Journalism educator Zelalem Tesfaye Worku reflects on how journalists should avoid causing further distress when interviewing communities experiencing trauma.
A village after the fighting
Two days after intense fighting in the Bugna District in Ethiopia, I travelled to one of the villages with a group of foreign journalists. The physical signs of war were everywhere. Houses had been abandoned and roads were deserted. The silence was unsettling.
The village looked more like a cemetery than a place where people once had lived. The men had fled, fearing further attacks. Only women, older people, and children remained behind, trying to make sense of the devastation.
Worth remembering
Communities that have just been through violence are often fragile, and your arrival is not a neutral event.
Two stories of loss
As we walked through the village, one woman caught our attention. She wandered the street talking to herself, on the verge of tears. Our local guide quietly explained her story. Her husband, an elderly priest who had faithfully served the local church for many years, had been killed during the conflict. With no family members nearby and no community support to help her grieve, she had become overwhelmed by loss. Trauma had consumed her life.
A few minutes later, we were taken to another part of the village where we encountered another heartbreaking reality. A nine-year-old girl had survived sexual violence during the conflict. Her older brother had previously brought her from a remote rural area to live with his family so she could attend school.
When armed fighters approached the district, he fled to save his own life, leaving behind his wife and young sister. When we visited, children of similar age were playing outside. She was not among them. She remained hidden inside the house.
According to her sister-in-law, the child avoided leaving home because of the stigma attached to sexual violence. “Neighbours would point fingers at her,” said her sister-in-law. Instead of receiving medical care, psychological support and protection, she was living in isolation and silence.
Worth remembering
Trauma is often made worse by isolation and stigma. Survivors may need care and protection before they need an audience.
When consent is not informed consent
Because we arrived with international journalists, many residents believed we might be able to help them. They were eager to share the gruesome experiences they had gone through, hoping their stories would reach the outside world.
The survivor’s sister-in-law repeatedly encouraged us to take her picture, unaware of the potential repercussions it would have for the rest of her life. At that moment, I came to realise how easily good intentions can unintentionally cause further harm.
The consent being offered was not informed consent. It came from a family member desperately hoping that publicity might bring assistance. But publishing the identity and photograph of a child who had survived sexual violence could have exposed her to lifelong stigma, violated her dignity, and forced her to relive one of the most traumatic experiences of her life.
Worth remembering
Willingness to be photographed or interviewed is not the same as informed consent, especially when the person agreeing is desperate, is speaking for someone else, or cannot foresee the consequences.
Why training makes the difference
Fortunately, the journalists accompanying me understood trauma-sensitive reporting. They knew that not every story needs a face. They recognised that protecting a survivor is often more important than obtaining exclusive footage or emotional interviews.
They chose not to photograph the child or reveal identifying details. The experience has remained with me ever since. It also left me asking an uncomfortable question: “What if the journalists present had never received training on trauma-sensitive reporting?”
The answer is deeply concerning. Without awareness, a journalist might interview the child immediately after the event, ask her to recount painful memories repeatedly, photograph her without considering future consequences, or publish details that make her easily identifiable.
None of these actions are intended to cause harm, yet each can retraumatise a survivor.
Worth remembering
Not every story needs a face. Good intentions are not enough, and knowing what trauma does to people helps you avoid mistakes you never meant to make.
What retraumatisation means
Retraumatisation occurs when reporting practices cause survivors to relive their traumatic experiences, triggering emotional distress and undermining their recovery.
Trauma does not stay in the past. For many survivors, memories of what happened can return suddenly and feel as if the event is happening again. A question, a sound, a place or a photograph can set this off. The person may become tearful, frightened or numb. Some go quiet or stop speaking altogether. Others may struggle to sleep or eat in the days that follow.
Journalists can trigger this without meaning to. Asking someone to describe the worst moment in detail can do it. So can asking them to repeat their story for a second reporter or a camera. Pressing for an answer when someone is clearly distressed has the same effect. The harm can also come after the interview. Seeing a face or a name in print, or reading comments from strangers, can bring the trauma back.
Retraumatisation also affects recovery. Survivors often need to feel safe, to have some control over what happens to them and to be believed. An interview that takes control away from them can undo some of that progress. It can also make them less willing to seek help or to trust anyone with their story again.
This is why trauma-sensitive reporting matters. Let the person set the pace. Explain clearly how the material will be used. Make it easy for them to pause, decline a question or stop altogether.
Worth remembering
A survivor’s distress during or after an interview is not a sign that the interview went well. It may be a sign that harm is being done.
Balancing the public’s right to know with dignity
Journalism should never become another source of suffering. Conflict reporting requires more than just courage. It requires empathy, ethical judgment and an understanding of trauma. Journalists must constantly balance the public’s right to know with a survivor’s right to dignity, privacy and safety.
It is an ethical journalism issue that protects the journalists and the people whose stories they tell. Some stories deserve to be told. But they must always be told in ways that do not deepen the wounds of those who have already suffered enough.
Worth remembering
Telling a story well includes protecting the people in it. Ethical practice in journalism protects them and protects you.
Summary
- Villages hit by conflict are fragile places. Residents may be grieving, isolated or in danger.
- Survivors of sexual violence often face stigma, so identifying them can cause lasting harm.
- Consent given in desperation, or by a relative, is not informed consent.
- Repeated questioning, immediate interviews and identifiable photographs can all retraumatise a survivor, even when the journalist means well.
- Not every story needs a face. Protecting a survivor can matter more than getting powerful pictures or an emotional interview.
- Training in trauma-sensitive reporting helps journalists avoid harm they never intended.
- When interacting with someone experiencing trauma, the aim is to avoid adding to their suffering. Their safety and recovery come before the story.
- Journalists must balance the public’s right to know with each survivor’s right to dignity, privacy and safety.
