You need to be the voice for those who can’t

Posted in Etiquetas: | en 1:16 PM

Let me start by saying that I love this place. It has been my home since I arrived here more than five years ago. Back then, I was on the way out of a failed path and this country offered me the chance to have a final go at it, and then make a career change. Now, I’m about to qualify after retraining and becoming a paramedic. And just when I am ready to give back to this country, it feels like Britain doesn’t want me anymore.

Like many other European citizens I am in a difficult position. I’m part of this society yet I have no vote. Not allowed to have a say on my future, neither a year ago nor now. I have no voice. But I am tied to this country by my partner. I am too foreign back at home to return there; yet still too foreign over here as well.

My position is further complicated due to my current student status. Like most European students, no one informed us that we needed to purchase private health insurance. And without that, it means that I can’t qualify for Permanent Residence. Despite having paid taxes and National Insurance contributions in the UK since 2012.

That comprehensive medical cover is, by the way, around £60 per month from a student’s pocket. The reasoning behind it is that if we don’t have medical insurance, in case we fall ill we would be a burden for the NHS. Don’t mind that every day I don a green NHS uniform and work as any other member of the ambulance service on 12 hour shifts. For free, because I don’t get paid; quite the contrary in fact, as I actually pay university fees. I am still a burden to the NHS.

Britons don’t seem to get it. Recently, a classmate asked a potential employer if they’d keep hiring foreigners going forward. This is common in a NHS full of foreign staff because Britain doesn’t have them. No one batted an eyelid, and I still wonder why she needed to ask that. But when immediately after her I asked if I’d be supported to apply for a visa, most of my classmates laughed. It was just “the annoying European at it again”.

I found that incredibly insensitive. The inability to apply for Permanent Residence means I’m having to ask future employers if they’ll support a hypothetical visa application in case I need one. Because chances are, if Brexit talks derail, I will. But that’s not their problem. And just like a year ago, they think they know better than the experts. “You’ll be fine mate, it’s not against you”. No, mate. It is against me and many others like me.

It’s not the only thing I have had to put up with. I’ve cleaned a man’s head injury while he ranted about Europeans stealing jobs. I’ve seen marks deducted in an oral exam for my accent –not my command of English, just my accent. I’ve heard colleagues ask for a blanket ban on immigrants, and to send them all back to where they came from, immediately after a terrorist attack –perpetrated by a Kent man. I’ve been told to speak in English when I was talking to a fellow countryman. And I’ve heard first hand stories of friends being abused on the street verbally, and even physically, just for being foreign. Or homebuyers being rejected mortgage applications due to the uncertainty of our future.

In this election I feel double threatened by the Tories. On one hand, they are the ones that got us Brexit, and even the Remainers among them, look like Trojan horses of the Leave campaign. On the other hand, they seem focused on a crusade to destroy the NHS, my future employer.

The NHS is under pressure. Partially because the public abuse it, but mostly because for the last two decades it has been neglected and sold off piece by piece to private hands. I fear what will happen after Brexit, when a trade deprived Britain negotiates a deal with Donald Trump. And I know the ambulance service will be one of the first ones to go.

Boris Johnson promised Britain £350 million a week for the NHS. Theresa May’s generous offer now is £8 billion over five years. That is a bit less than £31 million a week. Where is the rest? Yet they try to sell it as a huge investment, when in reality investment in real terms has decreased year after year with Jeremy Hunt as Health Secretary. I’m not sure the NHS can survive another five years of Tory government.

This may sound like that famous poem by Martin Niemöller. First they came for the Muslims. Then for the Europeans. Then for the Scots. Then for the NHS and Human Rights. They will go for the pensioners later. And no one will be able to do anything about it because no one will remain in Britain. The only way to stop it is now, by voting the Tories out.

But I can’t do it. So it is your job to do it.

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I am a journalist. That’s about to change.

Posted in Etiquetas: , , | en 12:09 PM

I am a journalist. It’s what I do, it’s what I am. Probably the most defining thing of who you are is what you do. In my case, that has been linked to several things in the past decade, all converging into journalism. That’s about to change.

It’s difficult to change course. Yet sometimes you feel you have reached a wall and you need to go the other way. That’s not only how I feel now but also how I’ve felt for the last couple of years. It is the reason why I am embarking into this new career as a paramedic.

It’s really recent in my memory but this August marks the 10th anniversary of the date I consider my baptism into journalism. Back in 2004, ten years ago, still in my second year in college, I was fed up with no getting responses from anyone to work, not even as an intern –apparently it was a requisite to be in the final two years of your studies. So I said “fuck this” and did the same that many journalists before me had done: pack my bags, grab my camera and head into somewhere newsworthy: Palestine.

From that trip, I brought back my first published story, lots of photos, a broken camera (I blame Ben Gurion guards) and many friends, stories and contacts. Later would come Bosnia, Iraq, Syria or Egypt. In between, in order to pay the bills I had to work on anything I could. I tried to keep it related to communications, so I wouldn’t miss the train: business intelligence, corporate communications, analyst, blogger, social media consultancy gigs…

But the truth is that the freelance lifestyle never took off. I blame myself. Maybe it’s that I’m not good enough. Or it could be something else. I am a disaster as a commercial agent, have zero selling skills and although I enjoy getting into, and telling the story, the whole process of selling it was extremely tiring. I’m useless at it. In a market dominated by freelancers, that’s bad.

It didn’t help being in an industry that pays barely livable fares per job and where some people even expect you to work for nothing. Exposure doesn’t pay the bills. Without a decent pay, journalism mutates from the most beautiful job in the world to the most beautiful hobby in the world.

Neither did help that I probably never recovered from the psychological hit that was having to witness as a mere TV spectator, from New Zealand, the Arab Spring. The Middle East had been my specialty since even before I started and in their most defining moment I was trapped in the other side of the world. It was a huge blow, a hard pill to swallow. Sat in my apartment of Auckland, I think, I missed the train completely.

Despite it, I didn’t despair. I was decided to find my place. I tried then London, which paid decent wages and there was work. But it didn’t work. Somehow, something was missing. The photocalls with famous people didn’t fulfill me.

I got into journalism with the idea of contributing to create a better world, like many others. But unlike them, I have kept that goal since then. The reality, however, is that I can’t do much. For all the stories of bad border crossings that I have, I also have stories of people thanking me for being there, thinking that my camera or my pen will awake minds in Brussels or Washington to stop a genocide or help them combat an invisible foe.

That’s bullshit. We really can’t do shit.

I might get an article published on the tragedy of the Kurds, or a picture of a kid in the rubble in Gaza on the front page, but even if it’s seen or read or heard it’ll be forgotten under the latest Kardashian appearance or Ronaldo’s volley goal in the last game. You and everyone else will read it and go on with your life. And that’s ok. I get it. Only that those in the news departments shouldn’t think like that, but they do.

And then it’s when people I followed or I had met started to fall. It wasn’t the first time that it had happened. But somehow this time, and thanks to the effect of social media, it punched closer to me. It was different than reading of the deaths of the reporters of the past. These guys had given me tips, we had shared a beer or we had run together for cover.

Jim’s death last week is just the last straw of two years of being in a really uncomfortable place, wishing for the happy ending of a kidnap of a colleague or lamenting the death of others. Could have it been me instead of Ricard or Jim or Azem had I stayed in the course I was on until 2011? More than 270 journalists have died in the last two years alone.

All that for nothing. People in general don’t care about such boring things as politics and the deaths of others far away. Although many people approached me after Jim’s death to express their condolences, there’s one friend that after asking me “Who is that Jim?” and me explaining him everything, he just said: “Oh, ok; weird stuff”. Even worse, after Jim’s death I have had to see not only some media trying to make it into a circus but also conspiracy theorists insulting the memory of someone they never met for the sake of their stupid cause.

All that made me rethink my priorities. A lot has changed since I started. I have changed too. When I walked between the rubble in Nablus and met Yasser Arafat in Ramallah back in 2004, I was enjoying the single life. Now I have a stable relationship with a wonderful woman with whom I talk constantly about our future together. I think with two people (or more) in mind now, not just me. Considering that, is it fair for me to risk my life for a misery of a salary in a job that has almost no real repercussions empowering people?

I probably could keep doing it if it paid well. Or if it wasn’t so risky. Or if it was worth it and really helped people. But journalism today doesn’t click any of those boxes. Even worse, I think journalism is dying as we know it. A few selected ones will prevail while most will be forced to find greener pastures in other jobs. And don’t get me wrong, there’s a plethora of excellent journos that will survive; but I’m not in that group. Still, I could keep trying if my personal circumstances were different. But my priorities have shifted now.

This is why I’m starting a new career and trying to become a paramedic. It still has the stress, long hours and risk of journalism, even some of the ingratitude and impotence against certain situations. But it’s worthy, you help people and you have an immediate effect on their life. Especially that fact, that you do change the life of someone, you can literally save them. It also lets me go back to my girlfriend and a hypothetical future family every day after the shift. And it has a better future while being decently paid.

Yet I know I’ll never be able to leave journalism completely behind. It’s just a big part of me. I’ll come back to this blog and the Facebook page from time to time. This is a bittersweet failure, one that has made me the man I am today and that has given me so much, but at the same time one that has also led me to this situation. I regard in high esteem and appreciation the colleagues I’ve met that keep doing a great job against all odds and I hope they continue to do the job they are doing. They’ll find a way to make it matter, I am sure of that.

I do know that this new life as a paramedic will probably be a better fit for me in my present and future situation. To the despair of my girlfriend, I don’t rule out going back into a conflict zone or disaster area when I graduate, but this time in a humanitarian role, closer to the stories of those I listened to for ten years and, this time yes, being able of helping them in a direct way.


It’s been a great ride. But it’s time to change.

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Free James Foley

Posted in Etiquetas: | en 11:53 AM


When you hear that a colleague has problems in a conflict zone a strange sensation invades you. It is that “It could have been me”. In my case, being in the process of withdrawing from journalism, it is a relief to think I won’t be in that place again. Neither me nor my loving ones, who in the end, are the ones that suffer most.

Photo Nicole Tung
That however doesn’t save you from getting goose bumps. The last colleague in the list is James Foley, kidnapped in Syria almost three months ago. It isn’t the first time he faces this problem. Back in Libya, Gaddafi troops captured him and two other journalists and retained them for six weeks.

The case of Foley is a bit more personal than others. Although I haven’t meet him outside Facebook, I admire his work and moral heights. Last summer, James coordinated together with Manu Brabo a campaign to donate an ambulance for a hospital in Aleppo, Syria. Before that, he fundraised money for the children of photographer Anton Hammerl, killed during the capture of Foley, Brabo and Gillis in Libya.

James was kidnapped in Thanksgiving day near Idlib, when he was heading for the border. Little more is known. Nor who did it, why they did it or where is James now. His family has tried desperately to find information about him and raise awareness in the media with no results so far. The website www.freejamesfoley.org has an online petition for the release of the American journalist.

The kidnap of James together with the death of two journalists in Syria just during January highlights the dangers journos face in conflict areas. It’s becoming more and more frequent to hear these news, with kidnappings becoming a quick way of getting foreign attention or money.

Although journalists know what they face when in a war zone, the situation has escalated quickly. New journos, poorly trained in safety or without experience, but eager to get a foot in the door make it more dangerous. In addition to that, the media has gone from being collateral casualties to legit targets, as demonstrated in Gaza and Syria. A situation that far from improving, it’s getting worse.

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About gun control

Posted in Etiquetas: , , | en 8:38 AM

After the last mass shooting in Newtown the debate about gun control has jumped to the frontpages again. And again, the people who never want to talk about it are saying that it is insensitive to talk now. “Too soon” they say.


The problem is that the shootings are pilling up. And just when the mourning period for the one in Portland was about to expire -and according to the NRA timeframes, it was ok to talk about it- Newtown came in.

As many people have pointed out, it is not that it is too soon to talk about it. In fact, it is too late. That should have been discussed before. One would think that after a Congresswoman was attacked, politicians -and the people- would have taken the matter more seriously. Nope.

Probably many people against gun control are afraid of the government taking the guns from their hands. But they need to understand, gun control doesn’t mean no guns, just a tighter and more controlled access to them and their use. And there are plenty of reasons to apply gun control.

A very common argument is that other factors like a deficient mental healthcare is to blame for mass shootings. Interestingly, many of the people who oppose gun control are closer to Republicans than to Democrats -not all- and they opposed as well Obamacare. Imagine what they would have to say about taxpayers’ money going into universal mental healthcare. Or into public schools so teachers and staff are more prepared to identify possible psychopaths.

It is not the only contradiction for Republicans. They resist the government control over gun ownership yet they insist in controlling communications, women’s bodies, gay marriages or immigrants. Selective freedom, it seems.

It is also interesting to note that while one isolated shoe bomber made widespread airport controls the norm, no matter how many mass shootings there are to convince people of the need for a debate on the issue.

Foreign examples of Switzerland and Israel are often cited as countries with lax gun control but both recently tightened the access to firearms. Australia long ago applied gun control and numbers talk for themselves. Japan's number of deaths are down to almost zero. 

The only other example of a country with permissive laws on the matter is Finland, who is the second -after the US- on mass shootings by civilians.

It is understandable the need for a militia -and therefore, the Second Amendment- in the post-independence America, but now it is just an anachronism. In my European mind it is impossible to conceive how citizens of the country with the biggest and most advanced army in the world feel so unsafe to be compelled to buy guns to defend themselves. Let alone, the need for semi-automatic weapons. 

 Furthermore, if no one but the ones who must maintain the law and order were allowed to carry guns, there wouldn’t be a need to carry a gun for self-defense.

“That wouldn’t stop someone who wants to harm of doing it” say as another excuse pro-guns lobbies. Well, I have to agree with that one. Nothing, not even the tightest laws, will stop a determined enough lunatic. But at least the damage, the chances for it to happen or the frequency of the attacks wouldn’t be so great.

Take a firearm away from a psycho and they will find another way to do harm. But probably it will be a less harmful one, like a knife. Or a frying pan. Just yesterday a guy with a knife assaulted a school in China, stabbing 22 children. All survived.

So, how many more shootings until someone acts? Hey, it is your country, not mine, but I'm worried for my American friends. They are too.




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The right to offend and be offended

Posted in Etiquetas: , , , | en 7:58 AM


The recent evolution of the case with Kate Middleton’s hospital prank has left me shocked. But not for the reasons everyone is, but for quite a different point of view.

For those who don’t know what I’m talking about, the story started when Kate Middleton -who is recently pregnant- was hospitalized due to acute morning sickness. A pair of Aussie DJs decided to play a prank and called the hospital impersonating the Queen to try to talk with the Duchess of Cambridge. A nurse answered the call and bought in but instead of passing them with Ms. Middleton, she just gave a report on the Duchess’ evolution. Outrage followed and two days later the nurse appeared death after apparently killing herself.

Now the public opinion, championed by the British media -and we are not talking only the tabloids- is asking for the head of the DJs, Scotland Yard wants to question them and everyone in Britain blame them on the death of the nurse.

Bullshit.

For starters, a suicide is more complex than all that and it would be stupid to blame it on only one reason for it. That one reason may have been the trigger, but it’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Moreover, the ones who snowballed the incident in the first place -British media and British public opinion- are the ones to blame. They created the social pressure on the poor nurse who was just a victim of an innocent -and not that much funny, but neither cruel- prank.

No one complained about this
It is not either that uncommon. No one seemed outraged when half of the world laughed at that poor Spanish woman who botched a master piece of art in a church. And they were vicious with her. It even reached the other side of the Atlantic and appeared on Conan O’Brien’s show.

Ideally, this prank should have made sound the alert on the bodyguard team of the Royals, who would have tightened the security around them. And that should be the real debate, why two simple radio DJs managed to reach a sensitive information provider so easily. Where was the secret service?

Instead, the same public opinion and newspapers that built up the social pressure that maybe triggered the suicide of the nurse, they now are building up more social pressure to get the two DJs fired. Who will be next?

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The nonsense of Israeli settlements

Posted in Etiquetas: , , , | en 6:36 PM


I consider myself quite fair and even minded. In the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians I think both sides are entitled to a certain degree of truth on their arguments. 

However, in the case of the settlements, for me is a no brainer: they are an obstacle towards peace or a two state solution -whatever comes first.

Some time ago I was talking about the conflict with an American Jew from in New Jersey. It was a nice, polite and civilized conversation with an educated woman. Towards the end, we started talking about the settlements; me against, she in favor.

When all the reasons for her positions were met by me with solid arguments against it based on international law and common sense, this educated woman had no option but to admit they were fair.

- So, why Israel keeps building them? -I asked.
- Because we can.

That completely got me off guard. Coming from an educated person, I insist, who had admitted the settlements were an obstacle for peace and against all common sense and international law was even more shocking.

Photo by: pinky_again/flickr
But that seems to summarize the position of the present Israeli government. They are doing it because they can. 

They have their backs safe with the support of the US and they are the regional superpower in military terms. And until that changes, no matter how many UN actions are taken. Israel will continue to occupy what they see as theirs by the right of God*.

*And this on itself could give us enough to talk for ages.

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How I met Istanbul

Posted in Etiquetas: , , , , , , | en 5:37 AM

When we learned that we should go by bus to Istanbul (8 hours from Salonika) we didn’t had a good feeling. Our last experience in a bus was in the Balkans, and it wasn’t exactly a pleasant one.

However, when we saw the bus waiting for us, it was a relief. Plenty of space, brand new, with AC, individual media stations, a guy passing every few minutes to give us water and snacks… And although it had no WC onboard, we were traveling with Barney Stinson. Or at least, his twin. Check it out yourselves here and here.

Then in Istanbul, the chaotic traffic that will travel with me for most of the trip around the Middle East started to show up. Lost in the bus station –itself a few kilometers outside of Istanbul-, Barney, two more Americans and I didn’t know exactly how to get to town. And everyone we asked for only repeated incessantly “Aksaray, Aksaray!” –another one to add to Alençon, Hollendretch and Doboj-. We later learned Aksaray was a neighborhood close to the city center.

In the end we took a taxi the five of us –the Americans and Barney thought we were going in two taxis…- to the city center and from there, we splitted up to our hostels. We would see again Barney the day after, just before he took a train to Sofia. Poor guy, skip Istanbul fro Sofia, such a dull city. He probably had a Bulgarian girl waiting for him.

As for Istanbul, I only can say it’s impressive. The Hagia Sofia and Topkapi Palace are the ones more famous, but for me the Blue Mosque is much better. The Basilica Cistern, an underground Ottoman cistern is also worth seeing. And the best of all, it was all free for being journalist.

Well, in the Harem of the Topkapi Palace I had a few problems. The guy behind the desk was rude, really rude. He didn’t want to understand me. I had to show him my Press Pass several times. I even showed him the Press Passport, where it’s explained in several languages (including Turkish) that I’m journalist. He refused to give me my ticket until a supervisor came and pushed him to do it. But as soon as he left, the guy started to swear in Turkish and he didn’t “give” me the ticket; he literally threw it to me instead with bad gestures and words.

The second day was a bit more relaxed. We bought presents for those back at home (basically, between David and I ended the existences of a little shop) and we sent home a parcel full of all the weight we didn’t want to carry around anymore. A sunset from the Galata Bridge allowed me to be for an hour between Asia and Europe (although it wasn’t between two Asian and European girls, as I would wish) and finally, being interviewed by students of journalism and political sciences ended the Istanbul tour.

It was time to say goodbye to Istanbul and David. He was flying home but I was staying and I had still a month ahead of travelling. The thrill was to come; the most exciting part was to come. It was calling at my door, and it was the day after. It was the time for a real taste on the Middle East.

It was time for Iraq.

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