Blogger and human rights activist, Sultan al-Khalaifi, has been detained by security forces after criticising the country’s censorship rules on his blog. Khalaifi, who is founder of a rights group campaigning on cases of detention in Qatar, has been in detention since March 2 after being contacted by state security. According to his lawyer he has been detained on numerous occasions in the past.
At a quiet corner of an apartment in Cairo, Palestinian journalists now sit staring at a blank screen. Just months ago, they were reporting from the heart of Gaza – documenting airstrikes, interviewing survivors, filing stories that made global headlines.
Today, they’re unemployed, unheard, and in exile.
More than 250 journalists from Gaza are now living in Egypt after fleeing the Israeli military campaign that began in October 2023, according to figures from the Palestinian Journalists Syndicate, which now has a presence in Cairo. Others have evacuated the Strip for countries including Oman, Qatar, Turkey and Canada since the start of what we call a genocide.
Once at the frontlines of war reporting, these journalists are now caught in a different kind of crisis – one marked by silencing, legal limbo, and professional erasure.
Most of these journalists were freelancers, with no long-term contracts, no medical insurance, no institutional protection, and no guarantee of employment after evacuation. Their cameras are packed away. Their microphones sit unused. Without work permits, they can’t be legally employed in Egypt, and with little to no support, many are struggling to survive.
“I was a journalist until the day I crossed the border.” “Now, I am just a refugee with a press card that no longer holds any weight.” This is how Palestinian journalists describe their current situation.
A minority of journalists who worked with international news outlets – those with permanent staff contracts – have been more fortunate. Some were able to join the bureaus of their agencies abroad, while others continue to receive their salaries, even while displaced. But for the vast majority, the collapse of Gaza’s media infrastructure has left them jobless, voiceless, and adrift.
And the barriers are not only bureaucratic – they are political. Egypt has denied work permits to Palestinians evacuating the war in Gaza, including professionals, journalists, and academics.
This policy effectively bars Gaza’s journalists from continuing their work. No matter their skills, credentials, or experience, they are not allowed to contribute to the media landscape in the country where they have sought refuge.
Worse still, for those of us who worked for Al Jazeera, a separate wall exists.
The Qatari-based network has been banned in Egypt since 2011, following the uprising that overthrew the former president Hosni Mubarak. Its bureau was shut down, and journalists affiliated with the network were subjected to persecution and arrests. Today, more than a decade later, that ban remains in place. This means that Al Jazeera journalists from Gaza, now exiled in Egypt, are prohibited from working, even remotely, fearing the risk of being persecuted.
Having worked as an Al Jazeera correspondent in Gaza, I now find myself among those silenced – not because I’ve stopped caring, not because I’ve lost the will to report, but because the system has made it impossible for me to continue. The war didn’t just displace us from our homes; it severed us from our profession, from our identities, and from the world we once informed.
Our voices were once loud enough to echo around the world. Now we whisper into the void. The silence is devastating – not just professionally, but emotionally and psychologically.
For journalists, reporting is not just a job. It is a calling and a mission. We bear witness, we document truth, we speak for the voiceless. Being denied the right to report is like being denied the right to breathe.
Many journalists now live in small apartments, surviving on the goodwill of friends, NGOs, or savings that are quickly running out. Some are supporting children and elderly family members, with no income and no clarity on what the future holds. The stress is enormous. The uncertainty is constant.
And yet, the genocide in Gaza continues. Our colleagues who remain inside – those who survived airstrikes, lost family members, or saw their homes flattened – continue to risk everything to report. But even they are running out of tools, electricity, and time. Many of them rely on us in exile to amplify their voices. And we are desperate to do so, but unable.
The consequences of this silencing reach far beyond individual careers. They represent a systemic erasure of the Palestinian narrative. At a time when truth-telling is critical, Gaza’s journalists – those who carry the first-hand accounts, the context, the memory – are being sidelined.
This is not just a loss for us. It’s a loss for journalism, for history, for the world.
The international community, especially global media outlets and press freedom organisations, must act. Gaza’s exiled journalists need legal recognition, support, and pathways to work – whether through temporary relocation programmes, freelance partnerships, or legal aid to navigate the permit systems.
We need allies; we need solidarity; we need our roles as truth-tellers to be restored.
We didn’t choose to leave. We fled for survival. But we still carry the burden of our people’s stories. We still carry the fire and drive to tell them. What we need now is the space and permission to speak.
Let our silence not be the final chapter.
On Saturday 17 May, veteran human rights campaigner Peter Tatchell was arrested. Tatchell is no stranger to arrest. When he celebrated his 70th birthday in January 2022, his post marking the occasion said he’d been arrested 100 times. At the end of that year he added another one to the list, this time in Qatar, where he was protesting the country’s criminalisation of LGBTQ+ people ahead of the World Cup. That arrest wasn’t exactly surprising. Qatar doesn’t tolerate protest, much as it doesn’t tolerate gay people.
But Saturday’s arrest was different. Tatchell was detained in central London while peacefully partaking in a large-scale pro-Palestine march. Another twist: Tatchell believes he was reported to the police by the protest organisers themselves because his message called out Hamas, as well as the Israeli government. He was carrying a placard that read: “STOP Israel genocide! STOP Hamas executions! Odai Al-Rubai, aged 22, executed by Hamas! RIP!” The police also said Palestine march stewards told them he shouted “Hamas are terrorists”, which he firmly denies.
Let’s pause here for a moment. For the past two months protests have been taking place in Gaza against Hamas. In response, Hamas has reportedly issued orders via one of its Telegram channels for the execution of all “traitors and troublemakers”. Odai Al-Rubai was one of them. According to his family he was brutally beaten and his lifeless body dumped outside his home with the message: “This is what happens to people who criticise Hamas.” According to Tatchell, who wrote a blog post on his website in response to Saturday’s arrest, others have suffered a similar fate.
Tatchell’s point was simple: if you care about Palestinian lives, you should care about all the forces threatening them – including Hamas. For that, he says, he was told by a small minority of protesters at the start of the march to “fuck off”, “get out of here” and called “Zionist scum” (the police incidentally did nothing) before being reported on and taken away.
The idea that calling out Hamas somehow makes you an enemy of the Palestinian cause is bonkers, frankly. And yet this idea has taken hold. I’ve experienced this myself. In the past 19 months I’ve frequently criticised Israel for its attacks on freedom of expression (and human rights more broadly). But the moment I mention Hamas, the tone shifts. Eyes roll. The atmosphere chills. It’s not just that people seem uncomfortable with the idea of pulling up anyone from Gaza, there’s a suggestion there too: “well, you would say that – you’re Jewish”.
For me the response has been frustrating – if we’re talking about freedom of expression violations we have to be consistent. Hamas isn’t exempt. Eye roll all you want; for others though, the treatment has been far worse. Add to the Tatchell example these: A recent report looking at the state of freedom of expression in the UK arts sector detailed how an artist was bullied out of a collective for criticising Hamas; Ahmed Fouad Alkhatib, a Gazan peace activist living in the USA, is relentlessly targeted online — including with death threats — for condemning the group.
Such division, and the inconsistency in approach, is deeply unhelpful. At Index on Censorship we frequently defend the right of peaceful pro-Palestinian voices to be heard because they absolutely have experienced significant silencing – around the world, including in the UK – and that is wrong. Now some within those same spaces are turning on others. It’s a textbook case of free speech for me, not for thee – and it too is wrong.
That the police complied might also look like an anomaly. In truth, it was the result of several disturbing patterns converging. Tatchell was arrested at a protest, and whilst standing in a designated area, something he was forced to point out to the police. Stories like this are fairly par for the course with UK demonstrations these days since the last government pushed through sweeping anti-protest laws. In one of the most stark signs of police overreach, 87-year-old Holocaust survivor Stephen Kapos was questioned earlier this year under caution by police in connection to his peaceful involvement in a pro-Palestine demonstration in January.
In many of these cases, the police don’t seem to be exercising much judgment. With Tatchell, they acted on a report and arrested a protester whose placard was critical, not hateful. He was accused of “racially and religiously aggravated breach of the peace”, and of being part of a counter-protest movement. Perhaps they saw the word Hamas and jumped to the conclusion that he was promoting the group? Perhaps they didn’t read his words before it accusing Israel of genocide? Perhaps they didn’t see his “Free Palestine” badge?
Whatever the reason, it’s lazy work. The police appear to be acting more like blunt algorithms than sentient beings, and it’s not unique to Tatchell. As The Economist warned in its latest issue, police in Britain are arresting 30 people per day for speech online, double the 2017 rate. Some are for serious crimes, while others are for posts that people have found offensive, which fall short of the threshold of being a crime.
So his arrest wasn’t surprising. But it was, and is, deeply worrying. And it was a reminder of several important things, one being that the UK’s draconian protest laws need to go. Several organisations are fighting the new legislation and others need to join in. Beyond these laws the police need to be better trained on the nuances around speech. Their job is to keep the public safe, not to reach for handcuffs every time someone gets reported on.
Finally, those in the protest movement who treat Hamas as beyond reproach should pause to reflect on the name Odai Al-Rubai – a young protester silenced by the very group claiming to defend his people. Great movements can come undone by the authoritarianism within them that they fail to confront, as much as by their enemies. To protect the cause, protesters must stop defending those who would never defend them.
“Saudi Arabia criticised for ignoring the USA’s appalling human rights record” – that was the headline on satirical website News Thump, spoofing this week’s arms deal between the two countries. In these bleak times, I’ll take laughter where I can get it. But behind the joke is a darker truth: the USA’s steady backslide on human rights and Saudi Arabia’s ongoing abuses. This week, it’s Saudi Arabia that demands our attention.
Make no mistake – the petrostate is having a great week (at the top, that is). As is often the case, the good news for the elite rests on suffering at the bottom – and stories the government would rather you didn’t hear. On Wednesday, both Human Rights Watch and FairSquare sounded the alarm over a “surge” in migrant construction worker deaths, as Saudi Arabia ramps up preparations to host the 2034 World Cup. The reports are grim. There have already been fatalities, but pinning down exact numbers is nearly impossible: independent media are muzzled and labour unions banned.
We’ve been here before, with Qatar in 2022. This time we can only hope that speaking up early actually prompts change. We won’t hold our breath though. As our own investigation Oiling the Wheels of Injustice made clear, Saudi Arabia has very successfully thrown money at its image while its human rights record has tumbled.
But perhaps the most pressing story for Index this week is that of British father of four, Ahmed al-Doush. He’s just been sentenced to 10 years in a Riyadh court, allegedly for a tweet he posted seven years ago related to Sudan, which provided military support for Saudi Arabia in Yemen, and for his association with a Saudi critic in exile. He reportedly later deleted the tweet.
He was arrested last August when on holiday with his family. Saudi Arabia has form here: in 2021 Leeds University student Salma al-Shehab was detained during a visit to Saudi Arabia because of social media activity. She was handed a 34-year sentence in 2022 before being released earlier this year, following pressure from several advocacy groups, including Index.
We’ve now written to UK Foreign Secretary David Lammy, urging him to intervene in al-Doush’s case. Al-Doush has already missed the birth of his fourth child. His wife, Nour, says he’s in poor health due to a thyroid condition, raising serious concerns about his access to medical care.’
“The night times are the hardest for me when I’m alone and it’s quiet,” Nour told the Sunday Times ahead of her husband’s trial. Our message to her: Index is here to counter the quiet, and we will try as hard as we can to help get your husband released.