James Foley photographed in Aleppo in 2012. Photo by Mano Brabo
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ISIS video appears to show killing of US Journalist James Foley

Late last night, the militant jihadist group Islamic State (also known as ISIS) released a video purporting to show the beheading of James Foley, a US journalist who went missing in Syria in 2012. Foley was a fearless, generous and committed reporter, who had also been detained while reporting in Libya. 

Late last night, the militant jihadist group Islamic State (also known as ISIS) released a video purporting to show the beheading of James Foley, a US journalist who went missing in Syria in 2012. In the video he was wearing an orange jumpsuit, and was forced to read a statement blaming the US for his death, before he was executed. The group threatened the death of a further journalist, Steven Joel Sotloff, who they claim is in their hands.

YouTube took the video down late last night, and it is still being verified. I should mention that I could not bring myself to watch it, although I knew I would write about it, because I knew whatever I saw I would never, ever be able to unsee. Which is relevant, because while media outlets often protect their readers from the most gruesome, unforgettable images of war, if you’re a war reporter you confront them every day, in the hope of translating this horror to your readers and giving those caught up in conflict a voice. I could never do the same job as Foley or Sotloff, and my gratitude and respect for them is unending.

According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, at least 69 reporters have been killed in Syria and 80 kidnapped. Twenty are still in captivity, many of whom are believed to be held by IS. Foley entered Syria knowing the risks: he had been kidnapped once in Libya in 2011. “Captivity is the state most violently opposed to his nature,” his friend, fellow captive and reporter Clare Morgana Gillis wrote. She described his generosity, he had been fundraising for a friend, Anton Hammerl, killed in Libya before his own capture, “If he had a sandwich, he’d offer me half; if down to one cigarette, he’d pass it back and forth. He saved my life twice before I’d known him a full month,” she wrote. In an interview on his release, Foley had spoken of his trauma at Hammerl's death and sense of responsibility for Hammerl's children, but he also reconfirmed his passion for journalism. "I'm trying to expose untold stories," he told the BBC, "but I'm also drawn to the human rights side."

Another piece of sad news is that this may not be the only time IS uses this brutal propaganda technique. They know executions will rightly provoke outrage (though ISIS is unlikely to find it effective as a bargaining tool), and the principles that motivate journalists like Foley are the complete antithesis to ISIS's ideology: their narrow, unforgiving, inhumane interpretation of Islam, the ease with which they sacrifice human life to their political ends, their black-and-white view that divides the world into believers and infidels, righteous and evil. Honest, brave, humanitarian reporting is the enemy of dictators, hypocrites and religious zealots, which is why even if you had never met or heard of James Foley you should view this as a tragedy. 

On Twitter last night, people began trying, in their own small way, to re-write ISIS’s narrative. Rather than share pictures of Foley in his jumpsuit, remember him as he would want to be remembered, doing a job he approached with passion, dedication and fearlessness. You can view some photos of him working here. His mother, Diane, released this statement: “We have never been prouder of our son Jim. He gave his life trying to expose the world to the suffering of the Syrian people.” The website dedicated to his release, Findjamesfoley.org appeared to crash several times this morning due to the weight of traffic.

The internet has changed the way in which people publicly share and express their grief. At a time when too many journalists are dying in conflict (30 have died already this year), a modern expression of solidarity might be to declare that “we are all James Foley”, but we are not. The fearlessness and commitment Foley demonstrated are rare qualities, but these qualities remain a source of hope for those caught in conflicts around the world.

Sophie McBain is a freelance writer based in Cairo. She was previously an assistant editor at the New Statesman.

Gage Skidmore via Creative Commons
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Donald Trump brings home his dark vision of America at the Republican convention

The Presidential nominee pledged: "Safety must be restored."

Donald Trump brought home the Republican convention Thursday night with a dark vision of contemporary America – a darkness he claimed only his leadership could lift. It was a lengthy, tightly-scripted speech framed around polarities – insiders and outsiders, criminals and victims, the United States and the rest of the world – and infused with righteous anger. And yet against the darkness, he offered not lightness but “greatness” – a bombastic, personalistic vision of how through sheer force of will he could right the American ship before it plunged irretrievably into the depths. “I alone can solve,” he famously tweeted earlier in the campaign. This was the 80-minute version.

Any presidential challenger, of course, has to lay out a set of problems they believe need fixing and a case for why their leadership might make a difference. It was the breathtaking scale and intensity of Trump’s diagnosis, and the lack of optimistic alternative to counterbalance it, that was notable compared to other acceptance speeches. He portrayed the United States as a country riddled with crime and corruption, a “rigged system” in which politicians like Hillary Clinton can evade justice, while police officers trying to protect its citizens become targets; a fearful country, its economy sluggish, its infrastructure crumbling, its security an illusion, and its international stature in freefall

For a candidate who has mocked the soaring rhetoric of President Obama (the “hopey-changey stuff,” as Sarah Palin once called it), it was perhaps not surprising that Trump’s speech would be short on uplift. It was at least more disciplined than his other campaign speeches, if in keeping with their tone and content – the much-maligned teleprompter rolling a script to which he largely stuck. (“He sounds presidential,” a lady behind me remarked, though his press conference Friday morning marked a reversion to free-wheeling form).

It was short on substance too, though acceptance speeches aren’t designed to be policy laundry lists like a State of the Union. Still, there were few specifics, beyond a pledge to revise tax laws which inhibit religious groups from political advocacy, and a newfound concern with student loans. It was daughter Ivanka’s speech that had the greater substantive heft, promising her father would push for new labour laws to help working mothers, and for affordable childcare in the US. Neither are traditional Republican positions, but the crowd seemed on board for anything Trump might offer.

He even had them cheering for LGBTQ rights, after recalling the tragedy in Florida last month, and the need to protect gay Americans from a “hateful foreign ideology” in radical Islam. “It is so nice as a Republican to hear you cheering for what I just said,” he commended the delegates in an unscripted moment. But whether they had really embraced this unexpected message – or if it was the anti-terror chaser that really got them on their feet – remains to be seen. In either case, it was a rare grace note in an otherwise bruising speech.

Presenting himself repeatedly as the candidate of “law and order,” Trump evoked Richard Nixon’s 1968 presidential campaign. At a time when American cities were erupting in race riots and protests over the Vietnam War, Nixon had pitched himself as the face of stability and security. Likewise Trump has reacted to the simmering racial tensions and terrorist attacks this summer with a hard-line stance on “lawlessness.” “Safety must be restored,” Trump said, in one of the eerier lines he delivered. Yet in his convention speech, Nixon had balanced his tough talk with a positive message – speaking of love, courage, and lighting a “lamp of hope” in partnership with the American people. 

Trump channeled another president in his speech, too, when he promised to give voice to “the forgotten men and women of our country” – drawing on the language of Franklin Roosevelt. Roosevelt had promised to aid “the forgotten man at the bottom of the economic pyramid” during the 1932 campaign. But Roosevelt’s solution to the forgotten man’s distress was economic internationalism – tearing down tariff walls and trading freely with the world – which the Republican Party then opposed. Trump’s solution is the protectionist policies Roosevelt had railed against.

Trump’s economic and security philosophy is encapsulated in another, more notorious phrase associated with that era: “America First.” A rallying cry for isolationists seeking to avoid US entanglement in World War II, it acquired an anti-Semitic taint. But Trump has employed it nonetheless, capturing as it does his core argument that America must do more to protect its own citizens against threats from within and without – from illegal immigrants, from radicalized Islamic terrorists, from the downsides of free international trade. Little wonder that former George W.

Bush staffer Nicolle Wallace announced that the Republican party she knew “died in this room tonight.” In embracing elements of isolationism, protectionism, and nativism, however, it is perhaps truer to say that Trump’s Republican party reverted to an earlier form.

Often disconcerting, at times mesmerizing, the question remains how effective this speech will be. The delegates responded enthusiastically to Trump’s fierce rhetoric, but many prominent Republicans had stayed away from the convention altogether. Combined with Senator Ted Cruz’s non-endorsement, Trump goes into the general election campaign without a fully united party behind him. For both partisans and the public, Trump’s speech offered a cast of villains to rally against, but no positive, unifying vision to rally behind – beyond the much-touted yet elusive “greatness,” of course. In a typical election year, that would seem a critical flaw in a campaign – but Trump loves to confound the naysayers. As his convention speech showed, he thinks the formula that got him this far - showcasing his fame and fanning Americans’ fears – can land him in the White House.