Reporting for the International Press While Armenian, Part III

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Introduction

In Part I, we saw how demeaning the professionalism of journalists based on their ethnicity is rooted in myths about objectivity and racism. We also learned that having personal ties to a particular field can be a valuable resource. In Part II we examined the workings of the media machine and how it can harm the quality of information. In this article, I’d like to conclude these topics by focusing on potential solutions. High quality, ethical journalism is more important than ever at a time when disinformation is ubiquitous, and we witness unimaginable distress from all around the world, live on our phones.

What Are We Looking At?

On September 19, 2023, AFP alerts began buzzing around noon with the news: “Four police officers and two civilians killed in landmine blasts in Nagorno-Karabakh.” Regardless of the truth behind this information, it felt like a spark that could set all of Artsakh on fire. Soon, our fears were confirmed when we saw the footage of smoke, artillery blasts, and damaged civilian infrastructure in Stepanakert. No international news agencies were on the ground. Apart from a few local journalists who remained after nine months of blockade, all the documentation was being captured by civilians using their smartphones.

This is just one example from recent history where social media users prevented information blackouts. This ability to share information from inaccessible areas has transformed the way information is disseminated. While this kind of footage helps document crucial events, it also presents other issues. 

One such issue is the ethical dilemma of watching people document their own destruction on scrollable apps. A current example is the ongoing genocide in Gaza. Viewing the infliction of brutal violence on a population can be traumatic. Yet, it’s debatable whether witnessing this violence is necessary to understand the situation. The informational benefits are uncertain. But when faced with images of children crying in despair because they just lost their family, leg, or home, such images challenge widespread inaction in the face of this surreal horror. The atrocities we witness on social media often evokes visceral reactions from users, because we actually have no idea what we’re looking at. These images often lack context and explanation, making it difficult to process. But with the pace at which Gazan journalists are being killed and the deteriorating living conditions, how else would we hear these voices without amateur footage? How would we have known about the atrocities during the 2020  Artsakh war, the Azerbaijani incursions in Armenia in 2022? Would we have ever known about Iran’s mass protests?

These images should not be seen as journalistic items, but rather as cries for help. When Armenians tried to explain the genocidal nature of Azerbaijani policies in Artsakh, they were largely ignored by international media, except when Luis Moreno Ocampo, the first Chief Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, alerted the world to the risk of genocide by famine. However, after Azerbaijan’s attacks on September 19, the term “genocide” became a red line, inhibiting any nuanced explanation of what was happening. The term “ethnic cleansing” was more likely to be used had it been carefully defined beforehand. 

Alongside footage of destroyed buildings and days-long caravans of cars, photo montages began to appear on social media. These images juxtaposed the forced exile of the Artsakh population with archival images from the mass exodus caused by the 1915 genocide in the Ottoman Empire. The graphic similarities in these comparisons are striking and deeply moving. These diptychs perhaps served to make them more immortal; an attempt to combat forgetting and erasure. 

Ironically, it seems that the events of 1915 were better documented, as there were many international observers in the Ottoman Empire. In contrast, in Artsakh in 2023, the population was in complete isolation.  

The mistrust towards the media and institutions causes people to believe that they can only rely on themselves for their voices to be heard. While personal experiences have informational value, journalism should not be based solely on them. The mindset of “it is true because I’m experiencing it” has its limitations, as does the constant exposure to distressing imagery. This highlights that social media’s role is as potent as it is risky for information reliability, emphasizing the urgency for journalists to handle it more effectively. 

Combating Fake News 

Fact-checking departments have become commonplace in mainstream media newsrooms. While a few news organizations in Armenia have established fact-checking units or at least some guidelines, this doesn’t appear to be a widespread practice among local media. The 2020 war made the issue even more prevalent. The news therefore seem helpless in the face of the spread of terrifying footage and conspiracy theories on social networks. During the September 2023 attack on Artsakh, rumors of beheadings and rape spread while people were trapped in rural areas of Artsakh. Many of these stories were seemingly extracted from 2020 videos. The terror was enough; the crimes didn’t need to happen twice. Without any independent team on the ground as the events were developing, there will never be proper reporting on this. More recently, Facebook groups created by Nikol Pashinyan’s ruling party framed the anti-government protests as fully Russia-orchestrated. 

The propagation of fake news and manipulation of information have become universal problems, especially since the COVID-19 pandemic. But, civilians aren’t the only ones who share it, as some media outlets considered to be legitimate are guilty too. When these outlets primarily get their audience from social media, they adopt its fast pace and short formats, which can lead to significant errors. For instance, a recent post on 301Arm stated, “Large number of military vehicles spotted in Yerevan ahead of ‘Tavush for the homeland protest.” Anyone on the ground could see the capital letters on the side of the truck saying VOSKEPAR (police). The video’s angle avoids the markings. This misleading title suggested that the government was potentially deploying the army against peaceful protestors. This is an example of emotional and editorial mismanagement when using social media as a primary platform, which can lead to even more distrust towards the media. 

We’re in a cycle where people, distrusting mainstream media, turn to alternative information sources such as social media where fake news is rampant. Comprehensive fact-checking is crucial, but it can be ineffective unless it’s coupled with governmental decisions to incorporate media literacy and information verification in educational policy. Just as we teach kids how to read and count, why not also teach them to distinguish reliable information from fake news and how to conduct good research? Media fact-checking can make people more vigilant about determining what’s real and what’s not. It enables the audience to reclaim this issue. But it’s a fruitless endeavor if civil society lacks the tools to fact-check in response. As far as I know, no country has universally implemented such education. Rayya Roumanos, co-director of the Journalism Institute of Bordeaux and a researcher in information and communication science, suggests that given the infinite amount of fake news online, fact-checking is “like emptying the ocean with a teaspoon. A lot of resources are invested into fact-checking departments. Wouldn’t it make more sense to produce concrete, reliable information instead of spending time saying this is true, and this is false?”

Roumanos highlights the collaboration between civilians and newsrooms noting that, “Open source journalism leads to investigations made in collaboration with citizens. Underground journalism has produced many noteworthy co-authored pieces.” It is becoming increasingly common for journalists to be absent from the scene. For instance, no journalist was present at George Floyd’s murder; the only video sources were from amateur footage and surveillance cameras. Similarly, during the U.S. Capitol attack, only the assailants filmed the scene. “Citizens can produce information, but they do so without guarantees, a framework, or ethical guidelines. It’s great that citizens are speaking out to tell their stories! Now we need to train journalists globally to receive and analyze these productions,” she explains. This can only happen with a structured, respectful and efficient collaboration between civilians and journalists. 

New Models, New Solidarities?

Mainstream media is no longer the sole source of information, allowing independent media to thrive on the Internet. Economically fragile, these frameworks imply natural solidarity between audiences and news producers. This solidarity can take forms such as donations or active participation in discussions, which can foster trust. Independent media also have the advantage of not being as limited as mainstream ones by the very short duration of their programs and articles. By sharing longer content, information is more likely to be complete and nuanced. 

Supporting independent media online can influence mainstream media due to a mimetic approach. If an online format proves successful, traditional media may adapt and incorporate this model with their own spin. This influence was tangible with the increase of media coverage regarding police brutality. Initially, independent media largely reported these incidents. However, as mainstream news noticed the audience’s interest in these topics, they began to report more on them. Despite this, not all alternative media sources are reliable, as evidenced by the instances of fake news. 

Rethinking the traditional top-down structure could be a first step toward reconciling journalists with the public. Co-creating media is an entirely separate process. Mainstream media could begin by dedicating a separate department to this, similar to The Observers at France 24. This show is produced using civilian photos, videos and personal accounts from their “observers” around the world, verified by staff in Paris. 

One challenge of this model is ensuring the journalists involved do not dominate the partnership; it needs to be a co-production between equal partners. Establishing such dialogue and trust might not fit the rapid pace of 24/7 news, but that shows the value of having people on the ground. This brings us to an essential and often overlooked aspect: the need for international solidarity with local journalists. 

The Value of Local Journalists

“The only way to break silence is to build a network. In the media, you need connections, and local journalists are lost,” says Siranush Sargsyan, who became a journalist almost accidentally. “After 2021, when no one could enter Artsakh, our isolation was terrible. I felt we needed to be heard,” Sargsyan explains. This need became crucial during the nine-month blockade that started in December 2022. Despite the apparent disinterest of international news, only a few journalists like Sargsyan, Marut Vanyan, Siranush Adamyan, and Hayk Ghazaryan, continued reporting from the area. Sargsyan says that without the right access and contacts, attracting the interest of big international outlets can be difficult unless the area is in an active state of war. Thus, all of a sudden, newsrooms became very interested in Sargsyan’s reporting on September 19. They even asked her to send voice messages and take photos for an article because the power cuts prevented her from writing. 

To say there is a shortage of staffed journalists in international media aiding local journalists is an understatement. “Most media outlets use you for their stories, treating you like you’re [news] material,” Sargsyan says. This lack of solidarity is partially driven by egos and careerism. Fortunately, some professionals prioritize the significance of information over personal gain. Siranush recounts how Swedish journalist Rasmus Canbäck assisted her in publishing a story about women sappers in Artsakh. This article provided a counter-narrative to the dominant Azerbaijani reports on the mining situation in Artsakh, within Sweden. 

A program led by AGBU Madrid, in collaboration with freelance international reporters Karlos Zurutuza, Andoni Lubaki, and Jewan Abdi aims to address this issue. For the past three years, they have conducted a one-week training in Goris, teaching both professional and aspiring journalists how to reach international audiences with stories from Armenia and Artsakh. Sargsyan, who participated in 2021, said it motivated her to believe she could do it: “I was already writing, but I couldn’t imagine that I would reach international media. Local journalists need more resources.” 

Other organizations, such as The Armenian Project and Media Initiatives Center, are also working to address Armenia’s communication challenges. Young local talents need more guidance and support to bring local issues to the world, especially as Armenia’s security is far from guaranteed. However, these organizations cannot do it without a strong state policy that supports quality journalism schools, training programs, and PR efforts.

Karlos Zurutuza emphasizes to his students that journalism isn’t about “helping your country,” as many motivated Armenian journalists want. Rather, journalism involves presenting facts objectively to inform an audience often unfamiliar with the region. Siranush Sargsyan counters this perspective: “It’s a luxury to feel that you’re ‘just a journalist’ when you’re from a place that has so much at stake. Sometimes I’d rather be a good person than a good journalist.” She once wrote a story about Hasmik, a mother who lost her son, a professional dancer, in the 2020 war. As a seamstress, Hasmik continued to tailor costumes after his death, preserving a connection with her lost son. Tears appear in Sargsyan’s eyes as she shares this story, which was published on Mother’s Day. She visited Hasmik that day, gifted her a better sewing machine, and showed her the article. Upon reading it Hasmik said: “I felt like my son was talking to me.” 

Some might argue that this wasn’t an ethical decision. To me, it demonstrates her choice of humanity over convenience. Perhaps that’s what journalism is missing today. Prioritizing our sensitivity in our work could be a straightforward approach to rebuild the trust of those we write about. We should not be ruled by our sensitivities, but rather use them to uphold higher moral standards, inevitably leading to better content.

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