In this episode, we speak with journalist Peter Greste and actor Richard Roxburgh. Greste is a former foreign correspondent, arrested with two other Al Jazeera journalists in Cairo in 2013, ultimately serving 400 days in an Egyptian prison before his release. Roxburgh, meanwhile, is known for various acting roles in film (Moulin Rouge) and television (Rake). More recently, he has turned his dramatic talent to portraying Greste in a new film, The Correspondent. The pair speak with freelance writer David Leser.
Hi, I'm Conrad Marshall and from the Sydney Morning Herald and The Age. Welcome to season six of Good Weekend Talks, a magazine for your ears, featuring in-depth conversations with fascinating people from sport and politics, science and culture, business and beyond. Every week, you can download new episodes in which top journalists from across our newsrooms talk to compelling people about the definitive stories of the day. In this episode, we speak with journalist Peter Greste and actor Richard Roxburgh. Greste, of course, is a former foreign correspondent who was arrested with two other Al Jazeera journalists in Cairo in 2013. He was sentenced to seven years in jail, but after 400 days in an Egyptian prison, was eventually freed and deported home to Australia, where he's now an academic. Roxboro, on the other hand, is known for his roles in everything from the Baz Luhrmann film Moulin Rouge! To the ABC TV series rake. But he turned his dramatic talent recently to portraying Gresta in a new film, The Correspondent, which has a Sydney premiere on March 16th and a general cinematic release on April 17th. The pair are doing special screenings with Q and A's in the coming months, and we're also featured in our cover story this week, Double Take, which was written by the host of our conversation today, freelance writer David Lazer.
Thanks, Conrad, and welcome Richard Roxburgh and Peter Greste to good weekend Talks.
Thanks, David.
I'd like to start with you, Peter, because we're coming up to ten years since you were released from an Egyptian jail. Could you remind our listeners you're working for Al Jazeera English at the time? Can you just remind our listeners what on earth happened? Yeah, okay. Well, I was in Cairo over.
The Christmas New Year New Year period of 2013 into 2014, covering the bureau while they were understaffed. I my main, my main base was was Nairobi, so I didn't know Egypt particularly well. I'd only been in there for a couple of weeks, and there was an unfolding political drama between the supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood. The Brotherhood had been ousted in a coup. They won the first democratic elections in Egypt's history about 18 months earlier, but their government was forced out in a coup earlier that year, and there was an interim government. And so we had rival protests between the supporters of the Brotherhood and supporters of the interim government. And I was trying to keep pace with that, trying to cover it, really, because I didn't know the story very well as as neutrally and as vanilla like as I could. You know, it was very, very bog standard journalism. And but of course, that meant also speaking to the Brotherhood and their supporters. And on the night of December 28th, um, you know, of 2013, I got this knock on the door of the hotel, and a bunch of of security agents burst in and effectively told me that I was I was under arrest. Um, I discovered pretty quickly that I was facing some very serious terrorism charges.
So you got charged with kind of belonging to the Brotherhood, in a sense, and therefore aiding terrorists because the Muslim Brotherhood, as you say, was an outlawed terrorist organization and making up news. I mean, that must have been just galling for a journalist.
Wind back a little bit. We were accused of of being members of a terrorist organization, as you said, of aiding and abetting a terrorist organization, of financing terrorism and broadcasting false news. The Brotherhood had been accused by the government, the interim government, of being involved in terrorism, but there was really no evidence that it had actually been a part of that. Um, but regardless, yeah, it was it. The charges were, were were insane. I really struggled to, to make sense of of why we'd been tied up in up in that way.
So. And Richard, where are you at this time? December 2013. Do you remember Peter's arrest?
Oh, yeah, I remember I remember vividly following the arrest and the trial and, um, and the kind of shock that that came with the fact that he was, you know, actually doing. Are they going to put him away now? Um, I remember the kind of complete shock at that. And then the fact that it just, it seemed to be going on and on without resolution and without, um, any sort of foreseeable way that the Australian government could, could operate to, to, to to spring him out of there. I remember, you know, I thought, wow, Julie Bishop's actually seems to be doing a pretty good job. But my God, this is this is tough.
You've played so many stellar roles in in your life. You were the Duke in Moulin Rouge! Who played Elvis Presley's father for eight years, you were the the brilliant but utterly self-destructive lawyer Cleaver Greene in Rake. You've been the criminal detective Roger Rogerson. You've played Sherlock Holmes, Count Dracula, hamlet, Bob Hawke. But the list is endless. But by my calculations, back in 2013, when Peter was being arrested, you were preparing to play Flip the Grasshopper in Maya the Bee.
What a cool factoid.
Yeah, that's that that is a fact. And I, I was I was already sort of triangulating my position, thinking next it'll be Peter Greste. You know, once if I can nail flip, Peter's the next obvious choice.
What made you decide to take on that role?
Um, well, I thought it was near impossible. Uh, Which is always a great starting place. Um, I mean, I obviously don't bear much resemblance to Peter. Um, I thought, how are they going? How would you carve a story which is essentially entirely set inside prisons, um, into something that, you know, would be would have a have a kind of enough of a narrative hook to, to work. And then I read it, and then I spoke to, to grieve about what his the director of EastEnders about what his intentions were. And I thought I was then I was excited about it and really terrified of it because, you know, I, I'd met Peter in passing at was it a G. GQ man of the year?
That's right.
Human of the year awards or something.
But who was who was the man of the year?
We were both obviously nominated in our various fields of endeavour.
Yeah, I got, I got I was up there for best haircut.
Um, I was probably just being given accolades for Flip the Grasshopper. I can't remember, but but, um, you know, it was just really terrifying, the idea of of playing Peter and interpreting his experience. Um, and so it was something that I, I don't know, whenever I, I get that scared and I think I just can't, I can't possibly do that. It it ends up becoming a kind of oyster. The sand in the oyster a bit.
What's the scary bit? Is it actually trying to inhabit what Peter went through, or because, you know, of Peter's reputation or because, um, I mean, you've done lots of challenging roles. What's what's the scary bit here?
Having played quite a few people who are, you know, who were living and or, you know, uh, common Commonly known public figures. There's always something that goes with the world of interpretation, the authorial element of it, the, the, uh, editorial element of it. Because, you know, the only time that the truth exists is in its actual moment. And thereafter it's it's once it's reported, it's it's obviously forever changed from the moment, from the moment this moment ends, there is no truth. Essentially what it is, is in, in interpretation, which is a dance. And that's why the world is such a scary place now, because the truth is, is open to so many, you know, obvious misinterpretations and untruths. And that's what you you can't bring to the table when you're doing a story about a real human being who existed. And this happened to. So there's a lot around that that I was troubled by. I, you know, I really respected Peter. I, I, I respected what he went through. So there's the matter of making sure that it's in no way undermined or trivialized. It's just a it's a huge responsibility. And I didn't want to take it lightly.
Peter, I'm imagining that if a film was going to be made about me, I'd ask for Richard Roxborough to play me. Is that what happened?
Yeah. Look, there was a long. There was a long of discussion, a lot of talk about who would take on the role. And I kind of didn't dare imagine too much about who might, who might step up and who might be willing to take it on. Um, but when Richard's name popped up, I got to admit, I was I was really quite blown away, quite excited. Um, you know, obviously, I know Richard's work over the years.
Um, had you seen Flip the Grasshopper?
Is that when I saw flip, I thought that's the guy who I want. That's the, um. But it was it was.
Look, we were a little shy about it.
Very shy. I mean, really intimidated. Shy is probably not the word for it. Really? Yeah, really? Yeah. I mean, you've you've played such as a character actor and you're known as a character actor, right, Richard? You're not.
Yeah.
You're someone who embodies characters and who brings a whole extraordinary element of your own interpretation, your own personality to those roles. We all play that game, don't we? You know who's going to play you in a movie? Well, I never, never really imagined that.
David Wenham, for me, I guess constantly kind of.
Well, so when, when you when I saw you greet each other outside the studios today, there was it was a very warm embrace. But how well do you know each other?
We don't know one another hugely. Well, we've had we've had great chats along the way and Peter was incredibly helpful when we were filming. If there were, if I had issues or confusions around something or a moment. And, you know, we've we've sort of to and fro with messages about how we are with things in the world and how we, how how we respond to the film and so on.
We had a really, really good conversation. I think, um, at Carmel Travers home when we were talking about the film and the stories and the ideas behind it, and it wasn't just about the film, it was about my experience as a journalist. And so it was fantastic to be able to talk about those issues in with the kind of depth that I don't often, I don't often get a chance to.
This was in the beginning.
It was very early on in the stages, long before shooting had even begun, and we were sort of exploring the ideas about the ideas behind the film. Um, the kind of narratives and the experience, the deeper experience of both being a journalist but also going through prison. And I really valued Richard's curiosity as well.
Did you have a view of journalists. One way or another, prior to doing this film, I mean, there's a temptation to say that every actor either hates or loves journalists or a bit of both. Some of the time. What was your experience of journalists and journalism prior to this?
My experience or thinking around journalism was, you know, it's a profession that I had enormous respect for. And, you know, the idea of being a foreign correspondent was was something that had actually entered my own head before or around the time that acting was there as well. Then there was Peter's personal story. I was really alert to the fact that I was in no way physically alike.
So to get a haircut.
I.
Had.
A haircut. There was there were.
That looked pretty good. That number one. Yeah.
We we quite quickly came to the conclusion that that in a sense it's that that was an irrelevancy that that what was what was going to be the only way that I could attach myself to it. Um, and make sense of it was that it was I was in some way going to have to just, uh, emotionally and embody the story of, of that imprisonment and that and that time.
It's one of the things that Richard said to me very early on, because I asked, I remember on set, I asked you, how does it feel about having me here? And you said at the time, look, I'm not trying to impersonate you. Yes. And I actually took, I felt, took great comfort from that idea that you weren't trying to somehow, you know, sort of adopt my mannerisms and my character, that you were bringing your own interpretation to the role. And I thought that was, as you said, perhaps not necessarily the only way you could have had a crack at it, but I, I took a I thought that that was a really respectful way of handling it. And I took a lot of comfort from that.
So as you prepare for a role like this, Richard, are you imagining. Are you thinking more of in inhabiting the skin of a journalist, or are you thinking more? I'm a prisoner.
Um, I guess I'm thinking more. I'm a human being. So, you know, obviously the journalism is is front and center because that's why he was put there. And so there's a there's a terrible thing that's happened to this human being, but also to the, to the whole world of journalism that this was allowed to happen. And in fact, this is happening, as you know, Peter will talk about, I'm sure, at some point. But, you know, this is a the world's changed since 911. You probably have to say. So the journalism journalists are, you know, have become kind of fair game. Um, across, uh, all kind of, um, conflict, which is its own problem. But really, I, I guess I was just focusing on this is a human being that this has happened to. And yes, he's a journalist, and that's incredibly central to the story. But my job, I suppose, was to kind of empathetically in that experience, the confusion of it, the kind of Kafkaesque horror of it, the seeming never ending ness of it, and what personal impacts that had, um, across that time. And, you know, Peter's book was incredibly revealing. Talking to Peter was incredibly revealing and helpful about all of that stuff.
So, Peter, ten years almost, when you think about that experience, those 400 days in Egyptian prisons, what gave you the capacity to survive? How do you think he survived?
Um, gosh, there are all sorts of big, deep philosophical questions that lie behind that. Um, part of it was not taking it personally. So a big part of the struggle initially was trying to figure out why I was in prison. Like we'd been, as we discussed earlier, we'd been accused of some pretty serious terrorism offences. But the gap between what we'd been accused of and the reality of the journalism that I'd been doing was so wide that I really couldn't understand how anybody had looked at what we'd been doing, and somehow come up with the idea that we'd been actively engaged with terrorism. Um, and I thought, well, if it's not about me, about what I've done in my journalism, maybe this is karma, maybe this is the universe telling me that I've done something really bad in my life, and I should be punished for this. And I was wrestling with all sorts of all these sorts of questions until I had that conversation with a wonderful guy called Alaa Abdel Fattah, who was an extraordinary human being. A wonderful, incredible, intelligent guy. Young guy. Guy. Much younger than me at the time, but he'd had a lot of experience as a political prisoner in Egypt. And he said to me, look, you know, I don't care what the universe has done. You need to look at the politics of this. I don't think the universe has a particular view on on why you're here. Um, that this isn't you've got to see that this isn't about you. But anything you've done, but about what you've come to represent. And from that point on, I saw that this wasn't that. I didn't take it personally.
But he also said, didn't he, at least in the film, are you capable of living inside your head?
Yes. And that was that was, I guess, another big part of it, too. It was stepping away from it and not taking it personally, but also recognizing that the bigger battle, the greater battle was, was internal.
Mhm. I just want to read you a quote I read recently from Alexei Navalny, the late Russian opposition leader, and he, he cultivated what he called a prison Zen. He was not merely the sum of his politics, which in this case was was a free Russia. But he was also determined to prove exemplary as a human spirit. The important thing, he wrote, is not to torment yourself with anger, hatred, fantasies of revenge, but to move instantly to acceptance. Did you do that?
I resonate very, very powerfully with those comments. Um, and in a lot of ways, I came to abandon hope. And that's not in the sense that you give up or quit, but it's I think it's it's exactly what Alexei spoke of in that comment, in that in that quote. It's about acceptance. It's about accepting the reality of where I am at the moment. I felt that the greatest form of resistance was survival. The whole point of prison is to break you down, is to wear you weigh you down. And for me, my the best way that I could resist. If I couldn't physically break out of prison, then my the strongest form of resistance was was survival and the capacity to adapt and deal with the, the, the realities of the four walls that I was faced with. Um, and that's not about giving up. It's not about, um, somehow sort of acknowledging that what the authorities had done was the right thing to do. It's to say that now I'm stronger than this. I'm not going to let you break me. I will deal with this and and do something positive with it.
So your prison Zen was prison.
Vipassana was vipassana. Yeah, well, Vipassana was a very big part of that. I had a very bad, um, relationship break up some years previously. And to try and steady the ship, I went and did a Vipassana course, which is.
Which is a meditation.
Course. It's a meditation course. Ten days of really strict silent meditation. No communicating with anybody, no anybody, no reading material, no writing material. And I know that when they put me in solitary confinement fairly early on and closed the door and said, right, you're on your own. Um, I realized that I've been there before. I had the tools for that. And in all sorts of ways that I really didn't anticipate. Vipassana gave me the capacity to deal with a lot of the really toxic emotions that often bubbled up in those kinds of environments.
Toxic emotions in terms of facing yourself, facing the things about yourself.
Facing the things.
And also an uncertain future as well.
Well, not facing the things about yourself that you don't like. Um, facing anger and resentment and bitterness. Facing the kind of hatred again that that Alexei Navalny spoke of in that, in that quote. Facing the inner demons that inevitably bubble up in that kind of environment. When you've got that much space for for your head to turn in on itself and start to eat you up from the inside, which is which is what I saw happening too, with a lot of the other prisoners who'd been stuck in there for extended periods.
We should also hasten to add, at this point that Abdel Fattah is still he's still in prison.
Yeah. Alaa is is still there and still still dealing with these. Yeah, these these issues.
Richard, living inside your head, is that something that you've come to? I mean, do you meditate, for example? Is that a practice that.
I do, actually. Well, I dip in and out of it, but I find it incredibly useful for regulating and resetting, uh, everything on a daily basis. I haven't done a Vipassana, um, because the idea of ten days on sitting cross-legged on wooden boards, I just don't know. But, um, what what also really interested me, uh, about the idea of doing this story is, is, is the, I guess, in a in a way, the weird opportunity that prison affords you as a human being. And I know that sounds mad, and it's not always the case. And but to to to be in a place where you're forced to kind of into a, into a position of self-reckoning to examine all the things about yourself because you have all the time in the world to do it. I think that is really that's really fascinating. And I think that that's that's something that's been touched on really beautifully in, in this film.
It's funny that you say that, because one of the things I remember very vividly when I was in solitary confinement was from one of my, one of the other prisoners who came out, came past and stood outside the door. And I was sort of talking to him about how, you know, the kind of isolation was, was, was really challenging for me. And he said back, he I think he misunderstood what I was saying. And he said, yes, it's a gift, isn't it? This this is what monks and sages seek, uh, you know, uh, half their lives. This kind of isolation and the chance for for self-reflection. Um, and I heard that and thought, actually, maybe he's right. Maybe. Maybe I'm approaching this the wrong way.
This was your plum village?
Yeah. Yes.
But, Richard, I'm wondering. You must have thought a number of times, playing Peter, representing Peter that. Well, how would have I coped in. In the same circumstances? Did you come up with any answers?
Oh, yeah, I did. I did think I did think of that as we were touching on before. I mean, I've done quite a few prison based, um, jobs across my career. In fact, I said, I really probably across time, I've probably have done a good six month stretch. Um, I'm one of the first television jobs I ever did was playing Ronald Ryan, who was the last man hanged in Pentridge. And so that was kind of five weeks. And so I think, you know, with time served, I've probably I've done a decent stretch. It's never a pleasure working inside a prison. And you do. And you do think when they close those doors each time and you sit inside those cells, you think, how would I how could I, what would, what would I?
So where did you film this? I mean, you must have been underground filming the correspondent.
Yeah, a lot of it was shot in the, um, decommissioned. What used to be called the Balmain Mental Hospital. Um, and a lot of it was in really horrendous underground cells. Where to? To see any light, you had to look up and and through bars. And it was unbearably hot in summertime. And the conditions were horrendous. It was horrendous. I'm not daring to draw a, you know, a line between my experience and Peter's at all, but it it was um, it was horrific filming, but I think it probably had to be, um, to, to, to kind of achieve any semblance of, of, um, truth to it. The other thing that was really particular about this job, which I'd never experienced in my life, was that I literally had to be on screen the entire time. Um, so it was first person, and I had never done that in my whole life. And what that meant was that there was no time. Normally on a film, you get a moment of kind of reprieve. You get a, you know, you get a couple of scenes off, you get a day off. I was literally in every shot. And so, uh, you know, a particularly a fraught or, or incredibly intense scene, which might take a half a day. You then I would then have to sort of go into. Okay, now you're now you're running backwards and forwards for a kind of for for two hours, and then you're doing push ups for an hour and then you're doing, you know, then you meet the Latvian ambassador. And so there's, there was that was it was intense, I'm not going to lie.
There's a scene towards the end where you get your freedom, Peter, and you're putting on your Czech shirt and you're getting ready to leave. After 400 days, it's been suddenly announced that you're going home. And, uh, in the film, Richard, you you lean against a wall, you kind of collapse against a wall and just break down in tears at the at the At the relief, at the surprise, at the agony of this whole thing. Peter, when you watched Richard doing that, are you feeling like that's a faithful portrayal of how it was for you?
Oh, yeah. That moment was really, really confusing. I mean, and I don't mean that in a kind of dry way. It was emotionally really discombobulating. As you said, I didn't expect it at all. It came completely out of the blue. In fact, on the day that I was released, I was about to tell my brother that we need to start a hunger strike. My brother was coming for a visit that day, and I was going to tell him that we have to start a hunger strike. So I was convinced that we were we had started a new phase of the struggle to get out. Um, and, and so mentally, my head wasn't in the space for release at the same time. And obviously, when I was told it took a while for it to, to actually seep into my bones, But I was also really ashamed. I was ashamed and embarrassed that for my colleagues that were also that had to stay in prison. I felt real agony at having to leave them behind. So there was this mix of confusion, of discombobulation, of disorientation, of of this kind of intellectualized joy that I knew I ought to be feeling, but I couldn't feel the joy that I wanted because wanted to, because my colleagues were still were still locked up, were still having to endure that, that prison.
That's a direct insight into survivor's guilt, really, isn't it?
Yeah, absolutely. And but we talked about this before. We always knew that there was a possibility that one of us would be released and had to leave the others behind. And, you know, one of the most incredible acts of generosity was from one of my cell mates who, who who embraced me. And he said, man, this is the best news. And he gave me permission to walk out, I guess. And but I also realized at that point that the only way I could move forward was also to continue the fight to to release them from the outside.
So just staying with that scene at the end where you find out you're leaving and Richard in the film, you collapse against the wall and you're in tears. Had you directly asked Peter, what did you do then?
No, I hadn't asked about that. The strange thing about a film of a real life as an act of interpretation is that you, you you need to find some kind of, you know, emotional lily pads that the character jumped onto at various times. And in a sense, you offer them up. So, for instance, interestingly, that scene that you're talking about now and I talked about it after we'd shot it and we both thought we shouldn't use that because we felt that it was going to be cutting to another moment where, um, Kate's body is another part of the film.
Where Peter is reliving the death of his colleague in Somalia. Kate Peyton.
Kate Peyton is is he? And so we thought, if you're going to be cutting to that, then then this is, um, this is unnecessary and it's over gilding the lily. But then you offer it up as a possibility, and and but we did it. We did other versions of that where it was very still and very calm and and there was none of that. And some of it just takes you by surprise as well. As an actor. And so this is an odd oddity that then the director needs to assemble as if kind of putting together a mosaic in the cut.
This is one of the things that I think is really beautiful about the film. And that's it's not the kind of classic Hollywood happy ending. It's a really conflicted, emotional ride. And that is exactly how it was at the time. It wasn't a sort of moment of of joy that a lot of people might have expected. It was conflicted. It was difficult. There was all sorts of turmoil of emotions going on inside me. And and so when I saw that scene and saw the way that Richard had betrayed it and saw the tears, I immediately felt, that's that is the right. That's the right tone. That is exactly what I was experiencing. There was tears of joy, but there was also this, this real anguish about the prospect of going and leaving my colleagues and all of the other emotions that were churning away inside at the time.
One of my all time favorite films is All the President's Men, and as we know, Robert Redford plays Bob Woodward and Dustin Hoffman plays Carl Bernstein. And in the film, you see, I don't know whether Carl Bernstein has a bit of a stutter, but Dustin Hoffman has a kind of stutter, and Robert Redford is doing this noodling on a pad. Perhaps Woodward noodles on a pad, too. And in the film, you're sending texts with when? In that short time, when you're still free in the beginning of the film is sending texts with your thumbs. And there's a few other sort of things that where it feels like you've studied. Peter, did you actually study Peter when you first met him? And the times you you, uh, got to know him before the film.
Should I leave before you answer this? Brigitte.
Look, I mean, you obviously do. If you know you're going to be playing somebody and that person is in the room with you, then yes you are. But having had those early conversations that this this was not going to be a film of, you know, where there was any kind of decree. I thought what the most important thing I could possibly do was to try and just navigate myself to what I felt was the kind of essential, energetic, energetic world of of Peter and where he would then operate from. What was the energetic centre? And so all of the other stuff, the kind of peripheral things that were peripheral to that, the, the any physical things? Not so much. There are some things about the way that he spoke that I thought were useful, but they also were useful only inasmuch as they related to his energy as a human being. And what that means.
Tell me more. Tell us more about the way he spoke.
Well, I think Peter has a very, um. I mean, he's he he has a beautiful speaking voice. You hope you don't mind me saying that. Um, he's he has, uh, what I, I would describe as a kind of almost, uh, European gentility and an essential decency as a human being. So therefore, the the way that that person speaks is, is is, you know, is a part of that. And I also thought it sent a slight arrow, which would be very subtle to having, having grown up in a house with a European father.
How curious that you have a Latvian director.
Yeah, well.
They know each you. Right. So this is right?
Yeah. This goes back. Yeah. I remember when I was talking to my father about about the early stages of this film, and he had just been, um, had taken on the job as director. And my dad, I was telling my dad about it, and he said, look, um, a film? Yeah. No, no, no, he said no, no. You should talk to my friend Andy Stenders. Um, Andy's son, I think, is in the movie business. Maybe he can help you. I said, dad, it's okay. It's under control. Because my father was a refugee in Australia with Andy Stenders, who was his dad. They. They knew each other as kids in the refugee camps, um, back in the 1950s. And. And so Andy Stenders is one of my father's oldest, oldest friends. And, and I worked out even though we we didn't we wouldn't necessarily we didn't have great memories or strong memories of one another. We certainly met when we were kids as well. So it's funny how this has sort of gone full circle. And it wasn't a choice. I mean, I don't think, um, Griff took it on specifically because of because, you know, I was Latvian and certainly karma wasn't looking for for that connection. But I don't know, it just sort of brings this really nice synchronicity to to the beautiful synchronicity.
And I mean, to further the synchronicity, I just want to add that my mother's family is Latvian.
Really?
Yeah.
Well, yeah. It's funny how they seem to find their way into all sorts of interesting, interesting roles.
So your book could be a great book in and of itself. But it's more than that, isn't it? This is kind of, it seems to me, reading your book and watching this film, that it's a vehicle for telling a much bigger story about the assault on freedom of the press. And that's one of your purposes. Am I right in saying?
Yeah, and in a lot of ways, and perhaps this is also a way of me retrospectively, um, processing what happened in Egypt. But I've felt that that experience and, and the struggle that my family went through, um, only carries meaning and value if I can do something with that. And seeing our seeing, seeing the experience, seeing what happened to to me and my colleagues as part of a wider struggle for press freedom or wider assault on press freedom, I think has really given me a purpose. I didn't want to write the book in the first place, unless I was able to draw something bigger out of the story. And I'm really gratified that that the film works on that level as well. But I wouldn't want anybody to go into the film thinking that they're going to see a sort of polemic around press freedom. Um, it that is inevitably a really important subtext to the story. And I really want people to come away from the film thinking about about press freedom and the sacrifices that journalists make. But it is also an incredibly powerful story, and certainly the way that Chris has and Richard and the whole the whole cast and crew of have interpreted it as a story about of a struggle, of a family, um, to, to help free someone unjustly imprisoned. And I think that's also very much a part of the narrative.
In the public mind's eye. I think it might be fair to say that the foreign correspondent is the most romantic of of journalists, but despite their courage and daring do they're often would it be fair to say broken or selfish or narcissistic, or running away from family and relationships?
Um, well, I guess it depends on who you ask. I can think of a few, a few of my exes who might agree with some of that description. Um, look, it's it's it's an incredibly challenging job. You can't do it without, I think, a degree of of obsession. Um. Perhaps. Um, it's it's the kind of job that requires you to prioritize the news over your personal life, over your family life. And I think maybe that can lead to a slightly warped sense of of of of priorities. Um, foreign correspondents are notorious for having broken relationships in their wake. Um, that's a difficult thing. It's a difficult job to to to to have and, you know, asking people to be a part of that, um, can also be really challenging.
Can we say the same thing about actors, Richard? That they're often selfish. Can not be selfish, narcissistic, running away from family and relationships?
Um, I don't think it I don't think that that, uh, acting imposes has, has, has the same kind of, uh, deep, intractable impositions as being a foreign correspondent. I don't think so. It's it's a tricky life at times. It's also a, you know, it's also an incredible life. Um, and I feel incredibly lucky and I still love it. I love to do it. Um, but it's it's it's fraught as well. And you can say that you don't bring things home, but you do bring things home. It doesn't mean you're going to be acting like that character. But you know, the kind of dust motes of playing in that world stick to you and you're bringing, you know, uh, bringing stuff. A lot of the time while I'm working, I, I stay in, I stay away from home, in any case, and I just drop back when I can for weekends. It's probably easier for everybody.
To make the final re-entry a bit better, a bit easier.
Yeah. It's also, look, it's just a practical thing in terms of timing as well. For instance, on this job, you know, I was up at kind of daybreak and on set, um, to film all day. And if you live in the northern Beaches, you can't do that. So so there's a practical element to it as well. But I think it's, uh. I think it's a family saver. Um, and it's it's it it works for us in that way.
So, Peter, do you still have a sense of wonder about being free?
Yeah, of course, all of the time. Um, and I'm also very conscious. And you raised this earlier, Richard, that, um, you know, there are still people that I was imprisoned with, um, who have no right to be there, who have, you know, never did anything. In fact, if anything, they should be on pedestals and lionized as heroes of, of Egypt who are still suffering. And I'm still very, very conscious of that, the conscious of the fact that I left people behind. Um, and I'm also conscious, you know, over the years as a journalist, you know, I've worked in some of the most extraordinarily tragic environments and seen incredibly tragic examples of human suffering. and I can't live without being conscious of my own extraordinarily extraordinary good luck and good fortune. You know, one of the reasons I'm here and not still in prison is because my name was just happens to be Peter and not Muhammad. And so in a lot of respects, I, I am constantly thankful and grateful for for that gift, not just of freedom, but of, you know, living in a relatively safe, prosperous, happy country.
How would you describe freedom, Richard?
I don't think you're ever as conscious of of of personal freedom as you are when you have gratitude. I think when you're when you're grateful, you're a long way towards being free. But I think the world is, since I always say since nine, 11, there's there's so much, so much that has That is fundamentally changed in in the world and has corralled our whole sense of what freedom is. I think, you know, you don't have to look at what's happening in the Middle East right now to think, okay, well, what what the hell has happened to freedom? And, um, and how on earth are those people going to feel gratitude for for what's happening? I think the more grateful you are as a person for the fact that you happened to be born in a country, in a civilization that in which you have personal freedom. I think that's that's helpful because then you have a starting place to try and help in some way. Um, with the way that you, you look at the rest of.
I think freedom is one of those things that you really it's a bit like oxygen that we really only become aware of it when we don't have it. And when you don't have it, you can't think of anything else. It becomes so essential to your being. To your existence. But as long as it's there, it just sort of you. You inhabit it and it sort of sits easily on us. But it's the loss of freedom that that becomes so crucial. And that's. And, you know, I don't begrudge people for taking it for granted. Because as I said, we, you know, we breathe and the air is there and that's. That's fine. We hardly ever give it a second thought. But it is such a crucial part of our. Of human existence, um, that when you don't have it, it becomes. It becomes such a defining issue. It becomes such a powerful obsession. Um, that that I think we we tend to overlook it in ways that we don't really appreciate.
And when it's taken from you, that's when the meaning making becomes. That's absolutely vital, doesn't it? And one of the books you were given in prison. because you went through periods where you had no access to reading material, and other times where you did. And Viktor Frankl's famous Man's Search for meaning. And there's a quote from that book which you quote in your book. Everything can be taken from a man, but one thing, the last of the human freedoms, to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.
And I still get goosebumps when I hear that, um, because it and it is in ways that we don't think about, we're not necessarily aware of. It gives us a sense of agency that we always have that agency. If you don't have control over your own circumstances, you do have control over the way that you think about it and approach it and understand it. Um, and if you're aware of that sense of agency, then it gives you a power that I don't think people fully appreciate. Um, that's not to dismiss the loss of freedom. I mean, that is a very, very difficult thing to take away from somebody. But equally, if you are in a position as I was, where that freedom is gone. Understanding and recognizing that you still have the control over the way that you think about the situation that you're in, and you still have control over your own thoughts, over your own attitude. Um, that in its own way, is also quite liberating.
Everybody should be given a, a copy of Marcus Aurelius when they when they get thrown into thrown into prisons.
What? The Stoics.
Yeah.
Yes.
The Stoics more than Viktor Frankl.
Well, I think Frankl articulated it. Frankl gave it a modern twist. But.
Yes, but it's.
Very it's.
It's very stoicism, very sort of centred on that.
I think Jerry Seinfeld's into the star now, isn't he?
I believe so, yeah. Yeah.
And you.
Are? Yeah. Look, I just think there's there's so much common emotion, emotional, intellectual sense that makes makes sense of the human condition in what the Stoics have to say.
And stoicism is often misinterpreted as a sort of suck it up attitude. Oh, yes. And it's not. It is not that.
No.
It is absolutely not that. It is about a way of recognizing the reality of the situation that you're in. And this goes back to what I was saying earlier about abandoning hope that it's it's not something because hope is hope emphasizes the gap between where you are in any given situation, the shit sandwich that you might be struggling with and the and the place where you really want to be, when in fact, the way to deal with it is to recognize that this is the reality of what I have to confront. I can't change this. This is the circumstances I'm in. I need to deal with this. In my case, it was the reality of those four walls. As much as I wanted to hope for freedom. As much as I wanted to hope that the authorities would would see the folly of what they were doing to us. I recognized that that was something I just had to leave because I didn't have control over that. What I did have control over was my capacity to deal with this concrete box, that this was now my world, and I and I needed to exercise control over this tiny eight foot square cube. That's that was my reality and that was what I could deal. That's what I had to deal with. And that, I think, is a fundamentally kind of stoic attitude. Not. Yeah, not it's not a suck it up thing. It's just recognizing reality.
But the Stoics would also say, wouldn't they, that why shouldn't this be me in this concrete box? Why am I so exceptional?
Yeah. Yeah, exactly. And and having that.
What right do I have to any kind of entitled, exceptional life, I think.
Yeah, but a degree of humility is also a part of that. I don't think there's anything I think that's a that's important that we hold on to that.
It's interesting that the word hope. And you know, we got into this a bit in the, the film that that the, the idea of giving, oh you've got to give up hope. I mean, it sounds terrible. It sounds like the enemy of of every you, of every thought you've ever heard uttered in every prison film you've ever seen.
And everyone always asks, oh, you must have had so much hope.
Yeah. And so the idea that no, no, no hope is the problem. The problem. Yeah. Because it, it it deprives you of, as you were saying, of of of agency. Yeah. And did you have know that that it's not, it's nothing that you can control. What you can control is the way that you're thinking about the the immediate conditions that you're in.
Hope is the cross your fingers strategy. Right. Hope is is the idea that you know something will happen that to change my circumstances. What we're talking about is, is recognizing that I can those those are things I'm not going to worry about. I mean, it would be nice if something happens, if, you know, there external forces that change this. But at the moment I can deal with this little world of mine and I can think, and I have the power to control the way that I think and see and relate to it. And I'm not going to lose energy and focus by hoping for some, some kind of romanticized, idealized outcome that I had no, no control over.
Well, I think that's a good note to leave it on. And I want to just say what a pleasure and privilege to speak to you both today. Richard Roxburgh, Peter Greste, thank you very much.
It's been a pleasure.
Thank you. Thank you.
That was journalist Peter Greste and actor Richard Roxburgh, speaking with the writer David Lazar for the latest good weekend talks. If you enjoyed this episode, please remember to subscribe, rate and comment wherever you get your podcasts and keep tuning in for more compelling conversations coming soon. We chat with Ballarat boy Callum Linnane, the son of a brickie who became the principal dancer for the Australian Ballet and soon stars in their new production, Nijinsky. Good Weekend Talks is brought to you by the Sydney Morning Herald and The Age proud newsrooms. Powered by subscriptions to support independent journalism. Search. Subscribe. Sydney Morning Herald or The Age? This episode of Good Weekend Talks is produced by Conrad Marshall and edited by Cormac Lally. Our executive producer is Tammy Mills. Tom McKendrick is head of audio and Katrina Strickland is the editor of Good Weekend.