'L.A. Times' Reporter Chronicles Human Side of War

By: Sarah Weber Tina Susman has seen history in the making. Throughout her career as an award-winning foreign correspondent, she has witnessed the fall of apartheid in South Africa; genocide in Sierra Leone, Rwanda, and Darfur; and destruction by natural disasters like the Asian tsunami and Hurricane Katrina.

Now, Susman is witnessing what she calls "one of the biggest, if not the biggest story of our generation as journalists." She is chief of the Los Angeles Times' Baghdad bureau, an appointment she received earlier this year. Her stories of U.S soldiers frustrated with their mission, and accounts from Iraqis who are living in nightmarish conditions, have elicited emotional feedback from readers back home.

"Almost every story I write, I get some kind of response," Susman tells E&P. Such was the case following her frank report on Aug. 25, when Susman relayed the struggles of U.S. troops stationed in Iraq. The polarized responses didn't surprise her. "There doesn't seem to be much middle ground on the topic of Iraq these days," says Susman. "Whenever you write a story about it, you hear from both sides."

One atypical aspect of her August report was the troops' candidness. Susman says the number of soldiers who agreed to have their names used in the article alongside their critical statements reveals their mounting frustration.

"They had reached a level where they were fed up. I did not feel at all hesitant about writing that story," she adds. "Frankly, I feel confirmed with all the e-mails I've received, 90% of which are military or the families of military saying, 'Thanks for writing the story, because that's exactly what we think.'"

On Sept. 4, in advance of Gen. David Petraeus' report on the surge, Susman provided her own assessment of what she called the "dispiriting" results: "The U.S. military buildup that was supposed to calm Baghdad and other trouble spots has failed to usher in national reconciliation, as the capital's neighborhoods rupture even further along sectarian lines, violence shifts elsewhere and Iraq's government remains mired in political infighting."

Whether she is speaking with anxious soldiers or Iraqis, Susman realizes that people faced with terrible conditions -- whatever their allegiances may be -- are desperate to have their stories told. "Anywhere I've been in the world, when people have been through really awful situations, it's a relief for them to talk, to pour their guts out to somebody," Susman observes. "And sometimes, they really hope that it will help."

The majority of Susman's dispatches on Iraq are human-interest articles that often focus on the lives of Iraqi citizens and how they are perpetually shaped by the fight for their country. It is an aspect of the war that Susman feels is underreported.

"I like talking to regular people," she says, "and it's important that readers get that. I think our paper does a better job of telling the story through the eyes of ordinary Iraqis. From what I do read, I actually think we do that on a regular basis more than others, maybe because of the staff we have. Part of it, frankly, is because that's what I'm stronger at."

Among the more haunting stories that Susman has reported was a July 28 article detailing the kidnapping and eventual escape of a Shiite Muslim. It was a subject particularly resonant for Susman: In 1994, she was kidnapped while working in Mogadishu, Somalia, and held for 20 days before being released by her captors. Susman says she couldn't help but relate to Kudum Hussein Ali's story.

"So much of what he said reminded me of what I went through when I was kidnapped," she says. Both kidnappings occurred while the victims were in their cars. Both Susman and Ali originally thought that the men rushing toward them were trying to steal their automobiles. "Frankly, that's one reason the story came out as effectively as it did," she admits. "I was really feeling it while I was writing it."

Susman has described daily life in Iraq through the words of one of her drivers, who said to her, "Abnormal is normal here in Iraq." Citizens are now forced to deal with armed militias running their neighborhoods. What many Americans perceive as Iraqis in collusion with these militias, she says, is simply wrong.

"The interesting thing here is that a lot of Iraqis view these militias, like the Mahdi Army, as good protection for them, depending on which neighborhood they're in," Susman explains.

"It's not because Iraqis want gunmen on the street," she stresses. "Quite the opposite. A lot of them admit they've been reduced to supporting these militias in some way because they feel it will add some security that the regular security forces can't bring them."

This fracturing of the Iraqi society is a recurring theme in Susman's reports. It is also something that Western readers truly do not understand.

"It's so hard for people at a distance to realize that most Iraqis are not involved in this sectarian war," she says. "Most of them couldn't care less whether someone is Sunni or Shiite or Christian. Before the war, most of them had no idea what religion their neighbors were. Now they're kind of forced to pay attention to it all, if only so they don't end up like that guy who got kidnapped."

In the midst of this daily struggle for survival, Susman acknowledges not just the Western journalists covering Iraq, but the locals who have, in the pages of the L.A. Times, anonymously shared their personal accounts of everyday life.

In one such account, an Iraqi whom Susman describes as living the American dream -- an engineer with a wife, two kids, and a dog -- must decide whether to give his dog away. The reason? The gunfire in his neighborhood is so constant and loud that it is driving the dog crazy.

Another anonymous author told of walking by a body in a pool of blood on his way to buy groceries in western Baghdad. The man turned out to still be alive, yet everyone who passed was too afraid to help him. The author was distressed and guilty, but knew that for safety's sake, he could not stop and help.

"I went on to another grocery store," he wrote, "staying for about five minutes while shopping for tomatoes, onions, and other vegetables. During that time, the man managed to sit up and wave to passing cars. No one stopped. Then, a white Volkswagen pulled up. A passenger stepped out with a gun, walked steadily to the wounded man and shot him three times. The car took off down a side road and vanished.

"No one did anything. No one lifted a finger. The only reaction came from a woman in a grocery store. In a low voice, she said, 'My God, bless his soul.'"

Just another day in Baghdad.