In the most recent wars, journalists have been seen as targets by many of the factions, writes Tom Clonan.
After 40 years of reporting conflict from Vietnam to Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan, veteran war correspondent Martin Bell observes, "By now . . . I've figured that war is really about people. I've spent enough time following American, or Australian or British troops around Vietnam, Bosnia or wherever to know that war stories are about the people, the refugees, the ordinary citizens".
This point is echoed by Irish Timescorrespondent Lara Marlowe. In discussing the difficulty of reporting war and conflict at a time of increased danger for journalists, Marlowe sums up her approach as follows, "I've always found it more worthwhile to find normal people to talk to, like housewives and teachers, or doctors or mechanics. These are the kind of people I'd mostly gravitate towards, especially in time of war. They'll tell you what's really happening. They won't give you a history lecture or a propaganda piece like many soldiers or politicians will, they'll just tell what it is really like for people to live or perhaps die in war".
Despite the fact that journalists are often deliberately targeted by combatants in today's so-called "Global War on Terror", Marlowe is adamant that determined correspondents can still get access to conflict zones and a wide range of sources without necessarily becoming "embedded" with conventional armies.
"Where there is a will there's a way. Like my colleague, Céline Hennion from Le Monde, who was trying to get to south Lebanon at the height of the war between Hizbullah and the Israelis in the summer of 2006. All the bridges over the Litani river were blown by the Israelis and there were constant air strikes on traffic moving south. While most of the press corps were stranded at the Litani, Céline just waded into the river, chest high, with her laptop perched on her head and went south for the story. It took real courage and dedication".
Marlowe, at some considerable risk to herself, did get to south Lebanon in 2006 and reported extensively for The Irish Times on the situation there and continued, even after the massacre of Lebanese civilians at Qana.
Marlowe does not share the view that western journalists - including female journalists - are no longer able to cover conflict in areas where militant Islamists hold sway.
"Iraq is obviously the contemporary example. You can still get to Baghdad without being embedded. The embassy in Paris is still giving out visas. The question is what is your life expectancy once you step out of the airport. I went in 2005 and when I did, I put on a long robe and a headscarf and went around in a plain car with no fuss. No armoured car, no armed security guards. People will still talk to you. But it is extremely dangerous."
Marlowe also describes getting into Afghanistan in the run-up to the US invasion there in 2001. "I flew to Uzbekistan and drove from there to Tajikistan. I came across very corrupt border guards who took a lot of money from me to allow me to continue on Dushanbe. Then, I got on probably a very unsafe aeroplane for Faizabad in Afghanistan and then drove in a rotten old Soviet jeep through the Panshir Valley.
"So, it can be quite an undertaking to get to conflict zones without military assistance. But if you really want to do it, I find you can."
Marlowe is aware of the particular dangers posed to western journalists by certain elements among the various fundamentalist Islamic resistance groups emerging throughout the Middle East, Africa and Asia of late. "If you look back on the Arab-Israeli wars, you could always get interviews with people. I've interviewed a lot of Palestinians whom the Israelis call terrorists. And they will talk to you. They want to get their point of view across. I've done dozens of interviews with Hizbullah. They see the value of talking to the western media. But, other groups, such as the GIA in Algeria, or some of the groups in Iraq don't want to talk to you; they want to chop your head off.
"So, that is a change. Whether or not it is unprecedented in the history of journalism, I couldn't tell you. But it is unprecedented in my lifetime as a reporter."
In addition to Islamic resistance groups, Marlowe also identifies the US military as hostile to journalists, irrespective - almost - of nationality or ethnicity.
"I suspect they don't mind if journalists get killed because it gets them out of their way. The US army killed two of my colleagues, Taras Protsyuk and José Cuoso, when they fired a tank shell at the Palestine Hotel in Baghdad. They said journalists shouldn't have been there anyway. They killed Reuters cameraman Mazen Dana outside Abu Ghraib Prison, even though the military had given him permission to be there. I've heard US soldiers in Iraq tell you that the press is losing the war for them just the way it 'lost' the war in Vietnam for the military. That is such a dangerous myth."
Despite the dangers, Marlowe describes the pain of leaving sources and contacts behind in conflict zones. "You invest so much in contacts; you get to care very deeply about them. You build up a relationship with a region. For example, after I left Lebanon, it felt like being separated from a friend or a relative."
Irish woman and veteran war reporter for the Guardian newspaper in London, Maggie O'Kane describes leaving contacts abroad as a sort of "amputation". O'Kane feels that there should be a mandatory period of "debriefing" for journalists returning from conflict zones.
"Because it is a very unhealthy environment. You sort of live on cigarettes and adrenaline. Personally though, it would be quite difficult to create the right environment for that to happen. You don't want to be debriefed by your foreign editor because you want to pretend that everything is fine. And, it should be mandatory so that you are not seen as 'having asked to see the shrink'. And the person who debriefs the journalist should not be involved in your appraisal or your employment."
In addition to the physical challenges and threats posed by war reporting, O'Kane highlights both the potential for psychological trauma and psychological healing afforded to those reporting on conflict.
"In Kosovo, I covered a really traumatic story about a whole family being assassinated and the mother trying to protect her kids with her own body. It was really very upsetting. I was haunted by the thought of this woman losing her two-year-old child in such violent circumstances." Perhaps counter-intuitively, O'Kane derived some comfort in her own crisis from the stories told to her by the victims of war in Kosovo and elsewhere. "It changed my perspective on my own loss. Losing a three-month-old foetus for example. Having just interviewed a woman who has just talked about using her body to protect her two-year-old child. And not succeeding.
"It certainly helped me psychologically to deal with my own loss. It gave me perspective. It really did."
O'Kane is sceptical of the value of being embedded with conventional military forces and describes the unseemly scrum for embedded slots among western journalists who become "seduced by tanks and helicopters and all that gung-ho nonsense.
"I've seen journalists compete in a terribly undignified way for slots on military aircraft in Iraq and Afghanistan, you know, shouting 'me, me, me' and all of that.
"I remember thinking, you can have my seat, mate, I'm going to drive there, or walk there and get the real story from the refugees on the ground. And I've done that. Maybe arriving a day later than the others, but getting some real stories on the way. I always make a point of trying to be independent and travelling on my own time with my own agenda."
O'Kane does not feel that female journalists are any less at risk than their male counterparts when reporting from hostile environments. "I had what I call my Pollyanna phase. You know, reporting in a flowery dress with just a notepad. But I know now that appearing unthreatening is quite a thin veneer of protection to have. After the deaths of three colleagues from Corriere Della Sierra, El Mundo and El País in Afghanistan in 2001, I realised that there is no such thing as calculated risk taking. They were taken from a convoy in northern Afghanistan by the Taliban and summarily executed at the roadside. I was operating nearby and I realise that it could just as easily have been me."
Irish woman Orla Guerin, the BBC's Africa Correspondent, is also highly security conscious when reporting in the field.
"When I started out as a foreign correspondent, there wasn't really a systematic approach to safety. But, that has now changed and I would say the BBC, in common with other media organisations, has become very strict. The BBC and other broadcasters have definitely become very safety attuned and security conscious."
Guerin and other colleagues at the BBC are required to undergo mandatory "hostile environments" training courses and refresher courses at regular intervals.
"Part of the first aid we are now being taught is from trauma specialists from hospital accident and emergency departments," says Guerin. "The big question for journalists is, what would you do, if God forbid, you were with a colleague who got shot or seriously injured. Could you actually save someone's life by stopping them bleeding?"
Unlike newspaper journalists, broadcast journalists are particularly conspicuous in conflict zones.
"With a big TV camera and a microphone, you stand out so much," says Guerin. "Whether you'd like to be low-key or not, say in a tense situation, often that option just isn't open. With a camera you automatically become the focus of attention and you can become the focus of anxiety and aggression very quickly also."
Dr Tom Clonan is the Irish Times Security Analyst. He lectures in the school of media, DIT.