Drones descend from the sky, striking mercilessly. Within moments, a home becomes rubble, and from those ashes, no civilian rises to tell the tale. Families hold the still faces of their loved ones, blood smeared on bodies drained of its circulation. Gunshots continue to pepper the air, a rhythm as constant as the caving of stomachs starved over days, weeks, months. Amidst chorus of collective punishment, another sound arises. A click. It’s not perched above, or nestled around a corner. It’s in the crowd, camouflaging with the devastation it bears witness to. A camera. And holding it in steadied hands, is a journalist, crouching low as they adjust the lens, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
International human rights lawyer Amal Clooney stands on the grounds that journalists are truth tellers . In many ways, journalism requires its reporters to abide by that oath. No matter the extent of human plight, the journalist on the clock does not have the option to intervene. On the battlefield, death is a more trustworthy companion for a war journalist than any soldier or civilian. As a child, and even now as Editor-in-Chief of Nommo’s newsroom, I struggled with the notion that being on the frontlines of a story required letting that narrative unfold before your very eyes. On television, I observed how journalists traveled all over the country and the world to families steeped in poverty and survivors of generational violence, without a solution to offer, only an ear and a notepad ready to be scribbled upon. From my eyes, professional passivity quickly soured into deliberate complicity – we were not digging at change, we were only documenting it.
Something cracked my resolve flying over into Los Angeles. Having put it off for quite a while, I finally watched A24’s movie Civil War, following a group of journalists on their way to D.C. to get an interview with the president amidst the outbreak of an American civil war. While the background context leaves much to be discussed, what gripped me were the reflections on journalism and its role during conflict. In a scene where the journalists stumble upon the beaten bodies of two men with their assailant grinning maddeningly, our protagonist Lee Smith asks the attacker if she can take a photo of him standing next to his victims. The man obliges and shortly after, the journalists resume their journey to the capital. It’s inhumane, and it’s powerful. Lee captures the truth, violence laid bare, a case awaiting conviction. It’s provocative, perhaps even goes as far as to desensitize. Yet it’s inviting something, a reaction, a discussion a full scale mobilization. We as viewers are not privy to the intentions, but do we have to be in order to take action?
At this crossroads where violence has been sensationalized, snaking its way onto the screens of newsletters and the short form content consumed across social media platforms, it is necessary to call out the seeming spectacle we as consumers are making of livelihoods which are not our own. But perhaps that is precisely the point. Have we not had enough of seeing high definition footage of mangled bodies on our feeds? Are we not already fearful of being the next activist slammed to the curb by an insurrection of armed forces? Do we not look upon the marble columns of the Capitol and see the reflection of fascism staring back at us?
Journalists must tell the truth, and that truth always comes at a cost. That price continues to be paid when readers, viewers, and consumers, leave the truth behind – tuning out until the next moment, awaiting eagerly for news without any interest in making their own.