When I was in journalism school, I desperately wanted to be that reporter who got sent in to cover the latest conflict. The idea of parachuting in somewhere and sifting through the turmoil to find the best stories and beating everyone else to press (or to air) seemed thrilling.
That might sound callous but I think - I know - there are other journalists out there who identify with what I'm saying. Parachuting into a news story is often what sets you apart from other journalists: you get the chance to tell compelling stories that nobody else can; you have the reader or viewer's attention, and newspapers and stations love to show they have people in the middle of a natural disaster or a war.
There is already a lot of debate over whether parachute journalism is effective: Can you, as a complete outsider, really get the lay of the land and understand a conflict that has been bubbling under the surface for years, within two days? Can you understand a culture or way of life within the first hours of landing in a village? Even though the answer would intuitively be no, I always believed the best journalists would find the best stories regardless.
But somehow, after spending five years reporting on "normal" stories and finally getting the chance to go where the action is, I came back with mixed feelings. I'm not so sure those journalists I met in Turkey were finding the best angles, simply because they were under pressure to interview fast and pump out material as soon as possible. And from what I saw, that time pressure kept them from establishing any sort of connection to real people with real stories around them.
Don't get me wrong - of course, they did meet with refugees and find compelling stories. And they are highly skilled journalists who can write beautifully in a very short period of time - and I'm envious of that. But on the other hand, we're talking about towns, villages, regions and countries rich with detail and complexity - stories buried deep under several layers of interviews and several hours of sitting in a living room, politely sipping several cups of tea.
I know the reason that parachute journalism exists: Media outlets have no money to keep foreign correspondents anymore. It's easier and cheaper to have one journalist on staff jump in a plane and head to Libya, Tunisia, Egypt or Syria. But news outlets miss out on some of the most interesting stories that way.
The solution, of course, is to rely on freelancers who live in the region or country - and I'm not just saying that because I'm part of ARA, which is what we are trying to do. Journalists familiar with the region and who understand the locals can add color and context to a story that nobody else can.
I know I felt overwhelmed landing in the middle of Turkey's Hatay province with Nurhan Kocaoglu - and we weren't even under daily time pressure. Thankfully, Nurhan, with her Turkish background and language skills, is very familiar with the country and was able to forge friendships and relationships that would have been impossible as an outsider alone. Because of her, we got access no other foreign journalists did. Still, even though we spent nearly a week there and were lucky enough to find some incredible stories, I still felt like we were just scratching the surface. And we were.
I'll still go wherever I'm sent but gone are the days where I long for a whirlwind two-day stint in Iraq followed by four days in Libya. I'm not sure I'd be able to process the wide range of emotions you're hit with everyday and turn around to start again somewhere else. If anything, I hope we as freelancers can set the bar high by spending time and making return trips - and proving that's the best way to find the best stories.
-- Sumi Somaskanda (Hatay province, Turkey)
