The BBC has alienated everyone with its Gaza coverage. After this latest failure, who will be left to defend it?
Gaza: How to Survive a Warzone was a rare example of the unbearable experiences of Palestinians being properly investigated by Britain's public broadcaster. But within the media, this documentary has become a bigger scandal than the suffering of Palestinian children.
When a researcher named David Collier, who has written widely in defence of Israel, discovered that the 13-year-old narrator of the film, Abdullah, was the son of the deputy agriculture minister in Hamas's government, all hell broke loose. After a deafening chorus of condemnation from pro-Israel lobby groups, British newspapers and the government, the documentary was taken off iPlayer.
Monday's review states that the failure to disclose this connection violated the BBC's editorial guidelines, which stipulate that the corporation must 'provide full transparency to its audience'. But it concludes that Hoyo Films, the independent production company that made the film, did not intentionally mislead the BBC. It says Hoyo's view had been – rightly – that Abdullah's father had a 'civilian or technocratic' position within Hamas as opposed to a political or military role, and that it had simply 'made a mistake' in not informing the BBC.
Here is the crucial point. All of Abdullah's words were scripted by the production company, since he was the narrator. The report '[does] not consider that anything in the narrator's scripted contribution to the programme breached the BBC's standards on due impartiality', and found no evidence that Abdullah's father or family influenced the script in any way. In other words, it was completely irrelevant who his father was.
There was no substantial justification for taking this documentary off air. The immediate repercussions were that the young narrator and his family were inundated with abuse and harassment, with Abdullah declaring that the BBC was to blame if anything happened to him. Such fear is hardly baseless: thousands of children have been slaughtered by Israeli troops, including the 12-year-old Mohammed Saeed al-Bardawil, one of the only witnesses to Israel's killing of paramedics and first responders in March.
In the past few days, Israeli forces have killed Palestinian children waiting to collect nutritional supplements and others waiting for water. The latter incident, they claimed, was a 'technical error'. Is this the explanation for how one of the world's most sophisticated militaries, with technology allowing it to know exactly who it is about to kill in its strikes, has plausibly killed tens of thousands of children since October 2023?
Still, in Britain there is infinitely more scrutiny of this documentary than of these historic crimes. The culture secretary, Lisa Nandy, has even demanded to know why no one has been sacked at the BBC after its decision to air the documentary. In Nandy's upside-down world, a single detail in a documentary that exposes the killing of children should destroy careers. What about her colleagues who have supported the continued supply of military equipment for Israeli forces as they commit a livestreamed genocide?
The media backlash against this documentary prompted the BBC to pause another documentary, Gaza: Doctors Under Attack, which investigated Israeli attempts to destroy Gaza's healthcare system (so far, this has killed at least 1,580 healthcare workers). The BBC pulled the film despite it having been approved at every level, with no factual objections to anything in it (the documentary was ultimately broadcast on Channel 4). According to Ben de Pear, the documentary's executive producer and a former Channel 4 news editor who wrote about the decision in the Observer, BBC script meetings were dominated by discussions about potential objections from Collier and the lobby group Camera. Collier's pro-Israel social media output is instructive: he has written that 'Jewish people have every reason to see the Palestinian flag as a flag of genocidal hate', and that 'the Palestinian identity, and especially the 'refugees' were developed ONLY as a weapon against Israel'.
The furore has been used to justify the idea that the BBC is biased against Israel, yet the exact opposite is true. In a damning report, the Muslim Council of Britain's Centre for Media Monitoring found that the BBC gave Israeli deaths far more coverage in its articles when measured on a per-fatality basis – and using the overly conservative official Gaza death toll. The vast majority of emotive words, such as 'massacre', 'atrocities', 'slaughter', 'barbaric' and 'brutal', were reserved for Israeli victims. Israeli voices were heard far more often than those of Palestinians. This has angered many within the BBC, too, who want to report fairly on the conflict: more than 100 have signed a letter criticising the choice not to air Gaza: Doctors Under Attack.
Meanwhile, the historic context for Israel's crimes against Palestinians has been ignored and erased. The numerous statements of genocidal and criminal intent by Israeli leaders have barely been acknowledged. Like other western media outlets, the BBC has stripped Palestinian lives of their worth, ignored and whitewashed Israeli crimes and repeatedly treated Israeli denials of atrocities as credible, even when those denials are repeatedly exposed as lies.
Morality has been turned on its head. The BBC must be perceived as pro-Israel, despite the overwhelming evidence of its crimes. The scandals must be reserved for documentaries about Palestinians, rather than the horrors those Palestinians endure. But here lies the problem. Thanks not least to the work of Palestinian journalists, much of the world has already witnessed the atrocities that are being committed by the Israeli state. They can see the mismatch between what they know to be true and what media outlets such as the BBC report.
The BBC has alienated its natural supporters and is detested by the right because it's a public broadcaster. Its journalistic failures in the Conservative years increasingly undermined faith in its editorial standards. Now, its failure to accurately report on the great crime of our age has only deepened that outrage. Who, then, will be left to defend this ailing beast?
Owen Jones is a Guardian columnist
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Independent
18 minutes ago
- The Independent
Released Israeli-Argentinian hostage fights for brother still held by Hamas
As Israel has announced steps to increase humanitarian aid in Gaza, a former Israeli-Argentinian hostage knows first-hand what that could mean for captives of the Hamas militant group. Iair Horn, who spent a year and a half in captivity, said hostages could tell when more aid was available because they would receive more food. 'When there's less food, then there's also less for the hostages. When there's aid, there's a possibility you might get a cucumber,' said Horn, 46. Hamas militants kidnapped Horn from his home at Kibbutz Nir Oz, along with 250 other people, during the group's cross-border attack on Oct. 7, 2023. He was released Feb. 15 after 498 days in captivity. For most of that time, he was held in an underground cell in a tunnel with several other hostages, including his younger brother Eitan Horn, 38. Since his release, Iair Horn has deferred his own recovery to fight for the release of his brother and the other 50 hostages still being held in Gaza, 20 of whom are still believed to be alive. Negotiations collapse again Hearing that negotiations between Israel and Hamas were once again frozen over the weekend was devastating for his family, Horn said. Since his release, he has made four trips to the U.S., where he has met with President Donald Trump and other American leaders to plead for the hostages. He wasn't sure what to make of a comment Thursday by Trump special envoy Steve Witkoff, who said the U.S. would consider 'alternative options' after recalling its negotiating team from Qatar. 'I'm not a politician, and I'm not getting into those things because I don't understand them. What I understand is very simple: I want my brother back,' Horn said. 'My life is frozen right now. I live in a nightmare that every day they are kidnapping me anew,' he said. Horn, who is single, is currently living with family in Kfar Saba, a city near Tel Aviv. Previously, he worked a variety of jobs in Kibbutz Nir Oz, including in education, maintenance and the kitchen. He also ran the kibbutz pub. Every morning when he opens his eyes, he must think for a few moments to remember where he is, to remember he is no longer a hostage, Horn said. He's gained back some of the weight he lost in captivity, but his list of physical and psychological ailments is long. He does not know where he will live, what he will do in the future, or if he will go back to Nir Oz. The only thing he concentrates on is advocating for his brother's release. 'I never imagined that another half year would pass without seeing my little brother,' he said. Israel's war in Gaza has killed more than 59,700 Palestinians, according to Gaza's Health Ministry. The agency's count doesn't distinguish between militants and civilians, but the ministry says that more than half of the dead are women and children. The U.N. and other international organizations see the ministry, which operates under the Hamas government, as the most reliable source of data on casualties. Brothers were held together Iair Horn is the oldest of three brothers who grew up in Argentina. He moved to Israel at age 20, followed by his middle brother, Amos. Eitan and their parents, long divorced, joined later. On Oct. 7, 2023, Eitan was visiting Iair at his home on Kibbutz Nir Oz when the sirens started, warning of incoming missiles. Soon they received text messages alerting them to the fact that militants had infiltrated the kibbutz. Militants entered Iair's home, where he was hiding in the reinforced safe room with Eitan. Iair attempted to hold the door shut until they began shooting through the door. Then he decided to surrender, worried they might use grenades or stronger weapons. Iair, who was immediately taken into Gaza, didn't know what had happened to his brother until around the 50th day of his captivity, when the militants placed the two brothers together, and Iair realized Eitan had also been kidnapped. Being together, even in their small, barred room, was a stroke of luck, Iair said. 'There's a lot of time with nothing to do, and we talked a lot about our childhoods, about elementary school, about the youth movement, about soccer,' he said. 'We tried to keep our sense of humor. He would ask me, did you brush your teeth? And I'd ask him, did you wash your bellybutton?' 'It was silly things, silly things between siblings that I don't have right now. Many times it happens now that something happens to me on the street that I have to tell him. And I can't, and I'm so sorry,' he said, starting to cry. Captors tell hostages that two will be released For most of the time, the Horn brothers were held with three other hostages. In early February, their captors came to the group of five and said that two would be released. 'For four days, we're looking at each other and wondering if we can decide or influence the decision,' he said. After four days, the captors arrived with a small plate of snacks and a video camera. They announced that Iair and another hostage would be leaving and filmed the emotional interaction between Iair and Eitan. Hamas later released the video on its social media channels, as it has with other videos of the hostages filmed under duress. Their last night together, Eitan and Iair laid side by side in silence. 'There was no conversation because in your head you don't want to have a conversation as if it's your last conversation,' Iair Horn said. When their mother, Ruty Chmiel Strum, learned that Iair was coming out but not Eitan, she said to anyone who would listen, "Why are you doing this to my sons? They are together and you're separating them?' No one gave her an answer, but Strum clung to hope that Eitan would be released soon. Now she mostly ignores news about the negotiations, tuning out the information to protect herself. She said she raised her three boys 'as a single body,' and their support for each other is unshakable. She clasps Iair's hand as they sit together on the couch in her home and looks forward to the day Eitan returns. 'I will feel the hug of my three sons, enjoying life, each supporting each other," she said. "It will happen.'
The Guardian
19 minutes ago
- The Guardian
Angela Rayner on lessons learned from Labour's first year
Pippa Crerar and Kiran Stacey speak to Angela Rayner about Labour's first year in government and the challenges ahead. The deputy prime minister reveals the issue that keeps her awake at night, reflects on why voters are frustrated with Labour, what she thinks the party can do about it, and how it's planning to take the fight to Reform
The Guardian
19 minutes ago
- The Guardian
‘I shouldn't have to fight for answers': David Amess's daughter on the MP's murder and her fury at his friends and colleagues
The last time Katie Amess saw her dad, the Conservative MP Sir David Amess, he was dropping her at Heathrow for her flight home to Los Angeles. Usually, she would cry when they said goodbye, but this time neither were sad – they were both excited. In six weeks, Katie would be back for her wedding. 'It was going to be in the House of Commons and my dad could not wait to walk me down the aisle,' she says. 'He'd been practising, taking my arm, walking me around. We joked about it – we were calling it the 'royal wedding'. At the airport, we hugged goodbye and he kissed me on both cheeks. I skipped off thinking the next time I saw him would be the best day of my life.' Instead, just four weeks later, her father was murdered at his surgery, stabbed 21 times by an Islamic State sympathiser. He was buried in the suit he was going to wear to the wedding. The music planned for walking Katie down the aisle – Pachelbel's Canon – was instead played as his coffin was carried into the church. The murder of David Amess in October 2021, while serving his constituency in a church hall in Leigh-on-Sea, sent shock waves across the country – and the details that have since emerged should have deepened the outrage and furthered the questions. Amess's killer, Ali Harbi Ali, was a once bright, motivated teenager planning to study medicine who had self-radicalised during Syria's civil war. The teachers at his Croydon school had noticed – one described it as a light going out and that his 'eyes were dead'. Ali's attendance fell, his grades plummeted and attempts to talk to him only raised more concerns, leading the school to contact Prevent, the government-led counter-terrorism strategy designed to identify and deradicalise extremists. One home visit was made, followed by one brief meeting between Ali and an 'intervention provider' in a McDonald's. Conversation was limited to two subjects: whether western music and student loans were unlawful in Islam. Ali was deemed a 'pleasant and informed young man'. (He later said: 'I just knew to nod my head and say yes and they would leave me alone afterwards and they did.') There was no follow-up, no further consultations or contact with his referring teachers. There was no monitoring. Despite the atrocity Ali went on to commit, Katie believes there has been little scrutiny of any of the above, no accountability or consequences for the anonymous officials involved and no requirement to give a public account of their actions and lessons learned. For almost four years, Katie, on behalf of the Amess family, has pushed for an inquiry. Partly as a result of this pressure, the Home Office commissioned Lord Anderson, the interim Prevent commissioner, to produce a rapid review of the case in order to identify whether questions remain unanswered. It was published last week and concluded: 'Though the information available on [Ali's] case is not complete and likely never will be,' the 'unhappy story' of his engagement with Prevent had been 'squeezed almost dry'. Katie doesn't agree. 'I'm not going to give up,' she says. 'All we want is for someone to say: 'We're sorry. This is what happened, these are the mistakes made and this is what we're doing to make sure it never happens again.' I shouldn't have to fight for answers.' Born in Basildon to an electrician father and a dressmaker mother, David Amess was a working-class, Catholic Conservative and had been an Essex MP for 38 years when he was murdered. He was approaching his 70th birthday – on that last airport trip with Katie, she had broached the subject of retirement. 'He didn't want to retire any time soon,' she says. 'He felt he had so much left to do.' Having an MP father was all Katie had ever known, but Amess was not an absent figure, away at Westminster. He was committed to his constituency with no ambitions for higher office. 'When I was young, I used to ask: 'Do you think you could be prime minister?' He'd say: 'Absolutely not!'' For Katie, the second of five children, all born within seven years, he was present and fun and always loomed large in her life. 'My dad was absolutely hilarious and completely inappropriate,' she says. 'He'd do the craziest things and sometimes they were a bit dangerous.' He would booby trap the house at Halloween. He would take all five children to water parks even though he couldn't swim and would have been unable to rescue any of them. At toll booths, on family road trips, all five children were instructed to blow raspberries while he paid the operator. 'He was obsessed with animals, so we had dogs, cats, chickens, bunny rabbits, hamsters, gerbils, a goat called Tinkerbell,' says Katie. 'He wanted a small pony at one point, but Mum vetoed that. He had fish and birds in his office even though no animals were allowed, but he didn't listen to rules. At Halloween, he'd go to Westminster in full goblin outfit. At Christmas, he'd put a tree on his balcony at Westminster, which was definitely not allowed, and his whole office was lit up with flashing lights.' From the age of four, Katie accompanied him to constituency events. 'My elder brother was out playing football and my mum had my three younger sisters to look after, so I was all dressed up and dragged to garden parties and village fetes.' Later, when she moved to London for drama school – she is now an actor – she stayed in her dad's London flat. 'I'm so glad I spent all that time with him so I could just be around him and soak up what he was about,' she says. 'I never knew I wouldn't be with him for another 30 years.' Amess was very well known in his Southend West and Leigh constituency. 'He spent so much time there,' says Katie. 'Everybody knew his name and face. I've received so many messages since he died saying: 'We didn't agree with him politically, but he helped my elderly parents'; 'He got support for my disabled child'; 'He visited my sick grandma in hospital.'' In some ways, his profile and accessibility made him vulnerable. He was the face of government and easy to locate. In fact, it later emerged that Ali had worked through a list of possible victims, including Michael Gove and Keir Starmer, both of who were deemed too complicated to find. Amess – targeted because he had voted in favour of airstrikes against Islamic State – was holding a surgery. (The pinned tweet on Amess's account gave the date, place and details of how to book.) 'I always worried about Dad's safety, but I thought if anything was going to happen, it would be a punch-up from a local yob,' says Katie. 'Never in your wildest dreams would you imagine that a terrorist would go through a list and then come and murder your dad. It's just so shocking. It's still unbelievable.' In the immediate aftermath, the family were too stunned to think about inquiries or even formulate questions. Katie remembers flying straight back to the UK, walking into the family home and seeing the runner beans Amess had picked from the garden before going to surgery. 'I washed up his breakfast plates – tea and toast – from the morning it happened as well as his dinner plates from the night before and could not believe it was the last time I'd ever be doing this,' she says. 'All those times I was annoyed that he'd left his plates for me to clean when I was in his London flat for drama school. Now, I just wanted to be able to clean them one more time.' When details about Ali's history with Prevent began surfacing, the family assumed an inquiry would be announced after his trial. (In April 2022, Ali was given a whole-life sentence.) Two home secretaries – Priti Patel and Suella Braverman – assured the family that they were working on it, but their successor James Cleverly refused to meet them. Instead, there has been only a Prevent learning review, completed in February 2022. This gives a glimpse of Prevent's failures in the case – the strange decision‑making (why focus on student loans and western music only?), the lack of record-keeping, the absence of communication, returned emails or follow-up. 'I was absolutely gobsmacked when I read it,' says Katie. 'I could run Prevent better with my friends. If these are the people entrusted to save us from terrorism, we've got a huge problem.' Equally striking is the sparsity of the review. No one involved is identified or even interviewed. It's a review of secondhand accounts and the records kept (and not kept). 'The main conclusion it seems to draw is that so much has changed with Prevent, it's all been fixed, so we don't need to look any harder,' says Katie. 'If that was true, why were three little girls murdered in Southport last year?' Axel Rudakubana, the Southport killer, was referred to and rejected by Prevent three times. One of the questions to be asked in the Southport inquiry is whether Prevent needs a complete overhaul. 'They could have asked that question years earlier after my dad was killed and perhaps Southport wouldn't have happened,' says Katie. Campaigning hasn't been easy. Katie is based in the US and her mother, Julia, is not well – she had a stroke shortly after Ali's trial, which the family attributes to trauma and grief. The change of government briefly gave them hope. Katie and Julia had a video meeting with Yvette Cooper, the new home secretary, who told them that Amess was a great friend, their Westminster offices were next door and they used to walk to the Commons chamber together. 'We thought: 'Perfect. Now we're getting somewhere,'' says Katie. Instead, months passed. Finally, in March, in another video call, Cooper admitted there wouldn't be an inquiry. 'My mum said: 'Look me in the eyes and tell me as his friend that you think you're doing the right thing.' Yvette Cooper could not answer.' In a formal letter, Cooper explained that it was 'hard to see' how an inquiry could go beyond what had already been established in the trial, the Prevent learning review and the coroner's report, as well as the forthcoming rapid review by Lord Anderson. 'When an elected official is killed in a church hall in broad daylight by somebody the government is monitoring, there should be an inquiry – it shouldn't even be a question,' says Amess. 'This isn't a witch-hunt, but there should be some accountability. The mistakes made cost me my father, my mother's husband, a grandfather, a brother, a son. 'I don't think we'll ever recover,' she continues. 'It's my 40th birthday this month and I know I'd have flown back to England like I did every summer and my dad would have thrown me a huge party. There'd have been 40 balloons and he'd have made my friends give me 40 bumps! I want to have children, but I think: 'What sort of mother would I be now when I'm in so much trauma and heartache?' I used to think he'd be such a funny grandpa. All that has been robbed from me.' For Katie, the lack of support from Westminster after her father's decades of service is deeply painful and nonsensical, too. 'I just cannot believe the way we've been treated by his friends and colleagues,' she says. 'It's in all their interests. They are meeting the public day in, day out, so why don't they want to investigate properly and establish what would make them safer? Dad's legacy needs to be that through what happened to him, he saves other people. Please, just show some human decency. Do the right thing.' Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.
