Journalism or crisis tourism? How a war reporter became the news (2024)

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The camera is pointed directly at him. Paul Ronzheimer wears white headphones, Western clothes and glasses. The outfit makes him stand out immediately here. Behind him sit hundreds of men and boys in traditional Afghan dress, some pushing past him, giving him curious and hostile looks. «We have to be a little careful,» Ronzheimer says to his «Bild TV» colleagues back in the studio. «There are also high-ranking Taliban here. The situation is always a bit dicey.» When the «Bild» anchor back in Berlin asks how he feels as the only journalist among a crowd of terrorists, he answers: «Patrizia, that's our job.»

The fact that the deputy editor-in-chief of «Bild» is one of the last Western journalists on the ground after the Taliban took power is no coincidence. «Bild» is Germany's highest-circulation newspaper. The tabloid is full of sensationalist headlines, right-wing politics, and edgy reporting. It often draws criticism from the German journalism establishment, not to mention left-wing politicians.

Right now, Ronzheimer is the paper's best-known journalist, an old-school war correspondent who seems happiest where the action is the hottest. His war-zone broadcasts for «Bild TV,» the paper's spinoff subscription-only news channel, have made him a household name in Germany over the past few weeks. When Kabul fell to the Taliban, he was one of the few German-speaking journalists left reporting live from the Taliban-controlled Afghan capital.

A native of northwestern Germany, Ronzheimer has made entering places others are rushing to leave his trademark: He’s reported from eastern Ukraine, Turkey, Venezuela, Syria, Iraq and Nagorno-Karabakh, always accompanied by cameras and headlines like: «In the trenches with the Ukrainian army» or «As horrifying as it gets.» His work has been dismissed by some as crisis tourism, while others call him a hero. In an interview from Kabul, Ronzheimer says he wishes he had more competition from Germany's better-funded public stations.

Mr. Ronzheimer, it's late evening in Kabul. Where are you right now?

At a hotel, with an old friend who tells me the latest rumors. Tomorrow, the Taliban will probably name their Supreme Leader. Let's see which ex-terrorist from Guantánamo takes over.

Do you have any idea who it will be?

Yeah, pretty much. They’ll make Hibatullah Akhundzada Supreme Leader.

You sound relaxed.

It's often like that after days like these. My day was extremely surreal. I was at a Taliban victory celebration — 2,000 fighters and terrorists were together, me in the middle of it, and we were broadcasting live. It was probably the first time many of these people saw someone coming from the West. During a day like that you generate a lot of adrenaline. In the evening the tension subsides. At the same time, I also feel safer in Afghanistan these days, because I notice that the Taliban have a great interest in being talked about in the West. But that can change, too.

Most journalists have left Afghanistan. Are you the only reporter in the hotel?

No, there are some freelance journalists here, plus a BBC reporter, and I've met Italian, Spanish, and Japanese journalists too.

Why do you think the German-language public broadcasters, with their large budgets and their many talking heads, often do not report from the crisis areas, but from outside?

This is inexplicable to me. I know that there are reporters at both ARD and ZDF [Germany’s top two publicly-funded TV stations] who would like to report from here. But the bureaucracy, risk aversion, and insensitivity of these stations prevents them from having reporters on the ground. I think this is a disaster. Why can my BBC colleagues report from here, and not the ARD’s reporter?* No one understands that. Other German reporters would like to, but they get tangled up in all the red tape and liability questions back home.

You've traveled to most of the world’s crisis zones: Brazil when the jungle was burning, Minsk when Belarusians were demonstrating against the dictatorship. Now you're on the ground in Afghanistan. How does the planning for such trips work? Do you travel with bodyguards?

Actually, I never travel with security — it’s smartest to keep a low profile. This also applies here in Kabul. After the return of the Taliban, getting here was tough. At first we wanted to enter the country with auxiliary planes of the Bundeswehr. Everything went wrong. We made it into the country on a Qatari military plane from Doha in the end. When we landed in Kabul, the Americans said: «You have to go back.» Finally I flew via Moscow to Tashkent, where we rented a car. In twelve hours we were at the border. We were very lucky to be allowed through. In another fourteen hours, we were in Kabul.

How do the Taliban fighters treat you?

Skeptical is probably too nice a way of putting it. Generally, they’re pretty hostile. Think about it: The Taliban fought us for 20 years and learned that you should kill Western-looking people — they were actually trained to do just that. This, of course, has to do with propaganda. Taliban leaders have been saying for weeks that there was going to be amnesty for local forces. This is repeated mantra-like. It wasn't that much different in 1996, though. Back then, the Taliban said they would respect women's rights, too. We know how that turned out.

Before you entered Afghanistan, the Taliban threatened, kidnapped, and even murdered several journalists there. Among other things, they hunted down employees of Deutsche Welle (DW), and shot a relative of a DW journalist dead.

You have to make a distinction between journalists who come from the West and Afghan nationals. Local journalists remain at great risk. For Western journalists, at least for now, it's less awkward. The Taliban have a great interest in communicating with us. What is lies and propaganda remains be seen.

What is your impression?

There are different factions within the Taliban. There are those who want to negotiate with the West. And others who say: If we become too moderate, our people will jump ship and we will strengthen the Islamic State (IS). It’s not possible yet to say how this internal conflict will play out.

Aren't you afraid?

In fact, I am rarely afraid. But I do have respect for the danger. IS has concrete plans to attack. For journalists, the greatest danger is being kidnapped by gangsters or by IS members. I think that's the bigger danger right now, rather than the Taliban suddenly turning on you. But the question, of course, is: How long will the Taliban tolerate our critical reporting?

How do you rate the reporting on Afghanistan by colleagues who are not on the ground? Or to put it another way: What can you deliver that they can't?

What you can only feel if you're here is the fear, and the attitude of the population towards the Taliban. You can't meet people who have gone into hiding in person. Then there’s politics: I have contact with politicians. That contact doesn't work over the phone. What strikes me is that some other media outlets make a pompous announcement out of every call to a local official. And the tone always amounts to: «The mass executions have begun.» Have there actually been mass executions yet, though? Is there any evidence of them? All these questions can only be answered on the spot.

Your answer?

My impression so far is that mass executions like the ones that took place in the mid-1990s have not yet occurred, at least not in Kabul. What there are are arrests. A lot of people are in jail. It's unclear what will happen to them, whether or not they'll be executed under Shariah law. The Taliban have no interest in antagonizing the West right now. Now it's all about raking in millions of dollars from the West for them to hand out to their followers. Things will probably develop more slowly than last time. But I don't trust the Taliban. Their ideology hasn't changed.

Do you also meet people who think the Taliban are OK, people who are actually glad they took power?

Absolutely. There is a misperception in the West based on wishful thinking: We thought everyone was happy when the Americans installed this great government. In fact there was an extreme frustration with corruption, with the warlords, and with the police. At the same time, the reality was many people became poorer. A kind of bubble of rulers, diplomats and other international visitors formed in Kabul. I actually think that the number of those who think the change of power is good is quite substantial — for now. People think Shariah law would be good. Because then, they say, there would be no more crime. However, you also have to understand that hardly anyone would speak negatively about the Taliban right now, in public anyway.

In Germany, you are also repeatedly criticized for your reporting trips and showered with criticism. You are accused of being a «glory hound» whose only real contribution to the news is that «Bild» is on site with Paul Ronzheimer.

I hardly read such criticism anymore because I find it so absurd. Especially in the case of Afghanistan: I was there for four weeks before Kabul fell, I talked to the Taliban. I’ve travelled to the country again and again over the last decade, and done interviews with politicians. To accuse me of being a glory hound or crisis tourist is preposterous. Above all, it shows some journalists are desperate to find anything to pin on me or «Bild.» As far as they’re concerned, it cannot — and must not — be the case that «Bild,» of all papers, are on the spot when others are not. This has a lot to do with jealousy. As a journalist, you have to be persistent, and many colleagues lack that drive.

But «Bild» has also created a real cult of personality around you. In Ukraine, the paper claimed you influenced the course of world history, and recently a news anchor said the German chancellor should take pride in your achievements.

A tabloid always has to put a face on things. If there's a reporter on the scene, that, too, makes the situation more personal. But if you watch the documentary about my Afghanistan reporting trip, for example, it shows how intensively we deal with this country. Sure, making myself a character is a matter of taste. But if you don't like it, you don't have to tune in to our coverage and you don't have to pay for it. That’s not a choice you have with public television. Tabloid-style journalism is important because it gives readers and viewers someone to take them by the hand and introduce tough topics. This works best when it’s done by reporters readers trust. In Germany, this journalism is celebrated when it comes from CNN. That's great, they say. But when «Bild» does the same thing, we’re denounced.

You can often be seen wearing a helmet or even local traditional garb. Are these costumes part of the show, or are they really necessary?

The clothes were necessary. My contacts in Afghanistan advised me to wear them. That was about four weeks before the capture of Kabul. At the checkpoints we had to get through, it was important that my clothes didn’t immediately give me away.

How do your bosses react now when you explain that you're flying to Kabul?

We do an in-depth risk analysis, plus I have local contacts everywhere. Research often takes weeks to prepare. Finally, we come to a decision, together with our publisher. It's not a suicide mission, it's all well planned. The trip there was also perfectly organized, although it sounds chaotic. But as a private company, a trip like this is a big investment. I'm not saying: «Hi, I'm going to go over there and see if I can find a rental car.»

Are you prepared for violence?

I have taken several risk assessment courses. But you can't really prepare for situations like that. Still, I don't want to stand in front of a green wall in a hotel room, like some other journalists, and say: «This is Kabul now.» I want to give an authentic impression. And that means I need to get out on the street and talk to people.

Now you are sitting in Kabul. In seven days you might be in Berlin eating at «Borchardt.» What do these extreme changes do to you?

That's not easy to cope with. It does happen that I have nightmares back home in Berlin, things like that. In general, I subordinate everything to the fascination of being a reporter. I want to be where world history is being made, and I want to report on it. When I am in the field, I am so obsessed with the story that I sleep very little — sometimes just three to four hours each night.

*Editor's note: Since this interview, more reporters from German-language outlets have arrived in Kabul, including journalists from public TV channel ARD.