On October 10, 2022, Richard Stone was in Ukraine reporting on plans to turn the city of Slavutych into a science center devoted to decommissioning Chornobyl’s destroyed nuclear reactor. Stone, former international news editor and now senior international correspondent for Science, was traveling with a group of researchers from Kyiv to Chornobyl when a cruise missile suddenly streaked across the blue sky, from what seemed like only 100 feet above them, followed by two others. The attack was one of Russia’s largest missile strikes since its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February of that year. “It brought home very up close and personal what was going on in the war,” he says.
In Ukraine, Gaza, Sudan, and countless other places, unrest is ever-present around the world. In conflicts, human and environmental disasters often go hand in hand. Communities face the fallout of food and clean-water shortages and poor access to healthcare, alongside extensive death tolls. The tools of warfare, including bombs and tanks, degrade the environment. And conflict stalls the scientific enterprise itself when researchers’ lives are upended and academic infrastructure is damaged or deliberately attacked.
These are critical science stories to tell. “We shouldn’t shy away from these topics,” says Berlin-based freelance science journalist Layal Liverpool. Too often, coverage of conflicts overlooks their deeper impacts on health and science. In Venezuela, for example, power and water outages have derailed and continue to disrupt daily life for communities, but reporting from many outlets has focused more on the political disputes fueling those crises rather than their consequences, says Prodavinci reporter Luisa Salomón. “The real humanitarian crisis continued to deepen.” For Salomón and other journalists living where conflicts are unfolding, covering these stories is also personal: “It’s a part of us,” she says.
To find and tell science stories from regions in turmoil, international and local journalists alike have to dig for unique angles, gather and verify context about conflicts, track down and protect sources, and, above all, stay safe in areas where journalists might be targets of violence.
Unearthing Science Stories
War can bring to light a myriad of science stories, from environmental destruction to health issues, such as disease outbreaks and the physical and psychological harms of violence. Covering science stories from within a conflict zone helps reporters go deeper than the immediate outcomes of war.
One important angle is how conflicts stunt scientific research in the regions where they unfold. Academic institutions and other facilities might fall in the crosshairs of attacks, leading to displaced researchers, destroyed labs, and interrupted experiments, such as in the Israel-Gaza war. In Ukraine, researchers and the founders of the Ukrainian science outlet Kunsht have created Science at Risk, a digital platform chronicling the destruction of scientific infrastructure and efforts to rebuild. You can comb through the resource’s collection of reported stories, white papers, and a list of projects and infrastructure affected by Russia’s full-scale invasion. The platform also houses a database of Ukrainian scientists searchable by different topics.
To find scientists affected by conflict in other regions, journalists can follow updates from scientific institutions in those areas as well as country-specific national academies of science. Covering interesting science that’s still happening despite precarious conditions both strengthens the scientific enterprise and keeps readers informed. “The interests we [journalists] had before the full-scale invasion, they didn’t disappear,” says Olesia Pavlyshyn, a Ukrainian science journalist and editor-in-chief of Kunsht. “We still need [stories] about vaccinations or the development of physics in Ukraine.”
Stories coming out of war-torn regions inevitably need to go beyond the science and reflect the context of conflicts.
Another source of stories is the vast literature exploring the impacts of conflicts. The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization and the World Bank Group, for example, release reports compiling analyses about conflict-related ramifications, such as damage to the Ukrainian science sector and food insecurity in Yemen, respectively. And the World Health Organization runs news releases covering health concerns in Lebanon, Gaza, and other regions.
You can also search academic databases for studies, reviews, and commentaries, including those on the environmental consequences of war or the reemergence of polio in Gaza. Reading through literature spurred a reporting trip to Iran for Stone, after he came across a paragraph about Iranian researchers investigating the long-term health impacts of chemical weapons used in the Iran-Iraq war in a 2017 U.S. National Academies report. His resulting 2018 Science story covered the molecular effects of sulfur mustard, three decades after the chemical was unleashed.
Finding unique angles like this refreshes tired coverage, especially in regions where fatigued readers have been witnessing the same conflicts for years. “If you live in hell, the heat isn’t news,” Salomón says. Similarly, science stories in the midst of conflict don’t always have to be negative. Journalists can search for solutions stories that highlight hope and innovation. In Gaza, for example, a humanitarian organization helped 3D-print tourniquets and stethoscopes, and in Yemen, a women-run solar station powers local communities. In Ukraine, the media outlet Rubryka aggregates and publishes stories on local solutions, such as an app delivering kid-friendly therapy, a mobile gynecological clinic and unmanned robots designed to rescue wounded soldiers and civilians.
Gathering Context
Stories coming out of war-torn regions inevitably need to go beyond the science and reflect the context of conflicts: What’s at the root of unrest? What are the different “sides,” who are the main figures, and what’s important to them? How do these details influence research, health, or environmental concerns? In gathering this information, make sure to leave your assumptions about a conflict behind. “You’re there to understand what’s going on,” says Andrew Lawler, who covers archaeology as a contributing correspondent for Science.
Remember that many sources in conflict zones have experienced trauma, from losing their homes and livelihoods to losing loved ones.
Government officials or local agency heads can provide reporters with background information on a conflict. That said, journalists should corroborate details in government statements with outside sources, Lawler says. Reach out to nonprofits without a direct stake in the conflict, which can help you find reliable sources. That helps you “get a little bit of ground truth, so that you’re not just spouting a government line,” he says.
When searching for stats from a region, such as death tolls and infection rates, keep in mind that these data are often evolving, and their accuracy might be questionable, depending on the region. In Gaza, for example, the destruction of hospitals and other infrastructure makes estimating the number of fatalities extremely difficult. And some governments may intentionally exclude or misrepresent data to mislead the public. Verify stats with multiple sources, says New York Times global health reporter Stephanie Nolen, who also recommends using data from the United Nations. For her reporting on famine in Gaza, Nolen says she also sought information from the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification initiative.
Broadening your sources beyond scientists and government officials also grounds a story with context. Casting a wide net “gives you a view that this is more nuanced than [it] might seem from a Nature paper,” says Sara Reardon, a freelance journalist who has previously covered science in the aftermath of tensions in Colombia and Cuba. For a 2018 Nature story on the psychological roots of violence, for example, researchers helped Reardon set up interviews with former militants. When abroad, Reardon also made a habit of talking with sources out in the communities she covers, such as hotel staff or people who want to practice English. These interactions helped Reardon grasp feelings about conflicts that were “bubbling under the surface” she says.
Reaching and Protecting Sources
Interviewing sources in conflict zones comes with extra challenges, from logistical barriers to safety considerations. Crumbling infrastructure could make for spotty internet connections or unreliable phone service. Or sources might have fled to remote locations where neither is readily available. Try alternative communication methods that allow for extra time and aren’t dependent on a real-time connection, such as swapping voice memos.
Sometimes, the best way to report these stories is in person, where you can track down sources and glean vivid details that you can’t obtain from afar.
In some cases, it may be prohibited or dangerous for researchers to communicate through email, especially if they’re living under authoritarian regimes. This was the case for Stone when he wanted to talk to volcanologists and seismologists in North Korea for a 2011 story on the threat of Mount Paektu erupting. Instead of reaching out directly, he communicated with these researchers through their connections in other regions. Journalists can also opt for communication platforms with end-to-end encryption, such as Signal or WhatsApp.
Remember that many sources in conflict zones have experienced trauma, from losing their homes and livelihoods to losing loved ones. The effects of the war in Ukraine were clear to Liverpool when talking with Ukrainian scientists who’d returned to their work after serving on the frontlines. “These are just scientists who are really passionate about their work, like any scientist, but at the same time they’re navigating the difficulty of the war and worrying about their families,” she says. Start off with easy questions such as where they’re from and what kind of work they do. Then build up to more sensitive ones slowly, and be ready to back off if your source shows signs of distress.
Your sources’ safety might also be at risk. Take time to explain journalistic norms, such as the use of first and last names and what’s considered “on the record,” and confirm what information your sources comfortable with sharing. For hesitant sources, build rapport by sharing examples of sensitive stories you’ve reported and discuss the digital security measures you plan to use. “It goes a long way for people to trust they can tell you their story, because in these situations, telling the story can be a death sentence,” Lawler says.
Putting Boots on the Ground
Sometimes, the best way to report these stories is in person, where you can track down sources and glean vivid details that you can’t obtain from afar. With any international reporting trip, advance preparation is key. But when traveling to regions experiencing conflict, your safety and security depend on it.
All around the world, journalist deaths have spiked, according to a 2024 report published by the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ). One hundred thirty-seven journalists and counting have been killed in relation to their work due to the Israel-Gaza war, according to CPJ data. And in many other regions, journalists are encountering hostility. “It is not a healthy situation to work [in], because all the people are afraid,” says science journalist Shihab Jamal, who says he had to flee his home country of Yemen when the government started arresting citizens with ties to the West, including Western media.
Before arranging travel, gather as much intelligence as possible about the areas you plan to visit. Lawler recommends keeping a close eye on the latest developments in a conflict, studying governmental structures and hierarchies, and verifying information with multiple sources whenever possible. On one reporting trip to Afghanistan, for example, Lawler traveled to a region one source had told him was safe only to have a close call with the Taliban. Learn as much of the region’s language as possible ahead of time, Nolen says. Even knowing a little bit can help iron out any communication mishaps and make for smoother and shorter interviews.
At all times, reporters should judge the tradeoffs between the risks and getting the story, keeping safety as the top priority.
Prepare for logistical barriers and red tape: Allow for extra time to get visas approved and look into alternative travel plans in case your plans are derailed while en route. As you enter conflict zones, you might also encounter increased measures of border control or security, which can eat into your reporting time.
Once you’re on the ground, make decisions with safety in mind. Stay in close proximity to researchers and other trusted sources, and avoid being alone. Traveling with sources “who have a lot of experience with the logistics of visiting these places and a lot of connections in the community is always the best thing you can do,” says Lizzie Wade, freelance journalist and contributing correspondent for Science. When she traveled to Colombia’s Gulf of Urabá in 2018, for example, she stayed with the geologists she was covering. Though guerilla occupation there had ended, the region still seemed a bit “lawless and ungoverned,” she recalls.
Journalists can also partner with local reporters or hire “fixers” to help them navigate unfamiliar areas and feel out cultural norms. Following a region’s rules, including the unspoken ones, can help keep you out of trouble. That said, it’s important to plan for worst-case scenarios. Wade established a safe word with the Pulitzer Center, which funded her 2018 trip, in case she was kidnapped. And Stone suggests letting your country’s embassy know of your reporting trip and keeping your editors updated on your itinerary.
For local journalists living amidst conflict and trying to cover it at the same time, establishing a solid support network is key. In Venezuela, “the risk is very high,” Salomón says, but her colleagues give her courage. “Venezuelan journalism would not have survived and would not be here now if it were not for the fact that there is a large group that keeps pushing and supporting each other,” she says.
At all times, reporters should judge the tradeoffs between the risks and getting the story, keeping safety as the top priority. “I’m scared a lot of the time,” Nolen says. “But if I am somewhere where I’m scared, it’s because I’ve done that analysis and decided this thing that we’re going to try to get or find out or see or confirm, is worth it.” These judgment calls can be tough—they require a gut instinct that you can only get through experience in reporting from hostile conditions, according to Nolen. “There’s not a good course you can take in college that will teach you,” she says. “I learned by doing it.”
Claudia López Lloreda is a science journalist with a focus on neuroscience, mental health, and psychology. She received her bachelor’s degree in cellular-molecular biology from the University of Puerto Rico, Rio Piedras, and her PhD in neuroscience from the University of Pennsylvania. She was the 2021 Mass Media Fellow at STAT, worked as a news intern for Science, and is now a full-time freelancer. Her work has also appeared in Wired, Undark, Scientific American, Smithsonian Magazine, and Science News. She is currently based in New York, where she is an intern at The Transmitter.