" ... The military has got itself into a pickle in Iraq and been given a fright in Afghanistan. But there’s one thing the bods in uniform have done exceptionally well, and it’s the thing you’d imagine they’d be most hopeless at: media management. When was the last time you saw a mildly critical or even questioning story about the armed services? Now think back to the relentless press over Northern Ireland, the investigations into shoot-to-kill and military excess; and, if you’re old enough, remember the sceptical coverage of Aden, Malaya and Cyprus, not to mention the military idiocy and belligerence during the cold war. But something happened during the Balkans, and the camouflaged guys have managed to make-believe that they fight wars without any responsibility for them. The army has brilliantly cast itself only as victor or victim.
The arguments about the politics go on, despite the military. The reasons for this, of course, are access and danger: journalists have to be embedded, and for them to go to the front line in Afghanistan or Iraq without the protection of the military would be bonkers and, more important to most newspapers and television channels, far too expensive. Get too close to soldiers and you lose your even-handedness; you identify with them. So, military news on television is limited to shaky phone video taken by amateurs or junior reporters in flak jackets, paraphrasing military press releases from the roof of an international hotel, out of harm’s way. Then there are the reality shows that look at a regiment with an invariably adoring, sentimental eye; in truth, it’s difficult not to like soldiers when they’re on your side. Finally, there are the first-person diaries, such as Chris Terrill’s recent paean to the marines and Ross Kemp in Afghanistan (Monday, Sky One), about his trip there with his local East Anglian regiment, the Vikings, an unfortunate nickname.
Kemp has been one of the great surprises of popular documentaries. Who would have thought this soap actor would turn in the most watchable and exciting documentaries of the past year, winning a Bafta from a list of nominees that included David Attenborough? Dozens of actors try a bit of presenting, imagining it’s all eyes and teeth and hitting your mark. What makes Kemp so good on gangs, and soldiers, is the stuff the snobbish Soho Tristrams sneer at him for. He talks haltingly, his observations are broad-brush and not particularly cute, but he has masses of intense empathy and a dogged inquisitiveness that borders on bravery, and he says what most of us would say if we were there.
Aside from all the excitement of this well shot and edited film of Afghanistan, the bits that stood out were the conversations with ordinary soldiers and their families. They talk to Kemp in a way they don’t to professional reporters or documentary-makers because, I suppose, they know he’s like them, and they like him. There is nobody else doing what Kemp does. He’s not what executives look for when they want a bit of working-class rough diamond; he’s the wrong sort of stereotype, and all the better for it. We are still, though, desperately short on reporting from our nasty little wars, and the military is dead lucky that the other side are rubbish at media handling. Sawing the heads off journalists with bread knives isn’t the way to get a favourable feature in a magazine or an hour’s prewatershed reality show. ... "
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