update, Ukraine, update, Ukraine, update....

I know, I promised to write more... well, this is more! I'm still getting back into the swing of it... and it's not as if I don't mean to write, I just don't find the time... Or rather, I'm going to blame it on that.

So, last time I was excited about going to Ukraine. It was definitely an experience. The following is partially from the document I had to write for the insurance company for work... I've added quite a bit though...

"We landed on flight BD 851 from London Heathrow to Kiev International at about 3:30 PM on Thursday, October 8th. The football match we were covering was on Saturday, on the other side of the country in a city called Dnipropetrovsk.

After passing through passport control (which took ages) we proceeded to the luggage pick up where we found that one of our bags – the oversize one carrying our tripod and monopod – was missing. We had had to bring this bag to a special drop off point at Heathrow. While we were looking for it another passenger told me that she was also missing her oversize luggage from the same flight.

My colleague (let's call him Joe) made the claim at the lost luggage counter as he had checked in the bag. The woman at the counter told us it would be delivered to us in Dnipropetrovsk as that was our final destination. She also told us to call the next morning to find out where the luggage was and when it would arrive.

I proceeded to customs where we had to have our carnet (an official document listing the equipment we would bring in and out of the country- cameras, lights, cables, etc...) signed before entering the country. When the customs agent asked if we had all of the equipment listed I told her about the missing tripod.

Over a period of about three hours it was conveyed that we would not be allowed to enter the country with our equipment if any one piece of it was missing. We tried to reason that it was the airline that lost our luggage and would be delivering it to us, but that was not accepted by them. Even after showing them the proof that we claimed for lost luggage.

After another two and half hours of trying to haggle with them to let us bring our cameras with us, we were forced to leave the rest of our equipment in a locked room in the customs department at the airport.

At this point we had met at Heathrow at 6:30 in the morning, flown to Kiev, stood in the queue for passport control for an hour and a half, and then sat and argued in customs for about five hours... we were tired, no exhausted. Keep in mind, there is no food or water in customs and at no point were we offered any or a way of getting any.

We finally got to our hotel at 10:30 PM (Kiev time, so 8:30 PM London time)...

Joe and I missed our 7 AM train to Dnipropetrovsk as we couldn’t leave Kiev without our camera kits. I was disappointed about this part more than anything. The trains there are like the old fashioned ones, with individual compartments, like the kind in old spy movies... I was looking forward to that. Oh well.

BMI couldn’t tell us where the luggage was when we called in the morning, but we were assured by someone that it would be on that day’s flight from London arriving around 2:30 PM. We called the lost luggage number given to us at 2:30 PM to see if they knew whether it was on that flight or not and they told me to ring back in an hour. I called again at 3:30 PM and was told, again, to call back in an hour. I called back again at 5 PM (giving them an extra 30 minutes) and no one answered. I called again for the next 15 minutes and no one answered, so Joe and I headed to the airport because we knew there had to be someone there and either way we were going to get our equipment.

We had spent the majority of the day in negotiations with the British Embassy and customs trying to figure out a way for us to get our camera kits if the tripod didn't arrive. We had to prvide copies of loads of documents, as well as a letter written, in Ukrainian, to customs. I have to say the Embassy was amazing with all of their help. They translated everything that needed translating and sent it all to the appropriate people.

We arrived at the airport at 7 PM on Friday evening, and after some delay, and without any assistance, managed to get the tripod and monopod (which had arrived on the 2:30 flight) returned to us. We then had to spend another two hours in customs to retrieve the rest of our equipment.

While we were in customs, we were supposed to be at a press conference and England training photo call in Dnipropetrovsk; we missed them because of our missing luggage. So that was more than half of our job that we couldn't do.

The office, back in London, arranged for us to stay in our hotel another night, though we had to change rooms, and booked us on a flight for the next (Saturday) morning's 11 AM flight to Dnipropetrovsk.

The only good that came of the lost luggage was that I actually got to spend about two hours wandering around Kiev.

Independence Square, Kiev

St Michael's Cathedral, Kiev

To buy beer you choose by looking in the window and then order it from the shopkeeper who is behind glass...

A street like any other, Kiev

Life in Kiev

So on Saturday morning we went to the airport, three hours early, only to find out that check-in only started an hour and a half before boarding. (Another 3 hours racked up in Kiev airport!) We got to Dnipro fine, checked into our hotel, ate some lunch, had a nap and headed to the stadium for the match.

Lenin Statue, Lenin Square, Dnipropetrovsk, Ukraine

Karl Marx Ave, Dnipropetrovsk, Ukraine

It was definitely an interesting game. England had already made it to the World Cup, but Ukraine had to win or they wouldn't make it to the next round. Well, they did score, but only because England scored on itself.

Early in the match the Ukrainian fans decided it would be a good idea to throw flares onto the pitch and the English goalie, setting the pitch on fire...

ooh! What's going on over there?

See the firemen?

It was interesting to say the least.

I could write a whole novella about the whole trip, but I'll just say that the food was the same in every (and I mean every) restaurant, the people weren't very friendly, and there wasn't anything particularly interesting to see... It just seemed like the whole country was suffering from a really bad communist hangover.

While I am glad I got to have the experience, and I probably wouldn't change it, but I also wouldn't wish it on anyone...

***
Coming up... the really important stuff about life in london, work, love and, of course, the weather... stay tuned!

good timing

For those of you who don't know, I had a job interview this week. I applied internally at work for a video journalist position that opened up and figured I'd give it a shot. They've been sending me out reporting for a few weeks when there was no one else to go, which has been fantastic!

So, I was eagerly awaiting my interview, which was with the two people my desk is sandwiched in between. The interview started with a picture test, where I had to look at an image of something or someone that has been in the news and name it and why it was important. I only got seven out of ten... bad me. I recognised them all, but you can't retain everything, can you? Anyway, then I had to take seven stories from that day and choose four to make a news bulletin. I had to explain why I chose the order I did and also what video and interviews I would get to make a good story. I also had to explain how I might make them into a 1:30 package.

Then came the actual interview with the people I sit to next to all day, everyday. They asked some of the typical questions... why are you applying? Who is responsible for knowing about the story before you go out? What would I check for in my kit before leaving? What kind of experience do I have? etc...

It went well, probably in part because I sit next to these people so I wasn't really nervous. It was easy to talk to them and I answered the questions to the best of my ability. But I didn't feel great about it when I walked out. I didn't think when I applied that they would give it to me anyway, and after the interview I was certain that they wouldn't choose me. Not to mention that then they'd have to replace me and I'm so good at my job that they'd want to keep me there. This has happened to me in the past.

But, the stars must have been aligned and in my favour, because on Thursday morning, not 24 hours after my interview they offered me the job!!! I am (or will be as soon as they replace me) the newest VIDEO JOURNALIST at my office!

For those of you who don't know me that well, this is something I have dreamed of since university. This is the reason I am in London. Six months after getting here, I have landed my dream job. I still can't believe it... It won't really sink in until I start. I've always wanted to move to England and there has to be a reason for that, I'm starting to realise that I was right all along and apparently I've come at the right time.

it's sunday

As promised in my previous update, here I am!

I encourage you to scroll down and read my last entry, as it was rather comprehensive and there are some nice photos. In case, you don't though, I've decided to post on Sunday every week, just so that there's always something fresh here. It's possible that I may post more often, but Sunday's will be the minimum.

Since I last posted on Thursday, I don't have much to write...

But, on Friday I got to go do an interview again, this time it was for "the Big Story", which was about a celebrity wedding... I got to interview a woman from the Daily Express newspaper. I didn't get to edit or package the video afterwards, which is too bad, but it was still nice to get out and about. The only thing wrong with my interview was that in a few of the shots my microphone is showing... :( boo. It was a particularly bright day and the itty bitty screen on my camera and the fact that I couldn't be looking at it throughout the interview meant that I didn't realise until I got back to the office. Oh well... I still got compliments on the aesthetics of the shot... it does look really nice... check it out here. I think it's pretty obvious which part of the pack I shot, but just in case, it's the woman who is talking throughout and not the shots from Italy!

Friday night, after a few pints with a work mate, I went to see Gnarls Barkley with a few friends. I didn't know who they were until Friday and was told that I would only know one of their songs... and I did. It's that song 'Crazy' that plays all the time... maybe you know it too? Probably. Anyway, it was a good gig (as they call shows here) and afterwards we all went for a couple of drinks a little closer to home.

Saturday was a BBQ at L's, sans L. Her flatmate, K, had a barbee for all her kiwi friends, so I met a load of people and saw a bunch I already knew. There was so much food that I can't even remember everything that we had, burgers, sausages, shrimp, salmon, asparagus, salads of all descript, garlic bread, oh and beer. Lots of beer. The weather could have been better, but it only dripped a little rain on us for about five minutes and then we had clear skies.

Today has been a lovely sunny day, but not too warm. I covered all the basics today, cleaning, laundry, gym... and now, blogging. That's it, I'm done with this week and am almost ready for the next one to begin... hopefully it will be just as good as the last.

updates

I think I need to pick a day of the week to write posts... and stick to it. That way I won't go weeks without posting anything at all. I like to think that's it's because I'm oh-so-busy all the time, and I am, but not so much that I can't take a little time to update you all. I will stop apologising for it though, as I've been told that I say "I'm sorry" too much.

SO, that being said, I think that posting day will from now on be Sunday evenings, my time, which is Greenwich Mean Time (since I live a few miles away).

I've had one of the best weeks in London since I arrived. The weekend was fabulous, with a Korean dinner night with nine friends (seven of which are Kiwis). We went to Myungga, a little Korean restaurant in Soho. The food wasn't as good as the first time I went a few months ago, but it's some of the best Korean I've had since I was there. We had a bit of everything kimchi-jeon, bulgogi, bibimbap, all the sides (including five kinds of kimchi), dwen-jeong jigae (sp?), deok bokki, ummm... what else? soju and beer, and more food too, but the names are escaping me. I'm really tired.

After dinner we went out for drinks in Soho and headed home at the early hour of 12:30. I had to be up at 6:30 to drive to Feckenham (of Christmas with the Cotton's fame), which is south of Birmingham and about a two hour drive.

It was my 'surrogate' mother's birthday a couple of weeks ago, so L and I drove up spend the day. It was lovely to be in the country on a nice sunny day. We went to the market and picked up some fresh veggies and other supplies. Then we headed to a small artists market where there was a glass blowers studio that reminded me of C and L and my other surrogate family in Canada. There was a beautiful garden out back with some gorgeous flowers and a really old rusted tractor-like contraption - I got some great photos... as you can see.










After the market we headed home, walked the dog and had a tasty barbecue in the garden. Then we had to head back to London... We arrived pretty late so didn't do anything. Sunday was devoted to cleaning, laundry, gym etc... it was one of the first really nice days here in a few weeks, so I spent an hour outside working on my pallid skin, but I think I'll have to wait until I go to Greece in August to get some real colour.

Probably the best bit of the last week has been going "out" on the job at work. I've gone out to film and interview for the last three days in a row! I interviewed Jerry Hall on Monday, then a cabinet minister on Tuesday, and today I got to go to the National Portrait Gallery and shoot the BP National Portrait Awards. It was fantastic... now if only I could be doing it all day everyday.... That should be enough said about that. I don't want to Dooce myself.

Now that we're up to date, expect regular posts on Sundays... maybe more if I'm feeling the urge.

Bachelor of Arts with distinction Specialization Journalism

well, today was the day. convocation. having been laid up for the last 5 days, i was quite looking forward to getting out of the house and (finally) getting my degree. i was feeling pretty good this morning and managed to take a shower, get dressed, put on my make-up, etc... basically get ready for the big event. now, don't get me wrong, i wasn't feeling so great that i could do much more than get ready and then lie down for five or ten minutes. it was a long process, but i did it and still felt good enough to go to the ceremony. i think though, that if it had been any other event i wouldn't have gone. this was the ONE chance in my entire life to get my B.A. and share the moment with my classmates, friends, and family. it is a once in a lifetime deal - and as usual, i decided to deal with the consequences later. (which i am paying for now.)

the ceremony took place at Place des Arts, in Montreal, the last (and only) time i was there (before today) was when i was in grade 8 or 9 and saw the Phantom of the Opera. the stage was decorated in our school colours, huge bouquets of flowers, and of course, chairs for all of the deans, professors, etc...

the ceremony was long, it was sort of boring, and it was painful. since my lower back is in spasm (prev. post) any position other than lying down is painful. so sitting in the old crappy theatre chairs didn't help. about an hour in, i decided it would be better to stand, so i did. i stood on the side until my row stood up and we got in line for our turns on stage.

it kind of sucked being backstage, in line, while all of my friends were crossing the stage. i would have preferred seeing them up there instead of the entire faculty of economics. but i cheered for them anyway.

i was standing on the side of the stage and before i knew it, it was my turn. i gave my marshall card to a woman and walked to the podium. standing before me, Joanne L. (i interviewed her in the fall semester for a story that i was doing for TV), i was so surprised to see her that i didn't really have time to be nervous about being in front of so many people. i also magically forgot that my back was out and i walked to the president who "capped" me. this is when he hovers a funny hat over my head while getting my photo taken... i'll post it when i get it. then Enn the director of the department was standing at the other end of the stage holding a big white envelope containing my coveted degree. i walked towards him and pain shot through my leg, but i didn't flinch. i shook his hand, took my degree, and walked to the stairs. i stopped for a second to wave to everyone with a face splitting smile. (seems to me, that should be when they take your photo, not with the silly "sorting hat"! )

anyway, that's it. thirty seconds of my life that i will never forget...especially since i'm still not convinced that it was worth the pain that i'm in now. hopefully by tomorrow i'll feel a little more like i did this morning. so until next time...

The Real Stephen Harper?

i know this is a canwest story... but i read it in the paper yesterday and thought that i would share it with all of you... he is a wily mother f***er... and he's taking our wonderful country right down the tubes...


Angry Albertan returns
The old, prickly Harper is back, and he is showing, his contempt for Parliament and the media

DON MARTIN, CanWest News Service
Published: Saturday, May 20, 2006

He emerged from the squeaker Commons vote on extending the Afghanistan mission, ignored the speaking podium his staff had set up and waved off questions until he could climb a handful of steps toward his second-floor office.

Having reached the desired altitude for showcasing his superior attitude in vintage Brian Mulroney style, Stephen Harper turned to lord over the assembled media with his message.
Free advice to the prime minister: Until you shape up, being filmed from below creates seriously lousy television optics. That button-straining gut fills the screen and the downward stare adds a chin or two.

No, this isn't another tired rant about Harper holding journalists in disdain, which he does and we'd best get used to it because it's going to get worse. I can't believe Fox News is up here collecting footage for a story on this showdown. It's an inside problem of scant outside interest.

But Harper holding Parliament in contempt is a legitimate public concern - and he does. And it will worsen.

In just three days this week, there have been three examples of Harper's churlish disregard for a democratic institution he repeatedly pretended to value during his stint in official opposition.

We've witnessed the return of the angry Albertan, the bitter and hard-done-by personality his image-enhancers thought they'd licked into likeable submission during the last election campaign.

Signs of the old Harper first flared during his furious reaction to the parliamentary committee that nixed his nomination of retired oilman Gwyn Morgan as the first chairperson of his new Public Appointments Commission. It was a horribly bad and frustrating decision, but angrily killing the commission until he controls Parliament through majority rule is a Grade 3 recess reaction.

Harper then used the back door to effectively kill the federal gun registry without parliamentary approval. It was born on the floor of the House of Commons a billion dollars ago and should die there, too. But Harper chose to pull the plug through an amnesty for low-calibre criminals, pending some unspecified future date when he'll have the inclination to request its euthanasia in the Commons.

The kicker was his offhanded warning Wednesday that this prime minister would refuse to accept a negative verdict from the House of Commons on extending the Afghanistan deployment.

Even if the vote goes against the government, "we will proceed with another year," Harper said. "And if we need further efforts or a further mandate to go ahead into the future, we will do so alone and we will go to the Canadian people to get that mandate."

Now there's parliamentary respect for you - telling MPs their vote simply doesn't matter even as they start a six-hour discussion on what is certain to be a death sentence for dozens of soldiers, a debate that Harper had announced just two days earlier.

And there was something hypocritical about the government's glee at watching the Liberal solidarity fracture over the question. Former free-vote advocate Harper had whipped his caucus into submission, refusing to allow anyone to vote their conscience on the question. That makes it easy to appear united. But the Liberal leader let his MPs vote their conscience, a division that arguably more accurately reflects Canadian opinion on the conflict.

It was a lousy week for parliamentary respect and suggests Harper learned a thing or two from the previous Liberal reign.

As one Conservative MP observed not long ago, "it is the Parliament that's supposed to run the country, not just the largest party and the single leader of that party." The speaker? None other than, drum roll please, official opposition leader Stephen Harper, circa 2004.

"If the Liberals think they can walk in and make Parliament not work because they refuse to co-operate or consult, they're in for a rude awakening. So I would urge them to get over the fact they don't have a majority, which they believe is their God-given right, and get on with making Parliament effective." So who's that talking? Why more two-year-old comments by Harper.

From afar, Harper might look decisive and principled. Up close, he looks increasingly angry, unparliamentary and, if he persists in scrumming on stairs instead of running up them, chunky.

© The Gazette (Montreal) 2006

This Other Eden

I read this book at the suggestion of a friend who is never wrong about books. i wrote this review for a class and it was published in the Concordian - a student newspaper at Concordia - last fall. it's a fantastic book, you should pick it up.



Set in the near future, This Other Eden by Ben Elton, shows readers what the future may look like if the Earth’s global environment continues down its current path. His vision is not a stereotypical view of the future. The air is deadly to breathe, the ozone is completely depleted, and most big cities have switched to operating at night to save the population from being exposed to the sun. Eco-death will soon be a reality and this puts the average human in quite a predicament. Should people put their energy and money into trying to save the planet? Or should they buy a claustrosphere (a self-contained unit designed to support life after eco-death) and ride out the storm?

Mother Earth is an ecological terrorist group based in Europe. They are pitted against the Claustrosphere Corporation, and while they are busy trying to convince people to save the planet, the FBI is interested in finding out who is funding them. A world away in Los Angeles, a narcissistic actor is auditioning for Plastic Tolstoy, sole owner of the world’s largest media conglomerate. The activists versus the corporation and the earth versus humankind are running themes. The story operates on several levels: the story of the eart and how it is being crippled by humanity, the story of Mother Earth, the environmental terrorists who are trying to save the planet, mingled with the story of Plastic Tolstoy, the man behind the claustrosphere. The stories, which are carried by the main characters, weave through each other throughout the book.

Anti-earth-death activists, a Norse God-like figure, a male FBI agent named Judy, a male super-model who never quite gets it, a heart-broken film writer, and an egomaniacal millionaire make up just a few of the main characters. Most of them are likeable, a few detestable but they are all are well rounded and vivid. Together with the narrator (who speaks of the future in a cynical and satirical way) the characters help draw you into the bizarre world that Elton has created, and in the back of your mind, you can’t help but wonder if this really is what the future holds. There are no aliens or far-fetched laser-guns, just humankind destroying the planet that gives them life, and trying to make as much money as possible before they finish the job.

The feeling of reality is part of what makes This Other Eden more than a satire of the world we live in. One can look at this story and see it actually happen to us, whether in the distant future or right around the corner. Elton shows us a satirical view of the potential of human good and evil.

I would put this book in rank with George Orwell’s 1984, Aldous Huxley’s A Brave New World and Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake. Anyone interested in media, activism and/or who is looking for a great read should check out this book.

Strut your stuff...

I went for a nice walk today down Sherbrooke Street to the Westmount Library and back. It made me think about a column i wrote last semester about sidewalk etiquette. So, here it is:


Montrealers are the worst drivers. It’s hardly a fact, but everyone knows it’s true. There’s no denying that we all see cars running reds, cutting people off, or triple parking downtown. But if you think that almost getting hit by a dozen cars on a Sunday stroll is bad, try taking that stroll down a crowded Montreal sidewalk. Now that I think about it, please don’t because then you’ll probably get in my way, and you never know when you might meet a member of the ‘sidewalk patrol’. No, it isn’t the Quebec Governments’ newest department; it’s a figment of my imagination (and oh, how I wish it were real). And, no, I haven’t lost my mind; I just think that it’s high time that Montrealers acquired at least some sidewalk etiquette.

Bumping into people walking on the sidewalk by accident is normal, isn’t it? It happens all the time, at least to me. But in Montreal, we (should and sometimes have to) take our walking seriously. Nobody is going anywhere slowly when it’s February and it’s minus forty, and if you are, then this article is for you. It should be illegal to just meander down Ste. Catherine Street in downtown Montreal; instead, you should look at the sidewalk as a sort of obstacle course. Which if you are lucky enough to pass, you will hopefully end up in the correct destination.

The first ‘rule’ (or if I were dictator of the world, ‘law’) of sidewalk etiquette is to stay on the right side. Since this works on actual roads (with cars) we need to remember that sidewalks are roads for people. If everybody stayed in the right ‘lane’ then you wouldn’t be constantly trying to get around people who are walking towards you. Of course, passing is allowed, but the maneuver needs to be performed exactly like when it’s done in a car. Make sure there is enough time to pass and check that no one is trying to pass you. This also means that groups of people walking together need to adjust their width accordingly. A group of people taking up the entire sidewalk and forcing you to squeeze by should receive a hefty fine. The government could use the money earned to make the sidewalks bigger, possibly paint lines on them, and to enforce the new ‘laws’.

The second rule is to follow the speed of the flow of traffic. Perhaps money earned from ‘slow tickets’ could pay for signs posting the minimum steps per minute. If people were unable to keep up with the flow of traffic, they would have to stay as far to the right as possible. The outer lane, or ‘street lane’ would be for walking fast, no window-shopping from the left lane at all, (imagine all the money the government could make!) while the inner lane, or ‘store lane’ would be for the slow, window shopping, bag carrying, get in your way sort of people. The middle lane is used for passing and turning.

The third rule is to always indicate in some way before stopping in your tracks, turning around, and bumping into the person walking behind you. How many romance movies have broken this rule? I certainly don’t want to meet some stranger because he smashed into me from not having looked where he was going, or vice versa. It doesn’t mean that we are meant to be together; it means that one of us is a klutz.

And it’ll probably be me.

TV and Me...

I spent the morning at school burning dvd’s of Concordia Reports…the TV show we spent the past year producing for Advanced Television News. I was on a team of eight Amy, Elyse, Rebecca, Melissa, Bruno, Melissa, Maya, and myself. We had to produce 20 minute long television news shows. One was a theme show (relationships), the rest were news shows with entertainment, news packages, voice overs, editorials, sports, and bumpers. It took a lot of organizational skills to get everyone together and on the same page all the time, but we survived it. Now we're all ready for the real world!!! Anyway, here it is:

Concordia Reports Final Show

Concordia Reports Show 4

They're both just over 20 minutes long... i worked on various aspects of both of them, from shooting, writing, researching, editing, location scouting...etc... i shot the hosts for the final show and also wrote, shot, and edited the Ralph Nader voice over which is the lead story. Anyway, check them out if you have time... it's pretty interesting what we can do with a few video cameras and a couple of computers.

Enjoy the show!

The Psychology of War and Trauma Reporting

An essay by Elizabeth Mavor

Whether covering conflict and war zones around the world, or murders and court cases in their own backyards, bearing witness to traumatic events is often part of a journalists’ work. For some, the thrill of reporting from war zones is enough to sustain them, for others, trauma is a reality that prevents them from leading a “normal” life. One journalist upon his return home from Bosnia said, “I was not feeling well. I wasn’t sure of what was wrong with me. I knew it was work related and I knew it was specifically conflict related.”

While only a handful of studies have been carried out to understand the effects of trauma on journalists, the findings are similar in all of them – trauma does affect journalists. One study found the lifetime prevalence of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in war journalists was almost three times that of police officers and other trauma responders. A high rate of exposure to violence and its stressful results were also supported in a study of American newspaper journalists covering the local crime beat. However, trauma and psychological issues among journalists remains a taboo subject.

“An unwritten code among journalists holds that no assignment, no matter how brutal, can defy one’s capacity to take a photograph, gather facts, and produce a story. Moreover it is part of the code that the journalist then proceeds to the next assignment without acknowledging or treating the emotional toll of the tragic event.” What is posttraumatic stress disorder? Why do some journalists choose to cover conflict? Why do some journalists “make it” in war reporting, while others do not? What does exposure to traumatic events do to foreign and local reporters? Through examining these questions this paper will identify the role of psychology in the lives of reporters around the world.

Posttraumatic stress disorder first appeared in the American Psychiatric Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders in 1980. In order to be diagnosed with PTSD “an individual must have experienced or witnessed an event that involved actual or threatened death or serious injury. Responses to this must involve fear, helplessness or horror. ” As well, a specified number of symptoms from the PTSD triad must be present. The triad is made up of three categories: intrusion, avoidance and arousal.

“‘There are a lot of situations that stay with you. Nightmares. I find myself abusing alcohol and drugs in order not to remember my dreams.’” Recurring dreams, nightmares and flashbacks are all symptoms of intrusion. Flashbacks and memories can strike at any time, often giving the person the feeling of “actually experiencing the trauma again or seeing it unfold before their eyes and in nightmares.” A study, by Dr. Anthony Feinstein, of the University of Toronto, released in 2003 showed that 77 per cent of war journalists experienced flashbacks and involuntary recollections. The study also showed that even journalists who did not have PTSD showed abnormally high symptoms of intrusion.

The second group of symptoms in the triad are those of avoidance. “The person feels numb, has diminished emotions, and can complete only routine, mechanical activities.” Many journalists returning from covering traumatic events report difficulties in returning to normal life and in carrying on personal relationships. Less than 45 per cent of war journalists are married compared with over 80 per cent in the aged matched general population.

Arousal – the last symptoms of the triad – includes “difficulties with sleep, irritability or temper outbursts and poor concentration.” According to Feinstein, hypervigilance and an exaggerated startle response are the most common of the arousal symptoms. After returning to London from Grozny, a cameraman describes how he is different from the other local journalists covering an arrest. “I was just standing there and this lorry drove over a plastic bottle and it sort of exploded, and you have never seen anyone hit the deck so quickly. And everyone just looked at me and said, ‘God, what’s wrong with you?’”

The symptoms that make up the PTSD triad tell us that journalists who are exposed to traumatic events don’t just go on to the next assignment, as the unwritten code would have us think. Journalists carry around stories of close calls and near death with them for the rest of their lives. Although some journalists deal better – Feinsteins study showed that 70 per cent of war journalists do not suffer from PTSD. This does not, however, mean that these journalists do not experience higher than average mental disorders – they do. Even journalists without PTSD scored higher across the board in the triad symptoms.

“Journalists race around in search of civil war, secretly happiest when they sign off from some hell hole where the bodies are stacking up and the omens of apocalypse are most vivid.” Journalist Fergal Keane doesn’t have a definitive answer to why some journalists choose to go to war, Feinsteins’ study reveals several possible explanations.
“What I got out of war was a buzz.” Where does the buzz come from? The Sensation-Seeking Scale (SSS) can help in determining reasons why war journalists put their lives on the line for the adrenaline rush. The four chief features of sensation-seeking behavior are “thrill and adventure seeking, experience seeking, disinhibition, and boredom susceptibility.” Results from years of SSS scores have identified certain key demographics that apply to the war journalist. Data take from the general population shows that men tend to have higher SSS scores than women. This can help explain why three quarters of war journalists are men. Also, SSS scores decline with age, which also draws a parallel to war journalists – their mean age being in the mid-30’s.

Although sensation seeking is one potential explanation for war journalists to continue to put their lives in danger, Feinstein posits that a person neurophysiological makeup may also be part of the answer. “It is at this level that a few key neurotransmitters and hormones modulate novelty-driven behavior. Neurotransmitters are chemical messengers that carry information from one nerve in the brain to another. Neurotransmission underlies every aspect of human behavior.” When journalists like Keane talk about the “buzz” or the high they get from war zones, it is a physical reaction that their bodies are creating. Adrenaline speeds up the heart rate, increases breathing and induces sweating. But it is not adrenaline that controls sensation-seeking behaviour it is dopamine.

There are two ways that dopamine can be broken down in the brain, through the enzyme monoamine oxidase (MAO) or by conversion to noradrenaline (a pre-cursor of adrenaline). Studies have shown that low levels of MAO are correlated to high SSS scores. “The inference is that low levels of MAO lead to high levels of dopamine, and that in turn manifests as pronounced sensation-seeking behavior.” No study has ever been done to find out the MAO levels of journalists, but it is impossible to attribute the why of war journalism to physiology alone. While it may, in fact, be impossible to determine why journalists do what they do, we can assume from the Feinsteins’ findings that physiology can play a role.

Thus far we have been looking at war reporters who usually live in the west and are able to go home at the end of a period of time, but what about journalists who cover conflict and violence locally? “As the years of street-reporting experience increase, reporters and photographers are morel likely to suffer behavior symptoms akin to those experienced by victims of trauma in public-safety work.” These “local” findings are similar to Feinsteins’ international study. Symptoms of both intrusion and avoidance were high in local journalists covering traumatic events. Though no study has been done to test for PTSD specifically in local journalists, there has been enough evidence to support a correlation between witnessing traumatic events and journalists who “burn out” or have breakdowns. In their book, Covering Violence, Coté and Williams show that journalists are affected by violence from the first assignment they cover. Mark Pinsky, a veteran crime reporter in the USA stopped working the crime beat because he felt couldn’t do it anymore. Twelve years later he had the choice to go back to crime reporting, or lose his job. He chose the crime beat. “I found the pace un-relenting, the beat more grueling than ever. It wasn’t that the murder beat had changed over the years. I had.” Pinsky says that there are two major pitfalls for journalists covering crime. “If you protect yourself too much by screening out the unpleasantness, you cheat the reader by failing to convey the horror, which is, after all, your job. On the other hand, if you allow yourself to absorb the reality of what you see and hear, you run the risk of destroying yourself emotionally.” He came to this conclusion more than a decade after leaving the crime beat, this is telling of the lasting effects of violence on journalists.

We have seen that journalists who work abroad covering war and conflict are at a much higher lifetime prevalence rate of PTSD We have also seen a correlation between covering traumatic events and local journalists developing emotional problems as a result of their job. What is being done in the industry to help professionals deal with the stresses that are inherent in their jobs? Coté and Simpson offer suggestion for coping with covering crime.

First the responsibility of the employer needs to be addressed. Because of the “macho” culture among journalists, there needs to be a system in place for journalists to get help anonymously. After a crime reporter witnessed the shooting of a suspect by police the journalist was showing signs of depression. A police officer at the station suggested that the reporter see a police psychologist. “The newspaper’s management had not suggested that the reporter talk to a counselor.” Feinstein found similar results in his study, “journalists who over the course of their careers developed a disorder like PTSD or became seriously depressed seldom received treatment.” Feinstein doesn’t put all of the blame on news organizations, or journalists, but rather a combination of both. “This neglect, at times approaching disdain, was part of a wider macho culture of silence that historically has enveloped the profession when it came to psychological health and other emotionally freighted issues.” The macho culture continues, but slowly the industry is taking psychological health more seriously. Many news organizations now offer professional counseling to their staff, as well as training sessions for journalists who will be going to war zones.

“Every effort should be made to ensure that the facts are not distorted by a journalist’s depression, anxiety, substance abuse or post-traumatic stress disorder, for all these conditions may act as a biased filter through which a particular event, emotional in itself, is viewed.” Journalists need to understand that they are not invincible as “the code” would have them believe, and news organizations need to create safety nets and training programs for their employees. Only when the industry as a whole can recognize that there is a problem, can it begin to be solved. The first step is for journalists to recognize that they are vulnerable.

Bibliography

APA - American Psychiatric Association 1999 “APA Let’s Talk Facts About…Posttraumatic Stress Disorder” retrieved from http://www.psych.org/disasterpsych/fs/ptsd.cfm. April 2, 2006.

Coté, William & Roger Simpson. 2000. Covering Violence. New York: Columbia University Press.

Feinstein, Anthony. 2003. Dangerous Lives: War and the Men and Women Who Report It. Toronto: Thomas Allen Publishers.

Pinsky, Mark I. 1993, “Covering the Crimes.” Columbia Journalism Review, January-February 1993, p.29

Simpson, Roger A.; Boggs, James G.. “An Exploratory Study of Traumatic Stress Among Newspaper Journalists.” Journalism & Communication Monographs, Spring 1999, Vol. 1 Issue 1.

Ahh...Montreal, home of my heart...

I was going to write a column on my top ten favourite things about Montreal, but I’ve only listed six. When I started thinking about why I love this city, I hit a brick wall. I mean, let’s be honest, winter is coming on, and the city is retreating into hibernation. With the prospect of five months of blistery wind, snow, slush, and mornings so cold your nostrils stick together, it’s hard to find any reason to love Montreal.

So I started asking people why they love Montreal. The answers I received were varied and many, but everyone I spoke to said it doesn’t compare to any other city in Canada.
“It’s all in excess here,” said Cherry Marshall, who has lived in Montreal for only two years. “There’s so much to do here, with all the festivals and other things.” Marshall has lived in five provinces, and traveled through Europe, but she still agrees that

Montreal has it’s own special flavour. Montreal definitely has incredible diversity. There are restaurants to quell your craving for any kind of cuisine, shopping for all tastes, festivals for everyone, not to mention how great the people watching is. So here’s my list of a few of the things that I realize I might take for granted for having lived here for so long.
1. Only having to walk 30 seconds to get to a dep (and being able to buy beer there!).
2. The first nice day of summer, when the sun is reflecting off the puddles as the ice melts and you can finally leave the house without your jacket.
3. The mountain when it is in all of its autumn glory. And any other time really, what a fantastic bit of ‘nature’ in the middle of our bustling city.
4. The Metro. We really do have it easy, imagine this city in winter if we didn’t have such an underground network.
5. The little waterfall near the Metro station in Parc Jean Drapeau. It’s the best place to get wet for free in the height of summer when it’s so hot the cement is melting.
6. The diversity of culture is probably the most clichéd answer, but it is truly amazing that so many different groups live in harmony day after day.

Whatever reason, I think that Montreal is beautiful, diverse, vibrant, alive, and full of sparkle. I’m proud to call myself a Montrealer and it will always be home no matter where life takes me. I will keep thoughts of hot summer nights in my dreams during my hibernation this winter, and when I emerge in the spring I’ll be ready for another sizzling Montreal summer.