Jerusalem and Babylon / In their shoes

I learned my most important lesson in soldiering from an old reservist named Katorza. A grizzled owner of a south Tel Aviv flophouse, Katorza was one of our company's senior sergeants, but on patrol he almost never sat in the front seat next to the driver, as was his undisputed privilege. He preferred to share the wind-swept and cramped space in back with the newcomers, raucously singing and telling stories about the lowlives he worked with.

One evening, while driving in an armored jeep through a small Palestinian village in central Samaria, Katorza gently admonished me: "Don't point your barrel outside toward the cars. How would you feel if you were driving along with your family and someone pointed a rifle at you?"

I was a callow 23-year-old, doing my first stint of active reserve duty, and after having been stationed during my regular IDF service in both Gaza and the West Bank in the early '90s, I saw myself as a veteran of the first intifada. I am ashamed to say that, before that moment, I had never considered the fact that while for me and most other Israeli Jews, the sight of an IDF soldier in uniform with a rifle at the ready offers comfort and security, it may be quite the opposite to a Palestinian.

Not that I had thought I was intimidating anyone; I simply believed I was assuming the correct, combat-ready position, as I'd been taught in basic training. I had totally failed to appreciate how this looked from the perspective of a Palestinian villager.

Katorza left the company long ago, but I still do reserve duty and his words ring in my ears every time I don a uniform and sign up for a greasy M-16. I was just starting out as a journalist at that time and, looking back, I like to think his advice has also served me well in my chosen profession.

Every journalist has his or her golden rule of the trade - but for me, the effort to try and put myself in the shoes of the players in a scene I am trying to describe, and still judge their actions fairly and objectively, reigns supreme.

I would not make the claim that I achieve this in every report, or that I do it very well, but I aspire to and believe that it's possible. I know that this process has changed me both as a writer and human being.

Bronner blog storm

I've been thinking about this a great deal since discovering the mini blog storm brewing in recent days regarding the New York Times' Jerusalem bureau chief Ethan Bronner. Apparently his son has joined the Israel Defense Forces and some pro-Palestinian bloggers believe this is proof that one of the world's most influential newspapers can no longer cover the Israel-Palestine conflict with any degree of objectivity.

Indeed, it serves to them as proof that Bronner and the Times were never objective in the first place. (Sometimes I wish the right-wing media bashers would take the trouble to read the screeds of their counterparts on the left, they may just get a slight feeling of deja vu.)

Now, I don't know whether what the bloggers are saying is true, I don't think I've ever met Bronner and have no idea of his family's connection to the country in which he currently works (yes dear, of course he's Jewish). But anyone who believes that having a son in the IDF is proof of biased journalism doesn't understand what good journalism is. Bronner, when contacted by some of the bloggers for a comment, referred them to his boss, the Times' foreign editor, who responded by saying: "Mr. Bronner's son is a young adult who makes his own decisions. At the Times, we have found Mr. Bronner's coverage to be scrupulously fair and we are confident that will continue to be the case."

I can't wait for a right-wing blogger to harrumph: "Bronner is obviously ashamed by his brave son." But I must admit I'm also slightly disappointed by this response.

While I of course respect Bronner's desire to shield his family from undue scrutiny, I wish his or his paper's response could have been something more along these lines: "Bronner Junior has indeed recently joined the IDF and we believe that Bronner Senior can only benefit as a journalist from his son's experience."

For better or worse, the IDF is a major player in this region. I'd certainly hope that Private Bronner's stories at the Shabbat dinner table (if such a thing exists in Chez Bronner) would enrich his father's reports, as I am sure they will a few months down the road if the by-then corporal gets sent with his unit to the West Bank.

How much better to learn of the injustices of the occupation up front, rather than have a source on the frontline.

Where careers are made

One blogger posed this question: What would the Times' reaction be if it was revealed that its redoubtable Gaza correspondent, Taghreed El-Khodary, had a son in the Al-Aqsa Martyrs' Brigades? I had the pleasure of spending four weeks with Taghreed during two seminars and am certain that if that were the case, her coverage would not be adversely affected.

Many correspondents representing major American and British news organizations in Israel are Jewish. This simply reflects the fact that they are some of the best reporters at their papers and Jerusalem is a coveted posting. It's where some of the most compelling stories are to be found, it's where careers are made. But because they are Jewish, they are vulnerable to poisonous criticism from either side, for pro-Israel bias and pro-Palestinian apologetics.

I certainly don't think that, as Jews, they should be more sympathetic toward the Jewish state. I do hope, though, that it helps them understand the story better.