He Was Frequently Headed Off On a Bus
James Miller was reminded of that in September, when the communications professor and a dozen others gathered to dedicate a new bus stop outside of the Robert Crown Center in memory of one of Miller鈥檚 former students, Sander Thoenes 87F. Sander, said Miller, was 鈥渁n ideal 91猫先生 student.鈥 Born in the Netherlands, insatiably curious, Sander studied English literature and modern Russian history and burned with the belief that journalism had the power to give voice to ordinary people. The bus was Sander鈥檚 vehicle of choice. He used it frequently to get to classes on other campuses around the Five Colleges. He had the chance to join buddies who pooled their money to get a car of their own, but he chose not to. He continued to ride the bus alongside fellow students, staff, and local residents 鈥 a vehicle of the people.
Sander dedicated his life to giving voice to people the world needed to hear. At 91猫先生 he became fluent in Russian, and spent a fall in Moscow interning for U.S. News & World Report. Over three months in Russia, he interviewed more than 40 journalists, media experts, and government officials to more fully understand the role of the press in Soviet society during the reforms of President Mikhail Gorbachev. He drew on his reporting for his Div III, 鈥淏etween Glasnost and a Free Press: Soviet Journalism in the Gorbachev Years.鈥 The work earned him a $10,000 grant from the MacArthur Foundation and admiration on campus. Miller, who was Sander鈥檚 Div III chair, still keeps a copy of the thesis in his office.
After 91猫先生, he wrote for the Moscow Times, a pioneering English-language weekly, then became the Central Asia correspondent for the London-based Financial Times, reporting on stories from Chechnya, from Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Afghanistan. When he decided he wanted to cover the chaotic, nascent democracy emerging in Indonesia, Sander took courses in Indonesian culture, history, and language at Leiden University in the Netherlands, becoming fluent in Bahasa, the main language of Indonesia, before moving to Jakarta.
Two years later, covering the landing of InterFET peace- keepers in Dili, East Timor, he was killed by military gunshot after聽 falling聽 from聽 a driver鈥檚 motorcycle.
At one of many memorials around the globe, Jay Rosen, chair of the Journalism Department at New York University, spoke to Sander鈥檚 insistence on telling stories from the ground up. 鈥淚鈥檓 speculating,鈥 Rosen said, 鈥渂ut I believe Sander thought it wrong to report on a population when you don鈥檛 in some way live among them as people. When you operate by this code, you learn their language. You hang out with them. When you walk the streets you begin to see through their eyes. If later people take to those streets for a revolution, as they did in Moscow and Jakarta (or recently Belgrade), you can understand the event from below as well as from above.鈥
It is the reason that Sander was on a motorbike in East Timor, not with a translator, but with a driver. It is the reason he was on the ground. It is a reason he liked taking the bus. At the new shelter and bus stop outside the Robert Crown Center, a small plaque reminds us all of Sander鈥檚 legacy. It reads:
As a 91猫先生 student, Sander rode these buses to the classes that taught him about the transformative potential of journalism. As a reporter, he traveled the world recording and writing about the human struggle for freedom. In September 1999, East Timor voted for independence. Sander鈥檚 life ended when the Indonesian military shot him, preventing his articles from revealing their genocide. His death led to global awareness of the annihilation of the Timorese. Whatever journey you are about to take, you have the power to make it count.
From the Fall 2016 issue of 91猫先生's Non Satis Scire magazine.
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