SAURABH KUMAR SHAHI | New Delhi, April 26, 2012 19:10
Tags :
cover story | The Changing Scenario |
When it comes to reportage-based writing, journalist-turned-authors ignore what is happening in the developing countries, says Saurabh Kumar Shahi
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Marcel Proust, the celebrated French novelist, critic, and essayist, had once famously quipped: “The fault I find with our journalism is that it forces us to take an interest in some fresh triviality or other every day, whereas only three or four books in a lifetime give us anything that is of real importance.” It was 1901 and the world of journalism as we see it today was yet to be conceived. Proust’s disgust, and justifiably so, was a result of the yellow journalism euphoria that defined journalism of his time.
But things changed, and rather quickly. So quickly that as early as in 1920, Irish author James Joyce, best known for his seminal work Ulysses, drew scorn of his fellow writers when he proposed that “Literature deals with the ordinary; the unusual and extraordinary belong to journalism.” The truth, as we all know, lies somewhere in between.
It is not that journalists had not tried their luck as authors before the 20th century. It might surprise many that celebrated authors such as Daniel Defoe, Charles Dickens, Gaston Leroux and even Jose Marti were journalists before they made their reputation in other fields. But strictly speaking, these and other such as George Orwell, although used their skills and experiences from journalism to enrich their literary products, they can, in no way, be termed as journalist-authors in the strict sense of the word. Because that club, almost in totality, became non-fiction author club by 1940s and has remained largely unchanged.
When journalism became rather organised, a slew of works appeared that were based on the remarkable incidents of their times. Trivial incidents, as suggested by Proust, gave way to events that shaped the world: World War II. Cold War, Vietnam War, 60’s Revolutionary zeal and so on. Slowly, writers’ club started getting crammed by journalists.
The first seminal work that arrived was by American war correspondent, William Lawrence Shirer. His chronicle on WW II, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, gave a glimpse of what was in offing for the world of literature. Cold War followed and it gave us two of the greatest journalist-writers on the opposite sides of spectrum. While Walter Lippmann hold forth for the west, Polish journalist-author Ryszard Kapuciski became a standard bearer of the Eastern Block. Lippmann in fact coined the word “Cold War” and was on the forefront of intellectual moorings of his time.
On the other hand, Kapuciski completely changed the meaning of reportage and reportage-based books. His works on Africa, Asia and Latin America have no parallels. The scene changed with the disintegration of the USSR as the focus shifted to other issues.
Israel’s occupation of Palestine, Gulf War, Rwandan Massacre and Civil War in Bosnia threw other sets of journalist-authors who benefited from their status as journalists to give us stories right from the heart of where they were unfolding. David Remnick, Editor-in-Chief of The New Yorker chronicled the disintegration of the Soviet Union in his celebrated work Lenin’s Tomb and set a trend that refuses to die down even now. On the other hand, John Pilger took the path less traveled and gave us some of the most important books of our time through much of 1980s, 1990s and the decade that followed.
Throughout much of 1990s and after the 9/11 attacks and the war that followed, most of the works in this league have come out from Middle East and North Africa (MENA).
The Independent’s Robert Fisk remains the most respected among them all and his nuanced reportage and reportage based books continue to influence a generation. These two decades also saw some remarkable work from Africa including Philip Gourevitch’s chilling chronicle of Rwandan massacre and Tim Butcher’s exploits in Congo and Liberia. On the other hand, Semezdin Mehmedinović’s account of Bosnian Massacre remains an essential read for every journalist.
As west found itself embroiled in Afghanistan and Iraq following 9/11, a range of books started appearing. However, close scrutiny reveals that the only readable ones are again by journalist-authors. Philip Gourevitch, Jason Burke, Anatol Lieven, Ahmed Rashid, Dilip Hiro and late Saleem Shahzad made it easy for the world to find method in the madness.
Why is it that when it comes to non-fiction, journalist-authors appear to completely overshadow others? It is true that the charm of primary source can never be matched by the abundance of secondary information. But that is not all. There is something more.
Says, Philip Yancey, American journalist-author who has worked for Reader’s Digest, Chicago Tribune and Eternity, “We of the journalistic breed have the advantage of leeching life from others. We may not pilot jet planes or croon before thousands at a rock concert, but at least we can sit in the cockpit jump seat or on a chair backstage and take notes, basking in the glow of those who actually do lead exciting lives. When we tell it to the world, the world listens.”
In spite of all its aura, there have been few setbacks too. It is pretty evident that most of the journalist-writers we talk about are from the west. Apart from the regions that are perpetually embroiled in conflicts, very few journalist-writers worth mentioning have come to the fore. Lack of resources, unavailability of funds, tendency to remain inward-looking and sheer unwillingness to venture out are some of the reasons for this. It will be interesting to see how this scenario changes as the focus shifts to developing economies.
Tim Butcher is an English journalist, broadcaster and best-selling author. He is the author of Blood River and Chasing the Devil, travel books blending contemporary adventure with African history. Between 1990 and 2009 Butcher worked for The Daily Telegraph newspaper, holding a series of positions including leader writer, war correspondent, Africa Bureau Chief and Middle East Correspondent. In this interview with Saurabh Kumar Shahi, he delves into the world of reportage and non-fiction writing
To write a book like ‘Blood River’ one needs the courage of an epic proportion. What according to you was the most difficult part of this process?
The process was like a steeplechase race; obstacle after obstacle, each difficult in their own right but followed by another one just as difficult. The war was my first concern – how to get through terrain where the world’s bloodiest war is being fought. Then came the logistics – how to get across a country without any roads. Then there was the issue of health – how to keep healthy in a country which incubates many of the world’s worst diseases. And then there came the issue of being brave enough to do it – that required digging deep to places I did not know existed. And then after the journey there was the entire process of producing a book – another series of challenges from winning an agent, to persuading a publisher to take on the project to actually writing the manuscript. There was no single part of this entire process that was the most difficult. It was all a challenge.
As a seasoned journalist you have covered Bosnia, Iraq War and Israel’s invasion of Lebanon in 2006 among other events. But Africa, especially, The Congo is a different ball-game altogether. As a writer, do you allow events at times to overwhelm you as you might not have as a journalist?
To raise your writing up from the level of straight reportage I think it is important to put a bit of you the person into the writing. If this means taking on events that overwhelm, that cause a malfunction in the mechanical process of reporting, then I think that is proper. I see it less as overwhelming and more as connecting with you, the author. As a writer one must expose one’s inner, real self rather than the cold, objective journalist.
Correct me if I am wrong but the book suggests that when you took up this journey, you were not sure you would document this experience as a book. One can easily sense that unpreparedness. In a way, it adds to its freshness. How easy or difficult it is then to turn it into a book?
I had no firm plan for a book. Indeed I had no firm idea that the journey would be possible. But when I emerged on the western side of Africa having crossed the Congo, I felt there was enough material for me to write a great book. The challenge was how to go about producing a book. I remember sitting down beside my computer on my return from the Congo. After a few days’ rest and several long baths, I googled ‘How to publish a book’. I was totally ignorant of the process. In fact, I had to start from Ground Zero.
Journalism gives a person a sense of personal bravado. I mean even if you have been scared during the war at times, there is no way your reportage would reflect that. But book is a different platform. In Blood River, you appear scared for your life almost perpetually. Does it mean that a book has more potential to humanise an experience than reportage?
I am in danger of repeating my answer to the question No.2 above but I felt that for a book to work it must have more than just straight reportage. You must be prepared to put your emotional DNA into the book, for better or for worse. One must be brave enough to strip away the camouflage and put yourself out there for the reader to engage with.
Countries like Liberia seldom feature on the media radar, unless of course something devastating happens there. May be, as a journalist, you would have never covered the country yourself. Did this compel you to write ‘Chasing the Devil’?
It was more a sense of the limitations of journalism that compelled me to write Chasing the Devil. I did a good job reporting on Liberia but reporting does not allow one to contextualise a society properly. It also does not allow to take on the full loom of its cultural history and identity. It is my search for cultural history and identity that compelled me to write my books.