One Shot in Ramallah
By Michael Penn MA'97
On March 31, as Boston Globe reporter Anthony Shadid '90 walked away from Yasser Arafat's compound in the besieged West Bank city of Ramallah, a bullet ripped through his shoulder, knocking him to the ground and triggering an international controversy about who shot him, and why.
Shadid, who joined the Globe's Washington bureau in 2001, has covered events in the Middle East and the Arab nations for several years and is the author of a book, Legacy of the Prophet: Despots, Democrats, and the New Politics of Islam. But he has never endured a more eventful time in his career than in recent months.
Two weeks after being shot, he traveled to UW-Madison to accept the School of Journalism and Mass Communication's Ralph O. Nafziger Award for early-career achievement and to share his experiences with students, faculty, and staff. Shortly thereafter, he carried on an e-mail conversation with On Wisconsin senior editor Michael Penn.
On March 31, as Boston Globe reporter Anthony Shadid '90 walked away from Yasser Arafat's compound in the besieged West Bank city of Ramallah, a bullet ripped through his shoulder, knocking him to the ground and triggering an international controversy about who shot him, and why.
Shadid, who joined the Globe's Washington bureau in 2001, has covered events in the Middle East and the Arab nations for several years and is the author of a book, Legacy of the Prophet: Despots, Democrats, and the New Politics of Islam. But he has never endured a more eventful time in his career than in recent months.
Two weeks after being shot, he traveled to UW-Madison to accept the School of Journalism and Mass Communication's Ralph O. Nafziger Award for early-career achievement and to share his experiences with students, faculty, and staff. Shortly thereafter, he carried on an e-mail conversation with On Wisconsin senior editor Michael Penn.
Probably the first thing on all of our minds is your health. How is your shoulder healing?
My shoulder's feeling much better. I went back to work the first week of May and, while it's still pretty sore, particularly on deadline, I'm able to do pretty much what I want to do. I'll probably end up losing some strength in my right shoulder, but I keep telling myself it could have been far worse.
Until recently, you hadn't really done much reporting on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict specifically. How did you end up in Ramallah?
I was a correspondent with the Associated Press in Cairo from 1995 to 1999, a period in which I traveled occasionally to Israel and the Palestinian territories to help out. So I had experience there, even though I hadn't traveled to Jerusalem since 1996. In general, it's a story you can't help become familiar with if you cover the Middle East, and I feel comfortable writing about it.
Since September, I've focused mainly on political Islam, the subject of a book I finished in 2000. But given the Globe's size, the pool of foreign reporters is relatively small, so we end up helping out on a wide range of stories. Since the attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon, I had traveled to Europe, the Arab world, and Afghanistan. Jerusalem was pretty much another assignment, one that was supposed to last just a few weeks. Once I was there, I basically followed the news, and the news quickly became Ramallah.
My shoulder's feeling much better. I went back to work the first week of May and, while it's still pretty sore, particularly on deadline, I'm able to do pretty much what I want to do. I'll probably end up losing some strength in my right shoulder, but I keep telling myself it could have been far worse.
Until recently, you hadn't really done much reporting on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict specifically. How did you end up in Ramallah?
I was a correspondent with the Associated Press in Cairo from 1995 to 1999, a period in which I traveled occasionally to Israel and the Palestinian territories to help out. So I had experience there, even though I hadn't traveled to Jerusalem since 1996. In general, it's a story you can't help become familiar with if you cover the Middle East, and I feel comfortable writing about it.
Since September, I've focused mainly on political Islam, the subject of a book I finished in 2000. But given the Globe's size, the pool of foreign reporters is relatively small, so we end up helping out on a wide range of stories. Since the attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon, I had traveled to Europe, the Arab world, and Afghanistan. Jerusalem was pretty much another assignment, one that was supposed to last just a few weeks. Once I was there, I basically followed the news, and the news quickly became Ramallah.
Tell us about March 31. What had you been doing before the shooting?
It was my third day in Ramallah. I had traveled there expecting an Israeli invasion after the suicide bombing at a Passover seder in Netanya, and we ended up pretty much getting stuck. While we couldn't leave, given the fighting going on, there was plenty of work to do, and that work was effectively around-the-clock.
On Sunday [the day of the shooting], I was reporting a story about the trouble Palestinian doctors and humanitarian workers were having in Ramallah. Israel suspected they were transporting fighters and that militants were hiding in hospitals, and there were repeated instances of Israeli soldiers firing on ambulances, detaining doctors, and searching hospitals. I had witnessed a particularly dramatic stand-off outside a hospital earlier in the day and was heading to the hotel to write the piece when I got shot.
You've said you didn't hear the shot before you fell down. What went through your mind as you realized you had been hit?
At first, I thought I was paralyzed and wondered if I was struck by a stun grenade. For two or three minutes, I couldn't feel my arms or legs, or move them. I got the feeling back in my arms first, reached behind my flak jacket, and felt the blood. The first few minutes were terrifying. I knew an ambulance couldn't reach us, so my first thought was, if I stay here, I'll probably bleed to death. Then I thought of my wife and daughter. After that, impulse pretty much took over, and we started walking.
It was my third day in Ramallah. I had traveled there expecting an Israeli invasion after the suicide bombing at a Passover seder in Netanya, and we ended up pretty much getting stuck. While we couldn't leave, given the fighting going on, there was plenty of work to do, and that work was effectively around-the-clock.
On Sunday [the day of the shooting], I was reporting a story about the trouble Palestinian doctors and humanitarian workers were having in Ramallah. Israel suspected they were transporting fighters and that militants were hiding in hospitals, and there were repeated instances of Israeli soldiers firing on ambulances, detaining doctors, and searching hospitals. I had witnessed a particularly dramatic stand-off outside a hospital earlier in the day and was heading to the hotel to write the piece when I got shot.
You've said you didn't hear the shot before you fell down. What went through your mind as you realized you had been hit?
At first, I thought I was paralyzed and wondered if I was struck by a stun grenade. For two or three minutes, I couldn't feel my arms or legs, or move them. I got the feeling back in my arms first, reached behind my flak jacket, and felt the blood. The first few minutes were terrifying. I knew an ambulance couldn't reach us, so my first thought was, if I stay here, I'll probably bleed to death. Then I thought of my wife and daughter. After that, impulse pretty much took over, and we started walking.
Where did you go?
My colleague led me — at times, effectively dragging me. After a while, I fell down, and we fumbled around in the street. Then we got up again and made it to an Israeli checkpoint. The soldiers came at us with guns, and my colleague shouted in Hebrew, "He's wounded." They demanded that we show them, and he turned me around to display my back, which was soaked in red at that point. An Israeli medic then responded with remarkable professionalism, giving me first aid and trying to stop the bleeding. Within a half-hour, a stretcher from the nearby Palestinian hospital arrived, and I was taken there.
It was a tumultuous twenty-four hours that followed. Israeli soldiers stormed the facility, looking for Palestinian suspects. I then had trouble getting out of town with my colleague. But a day later, I was taken to an Israeli hospital in Jerusalem, where I spent a week recovering.
My colleague led me — at times, effectively dragging me. After a while, I fell down, and we fumbled around in the street. Then we got up again and made it to an Israeli checkpoint. The soldiers came at us with guns, and my colleague shouted in Hebrew, "He's wounded." They demanded that we show them, and he turned me around to display my back, which was soaked in red at that point. An Israeli medic then responded with remarkable professionalism, giving me first aid and trying to stop the bleeding. Within a half-hour, a stretcher from the nearby Palestinian hospital arrived, and I was taken there.
It was a tumultuous twenty-four hours that followed. Israeli soldiers stormed the facility, looking for Palestinian suspects. I then had trouble getting out of town with my colleague. But a day later, I was taken to an Israeli hospital in Jerusalem, where I spent a week recovering.
Before you were shot — despite all that you knew about the violence in Ramallah — had you ever considered that you might be in danger?
I thought it was a precarious situation, but I didn't feel in danger. The first day, I stayed pretty much in the hotel, worried that it was too risky with all the firing. The second day, I got out a little more, but carefully and only with the permission of Israeli soldiers manning checkpoints. On the third day, I felt more comfortable. There was less fighting, and it was easier to walk around.
The irony is that I was shot when I felt safest. I was walking back to the hotel, I was laughing and, for the first time that weekend, I was at ease.
You believe the shooting was deliberate. Do you think you were targeted because you were a journalist?
I don't know the answer to that. I was clearly marked as a journalist, with "TV" taped on my back. I was walking in the middle of the street to avoid looking suspicious. And I was up-front at every checkpoint that I passed. It would have been hard to mistake me for a combatant. In the end, one shot was fired — in full daylight — and I was struck in the back.
I thought it was a precarious situation, but I didn't feel in danger. The first day, I stayed pretty much in the hotel, worried that it was too risky with all the firing. The second day, I got out a little more, but carefully and only with the permission of Israeli soldiers manning checkpoints. On the third day, I felt more comfortable. There was less fighting, and it was easier to walk around.
The irony is that I was shot when I felt safest. I was walking back to the hotel, I was laughing and, for the first time that weekend, I was at ease.
You believe the shooting was deliberate. Do you think you were targeted because you were a journalist?
I don't know the answer to that. I was clearly marked as a journalist, with "TV" taped on my back. I was walking in the middle of the street to avoid looking suspicious. And I was up-front at every checkpoint that I passed. It would have been hard to mistake me for a combatant. In the end, one shot was fired — in full daylight — and I was struck in the back.
Your newspaper filed a complaint with the Israeli Defense Forces, but the IDF maintains Israeli soldiers weren't involved. Their most recent statement suggests Palestinian fighters were responsible. As you've said, you didn't see the shooter. What makes you believe it was an Israeli soldier who shot you?
I was shot in an area that was under full and complete control of the Israeli military and had been for days. There was a tank behind me, an Israeli checkpoint ahead of me; snipers were everywhere, and Israeli soldiers had seized houses along the way. There was no army response to the shot being fired, and there was no attempt to find the shooter. I suspect if a Palestinian had got off a round — in that area and that time — the response would have been severe.
I have to add that I was by no means the only journalist targeted by the Israeli army over those few weeks, and the Committee to Protect Journalists, among others, has complained about the harassment.
I imagine the IDF might say that journalists are putting themselves in danger by entering off-limits areas.
The IDF has a point. The area was off-limits, though not to the reporters already there. At the same time, I think it's dangerous when journalists aren't on site. However limited, we do provide eyes and ears that wouldn't otherwise be there, sometimes the only ones. And it's difficult to overstate the importance of that.
I was shot in an area that was under full and complete control of the Israeli military and had been for days. There was a tank behind me, an Israeli checkpoint ahead of me; snipers were everywhere, and Israeli soldiers had seized houses along the way. There was no army response to the shot being fired, and there was no attempt to find the shooter. I suspect if a Palestinian had got off a round — in that area and that time — the response would have been severe.
I have to add that I was by no means the only journalist targeted by the Israeli army over those few weeks, and the Committee to Protect Journalists, among others, has complained about the harassment.
I imagine the IDF might say that journalists are putting themselves in danger by entering off-limits areas.
The IDF has a point. The area was off-limits, though not to the reporters already there. At the same time, I think it's dangerous when journalists aren't on site. However limited, we do provide eyes and ears that wouldn't otherwise be there, sometimes the only ones. And it's difficult to overstate the importance of that.
Did you find much compassion for the job you were trying to do?
I found people remarkably compassionate about the risks we took in covering the story. While authorities on any story are ambivalent or worse about extensive or hard-hitting reporting, I found readers expressing their admiration and appreciation for what it took to file on a daily or semi-daily basis.
Would it be possible to cover something like the situation in Ramallah without witnessing these events firsthand?
Although not impossible, I think it's extremely difficult to cover a story without being there. Ramallah is a good example. Covering it from Jerusalem would require almost total dependence on, one, the Israeli government account and, two, reports from residents reached by phone or e-mail. I think both were lacking, and in the end, the only way to determine that is to see it firsthand.
Would it be possible to cover something like the situation in Ramallah without witnessing these events firsthand?
Although not impossible, I think it's extremely difficult to cover a story without being there. Ramallah is a good example. Covering it from Jerusalem would require almost total dependence on, one, the Israeli government account and, two, reports from residents reached by phone or e-mail. I think both were lacking, and in the end, the only way to determine that is to see it firsthand.
Before you were shot, you were interviewing people about the boundaries of the conflict — about what was still considered out-of-bounds between these combatants. Do you now see yourself as an example of how little is off-limits in this battle?
I was told by friends that the conflict was far "dirtier" than it had been ever before, and I shared that assessment as I left. I think there's a certain degree of dehumanization that pervades the struggle, on both sides. It's a dehumanization that allows suicide bombings to claim innocent Israeli lives, and it's the dehumanization that allows the collective punishment inflicted by Israel's occupation. In Ramallah, much of that came together. I had gone there to cover Israel's response to a suicide bombing and the carnage it caused. Once there, I saw it played out — civilians killed, doctors arrested, hospitals invaded. My sense is that few red lines are left in this war.
With both sides so willing to cross those red lines, do you think they've been erased for good?
Is there any going back? That's a tough question. Like I said, I think the situation has deteriorated remarkably from even a year or two ago. Can it return to, say, the optimism after the Oslo Accords were signed? I don't know. Right now, I'm a little pessimistic. But the same thing might have been said after the 1973 Arab-Israeli war. And in that instance, the Camp David Accords between Egypt and Israel were signed five years later.
I was told by friends that the conflict was far "dirtier" than it had been ever before, and I shared that assessment as I left. I think there's a certain degree of dehumanization that pervades the struggle, on both sides. It's a dehumanization that allows suicide bombings to claim innocent Israeli lives, and it's the dehumanization that allows the collective punishment inflicted by Israel's occupation. In Ramallah, much of that came together. I had gone there to cover Israel's response to a suicide bombing and the carnage it caused. Once there, I saw it played out — civilians killed, doctors arrested, hospitals invaded. My sense is that few red lines are left in this war.
With both sides so willing to cross those red lines, do you think they've been erased for good?
Is there any going back? That's a tough question. Like I said, I think the situation has deteriorated remarkably from even a year or two ago. Can it return to, say, the optimism after the Oslo Accords were signed? I don't know. Right now, I'm a little pessimistic. But the same thing might have been said after the 1973 Arab-Israeli war. And in that instance, the Camp David Accords between Egypt and Israel were signed five years later.
Your interest in this conflict goes back to when you were a student, correct?
My desire to cover the Middle East was long-standing, even before I enrolled at UW-Madison. If anything, my time on campus bolstered that wish. I studied Arabic there, as well as journalism.
So — even back then — you imagined having the sort of career you have now?
While I obviously didn't plan to get shot, I was drawn to the story, both in Israel and the Palestinian territories, and in the Arab and Muslim world. It's a region that interests me, one whose stories have far-reaching repercussions beyond its borders. For a journalist, it's somewhat rare that you know the stories you write will automatically have resonance.
My desire to cover the Middle East was long-standing, even before I enrolled at UW-Madison. If anything, my time on campus bolstered that wish. I studied Arabic there, as well as journalism.
So — even back then — you imagined having the sort of career you have now?
While I obviously didn't plan to get shot, I was drawn to the story, both in Israel and the Palestinian territories, and in the Arab and Muslim world. It's a region that interests me, one whose stories have far-reaching repercussions beyond its borders. For a journalist, it's somewhat rare that you know the stories you write will automatically have resonance.
Is that what appeals to you about foreign reporting?
There's a sharp difference between reporting in Washington and abroad. Washington journalism is much more geared toward officialdom — the administration and the rest of the government and how policy is decided among those constituencies. Foreign reporting is far more subjective. You see and you interpret, and I find that far more enriching as a journalist. I think it's important, as well, to convey how the rest of the world thinks and responds to the United States. Journalists aren't always that successful in doing so, but it's a worthwhile objective.
You mentioned studying Arabic at UW-Madison. Has that been an important factor in your success as a reporter?
I've found language crucial in reporting in the region. There's an immediacy to interviews, and there's a context from hearing and understanding that adds texture to your stories. More importantly, language offers a window on the culture and society that would be difficult to get otherwise. Could you report well without Arabic? Probably. But the trust and the insight that come with speaking the language make the job easier and, often, richer.
There's a sharp difference between reporting in Washington and abroad. Washington journalism is much more geared toward officialdom — the administration and the rest of the government and how policy is decided among those constituencies. Foreign reporting is far more subjective. You see and you interpret, and I find that far more enriching as a journalist. I think it's important, as well, to convey how the rest of the world thinks and responds to the United States. Journalists aren't always that successful in doing so, but it's a worthwhile objective.
You mentioned studying Arabic at UW-Madison. Has that been an important factor in your success as a reporter?
I've found language crucial in reporting in the region. There's an immediacy to interviews, and there's a context from hearing and understanding that adds texture to your stories. More importantly, language offers a window on the culture and society that would be difficult to get otherwise. Could you report well without Arabic? Probably. But the trust and the insight that come with speaking the language make the job easier and, often, richer.
How do you think your time at UW-Madison helped shape your career?
When I was a student at Madison, it was a city with freewheeling journalism. There were the two student newspapers, the two city dailies, and a first-rate weekly. There was so much opportunity, especially for a nineteen-year-old with little or no experience. Madison itself — both the university and the city — had a well-deserved reputation for critical thinking, and I've tried to carry that into my work. Skepticism, particularly in Washington, can be lacking, and I've appreciated that contrarian atmosphere that Madison offered.
Obviously, the journalism school was impressed with you long before the events in Ramallah and would have been happy to mail you its award. Why, after all that you had been through, did you decide to come to Madison to receive it in person?
It's hard for me to overstate how important Madison was to the path I took for journalism. I learned how to be a reporter there, I grew up in Vilas Hall, and I came away with the skills, tools, and background that made journalism enjoyable. Plus, I still think my years at the Daily Cardinal were my best in journalism. It would be hard to turn down an invitation to show at least a little gratitude for all that.
Obviously, the journalism school was impressed with you long before the events in Ramallah and would have been happy to mail you its award. Why, after all that you had been through, did you decide to come to Madison to receive it in person?
It's hard for me to overstate how important Madison was to the path I took for journalism. I learned how to be a reporter there, I grew up in Vilas Hall, and I came away with the skills, tools, and background that made journalism enjoyable. Plus, I still think my years at the Daily Cardinal were my best in journalism. It would be hard to turn down an invitation to show at least a little gratitude for all that.
