Mediabistro Archive

Ivan Watson on Frontline Reporting, War, Culture, and the Future of Radio Journalism

Archive Interview: This interview was originally published by Mediabistro in the mid-2000s. It is republished here as part of the Mediabistro archive.

Award-winning NPR foreign correspondent Ivan Watson is no stranger to frontline reporting. Fresh out of college, Watson ditched the management consulting route and stumbled into journalism by way of a small FM radio station. After three years in Moscow’s CBS News and CNN bureaus, Watson reported from West Africa, Central Asia, Afghanistan, and Iraq. While he’s been based in Istanbul, Turkey, for the past five years, Watson headed back to Iraq earlier this month. Before jetting off to the Middle East, he sat down with mediabistro.com to talk about reporting in conflict zones, the ups and downs of foreign correspondence, and how he feels about returning to Iraq.


How did you get into journalism? Was it something you always wanted to do?
No, actually I hadn’t really imagined being a journalist. When I failed at getting a management consultant job, I interned at a little FM radio station at Martha’s Vineyard. Bill Clinton came to town and I followed him around as an intern. I thought it was the coolest thing. Things went from there.

You were a producer in CNN’s Moscow bureau in your 20s. What was it like to be abroad at a relatively young age?
It was an adventure. It was really exciting. I went on a trip to Russia and was getting job offers out of nowhere. I flew out there and found that you could call up bureaus and get meetings with bureau chiefs, whereas here in America I couldn’t even get past the door.

Describe your transition from working in television to radio. What spurred you to shift your professional direction in this way?
It was liberating. On the one hand, I felt a bit insecure because I lost the entourage of the sound man, the camera, and all that added infrastructure. Radio is very much a one-man band, it’s just you and a little microphone and ear buds. That was a real adjustment. Also, people react differently to the lens. Without the camera, people don’t act out as much. People are more relaxed and you can be much more discreet, and there are countries where that can help a lot. It gives you more freedom to move around and be a fly on the wall.

How has radio been affected by the rise of online journalism? What role does the Internet play in how you package your stories?
I can tell you where radio is now: I can be in some little village, interviewing somebody with my microphone, recorder, notebook, pen, and camera. I’m trying to juggle all these things at once. We’re already multitasking on such a level that it’s quite a challenge. But in some ways, it’s really fulfilling because you get to add images, print, and video to your radio report. Now when I see a story with a visual component, I get that much more excited because I know there’s the outlet for it now. We’ve hired a couple videographers and photographers here at NPR, which is funny for an organization called ‘National Public Radio.’

What do you think is the future of radio?
As long as there’s a society that’s trapped in cars for hours a day, we have a captive audience. A lot of people are asking what’s going to happen and a lot of people are nervous. We have a bit of a buffer, but things could change drastically. I should also say that I have a number of friends who have lost their jobs with newspapers because many [of them] have cut their foreign operations.

I feel a little bit more responsible because if I don’t report something that I see in a country, then I know that it will go unregistered.

The fear is that at a time where it seems we need more information about the world, there’s less of it out there. Sometimes I feel like the foreign correspondent is a dying breed. Even freelancers are having a harder time making ends meet because the newspapers don’t have the freelance budgets anymore. I’m by myself almost all the time now in these countries. It’s lonelier; you don’t have someone to bounce ideas off of or to share enthusiasm with. I feel a little bit more responsible because if I don’t report something that I see in a country then I know that it will go unregistered.

Which types of stories do you think are better told by radio than by a visual medium like television or Web video?
I’ll give you an example. One of the most intense moments of my career was when I was in a southern Iraqi town called Najaf. I was interviewing a man during Friday prayers next to a mosque. In the middle of the interview, a car bomb went off about a hundred feet from us. We captured that on audio as the tape was rolling. There’s something different about hearing the explosion and imagining it in your head. You have the sounds to guide you. You hear that spontaneous scream from the crowd. You hear — in the immediate moments afterwards — myself and the translator communicating and checking to make sure that we’re okay and that there’s no holes in us from the shrapnel. It’s one of the most terrifying pieces of media to listen to.

Some parts of the world are more tense, and it’s just easier to get into these places with a discreet microphone. You’re not as bogged down with all the technical aspects of production. In some ways, you can tell a very rich story because of that. You can find a very rich piece of audio texture — someone washing dishes or cleaning their gun — and then you fill in the space between that and someone talking. It’s just a different way of telling a story.

When have you been most afraid for your own personal safety while reporting abroad?

There was one incident about a year after that car bomb. I was driving to Najaf through Baghdad — through the so-called “triangle of death.” We had to drive through some very dangerous towns where journalists had just been kidnapped doing the same trip. To get to Najaf safely, or as safely as possible, my guide hid me under dirty laundry in the back seat. At some point on that journey, we came upon the aftermath of an ambush. A couple of Red Crescent trucks had been attacked and set on fire, right next to an empty police station. For some very terrifying minutes, I was convinced the car was going to come to a stop and I was going to be pulled out. I would be utterly powerless. It was an awful feeling. We moved through without being stopped and I went on to cover a battle where Marines were fighting Iraqi militants. That felt safer because I could judge the threat, I could see what was going on. In the car, I was just trapped in the back seat. That was a terrifying moment. After that tour, I asked not to go back to Baghdad. I didn’t really go back for two years, though I actually go back next week.

Sometimes when I stumble across a story that I know is important, I will contact other reporters and let them know that there is a humanitarian disaster going on. Otherwise, these stories won’t be on the radar.

How do you feel about going back?
My colleagues have been working there, and it’s my turn to do it again. It’s an important story. I guess I just have to trust myself and not take any stupid risks. I’m not sure what to expect this time because I think Baghdad transforms every year. The last time I was there, I was very surprised to see that private companies were driving around in these pickup trucks with gun carriers and armor. That hadn’t been there the year before. The city evolves as the threat evolves.

How do you insulate yourself from letting fear inhibit your work?
The curiosity and excitement motivates me — and it’s not all dangerous stuff. Sometimes you’re going to beautiful places and talking to interesting people. Just because you end up in a foreign country doesn’t mean it’s all dangerous. It’s also exotic and different. You get to try to communicate some of that culture back to America where people may not understand what it’s like in these countries.

How do you blow off steam when you’re working on a story far from home?
I run a lot. I found some pick-up soccer games here and there. In Kabul, I used to go horseback riding. I also used to go in Africa. I’m not much of a horseback-rider and I nearly killed myself a couple times. There was one time where I was galloping down this beach in the Ivory Coast at full speed, and then my saddle fell apart. I flew off of it and, fortunately, a wave was coming in and I landed in some water. In Afghanistan, there was a scene of me totally out of control, riding around this soccer field and Afghans staring at me.

Describe when your interactions with other foreign correspondents are friendliest, as well as when they are most competitive.
The correspondents are your lifeline, social network, and colleagues — all at the same time. I’m very dear friends with some of the correspondents in the places I’ve been. There’s so few foreign reporters in the countries I travel through that there isn’t that sort of competition. If anything, sometimes when I stumble across a story that I know is important, I will often contact other reporters and let them know that there is a humanitarian disaster going on. I’ll contact wire agencies. Otherwise, these stories won’t be on the radar back at the news hubs in the U.S. I will make a concerted effort to try to get other people to pay attention.

‘Journalists overseas are a kind of fraternity,’ you’ve said, indicating that you turn to them, rather than embassies, consulates, or even family and friends, in times of uncertainty or stress. Describe how foreign correspondents help one another abroad.
In the dangerous stuff, when you’re exploring places or when there’s a fluid situation with fighting, journalists are the people you consult with and talk with. Often when I’m going to a country that I haven’t been to or that I haven’t been to in a while, I’ll contact journalists there. There was actually a very interesting situation during the U.S. invasion of Iraq. I was in northern Iraq, and journalists were spread out along a very long front. We would text message each other saying things like, ‘Iraqi artillery being fired here,’ ‘Americans conducting air-strikes here,’ and ‘Heading back to town, want to meet for lunch?’ It was very strange.

You have said that covering conflicts like Afghanistan and Iraq have provided you with “on-the-job training.” Describe how that’s influenced how you report things out in your stories.
The best on-the-job training I had was being by myself in West Africa. That helped me deal with places like Afghanistan where you had no infrastructure, no electricity, and no telephones. It’s very different being in the field in the middle of nowhere versus being in a developed country where there are spokesmen and press releases.

I try to pick up very quickly what works and what doesn’t in terms of body language. There are also subjects you don’t want to address the wrong way.

The best lesson I was ever taught was when my boss said at one point during the Afghan war, ‘Forget the press releases and the press conferences coming out of the Pentagon, just report what you see. You’re the eyes and ears on the ground.’ That’s been a good rule to work with.

Upon joining NPR in December 2001 as a West Africa correspondent, how did you adjust the way you approached your work, versus how you worked while at CNN?
It was actually kind of scary at first because I had never been to Africa before. There was the race factor — the fact that I was the only white person anywhere for the first few days. I was scared to get out of the car. But then very quickly I got used to it, and it was great. It was more fun than Russia. Nigerians are great. They have a great sense of humor. That was an adjustment for sure. There’s cultural differences in all these places. I try to pick up very quickly what works and what doesn’t in terms of body language. There are also subjects you don’t want to address the wrong way. In polarized societies, you have to be really careful about saying the wrong thing about religion or a political group, or this or that. You kind of learn to fine-tune very quickly.

What was it like covering Central Asia and the Middle East for NPR following Sept. 11?
I just watched this sort of collision course between U.S. foreign policy and countries in the region escalate. This was not so much in terms of Afghanistan, but with Iraq. It just polarized everything and poisoned the atmosphere.

Can you describe what that looked like?
It looked like crowds burning American flags. It looked like the footage played on local television stations of Americans busting down doors in Iraq and kicking Iraqi people. Those images were played again, and again, and again in these Arab and Muslim countries. In Central Asia and the former Soviet Union, the word ‘democracy’ has become almost a joke. The U.S. invasion of Iraq seemed to give the go-ahead to every tin-pot dictator in the world to do whatever they want.

‘After Afghanistan, being in Northern Iraq seemed like a vacation,’ you’ve said. Exactly how did the two conflict zones differ so drastically?
Northern Iraq seemed like a vacation because it had more infrastructure. It had paved roads, it had kind of a service industry, it had some imports, and literacy rates were higher. It was just more comfortable.

When you were in Iraq, what was your relationship with American forces? How did your access to them play into your coverage?
During the U.S. invasion of Iraq, they were trying to be discreet and hide from the press. Later on, they weren’t as worried and we could sit next to the Special Forces. We could actually watch them call in air-strikes without being embedded. At that point, there wasn’t an embed option there. But if you just asked, “Hey can I stick around?” sometimes those guys were very cooperative. Later on, the whole thing became more structured and the embed system was set up.

What do you think are the pros and cons of embedding?
When you’re embedded, you’re looking through the lens of the U.S. military in a foreign country. You’re on a base with them, driving around in their vehicles. You’re in armor with an armed group. It’s a very different perspective — just like if I were running around with an Iraqi insurgent group or militia, or if I was staying with an Iraqi family, I would see the world from a very different perspective.

Hopefully the public trusts us that we don’t have an agenda. We’re just trying to tell you about this really complicated world and bring it home to people.

Do you find it difficult to keep from letting your political views infiltrate your reporting? Why or why not?
You always have to try to be as objective as possible. I think I’m conservative about the language I use, and I try to let the people speak for themselves. We also have a pretty rigorous editing process. If I slip up in one place or another, I have an editor who will be very quick to tell me if something’s inappropriate. Fortunately that doesn’t happen too much. You have to be conscious of your biases and try to paint as balanced a picture as possible. Hopefully the public trusts us that we don’t have an agenda — we’re just trying to tell you about this really complicated world and bring it home to people.

What does a typical day look like when you’re covering a foreign country?
For example in Libya, the government assigns you a translator-guide. I would start the day trying to get some newspaper articles from the Internet and then start working the phones — trying desperately to set up interviews with everyone from academics to government officials to people from the United Nations. Libya is a very closed-off society so it was very difficult to get somebody to talk to me there. And then it was just running out, drinking endless coffee and tea, talking to this person or that person. I just try to figure out a country that’s very different from my own and then explain it to folks at home.

What do your editors at NPR do that helps you most while you’re out in the field covering stories?
They’ve had some really good ideas. They’ve spent decades reporting in the Middle East and Southeast Asia. They’ve seen a lot and done a lot. Experience is vital to avoid certain traps. I’ve picked up some skills along the way as well. When you get to a country you want to be as open minded as possible and just start talking to people — from the laborer down the street, to the businessman who has a European passport and will offer you a Scotch, to the priest who is very conservative, to a woman. It’s tough in societies where you’re not allowed to approach one group or another because of various restrictions. I’ve been invited into homes in Iraq, where you sit down in the living room with the husband. He’ll go to the kitchen door and a hand will come out and pass him some tea. You’re not even allowed to see this woman, and yet this guy is playing Jay-Z in his car when he’s driving around.

What are the major issues you cover now that you’re based in Turkey?
There is the constant dilemma of the role that religion and Islam play in a country that is officially supposed to be a secular republic. There’s a clash between an elected government that wants more religious freedom for Muslims, and a bureaucratic elite that’s closely associated with the military that views any religion, especially Islam, with distrust. Right now, the secularists are trying to ban the governing political party from politics for the next five years. Turkey is interesting because it is a Muslim-populated country that has been going through changes and reform, not at the barrel of a gun but through a democratically elected party that is tied to Islam.

Do you foresee being there for the next few years?
I’ve been there for the past five years. My boss has proposed other posts, but it’s a very beautiful city. Istanbul is a tough city to leave.

Will you ever report from America?

I went on a reporting trip last month to southern Missouri and met with a family that I’m doing a profile of. It was like visiting a foreign country where everybody speaks my language. It was very fascinating. I’d like to do some more of that.

What do you consider the highlight of your journalism career so far?
A highlight would be running into Kabul the morning after the Taliban fled town — that was pretty incredible. It was also exciting to be with the Kurds when Saddam was overthrown. It’s also the funny moments that stick out — like coming across a guy in Libya with a Castro beard and a Che Guevara beret who’s a hydraulic geologist expert.

Another highlight was during the Israeli-Hezbollah war. One day, we went to a town that had just been hit by a series of air-strikes. I watched bodies get pulled out of flattened buildings. We got to the third of three buildings and somebody said, “There’s someone alive down there. She’s stuck.” The rescue workers just kept digging and digging. I was over the hole with a microphone and I could hear her screaming. I stayed there for hours. Sure enough, close to sunset, they managed to pull this woman out. I had seen so much death and destruction for those six weeks that this woman being pulled out was somewhere deep down very symbolic for me. I just thought, “There’s still hope in the world.”

One of the saddest points of my career was writing Marla Ruzicka’s obituary after she died in a suicide bombing. This was a young woman who went to Afghanistan and Iraq to help war victims. She went on her own dime and on her own savings. In writing her obituary, I listened to some of the audio from some of the interviews we’d done and heard her incredible will power to change the world for the better. She made a huge impact on a lot of people.

Watson’s tips for success
1. Forget the press releases and spokespeople: Be the eyes and ears on the ground
2. Be open-minded: Talk to as many people as you can
3. Be conscious of your biases: Paint as balanced a picture as possible
4. Look for a visual component:: Given the rise of online journalism, be sure to complement a radio piece with images
5. Remember that it’s not all dangerous: It’s also exotic and exciting


Kathryn Carlson is an editorial intern at mediabistro.com and a graduate journalism student at New York University.

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