of her parents' home.
In so doing, she made headlines.
Here is what she tweeted, and I quote:
"I'm 16 years old, and I've witnessed 3 wars.
As I see, this is the hardest one."
Another tweet read:
"We are sitting in darkness because the power is off.
Flares are lighting up the area just like it is midday.
We are just hearing bombs, drones, F-16s.
# gaza"
She struck a chord with thousands of users around the world,
who retweeted her messages to their own group of followers,
and created a global narrative on the basis of her voice.
And while my mornings in August were still very bleak,
someone had managed to pierce through the endless stream of data
and capture the world's attention,
by speaking up in a very personal voice.
Such was her impact
that Al Jazeera, the organization that I work for, dubbed her
a 'sudden Gaza spokesgirl'.
This is her.
Someone on Twitter went one step further and put it this way.
She said:
"Reading Farah Gazan's tweets
and thinking about the first time that I read Anne Frank's diary."
And this is an interesting observation:
for many, Twitter has become a contemporary version of journalling,
a place where we turn to record our own, uncensored voice,
without anyone telling us what to say.
And that's why journals, such as Anne Frank's diary,
or Farah Baker's Twitter account,
are powerful political documents
and can change the way that we consume news.
And this is what I want to talk about to you today.
What can journals mean to you, as consumers of news?
How can they change the public discourse or collective of ideas?
As a journalist, I've been grateful to get access to voices
that weren't a part of the mainstream conversation.
Whether they be women in Saudi Arabia,
Afghan or Iraq War veterans,
or people who were homeless on the streets of New York City.
Those people have been generous to share their stories with me,
and took the time to allow me into their lives.
But each time someone like that decides to talk to me,
to us, to a journalist,
they take a risk.
Will I be quoted correctly?
Will my voice ring true?
Will my story be relayed the way that I had envisioned it,
or will, instead, someone take ownership of what I had to say,
and use it for their own narrative,
that serves their purposes and not mine?
I commend people who talk to journalists, I really do.
It's always a leap of faith,
and you never know what you're going to get.
People say we are out to get a good quote,
a catchy phrase, a quick soundbite,
and they're right.
So I have a question for you, for the audience, this afternoon:
Is there anyone here who has ever been misquoted?
Or maybe noticed inaccuracies in reporting
when reading a story that you happened to know well,
or better than the journalist involved?
Could you please raise your hand?
This is a rather large showing of hands,
so, my apologies for that.
I'm not offended.
So, perhaps even worse yet,
in times when news outlets cut down on resources,
and don't have the money or time to cover stories
that are difficult to report,
or cover voices that are difficult to access,
important stories are falling through the cracks.
We are missing stuff.
So, going back to my question:
"What can journals mean to you as consumers of news?"
Journals are powerful tools to shape your own narrative,
irrespective of who's listening.
And in turn, they help me do my job as a journalist, to get the story right.
And a lot is at stake here.
This is an example of a story we got wrong.
The war in Iraq was one of the most defining stories of the past decade,
and continues to be so, unfortunately.
And this journal helps explain why.
This is the journal of Marine Corps veteran Timothy McLaughlin,
in which he documented his experience in the war in Iraq in 2003.
He put this away at home,
after he quit the military,
until two journalists, Gary Knight and Peter Maass,
who were with Tim in Iraq
and covered the war for their respected publications,
found this and convinced him to share his story with the world,
albeit a very different version than what the media had reported.
When Saddam Hussein's statue was toppled at Firdos Square in Baghdad,
it was Tim's American flag that was draped across his face.
This scene was dubbed as 'the most defining visual moment of the Iraq war'.
Hundreds of reporters, who were staying in a hotel near the square, conveniently,
rushed to cover this moment.
Images of victory were beamed into American and Belgian living rooms,
prompting then Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld, to say,
and I quote:
"The scenes of free Iraqi celebrating in the streets,
riding American tanks,
tearing down the statues of Saddam Hussein in the center of Baghdad,
are breathtaking.
Watching them, one cannot help but think
of the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of the Iron Curtain."
Tim's journal helped tell a different story.
While the event wasn't planned,
it was staged for the benefit of dozens of cameras,
who made it appear as if Iraqis were still celebrating,
when in fact, the the number of people there was small,
and the military had had a hand in making the statute come down,
as the ultimate symbol of victory.
Here is what Tim wrote about the event,
and I quote from the lines up there, in his journal,
"Swamped by mass of reporters -
could not move.
Peace protester, 'How many children have you killed today?'
Capt. Lewis sent me back to get flag.
Chin draped it over Saddam's face…
Got flag back;
people tried to get it from me."
His writing reflects what Peter called a 'mad rush of impressions of the event'.
Gary told me that the journal was an important element
in wrestling back the narrative from governments and media
who had created their own, self-serving version of events,
according to which the invasion was justified to free Iraqis
and to find weapons of mass destruction,
when in fact, there were none.
Setting aside the conflicts in Gaza and Iraq for a moment,
perhaps my third example will hit a little closer to home.
Gender inequality is a subject that I hold especially dear
and has been the focus of much of my work.
One in three women reports incidents of sexual assault each year, worldwide.
One in three.
And that statistic represents
one of the most underreported stories of our time.
Somehow, violence against women is deemed less newsworthy than other items.
This is an image from the journal of Carri Noling,
a young woman who said that she was raped twice by her colleagues,
slandered by her superiors,
and committed suicide shortly thereafter.
Her case garnered little attention,
and her perpetrators allegedly walked free.
Her father showed me this image
and gave me permission to use it today, in my reporting, and in this talk,
and not only to me but also to Human Rights Watch,
one of the most prominent human rights organizations of the world,
who will use this image in the forthcoming report.
So while her case was initially ignored,
now her father hopes
that this image from her journal, her diary, can help tell
the true story of her assault,
as journalists around the world are using this image
in their reporting on the issue.
I realize that my examples have been bleak.
But the lesson here is bright:
What can we learn from Carri, Farah, and Tim?
History, it is often said, is written by the victors.
It is written by those who have a stake in holding onto power.
But what if this weren't so?
What if there were a way
in which we could present a more just, and a more equitable version of events?
Tim's, Farah's and Carri's journal
each provide for such a version,
by giving us a counternarrative to the dominant discourse.
So let's be skeptical next time we turn on the TV,
switch on the radio, or open up a newspaper,
and, if at all possible,
let's try and find that one, uncensored voice,
not to solely rely on,
- because that would be making the same mistake all over again -
but to complement our understanding of events,
which, without that lived experience,
cannot be complete.
So keeping an eye on who stands to benefit
from what version of the truth that is presented
isn't just a smart thing to do,
but will help us make better decisions about what we believe to be right.
Thank you.
(Applause)