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Lindey Hilsum defends her decision to wear a headscarf
Published 27 March 2006
Wearing a headscarf is a wonderful thing, because it alerts the audience to the compromises a reporter has to make, writes Lindey Hilsum
The Daily Mail and the Spectator are appalled that I have compromised my feminist principles. I feel a full confession is in order. I cannot tell a lie, not least because those who watch Channel 4 News saw my infraction. I wore a headscarf, live on air, while reporting from Iran. Those of a nervous disposition may need to take a deep breath. Richard Littlejohn and Charles Moore, not renowned as upholders of female emancipation, have more regard for women's rights than I!
Littlejohn complains in the Mail that I "feel the need to raid the dressing-up box", swathing myself in one of my "exotic range of Middle Eastern headscarves". Moore asks in his Spectator column: "Is this insisted upon by the Iranian government?"
Let me tell you about the dirty business of covering the news, as opposed to commenting from afar. First, the facts. Yes, the Islamic Republic of Iran has a law saying women must cover their heads, so if female correspondents refuse to do so, only men will report from Iran. Oh dear, it's already getting complex - you compromise one principle to defend another. It's true that I have an array of scarves, which I also wear on my head when reporting from mosques, which I frequently do in my job. If I were sanctimonious, I'd say something about respecting other people's religion, but I'm more practical than that: I do it because if I didn't wear the scarf I'd be chucked out.
Maybe journalists should be more honest about the constraints under which they work and the deals they do, so readers, viewers and listeners could better evaluate the news. Headscarves are just the beginning. Left-wing "indie-media" types say those who report while "embedded" with British or US troops in Iraq are propagandists - dressed, incidentally, in flak jackets and helmets, another sartorial signal. By agreeing to the rules of the military, they say, we abrogate our journalistic independence. Well, I covered the November 2004 assault on Fallujah as an "embed" on the front line, and it was one of the most important stories I have ever reported. Obeying US military rules, I did not say exactly where we were, nor did I give the names or show the faces of American soldiers who were killed until after their families were informed. But I saw a lot and I reported everything I saw. It was the only way to get the story - this was not a conflict where you could wander around independently and stay alive.
It wasn't the whole story, because I saw it from only one side. I got as much as I could, and when it was safe enough, a brave Iraqi journalist went into Fallujah on behalf of Channel 4 News to report from the side of the civilians and fighters. I wish I could have gone with him, but I would probably have been kidnapped and killed, and I would have endangered him, too. More compromises to get the truth.
It's not only foreign correspondents who walk the wobbly line. Journalists covering Westminster make compromises all the time, as they lunch politicians in the hope of snippets of gossip and policy leaks. Lobby correspondents still report Downing Street briefings without naming press officers, and Foreign Office officials frequently talk "on background", their comments to be attributed to "sources" or not to be quoted at all.
Reporting from Iraq under Saddam Hussein was especially difficult. During the war, I once stumbled across a scud missile launcher in a residential area. I feared that if I broadcast the fact directly I would be deported, so I gave the information to my desk in London. Jon Snow then reported that scud launchers had been seen in a residential area of Baghdad but did not cite me as the source. The truth had been told and I was able to remain in Iraq. Was it ideal? No. Was it better than tell all or tell nothing? Yes, I think so. Yet various right-wing blogs, by people who have never reported from anywhere, still carry a story saying I censored myself in Iraq.
Some deals trouble the conscience. I once interviewed Radovan Karadzic, the former Bosnian Serb leader, after he was indicted for war crimes. The deal was I would not reveal where the interview had taken place. I stuck to my side of the bargain. Would it have been to the greater good to tell Nato troops where I had seen him? Or was I right to decide that an interview with Karadzic on the run was valuable in itself?
Sometimes these cogitations still amaze
The troubled midnight and the noon's repose.
The words of T S Eliot echo in my mind when I think about the compromises I have made while reporting the vilest conflicts in the world's cruellest places. The handshakes with genocidal Rwandan generals, the jocular banter with machete-wielding killers on roadblocks. The understanding nod to the torturer as he opens up just enough for me to glimpse the horrors he thinks he can hide.
Wearing a headscarf is a wonderful thing because it alerts the audience to the compromises a reporter has to make; it's a symbol of the constraints under which we operate and the complex reality in which we work. Unless we are columnists living in London or the Home Counties, in which case our world-view is not tempered by reality at all.
Lindsey Hilsum is international editor for Channel 4 News
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