e Speech No. 6, November / December 2004 Baghdad Diary Kidnappings, executions, car bombs, ambushes. A reporter describes how staying alive in Iraq became a full-time job. By Farnaz Fassihi In August CJR asked Farnaz Fassihi , The Wall Street Journal ‘s Middle East correspondent, to keep a journal of her life in Iraq, where she had been since before the war, and where reporters were finding it difficult to do their job.
In September, just after she sent us her report, Fassihi sent an e-mail to friends and relatives — something she does regularly. Usually, she says, these e-mails are chatty, but this one reflected her observations on an ominous sea-change: “The genie of terrorism, chaos, and mayhem has been unleashed . . . as a result of American mistakes.” Within days her private note had popped up on the Internet and circulated far and wide, even making an appearance in Doonesbury.
She became Exhibit A in the perennial discussion about the link between the published work and private opinions of reporters. Below is a full slice of Fassihi’s reality in Baghdad, and it raises a question: How could she work there and not have an opinion? THE chartered Royal Jordanian aircraft, the only civilian flight to Iraq, nose-dives down onto the Baghdad airport runway in spiraling corkscrew turns.
The force of gravity pulls me forward from my seat and I nervously clutch the armrests. It feels like a prolonged crash. I gaze out the window at the dusty horizon lined with palm trees as the plane rocks to forty-five-degree angles right and left. Airplanes can’t land here without these evasive maneuvers, because rockets and mortars are fired at them every day. It’s hard to believe that until only four months ago we could still travel to Iraq by car.
David Irving comments: YES, the United States journaille: when a reporter stumbles, like Adolf Hitler ‘s proverbial blind chicken (Table Talk) , across more than a grain of the truth, and actually writes it, he or she is censored, silenced, and drummed out of office. What happened to the qualities for which the Pulitzer was founded? My team of driver and translator, Munaf and Haaqi, wait for me at the nearest U.S. military checkpoint to drive me to Baghdad.
The highway from the airport to the center of town is short, but one of the most dangerous roads in Iraq. Insurgents hide in the date farms and attack military convoys with rocket-propelled grenades. I sit in our recently purchased armored car and feel relatively safe. I remind Munaf to stay in the center of the road to avoid hitting one of the landmines. A few minutes later, we find ourselves driving directly behind a convoy of American Humvees and tanks. I panic.
The Americans could get attacked at any moment and we don’t want to be caught in the crossfire. “Hang back, hang back,” I tell Munaf. He slows down but the cars behind us don’t want to pass, either. “I can’t stop because the Americans will get suspicious and shoot,” Munaf says. In Iraq, no one wants to drive near the Americans. Wednesday, August 18 I spend all day at the Convention Center inside the heavily fortified American compound where most official activities take place.
Getting there was risky today, because the roads leading to the checkpoint are shut down and we had to walk about a mile. All the security guards checking our press passes are wearing helmets. One of them says, “A mortar hit right here this morning,” and points to a bunker several feet away. I walk even faster. I’m trying to catch the last leg of Iraq’s political conference, a four-day marathon of meetings, dealings, and debates to hash out the selection of a hundred-seat national assembly.
It is quite something to see all these people gathered in one place and freely voicing their opinions. There are Shiite clerics clad in sweeping robes and turbans, women candidates in skirt suits and high heels or the black head-to-toe hijab, Kurds in traditional baggy pants and fringy head wraps, and Western-educated technocrats in suits and ties. I spot the former interior minister, Samir Sumaida , and have tea with him.
He is critical of the conference’s shortcomings but is quick to list its benefits as well. “There’s been a lot of manipulation and open cheating here, but despite all this we have a body far more representative than ever before,” he says. “This is what democracy is all about, these are the first steps and we are learning.” A loud boom interrupts our chat. The building shakes and we all run for cover. An American soldier is screaming, “Mortars! Get away from the windows!”
Sunday, August 22 Our house, which we share with Newsweek , has been transformed into a fortress. To get to it, you have to pass several roadblocks and checkpoints and negotiate a labyrinth of forty-foot concrete blast walls that surround the compound. Security has been beefed up; we have more guards at the gate and one on the roof. Sometimes it feels like living in a luxurious prison. I already miss walking.
On my last trip home, I spent seven hours walking around Manhattan on my first day back just because I could. Security and administrative work takes up most of my time these past few days. I read through the security reports e-mailed to us every day and discuss with the Iraqi staff new measures to make sure everyone is safe. We have to register our armored car and the paperwork lacks appropriate border stamps.
I can’t get hold of the Jordanian driver who brought the car in, and don’t want to send it