The Word in History, or the Responsibility of Journalism in an Era of New Meanings
Working with students is always interesting, rewarding, and instructive. It is no coincidence that the Russian words for "to teach" (uchit’) and "to learn" (uchit’sya) share the same root. A true educator does not merely teach the young and the beginners; they also learn from them.
I am reminded of Evgeniya Nikolayevna Yershova—a remarkable educator, a prominent scholar, and a wonderful human being who worked at the intersection of pedagogy and linguistics. In her monograph on pedagogy, she included a touching epigraph: "Dedicated to my teachers and my students." She was a true Teacher, in the fullest sense of the word.
…Recently, at the Institute of International Relations of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Turkmenistan, while viewing an exhibition prepared for a meeting with journalism students, I found myself reflecting on the colossal evolution that the human mind has undergone.
Here, vintage, almost primordial typewriters and the bulky cameras of the last century stood alongside state-of-the-art digital systems; newspapers and magazines—worn by time and nearly a century old—lay next to the vibrant, colorful publications created by the students. It all served as a perfect illustration of the rapid passage of time—a pace we so often, and so futilely, try to keep up with.
However, this exhibition held a deeper, more profound significance. The traditional dishes prepared by the students themselves, alongside the national costumes of the Uzbek, Kazakh, Kyrgyz, and Tajik peoples, clearly demonstrated that the future of international journalism in Turkmenistan is being shaped from the outset as a space of good-neighborliness, multilingualism, and deep respect for the cultural identity of its neighbors in the Central Asian region.
It is a pleasure to note that this vibrant student celebration served to honor the most outstanding students; they were presented with certificates of merit and commemorative gifts in recognition of their participation in academic forums and competitions—both within the country and abroad—as well as for their numerous contributions to the press.
Moreover, this "creative gathering"—as it was designated in the program—acted as a bridge into an entirely new era, one that we are living through at this very moment. This is occurring, unfortunately, during a period of global turbulence—a storm that is, in one way or another, sweeping across every corner of our planet.
We are witnessing and actively participating in something far greater than just another crisis of the kind humanity periodically faces; we are experiencing a profound civilizational shift. This marks a transition into a fundamentally different era—a new mental, spiritual, and informational dimension—where digital technologies, and artificial intelligence, first and foremost—are opening up a realm of New History for humanity.
Under these conditions, our very perception of the perennial issues of War and Peace—and of how peoples with diverse political convictions, ideological principles, religious beliefs, and so on, can coexist—is undergoing a radical transformation. In this fundamentally altered reality, it is the mass media that emerge as the primary instrument for re-evaluating the world around us and for shaping an agenda centered on peace and trust.
…The awards ceremony for journalism students, held during a meeting with aspiring international relations specialists, was preceded by two brief addresses—one from the Rector of the Institute of International Relations (IIR), Gulshat Yusupova, and one from yours truly. Without prior coordination, both of us placed significant emphasis on the themes of journalistic responsibility and professional ethics, the importance of an objective approach, and the need for precision regarding facts and word choice. And this was entirely justified.
The history of global mass media holds stark lessons about the catastrophes that have befallen people as a result of a reckless disregard for the power of the written or spoken word. And all the more so in the era of New History—which we have entered almost without realizing it—the stakes surrounding a journalist’s words, the angle of a camera lens, or even a simple, unfortunate typo have grown to a global scale.
History offers many examples of how a journalist’s pen has served as the catalyst for large-scale upheaval. One classic instance—a case where a deliberate editorial revision altered the course of world history—immediately comes to mind: the Ems Dispatch of 1870, an event with dramatic and far-reaching consequences.
The telegram, which concerned negotiations between the French ambassador and the Prussian king, was entirely peaceable in tone. However, Chancellor Otto von Bismarck intentionally struck several phrases from the text, shortening it in such a way that both sides—the French and the Prussians alike—were left with the distinct impression that they had been insulted by the other.
Published in the press in such a truncated form, this dispatch ignited a storm of national outrage, which, within just a few days, escalated into the Franco-Prussian War—a conflict that completely redrew the map of Europe. It serves as a classic example of how the manipulation of a text by the media can set an entire continent ablaze.
We also know that, at the height of the Cold War, the then-Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev, while speaking before foreign diplomats, uttered a phrase that Western news agencies translated literally as "We will bury you!"
In the context of the Russian language, however, this was an idiomatic expression, meaning simply that, from a historical perspective, socialism would outlive capitalism. Yet, in the English-language press, the phrase appeared under headlines suggesting a direct military threat—the physical annihilation of the West.
This linguistic inaccuracy intensified the standoff between two great powers for years to come, triggered a new round in the arms race, and nearly brought the world to a nuclear confrontation during the Cuban Missile Crisis.
Even a simple choice of camera angle can prove to be a fateful turn of events—as was the case with the filming of a camp near the settlement of Trnopolje, in northwestern Bosnia and Herzegovina. In the early 1990s, the Balkans became the epicenter of a severe crisis, and the international situation surrounding Yugoslavia was incredibly tense. During that period, the UN Security Council adopted numerous resolutions concerning the region, yet none of them provided a direct mandate for a military operation against Yugoslavia.
Moreover, people in a number of European countries did not support military intervention, fearing serious consequences. However, attitudes toward the Bosnian crisis shifted dramatically when a photograph appeared on the front pages of newspapers and magazines worldwide, showing a gaunt, shirtless man—a Bosnian named Fikret Alić—standing behind barbed wire.
The image shocked readers, immediately evoking associations with Nazi concentration camps from the Second World War. In some publications, the visual was accompanied by headlines such as: "A concentration camp in the heart of a European country today!"
Years after the image was published, German journalist Thomas Deichmann conducted his own investigation and released an article with the striking title, "The Picture That Fooled the World," in which he revealed what had actually taken place.
A British film crew was working at a transit camp for refugees, which was enclosed by old, weathered barbed wire. In reality, the people standing on the other side of the wire—including Fikret Alić—were, according to the journalist, free to move in and out of the camp. However, the camera angle created an optical illusion, making it appear as though the people were being held captive behind the barbed wire, when in fact the fence was enclosing the film crew itself.
This optical illusion—a fence of barbed wire paired with an emotionally charged commentary—fundamentally shifted the perceptions of millions of people abroad. It is worth noting that, prior to the publication of this image, public opinion in the West had been opposed to military intervention in the Balkan crisis, and European governments had avoided deploying troops for fear of domestic unrest.
Yet, this single image—broadcast on television and reproduced across print media—completely transformed the outlook of millions of people in a matter of days. The power of the visual image was so profound that the British government cut short its holiday to convene an emergency meeting, during which a decision was made to deploy the first ground troops to Bosnia.
In the U.S. Congress, this image was used as the primary emotional justification for initiating large-scale military pressure. Ultimately, this wave of information prepared public opinion for the subsequent NATO bombing of Yugoslavia in 1999.
These events have gone down in history as a classic precedent in both international law and the theory of journalism. While in previous decades triggering such crises required deliberate, targeted publications in global media, today—in the era of artificial intelligence—any unverified digital hallucination or AI-generated fake, if crafted with sufficient realism, has the potential to crash global financial markets and incite mass panic or civil unrest.
This is precisely why young journalists and future diplomats of Turkmenistan—a nation whose neutral status has been endorsed by the global community through the UN General Assembly—face an unprecedented professional and ethical challenge.
In this day and age, journalistic excellence is measured not by the speed at which news is broadcast across digital networks, nor by the ability to skillfully manipulate algorithms, but by the profound honesty that professionals maintain—toward themselves, their country, and their readers.
While artificial intelligence can generate millions of characters per second, translate texts, and select the perfect visual angles, it is entirely devoid of compassion, cultural sensitivity, intuition, and a moral compass. As these examples demonstrate, the human factor in media has always been, and remains, the primary source of both creation and destruction.
Today, the profession of a journalist is not merely the ability to string words together; it carries a profound burden of responsibility. The future of international journalism lies with individuals capable of serving as reliable intellectual and moral filters amidst this surging torrent of information.
Constant self-improvement, an unwavering commitment to the truth, respect for history, and the realization that every written word has implications for the security and harmony between nations—these must be the guiding principles for the young generation who are shaping a New History.
…Working with students is always engaging, rewarding, and enlightening. It is no coincidence that the Russian words for "to teach" (uchit’) and "to learn" (uchit’sya) share the same root. A true educator does not merely teach the young and the novices; they also learn from them.
Bekdurdy AMANSARYEV, Center for Strategic Studies, Institute of International Relations, Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Turkmenistan
