By Berl Falbaum
As I watch the coverage of the war in Gaza with agony and anguish, my heart aching for all the suffering, I steel myself when I see a reporter preparing to interview someone who has lost a loved one, be they Israeli or Palestinian.
I know what's coming and I cringe, wanting to shout, "Don't do it please."
But they do it, almost every time. With microphone poised, they demonstrate their enterprising journalistic skills by asking: "How do you feel having lost your loved one?"
I shake with anger and feel my blood pressure rising as mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers try to compose themselves to offer a reply. With hands wringing, they work to control tears and swallow hard frequently to maintain their composure on camera.
This is not journalism. The answers will shed no light on the war, and - the following may come as news to these enterprising reporters - TV viewers know exactly how they feel.
Recently, Richard Engel, NBC chief foreign correspondent, joined an Israeli family for dinner. The son of the mother hosting the dinner was being held hostage by Hamas.
How does it feel not to have your son at this dinner, Engel asked with bright lights shining on her and the camera recording the unfathomable grief.
She was understandably speechless for 5 to 10 seconds - a lifetime on taped interviews - until she was able to offer a tearful, agonizing reply.
Engel got what he wanted and I am confident he received several "atta boys" from his editors back in New York.
The practice is cruel, exploitive and opportunistic. It does not educate the public; it serves no useful purpose.
And the worst part? It is done by design. TV reporters and their editors seek emotional reactions. The more tears the better. Sometimes when the subject has trouble finding the right words, any words, the camera keeps rolling intentionally. The "news gathering" is merciless.
One Palestinian, apparently recognizing he was being used when asked how he felt about losing a member of his family, responded: "I can't do this. Please, I can't answer such a question."
When I was a general assignment reporter at The Detroit News, I covered many stories that involved tragedy, i.e., murders, fatal car accidents, fires, etc.
I hated those assignments because I knew that after I finished at the scenes of these hardships, I would have to interview the victims' survivors sometimes only an hour or so after they learned of their losses.
At a time when they deserved to be left alone to grieve and pray, they did not need an intrusive reporter exploiting the situation for a "good story."
The worst part came when, at the conclusion of the interview, I asked whether I could have a photo of their loved one, which, many times, involved going through photo albums, causing more gut-wrenching grief.
I have never forgotten a murder I covered of a man stabbed to death at a gas station on the far west side of Detroit. I went to his home and had to break the news to his widow (she had a young daughter and was pregnant) because I reached the home before the police. It is some 50 years ago but I still remember her husband's name which I will not use in this column. There is no need; it would be gratuitous.
There are some other tragedies which I covered that left an indelible mark on me and my conscience.
Now, when I see photos on TV of people, particularly children, who lost their lives in crimes, accidents or, like in this instance, war, I know that a reporter had to go to the homes of survivors to obtain them. I am always glad it wasn't me.
While some survivors, in their grief, refuse to be interviewed, reporters manage to gain cooperation from those who are reluctant to participate by arguing that they want to make sure that the information they received from police and other sources is accurate.
That is true, but only partly true. They also want "good" quotes and hopefully, in the interviews, learn of an "angle" - birthday, anniversary, a graduation or tender moments etched in memories - that makes for an "exceptional" story.
I understand these stories need to be covered, but I wish it were done with more sensitivity and humanity.
I don't know how those reading this column feel when they see reporters asking the "How do you feel?" question.
I would like to write how I feel but it is not printable.
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Berl Falbaum is a veteran journalist and author of 12 books.
