SAMAN GHANI KHAN - Suffering in Silence: Journalists and Mental Health
On May 12, 2007,
Karachi’s residents stayed indoors. Public transport was closed and so were
schools, but Asif was heading towards the very danger that most people were
avoiding.
As a television
reporter for a major news channel, he did not have the option to stay away.
Word had gotten to him that a cameraman was hiding under a car to protect
himself from the hired thugs of a local political party who were on a killing
rampage nearby.
The violence was
prompted by the arrival of the recently suspended Chief Justice of Pakistan
Iftikhar Muhammad Chaudhry. Gunfights and riots erupted across the city as
Pakistan Peoples Party and Awami National Party activists, who supported
Chaudhry, clashed with workers of the pro-government Muttahida Qaumi Movement. Asif and a colleague
of his made their way to Malir Halt area where the cameraman was trapped. When
they arrived, they saw bodies strewn around the vicinity. Some were still
alive, but there was no one around to help them. A rangers’ office nearby had
its shutters down too.
A man was lying on the
ground with a bullet in his stomach. When Asif noticed he was still alive, a
gunman prevented him from helping the bleeding man. He was to be left for the
dead. What happened in the
following moments still haunts the 45-year-old journalist to this day. While
Asif was trying to negotiate a safe passage for as many people as he could, the
gunmen suddenly opened fire at a group of people they believed to be supporters
of the rival political party. Asif had never seen anything like it. “The way
these people were shot in cold blood remains etched in my memory,” he says.
Reporting on violence
was not new to Asif, who now has 15 years of experience in the field. Being
around dead bodies was part of the job. But this was different. He could not
sleep for three days and it took him years to shake off the effect the incident
had on his daily life. Taking a shower was particularly traumatic, as he could
not keep his head under running water for more than a few moments. For a while,
he could not sleep without all the lights on.
“It broke me,” says
Asif. Even in the absence of any medical evaluation of what he went through, it
is obvious that he suffered. He wouldn’t be the first, or the last. As much as journalists
like to believe that they are immune to the impact of violence and tragedy, the
reality is sometimes different. While some journalists build a robust coping
mechanism to deal with the emotional effects of their line of work over time,
there are others who are more vulnerable and suffer in silence. Afraid of being
judged by their peers and superiors, they try and process the feelings on their
own.…
Speaking to
journalists from diverse backgrounds and mediums, there seems to be a
dismissive – almost flippant – attitude towards trauma or stress-related
psychological disorders. At least at first.
“It’s a natural part
of the job,” says Wusatullah Khan, a senior journalist associated with the BBC and Dawn
News, as he sips a cup of tea in the lawns of the Karachi Press Club. The
subject of mental health is a hard one to broach in Pakistani society to begin
with — least of all, among a group of seasoned male journalists. For there is
the idea that journalists are observers, reporting on the suffering of others
is their job – which somehow renders their own suffering irrelevant. Yet, even
the senior professionals acknowledge tremendous amount of pressure that comes
with working in the field.
“I still remember
those golden curls sticking out from under the rubble. They most likely
belonged to a dead girl whose body was still trapped underneath,” says Khan,
recalling his experience of covering the 2005 Kashmir earthquake that claimed
more than 80,000 lives. He believes he is immune to the hard realities of the
job, but admits that perhaps this is his way of rationalising his experiences.
“Maybe there is a dormant virus inside us; one never knows when it will
surface,” he says.
Most journalists don’t
even know the problem exists. “I feel fine. I like adventure and danger,” says
Wasay, a crime reporter. In his 14 years on the job, Wasay claims to have
covered “thousands of violent incidents”. Apart from the more dramatic ones –
bomb blasts and riots – he estimates reporting on two or three killings on a
typical day. “One time, I caught an
SHO taking bribes. He threw me in the lock up and beat me. The video is online.
On another occasion, I was also beaten by the Rangers,” he says. That, though,
is not the worst of it. While covering the funeral of a local cleric, Wasay was
caught in the crossfire and sustained four bullets in his arm. He was trying to
cover his face. “My family says I’m no
longer a human being. I don’t get extremely happy on happy occasions and I
don’t get too upset when someone close to me dies. I just don’t feel anything,”
says Wasay. But without professional psychiatric evaluation, Wasay’s statements
remain just that — statements.
In an environment
where senior journalists and newsroom managers pay little heed to the emotional
well-being of reporters, it is no wonder that so few come forward with their
problems. For journalists all over the world, especially Pakistan, witnessing a
cold-blooded murder – as was the case with Asif – or being exposed to killings
regularly – as was Wasay – is not uncommon. If not through first-hand contact,
many experience these events second-hand. Reporters, assignment editors, desk
editors, photojournalists, cameramen and other members of the newsroom are
involved in the coverage of many tragedies and traumatic events, including natural
disasters. All these events create lasting memories, some more crippling than
others.
Researchers in the
field of traumatic stress in the West are only beginning to examine the toll
this profession may have on the mental health of journalists. It was not until
15 years ago that Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) was acknowledged in the
field of journalism — one of the last professions to recognise the serious
disorder. In 2013, the American Psychiatric Association specifically included
to its definition of PTSD work-related, repeated and indirect exposure to
distressing material.…
In Pakistan, little to
no research has been done on the impact of prolonged reporting on violent and
traumatic events as well as the extreme stress of newsrooms have on
journalists. Pressure comes from various sources, including intelligence
agencies and political parties, as well as criminal/terrorist networks. These
factors exclude daily workplace stressors, such as deadlines and long work
hours.
Exposure to violence
in Pakistan is far more frequent compared to most other countries and many
journalists fear for their jobs as well as their lives. Pakistan was ranked the
fourth deadliest for journalists in the world in a report published by the
International Federation of Journalists this year.
In the absence of
quantifiable evidence to shed light on journalists and their mental health,
along with the reluctance of most media houses to invest in the emotional – and
physical – well-being of their daily reporters, there are still some who are
working to break the silence on the issue and help journalists cope.
Recognising the needs
of hundreds of journalists in the embattled region of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa and
the tribal belt, the journalism and psychology departments at the University of
Peshawar established a Competence and Trauma Centre for Journalists in November
2014 in collaboration with DW Akademie, a German media company. The centre
receives referrals for journalists who seek counselling through the Peshawar
Press Club and the Khyber Union of Journalists. Therapy is free for
journalists.
“We were not expecting
more than four or five people in the first month of operation,” says Professor
Altafullah Khan, chairman of the department of journalism and mass
communication at the University of Peshawar . So when 40 journalists came
through the doors in 2015, those involved with the centre knew they were making
a difference. “We were pleased to see some senior journalists breaking the
stigma and coming forward,” says Altafullah Khan. In the initial stages of
introducing counselling at the local press club, Khan recalled what he feels is
a normal first response from journalists: “You are making this place sound like
a mental asylum.”
“The main issue is how
quickly these journalists get burnt out due to stress,” says Farhat Naz, a psychotherapist
who worked at the centre during its first year of operation. She has been
involved in therapy treatment of over 20 journalists; in her opinion, many of
those who seek help suffer from the psychological impact of working 24/7 and
receiving poor compensation. The symptoms, she
says, include anxiety, sleep deprivation, depression and, in some cases, PTSD.
After experiencing traumatic events through their work, some journalists get
flashbacks and suffer nightmares regularly. “Family members are affected in
many cases, as journalists return home appearing irritable and aggressive,
losing their temper more frequently.”
“There is a serious
need to build a vocabulary around trauma in Pakistani newsrooms,” says Sehrish
Shaban, who has worked in newsrooms in the United States, Pakistan and India.
She is now a media consultant and is also studying to be a counsellor herself.
To gather material on how pervasive the problem is, Shaban recently conducted
an online survey of 500 journalists across Pakistan. Her findings speak of the
occupational stress that is inherent across newsrooms all over the country,
especially in television news.
The survey shows that
66% of respondents had faced both a security threat and knew a colleague who
was attacked. Almost 60% of respondents reported routinely working overtime,
65% feared job security and almost all respondents struggled with poor
compensation and ethical dilemmas. “Pakistan’s relatively young,
privately-owned television and online news industry lacks regulatory standards
that safeguard professionals,” says Shaban... read more
