Mon séjour en Afrique du Sud (Cape Town)

Michael Schmidt becomes an SANDF guinea pig

The South African military has started testing a new policy to “embed” journalists with its forces, as the US military did during the Iraq invasion

The SA National Defence Force allowed a select media group to attend its annual brigade-level live-fire exercise last week.

The idea is to develop a corps of accredited “war correspondents”, who will also be allowed to take part, on the ground, in any peacekeeping and combat operations the SANDF may engage in.

But the Freedom of Expression Institute (FXI) has warned that many of the policy’s provisions are too broad and compromise the media’s watchdog role.

The concept of embedding journalists and photographers with “own forces” in combat dates as far back as the Crimean War of 1854-1856, which gave the British reading public both positive news – on the nursing work of Florence Nightingale – and negative news on the disastrous charge of the Light Brigade.

In recent times, the concept itself fell under the spotlight after it was overhauled by US military strategists as “embedding” during the 2003 invasion of Iraq.

Curiously, embedding was adopted in response to media organisations’ complaints about meagre access to fighting units and the frontlines during the 1991 Gulf War and the 2001 invasion of Afghanistan.

Although the practice gave journalists something of the access they wanted, it came at a price: they were largely corralled in a tightly controlled environment and subjected to military censorship and a barrage of spin – issues highlighted in Jehan Noujaim’s 2004 documentary Control Room.

Two years ago, while flying back from a visit to Rwanda, Defence Minister Mosiuoa Lekota told a handful of journalists on the trip that he was in favour of putting together a group of defence writers who would be allowed privileged access to SANDF operations based on their understanding of the issues involved.

Now that wish is starting to crystallise, as a group of journalists is given access to the annual Exercise Seboka at the Army Battle School in Lohatlha, Northern Cape.

Normally, a specific media “open day” would allow defence correspondents to sit and watch a distant combat display.

But this year journalists were embedded with units of their choice to witness the exercise first-hand.

We were required to sign a nine-page document that both indemnified the army against claims that might arise if we were injured or killed, and also laid out what may finally become policy ground rules.

FXI director Jane Duncan said the agreement “embeds journalists in a manner that favours the SANDF rather than the media” – although Lieutenant Colonel Des Gouws, the army intelligence officer assigned to accompany us, said he believed “there should be some rules on both sides”.

The document required us to comply with orders and regulations issued by the command under which we fell, plus a slew of legislation.

Duncan warned this meant that “the government asserts the right ... to usurp editors’ authority to direct the newsmaking process”.

We were allowed to speak openly to all ranks, and eavesdrop on radio traffic.

The document required war correspondents to “refrain from joining the forces of any other power, without the prior approval of the Ministry of Defence, either as a correspondent or in any other capacity during the continuance of operations”.

This clause may prove problematic, as journalists should, at their own risk, be able to move from frontline to rearward areas, or even to risk death or capture by crossing into enemy territory.

For example, during Operation Boleas, the 1998 South Africa/Botswana invasion of Lesotho to quell an armed forces mutiny, journalists moved freely, both independent of and alongside South African armoured columns, both of which brought them in the line of fire.

Duncan said some believed the real reason for the invasion was to protect South Africa’s interests, and journalists should be free to report on such views.

If journalists, for reasons of camouflage, put on the uniform of the forces they are travelling with, they cannot be distinguished from legitimate targets by the enemy and can be held as prisoners of war if captured, so most war correspondents tend to adopt neutral colours, such as khaki.

The most troublesome clause is: “In the event of censorship regulations being imposed, I hereby undertake to submit for clearance all copy, photographs, tapes, film, or other materials, or books or articles intended for broadcast or publication, concerning the force to which I am accredited, produced by me during the period of operations and (for) the duration of the assignment.”

Such censorship is a certainty in times of war, but not applicable in peacetime. Duncan warned that while “the Defence Act is much less restrictive than it was under apartheid, the only provision in the new act for censorship is by regulation, where a state of national defence is called by the president”.

The SANDF’s Gouws said that in his view, “the rule should be to report on what is currently happening, but not on what’s going to happen, so no journalists should be present at planning sessions or be allowed to report on planned movements”.

This is a reasonable compromise, but one that may not be upheld in the heat of battle.

The army said that “no duty of care is owed by the SA Army to the correspondent or their property”, but when defence analyst Leon Engelbrecht sprained his ankle while embedded with a group of tactical intelligence soldiers, he was airlifted for hospital treatment.