How Jake Hanrahan Became One Of The Most Important Voices In War & Conflict Reporting

It’s a drizzly Wednesday afternoon when I meet up with Jake Hanrahan at The Standard Hotel’s Decimo Restaurant in Kings Cross. He greets me with a firm and promising handshake, one that came with a sense of familiarity, like I was a long-lost acquaintance that went missing in action. But his history may explain how he perfected the art of delivering hospitable greetings to those he’s just met: having reported on irregular warfare for close to a decade—specifically on militia forces, guerrilla warfare and paramilitaries—making a warm first impression in these types of environments is paramount.

The Northants-raised journalist and award-winning documentary filmmaker has given a voice to some of the most ostracised groups across the globe, mainly known for spotlighting the Kurdish struggle through covering the Kurdistan workers’ Party (PPK), reporting on conflict in countries such as Syria, Palestine and Iraq, launching an independent media platform called Popular Front, all while working with reputable outlets like HBO, VICE News, Wired, The Guardian and more. 

Jake Hanrahan has set a fearless precedent for what journalism on the frontlines of the most bloodcurdling places on the planet should look like. Leaping from investigation to investigation and having to experience calamities first-hand in pursuit of documenting injustice—where he faced two weeks in maximum security prisons in Turkey for his journalism—didn’t cease the 32-year-old’s quest for exposing the truth. It was in 2020 that he would receive the DuPont-Columbia Award for his investigative work on Documenting Hate—a documentary which unveiled the deep white supremacist movement in America and exposed some of the most influential figures in the neo-Nazi Network. 

We caught up with Jake to discuss his journey on the ground. 

“For me, I’m just always against the oppressor.”

COMPLEX: You grew up in the East Midlands, right? Northants, to be precise. How was that?
Jake Hanrahan: It’s a very rundown and deprived area. We didn’t have anything to do, and there’s still nothing to do for young people now. I always explain it to people living in London: if you don’t have much money in London, you can at least walk somewhere and see something cool. Where I’m from in the East Midlands, there’s literally nothing. Don’t get me wrong—there are nice parts, but you’ve got to be able to drive out there. It was just a very dull and rough area growing up. 

How much does growing up in deprivation influence your political stance? 
My dad and I lived in a hostel at one point. It was one room, and I used to think to myself, “Why am I coming home from school and going back to our room and sharing a kitchen and bathroom?” From very early on, I was aware that we didn’t have much, but I come from a good family—a family of good people; real, proper people. My granddad and my grandma ensured I didn’t get into too much trouble; they influenced me significantly. My granddad comes from Ireland—he’s an immigrant—and when I was little, I remember him being very anti-fascist and I was fortunate to grow up with that. However, my dad had substance abuse issues. So from that environment, I gained some politics from my experiences at a young age. And that stays with you a bit.

One of your early roles as a journalist was writing about grime music for MTV UK. How did grime shape your youth, and what made you switch from music journalism to reporting on war and conflict around the world?
When you’re a kid, you listen to what’s popular. With grime, I liked its unapologetic attitude and how it wasn’t shaped for the mainstream. The whole idea of it was very, like, homegrown and grassroots. Everyone loved it because it was so close to us, at every corner. Still, I loved it because it represented something more significant, with a vast majority of grime MCs coming from poverty and social exclusion. I always wanted to do the war stuff, though. I’ve always been fascinated by war and what’s real and what’s really happening in the world—and with war, you can’t fake it. It’s real frontline stuff. Obviously, it’s awful as people are dying, but you see the realest version of people in that setting. It separates the real from the fake people, and there’s something about that concept that I love. I’m not saying it’s good or bad. It was just fascinating! If you’re on the frontline, you see the most resilient people. The toughest people end up appearing.

You report from pretty dangerous parts of countries like Syria, Iraq and Palestine. Based on that, do you think being objective works when reporting on issues? 
It’s hard because war is something specific. I always say the truth is not neutral. If the truth is that one particular group is massacring another group and I report on what’s happening, I’m not biased: that’s just what’s happening. When I was in Turkey, people used to think I was biased against the Turks, but the Kurdish people had their language banned, and Kurdish kids were being killed. There’s footage of Turkish soldiers shooting unarmed Kurdish people with white flags, which is the truth. To be truthful, it’s not like picking a side. For me, I’m just always against the oppressor. 

How important is reporting on the ground when it comes to journalism?
With on-the-ground stuff, it’s more potent. Only some people must go to the frontline to learn about war. But from experience, I’ve realised that there are things you see out there that you can understand so much from. A good example is a guerrilla fighter’s interactions with other guys—you can learn so much from that immediately. If you’re observant, you can realise if they are actually friends, if they are a very secure group, or if they’re fighting for the sake of it. You can’t learn a feeling of a place if you’re not there. 

“I find the reporting on marginalised communities from mainstream media organisations very weak. For a lot of them, it’s an oddity—these communities are like pets to them. They see these people as a monolith.”