A way with words wins hearts and minds
by Steve Weinberg Posted Thu, Dec 1 2005
It seems reasonable to assume that many readers of Global Journalist are familiar with Anthony Shadid's reporting. First for The Associated Press, then The Boston Globe and now The Washington Post, Shadid has uncovered information from the world's conflict zones as well as any contemporary journalist. The prizes he has won, including a 2004 Pulitzer, are certainly a well-deserved testament to his ability.
In his book Night Draws Near, Shadid conveys many lessons about historic and present-day Iraq. More important perhaps, for us, Shadid offers teachings about exemplary reporting and writing.
The most vital teaching is also the most obvious — and nothing new:
Learn the languages of the nations where reality needs explaining. Growing up in Oklahoma, Shadid could have shed his heritage as an Arab-American of Lebanese/Syrian descent. Instead, he capitalized on that heritage by learning languages other than English, tongues that he could rely upon in the Middle East. Finding English-speaking sources and subjects, relying on capable translators — none of these are adequate substitutes for direct communication in the language of the nation being covered. Without the benefit of Shadid's keen language skills, it seems likely that Night Draws Near would be no more than a run-of-the-mill account by an outsider journalist.
Other journalistic rules include:
Have humility. “Journalism is imperfect,” Shadid says. “The more we know as reporters, the more complicated the story becomes and, by the nature of our profession, the less equipped we are to write about it with the justice and rigor it deserves. Night Draws Near is no exception. The book's account of the years I was in Iraq as a reporter are a first glance at those sweeping events. Some parts of the account may suffer from a lack of perspective and distance, and the years ahead may prove some interpretations wrong.”
Have empathy. Like all reporters, Shadid hopes to capitalize on the kindness of strangers who are probably better off saying nothing to journalists from distant lands. But he never seems to expect or demand cooperation. During a tense moment in the book, Shadid watches the emptying of the Abu Ghraib prison ordered by Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein; naturally, the journalist in him hopes for memorable quotations. He does not press for the quotes, however, because he knows that his presence is uncomfortable for those used to living under oppression. By exercising patience, by staying with the crowd until conversation occurred spontaneously, he obtained his quotations eventually. Shadid noticed over time that “the combustible ambiguities of Iraq — the ancient pride, the desire for justice, the resilience — were emerging from beneath the fear, conformity and silence after so many years.”
“I started to realize how little any of us — journalists, policy makers, citizens — really understood about Iraq,” Shadid says. “Proud but humbled, rebellious but humiliated, the country was never simply a black-and-white photograph of dictatorship and repression. It was a timeworn sculpture, born of a distant past and weathered by more recent, wrenching events. And its people were more than victims.”
Be a charismatic listener. Shadid shows he cares about what Iraqis have to say by making their acquaintances slowly, courteously and by observing local customs. He returns again and again, rather than using sources for a quick quotation and then disappearing.
Live among sources and subjects. Dropping into and out of war-torn nations for the sake of a quick story is never the best way to really understand the culture, though often it is better than nothing. Living in Baghdad for months at a time, Shadid overcame his fears about dying effectively enough to make the best of the situation. “To this day, in the simplest of ways, I enjoy life there,” he says. “I am drawn by the civilized propriety of the Middle East. ... No one enters any room, anywhere in the Arab world, without being greeted. It never happens.”
Embrace complexity. “Iraq is variegated, contradictory, endlessly confusing,” Shadid says. “Over the years its people have watched as others have sought to define them, creating images to be displayed beyond its borders. In the end, Iraq has always seemed to mock these efforts. Our televisable notions never captured the haunting, ambivalent and bitter complexity of even one conversation during war or in its shadow.”
Pay attention to every word and phrase as a language stylist. It is a good bet that Shadid crafts every sentence painstakingly by reading each aloud before trying to perfect it. His prose is achingly good.
Steve Weinberg
Steve Weinberg reviews books regularly for Global Journalist, concentrating on journalistic technique rather than summaries of content.