To: stockman_scott who wrote (72149 ) 2/8/2005 2:32:34 AM From: geode00 Respond to of 89467 Polls apart from reality Jonathan Steele on how a government-organised press trip to cover the Iraqi elections descended into chaos Monday February 7, 2005 The Guardian The words of welcome by a senior army officer, delivered to a group of British journalists who had been brought to his desert base near Basra to cover the historic elections in Iraq, were remarkable for their honesty. "We are a guard force for this base, so in some ways we are the wrong people for you. I'm not sure why you were sent here. You won't be seeing any polling stations," Major Howard Long, of the Princess of Wales' Royal Regiment, told us. It was the moment of truth after days of mounting suspicion. We were clearly the black sheep in Downing Street's operation to ensure ample coverage of joyful Iraqis going to the polls a week ago. Tony Blair had been disappointed that no roses were showered on the troops who toppled Saddam Hussein in April 2003. The Iraqi election would be a second chance to get liberation-style pictures with huge enthusiastic crowds. Coming shortly before Blair himself went to the polls, it might finally crush public doubts about the war. So the word went out to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office and the Ministry of Defence to lay on a trip to help the British press overcome the hazards of working in Iraq. More than 60 journalists were invited, apparently too many for British troops to handle. Chaos and discrimination ensued. The Guardian had initially declined the trip but the FCO promised this was not the classic "embed", where journalists are attached to military units like limpets. "You will be embedded with the military in terms of support, and sleep with a unit in the area. But there will be a programme of events for you to meet Iraqis involved in the election," Nicole Veash of the FCO told me. The tipping point was her promise - "opt-outs for the day are possible." At a briefing for our group before we set off, Colonel Paul Brooke of the MoD confirmed the point. "It's embed and breakfast", he said, smiling. At our own risk we could do our own reporting and come back to base, provided the local commander agreed. The first contradiction appeared in a subsequent email from Squadron Leader Steve Rovery of the MoD news directorate. You could only "disembed" once and for all. There was nothing about opt-outs for a day. His email also contained a threat. There was no assured travel back with the RAF if we disembedded. He did not explain why a plane seat would disappear just because a confirmed passenger changed his ground arrangements. It did not sound like the collaboration in a danger zone which the trip was supposed to embody. On arrival at Basra airport, most of the party was content not to contemplate break-outs. Downing Street mainly wanted TV pictures and the BBC, ITN, Sky, and Channel 4 News were told they would go to the Hotel Shatt al-Arab in a fortified "green zone" in central Basra from which they would make protected daily forays. It was a good deal which was also given to the war-supporting Times. The other broadsheets were told they would go to the Shaiba logistics base in the desert. The first shadows of concern were appearing. Peter Beaumont of the Observer and James Astill of the Economist decided to test the "embed and breakfast" concept while the rest were taken to get election credentials. Using a trusted driver summoned from Baghdad, they drove into Basra for a day's reporting and were allowed back. Major Joe Carnegie, the Fourth Armoured Brigade's press officer, cleared me to do the same the next day. Working in Basra and sleeping in the safety of a base at night seemed an acceptable way of doing one's job - to which reasonable press officers with their talk of "embed and breakfast" could not object. Over the next 24 hours the trip went pear-shaped. Major Carnegie reversed the policy, saying short-term "disembeds" were off. Beaumont left for Basra next morning. I decided to test what was on offer at the Shaiba logistics base but Major Long's honest welcome said it all. Repeated phone calls to the FCO were met with apparent sympathy but no change. To its credit the British consulate invited dozens of candidates, student leaders, women's activists and local politicians to meet the media in its Basra compound over the next few days. But because our group was large, only a few could be helicoptered there each time. In the meantime the menu was desert patrols. By now the broadsheets were close to mutiny. The FT man wanted to leave, but was told by his London office that it was too risky. Le Monde, Agence France Presse and ARD German Radio got similar instructions from their editors. The Economist reporter was offered the chance to switch to Az Zubair, a mixed Sunni-Shia town, if he stayed on board. The other broadsheets gritted their teeth and remained at Shaiba. I told the MoD that our relationship was over. They were not letting me do my job. Kathy Ridge, their press officer, understood my dilemma and had the courtesy to withdraw Squadron Leader Rovery's threat. My return flight was guaranteed, she told me. The next afternoon, after being helicoptered to the consulate for the meeting with Iraqi politicos, I went to a hotel. It was a liberation. A dozen European and American journalists who had never been part of the MoD tour were staying there. The building was well-guarded. We fixed interviews and went around town in our separate cars, and on election day the Iraqs laid on a bus to visit polling stations. In fact we had the best election of any media group. The hacks in the desert gradually fared better. The consulate made sterling efforts to arrange more shuttles to Basra and a polling day tour. In Baghdad the big US networks were lent villas in the green zone but the print media struggled. Towards the end of the campaign the Americans laid on helicopter rides of varying use. In Tikrit the group never left the US base. On polling day in Baghdad the Iraqi police shot at a press car thinking the driver was a suicide bomber. This persuaded most reporters to walk, reducing the working perimeter to a few hundred yards from their hotels. For Downing Street that didn't matter. The TV images were enough, and without embedding they might not have appeared on screen at all.