Foreign News: Where-istan?

Foreign news is a strange thing, particularly for a British audience. It is surprising the amount of news stories that go untraced as they are not deemed newsworthy. If there is no relationship or historical context, then it is unlikely to see the light of day. If it does not feature a protagonist who doesn’t mirror our perceived stereotypes, then it isn’t even worth covering. If it involves a country we’ve never knew existed, then it’s more than likely we don’t even care.

We are all guilty at jumping to conclusions, particularly when events strike. The protests that have paralysed much of France only assert our previous conclusions about our Gallic neighbours and what about Chile? If we ignore the miners and the earthquake earlier this year, we tend to think of General Pinochet and his odious regime. To an extent, the media is not entirely to blame, there are plenty of other resources dedicated to different regions in the world but ultimately we tend to ignore them. A news organisation cannot necessarily win because the expense of running such a bureau often means that in certain places several correspondents are forced to cover an entire continent on a shoestring budget; foreign news is a delicacy to any newshound.

Another problem is justification; we get a bigger share of foreign news from America because (if you ignore the obvious cultural ties) more things happen there. Yet, even despite this coverage it is perfectly reasonable to accept that most Brits, nor Europeans really understand what the average American citizen thinks. This is perhaps where cultural values can blur and national identities become prevalent. The paper press do this, but even the television media.

There are forthcoming elections in Burma this November, yet we will only hear observations on the absence of pro-democracy campaigner Aung Sang Sui Chi, not the splits in her party or the ethnic tensions surrounding it. Last year in Sri Lanka, the British media focussed purely on the fate of the Tamil people, it entirely neglected the years of suffering inflicted on the Sinhalese population. Why do we have a fondness to follow the devious and megalomaniac regime of Robert Mugabe, yet we ignored the bloody conflict that killed millions in the DR Congo. There is a case of subjectivism and some stories do not warrant nor require the gaze as others but it does put a question on news values as a whole. Unfortunately, humanitarian stories, particularly natural disasters, receive wider coverage and dedication than stories that have been progressing for years. We were all aware of the Haiti Earthquake, yet there is little to show on famine in the Central African Republic or even in Palestine? Yet, starving Africans or trouble in the Middle East is hardly anything new. They are stories that lack hope or renew interest from a day-to-day basis, so maybe we shouldn’t be surprised.

The internet and global communications have completely changed boundaries and increased the capacity to react to events in an age of 24 hour news. Yet, editorial judgement, public perceptions and short term analysis has created an environment where news operates to fill time space and any closer scrutiny serves to reiterate historical stereotypes and recover little further. Perhaps it’s a post-colonial come down or just the fact we’ve grown accustomed to being a top dog.

Greedy footballers: Wayne Rooney

One thing about being a football fan is the question of why do we put ourselves through it all? The pain and heartbreak of defeat, the uncertainty and speculation over the club and squad; it all puts it into perspective. Why don’t people choose hobbies that provide the relief and excitement without lamentation and soreness. The obvious answer that all football fans can give is besides the nadirs of following a club, nothing can replicate the euphoria of a victory or glory; it is the same as religious evangelism and creates a passion that is intangible to analyse.

Sport at an anthropological level is full of heroes and villains. The soap opera and pantomime stories that follow the professional game highlight the cult and age we live in. It is unfortunate that the denigration and naivety to idolise players has distorted their real characters and personalities. Sportsmen and women are rarely the amateur peoples’ champion that we all love; they are driven, single-minded athletes. They lead a live that is furious and demanding, yet they lead it for glory and to etch their name into history. To describe a sportsman or woman as selfish is not to defame their moral character but their persistence to perform and win. The professionalisation of sport created an industry that pushes athletes to new levels and creates spectacles we can only admire. It also creates a vanity and a spectrum for fame and wealth. Nobody should deny them the opportunity to earn, nor penalise their success; it just happens that most of the time it is not just their own lives’ they are changing.

The saga that has become Wayne Rooney’s future enhances the selfishness of the modern day player. The pronouncements from the Rooney camp are unequivocal in his desire to leave, but do not detract from the ambiguity of previous comments. Rooney left his first love, Everton Football Club, to join Alex Ferguson and Manchester United at the age of 18, so we should not be surprised. ‘The boy’ is ambitious and has already won a great deal for the club, but his ‘desire’ is being used to masquerade his greed. Rooney does not see himself as a Bryan Robson, playing at a club for a decade among inferior players, he feels he deserves he should be at the top club being paid top brass. His overtures to an extent have some truth and the Glazer tenure has made United’s future less secure financially and competitively, yet his arguments are as thin as his loyalty. Rooney is a financial mercenary like John Terry or Joleon Lescott, and the kissing of the club badge is about affectionate as treading in shit.

Superstars perform on the pitch and off the pitch to their club’s commercial arm, to an extent it can be deemed an insult to the intelligence of fans but shows their naivety to believe in this facade. Rooney probably has respect for his club's supporters but we have seen his spite when representing England. If and when he moves, fans will be bitterly disappointed but they will soon appoint a new poster boy. Rooney certainly did enough, particularly last season, to show how good a footballer he is but it goes to show it inevitably doesn’t matter what shirt you’re wearing, as long you’re being handsomely rewarded for it.

The Cossacks: To Russia with love?

There is something warm about watching the reaction of soldiers returning from war. The lucid smiles and cries of happiness when families reunite after months of absence and separation. It is not cold turkey, besides the post, there is the internet to keep them updated with news from back home. It was not the same for the men of World War Two. The policy of enlistment meant that men could be called away for years and often leave was something of a dream, especially at the front. Those men interned in Prisoner of War (PoW) camps fared worse, despite the depictions of Hollywood, successful escapes rarely occurred and incarceration for some men lasted the whole duration of the war. The only lifeline was from mail back home to keep their morale high and mind occupied.

Towards the end of the war, when the future of the world was being decided, the Allies signed agreements that all liberated soldiers of PoW camps would be returned to their native armies and homeward bound. This  was a relief for men longing for ‘Blighty’ as they were returning to a Britain forged with the new welfare state. The Soviets believed they would return to the Mother Russia as heroes and be repaid after much bloodshed. How they were wrong.

Around two million men and women were sent back to Russia by the British and Americans. They were coaxed with propaganda like ‘The Motherland has forgiven you! The Motherland calls you!’ Many had fought to the brink and seen their comrades die surrounding them. Many had been forced to work under German supervision (The Germans of course saw the Bolsheviks/Slavs as a sub-race). However, Stalin saw this as treachery, surrendering or corroborating with the sworn enemy as a crime. To many, these Russians had been forsaken three times: being ill-equipped to fight initially, receiving no support once captured and then finally the contempt of arriving home and accused of being a traitor. Much is depicted of German soldiers being sent to the notorious Gulags, but many Russians faced a death sentence in the Siberian tundra.

As one prisoner put it:

“For not wanting to die from a German bullet, the prisoner had to die from a Soviet bullet for having been a prisoner of war! Some get theirs from the enemy; we get ours from our own! ... In general, this war revealed to us that the worse thing to be was to be a Russian.”

One aspect that is lamentable from a British aspect was the fate of the Cossacks. They had actively fought against Stalin and supported the Nazis throughout the war. Towards the end of the conflict, Cossack units surrendered to the British hoping for leniency, but this was not to happen. As part of the Allied agreement, the British sent back around 23,000 Cossack men, women and children to a bleak and hopeless future. Upon learning their fate many Cossack soldiers committed suicide and further resistance was restrained by force. The inevitable doom had arisen.

Russia’s legacy of World War 2 paints the brave mass of men and women, who fought and snared the beast of Nazism. It was bloody and probably the most nihilistic war we have ever seen. Figures estimate that 23 to 27 million Soviets died in their attempt to liberate the Motherland. The famous matchsticks that divided the continent for another 40 years, shackled another generation and killed the hope and efforts of the many millions who had fought for liberation.

Climbing the Eiger - Wall of Death

When people define what they have done in their lives, what accounts as impressive or a real achievement? Raising a successful family and being an active member of the community? How about being wealthy and making an impact in business? In an era of autobiography overload, what separates people from being interesting to having led interesting lives? No one gets to write their own epitaph but what makes people more memorable than others? The most tangible achievements are those painted across history, through books and the media: the breaking of the four-minute mile, the Apollo landings, the explosion of the Atomic bomb. All have harnessed the pursuit for man to progress and conquer milestones. Perhaps it is the British trait to succeed and place our flag on the unknown and the most remote. It is nearly sixty years since Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay first reached the summit of Everest, the Earth’s tallest peak, but is it the most impressive mountaineering feat? Why is it that the sullen, deadly cliff of the Northern face of the Eiger represents a bigger, more threatening challenge to mountaineers?

Not that I am any mountain expert, but the sheer scale and challenge of the North face is visible from the picture below. Sitting in the North-Western Alps of Switzerland, it nestles in perpetual darkness and often in the smoky mist of the Alpine bleakness. Concave cliffs that scale over 3000 metres that have lead to the deaths of dozens of climbers. An interesting aspect of the ascent is that if the clouds disperse then it can be viewed from the small skiing community below. When the competition to find a route up to the top became frantic, around the 1930s, it took a decade before a safe climb was finally documented. Yet, it still claimed the lives of many more men looking for another route to the top. Why would people push themselves to the edge of death?



The main challengers were from Europe and there may have been a political aspect to see who came first but there perhaps there is something more abstract to it. There is a preoccupation for men to challenge and conquer, particularly if the odds are set against them. There is a real quixotic sense to the story. It is not about the kudos of being first; it is the romance and adventure. For some of these men, there is a glory in succeeding and even dying. It is similar to Scott’s polar expedition in 1912, even though their return proved fatal. The poetic and almost evangelical hope and then decline in Scott’s diary will preserve the lives of him and his men forever.

Nowadays, even younger people are climbing Everest and sailing around the world. In 2009, Swiss climber Ueli Steck scaled the Northern face of the Eiger in just two hours and twenty-one minutes. He was assisted by greater technology from weather forecasting to climbing equipment, not to mention the knowledge of previous ascents. It is very impressive and laudable but does it besmirch those who died in their attempts? I think some of the raw beauty and danger can be lost when attempts are run at speed but it certainly does not deflect on how formidable it is. Even climbers today require the physical and mental toughness to make it to the top. The souls of those who fell to their deaths do not dissipate at increasing successes; modern technology does not create better climbers it is part of the human journey to move to the next challenge. The Eiger will still haunt those lingering below on their way up.

The Victoria Cross: These are our heroes.

If one is to attend a job interview it seems quite likely that you may be asked who is your hero? Most people tend to stick to the obvious examples: Winston Churchill, Gandhi and Nelson Mandela. We hold all these men with great reverence and most people would agree with their inclusion. Why though do we ever feel a need to apotheosise ‘great’ men and women and what is the opinion of those labelled or often burdened with the tag. I ask this question because the word hero has been used several times recently. David Cameron described his late disabled father as a ‘huge hero figure’ and last week the MoD released the names of the men and women awarded medals for recent military contributions in Afghanistan.

People have always looked for leaders and inspiration in society, particularly in difficult times. Thomas Carlyle's now obsolete ‘Great Man Theory’ was a practical belief that certain individuals dictated the course of history and changed the interactions of society forever. Yet often it is not these great men (and women) that we look up to. It is the ones that teach and motivate us. They are our guardians in time of need and solace. They are the ones that confounded the odds and changed history for the better.


If one is to attend a job interview it seems quite likely that you may be asked who is your hero? Most people tend to stick to the obvious examples: Winston Churchill, Gandhi and Nelson Mandela. We hold all these men with great reverence and most people would agree with their inclusion. Why though do we ever feel a need to apotheosise ‘great’ men and women and what is the opinion of those labelled or often burdened with the tag. I ask this question because the word hero has been used several times recently. David Cameron described his late disabled father as a ‘huge hero figure’ and last week the MoD released the names of the men and women awarded medals for recent military contributions in Afghanistan.


Why though do people who are called heroes feel they need to disprove it? It is simply that these people were never looking for such titles or admiration. Their lives were never dictated for glory or decoration. The most venerated members of the British Army are those who have received the Victoria Cross, simply engraved with the words of ‘For Valour’, it is only awarded to those who perform the most brave of acts in the face of the enemy. Many say that when performing such acts, these soldiers face a 90% chance of dying; often with no regard for their own lives. Yet listening to their testimonies it is apparent that their ‘fame’ provides an unnecessary guilt. The medal becomes a chain around their own neck and hides the fate of their comrades. Perhaps it is just that without a medal you will remember all of them and not those who survived.

I remember watching the closing scenes of Clint Eastwood’s 2006 film Flags of Our Fathers and listening to the quote given by the veteran’s son. It seems very appropriate and is moving all the same:

“I finally came to the conclusion that he maybe he was right. Maybe there's no such thing as heroes. Maybe there are just people like my Dad. I finally came to understand why they were so uncomfortable being called heroes. Heroes are something we create, something we need. It's a way for us to understand what's almost incomprehensible, how people could sacrifice so much for us, but for my dad and these men, the risks they took, the wounds they suffered, they did that for their buddies. They may have fought for their country but they died for their friends. For the man in front, for the man beside him, and if we wish to truly honour these men we should remember them the way they really were, the way my dad remembered them.”

Heroes are a palpable way for us to realise our dreams. They are the inspiration in our somewhat prosaic lives. They score the goal that we dream to score. They challenge the injustices with desire and pugnacity that we could only hope for. They represent our aspirations and hold our safety net at the same time. They provide an answer to the meaning of our lives and a platform to progress. As corny as it may sound we all need our hero at some time in our lives.