The Taliban shuffle

Back in the 1990s, as twenty-something graduates volunteering with a British non-governmental organisation, a group of us found ourselves sent to different parts of China to teach English at local universities. These were heady days. And the arrogance of youth was definitely on our side.

We considered it a badge of honour to be sent to a far-flung village or town. Those who ended up in a provincial capital had to fend off accusations of not living in the ‘real China’. The joyride was a competition to see who could go the most native and who was deprived of buying cheese. Heady days, as I say.

The story is, naturally, very different when a career is founded on covering the war on terror by way of constant country hopping. Just ask Kim Barker, the Chicago Tribune’s South Asia bureau chief from 2004-2009. She recounts her one-woman New Delhi-Kabul-Islamabad magic roundabout ride in her recently published book, The Taliban Shuffle.

Much has been made of the way in which Barker has chosen to regale tales, albeit with self-deprecating candour, of how the life of a foreign correspondent provides absolutely fabulous opportunities to meet a bevy of westerners amidst the giddy backdrop of Third World cosmopolitanism.

Barker’s critics have lambasted her for not offering any real insights into the region; instead simply employing the war as a bit-part prop to her personal escapades. These include shacking up with a war junkie, seeing where Nawaz Sharif’s attentive interest in her will lead and cruising Chinese brothels looking for a karaoke gig and a bottle of beer.

The Taliban Shuffle is undoubtedly more Bridget Jones pretending to be Rambo than war memoir. But it never pretends to be otherwise. It is simply the story of one woman in a war zone. And of how, despite all the death and destruction, the show must go on.

This is not to say, however, that the book offers no lessons. It does. The most important being the way in which lone foreign correspondents are expected to act as bureau chiefs, covering multiple countries single-handedly.

Barker talks of how the adrenaline high of being in the thick of things ultimately leads to an inevitable crash-and-burn, and how this cycle of addiction leaves little time for a personal life. Nevertheless, she misses the Asian tsunami when she decides to stay at home with her boyfriend. While terrorists blow up Islamabad’s Marriot hotel, she is on a flight to London to meet her war junkie chap. As the Mumbai carnage plays out in front of the global media, she is vacationing on the other side of the world.

Barker highlights the cash flow problems endured by her particular newspaper. Yet, one cannot help but wonder at the loss of revenue, when its South Asia correspondent repeatedly misses such breaking news from the region.

This begs the question as to why many (though, of course, not all) foreign media outlets choose not to invest long-term in a region or country that is never out of the headlines. Admittedly, the setting up of actual functioning bureaus complete with small newsrooms employing local teams may not come cheap. Yet the juice would very possibly be worth the squeeze.

Local journalist input is essential to guaranteeing more in-depth coverage of a particular country. Such a formal collaboration would also help defuse the frustration felt by many local reporters when the ‘big boys’ fly into town and tap them for their contacts and insight to consolidate their own bylines. In addition, both sides would benefit from the fusion of domestic and global perspective coverage. It could be viewed as overseas journalism scholarships in reverse and
funds could, in some cases, be redirected accordingly.

Unless reporters are afforded the breathing space to see a country beyond the war on terror prism, it will simply continue to be one more bomb for the road. And with that, everyone becomes collateral damage.



Published in The Express Tribune, July 24^th, 2011.