The following is bits and pieces of an article that was found in Anna Politkovskaya’s computer after her death and is addressed to readers abroad. Politkovskaya was an investigative journalist in Russia that was shot and killed at point blank range in the elevator of her apartment building. It is from the book, “Is Journalism Worth Dying For: Final Dispatches.” I read the book on a flight from Los Angeles to London and decided to include here this excerpt, because her passion and determination inspire me more than I can explain on a Tumblr post.

via peacekids.net

What Am I Guilty Of?

“Koverny,” a Russian clown whose job in the olden days was to keep the audience laughing while the circus arena was changed between acts. If he failed to make them laugh, the ladies and gentlemen booed him and the management sacked him.

Almost the entire present generation of Russian journalists, and those sections of the mass media which have survived to date, are clowns of this kind, a Big Top of kovernys who job is to keep the public entertained and, if they do write about anything serious, then merely to tell everyone how wonderful the Pyramid of Power is in all its manifestations.

Journalists and television presenters have taken enthusiastically to their new role in the Big Top. The battle for the right to convey impartial information, rather than act as servants of the Presidential Administration, is already a thing of the past. An atmosphere of intellectual and moral stagnation prevails in the profession to which I too belong, and it has to be said that most of my fellow journalists are not greatly troubled by this reversion from journalism to propagandising on behalf of the powers that be. They openly admit that they are fed information about enemies by members of the Presidential Administration, and are told what to cover and what to steer clear of.

What happens to journalists who don’t want to perform in the Big Top? They become pariahs. I am not exaggerating.

I loathe the current ideology which divides people into those who are “on side,” “not on side,” or even “on the wrong side.” If a journalist is on side, she or he will receive awards and honors, and perhaps be invited to become a Deputy in the Duma. Invited, mind, not elected.

Today a journalist who is not on side is an outcast. I have never sought my present pariah status and it makes me feel like a beached dolphin. I am no political infighter.

I will not go into the other joys of the path I have chosen: the poisoning, the arrests, the menacing by email and over the Internet, the telephoned death threats. The main thing is to get on with my job, to describe the life I see, to receive visitors every day in our newspaper’s offices who have nowhere else to bring their troubles, because the Kremlin finds their stories off-message. The only place they can be aired is in our newspaper, Novaya gazeta.

What am I guilty of? I have merely reported what I witnessed, nothing but the truth.
”
- Anna Politkovskaya, Is Journalism Worth Dying For?

In London and feeling slightly antsy. I’ve been here enough times that I don’t feel completely like a tourist, but not enough to say I’ve seen everything. I don’t have enough time to work on a story – which I always have an eye out for and of which there are plenty in this city.

So I have to sit back and enjoy it all, which is difficult because I can’t sit still.

It’s very interesting to think of how this year has ended up so unpredictably. A year ago, I knew where I was going, who I was seeing, what freeway I was taking, which cube I was sitting in. This year, my plans only have skeletal structures, only gaining some meat and other vital organs on a day to day basis – a risk and adventure depending on which way you look at it. But this is what I’ve chosen as a writer, as a journalist, this is what being in this business in the current atmosphere demands from you – initiative, passion, ambition, experience – you can’t wait for the assignments and staff positions to come to you. I suppose it has more or less always been this way since the beginning in some sense.

As long as I can observe, interview, record, write, edit and interact, I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

So here’s to more adventures for the second half of 2011.

A few snapshots from my iPhone in the last six months from a few corners of Los Angeles:

Egyptian Diaspora protests in front of the Federal Building in support of the Egyptian Revolution.

Iconic religious statues from India’s Sweets and Spices in Los Feliz.

La Morena, sliced green pickled jalapeños, Ralphs, Hollywood.

French macarons at a Koreatown mall, Koreatown.

Za’atar, Middle Eastern spice mixture and Armenian coffee, Shanto’s Bakery, La Crescenta.

Chrysanthemum Tea Drink, Sapp Coffee Shop, Thai Town.

Yerevan, Armenia t-shirt from Ara the Rat.

Left over Cinco de Mayor balloons from Mexico City restaurant, Los Feliz.

Matrioshka Russian Vodka.

Iran Air sticker, the country’s official airline.

I picked up a Moscow Times paper on my way for a 6 hour stop in Sheremetyevo International Airport in Moscow in December and read an article titled “Guns Aimed at Journalists Are Aimed At Us All” by Nadezhda Azhgikhina not realizing what a long lasting impression it would have on me. That thin print edition survived a week in Armenia in my luggage, another eight hour stop in Moscow and a very long plane ride back home to Los Angeles, all for the sake of an article that very eloquently explained the tragic situation for the intrepid journalists of Russia.

I occasionally go back to it and re-read it. A few weeks ago, I spotted “Is Journalism Worth Dying For,” by Anna Politkovskaya, a journalist that was shot at point blank range and murdered in 2006. Politkovskaya worked for the famous Novaya Gazeta paper, who has seen five of its journalists murdered in the last 10 years. I’m very much looking forward to devouring this book.

Today, a link on my Twitter feed appeared from the Center of Investigative Reporting in California about how many journalism students in the Russia are turning to entertainment journalism in an effort to not get killed.

This was documented in a 25 minute series called “Killing the Messenger” which I urge you to watch if journalism interests you. There’s also a segment highlighting Novaya Gazeta. Journalist Elena Milashina, who Politkovskaya took under her wing when she was there is featured. She recently wrote an essay in the Wall Street Journal – “The High Price of Journalism in Putin’s Russia.”

“I am exhausted from the funerals, and I am frightened for my friends, my colleagues and myself,” she wrote. “This horrifying chain of murders will not be broken until the perpetrators-those who pulled the trigger and especially those behind the killings-are brought to justice. And we can hardly hope for a proper investigation while Vladimir Putin holds the reins of power.”

See “Killing the Messenger” below:

Over the years, I’ve noticed my shopping habits come in big spurts, as in, I can go a while without buying any clothes or shoes but when it rains, it pours. I’ve sold and dropped off around 13 bags of clothes in the last few weeks, as I get ready to embark on an extended overseas trip, so I took it upon myself to indulge in a bit of retail therapy today.

While I was store hopping from Anthropologie and H&M, I realized I was looking specifically for clothes that would help me feel as comfortable as possible while reporting. In between those awkward moments as a journalist speaking to strangers, I need to move fast, carry a phone, a digital recorder, pens and paper, as well as look presentable.

We’ve all seen the terrible hair and outfits the talking heads of television succumb to, but I began to wonder about journalists and their fashion choices. There isn’t much on the online about the fashion of journalism or what journalists wear, but historically, my favorites include Ernest Hemingway and Oriana Fallaci’s fashion choices, two good examples of journalist chic:

Fallaci was an Italian journalist who had a long and rewarding career, interviewing Kissinger and Khomeini, among others. She received criticism for her statements on Islam in a series of books and articles she wrote in a post 9/11 world. Her style was pretty impeccable:

I made two sets of outfits on ShopStyle.com that I would probably consider my “journalism fashion.” As long as I have a good jacket, sturdy shoes and a big bag, I’m good to go. Doesn’t hurt to have minimal jewelry either. I’m not a fan of big, dangly earrings, so the least I can get away with and still add a feminine touch is fine by me.

Journalists are a varied bunch, so I’m sure everyone’s definition of their reporting outfits are different, but I think one thing they get regularly accused of is not being stylish, a pretty unfair statement considering the examples above.

Blazers at YOOX
Totes by Ralph Lauren

Blazers by Miu Miu
Boots by Dr. Martens

Big Bear Lake, Calif.

I’ve been exploring Southern California for the last few weeks, taking a few short trips here and there on the weekends, trying to branch out to see my surroundings before I leave for at least a few months for the other side of the world.

First it was Santa Barbara and Solvang, that quirky little Dutch town that seemed much more fun when I was 12 years old. Then it was Big Bear Lake, where I got  overcharged $125 for mandatory snow chains, paid someone $30 to put them on, drove into a snow ditch and almost got stuck and then couldn’t get the chains off.  Despite all that, it was lovely and as snowy as ever.

A few days ago, it was Joshua Tree National Park, made famous by the U2 album of the same name. I didn’t realize at the time that everyone was driving up there to partake in Coachella, that music festival I can assure you I have never been to, and never will. Being in the dry desert after snowy hills made me aware of how much diversity there is in the state. It’s pretty interesting to think that snow and sand are just a few hours away from each other.

Joshua Tree National Park, Calif.

It snowed in Los Angeles. I went mad. I took photos, video. I tweeted. I facebooked. I even made it to LA Weekly. It was beautiful. I’m sure my East coast friends and acquaintances are laughing at me, remembering the endless hours they’ve spent digging their car out of this white stuff, while wondering if their fingers would fall off from the cold. This is wuss snow. I know. Some might even call it hail, but I don’t care. It snowed in Los Angeles and I have proof.

Here’s some video as well. The last time this happened, it was 2007. Please come again soon, snow.

All photos taken in La Crescenta/ © Liana Aghajanian

A glimpse of my pale hand and recorder with Jack Kevorkian

Last Saturday,  the famous, or perhaps infamous Dr. Jack Kevorkian was scheduled to speak at UCLA’s Royce Hall in front of a sold out audience. The night was coordinated by UCLA’s Armenian Student Association and the Armenian American Medical Society and was the first time that “Dr. Death” made an appearance for Armenian fans, many of whom lined up anxiously outside the hall waiting for him. I was invited to cover the event, which lasted around two hours and as people piled out, a journalistic switch went off in my head and I darted for the stage.  After haggling with security who wouldn’t let me near him, I flagged down his attorney, gave him my card, then somehow got access backstage to an impromptu press conference. Once there, I got a chance to ask Dr. Kevorkian two questions. Alongside a line of television crews, I was left in a euphoric state after he gave the longest and most thoughtful answers to me.

While I’ve down played the details of this encounter and the events that came before so that I don’t sound like completely like a baffling buffoon, it was definitely an exciting night.  Every single time I go out to file a report, it makes me realize why I decided to become a journalist in the first place. There is nothing better than that rush that propels you forward, that moment that you’re sweating head to toe but you don’t care because something, some greater force that you can’t control or explain is making your legs move or your voice heard at the spur of the moment – completely unplanned.

You don’t think, you don’t analyze, you don’t ask for someone’s opinion, or wait around to see what happens. Fear or anxiety are nowhere to be found. You charge forward and you just do. That is what journalism is all about and that’s why there’s nothing else in this world that could make me as happy as it does.

In case you’d like to read an account of the night:

Jack Kevorkian Connects with Armenian Fans at Sold Out Show

President Obama gave his 2011 State of the Union speech tonight and while he covered a lot of ground, from health care to education to the elimination of “Don’t ask, don’t tell,” all of which pundits across the country are analyzing as I type this, I was really intrigued by the White House’s use of graphics that was used in the live streaming of the hour long broadcast.

"The future is not a gift. It is an achievement - Robert Kennedy"

I like watching the online version because it tends to cut out all the clutter that television news broadcasts add to it, but the graphics, which included photography as well, were frankly pretty well done and added great context to what Obama was saying.

"President Obama at an alternative energy research lab at Massachusetts Institute of Technology"

Just yesterday, the White House Blog published a post about the enhanced version of the State of the Union, in a post titled “You’ve Never Seen a State of the Union Address Like This Before.”

“This “Enhanced SOTU” feature is just one of many ways we are working to provide as much information as possible and answer your questions about the speech,” wrote the White House Director of New Media Macon Phillips.

It’s no secret that this presidency has utilized social and new media in unforeseen ways, even before Obama arrived at the White House, so this feature isn’t unexpected perhaps, but it was nice to see the integration of understated graphics that enhanced the speech, instead of taking away from it, a feat that some news broadcasts still haven’t managed to do. The example that comes to mind is CNN’s use of over complicated graphics that seem to confuse me more than anything else – see: “CNN’s ‘Electric Matirx’ projected as loser in tv technology race.”

NPR, who asked listeners to describe the speech in three words, also had something cool to offer: a word cloud of people’s impressions of the State of the Union.

President Obama at General Motors Auto Plant in Hamernick, Michigan

Burak Kara/Getty Images

Hrant Dink was murdered the year I graduated. Shot at point blank range in Istanbul by a young nationalist because he was a journalist who was interested in progress and changing the system. I didn’t know him personally and only learned about him months before he was killed, but I felt as if I had lost one of my own, and I had.

Dink, his work, his views and everything he stood for has had a profound impact on me over the years. His courage and unfaltering determination, his ability to look at things from all perspectives, his strength to stand up, often alone, for something – it’s all given me the courage to keep pushing forward. He is someone I draw strength from, someone who has continually been an inspiration in my own writing, someone I am proud of to have shared a culture and a profession with.

And yet the image of Mr. Dink, face down on the street, covered by a white blanket, with the soles of his shoes upright gives me chills. This is not how I want to remember him. Why do we do this to the people who care the most about humanity? A journalist murdered by a misguided youth – that’s not the way Mr. Dink should have gone.

Remembering him isn’t enough. If he is to be honored, there needs to be progress, or else we’ve failed.

Four years later, not much has changed, but here’s to hoping that it might.

“I challenge the accepted version of history because I do not write about things in black and white. People here are used to black and white; that’s why they are astonished that there are other shades, too.” – H.D

A few links to what I’ve written about him are below:

Bridges Hrant Dink Built: A Conversation with Jirair Libaridian

Then, Now and Later: The Legacy of Hrant Dink

A few links to recent must read articles about him:

Mouardian: No One is Hrant Dink: 96 Years of Solitude, and 4 Years of the Same

1915 and the Unsolved Murder of Hrant Dink

In Memoriam: I Fear Hrant Dink’s Name is Becoming a Trademark