Maybe those special snowflakes masquerading as so-called journalists should be shipped off to some safe place, given teddy bears and coloring books and shown Sesame Street re-runs until they feel better.
Buckhorn’s remarks at the Special Operations Industry Conference quickly became fodder for the Facebook page of Military Reporters & Editors, which represents about 300 journalists.
“Personally, I was appalled,” wrote Susan Katz Keating, a freelance writer and organization board member who was in the conference room Tuesday for Buckhorn’s keynote address. Katz Keading had guns pointed at her while covering unrest in Northern Ireland in 1988.
Buckhorn said his critics are being overly sensitive. “I think that is a silly reaction,” he said of those upset by a story he has told “a dozen times.”
But some journalists in the room said they weren’t being thin-skinned. No skin is thick enough to stop a bullet or bomb blast, something Daily Beast national security reporter Kim Dozier knows all too well.
In 2006, she was nearly killed in a car bombing that took the life of the U.S. Army officer her team was filming Capt. James Alex Funkhouser, along with his Iraqi translator and Dozier’s CBS colleagues Paul Douglas and James Brolan.
“As someone who had been under fire once or twice, and lost two colleagues to a car bomb in Iraq that nearly killed me, I didn’t appreciate the remarks,” said Dozier, who wrote a book about her experiences and efforts to recover. “The mayor probably didn’t realize how many of the reporters in the room had risked their lives to bring Americans the story of U.S. troops in the field, including veterans-turned-journalists with prior special ops service.”
At the conference, Buckhorn told a crowd of more than 1,000 commando and defense industry leaders about his experience as a “hostage” during a demonstration of special ops rescue tactics. The highlight, he said, was when he was aboard a Navy special warfare boat, firing blanks from 50-caliber machine guns.
“And so the first place I point that gun is at the media,” he told the crowd. “I’ve never seen grown men cry like little girls, for when that gun goes off those media folks just hit the deck like no one’s business. It’s great payback. I love it.”
No one actually ducked or cried as he was firing the blanks. And Buckhorn, whose father was a wire service reporter, enjoys an unusually positive relationship with the local press.
So some journalists were both irked and puzzled by his comments.
“Mayor Buckhorn’s decision to casually insult reporters…was particularly regrettable when placed in the context of (Department of Homeland Security Secretary) John Kelly’s remarks to President Trump about using a sword against journalists, and the President’s own reported desire to lock up reporters,” said Sean Naylor, who has come under fire during his nearly three decades of covering the military.
Like other reporters in the room, Naylor realized that Buckhorn was playing to an audience and said he “wasn’t losing any sleep” over the remarks. But it was “unfortunate that Mayor Buckhorn chose to get a few cheap laughs by implying that somehow reporters were cowards adverse to physical danger,” Naylor said.
Since 2001, nearly 1,000 journalists worldwide, including nine so far this year, have been killed, according to the Committee to Protect Journalists.
While most of those responding on the Military Reporters & Editors Facebook page were critical of the mayor’s joke, one journalist gave a virtual shoulder shrug.
“Dangerous and inappropriate handling of a firearm,” wrote Travis Tritten, a Washington Examiner national security reporter.
But all things considered, ”I’d just wave it off.”