Abstract
This study, based on in-depth interviews with 22 reporters, stringers, and photojournalists working in Small Conflict Reporting Ecosystems (SE) looks into the ambivalent and ambiguous work of conflict reporters who find themselves in the middle of the conflict reporting hierarchy. It seeks to diversify the understanding of global conflict reporters’ positionalities, broaden the understanding of their precarity and the overall “crisis” of global conflict reporting, and draw inspiration from the diversity of actors and practices creating the current global conflict reporting ecosystems. I address the following questions: What makes the work of SE conflict reporters “bad”? What makes it “good”? How do SE reporters navigate the ambivalence of their work and the ambiguity of their positions? The findings illustrate how SE journalists often turn their precarious conditions and ambiguity into a creative edge and solidarity networks and show how ambiguity (rather than crisis) becomes a key concept helping to understand current conflict reporting.
Introduction
As I explained to my Middle Eastern friends: … Look, you are Jordanian. Go and bring a story from Bulgaria or the Czech Republic. Will you be able to live by that? Who needs that? … And so, we laughed. We are not major markets, and for not major markets, it’s like this. (Anna, conflict reporter from Central and Eastern Europe)
The discourse about “crisis” in journalism (see Zelizer, 2015) has engulfed crisis/conflict reporting itself. There is a sense of an end to global conflict reporting; the Golden Age of the field is believed to have passed (Otto and Meyer, 2012; Williams, 2011; cf. Archetti, 2014).
Rather than pointing to an actual end of global conflict reporting, this discourse says much about the limits of scholarship on the issue. In particular, war and conflict reporting scholarship is marked by an Anglophone bias stemming from the Anglophone basis of most investigations into global conflict reporting, including local-foreign collaborations (Blacksin and Mitra, 2024; Plaut and Klein, 2019; Van Der Hoeven and Kester, 2022). Although there are notable examples of research on non(-native)-Anglophone conflict reporters, their practices and outcomes – Chinese (Zhang, 2016), Dutch (Van Der Hoeven and Kester, 2022), Czech (Kotišová, 2017), and Swedish (Springer et al., 2022) – there are still entire regions of the world that have never or seldom received academic attention and whole populations of foreign journalists who work in languages other than English (Blacksin and Mitra, 2024; Mabweazara, 2018). Moreover, even research on non-Anglophone conflict reporting often focuses on Western Europe (Otto and Meyer, 2012), resulting in a lack of granular understanding of intra-European differences and postcolonial dynamics (Kotišová and Deuze, 2022; Shome and Hegde, 2002).
In turn, such bias has narrowed and shaped the understanding of global conflict reporting: it has defined who counts as a trustworthy journalist (Heinrich and Cheruiyot, 2024) and what types of crises and precarity media and journalists face while covering global conflicts (Hamilton and Jenner, 2004; Istek, 2017; Wake, 2016). Finally, it created a lacuna in our knowledge of the field: except for research on freelance war reporters and photographers (Istek, 2017; Wake, 2016), academic understanding of the field is limited to relatively very privileged journalists, travelling to cover remote warzones, or, on the contrary, fixers and local producers who find themselves at the structurally lowest positions in the conflict reporting hierarchy (Creech, 2018; Palmer, 2018; Yazbeck, 2021). To overcome these limits, Van Der Hoeven and Kester (2022, p. 2) note, “it is important to supplement the existing research [marked by a bias towards Anglo-Saxon journalists] with the experiences of other Western journalists and non-Western journalists.”
This study, based on in-depth interviews with 22 reporters, stringers, and photojournalists working in Small Conflict Reporting Ecosystems 1 (abbreviated as Small Ecosystems or “SE”), looks at conflict reporting as a networked informational ecology (Heinrich and Cheruiyot, 2024) rather than as a binary structure of Western reporters and their non-Western local collaborators. By looking into the ambivalent and ambiguous work of conflict reporters who find themselves in the middle of the conflict reporting hierarchy (see Creech, 2018), it seeks to diversify the understanding of global conflict reporters’ positionalities, broaden the understanding of their precarity and the overall “crisis” of global conflict reporting, and draw inspiration from the diversity of actors and practices creating the current global conflict reporting ecosystems (Blacksin and Mitra, 2024; Kotišová and Deuze, 2022). I address the following questions: What makes the work of SE conflict reporters “bad”? What makes it “good”? How do SE reporters navigate the ambivalence of their work and the ambiguity of their positions? The findings illustrate how SE journalists often turn their precarious conditions and ambiguity into a creative edge and solidarity networks and show how ambiguity (rather than crisis) becomes a key concept helping us to understand current conflict reporting.
Embracing the messiness of global conflict reporting
The profound changes foreign reporting, including global conflict reporting, has undergone over the last decades have led to a sense of ending. Foreign news and correspondents are described as “disappearing,” “declining,” and “becoming extinct” (Williams, 2011). For example, Otto and Meyer (2012, p. 205) observed already in 2012 that foreign reporting by Western media organizations had been “in gradual retreat for more than a decade” and lamented that “[w]e are increasingly left with less trained eyes and ears on the ground” (2012, p. 206). The Golden Era of correspondent-based foreign affairs journalism, often situated in the 1940s (Williams, 2011) or the 1990s and 2000s (Otto and Meyer, 2012), is said to have irreversibly passed due to three interconnected processes: economic transformation, globalization/cosmopolitanism, and digitalization (Bebawi and Evans, 2019; Erickson and Hamilton, 2006; Hamilton and Jenner, 2004; Hannerz, 2005; Heinrich and Cheruiyot, 2024; Hellmueller et al., 2017; Murrell, 2019; Ristovska, 2022; Williams, 2011).
However, this crisis discourse in global conflict reporting and journalism is also widely criticized. Zelizer characterizes (current) journalism in terms of challenges, uncertainty, chaos, noise, and continuous change and suggests that the crisis discourse distracts us from these “incongruities, inconsistencies, and local situated particularities that constitute the landscape … Spatially, there is much evidence that makes crisis less relevant than assumed” (Zelizer, 2015, pp. 894, 901). Likewise, Archetti (2014) argues that the apocalyptic views are caused rather by the generalized yet un-situated criteria we have used to assess foreign journalism.
Indeed, the decrease in the number of foreign correspondents is a Western phenomenon (Sambrook, 2010; Williams, 2011). Although there are exceptions (Mabweazara, 2018; Zhang, 2016), Blacksin and Mitra (2024) point out that we still have little evidentiary basis for understanding the relationships and patterns in (conflict) journalism beyond – between and apart from – the Anglophone contexts. Even studies directly addressing the recent changes in the field often epitomize the lack of granular understanding when they distinguish between American and non-American, American and foreign, or foreign and local (Hamilton and Jenner, 2004) or see mainly the West and (or versus) the developing world (Sambrook, 2010; Van Der Hoeven and Kester, 2022; Williams, 2011). As we argue elsewhere (Kotišová and Deuze, 2022), even research on local media professionals covering conflicts – fixers and local producers – often reifies the binaries of West and non-West, “local” and “foreign,” “fixer” and “reporter”. These divisions are too schematic and do not correspond to the messiness of current global conflict reporting (Blacksin and Mitra, 2024; Plaut and Klein, 2019; Shome and Hegde, 2002). The European conflict reporting ecosystems alone – consisting of a diversity of journalists working for a multitude of SEs – show that many spaces and identities are too ambiguous to fit into the binaries (see below).
If we look beyond the Anglo-American context and if we set aside the universalist, binary view and embrace the messiness, diversity, and networked character of conflict-reporting ecosystems (Archetti, 2014; Heinrich and Cheruiyot, 2024; Hellmueller and Berglez, 2022; Mabweazara, 2018), their future may not seem so nonexistent. This paper offers a step in this direction by responding to the call of Hellmueller et al. (2017, p. 61) that “More efforts should be made to include languages other than English or to reach out to regions where English is not the primary language and translate important stories that are happening there,” and to focus on conflict reporters who work in SE and whose native or working language is not English. Even this limited granularization of knowledge of the field points to the ambiguity of reporters’ positions (see the next section) and shows how diverse identities may give rise to or strengthen various dimensions of proximity to the local context, collaborators, and sources (Ahva and Pantti, 2014), how diverse reporters navigate their precarity and defy the apocalyptic discourse on global conflict reporting.
Ambivalence and Ambiguity in small conflict reporting ecosystems
This study investigates the gap in global conflict reporting scholarship by examining the ambivalence of work and ambiguity of positions in SE.
The focus on ambivalence (Kotišová, 2019b; Taylor and Karen, 2016) points to a discussion in the scholarly literature on creative labour on the love-hate relationship of creative professionals to their work and the exchange of self-precarization and self-exploitation for self-realization (e.g., Banks, 2007; McRobbie, 1998; Perreault and Bélair-Gagnon, 2022). When this approach is applied to conflict reporters, their work can be seen as truly “bad” (for a thorough conceptualization of “bad” and “good” work, see Hesmondhalgh and Baker, 2011): it is dangerous, stressful, and poorly paid (Istek, 2017; Stupart, 2021; Wake, 2016). One of the most discussed issues is risk, which – while being a part of general labour precarity in media industries – is unequally distributed among staff reporters, freelancers, local journalists, fixers, and stringers (Creech, 2018). Like in other journalistic beats, the work is also erratic and unstable and can result in overwork. On top of that, its products can be ethically controversial and do not always contribute to the well-being of others, which can lead to moral dilemmas/injuries and feelings of guilt (Flannery, 2022).
However, there are reasons these media professionals engage in this work: it is also a “good” job (Hesmondhalgh and Baker, 2011). The reporters are motivated by the desire for adventure, personal ambition to self-realize, moral feelings, and the urge to serve the public interest (Creech, 2018; Pedelty, 2022; Van Der Hoeven and Kester, 2022). Indeed, Creech (2018) notes that seeing journalists’ working relationships as directly exploitative fails to capture the complexity of risk and labour intertwined with the notion of serving a public interest. Likewise, Van Der Hoeven and Kester (2022) quote a war journalist for whom creativity is a remedy for insecurity and that gives meaning to their life. As I also illustrate in the analysis below, many of the characteristics of the work experienced as negative are also attractive and lead to rewarding solutions, thus turning the job into an inherently ambivalent endeavour.
Relatedly, as this article aims to illustrate, the reporters participating in this study embody the ambiguity inherent to current conflict reporting. In journalism, media, and communication studies, ambiguity has been studied as a structural feature of communicated content (Broersma, 2010), as a strategic way of communication in organizations (Eisenberg, 1984), and as a mental state of audiences (Wenzel, 2019). It has been defined as indirectness, vagueness, and unclarity of communication (Eisenberg, 1984), as uncertainty among audiences (Wenzel, 2019), or as journalists’ transparent acknowledgment that it is impossible to know certain things (Broersma, 2010). However, related to the ambivalence of conflict reporting work (which is experienced as having self-contradictory value and meaning, as both “good” and “bad”), ambiguity is another defining feature of reporters’ position in contemporary international journalism (Bromley, 2012). It points to reporters’ volatile, unclear, and uncertain position along the continuums of “foreign” and “local,” “here” and “there,” “home” and “abroad,” “proximity” and “distance,” “reporter” and “fixer” – and, in our case, West and non-West. This paper explores how taking this ambiguity – together with ambivalence – into consideration can help us conceptualize contemporary global conflict reporting, namely, journalists’ positions, while enhancing our understanding of how newswork can be precarious and privileged at the same time.
The analysis presented below identifies the ambivalent work and ambiguous positions among conflict journalists operating in SE. While no official numbers prove the relatively low conflict reporting budgets in SE, previous research suggests that SE ecosystems and journalists might be structurally more vulnerable than (journalists working in) Anglophone ecosystems (Van Der Hoeven and Kester, 2022). The largest group of media professionals interviewed for this study is those working in Central and Eastern European (CEE) conflict-reporting ecosystems. Research on the media in this region often focuses on media concentration, oligarchization, journalistic autonomy, the role of media in illiberal drifts, and mistrust of legacy media (Kotisova and Císařová, 2023; Stetka and Örnebring, 2013; Surowiec and Štětka, 2020). For example, in the Czech Republic, the region’s long-term isolation in the past and the recent exploitation of the media industries for domestic political and economic goals by local oligarchs have reportedly resulted in relatively little money allocated to foreign news desks (Kotišová, 2019a; Kotisova and Císařová, 2023). Global conflict reporting in this part of Europe depends largely on public service media with limited budgets, organizations using creative and non-traditional funding models, such as news start-ups like Outriders (n.d.) in Poland or Voxpot (n.d.) in the Czech Republic, or individuals self-funding their travels (see the analysis below).
While other non-Anglophone European global conflict reporting media markets may have longer traditions and bigger budgets, they are also linguistically and/or culturally limited: “the mainstream media companies are much smaller compared to Anglo-Saxon media companies and have less money to spend, and thus also less protection to offer” (Van Der Hoeven and Kester, 2022, p. 265; see also Creech, 2018). In the case of Dutch journalists, this results in little money for proper safety training, risk assessment, and other preparations for hiring local fixers, bodyguards, translators and, in effect, can seriously increase the work-related risks for war journalists – who, moreover, are mostly freelancers or work for small media companies (Van Der Hoeven and Kester, 2022). As Norbäck (2021) shows in her study of Swedish freelance journalists, journalists’ strategies for resisting industry pressures can include exiting the profession or giving up quality journalism due to the lack of organizational identity/support. Likewise, the Dutch war reporters studied by Van Der Hoeven and Kester (2022) were demotivated by the difficulty of making ends meet, the demands of getting older, and the desire to settle down. Gender aspects make things even worse, as Francesca Borri, an Italian/international freelance reporter, shows in her famous piece depicting how the industry forces her to take inappropriate risks: “whether you’re writing from Aleppo or Gaza or Rome, the editors see no difference. You are paid the same: $70 per piece. … you end up maximizing, rather than minimizing, the risks. … if you happen to be seriously wounded, there is a temptation to hope not to survive, because you cannot afford to be wounded” (Borri, 2013).
The third group of SE conflict reporters included in this study are photographers. News photography (or “war photography”) is among the most affected conflict reporting ecosystems by the technological and economic challenges of the media industry. Photographers – the vast majority of whom are also freelancers – go from assignment to assignment and pay for insurance, equipment, and other forms of protection on their own. Many of them carry debts caused by delayed payments from their clients (media organizations) and often have to rely on an increasingly wide range of work (e.g., teaching or video editing) (Istek, 2017; The State of Photography 2022 Report, 2022). Even award-winning photographers struggle to make ends meet (Liscia and Ellis-Gibbs, 2022). As some of the financial issues are related to ethical standards, ethics can suffer, too; for example, news photographers have to get involved in business assignments, thus compromising their independence (Hudson, 2023).
In line with the porous boundaries of SE and the ambiguity of reporters’ positions, media professionals operating in these three examples of SE share many challenges with freelancers or junior reporters operating in Anglophone media ecosystems and also with local conflict reporters, fixers, and local producers (Palmer, 2018; Yazbeck, 2021); the SE themselves form a part of a larger, global conflict reporting ecosystem. Yet, for the structural reasons explained above, the SE works as a “laboratory” of European cross-continental continuities, ambiguity, and ambivalence and as a useful analytical category.
Focusing on conflict reporters navigating the ambivalent work and ambiguous positions in these three types of SE, this paper addresses the following questions:
What makes the work of SE conflict reporters “bad”?
What makes it “good”?
How do SE reporters navigate the ambivalence of their work and the ambiguity of their positions?
Method
To better account for the complexity of connections in global conflict reporting, media and journalism scholars have been shifting their attention to diverse non-journalistic actors (e.g., Chernobrov, 2022; Heinrich and Cheruiyot, 2024; Merrin and Hoskins, 2020; Ristovska, 2022; Smets and Akkaya, 2016; Yousuf and Taylor, 2017). This paper takes a different approach, shows diversity within the journalistic profession, and illustrates how even a limited expansion of scholarship beyond the Anglophone bias and introducing a spatial variation (Zelizer, 2015) – zooming in on European media professionals – presents the theoretical opportunity to conceptualize contemporary conflict reporters’ work and position as deeply and inherently ambivalent and ambiguous.
The study is based on semi-structured or in-depth interviews with 22 media professionals working for/in media situated in small conflict-reporting ecosystems. The first two cases involve freelance and staff Central and Eastern European and freelance Western European (non-UK) reporters: in total 14 men and three women from the Czech Republic, Italy, the Netherlands, France, Germany, Slovakia, Austria, Hungary, Romania, and Ukraine. While there are significant differences between media ecosystems delimited by nation-state borders, all these reporters worked for non-Anglophone media, which, to various degrees, defined/limited their job opportunities and budgets. Five more research participants (men from Italy, Belgium, Sweden, US/CEE) navigated the strongly “impoverished” terrain of news (“war”) photography, including in Anglophone news ecosystems 2 . While their work is less linguistically bound and more transnational, making their personal background less relevant, recent developments in the industry have reduced the market volume and resulted in dire conditions (Hudson, 2023; Istek, 2017). All the interviewees – recruited through snowball sampling and existing professional contacts – had covered conflicts, in particular, the Russo-Ukrainian War, Israel, and Palestine (before 7 October 2023).
This research is part of a larger project on conflict reporting ecosystems, focused on reporting from Ukraine, Israel, and Palestine; therefore, all the reporters worked in at least one of these contexts, and three of the CEE reporters worked in all the contexts. All the interviewees also covered other countries or wars/conflicts; at least five specialized in conflict and crisis reporting. The diversity of the sample is purposeful, in line with the aims of the project; my aim is not to compare reporters from wide-ranging and very diverse media ecosystems but to analytically ground and conceptualize ambiguity as a trait dispersed across geographical, cultural, and professional spaces of conflict reporting.
The choice of the term “ecosystem” is not random. While the research participants speak about small “markets,” the term “ecosystem” stresses that the spaces where the research participants work are highly interdependent and porous and cannot be understood in terms of pure “market” logic and bilateral relationships (see Kostovska et al., 2021, p. 10). However, political-economic factors have profound consequences for who gets to be engaged in global conflict reporting and how, thus highlighting the importance of gender, class, ethnicity, educational background, regional specifics, or forms of proximity (Ahva and Pantti, 2014) to the contexts they cover – factors that very much shape the ambiguity and ambivalence of the profession.
The interviews, lasting between 30 minutes and 3.5 hours each, focused on 1) bad work and precarity, 2) good work – as defined above by Hesmondhalgh and Baker (2011), 3) safety/risks involved in their work, and 4) emotional labour and mental well-being. The interviews were accompanied by an informed consent procedure, recorded, transcribed, pseudonymized, and analysed using thematic analysis (Braun and Clarke, 2006) combining theory-driven codes (bad work, good work, self-exploitation, small markets, unpaid work) and data-driven codes (work-work balance, awards, friendship, creative solutions and efficiency, fixing market, hierarchies, insurance, equipment, legal ignorance, junior/senior assertiveness, psychological training, invoicing, collaborations and solidarity, language). The next section narrates the themes that combine the most significant of these codes.
Beyond precarity
The research participants face types of precarity described in previous research (Creech, 2018; Filer, 2010; Hudson, 2023; Istek, 2017). They experience constraints on flexibility and self-entrepreneurship (multiskilling, upskilling, reskilling), perform months of unpaid labour/hope labour (Mackenzie and McKinlay, 2021), are often not insured, trained, or even appropriately vaccinated to travel to a conflict zone, are distracted by bureaucratic requirements, and face diverse conflict-related or war-related safety and mental well-being risks. Due to the tough competition in this “jungle”, characterized as “a war between freelancers” (cf. Zhang, 2016), journalists treat any problem as a taboo (Theresa). Like other creative labour (Banks, 2007; McRobbie, 1998; Perreault and Bélair-Gagnon, 2022), their work involves the exchange of stability and decent pay for enthusiasm and self-realization. The main problem is reportedly the outflow of money from journalism, creating conditions in which “we all have to fight for our own position in the industry” (Daniel). The most radical change in the industry is observed by photographers: even award-winning photographers working for major clients (Joshua, Bruno, Eric) constantly feel under pressure to ask for less money, reduce expenses, and take side jobs.
Yet, somewhat surprisingly, the resulting intensity levels of the work’s “bad” aspects do not vary much across the sub-groups of SE conflict reporters in the sample. Rather, they depend on 1) the type of news outlet in/for which the reporters work, 2) their employment status (freelancing/false self-employment/employed staff), and 3) their seniority. Therefore, the rest of this section is organized around these three axes.
Start-ups and legacy media
First, there is a clear hierarchy in the extent of provided support, such as insurance, hostile environment equipment, and training, with large Anglophone media companies (e.g., NYT, Getty, National Geographic) usually providing relatively extensive support and safety networks and policies; larger/stable SE news outlets, such as public service media (PSM) trying to catch up; and, finally, small SE news outlets and start-ups: “That really depends on the media. I mean, if it’s a large media, … they have not only insurance, but they also have a sort of network and sort of policy to try to maintain your safety.” (Bruno) “[When I worked as an employee of a Hungarian TV station], they [gave] me a big car, they granted us bulletproof vests, helmets.” (Béla)
Employees of a Czech PSM (Karel, Hynek) and a freelancer working for a large Dutch commercial medium (Daniel) are covered by a company insurance policy and offered hostile environment training, including psychological training or a preparatory session with seasoned conflict reporters. When working for other – smaller – clients, “normally nobody brings it up [laughs]” (Joshua).
Josef, who founded a CEE media start-up, provides a behind-the-scenes perspective: “You can profit from the fact that people need adventure, self-exploration, and so on, and they want to go there anyway.”
Theresa, who works for multiple European SE and Anglophone media, problematizes this media-dependent hierarchy of support and safety by highlighting the importance of another axis: freelancing vs. employment.
Freelancing and staff work
While employed journalists get paid regularly and thus face less financial and social insecurity, the freelance SE conflict reporters’ work is erratic, unstable, and low-income (Joshua, Theresa). The main problem with the financial instability is the amount of unpaid work, or workload beyond working hours, the freelancers need to perform to secure assignments and make ends meet: “There’s like months when you don’t get work, and you are thinking, like, why didn’t I study IT or something like that, you know. … Pretty much every time I was freelance, it has been like that.” (Florian) “I’ve spent, you know, hundreds and hundreds of hours researching these stories. … it’s just not feasible to work for months, literally for months, and not get paid at all for it, and then potentially … there’s no guarantee that it’s even gonna turn into anything.” (Joshua)
Furthermore, this financial instability spills over to the freelancers’ financial relationships with their collaborators, such as local producers and fixers, who are also asked to perform unpaid/hope labour.
Once the assignment is agreed upon, the freelancers receive relatively little support for insurance, training, or equipment compared to staff reporters, who are often covered by company group insurance by default, provided with equipment, and trained beforehand. Eva, Ian, and Göran have worked for companies that, before going on a hostile environment assignment, cover them with company insurance, and some even provide equipment – if there is enough time to make these arrangements. The standard, however, seems to be that freelancers cover their insurance and rent bulletproof vests and helmets themselves, and their safety is sometimes ignored by “cynical” (Theresa), “wilfully blind” (Joshua), and “egocentric” (Eva) editors: “And [the editors] tried to get the cameraman, who’s a freelancer, to go [to an African country] without insurance, you know. And then he said in a meeting: that’s illegal. … And then, like, our boss kind of just ignored that and left.” (Florian) “And so [the editor] said: ‘I can’t commission you if you don’t have [insurance, HEFAT]. So we can’t send you out there. … but you know, if you come back with good stuff, with a good story, and you know, you have it ready, and you can show it to us, we might be able to take it.’” (Daniel) “[The editor] asked me whether he could come, whether I don’t think it’s too dangerous for him. And I was incredibly offended by this question because somebody could also say, you know, how are you, how are you dealing with it?” (Eva)
Journalistic insurance for the countries relevant to this paper (e.g., Ukraine and Israel – excluding the occupied territories) covering war-related risks costs several thousand euros per week (see Annex 1). Since the insurance cost is so hefty, “it is a luxury that very few [SE reporters] can afford” (Milan) – and arguably few freelancers in Anglophone ecosystems, as well. Therefore, an Italian freelancer, Paolo, says: “I know a lot of freelancers who go to the frontline [in Ukraine] without insurance. I have the money to buy insurance, but I decided not to buy the most expensive one because it was hard for me to spend that much money.”
Peter, a CEE freelancer, adopted an ad hoc strategy, paying for quality war zone insurance only for the specific days he plans to spend on the frontline or in a high-risk zone. Again, the lack of protection extends to freelancers’ local collaborators and fixers: “It’s hard enough to advocate for that stuff for yourself. Let alone for somebody else.” (Joshua)
On the contrary, working as an employee is seen as beneficial not only in terms of physical and social security but also in terms of access to, and institutional backing for, visas, diverse permits to stay and work in the country, press credentials, and professional networks.
Some interviewees (Eva, Daniel, Jean-Claude) find themselves in a hybrid zone of false self-employment, explained by Eva as “a freelancer, but with a fixed amount of money.” To Daniel, false self-employment is beneficial in terms of the salary from and “institutional power” of the media company he works for. On the other hand, this working status comes with a lack of social security, no paid holidays, and no parental leave.
Seniority, ethnicity, nationality, and social capital
Finally, the SE reporters’ levels of precarity depended on their seniority because “If you’re doing something really creative, where you care so much about the story, there’s all kinds of things which you accept that you wouldn’t normally accept. … when you are more senior, you start saying no to things” (Florian). The same shift away from self-funding, lack of insurance, and romanticization of creative labour was narrated by Daniel, Bruno, and Eric.
Next to these three precarity axes, structural differences are defined by other identity markers, such as ethnicity or nationality. For example, “It makes an immense difference whether one is from Czechia or, for example, Germany or the UK. Persuading someone that it’s important to talk to journalists from a 10 million country … This is unpleasant. That giving an interview to a journalist from Czechia is a kind of charity, I would say.” (Milan)
Florian, working for media companies across Europe and beyond, pointed to epistemic injustice reportedly stemming from his CEE ethnicity and the need to constantly prove his professionalism. Similar stories are widespread among local producers and fixers (Kotišová, 2023).
Furthermore, the position of a journalist on the continuum of precarity and safety depends on more vague factors, such as the journalists’ social capital and random contextual factors. Challenging the importance of all support and protection that has been discussed in this section, Peter said that having insurance, institutional support, press credentials, and safety equipment does not really matter: “Either someone helps you there, and it’s not about money, or no one helps you, and you die, whatever insurance you have.”
Solidarity, autonomy, and excellence
Many aspects of their work that are perceived by the SE reporters as positive do not differ from the typical attributes of “good work” (Hesmondhalgh and Baker, 2011): Florian, Mark, Daniel, Theresa, and Anna are attracted by the creativity of the labour, witnessing history, travelling, working on important content, and having a sense of purpose and meaning. Some mention their ego and adrenalin rush (Mark, Alois), prestige (Daniel), the impact of their work (Theresa), and the possibility of learning (Anna). Up to this point, the analysis does not significantly differ from other analyses of creative labour.
However, their work is also good in a variety of ways intensified by its intense precarity: it is social, in some respects relatively autonomous, the SE media professionals become highly involved experts on the regions they cover and thus can produce excellent content (Hesmondhalgh and Baker, 2011). The rest of this section unpacks these aspects, pointing to the inherent ambivalence and ambiguity of creative labour (Kotišová, 2019b; Taylor and Karen, 2016).
“Everyone is a fixer”: Friendship and reciprocity
First, the low budgets and lack of top-down networks mean that most of the SE research participants, and even some PSM staff journalists, often work “alone” or without professional local producers or fixers. Compared to many staff reporters operating in Anglophone ecosystems (see e.g., Murrell, 2010), this starting point leads them to either excessively prepare beforehand to reduce costs (Mark) or, on the contrary, improvise and work as “backpackers” (Hynek), “adventurers” or “punks” (Alois). Milan, summarizing the improvisation, says: “The specifics of Central European journalists is that they often do not have money for fixers, so they have to do their best. At the beginning of my journalizing, it was common for me to go somewhere and just talk to people who spoke one of the languages I spoke. In Ukraine, I had the big advantage of being fluent in Russian, so I could do all the paperwork myself. And also a specific type of journalism: I travelled a lot – maybe against some safety principles – by hitchhiking, on foot, I would ask the locals to take me somewhere and wanted to know their stories.”
It is evident throughout the data that in several cases the conditions of isolation and low pay require – or force – the journalists not only to build close and direct ties with sources on the ground, “common people” (Peter), but also give rise to broad and organic solidarity networks of (professional) friends: “There is solidarity among journalists … journalists are brothers to each other.” (Alois)
These networks, securing mutual help among journalists, are based on gift economy and a tacit promise of reciprocity and are highlighted by Matthias, Milan, Alois, Karel, Hynek, Peter, Anna, Eric, and Daniel as a social, rewarding feature of their work.
The reciprocity, in line with the continuum of precarity, is hierarchical. Alois says: “Even when we went [to a conflict zone] as a part of a newsroom, Western freelancers were better funded than us … When they pitied us, they took us in the car.” The (SE) journalists thus often join with or piggyback on a team with a car or each other. They share or exchange the costs of cars and gas, fixers’ labour, body armour, contacts, advice, technologies, or food. A common reciprocity service is also fixing and translating, which turns nearly everyone into an occasional fixer: “There is that sense of camaraderie, that in fact, everyone is a fixer for everyone.” (Eric)
The modus operandi of SE reporters is also a way to avoid risks for fixers (Bruno) or risks stemming from the work with fixers, such as being monitored by secret services (Max, Daniel, Peter, Göran – in Iraq, Palestine, China, and the Russian-occupied part of Donbas) or receiving filtered information (Theresa, Bruno).
Documenting the reliance of conflict reporters’ work on friendships, acquaintances, and romantic relationships (as well as NGOs, international bodies, and press trips) would require a separate study, as it has significant consequences for epistemological practices.
Quasi-ethnographic reporting and creativity
The described modus operandi resembles ethnographic journalism (Hermann, 2016) and, in certain ways typical for this genre, benefits the quality of reporting.
First, it prioritizes journalists who speak the local language (for example, Milan, Béla, Karel, Hynek, Theresa, Eva, and Alois speak some Arabic, Hebrew, or Russian), which, together with social skills, allows them to gather information in a wide range of informal situations. As Theresa says: “The most interesting things come when you are, you know, having dinner or you are walking. … With the leader of [a major political and military group in the Middle East], … the most interesting things were said outside of the formal conversation.”
Second, the precarity and relatively low importance of SE media/journalists in global agenda-setting make it easier to merge with the context, to become a fly on the wall, and immerse oneself in the community and its everyday life (Amit, 2003). Anna explains: “For instance, in Iraq or Lebanon, … because I was not that Western reporter with money, but … quite a poor reporter, first they felt like, I’m just a white reporter coming from Europe. But later, when they understood that we have more in common, I really made friends with many.”
The same can also lead to a surprising openness of sources: “They don’t know who you are, so they tell you everything.” (Alois) “You extract information from people that they would be afraid to tell the BBC.” (Milan)
The research participants’ repeated immersion in everyday contexts thus enables many of them to develop certain contextual expertise. The quotes above point directly to the ambiguity of conflict reporters’ positions – their volatility and in-between-ness – but also to how this ambiguity is intertwined with the ambivalence of their work. In other words, the functions of ambiguity – invisibility, marginality, unimportance, non-Western ethnicity – cause epistemic injustice and reliance on “charitable” interviews and offer epistemic resources.
Finally, the SE reporters – who, like ethnographers, have a relatively free manoeuvring space in what to focus on – appreciate their individual autonomy (Örnebring et al., 2016): “What makes it really great is that you are really free in what you are doing. You are free to select the articles, you are free to spend your time there.” (Anna)
The individual autonomy, and also the SE reporters' imposed creativity, is taken to the limits by Anna: at some point in her career, she would earn money as a fixer in a CEE country only to later use the money to go to cover a conflict zone in the Middle East: “I really wanted to pursue this career of reporting from the Middle East. And so, I found this odd economic model,” she explains. Her strategy of deliberate migration on the conflict reporting continuum lays bare ambiguity as an essential trait of current conflict reporting where “everyone is a fixer.”
Conclusion
The global conflict reporting jungle is a complex, ambivalent place. On the one hand, navigating it alone and without proper support increases the various risks conflict reporters face (Creech, 2018; Van Der Hoeven and Kester, 2022). In regard to
The jungle is also a beautiful place defined by unexpected encounters, new beginnings, and growth. One of the metaphors the research participants use for the conflict reporting ecosystem (or war in general) is the x-ray: it reveals the worst in people but also the best, and many find the closest connections in war zones. Thus, it is also legitimate to ask
Therefore, with regard to
The cross-European diversity of experiences further illustrates the ambiguity of conflict reporters’ positions, which, in turn, also implies that in terms of precarity, creativity, and solidarity, there are no solid borders between European SE, Anglophone ecosystems, other SE (Mabweazara, 2018), and other large conflict reporting ecosystems (Zhang, 2016). In principle, a junior British freelance photographer can have more in common with a Slovak freelancer or a Ukrainian fixer than with a CNN staff reporter. The ambiguity is shaped by the diversity of reporters’ proximities to the local context (Ahva and Pantti, 2014), each other, and other ecosystems. These proximities problematize any clear-cut divisions. This is why it is important to study conflict reporters’ identities as ambiguous and hybrid, defined by global racial/ethnic hierarchies, political-economic relations, languages, gender, forms of knowledge, class formations etc. – all the “scattered hegemonies” in conflict correspondence (Kotišová and Deuze, 2022; Shome and Hegde, 2002).
Interestingly, in 2010, Sambrook wrote that “[i]n future, foreign correspondents are likely to be far more diverse in gender, ethnicity and background. They will speak the language and have specialist knowledge of the country before they are eligible to be appointed” (Sambrook, 2010, p. 99). The data presented in this paper illustrate that the future is now.
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Supplemental Material - “It’s a jungle”: Precarity, solidarity, and ambiguity in small conflict reporting ecosystems
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Footnotes
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This project has received funding from the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under the Marie Skłodowska-Curie grant agreement No 887406. The work on the paper was also supported by Research Foundation – Flanders, grant number 1234624N.
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