Reporting on situations and victims of human rights abuse requires sensitivity, patience and an ability to find the proper balance between seeking accurate and detailed information, and respecting the feelings and emotional limits of those being interviewed.

Muzamil Jaleel
A young journalist covering Kashmir for The Indian Express.

People think that interviewing is easy, that it's simply a matter of going somewhere and asking someone a few questions. Anyone with a little nerve can do that. The truth, however, is that to interview well is an art, and a difficult one.

Let us think first of all what the interview is for. News interviews and feature interviews have different objectives, but in general you want three things from them.

Information

Hard facts: what happened, where did you go, what are your plans, how much will it cost. And examples to illustrate your theme.

Quotes - to add authority, colour and impact.

Authority: It's harder to disbelieve named, quoted sources speaking in their own words
Colour: The quality of language. Speech is more flexible than formal writing. Direct quotes can give more of the flavour of a personality
Impact: Good use of quotes helps lift out the key points. It can emphasise a telling statement or reflect a mood

Colour

Not just the colour of language. Good interviewers - particularly feature writers - use their eyes and their ears for more than just words. They look for detail in the interviewee's clothes, environment, mannerisms. These things add life and perspective to the story.

So how do you go about it?

We have a dilemma as reporters. Journalism allows us to meet people we may not otherwise encounter, to talk to them about their extraordinary experiences. But journalism is not a peep-show, and there are two sides to every interview. We, the journalists, have a compulsion to probe and tell; they, our interviewees, have an instinct to guard their deepest secrets to themselves. It is, as Muzamil Jaleel says, important to remember to respect the emotional limits of those we talk to, not to ride rough-shod over their sensibilities and their fears.

This is true of all reporting but perhaps more so of reporting on human rights violations. Often, those on whom we depend for our scoops have suffered intensely. Our job is to bring their suffering before the public but in the process we have to be careful that we do not aggravate their trauma. We have to probe, we have to be persistent, but whether working in a difficult terrain like Kashmir, a metropolis like Delhi or a village in the deep interior, there are some basic dos and don'ts.

Dos and Don'ts

We have to win the trust of our interviewees before anything else. Then we have to make sure that an informant's trust in us is not violated. Trust is not a button you can switch on and off. It has to be won with effort and sincerity. Your body language and your words have to instil confidence in the interviewee, and your behaviour and your actions during and after the interview have to reflect the confidence you have won.

Journalism is about forging relationships and relationships are about people. So, as in any relationship, sensitivity to the nuances of the situation is the key. A smile, a nod, a laugh or just a touch all go towards building of trust. Sometimes, it is silence to make the other person realise that you share their grief and you understand their feelings.

Kashmir, where almost every family has suffered trauma in one form or the other, offers a tremendous opportunity for a reporter interested in covering human rights issues. It also poses a tremendous challenge. How do you interview people in a conflict situation like that?

Muzamil Jaleel, who lives in Kashmir and writes about it, has this to say:

While approaching scenes or people where abuses have occurred, it is a good idea to begin a general conversation expressing concern, rather than to take out a notebook and start asking questions immediately. Try to be culturally sensitive and not blunt; it is better to ask about a person who "passed away" or was "martyred," rather than using words like "killed" or "tortured."

Don't ask for names or other identification immediately either; that can be intimidating and the information can always be learned later or from other people. Do make clear, on the other hand, who you are and why you are there; never pretend to be an official or a non-journalist. Most people in these situations will understand the role of the press and want the public to know what has happened.

After a certain degree of comfort and trust have been established, then you can begin probing for details. Often, if you simply ask, "tell me what happened," people will begin to pour out their stories without much more prompting, and you can ask for clarification or more detail from time to time. They may well include many confusing and irrelevant details, but those can be sorted out later. Just sitting and listening to someone's story can be helpful to them as well as giving you an important initial basis for your story.

Read one of Jaleel's dispatches to see how he puts some of his suggestions into practice.

(Chorus in Chittisinghpora: High time the truth came out. Indian Express, 2.11.00).

Jaleel has walked into a village, predominantly inhabited by Sikhs, where seven months earlier masked gunmen had shot dead 35 men. It is the first time in recent memory that the Sikh community has been targeted so brutally. Mystery continues to shroud the killers.

The situation is tense so the reporter has to tread very, very carefully. Jaleel is a man and those whom he interviews are mostly women.

In such a situation, he says, don't begin the conversation by queries containing loaded words like "massacre". Just sitting quietly next to the interviewee for a little while breaks the barrier. Quite often, even a bereaved woman will begin to talk once she is convinced that the reporter means her no harm.

Let the person talk at her own pace and in her own style. Don't hurry her, don't appear hurried yourself and don't try to influence her style of talking. There will be much in what she says which will not go into the final story but be respectful - listen her out. The selection of facts, the editing, the chiselling of sentences and paragraphs can be kept for later.

Shashinder Kaur, a Sikh woman who lost all five make members of her family in the Chittisinghpora tragedy, tells Jaleel:

"We all want the answer to a single question. Who were those masked gunmen? Why did they kill our men?"

This can't have been the very first thing she said, but unless she trusted Jaleel, she would not have been pouring out her grief to him in this way. Seven months have gone by since Kaur lost her dear ones and, as Jaleel describes it,

Sitting in the compound of the newly constructed government primary school, Shashinder Kaur and another widow, Narinder Kaur, talk of the grief that sank in later - there were no more relatives and friends to console them.

The words Jaleel chose for his story show empathy, which is the most important thing in human rights reporting. The reporter may never meet the interviewee again, but for that brief moment when their paths do cross, there should be a feeling of sharing emotions. Here is another example of Jaleel's work.

Mother of all forums helps them pull through trying times
by MUZAMIL JALEEL

SRINAGAR, MAY 2: They sit in a dingy room in downtown Srinagar, grief accumulated in dark shadows under their eyes.

They are mothers whose sons have allegedly disappeared after being picked up by the security forces. It is Mother's Day today. Most of them do not know.

All of them are members of the Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons. "We want to know the fate of our missing children," says Parveena Ahangar, the chairperson of this forum. "We know our efforts have all gone waste and we are still to know the truth. But being in a group gives us a chance to meet and at least weep together," she says.

Her son Javed Ahmad Ahangar, is missing since August 18, 1990 after being picked up by the security forces from his uncle's house at Dhobi Mohalla, Batamalloo.

The group has around 300 members, mostly mothers, who have also filed petitions in the Jammu and Kashmir High Court seeking an answer from the Government regarding the fate of their children. The Amnesty International in its recent report on the disappearances in Kashmir has, however, put the number of missing youth at 800.

"If it is Mother's Day today, let the Government come forward and reveal the truth about the fate of our missing sons," Ahangar says. "If they are dead, let us know. At least we will come out of this life of terrible uncertainty," she adds.

Ahangar had been searching for her son, then a Class XI student, throughout the country. "I visited almost every big jail of India. I looked for him in Tihar, Meerut, Jodhpur, Heeranagar and Jammu jail, but he was nowhere," she says.

She is critical of the separatist groups also. "They remember us when they have to go out anywhere. They come and take photostat copies of our papers that show our plight and vanish till they need us again," Ahangar says.

Another woman from Safakadal, who does not wanted to be named, has developed problems in her eyes because of continuous weeping. "I don't know why my son was arrested. If he has committed some crime, let them put him in jail but at least tell me where he is," she says. "Only mothers can understand what I mean. Living with this uncertainty is like going through hell," she says.

The Government claims it is looking into the allegations of custodial disappearances. Government records show that there are around 3,000 missing men in Kashmir Valley that includes those who have crossed over to PoK, kidnapped by the militants, besides missing in security force and police custody.

"After the present Government took over, I must tell you there has been no enforced disappearance," says Minister of State for Home, Mushtaq Ahmad Lone. "However, we are investigating the previous cases. All such cases reported by various human rights groups, including the Amnesty International in their reports, are being examined and we have already given direction for verification," he says.

Indian Express, 2.5.00

Three different interviews, each handled differently. Parveena Ahangar is an articulate activist leader who has almost certainly been interviewed before. Her quotes are strong, and well-used, illustrating her anger as well as her grief. The second mother is less confident and more emotional. Jaleel treats her sympathetically, respecting her wish for anonymity. Rightly, she takes second place to Ahangar, reinforcing the message of the story.

Finally, the minister. A straightforward political interview reported straight, with only that one word, claimed, in the penultimate paragraph to suggest that maybe Jaleel is sceptical about the government's approach.

A reporter covering human rights soon discovers that it is often very difficult to know the true story. How do you investigate allegations of abuses in a highly polarised atmosphere, where each person you interview seems to have a vested interest in telling you only a part of the story?

Here is a tip from Jaleel:

Because people are often extremely emotional in these situations, and because there may often not be eye-witnesses to the abuse, it is not always easy to determine fact from rumour or embellishment. Sometimes a question must be asked several different ways, again always trying to respect the feelings of the person being interviewed, who may well have just lost a husband, son, or other close relative.

Showing sympathy comes naturally and can also help create confidence with people. To a certain extent, it is impossible to remain "objective" about cases of abuse, and the more one empathises with the situation, the more powerful and compelling the story will be, especially to readers who may know little about the circumstances. On the other hand, it is also important to retain a degree of professionalism and neutrality. People will often ask for help in seeking redress, taking complaints to authorities, etc. A reporter needs to explain that his role is to report to the public what has happened, rather than to get personally involved in the case as an advocate. However, there is nothing wrong with being able to provide people with names of lawyers, doctors or other sources of help they can approach themselves. In many cases, people have no idea where to turn, and even a name and a number can give them a place to start.

Human rights abuses take place not just in conflict-scarred places like Kashmir but right under our noses, in the very city where we live or in a place which looks perfectly peaceful. Often, the abused are from the most vulnerable section of society, a segment which is totally incapable of looking after itself: children.

How do you interview children who have undergone trauma? Again, the basic rule applies: Don't begin the conversation with a direct query on the child's horrible experience. Find another, more human way to start.

Just as no two adults are the same, no two children are the same either. Some children will respond to a smile, others may open up if you offer them a small gift like a bar of chocolate, sweets or a pencil. Sometimes, it's a good idea to play with them before talking to them. If they go to school, ask them about what they enjoy most in the classroom. Get them talking about what appears to interest them the most. Once a bond starts to form, you're in a better position to ask deeper questions. But carefully. Children are not socialised to be polite, so there can be occasions when a child refuses flatly to answer any queries.

While investigating an international racket on the use of small children from Murshidabad, one of India's poorest pockets, as beggars in Saudi Arabia for The Chicago Tribune, Delhi journalist Patralekha Chatterjee carried boxes of sweets, crayons and chocolates. Murshidabad is not a terrorist-infested area but the situation which confronted Chatterjee was tense. Clearly, criminal elements were involved in the abuse of these poor village children and the villagers were afraid to talk.

It has been more than three months since the story about the beggar children made national headlines in India. The children are back in their villages in Murshidabad, but their homecoming has been an uneasy one.

The cleanup operation by the Saudi police during Ramadan blew the lid off one of the most horrific rackets: children, especially deformed ones from poor families, ensnared into professional begging.

Today, a pall of fear has descended on the villages. Desperate parents who rented out their children for money and brokers who have been living off the handsome pickings of the beggar trade are afraid that all the publicity will put an end to this lucrative business. Young boys guard the entry to the villages. Hostility and a barrage of questions greet every stranger. Strangely enough, many of the crippled children whose pictures appeared in the newspapers are missing. After the first flush of revelations, parents are wary of speaking out. The brokers have gone underground, although they still have their secret informers and musclemen, says one young man in Udaichandpur village on condition that he is not named. The children are being cowed into silence as part of damage control.

Chicago Tribune, 20.4.97

The story had exploded in the Indian media when some of the children were caught and sent back to their country. By the time Chatterjee landed in Murshidabad, the residents had already had a taste of the national and international media. The parents, who were often party to the racket, were reluctant to talk to any more reporters. Many of the children had been coached to deliver well-rehearsed lines. They were terrified and traumatised - firstly by their experience in Saudi Arabia, secondly by fear of what their parents or the village elders would do to them if they blurted out inconvenient facts.

In such a situation, how does a reporter get at the truth while remaining sensitive to the emotional limits of the villagers? The first thing to remember is that you, the reporter, are a stranger and therefore an object of suspicion. It is up to you to allay those suspicions. Getting children to talk in such a situation is a challenge. In rural India, it is almost impossible to talk to children unsupervised by parents, the extended family or neighbours. You have to learn to work within those constraints.

Chatterjee's 'gift items' came in handy. The offer of a box of fruits and sweets, which the whole family could share, lifted the barriers somewhat. Then she recalls talking to one of the children first about her village, her school, her friends and her family before putting the first serious question to her.

Cultural sensitivity is important. Sharing a cup of tea, a meal, a joke are often preludes to sharing confidences. It relaxes the interviewee. This is what Chatterjee did:

It was extremely important to win over the confidence of the family, share a cup of tea and sweets with them before quizzing the child. By the time, we were talking, I felt almost a family member. I had taken off my shoes (considered elementary manners in traditional Indian society), swapped cooking recipes with the mother and exchanged banter with the other family members. I let the mother answer questions on behalf of the child at the start. Only when I felt they trusted me enough did I direct questions straight to Sarjina Khatoon, my interviewee.

Here is how Chatterjee described the incident in her story for The Chicago Tribune.

Just once in a while, in an unguarded moment, the children blurt out the truth. Sometimes, a fruit basket, a packet of biscuits, a box of sweets or a Barbie doll breaks the barriers.

Nine-year old Sarjina Khatoon of Shahjadpur, a village of mud huts, ponds and untarred roads from where many of the beggar children hail, looks wistfully at the Barbie doll a BBC television journalist presented her. Barbie in beachwear inside a mud hut strikes just the ironic note that reflects the twists and turns of Sarjina's life. One of six daughters and born in one of the poorest parts of India, Sarjina clearly did not have an easy life ahead of her.

Three years ago, she was playing with some village boys in front of an open fire. One of them accidentally pushed her. She was scalded. The toes in her right foot were permanently deformed," says her mother, Jahantun….. Little did Sarjina realise that in the eyes of her parents, the twisted toes represented a pot of gold. Sarjina was taken out of school and packed off to Mecca with her father, Jahanwali Sheikh.

Sarjina, who had not even stepped out of her village, was suddenly inside an aircraft on her way to a distant land.

" I was terrified," Sarjina recalls. " The airplane made a strange sound. They gave me a seat near the window. I was very excited. But when I looked out, I was nervous. We were so far from the village."

"I had never begged, but I saw how the others were doing it," Sarjina says. "Some of the children had been there much longer than me." Her eyes misted over as she spoke of the "apples, grapes and meat" she ate in Mecca…..

Sarjina's father was deported three months before she was.

"I lost my passport and ticket. One day, the police caught me. And put me behind bars. Then they sent me back."

Sarjina, looking pensive as her mother narrated their litany of woes, did not get to keep any of the money she earned.

"Chacha (Uncle) took away the money every evening," she says quietly, clamming up when prodded further. Other village men and women crowded around the mud hut. Jahantun signalled to Sarjina. The child lapsed into silence, realizing she must not confide to a stranger."

It isn't only children who need sensitive interviewers, of course. Sadly, there are other victims who would rather not talk to us, but whose stories are key elements of effective human rights coverage. The victims of rape, for example.

How do you talk to a woman - or a man, for that matter - whose body has been violated?

There is no easy answer. Every rape victim is different - all they have in common is the brutal crime that brought them to our notice - so there is no universal approach an interviewer can apply. You have to start by trying to understand their horror, their reluctance to talk. Trying to put yourself in their shoes may help.

If you were in the same situation, how would you react to a particular query? Would it be offensive? Would it annoy you? Would it be relevant? Does it go too far? Realise when you have overstepped the limits - or better, realise when you are about to overstep the limits. There are things people simply do not want to talk about, experiences they don't wish to relive, so respect that. Of course, you have to test the waters, even in delicate areas, but a sensitive interviewer will not extort a reply just for the sake of a juicy quote.

People want to be treated first and foremost as individuals and not as commodities, so your interviewee is not there simply to provide you with a story.

In principle, it will be easier for a woman journalist to speak with a rape victim, but being a man is not necessarily a handicap.

Read the award-winning story by P Sainath, one of India's top journalists. (A Dalit Goes to Court, The Hindu, 13.6.99 attached.) Sainath's interviewees are angry, seeking justice and willing to talk. He is a good listener, another mark of the good interviewer.

First he talks to the mother of a victim of child rape. She clearly had more to say than Sainath used, but the interview is the way into a wider story, so he summarises the main points and uses only one short, key quote.

WHEN BHANWARI DEVI's 13-year-old daughter was raped in the bajra fields by an upper caste youth, she picked up a lathi and went after the rapist herself. She had no faith in police and courts. Either way, she was prevented from seeking any redress by the upper castes of Ahiron Ka Rampura.

"The village caste panchayat promised me justice," she says. "Instead, they threw me and my family out of Rampura." Nearly a decade after the rape, no one in this village in Ajmer district has been punished.

It doesn't mean much, though, in Rajasthan. On average in this State, one Dalit woman is raped every 60 hours.

That leads him into a statement on the incidence of such crime in Rajasthan, then a narrative account of a second - different - atrocity illustrated by another succinct but very effective interview. A Dalit, Rameshwar, was tortured by upper caste neighbours, and the case eventually went to court.

Rameshwar's father, Mangi Lal, turned hostile as a witness. "What do you expect us to do?" he asked me in Naksoda. "We live here in terror.

The authorities were totally against us. The Gujjars can finish us any time.

Various powerful people, and some in the police, forced this on us." Rameshwar has left the village. Mangi Lal has sold one of the only three bighas of land the family owns to meet the costs of the case thus far.

See how Sainath links one case, one interview, to the next to keep the narrative flow of his story. It is clear that he has carried out a lot of very effective interviews with people who are not used to pressmen, but he is a good enough journalist to use quotes selectively, for maximum impact.

For the world, it was a barbaric act. In Rajasthan, it just falls into one of thousands of "other IPC" cases. Which means cases other than murder, rape, arson or grievous hurt.

Between 1991-96, there was one such case registered every four hours.

In Sainthri in Bharatpur district, residents say there have been no marriages for seven years. Not of the men, at least. That's how it's been since June 1992, when Sainthri was stormed by a rampaging upper caste mob. Six people were murdered and many houses destroyed. Some of those killed were burned alive when the bittora (store of dung and fuelwood) they were hiding in was deliberately set alight.

"The women of Sainthri are able to get married because they leave the village when they do so," says Bhagwan Devi. "But not the men. Some men have left this village to get married. People don't want to send their daughters here. They know that if we are attacked again, no one, neither police nor courts, will help us."

Her cynicism is grounded in reality. Seven years after the murders, charges are yet to be framed in the matter.

That too, does not mean much. One Dalit is murdered in this State a little over every nine days.

In the same village lives Tan Singh, a survivor of the bittora fire. The medical record shows he suffered 35 per cent in that event. His ears have been more or less destroyed. The little compensation he got - because his brother was one of those killed - has long ago disappeared in medical expenses. "I had to sell my plot of land to meet the costs," says the devastated young man. That includes several hundreds of rupees each time on repeated trips to Jaipur - on just travel alone.

Tan Singh is just a statistic. Some Dalit is the victim of grievous hurt every 65 hours in this state.

It's worth reading the whole story to see how Sainath pulls all his interviews together with his research and background to make a devastating case.

Here is another story which deals with rape, The Male Prerogative by Soma Wadhwa which appeared in Outlook, November 6, 1996. Wadhwa is an observant interviewer and leverages her youth to strike an instant rapport with an elderly rape victim.

Constantly living in fear of the man who allegedly raped her in August 1993 and was jailed for two months, to be later acquitted by the court, the naïve grandmotherly woman explains what she perceives as reasons for her legal defeat: "He was the ex-sarpanch (village headman) that's why the case was difficult. Moreover, lawyer sahib explained there was no evidence. But at least he went to jail for some time."

Unable to rid herself of the memories of the terrible incident nonetheless, Kani (Kani Devi) shivers as she recalls how people ridiculed her when they heard of the rape. Harried, the simple woman unknowingly voices the plight of the women in the state: "Okay, so I am too old to be raped. Young girls are asking to be raped. And some are crying rape to become heroines in Delhi. Do people realise how much it takes for a woman to talk about her physical violation in public?"

Wadhwa relates to Kani Devi as a woman to another woman. Her empathy and respect for Kani Devi's years broke down barriers between the two. In such situations, it is crucial to recognise when to speak and when to remain silent. The tone of Kani Devi's words suggest an anguish poured out spontaneously and not in response to any specific query.

Sometimes interviewees are so traumatised that they reply to all queries initially with monosyllabic answers or silence. Try another question, preferably on an unrelated issue, and if the response is more positive, rephrase the first query in a different way

It might not work, of course, for there is always a risk in interviews that something will go wrong. Perhaps the person you're going to interview doesn't like your paper, or takes a dislike to you. Perhaps they're in a bad mood, or maybe you called at a bad time. So how do you cope with risk?

The Importance of Research

Research is your biggest weapon in cutting down risk. P. Sainath had done his homework on the condition of Dalits in Rajasthan before he arrived on the scene. He knew the background, he knew what kind of lives his interviewees led, he knew about their fears and their anger. Research allows you to ask sharper questions and follow up with supplementaries, but it also prepares you for some of the problems you might face. And it might just save your interview.

An interview starts before you ever get to meet the person you're going to talk to. It starts perhaps days or weeks beforehand, when you must try to find out as much as possible about them. And not just about them, but about their situation too. Ideally, you should know far more than you will ever need to use. News writers may not have time to adopt such an approach, but feature writers and investigative journalists must make the time.

But human rights reporting isn't only about victims. You also have to report the other - official - side, and that presents very different challenges. The police, the military or other authorities are often reluctant to give information and may tell a radically different story than the victims, relatives or witnesses. Research helps here too.

Armed with as much detailed and verifiable information as possible about an incident before approaching the authorities, the reporter can ask sharper and more informed questions, compare the different versions and make better judgements. That doesn't mean adopting an argumentative or adversarial attitude, however. That is likely to turn the interviewee against you, and could cost you your story. It can damage your credibility and ultimately hurt your ability to make a difference. A person in authority may refer to someone as a "criminal" or "terrorist" whose relatives have described the same person as an "innocent victim" or "martyr." It is best to accept each side's description and then include both in the story, in quotes if necessary. Human rights cases are often as full of contradiction as emotion, and a reporter's role is to present both to the reader.

Just as there is no one definitive way to interview, there is no one way to research. You may have to spend a lot of time in the library, or reading through cuttings and books in the office or surfing the web. You may have to make a lot of phone calls or even conduct preliminary interviews with people - experts or friends - who can give you background information. Because what research means is that you will go into your interview knowing which questions to ask. Few things alienate an interviewee more than someone coming along asking dumb questions.

Good research also means that you will go into your interview with an idea, at least, of what you want to get out of it, and what answers to expect. Some interviews are a voyage into the unknown and you don't realise what you are looking for until you come back. But in others you are looking for something specific, particularly if the interview is for news rather than features. Research helps you to keep your options open. Knowledge is your armour.

Somebody once said that the journalist's job is to ask the questions an intelligent child would ask. There's a lot in this. Many people feel embarrassed to ask questions that might make them look stupid. But the interviewer's duty is to find out as much as possible. It doesn't matter whether the other person thinks they're an idiot. Children can be nosey and tactless, but they can also cut through some of the social barriers that people put up between each other.

There are no ten commandments for a reporter setting out to cover human rights abuses, but being a hard-nosed news hound is not to be confused with being offensive or insensitive. The best reports come out of a personal chemistry between the interviewer and the interviewees.

The secret: empathy.