(no audio) (no audio) (no audio) (no audio) - The last 25 years have produced plenty of international conflict.

The seasoned community of journalists who've moved towards the sound of fighting.

Today's guest documents the personal costs of those reporters, producers, photographers, and videographers who had documented the worst of humanity, have paid a price with their physical and emotional health.

He's Sean Carberry.

This week on "Story in the Public Square".

(upbeat music) (music continues) (music continues) Hello and welcome to "Story in the Public Square", where storytelling meets public affairs.

I'm Jim Ludes from the Pell Center at Salve Regina University.

- And I'm G Wayne Miller, also with Salve's Pell Center.

- And our guest this week is a voice you might remember from broadcasts on National Public Radio where he served as correspondent in Kabul, Afghanistan.

Now Sean Carberry is the managing editor at "National Defense" and the author of a powerful new memoir, "Passport Stamps, Searching the World for a War to Call Home".

He joins us today from Washington DC.

Sean, thank you for being with us.

- Great to be with you guys.

- You know, the book is a remarkable telling of your time as an international correspondent, including a lot of the ugly places that you visited and a lot of the wars that you had firsthand experience with.

Could you give us just a quick overview about the book and why you wrote it?

- Sure.

So as you noted, it is a memoir of my time doing essentially conflict journalism, working in places from Sudan, Serbia, Kosovo to Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, Yemen.

Much of that time I was essentially what you'd call a parachuter.

I was based in DC and would travel to some of these places for periods of time to do reporting.

And then spent 2.5 years as the last Kabul-based correspondent for NPR from 2012 to 2014.

And in terms of why I wrote it, this is one of those things that, you know, obviously a lot of war correspondents end up writing books of some kind or another.

And certainly during the time I was doing this work, I had friends and family saying, "Wow, you're going to these amazing places.

I'd love to read a book about all the things that happened behind the scenes of the stories that we saw or read."

And so that was always in the back of my mind.

And when I came back from Afghanistan at the end of 2014, I just wasn't in a headspace to sit down and write that book at that time.

And so it kinda sent it back finally in 2020 during COVID and during a period where I wasn't thrilled with my job and the direction of things.

I decided that was the time to step aside and sit down and write the book.

And because of writing it years after doing the work, it allowed me, you know, the time to reflect and made the book more a reflection, a lot more about sort of my headspace and motivations rather than just sort of the chronicling of the action.

And I think that was something that, when I sat and thought about how am I gonna make my book different than all the other memoirs that have been written by other correspondents, I said, "Well, I'm gonna peel back the curtain.

I'm really gonna take people inside my head, the good, the bad, the ugly, and really take people on that journey."

And so that's what I dove into.

- Yeah, we're gonna hit some of those stops on that journey.

But there was a passage that really caught my attention.

You talked about growing up the grandson of a man who had served in the US Navy in World War II.

And he would tell stories, but they weren't the stories you really wanted to hear.

They weren't the true stories I think is the way you characterized it.

And you compared your experience as a war correspondent to his experience having served in the war.

And noted the difference, though, was that you were paid to tell stories, but you said you didn't tell anyone what you were feeling.

You chronicled the events you saw, but you didn't give us that insight into what you were feeling.

In this book you do.

How difficult was it to write that?

- Not as difficult as I thought it was gonna be.

Partly because at the time I sat down to write it, I had enough distance from things.

And I think I was at a point where I needed to go back and process a lot of things and understand that impact that you described.

I mean, how, you know, my grandfather never wanted to dig in and tell the stories and wouldn't share with family.

And, you know, that was frustrating to me growing up.

But as I started to have experiences in places and see things and experience things that people shouldn't see and experience, I realized that that was kind of creating that similar isolation that a lot of veterans feel when they come back and don't want to bring people into some of the dark places that they experienced.

So when I sat down and started going back through there, there were some things that definitely, some moments that I paused when I was getting ready to write and relive.

And some things, though, that by doing it, it did become certainly therapeutic and helped me to understand why I was thinking, feeling, doing some of the things I was during those moments or after those moments.

So it certainly became, you know, a part of my healing and therapy and awareness about how this work really did affect me, and it affects everyone who does this kind of work.

- So, Sean, talk about motivation.

Where's the impulse, if that's the right word, come from to go to dangerous places to report?

I mean, this has been your career.

Where does, you've thought about that, I'm sure.

Where does it come from?

When did it begin?

- Yeah, it certainly didn't begin when I was in high school or college or when I was younger, contemplating what my life was gonna look like.

I ended up in journalism as a little bit of a career segue from working in the music industry in Boston, and got a job at one of the NPR stations in Boston.

And that was shortly before 9-11 happened.

And so, you know, sort of cliche as it might be, 9-11 really was a transformative moment for me.

That moment of covering that, of doing, you know, live NPR talk show broadcasts while that was happening and the aftermath.

And then when the war kicked off in Afghanistan, and I would sit in the studio and call satellite phones of correspondents who were out on the ground in Afghanistan.

And as I was hearing them describing that, I felt the pull that I needed to be out there, both, you know, certainly professionally I felt at that time this was a life changing story and sort of a generation changing story that as a journalist I felt a pull to be out there covering that story.

And there was also sort of a, you know, a personal kind of romance of the imagery of these journalists out there following special forces on horseback in the early days of the war.

And it was just a powerful mix of things that started to pull me in that direction.

And then, you know, as I write it, it took several years to finally get an opportunity to get out there.

But it, you know, was that mix of that sort of professional calling to cover this story and this sort of personal drive and need to see and understand strange places in the world.

- So how do you learn how to do that work?

Not the reporting, but going into places, you used the term parachuting in, you drop into a place you've never been.

How do you learn how to do that?

I mean, I'm thinking any number of people would be parachuted in and would want to get parachuted right back out.

- Yeah, I mean, there's only so much that you can learn and prepare for from the outside.

And I'm first to admit and write about, I did not do all the preparation and training that I should have before getting into that world.

So like a lot of other journalists have over the years, I jumped in, you know, a little bit into the deep end without having the right skills and knowledge.

And realizing that, okay, if I am going to some of these places, I need certain protocols.

I should have a satellite phone with me in this place.

I should have a fixer, you know, a local journalist who works with me and helps orient me, things like that.

So I certainly made a lot of mistakes and got lucky early on getting in over my head.

And I refer to myself as sort of the Mr. Bean of foreign correspondents (interviewers laughing) at the time.

So it was a lot of learning by trial and error and learning by watching other journalists and what they did and picking up tricks.

And gradually before each trip, I knew more things to look out for, to prepare for, questions to ask.

But, you know, we've all heard stories over the years, you know, going back to World War II, what have you, people diving into these things as journalists, not having the proper training, equipment and having bad outcomes.

And even journalists way more seasoned than I ever was had bad outcomes in these places.

So certainly there's a big aspect of luck to it.

But a big part of what I talk about through the book is my learning curve of understanding, okay, you know, each trip I sort of learned a couple of dynamics that fed into subsequent trips.

And, you know, by the end of it, I certainly was able to control as much as I could control in the situations.

But as I said, there's no question, there was a lot of luck that I stumbled through early on.

- So you used the term bad outcomes.

And those include, you could have died, you could have been badly injured, you might have returned with all sorts of mental challenges as well.

Was it courage that gave you the ability to go into this dangerous environment or these dangerous environments?

What's the word you would use?

What were you thinking as you went in, your mindset?

Obviously you knew your mindset-- - Yeah, what were you thinking?

(all laughing) It's definitely a good question.

No, look, I don't think it's courage necessarily.

One of the things that I wanted to avoid in this book, because I do feel like some other books of this nature tend to be a little aggrandizing, painting people as heroes and sort of look at how brave I am.

You know, really, I don't think I was necessarily brave.

I think I was naive a lot of the time.

But I think I was driven by that need I discussed earlier to tell the story, to take people to places.

Certainly I've always had a certain, you know, I guess threshold for adventure and danger as a person.

Certainly not, you know, extreme X Game-level type of thing.

But enough that I felt I could go to these places and figure my way around.

You know, over time I think I became much more aware of the danger that I wasn't really considering as much early on.

I think a lot of journalists sometimes think that we're in bubbles in these places, and somehow as journalists we're removed or protected somehow, and we're definitely not.

So I think it was a sense of mission.

And, you know, I don't want to reveal too much of the backstory, but obviously in the book there was, before I started doing this work, I went through some personal crisis and had some things in life that were kind of traumatic and difficult to deal with.

And that put me in a space of sort of also wanting to run around and confront danger a little bit.

So, you know, there was a little bit of some demons, I guess you could say, that were also driving me to some of these places.

And so, you know, as I say, I go to lengths not to make myself look courageous, you know, brave, heroic or whatever for doing this.

It was work, and I did have some other motivations and things I was trying to understand on kind of an existential level in life.

- You know, so on that existential level, one of the recurring themes is your exploration, your desire to find a tribe as you put it, to belong to.

What did you mean by tribe?

- Yeah, so tribe, you know, I use in a very broad sense.

But it's this notion that I believe all human beings have tribal instincts in that we do crave communities where we feel safe, kindred, around our own people.

And that can be taken in, you know, many different directions.

I mean, you know, racial, ethnic, religious, et cetera.

But it can be common interests.

And so I realized looking back through my life, different sort of tribes that I was in, whether it was the band tribe in high school or a summer camp tribe or a fraternity tribe in college.

But I realized I always had this sort of longing for a close knit community of people.

And so that was something that I was feeling as a drive and started to see and experience as I went some of these places, as I would parachute into Colombia or, you know, Egypt or Yemen.

And there would be foreigners who worked in those places, journalists, aid workers, expats who had formed a community.

And they were this sort of close-knit group of people with similar interests, even though they might be from different countries, different ethnicities, different religions, they were this sort of internationalist tribe.

And I felt really pulled to that when I encountered that, and realized that that was kind of my tribe, my people.

And so when I became a full-time foreign correspondent living in Afghanistan, I felt at home among my people, which is, you know, how I got to the subtitle of the book of "Searching the World for a War to Call Home".

And finding that tribe and that that community of people where I felt most myself, where I didn't have to explain myself, we could just sort of exist together in this space and we all sort of understood each other, wherever we might've come from.

- Is there, I don't know how to even ask this question, but, so you achieved sort of what you want in this posting to Kabul.

But you're reporting on a story that is bleak and violent and people's lives have been disrupted and lost.

Is it a challenge to reconcile sort of the, you reached the pinnacle that you were striving for, but around you are some really bleak stories, as it were?

- There's certainly a significant degree of compartmentalization that goes on in that kind of setting.

And it's different among people.

And I, you know, talk about kind of the spectrum of journalists where you have people who are, you know, almost sort of narcissistic, almost sociopathic personalities that don't seem to be emotionally affected by it.

And then others who are really empathetic, who are really trying to save people as much as they're trying to report on things.

So, you know, it affects people differently and people have different motivations to be in these spaces.

I kind of put myself kind of in the middle, that I did find out I was a more empathetic person that I realized going into it, because things did bother and affect me more than I thought.

But at the time, as long as you're sort of in the work and you keep moving, I talk about this concept that the things stay a step or two behind you.

That I realized that we didn't process a lot of the things that were happening.

In nights where we might have to report on friends of ours being killed, you're so immersed in the work, you're going, you're going, you're going, you crash, you get up the next day and you plow ahead with the next story.

And in the meantime you have that sort of tribe, that camaraderie, you know, you drink, you socialize, you self-medicate, you do whatever to kind of get through it.

But I realized that there wasn't a lot of processing going on.

And that's what really hit me when I came out of that world after NPR closed the bureau and I came back to the US and had time for all of this stuff to wash over me.

And had to start to figure out, what do I do with this stuff?

How do I process it?

Where do I put it?

What do I think of the world now?

How do I interact with other people?

And again, I think a lot of people who stay in that world often kind of stay ahead of that.

And, you know, there is a lot of unhealthy behavior and unhealthy avoidance that goes on to try not to let these things wash over you.

And say, "Wow, I just covered a village that was massacred by a neighboring village for no good reason.

How do I absorb that as a human?"

Well, I write my story, I focus on that, again, I compartmentalize and just try to keep moving and, you know, not let that consume me.

- Well, so a lot of what you're talking about is I think probably now called Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, right?

There's a Department of Veterans Affairs that provides services, at least notionally, to veterans who are suffering with this.

How do we do in supporting civilians like yourself, aid workers, journalists, even diplomats who go into harm's way and are confronted with that sort of toxic mix of stress and hypervigilance?

- Yeah, and this is the big area of concern and sort of what I kind of took away from my experience.

And then when I sat and wrote the book and looked at this and realized, you know, there isn't a structure like the VA for civilians.

And so journalists are basically at the mercy of whatever resources they get from their organization, you know, State Department personnel, aid workers, et cetera.

So there isn't kind of an omnibus entity that's looking out for the health and wellbeing of civilians who work in these downrange settings.

And I realized that when I was going through this, the journalism world really was still, to me, kind of avoiding paying attention to it.

Mental health was an uncomfortable area and I think still is, by and large, even though there's more discussion, there are more resources, news organizations are doing more workshops or creating peer groups, things to try to address it.

But I think the need is still far beyond what's available in terms of resources.

And I've talked to lots of friends who are journalists or aid workers who said they never got any kind of care, they never got training before going into these places, they never had monitoring observation or post-deployment care to make sure that they were, you know, psychologically, emotionally okay.

So this is a big part of what I realized from my experience is the takeaway and kind of the call to action is to make organizations more aware that they have obligations, that people need to be aware going into these things that these are some of the things they're gonna experience.

Giving people some tools to cope better than grabbing the alcohol or whatever prescription medications are available over the counter in whatever country you're working in.

And then some tools to come back.

Because when I got back, of course, I thought I was okay, right?

You know, I didn't realize how affected I was by the years I spent in these places.

And it took me years to really come to understanding.

And unfortunately in that time, I made a lot of bad life decisions.

Fortunately, you know, survived them all.

But I really should have had some reentry counseling and help to process the things and make me aware of the things that I would continue to feel, you know, years later.

That some things, again, they're not visible or present or you're not aware of them immediately after stepping out.

So this to me is a really big issue and an important cause, to recognize that, you know, you're asking people to do some very difficult things around the world, and it's gonna have an emotional and psychological impact.

And we need to provide the resources for people who are taking on that work.

- So Sean, we talk a lot about mental health on this show.

I wanted to ask you, was writing the book therapeutic, cathartic, whatever the word would be for you?

Did that help you further process?

- Yeah, absolutely.

And that was why I think it took so long for me to get to the place of sitting down to write it, because I needed to get to a point where I was ready to confront and to relive and to see things that I, you know, had been either avoiding or wasn't ready to see.

So certainly it was helpful.

It was kind of the beginning of a process.

I mean, it certainly didn't fix everything, right?

I mean, it's not like after I sat down and finished the book, I'm like, okay, everything's all good, you know, let's go forward in life.

It opened a lot of doors.

It made me realize things, things to continue working on, things that also I can heal myself by trying to help others through this and raise awareness.

So you know, there are lots of things that opened, created a bit more of a sense of mission for me to help others, to talk to journalism students about what they're gonna get into, to pressure news organizations to do more.

But you know, look, this is a lifelong process.

I mean, things like this don't simply, you know, process, fix, and everything's okay.

This work, this period of my life changed me in permanent ways.

And I'm still every day continuing to understand how some things impact me and why I react to things in the news the way I do.

But certainly, writing the book was this stepping into this healing and awareness process.

- Sean, we literally got about 30 seconds left here.

But I just wanna say, "Nobody expects a Yemeni buffet."

And your sense of humor comes through in this book.

I really would like to know, how did that serve you or did it not serve you as a foreign correspondent?

And literally, we got about 30 seconds here.

- Yeah, I mean, look, dark humor is a necessary survival tool in this kind of world.

And, you know, there are jokes and comments that we made in circumstances that should never be repeated, but were necessary to kind of, you know, take some of the stress or some of the shock or some of the horror out of things.

So, you know, humor is definitely a necessary tool.

And also for me in writing the book, I didn't want it to be all dark, so I wanted to inject as much as I could to kind of pull people out.

So they also weren't going, oh my God, this is all, you know, really dark, heavy stuff.

It's like, yeah, you know, I can still laugh about a lot of it, mostly laugh about myself in the process.

- Well, it's really a remarkable read.

The book is "Passport Stamps".

Sean Carberry, thank you so much for being with us.

Hey, that is all the time we have this week, but if you wanna know more about "Story in the Public Square", you can find us on social media or visit pellcenter.org where you can always catch up on previous episodes.

For G Wayne Miller, I'm Jim Ludes asking you to join us again next time for more "Story in the Public Square".

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