Women who lead
As the war in Ukraine continues to dominate the headlines, the BBC’s chief international correspondent, Lyse Doucet, reveals to Bethan Rose Jenkins what it’s like to cover the world’s biggest stories
When Lyse Doucet first arrived in Kyiv last January, she was struck by the beauty of Ukraine’s capital. ‘I was dazzled,’ she says. ‘There were magnificent cathedrals, where the bells rung on the hour, and centuries-old architecture.
‘Once the invasion started, I remember walking through cobbled streets, which then were criss-crossed with sandbags and piles of tyres and these metal hedgehogs, and looking at these elegant buildings and thinking, “Really? The Russians are going to smash all those?”’
As the BBC’s chief international correspondent, Lyse is known for her clear and calm reporting, in which she distils complicated situations around the world into terms viewers can understand. Lyse doesn’t believe in being emotional during reporting and keeps the focus firmly on the people behind the headlines, whether in Ukraine, Syria or Afghanistan.
So, it’s surprising how animated and quick to smile Lyse is when we speak via video call, as she recounts amusing anecdotes, compliments my clothes and recommends books. Her instant ability to connect with people with genuine warmth and interest has no doubt played a significant part in her long career getting to the heart of human stories.
Framed between two bookcases at her west London home, wearing a chic blazer and sporting a glossy manicure, she seems a world away from the conflict zones and flak jackets of her reports. The only clues are the books on the shelves, which have words such as ‘frontline’ and ‘war’ visible on their spines.
For her, the best thing about being a journalist is that it’s ‘a licence to ask questions and to be not just on the margins of history, but to be walking smack right into the middle of it’.
Lyse witnessed the build-up to the war in Ukraine. ‘With every day there was this cloud looming and a sense of greater certainty that invasion seemed imminent; 23 February went into 24
February and Kyiv was still a city that never sleeps. Clubs were buzzing, lights were shining, bells were chiming on the hour,’ she says. ‘Then, on our journalists’
WhatsApp group, at five in the morning: “Did you hear the explosions? Did you hear the air-raid siren?” Suddenly, Russian tanks had rumbled across the border.’
As Ukrainians took to bomb shelters, Lyse and her colleagues moved to an underground bunker, where they slept ‘mattress to mattress’ with local families – mainly women and chil
