My Europe: Multispeed European war reporting

War rages in Syria, Iraq and Ukraine's Donbass region. Every day, shots are fired, people suffer and die. But in Europe, save for the resulting inflow of refugees, this goes almost unnoticed. Europeans feel safe and secure – these conflicts, it seems to them, are occurring someplace else, far away. In eastern Europe, in particular, there is little awareness of these wars. Media reports from the war-stricken regions are much rarer than in the West. But without such reporting and the awareness it generates, societies cannot feel empathy for others, let alone for refugees or those in need.

I am currently based in Kobane, northern Syria. Before this, I was in Raqqa. There, Kurdish fighters chauffeured me around in a military Humvee. Armored cars are the go-to vehicle for traveling into Raqqa city center. It's impossible to look out of some of them because their bulletproof windows have splintered after taking enemy fire.

Traveling in a Humvee requires utmost concentration: its engine must never go out, braking and cornering are abrupt manoeuvres. During my time in Raqqa, Kurdish and Arab militias – with the backing of the United States – were engaged in fierce fighting against the so-called "Islamic State" (IS). Raqqa was engulfed in a permanent cloud of dust, with smoke everywhere. Fighter planes kept bombing the city and even neighborhoods that had already been razed to the ground. Over 3,200 people are said to have been killed in the fighting, a third of them civilians. I have never seen a city obliterated like this.  

A greenhorn reporting from a war zone

This is my fourth year working as a war correspondent. In 2013, I was reporting from Kyiv about the Maidan square protests as a freelance journalist. Some 100 people died in the protests. When everything ended, I did not return to Poland, but journeyed onward to Ukraine's Donbass region. At that time, I was unaware that the regional protests had escalated into all-out war.

I brought a high-visibility vest along - I was a greenhorn, without any experience of war zones. Over time, the conflict and my more seasoned colleagues taught me what to expect. Only one news department actually inquired whether I was equipped with a bulletproof vest. I was not. And I hadn't received any training to prepare for reporting from war zones, either. But nobody seemed to care all that much. Meanwhile, I have purchased my own camera and equipment, own several bulletproof vests, and have completed special war zone training. I usually still cover my own travel expenses, though.

Reporting from 'multispeed Europe'

For the most part, war means sitting around and waiting. It has absolutely nothing in common with the kind of war zone "action" we are shown on TV or in computer games. In war, you wait around for hours in bombed-out houses or in ditches, drinking tea or coffee or other caffeinated beverages. Bursts of "action" are rare and end abruptly. So war correspondents talk to those around them, listen and observe. One time, while reporting from Iraqi Kurdistan, I sat together with two other Polish war correspondents and a group of other reporters. One major western TV station had sent a whole group: a war correspondent, a producer, a sound engineer and two camera technicians. German and British media organizations take war reporting seriously.

We Polish war correspondents were struck by the same realization: "Here one media outlet alone has sent a group of five to report from the region, and the three of us report for a total of eight different news organizations." An amusing thought at first. But a sad realization, really. It could have made us cry. This is what it feels when media outlets have very limited resources. You could call this financial discrepancy in Europe's media landscape a manifestation of "multispeed Europe." Our experience as Polish war correspondents is shared by many other correspondents from eastern Europe. We're forced to go it alone, like lone wolves.

This lack of resources is packaged well, though. It's labeled "digital journalism": correspondents shoot footage, make pictures and record the sound, while planning in-depth reports and simultaneously posting short clips on social networks and tweeting. Luckily, I haven't yet got the cash for a drone. Content has to be produced faster, as efficiently as possible, and must be exclusive. And without a powerful news department for support, "digital journalists" also need to engage in self-marketing all by themselves.

Veracity vs fake news

Together, all these different tasks often overwhelm me – especially when outside bombs are raining down. Working on two things at once is just about feasible. Working on three or four is out of the question.

Once you start taking fire, you begin observing others. In this kind of immediate danger, people open up, regardless if they're soldiers, militants or civilians. I am here to report on these developments, on the people in these war zones and their thoughts. These are things that few people in my homeland and neighboring countries seem to care about. In my reporting, I neither want to whitewash nor judge what is happening. But I risk a lot to do this job. And that's why I wish the media would acknowledge that following social media posts originating from war zones does not equate to knowing what's actually happening "on the ground." These kinds of posts would have been dismissed as parochial opinions in the past – today they're afforded great attention. Media organizations profess to fight "fake news" but are perpetually duped by disinformation spread online.

It's difficult to market real stories about people caught up in war. They're not spectacular enough for the media. And those who've witnessed war firsthand, like traumatized soldiers, rarely talk to reporters. Especially in eastern Europe, where the ideal of strong men and relentless patriots is widespread, nobody wants to come across as a sensitive weakling. But eastern European populations will continue to ignore the war unless eastern European media shows the human suffering involved. Until then, nationalism and militarism will keep flourishing.

Pawel Pieniazek, born in 1989, is a Polish journalist. He has reported from the Maidan protests in Kyiv, the war in Donbass, in Iraq and Syria. An English translation of his book "Greetings from Novorossiya" was published in November 2017.