When British filmmaker and journalist Tim Hetherington was killed by a Libyan army mortar shell outside the city of Misrata on April 20, it brought home to me the indiscriminate nature of war. In all likelihood, the Libyan soldiers dropping the round down the mortar tube were unaware of the journalist's presence in the mix of rebel forces they were targeting.
And he didn't die alone that day. Embedded with Tim was colleague and Getty Image photojournalist Chris Hondros. Chris had taken shrapnel to the head, and died later that day. Their two riddled bodies were unceremoniously loaded aboard a van, driven to a ferry boat, and shipped out of Misrata.
Upon hearing the news, I wondered what would posses someone to willingly place themselves in a situation that runs a high risk of bodily harm or death. Tim's most renowned work was the war documentary Restrepo (nominated for an Oscar) which also saw him embedded with troops in an active combat zone -- this time with a US Army platoon located in an outpost in the Afghanistan mountains.
I suppose the majority of sane individuals would dismiss him as having a death wish, as most would banish the thought of leaving the comfort and safety of home only to witness the horrors of battle. But there is something about the war correspondent that has always intrigued me.
Perhaps it is the carelessness in which they toss themselves into such a macabre venture, or the desire to participate in something few others get to. But more than this, there seems to be an innate need to bear witness to such historic events, to absorb the rawest human emotion, and to connect personally with the sufferings of other people.
I'm not sure what Tim's motives were in Libya. Perhaps it was an ego thing -- an ambition to create a lasting portfolio of notable work -- that propelled him into his work. Maybe it was the adrenaline addiction brought on by combat (so widely claimed by war correspondents) that kept sending him back into harm's way. Whatever the reasoning, his presence on the battlefield -- both in life and in death -- enabled the world to bear witness to the savagery of the Libyan civil war.
The cynic in me wonders if he thought he could get away with it all. Movies and television has left us with a perception that the good guy always lives to fight another day. We identify with the protagonist: though he takes a beating and watches his buddies drop on the beach beside him, he somehow manages to make it through the adventure fairly intact -- if not enriched by the experience. I truly believe we carry this sense of entitlement with us in our daily lives, both individually and collectively.
Nobody thinks they're going to be the poor old schlep that spends two years training for war only to step off the landing craft and onto a land mine. Just look at a community that has been rocked by natural disaster or a mass shooting. “This is supposed to happen to other people" they say. "I never thought this would happen to me.”
I don't think journalists are the exception to the rule. In all likelihood these people are even more aware of the risks they are taking. However, they are probably falsely reassured by their record of having beaten the odds. Does this mean they should stop doing what that they're doing?
Without such individuals, there would be only the embellished and misconstrued tales from the soldiers themselves. As a society, we have come to expect such invasive coverage of current events. We want to be privy to all the details. It informs our opinions, which in turn leads to the development of our public policy.
I believe that Tim thought he would make it out of Libya alive. Despite the ferocity of the battle that day, I doubt any of the embedded reporters in Tim's little group could imagine they would be on the receiving end of a mortar barrage. I'm sure that in their minds eye they would surely see another Libyan sun set, perhaps enjoy a refreshing shower in a nearby Holiday Inn, then head off to the next adrenaline packed assignment.
And like the local victims of the conflict, I'm sure that none of the journalists who survived the mortar attack of April 20 could leave what they had witnessed behind.
Click here to see photos of Tim's last day.
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