There is a People's Assembly on Tuesday, 2:00 - 8:00pm at Central Hall Westminster in London. If you feel strongly about this, don't just say what you think in the pub go and be counted.
Stop the war
Friday, 16 March 2007
Iraq after Saddam
The Road to Kerbala is being screened at the Frontline club on Monday at 7.30pm. The film offers "insight into the heart of the long-oppressed Shia community of Iraq" as we are able to journey with them on a pilgrimage that was banned by Saddam. I'm told that it is excellent. I'll be there!
Tickets are £5 and you must register to book at Frontline club
Tickets are £5 and you must register to book at Frontline club
Thursday, 15 March 2007
A love like no other
I recently e-mailed Philip Knightley, an inspiration for this blog, telling him about it and asking if he could contribute his thoughts. He kindly offered to answer some of my questions but warned me that he has spent over 30 years immersed in the topic and he is yet to be free of it.
Mr Knightley recommended that I see a review in this weeks Mail on Sunday of a book by Anthony Loyd, Another Bloody Love Letter. Knightley described Loyd as "a war junkie, hooked on war reporting who loves the risk", and critique James Delingpole appeared to agree labelling Loyd "Britain's boldest, louchest war reporter".
Delingpole speaks of Loyd as the master of an art, "He'd had this odd feeling they were about to drive into a minefield... this is the sort of life-saving intuition it takes a war correspondent years to hone". Though it almost feels as if he is describing a game when he speaks of the "powers of Loyd's sixth sense" and explains that "within every battle there is a well-kept secret: 'The shared and terrible love of it all.'"
When reading the review I am struck by Delingpole's juxtaposition of the perceived glamour of war alongside the true grit and grime somehow unseen by mavericks like Loyd, "War offers to some men a seduction that no other experience can quite match".
Mr Knightley recommended that I see a review in this weeks Mail on Sunday of a book by Anthony Loyd, Another Bloody Love Letter. Knightley described Loyd as "a war junkie, hooked on war reporting who loves the risk", and critique James Delingpole appeared to agree labelling Loyd "Britain's boldest, louchest war reporter".
Delingpole speaks of Loyd as the master of an art, "He'd had this odd feeling they were about to drive into a minefield... this is the sort of life-saving intuition it takes a war correspondent years to hone". Though it almost feels as if he is describing a game when he speaks of the "powers of Loyd's sixth sense" and explains that "within every battle there is a well-kept secret: 'The shared and terrible love of it all.'"
When reading the review I am struck by Delingpole's juxtaposition of the perceived glamour of war alongside the true grit and grime somehow unseen by mavericks like Loyd, "War offers to some men a seduction that no other experience can quite match".
Tuesday, 13 March 2007
Fighting fire with fire
"Let us learn our lessons. Never, never, never believe any war will be smooth and easy, or that anyone who embarks on that strange voyage can measure the tides and hurricanes he will encounter. The statesman who yields to war fever must realise that, once the signal is given, he is no longer the master of policy but the slave of unforeseeable and uncontrollable events. Antiquated war officers, weak, incompetent or arrogant commanders, untrustworthy allies, hostile neutrals, malignant fortune, ugly surprises, awful miscalculations - all take their seat at the Council Board on the morrow of a declaration of war."
Winston Churchill, quoted in a letter to The Times
Winston Churchill, quoted in a letter to The Times
Coffee?
I read War reporting for cowards last week and literally could not put it down.
Chris Ayres had me hooked right from the very first paragraph, "Waking up, of course, shouldn't be a difficult or traumatic process. For the first twenty-seven years of my life I had done it every day without even thinking. Open eyes. Yawn. Scratch balls. Look up at the ceiling. Climb out of bed. Waking up in a Humvee on the front lines of an invasion, however, is different."
Mr Ayres' story is incredibly accessible, despite being set in a completely alien environment. His attitude is refreshingly honest. Ayres actually did my course at my University which he describes as the "Fame Acedemy" of journalism schools second only to Columbia (the X Factor? I can only assume). He describes Islington in 1997 and the lecturers. Everything that he experienced a decade ago remains almost the same today in a different form, the pub is now the Queen Boudica and the lecturers have changed but the ethos is as strong as ever. Perhaps finding these things in common made it easier for me to relate to his experience in Iraq. His words took me right there.
As soon as I finished, I sent him an e-mail. He replied the next day: "Kat - alas I live in LA, although you're welcome to meet me for a coffee here!"
Chris Ayres had me hooked right from the very first paragraph, "Waking up, of course, shouldn't be a difficult or traumatic process. For the first twenty-seven years of my life I had done it every day without even thinking. Open eyes. Yawn. Scratch balls. Look up at the ceiling. Climb out of bed. Waking up in a Humvee on the front lines of an invasion, however, is different."
Mr Ayres' story is incredibly accessible, despite being set in a completely alien environment. His attitude is refreshingly honest. Ayres actually did my course at my University which he describes as the "Fame Acedemy" of journalism schools second only to Columbia (the X Factor? I can only assume). He describes Islington in 1997 and the lecturers. Everything that he experienced a decade ago remains almost the same today in a different form, the pub is now the Queen Boudica and the lecturers have changed but the ethos is as strong as ever. Perhaps finding these things in common made it easier for me to relate to his experience in Iraq. His words took me right there.
As soon as I finished, I sent him an e-mail. He replied the next day: "Kat - alas I live in LA, although you're welcome to meet me for a coffee here!"
Thursday, 8 March 2007
Shooting the messenger
There is counter on the International News Safety Institute website. Three days ago it rested at 20. On the 31 December 2006 the count had reached 138.
This is the number of journalists killed in war zones every year.
296 is the sum of deaths since January 2005, just over two years ago. I recently came across the obituary for Terry Lloyd one of ITN's most experienced correspondents who was killed after 20 years in Iraq on March 22 2003. When reading this I felt some deja vu for the response I had to the death of Steve Irwin, the crocodile hunter. Surely we shouldn't be shocked if a person who has spent years playing Russian roulette gets a fatal hit.
Lloyd's death was described as tragic "one can be certain that he would not have entered into a foolhardy enterprise". He was killed in "friendly fire", shot under the guise of an oxymoronic phrase that has always been lost on me, by our own troops whose whole purpose is to restore peace to a nation. I am unable to define such a thing as an act of "foolhardy enterprise" when Lloyd's job description dictates danger.
The first ever comprehensive journalist safety survey says: "Two journalists killed every week over last 10 years".
News Safety Institute
This is the number of journalists killed in war zones every year.
296 is the sum of deaths since January 2005, just over two years ago. I recently came across the obituary for Terry Lloyd one of ITN's most experienced correspondents who was killed after 20 years in Iraq on March 22 2003. When reading this I felt some deja vu for the response I had to the death of Steve Irwin, the crocodile hunter. Surely we shouldn't be shocked if a person who has spent years playing Russian roulette gets a fatal hit.
Lloyd's death was described as tragic "one can be certain that he would not have entered into a foolhardy enterprise". He was killed in "friendly fire", shot under the guise of an oxymoronic phrase that has always been lost on me, by our own troops whose whole purpose is to restore peace to a nation. I am unable to define such a thing as an act of "foolhardy enterprise" when Lloyd's job description dictates danger.
The first ever comprehensive journalist safety survey says: "Two journalists killed every week over last 10 years".
News Safety Institute
World record deaths
Yesterday there was an article in the Financial Times entitled "Killing of journalists escalate to world record levels". The FT website charges a subcription so I will post the article tomorrow when I am able to scan it.
EDITED 13/03: What is said in this piece is covered by other posts, I am still trying to figure out how to post the map. Bare with me!
EDITED 13/03: What is said in this piece is covered by other posts, I am still trying to figure out how to post the map. Bare with me!
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