PressEthic

Journalist Michael Weisskopf was sent to Iraq as an embedded journalist in late 2003. After less than a month on the war front, he lost his hand to a grenade. Waking up at the hospital, he realized that he had become a part of the battle he had merely been attempting to document.

Weisskopf recently documented his experiences in a book titled ‘Blood Brothers,’ and has vocally criticized the concept of embedded journalism.

In an NPR commentary on November 2nd, Weisskopf recounted his experience:

“For 20 days I had patrolled Baghdad with U.S. soldiers. Once I grabbed the grenade, I crossed the line from observer to participant. Now I was being asked to supply battlefield intelligence, a dubious milestone for a reporter engaged in what is called embedding. The Bush administration had invented the concept -- a policy that paid off in almost universally favorable press coverage. No complaints came from reporters who always want unfettered access to whomever they are covering.”

Weisskopf continued:

“It took a life-threatening injury and months of recovery to realize embedding is journalistic folly. A reporter's job is to present the facts. That's hard to do from a body bag or gurney.

It became very difficult to objectively assess the role of U.S. soldiers who were housing, feeding, befriending and protecting me. After three weeks in a platoon, I came dangerously close to adopting the mindset and mission of a soldier. Their danger became my danger, their desensitizing forms of recreation -- war movies and heavy metal music -- became mine.”

Weisskopf’s comments raise a crucial question: Beyond the questionable political implications of embedding, when should a journalist know when he or she is becoming too close to a subject? If one’s goal is to translate the mindset of a source onto the page as faithfully as possible, shouldn’t experiencing his or her lifestyle first-hand be considered an unparalleled form of research?

Realistically, however, human nature rarely makes it possible to establish close personal contact with another individual and not become psychologically influenced by the relationship. As journalists, we need to maintain a certain distance to secure any attempt at objectivity. Thus the best journalists are likely to face a constant struggle between research and friendship, between understanding and emotional involvement.

Many would logically conclude that for this very reason, embedding journalists in combat situations kills any potential of objective reporting. According to most war accounts, the front is a place where seemingly different individuals will quickly establish dependent relationships with one another. When one’s civilian life at home is merely a distant imprint of memory, strangers take the role of family. Whether individuals are on the scene with a guns or notebooks in hand, they are likely to become reliant on relationships with those who share in the same, absurd reality.

Weisskopf said on NPR that the wounded combatants he met during his stay at the hospital gave him invaluable insight into the war:

“I had a unique window into the character of American soldiers, young men cut down at the peak of their physical power and performance…They believed in the nobility of sacrifice. Their battle after the war -- a fight to function and face the world with broken bodies -- became my battle during 18 months of recovery at Walter Reed. The way they picked up their lives inspired my recovery and redefined heroism for me.”

Meanwhile, he came away from the life-altering experience with a sense of guilt.

“I had moved into the army as an independent observer -- a journalist -- and left it a member of a platoon of wounded warriors. I'm not sure what the answer is, but I left with a realization that embedding creates a close-up too personal for real reporting.”

Weisskopf's NPR commentary