“The assassination of a journalist is not only the murder of a voice, but an attempt to annihilate the right of the world to know, to understand, and to bear witness to suffering.”

— Shireen Abu Akleh,

Al Jazeera’s Palestinian-American journalist,

killed by an Israeli sniper on May 11, 2022

“War zones are not only battlefields of armies but also of truth. Attacking journalists is the quickest way to ensure that the most dangerous truths remain buried.”

— Lydia Cacho, 2008 UNESCO/Guillermo Cano World Press Freedom Prize winner

With each dispatch, Bisan Owda’s refrain—”It’s Bisan from Gaza, and I’m still alive”—reminds us that survival is a story in itself and for many and telling it is a revolutionary act.

From the depths of war-torn Gaza, where survival and reportage blur, Bisan Owda’s dispatches, beginning with the haunting refrain, “It’s Bisan from Gaza, and I’m still alive,” pierce the global conscience, bearing witness to the horrors inflicted on her homeland. With every live stream and video, Owda navigates the ruins of her city, her family’s plight a mirror of the broader Palestinian suffering. She chronicles life under siege with fearless clarity, even as bombs fall nearby and scarcity tightens its grip on her and countless others.

On September 25, Palestinian journalist Bisan Owda won a News and Doc Emmy for their haunting documentary It’s Bisan From Gaza and I’m Still Alive in the Outstanding Hard News Feature Story category.

Her voice, fragile yet unwavering, has echoed across borders; for 11 harrowing months, Owda has stood at the epicenter of Gaza’s turmoil, delivering the stories of a people enduring war and devastation to a global audience starved for the truth.

In the theatre of war, propaganda and media seeking truth are two sides of the same coin. Propaganda weaponises information, shaping perceptions to rally support, demonise the enemy and justify military actions. It often plays on fear, nationalism or ideological divides, creating a polarising environment where truth becomes elusive and dissent is silenced. In times of war, propaganda can blur the line between reality and fiction, making it harder for the public to discern the actual events.

On the flip side, journalists serve as watchdogs, exposing the realities of conflict and holding power accountable. By documenting events, revealing atrocities and providing a platform for diverse voices, journalists bring transparency to the chaos of war. They give the public access to uncensored information, humanising the victims and putting a spotlight on the human cost as well as on broader geopolitical dynamics. Journalism in war can influence international response, spark humanitarian intervention and inform global understanding of the conflict.

“If there are no journalists, no one can independently verify this and tell the world,” Jonathan Dagher, head of the Reporters Without Borders (RSF) Middle East Desk, said. “Then the Israeli army becomes the source of all information.”

Targeted killing of

journalists

When war seeks to erase the truth, those who dare to document it are the first to fall. The escalating slaughter of journalists in Gaza and the West Bank marks not just a death toll but a deliberate war on those who bear witness. Press freedom groups have drawn a chilling line between journalism and survival, with the Committee to Protect Journalists revealing that more than 75 percent of all journalists killed in 2023 perished in the Gaza conflict. This is not mere collateral damage but a systematic silencing of those who refuse to look away.

In Gaza, where survival and truth have become equally endangered, journalists navigate the rubble of war to expose the unspeakable. They persist under skies thick with Israeli airstrikes and streets haunted by famine and displacement, defying both physical and existential ruin. Without protection, food or witnesses, they continue to chronicle the devastation. As more than 130 cases of journalists killed, injured or disappeared remain under investigation, each silenced voice diminishes our grasp of reality. “Every time a journalist is lost, a fragment of truth dies with them,” warns CPJ’s Carlos Martinez de la Serna, condemning the crime and history’s unforgiving gaze.

CPJ has already confirmed the deliberate targeting and killing of five journalists by Israeli forces—Issam Abdallah, Hamza Al Dahdouh, Mustafa Thuraya, Ismail Al-Ghoul and Rami Al Refee. They are investigating ten more cases, hauntingly similar, of those whose lives may have been taken for daring to report from the front lines. Each name is a reminder of what is at stake: not just a life but the truth they fought to protect.

International humanitarian law (IHL) protects journalists, recognising them as civilians in the line of fire. War correspondents also have the right to be treated as prisoners of war if captured during international armed conflict, affirming their essential role in the quest for truth amid chaos. In February 2024, a stark warning emerged. The unprecedented toll of media workers killed, injured and detained in Gaza represents not merely a silencing of voices but a profound fracture in the global quest for truth amid the chaos of war. Each fallen journalist is a testament to the peril of illuminating the darkness, a reminder that the fight for truth comes at a harrowing cost. In the following May, the International Criminal Court made its move, pursuing arrest warrants for Hamas and Israeli leaders alike for war crimes and crimes against humanity.

United Nations experts, alarmed by the escalating violence against journalists, have condemned the blatant disregard for international law. In a statement released in February 2024, they expressed deep concern over the extraordinary number of media workers killed, injured and detained, particularly in Gaza. Each loss marks not only a silencing of voices but also a fracture in the global pursuit of truth amidst the chaos of war.

The pattern

Given the soaring death rate among reporters, researchers monitoring the situation have increasingly come to believe that Israel is deliberately targeting journalists and media workers while also dismantling Gaza’s media infrastructure.

As of September 24, the toll on journalists in the Gaza conflict speaks of a relentless assault on those who strive to document the truth. A staggering 116 media workers are confirmed killed—111 Palestinians, two Israelis and three Lebanese. Injuries are no less severe, with 35 journalists wounded, two reported missing and 54 arrested. These are conservative statistics. Beyond these figures lies a harrowing reality of ongoing threats: cyberattacks, assaults, censorship and the killing of family members. The CPJ continues to investigate numerous unverified reports of additional journalists killed, detained, or missing, as well as attacks on media offices and personal homes.

Despite these devastating losses, the Israel Defence Forces maintain that journalists are not deliberately targeted, though they have said that they cannot ensure the safety of those on the ground. This statement, issued at the start of the war, echoes a longstanding pattern of impunity that has repeatedly failed to hold the IDF accountable for the deaths of reporters. The list of slain journalists, meticulously compiled by the CPJ, reflects the depth of this crisis, where the line between observer and victim is often blurred, as those documenting the conflict face the same deadly risks as those living it.

Ten months into the war, Jonathan Dagher, head of the Middle East Desk at RSF, highlights a disturbing pattern: “This is no longer a case of five or six journalists, which would have been tragic on its own. We are now over 130.”

Among those killed, the RSF has identified 31 clear cases where journalists were directly targeted due to their profession. Dagher underscores the profound weight of this reality, pointing to a deliberate assault on those who risk everything to report the truth.

The raids

In a brutal display of power, Israeli soldiers stormed Al Jazeera’s offices in Ramallah mid-broadcast, seizing equipment and shutting down the newsroom for 45 days. The reason? Allegations of “inciting terror”—an accusation Al Jazeera fiercely refutes as nothing more than a cover for silencing the truth.

Viewers watched live as soldiers handed the closure order to bureau chief Walid al-Omari, his voice steady as he read the death sentence for press freedom on air. This wasn’t just another raid; it was an assault on one of the last lifelines connecting the world to the horrors unfolding in Gaza.

With foreign journalists barred from the strip, Al Jazeera’s reporters have become the only witnesses to a war Israel would rather keep unseen. Netanyahu’s government, empowered by a new law allowing foreign media to be silenced under the banner of national security, has made its intent chillingly clear. “Al Jazeera will no longer be broadcast from Israel,” Netanyahu proclaimed, calling it a “terrorist channel.” But this is more than a legal order—it’s an attempt to obliterate voices that speak too loudly and too clearly for the comfort of those who benefit from the fog of war. The Ramallah raid follows similar crackdowns in Nazareth and East Jerusalem as the Israeli government tightens its grip on the narrative, replacing truth with state-sanctioned silence.

As Israeli soldiers stormed Al Jazeera’s offices in Ramallah, ripping equipment from the walls and seizing the last camera, the haunting image of Shireen Abu Akleh loomed over the chaos. In a gut-wrenching twist of irony, her face watched silently from a poster on the wall as the very forces who admitted “high probability” of killing her tore down the last remnants of the press’s ability to report. Abu Akleh, the veteran journalist shot in the head by an Israeli soldier while wearing a “press” vest during a raid in the West Bank, became the ghost in the room—a reminder of the deadly stakes faced by those who dare to tell the truth. As the soldiers pushed Al Jazeera’s Walid al-Omari out of his newsroom, they weren’t just confiscating equipment—they were pulling down the voice of the slain journalist, silencing her legacy once again, in a raid eerily symbolic of Israel’s ongoing war on information.

At 2:30am on September 19, Israeli military vehicles surrounded the home of Mujahed al-Saadi, a Palestinian journalist who had been documenting the IDF’s siege of hospitals in Jenin. The darkness of the night gave way to the terror of a raid as Israeli special forces stormed inside, shattering the fragile peace of his family home. They dragged al-Saadi, barefoot from his bed, beating him in the face and chest with the butts of their M16 rifles. His wife was also struck down, desperate to hand him his shoes. His children and elderly father stood helpless, witnesses to the violence unleashed on the man whose only crime was telling the world what he saw.

Al-Saadi was taken to Jalameh prison for interrogation before being transferred to Megiddo, a penitentiary infamous for its abuse of detainees. No charges, no trial—just administrative detention, an endless purgatory where prisoners vanish behind walls without a voice. It’s not just the journalist’s pen they seize; it’s the very breath of his existence. Since his violent arrest, al-Saadi has had no contact with his family or lawyer. In a prison where detainees have died from beatings and neglect, the fate of yet another silenced witness remains uncertain, swallowed by a system designed to break both body and spirit. This isn’t just about organisations—it’s about the brutal cost individual journalists pay for truth.

An assault on truth

Where the line between truth and obliteration blurs with each airstrike, Lebanese journalist and editor-in-chief of Miraya International Network, Fadi Boudaya’s harrowing experience on Wednesday serves as a grim emblem of a deadly reality. As he reported live, the shattering roar of an Israeli missile cut through his broadcast, casting him from the screen and thrusting the viewer into a moment of stark horror. This visceral incident not only underscores the perilous landscape for journalists but also highlights the chilling truth: in a war-torn world, the pursuit of journalism can come at the ultimate price, where every attempt to illuminate the darkness risks becoming a fatal misstep.

It isn’t just about Israeli assault on journalists and media workers. Dagher of RSF delivers a stark reminder: “This is an assault on truth itself—a battle to replace facts with silence and reality with propaganda.

The writer is a critic, essayist and writer who splits his time between Toronto, London and Geneva