Gaza's journalists are talented, professional and dignified. That's why Israel targets them

The Guardian

2 days ago

The first time I met Al Jazeera's Gaza team lead, Tamer Almisshal, was in July last year. His team had already buried two journalists, Hamza al-Dahdouh and Samer Abu Daqqa. The rest, he told me, were hungry. They were also dealing with trying to get hold of protective gear, threats from the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) and the killing of family members. Ismail al-Ghoul hadn't seen his wife and child in months and was missing them intensely. Hossam Shabat, Mohammed Qraiqea and Anas al-Sharif were asking for time to secure food in the morning before they could start reporting. Today, they are all dead.
I spoke with various members of the Gaza team while writing a profile of Gaza's veteran reporter Wael al-Dahdouh, who lost his wife, three of his children and grandson. All spoke of their work as a duty that needed to be carried out despite the risks. Three members of that team have since been killed in a chain of assassinations. Each time I sent condolences, the response was always that the coverage would not cease. 'We are continuing,' the Gaza editor told me last week, after he lost his entire Gaza City team in the targeted strike that claimed the lives of Sharif, Mohammed Nofal, Ibrahim Thaher and Qraiqea. 'We will not betray their message, or their last wishes.'
As these killings dazed the world – and the response to them became mired in unproven and in some cases risibly implausible claims that some of these journalists were militants – little has been said about the calibre of journalism in Gaza. How fluent, articulate and poised its journalists are under impossible circumstances. How much they manage to capture horrific events and pain on a daily basis, in a journalistic Arabic that they have perfected to an art, while maintaining a professional, collected presence on camera. How much they manage to keep their cool. I struggled often to translate their words into English, so rich and expansive is their expression. Even Sharif's final message, a text for the ages, loses some of its power in translation. In it, he addresses those who 'choked' our breath, but the word he uses is closer to 'besieged' – evoking not just physical asphyxiation but the silencing of a surveilled people's voice.
What strikes me when I speak with journalists in and from Gaza is how evangelical and heartbreakingly idealistic they are; how much journalism to them was a duty even if it meant certain death. All who have been killed had a choice, and those who are still alive and reporting still do. Sharif said he had been threatened several times by Israeli authorities over the past two years. Al Jazeera told me that he was sent a warning by Israeli intelligence and told to stop reporting. When he refused, his father was killed in an airstrike. When Ghoul took over from Dahdouh early last year, Dahdouh told him that it was a dangerous job, and no one would fault him for leaving his post and returning to his wife and child. Ghoul refused, and was decapitated in a targeted strike.
What the Israeli government is trying to do with these killings is not just stop the stream of damning reports and footage, but annihilate the very image of Palestinians that these media professionals convey. The credibility, dignity and talent that Gaza's journalists exhibit to the world in their reports and social media posts has to be extinguished. The more Gaza is a place that is teeming with militants, where there are no reliable narrators, and where Israel's justifications for killing and starvation cannot be challenged by plausible witnesses, the easier Israel can prosecute its genocidal campaign.
A recent investigation by +972 Magazine and Local Call identified the sinisterly named 'legitimisation cell', a unit of the Israeli military tasked, in the words of the report, with 'identifying Gaza-based journalists it could portray as undercover Hamas operatives, in an effort to blunt growing global outrage over Israel's killing of reporters'. According to the investigation's sources, the effort is 'driven by anger that Gaza-based reporters were 'smearing [Israel's] name in front of the world''.
Central to this effort is Israel's ability to rely on western media to treat its claims as somehow plausible, despite the fact that time and time again, it has made claims that turn out not to be true. Emergency workers who were killed because they were 'advancing suspiciously', according to the IDF, were said to be found in restraints with execution-style shots. The claim that Hamas was systematically stealing aid, which is used to justify blockade and starvation, was contradicted by sources within the Israeli military itself. It is Hamas that is shooting Palestinians queueing for aid, Israel has said, not us.
Eventually, this behaviour deserves to be called what it is: systemic deception that forfeits your right to be a credible authority. And still we are told that Israel has killed a journalist, but here is Israel's claim that the journalist was a militant. You can make up your mind. The resulting ambiguity means that even if these claims cannot be verified, they are imbued with potential truth. Do you see how that works?
The truth is that journalists in Gaza have been colossally failed by many of their colleagues in the western media – not just in terms of how their killings are reported, but in how the entire conflict is described. Figures of the dead and starving in Gaza are often described as coming from 'Hamas-run' ministries, but you don't see the statements coming from Israeli authorities caveated as serially unreliable, or the phrase 'wanted by the international criminal court' attached to the name Benjamin Netanyahu. Meanwhile, the word of Palestinian journalists is never quite enough – not until foreign media (who are not allowed into Gaza) can give the final gold-standard judgment. They are cast out of the body of journalism, their truth buried along with them.
In Gaza, however, there will always be someone brave and clear-eyed who continues the coverage. Who puts on a press flak jacket that makes them a target. They continue to bear, alone, the responsibility of bringing the world the reality of events in Gaza, even as their voices and breaths are besieged.
Nesrine Malik is a Guardian columnist