The image of newly freed Wall Street Journal reporter Evan Gershkovich lifting his mother, Ella Milman, off the tarmac at Joint Base Andrews, Maryland, on Thursday says it all. The relief, the elation of mother and son reuniting after more than a year of Gershkovich’s brutal detention.
This scene was likely repeated multiple times, as 24 prisoners were freed in a complicated swap – including Russian-American radio journalist Alsu Kurmasheva, Marine veteran Paul Whelan and Pulitzer Prize-winning Washington Post contributor Vladimir Kara-Murza.
With six countries involved in negotiations, this delicate diplomacy can’t be underestimated. Especially for the Americans, whose freedom hinged on the release of convicted murderer Vadim Krasikov, sentenced to life in 2021 in Germany after killing a Georgian asylee who had fought against Russians in Chechnya.
No moral equivalence there.
And we regret Russian opposition leader Alexei Navalny was not alive to be part of this exchange.
So what’s next for journalists seeking to do the work – sometimes in dangerous places – that they are called to do? Because it is a calling. And it can be strong, pounding, relentless. Won’t be ignored.
Many questioned Gershkovich’s choice to stick around Russia after the invasion of Ukraine. Yet, we understood his choice to stay to do what he was trained to do. What he studied to do. What he lived to do, really.
In this time of limited journalism jobs across the country, it’s not too far-fetched for recent graduates to consider earning one’s chops in media landscapes on foreign soil. There’s a long-standing tradition of this.
Back in the day in journalism classes, it was common for foreign correspondents to visit students. We were enthralled by their tales of gathering news in unfamiliar territories. The victories, close calls, the deadlines made. The lingering gastrointestinal difficulties. Goofy moments and friendships cultivated.
We revered these seasoned journalists and, truth be told, wanted to be them.
In fact, some advice shared was to show up in an undesirable conflict zone and offer a news outlet your service of getting down to the business of reporting. This showed gumption, promise and an adventurous spirit. Courage, too. It led to real jobs.
Of course, Gershkovich’s assignment was competitive and coveted. Couldn’t just show up to score that one. But his ordeal demonstrated how things can go very wrong. How vulnerable journalists are.
Is it just too easy for countries without press freedoms to grab a journalist off the street to imprison, then use as a pawn? What does this mean for news coverage around the world?
At the time of his arrest, Gershkovich was reporting on Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and the impact it had on the country’s economy. He was accredited by Russia’s Foreign Ministry as a foreign correspondent.
This is significant. After a thorough process that requires background checks, accreditation is that green light to do the everyday, imperfect story telling on deadlines. Russia said “yes,” then criminalized Gershkovich’s news gathering.
Now he and other Americans are free. We celebrate this. The image on the tarmac with him greeting his mom is a welcome contrast to the moments Gershkovich stood inside that glass and metal cage in a Moscow courtroom, where his not-guilty plea was denied.
Russian journalists yelling words of encouragement and support to Gershkovich was another warm, rapturous moment for us. Bold and spirited, these journalists took risks in courtroom footage broadcast around the world.
They showed the same traits as Gershkovich and others in the industry.
Empathetic and kind? Gutsy or reckless? We’d like to think the Russian journalists’ words and camaraderie put a spring in Gershkovich’s step as he headed back to his cell.
They get it. They don’t have a First Amendment but demonstrated they, too, share the calling.
And Gershkovich. After he was sentenced to 16 years in prison in July and before his release, he asked the Russian government for one thing – to interview Vladimir Putin.
A reporter’s reporter. We get it.
