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Kayleigh Long
@ayleighk
Freelance Journalist, Editor and Researcher.
Kayleigh long is an Australian freelance journalist, editor, and researcher whom spent her time between 2013 – 2018 based in Yangon, Myanmar, after the pre-publication censorship was lifted in 2012. Keen interests in human rights and what’s fair lead her to cover the country’s acclaimed 2015 elections which were the first openly contested elections held since 1990. Long was working at the Myanmar times for several years prior to working as a full-time freelancer, and now has extensive experience working for local and international outlets including the likes of GQ and National Geographic.
Kayleigh Long is now based in London and has keen interests in conflict and post-conflict reporting. Long is also the publisher of The War for Truth in Myanmar’s Cyberspace which has gained in excess of 10M reads.
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Which conflict zones did you work in and which made the most lasting impact and Why?
Rakhine State was the main focus of my reporting for a number of years, and I continue to follow things from a distance. it was simultaneously both pre- and post-conflict, only insofar as there wasn't large-scale violence going on while I was there. I covered the elections there in 2015. In 2016 and 2017 things really blew up. Rakhine State -- and in particular its internment camps, the ghetto, and the cut-off villages -- is far and away the place that has made the most lasting impact. It's not like you're seeing people getting killed, but there's a very real element of moral injury that comes from seeing a situation that dire and hearing first-hand accounts of horrific abuses in a situation where there is total impunity. It doesn't do wonders for your faith in humanity.
How did it make you feel reporting on the conflict?
When I was successfully reporting and publishing on what was going on, and I was able to do something with the information I was receiving, I felt like I was doing something positive and worthwhile. There are people who are desperate to let the world know what's happening to them, and I think it's a moral imperative to do that whenever possible. The lowest times were when editors just weren't interested (which was pretty much constant), or projects fell apart. I felt like I'd let people down, in some cases people who'd taken personal risk to speak to me. It's common to feel guilty about feeling upset or affected by reporting on such situations -- after all, surely the only people with any real right to feel bad are those who are being persecuted. I generally think of trauma as radiation. Even if you're only reporting on it second-hand, you still get a bit of it. But it's about having the right coping mechanisms in place.
Do you think reporting violence/suffering overseas damaged you in any way, physically or mentally?
Not in any lasting sense. Mentally: I remember being stuck in Australia in 2017, in the thick of the Rohingya crisis, as I'd had some immigration problems and had to leave Burma very suddenly. And obviously no one I knew in Sydney really knew much or cared about the genocide; it made me a real bummer to talk to. I was pretty depressed, which I attribute to feeling useless/helpless. Physically: By the time I left Myanmar I was pretty hypervigilant. I took my young cousins to Disneyland in Hong Kong in 2018 and I went on a rollercoaster and felt nothing -- no adrenaline. That was when I realised how thoroughly I'd shot my system, so had to really double my efforts to get back to a healthy baseline.
Where there ever times you couldn’t cope?
I would say there were times that I definitely wasn't coping. I got burned out. This was due to a number of stresses, often about finances. When things started to deteriorate politically in Myanmar there was the constant feeling of being on-edge (perhaps partly because journalists are heavily surveyed), and that took time to shake. 2017 was a real low point -- I think for a lot of us who worked there, there was this feeling of "this was the most predictable genocide in history" and yet, it was unstoppable.
​Can you remember any times in which you wanted to intervene in what you were witnessing?
Yes, you get thrown moral quandaries all the time, and sometimes it's heart-wrenching not to intervene. But I know how crucial impartiality is -- particularly in situations where one group is being persecuted. In the Rohingya camps I would often be asked for money. I remember once in a camp a woman was on the ground begging me to look at her sick son, then when my translator told her I wasn't a doctor, she said: "Oh great, another journalist." But in this situation, the problem was institutional. I could have given her money for medicine (many journalists did), but what her son needed was medical care. When I was able to alert an aid organisation or the UN to something being amiss, like this woman's inability to access a clinic, I felt I had done my job.
What did you do to cope at the time?
When I lived in Burma I definitely drank to excess, as did many other journalists. That was partly due to the kind of grotesque expat culture, but in hindsight that was definitely something I seized on as a way of numbing myself. After I left Burma, I started hiking, meditating, and trying to do other things that were generally more positive. Being able to talk things out with people who understand is important.
Did you ever doubt the value of what you were doing as a journalist?
Yes, all the time. I wondered if fighting to try and make what is fundamentally an unsustainable, broken business model (freelancing) work was the right thing to do. I often spent my own money and would end up out of pocket. I had to ask, who was it really for?
How about your colleagues?
No one who reported there on human rights issues walked away unscathed, I don't think. Having friends who had gone through similar experiences, whether with INGOs or in journalism, made all the difference. Being able to talk about it is a way of processing
If you had a strong emotional response was its short term or long term?
Both. But managing that properly is part of ensuring it doesn't become long- long-term. I think things like getting enough sleep and other basic self-care are the difference between your brain putting something through the shredder and in the bin, as opposed to sticking it on the fridge, so to speak. I think the day that you don't have an emotional response is the day you need to take a break.
How did it make you feel to try and describe what you saw to an audience who knew nothing about the culture or context of the country?
I think spending a decent amount of time in a country is invaluable, and there are applicable lessons you'll take forward to everywhere you go thereafter -- even in terms of how you report in your own country. It's endlessly frustrating to see what ends up on the cutting room floor, the stuff that editors deem to be too 'in the woods' for readers.
Did you ever feel you should give up and join an NGO?
It would depend on the NGO. In general, I'm hesitant to do so, because I'm stubbornly clinging to the hope that I'll be able to make freelance journalism sustainable. But so far, 3 years in, it really isn't. For now, I have my health and no dependents, and I have a vague sense of what it is I'm trying to build. At some point, though, I'll probably have to give up. Financially speaking, I'd be better off working at McDonalds.
Do you still believe reporting in foreign places make a difference and how does it make a difference? Yes, I believe wholeheartedly in the value of solutions-minded ground reporting, and of the importance of things being on the record. Sadly, few outlets support this in any meaningful way.
What is the value do you think of reporting suffering/violence from overseas for a domestic audience?
To be honest, I don't really care about what international audiences think -- that's the job of editors. Making some boomer fret for humanity over their morning coffee doesn't really matter. To me it's about getting things on the record and trying to convey with as much nuance as possible what's going on. You write in the hope that it might affect change on the policy front and be reference material for future inquiries and research. I believe wholeheartedly in trying to get things on the record. Maybe in times of crisis good reporting can move civilians to donate or petition their representatives. It can make people think harder about how and where they spend their money while traveling. It can make them question supply chains. Audiences matter because they click on things or subscribe, and that in turn informs (if not drives) editorial priorities.
Have you got Any tips for someone else entering the field?
-Be rich? Ha! Ask people out for coffee. The worst thing they can say is no. Ensuring source protection as much as possible is important. Know what resources are available for helping extract people if need be. Have friends who aren't journalists. Try to listen at least twice as much as you talk. Take digital security seriously, for you and your sources. Assume anything on social media or email could be cracked and made public. If something is sensitive, try use fresh devices or better yet talk in person. Always take notes, take photos. Photos, even bad ones, can be useful later on for adding colour to a story, to help jog your memory. Always keep a timeline, for every story. Any key events, grab the dates, put 'em on there. It's an invaluable resource. Carry a doorstop when you travel, because men are pigs. Knowing your door is at least somewhat secure helps you get a good night's sleep. There are a lot of great resources out there - ACOS, IWMF, Rory Peck, RISC -- keep an eye out for free trainings. Do a HEFAT course. Develop a niche that you're interested in. Cultivate one you don't give a shit about that pays the bills. Trust your gut. If you're in a situation and your instincts are telling you it's time to go, then it's time to go. LinkedIn, despite being the most pointless of social networks, is useful for finding names of editors in the absence of a masthead.