For half of our three-week visit, we were embedded with United States Army helicopter medevac units at Bagram and Jalalabad air fields, experiences that we wrote about for the helicopter magazine that I now edit. Covering helicopter operations in Afghanistan was not the primary goal of our trip, but it was a surprisingly good means to an end — we were considerably more mobile than the average embedded reporter, and the sheer number of forward operating bases and combat outposts we visited gave us a good, wide-ranging perspective on Western military engagement in that country.

Graham and I financed the trip ourselves, and while we weren’t exactly on a shoestring budget, we weren’t on a particularly generous one, either. Neither of us had any prior experience reporting from combat zones; we figured it out as we went along. The trip was brilliant. It afforded us direct insight into a conflict that — at least in my own case — seven years of mainstream news reports had rendered vague and confusing.

It also afforded me more insight into the national character and development challenges of Afghanistan than I had managed to get from seven years of mainstream reporting. One of the things that struck me most about the war was the enormity of the gulf between Afghan civilians and the majority of Westerners operating in the country — whether as soldiers, diplomats, aid workers or, for that matter, reporters.

At remote outposts, Graham and I encountered the soldiers who were doing the hands-on business of war, and we did see one or two examples of Western initiatives that had succeeded in fostering meaningful engagement with the Afghan population. Overwhelmingly, however, the division between Westerners and Afghans was absolute. For example, at the time of our visit, the military base at Bagram had a population of about 18,000 people (about a third of whom were contractors). Few of Bagram’s “permanent” residents had ventured outside of its gates. Graham and I literally saw more of Afghanistan in three weeks than many of these soldiers had in 12-month deployments. We saw this pattern repeated on the civilian side of things in Kabul, among governmental and non-governmental aid organisations.

I returned from Afghanistan convinced that this tremendous practical disconnect between Westerners and Afghans — a division that was feeding a vicious cycle of mutual fear and hostility — was sufficient to prevent the U.S. from ever achieving its stated policy aims in the country. From a Western perspective, it may appear unforgivably foolish to walk through a Kabul market without body armor. But it doesn’t take an exceptional act of reverse projection to see that, to an Afghan, a fully armed Westerner walking among unarmed women and children is always going to be an object of contempt.

The risks of any war zone are real and constant — there’s no way around it. Yet even in places like Afghanistan, I venture to suggest that the knee-jerk “First World” suspicion of “Third World” civilians is almost always disproportionate to the actual threat. Why this discrepancy? A portion of the blame accrues unavoidably to the media, extending even to helicopter magazines.

I recently read a column by another helicopter journalist (in, it should be admitted, a competing magazine). In approximately 900 words titled “The Taxi Ride of My Life,” this reporter described the harrowing process of taking a taxicab in Kabul — from one side of the airport to the other. I quote: “Let me understand you correctly. I have got to walk out of this civilian airport and hail a taxi to get to your military side of the airport. Me, a tall British guy loaded down with all of the trappings a journalist usually packs for this venture — computer, camera, small video camera, background notes — all with the added burden of a body armor and helmet as well as my personal clothes, in one of the most dangerous countries on earth, where kidnappings are rife and improvised explosive devices (IEDs) are killing people every few days.”

Indeed. After grabbing “the nearest, least shifty looking Afghan airport security guard in view,” and trying to “maintain some authority” over his taxi driver, the author finally made it around the perimeter of the airport to the “U.S. Military Embed Team who was safe and snug on the other side of the airfield.”

I was reminded of my own (as a then a 28-year old female wearing an unaccustomed head scarf and a backpack) arrival at Kabul International Airport. As I later described in a story in my hometown newspaper: “It was not an auspicious arrival. Our driver was nowhere to be found and we spent an hour waiting for him in the car park, watching one Western contractor after another being ushered past us into their designated armored vehicles. But the Afghan taxi drivers in the car lot were entirely friendly, assisting us with cell phone calls and finally giving us a lift to the far parking lot where our driver had, in fact, been waiting for 30 minutes.” The subsequent hour-long drive to Bagram was a fascinating introduction to the country, and an opportunity to pick the brain of our driver: “Graham asked our cab driver if the Taliban was popular in this area. ‘Oh yes,’ he answered matter-of-factly.”

It is in the financial interest of news organisations to hype the intrepidness of their reporters, whether that organisation is a helicopter magazine or CNN.  A similar logic applies to contractors and NGOs operating in developing countries. Unfortunately, the self-aggrandising quality of most foreign reporting encourages “First World” citizens to view “Third World” ones as ‘shifty’ — as objects of pity, contempt or fear, rather than as  human beings. As the experience of our British journalist indicates, this influences not only the perceptions of the viewers at home, but the perceptions and actions of people in the field. The author of “The Taxi Ride of My Life” returned from Afghanistan fully convinced that a taxi ride to Bagram “would have been foolish in the extreme.” His experiences were limited accordingly. This overriding emphasis on “security” is not limited to combat zones. Graham and I witnessed the same patterns a year later while reporting from Haiti in the aftermath of that country’s devastating earthquake.

As someone with extensive tactical firearms training, I don’t consider myself particularly naïve about the existence of people who would do me harm. But I also believe in a realistic appraisal of threats. Graham put it best when he observed, “we don’t teach street smarts, we teach fear.” As citizens of “First World” nations, we’re not going to make progress in addressing development issues  without street smarts, empathy and a bit of courage.

Bagram airbase - Graham Lavery

I’m not sure what’s more dramatic: the sprawling expanse of Bagram Air Field with its 18,000 inhabitants and 24-hour activity, or the 15,000-foot peaks that look down on it. Afghanistan is a place of contrasts, and that is never more evident than when you are on a military installation. Lift the gate and grab a taxi, however, and you are in a different world — and a different time. Much of the Afghan population is still agrarian in makeup, and has been that way since the Greeks marched on Kabul.

Collateral damage - Graham Lavery

A U.S. Army flight surgeon and medic work on an 11-year-old Afghan girl who was run over by a NATO convoy, suffering major trauma and losing a foot. War is rarely discriminatory, and the “collateral damage” comes in all shapes and sizes — young children included. Many pilots and medics struggle with the numbers of children caught in the crossfire

Riding the Ramp - Graham Lavery

“Riding the ramp” on one of the 101st Airborne’s Chinooks. This is a million- dollar view, but not one that comes risk-free. The crew chief pictured here is tethered to the floor with a 12-foot length of webbing which allows for freedom of movement, but has a serious drawback — in an accident there is no seat belt. These machines and crews are the workhorses of the war, providing the lion’s share of logistical support for the Forward Operating Bases along the Pakistan border and the infamous Korengal Valley. It’s striking how similar these missions are to what I do as a working helicopter pilot in Canada, with one glaring exception — these pilots are getting shot at on a regular basis

Self Portrait - Graham Lavery

A quick self-portrait taken in the cabin of a U.S. Air Force Pavehawk before we left the friendly confines of Bagram Air Base on a Combat Search and Rescue training mission. Once out over the landscape, one quickly gets a feel for how sparse infrastructure is in Afghanistan — even with the aid of night vision goggles, there is precious little light coming from the villages and farms. The contrast is shocking flying above such a primitive country in a multi-million dollar helicopter, with night vision technology strapped to my helmet, while the only indications of life below are the odd fires, or oil lamps. It makes you wonder what the people below are thinking as they hear us fly overhead

Kabul - Graham Lavery

Arriving in Kabul after two weeks ensconced in the military establishment was certainly a refreshing change. Seeing the busy markets, frantic traffic, livestock wandering the roads, and people everywhere was a quick reminder that yes, indeed, there was an Afghan population after all. Crowded areas are of course prime targets for terrorism, as we have seen in Iraq, and being an obvious foreigner certainly demands caution. Maintaining a low profile is the best method for ensuing safety, so the added attention drawn to oneself by pointing a large camera around has to be balanced with the potential results: some photo opportunities, like those that arise from sitting in stop-and-go traffic, just aren’t worth the risk

Children - Graham Lavery

Children are the same the world over. These two curious onlookers weren’t too sure what to make of the foreigners walking around their neighborhood! In Afghanistan, as in any conflict zone, it is often the children who bear the brunt of war. Little schooling, sub-par nourishment, and high mortality rates are the major issues, leaving many children to suffer, particularly in the winter months. This pair were well fed, happy, and direct beneficiaries of the restoration work at Murad Khane, a project of the Turquoise Mountain Foundation, which had given them a place to live and their parents an opportunity to earn an income in the market outside

Lunch - Graham Lavery

Lunch Afghan-style. Having worked up a considerable appetite during the morning’s tour of Murad Khane, we spent the lunch hour as guests of the project’s Afghan engineers and laborers. Lunch is taken seriously there, with community being a priority. No take-out, as the time spent eating together has as much value as the food. Speaking of the food, while basic in nature, it is fresh, well prepared, and extremely tasty — quite a contrast to the DFAC meals of Bagram Air Base

IED - Graham Lavery

The result of an Improvised Explosive Device, or IED. The method responsible for a large percentage of NATO troops losses, and infrastructure damage. Afghanistan is one of the most heavily armed countries on Earth, a morbid legacy from decades of constant war. Hwy 1, the main road in the country running from Kabul South to Kandahar, is a prime target for Taliban and other anti-NATO forces. While Western militaries have taken steps to up-armor the Humvee, and acquire more heavily protected troop carries, the reality of the situation is that IEDs can, and are, adapted very easily. The more armored the target, the bigger the IED. The day after this photo was taken, three Canadian soldiers were killed in an armored vehicle by and IED, the first casualties in three months. This is certainly a war being contested between high-tech, and low-tech, combatants

Red Desert - Graham Lavery

A U.S. State Department Huey returning to Kandahar over the Red Desert after a day’s flying in the Helmand Valley. The Valley is where 95 percent of the Afghan poppy crop is cultivated, so the counter-narcotics operations are quite active in the area. The prime growing season is February to May, so that’s when P.E.F., or Poppy Eradication Force, is in action. Using both ground units and Huey-borne air assets, the P.E.F.’s goal is to help impose the “rule of law” in the area by trying to limit poppy cultivation. With the poppy fields extending into the millions of acres, this is not a easy task, and one that may never succeed entirely — but sometimes the show is as important as the result. The political situation on the ground is extremely complex, with cultural, religious, and traditional factors playing a huge part in what gets done, and how. With a huge portion of the Afghan GDP coming from poppy cultivation, there needs to be a viable alternative before the poppy can be removed