Empowered by Hope

"I have a routine for approaching people who may kill me," Nicholas Kristof writes in his latest book, "Chasing Hope: A Reporter's Life."

Few journalists have occasion to pen these words because they rarely find themselves in life-or-death situations.

But Kristof, aged 65, is not your run-of-the-mill reporter. The intrepid New York Times investigative journalist and opinion writer has traveled to over 160 countries to document the world's worst humanitarian crises. He has covered genocides, coups d'état, civil wars, crushing poverty and famine. And he's told the stories of countless individuals caught up in these cataclysms — like young Cambodian girls sold into the sex trade and survivors of genocide in Darfur.

And the occasional warlord. If you're wondering, the survival "routine" Kristof has devised includes introducing himself to those he's meeting — you know, the guys with the AK-47s slung across their chests — Kristof's theory being that "it's harder to murder someone you've just shaken hands with." And he always wears loose clothing and running shoes should it all go sideways.

Kristof's writing — he's also co-authored five bestsellers with his wife Sheryl WuDunn, including "Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide" — has garnered numerous awards, including two Pulitzer Prizes, and well-earned praise from high places. Former President Bill Clinton has suggested that Americans "should be profoundly grateful that [Kristof] cares enough about [humanitarian crises] to haul himself all around the world to figure out what's going on."

In "Chasing Hope," Kristof chronicles four decades of "hauling himself all around the world." And, as the title implies and despite encountering some of the most heartbreaking stories on the planet, he remains an optimist.

Next Avenue caught up with Kristof recently to talk with him about his new book — and why he does what he does. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Next Avenue: You grew up on a farm in rural, working-class Oregon, attended Harvard and then you were named a Rhodes Scholar. By the time you were at Oxford in the early 1980s, you were spending your school breaks in, let's call them atypical vacation spots, like Ghana, Lebanon and Syria. Why did you choose to go to those places?

Nicholas Kristof: I was looking for adventure and also looking for ways to get bylines in newspapers. Papers would be more interested in articles from places facing catastrophes than places where everything was smooth.

And I just found it fascinating. I felt like I was learning things and the idea that I was getting paid to visit exotic countries and interview people was kind of astonishing. And the thought that I could turn this gig into a career was really amazing. So I decided I wanted to do that.

You've seen atrocities and suffering that are unimaginable to most Americans. But you say in the book, 'I came to see how writing about humanitarian crises could make lives better on a grand scale.' When did that epiphany take place — or did that understanding evolve over time?

It was more a slow evolution. In the book, I talk about, even in eighth grade, I could write about the injustice of girls not being able to wear blue jeans. And I did force the school to back down and — for an eighth grader — that was real power.

[Much later] I saw a lot of heartbreak and injustice and when you see that, you want to fight back. And the way I was equipped to fight back was with my writing and my camera.

At some level you can see that journalism can be lifesaving, that one can save lives on a large scale by getting problems addressed. That feels very rewarding when that manages to happen.

Your book includes many stories about being detained/questioned by local authorities over the years — hence your 'routine for approaching people who may kill me' noted above. But you must have been fairly petrified at times, right?

I spend a lot of my career terrified and wondering if this is the end. In writing "Chasing Hope," I belatedly realized that I probably have suffered from a mild case of PTSD. And I realized that I'd self-prescribed myself 'wilderness therapy' for this unconscious PTSD.

There's this theory that journalists rush off to danger because they're addicted to the adrenaline rush. I don't think that's right — at least in my case it's not an addiction. I'm terrified when I go to these places. But it does feel like the way we can make a difference.

You talk a lot about the friends you grew up with in the small town of Yamhill, Oregon, and how their lives turned out very differently from yours. You quote a Harvard faculty member as saying that looking down on the less educated is 'the last acceptable prejudice.' Do you think that it's true that college-educated, white-collar Americans do look down on those folks?

I do. I think there's a tendency to look down on people with less education. And I think the problems of Left Behind America just haven't been on our agenda. Like the way we lose more than 100,000 Americans a year to overdoses and yet we just tolerate it. We don't make a big national push to end this. That strikes me as unconscionable.

So I think that Americans who are struggling have some right to feel that they've been neglected and their needs ignored.

You note in the book that publishers may be more likely to run a piece on Meghan Markle than, say, famine in Somalia because, essentially, they need to keep the lights on and Meghan and Harry will get more clicks. Should journalism provide what people want to read or what we think people should read?

I think there's a balance. We have to cover news that readers are interested in or we'll go out of business. But I think we can do more than just pander and just cover things that we know have a broad audience. I think we do have an obligation to still cover important stories even if they're kind of hard and don't have a great audience.

You've seen plenty of turmoil, civil unrest, rioting and more over the decades. And you conclude that, 'We shouldn't assume that any society is immune' from that kind of chaos. Does that include the U.S.? Is our democracy in danger?

I see some risks. I don't think the U.S. is going to end up like North Korea — but could we end up a little more like Hungary or a little more like Poland before the recent elections? Yeah, I think that's possible. Could there be more political violence in U.S.? The Department of Justice and the military more politicized? Yeah, I think those are all risks.

With a lifetime of reporting on the worst humanitarian crises around the globe, you say that people expect you to be 'the Eeyore of journalists.' Yet despite all that you've witnessed, you've remained an optimist. Is that accurate?

Well, I'd say I've seen too many massacres to be a classic optimist, but I'd say I'm a battle-scarred optimist.

I think the hopefulness is based in part on a backdrop of progress that we don't always acknowledge. There's been an astounding reduction in global poverty, in illiteracy, in child mortality.

And it's also based in part on the fact that side by side with the worst in humanity, I keep coming across the very best. When there's violence and chaos you see warlords to remind you of the human capacity for evil but you also see people who respond with courage and strength and risking their lives for others.

So it's possible to come back from war-torn countries or democracy struggles really feeling inspired about the human capacity for overcoming challenges.

You make this nearly Gandhian observation in your book: 'We bear a moral obligation when we win the lottery of birth.' Is this perhaps a not-too-subtle challenge to your readers, many of whom have won that 'lottery of birth?'

I've found that my readers are quite happy to be challenged. There's such a warm feeling you get from being altruistic. So I find my readers want to help others and pay it forward and appreciate suggestions for good organizations and good ways to help.

Despair is paralyzing while hope is empowering. That's worth keeping in mind.

Marie Sherlock practiced law for a decade before turning to writing and editing in her 30s — and never looked back. She's worked as the editor of several publications and is the author of a parenting book (Living Simply with Children; Three Rivers Press). She spends her empty-nest days writing about travel trends and destinations, simplicity, spirituality and social justice issues. Read More