Journalist Shadid’s risks were benefit to us all

In April, prize-winning New York Times correspondent Anthony Shadid was asked, on the National Public Radio talk show On Point, why he kept taking terrible risks to cover conflicts in the Middle East.

“I kind of wonder if it’s irresponsible of you,” a caller mused out loud. “Why would someone put themselves in such a situation?”

Shadid, in his typically modest fashion, admitted this was “a perfectly legitimate question.” Then he replied slowly, “I felt that if I wasn’t there, the story wouldn’t be told.”

Shadid, a two-time Pulitzer Prize winner, died Thursday, apparently of an asthma attack, as he was making his way back over harsh terrain from a secret trip to Syria.

That clip from On Point is a poignant reminder of the importance of experienced foreign correspondents to our understanding of the world. Youtube videos can give us the flavour of the Syrian revolt but can’t explain who the rebels are, what they want or what is going on inside the country.

As a columnist who makes only periodic visits to hot spots, I hugely admire those who still report full time from Kabul, Baghdad, Beirut, and Cairo.

Shadid was the best of the best. I knew him only in passing. But I was in awe of his grasp of Middle East complexities, his writing talent and his modesty.

The grandson of Lebanese immigrants, raised in Oklahoma, he spoke fluent Arabic, which gave him unique access and insights into the Arab world and the forces behind the Arab Spring. He had a special talent and empathy for conveying the fears and hopes of ordinary people, in Syria, Libya, Egypt and Iraq.

His harrowing descriptions of suffering in postwar Iraq were an antidote to the good-news stories emanating from the Bush White House. That reporting won him his 2004 Pulitzer. His second Pulitzer, in 2010, was awarded for his coverage of Iraqis struggling to cope with the legacy of the war, as U.S. troops were leaving. Tellingly, the book that Shadid wrote in 2005 based on his Iraq reportage was titled: Night Draws Near: Iraq’s People in the Shadow of America’s War.

To get his stories, Shadid repeatedly put himself in danger. He was shot in the shoulder in 2002 while covering Israeli-palestinian clashes in the West Bank. He stayed in Baghdad, unembedded, in 2003 during the U.S. invasion, and risked his life again to cover Israel’s invasion of Lebanon in 2006.

Last year, while covering the fighting in Libya, he was seized, imprisoned and beaten by Moammar Gadhafi’s forces, who he thought at one point were about to kill him.

And yet, Shadid chose to travel surreptitiously to Syria — where journalists are forbidden entry, even as the regime slaughters thousands of civilians. He moved by horseback along smugglers’ routes from Turkey. His fatal asthma attack was apparently triggered by a reaction to the horses. No doubt many who read his obituary will ask, “Why did he risk it?” In these days of instant media, do we really need a print journalist for the story to be told?

Shadid’s goal on this trip was to interview soldiers of the Free Syrian Army, the military defectors who are fighting the regime’s forces. Right now, there is minimal information available about the strength and organization of these rebel soldiers or their beliefs.

Shadid wanted to find the answers, both to satisfy himself and to inform his readers. As On Point host Tom Ashbrook told his dubious caller, in reference to Shadid’s scary experiences in Libya: “We would know much less if there were not reporters there. Big decisions are being made about the extent of American and other involvement in this country.”

The same words could be applied to our knowledge of Syria and the rest of the Middle East, not to mention Pakistan and Afghanistan.

Sadly, as Shadid also knew, the number of foreign news bureaus is rapidly shrinking, as struggling U.S. newspapers cut staff and budgets to meet the economic squeeze.

“There are so few people who do it these days,” Shadid told another NPR talk show in December, referring to foreign correspondents with the skills and experience to piece together important stories.

Neither citizen journalists nor freelancers can fill that gap.

So I understand why Shadid took the risks he did, even though the tragedy of his death removes one of the best interpreters we had of Mideast turmoil. Shadid was correct that what he did was important and worthwhile — I’d say vital. Yet, to be honest, I wish he had not made this trip.

Trudy Rubin is a columnist with the Philadelphia Inquirer.