In an age where media is often questioned and truth feels contested, Ben offered a timely and quietly powerful reminder of why journalism still matters and what it takes to do it well.
From his early days navigating rejection (he applied to the BBC six times before being accepted) to standing in Red Square as the Soviet flag came down, Ben gave the audience more than a retelling of history; he delivered an invitation to reflect on how we document, protect and challenge the world around us.
Throughout the session he shared striking moments from his career, from reporting amid artillery fire in Chechnya to interviewing Mikhail Gorbachev while cradling his infant daughter. There were stories that stunned, others that made the room laugh out loud, and some that prompted quiet reflection.
One particularly resonant thread was the importance of trust and precision in journalism.
“If you’re telling people things that aren’t true, it’s a waste of everyone’s time and money. Accuracy is everything.”
The session wasn’t just a tour through history, it was also a candid look at the personal cost of frontline reporting, and the evolving responsibilities of journalists today. Ben’s ability to humanise both the extraordinary and the everyday, from near-death encounters in warzones to on-air slips that live forever on social media reminded attendees that journalism isn’t just about reporting facts, but navigating responsibility in real time.
And while many of his stories were deeply rooted in international affairs, his closing reflections brought the message home: democracy and a free press are intertwined and neither should be taken for granted.
“Democracy is the magic that lets power change hands peacefully. And I’ve seen too many places where that magic doesn’t exist.”
There was a clear take away from the session, though no single quote can capture it fully. It was the kind of keynote that doesn’t just inform, but lingers. And for those in the room, it was a reminder of the role our wonderful membership sector plays in safeguarding something far bigger than ourselves.
