In this electrifying episode of Writers Off the Page: From the TIFA Archives, travel back to October 1992 to hear Martha Gellhorn — novelist, journalist, and witness to nearly every major conflict of the twentieth century — read from the newly revised conclusion to her landmark book The Face of War, first published in 1959 and updated across five editions as Gellhorn found herself, again and again, unable to look away.
At 84, in what would prove to be one of her final public appearances, Gellhorn arrives at the Harbourfront stage not to reminisce but to provoke. She takes phrases we have heard so often they have lost their edges — we love our boys, better dead than red, we won the Cold War — and holds them up to the light until the rot shows through. What emerges is something rare: a moral reckoning delivered with the authority of someone who was actually there, on the ground, in Spain, in Finland, in China, across Europe, in Vietnam, in Central America, watching ordinary people absorb the violence that leaders and slogans set in motion from a safe distance.
Listen as she traces the evolution of The Face of War through five decades and five editions — each expansion driven not by ambition but by outrage she could not suppress. She describes going to Vietnam in 1966 because the reporting she was reading bore no resemblance to what she knew war actually looked like for the people living inside it. She recounts her time in El Salvador and Nicaragua, where she came to believe that American foreign policy had decided, simply, that the poor were dangerous. And she reflects on the lesson she believes governments drew from Vietnam: that the real threat to a war effort is not the enemy, but a free press.
The reading itself — Gellhorn's newly written conclusion for the 1992 edition — crackles with the same controlled fury. She takes on the arms trade with particular ferocity, arguing that governments which prosecute the drug trade while freely selling weapons to anyone who can pay are guilty of a hypocrisy that dwarfs anything crack or heroin has ever produced. She calls out the Cold War as a forty-year waste that bankrupted both superpowers while the world's poorest people paid in blood. She offers a rare note of genuine admiration for Mikhail Gorbachev — the one world leader in her experience who chose to step back from catastrophe rather than toward it. And she closes, as she always did, not with hope exactly, but with the refusal to pretend that silence is acceptable.
This recording has a great deal to say to us now. The wars Gellhorn names have changed; the logic she describes has not. Embedded journalism, managed media access, government-approved narratives of conflict — the tools she identified in 1992 have only grown more sophisticated. The gap between military spending and spending on citizens has only widened. The arms trade she called more destructive than the drug trade continues to dwarf it. And the civilians who pay the price — nameless, numerous, dying in conflicts they did not choose — remain, as she put it, out of sight.
What Gellhorn offers, in the end, is not a political programme but something more demanding: the insistence that if you believe something is evil, silence is itself a sin. She called her own contribution a squeak. It still carries.
Recommended Reading & Viewing
By Martha Gellhorn
Yours, for Probably Always: Martha Gellhorn's Letters of Love & War, 1930-1949
The Face of War (print & ebook available)
The Weather in Africa Three Novellas
The View from the Ground
Travels with Myself and Another (print & ebook available)
About Martha Gellhorn
Love and Ruin by Paul McClain
Gellhorn: A Twentieth-Century Life by Caroline Moorehead
Film & Video
The Troubles We've Seen (available via Kanopy)
The audio recording of Martha Gellhorn was recorded on stage at Harbourfront in Toronto in October 1992 and is used with the permission of the Toronto International Festival of Authors. Learn more about Canada's largest book festival, and its many year-round events and programs, at FestivalOfAuthors.ca.