12 Aug 14 | Israel, News and features, Palestine, Politics and Society
Khaled Hamad was killed while reporting on the Gaza conflict.
News coverage of the ongoing Gaza conflict would be infinitely poorer without local journalists, but it’s clear that international media needs to show their commitment by providing Palestinian reporters and fixers with extra support.
Images of bloodied press vests have become a dark motif of the latest Gaza war. One of the most striking came from 22-year-old photographer Rami Rayan, killed during the shelling of a market in the Shujayah district on the 30 July. The same attack also killed journalist Sameh al-Aryan, aged 26. Before this came the pictures of Khaled Hamed, pulled from the rubble of Shujayah with his broken video camera at his side on the 20 July. In total, 13 Palestinian journalists have been killed in over a month of fighting, according to the International Federation of Journalists.
An earlier statement by the IFJ also listed the names of seven journalists who had been injured when they were struck by shrapnel, with six of these injuries occurring while the journalists were in the field. The seventh was injured when her house was destroyed by an Israeli bombardment.
A journalist’s bullet-proof vest does more than just physically protect the wearer – the “PRESS” marking it is designed to show that they are never a legitimate target. This should stand apart from even the high civilian death toll of this war. Marking oneself as a journalist is to appeal to the so-called “rules of engagement”, that attacking journalists or anywhere where there may be journalists, is a breach of a code that has, until now, lasted since journalists first took to the battlefields to report.
In Gaza, this code has sadly long since worn thin. Hamid Shehab was killed when his parked car was struck by a rocket outside his house on the 9 July. According to the IFJ, his car was “clearly marked as a press vehicle”.
There is no doubt that covering this war has taken its toll on every journalist that has operated in Gaza since fighting began on the 8 July. But sadly, the body count suggests that the dangers for Palestinian media workers covering their homeland in a time of crisis, and those for international journalists who enter to cover the war, are distinctly different. Palestinian media workers include those working for international or local outlets, as well as those working as fixers for international media. The role of a fixer is one that is often overlooked – especially in terms of safety.
In a statement on the 6 August, the Israeli Government Press Office (GPO) stated that they had issued accreditation to 705 journalists from over 42 countries. This is not necessarily the number of journalists who entered Gaza to cover the war, but a GPO card is needed to do so. If even half of this number succeeded to enter and leave Gaza without coming to any harm, they still compare favourably to the numbers of Palestinian media workers who have been harmed.
The Israeli Defense Force (IDF) have taken a certain amount of care to protect international journalists operating on the ground in Gaza, at one point relocating them to two hotels in the strip in order to provide a level of protection during a period of particularly heavy shelling. Although fixers or other Palestinian media workers were free to shelter alongside the international press in the lobby of these hotels, the journey alone may have proved lethal. Add to this that Gazan journalists are unlikely to choose to leave their families at home to suffer heavy shelling while they themselves enjoy this nominal protection.
Even with the IDF awareness of media workers the offices of Al Aqsa TV and Radio, Wattan Radio and the National Media agency were destroyed, and workers at Al Jazeera’s office in Gaza city were forced to evacuate following “warning shots” fired at the building. This occurred days after Al Jazeera was threatened by Israeli Foreign Minister Avigdor Lieberman, who stated at a press conference on 21 July that the foreign ministry was taking steps to investigate the network, with “the intent of not allowing it to broadcast anymore from Israel”.
A tentative ceasefire is currently allowing some respite on the ground in Gaza. But many of the journalists who have left the strip have said that this is not the last war they expect to cover there. Sadly, this is also not the first time that attacks on media outlets have been part of wider attacks on Gaza.
The deaths of Palestinian journalists was also a feature of the 2012 war, when three journalists were killed. One of the most hotly-debated points of this latest bout of destruction has been what constitutes a “legitimate target”. There is one lesson that must stand apart from this discussion: no journalist should ever be included in that category.
The following are statements from fixers and journalists who have been involved in covering Gaza.
In the case of Gaza, nobody is safe. As a fixer I am more exposed to dangers because of continuous movement to the “hot zones”. Last Friday, during the ceasefire, I was 100m away from the front line with the Israeli army in Beit Hanoun. I don’t have equipment for protecting myself like a flak jacket or helmet – my movement from my house to the hotels [where journalists stay] adds more risk. We depend on marking our car with words like TV, hoping that the Israelis will avoid us. What normally privileges foreign journalists over local ones is their financial capabilities.”
— Amjed Tantish is from Beit Lahia, in the north Gaza strip.
Moving around under constant shelling, I wasn’t sure if I would make it back home. I couldn’t get a bulletproof vest, as they are so expensive and I’m a freelancer – I can’t afford it. But also, there is no one who would volunteer to bring one into Gaza from Jerusalem for me. Working without it is risky though. Another danger to Palestinians is that they can be accused of being pro-Israeli. Internationals can come and go, but Palestinians will point fingers at me if I write something they don’t like. I wish that there was an organization that was protecting Palestinian journalists – but as a freelancer, I am responsible for my life. International outlets should take into account that the dangers faced by the local journalists they hire may be quite different – but that should apply to all conflict zones, not just Gaza.”
— Abeer Ayyoub, freelance journalist, Gaza City.
I am usually lucky to find an available flak jacket. Usually I don’t wear protective gear- I would like to buy some, but they are expensive and hard to get during wartime. Instead, I try and assess whether the situation is safe enough to be in, and if it seems too dangerous, I leave. I call ahead to people in the area to see if it’s safe, to find out what the safest route is and to coordinate with people on the ground. For sure, I could get killed. I feel like I could lose everything sometimes. But it’s my work, it’s what I do to get the message out to the world. Some of the people I work with appreciate the work and the risk, but 80 percent don’t care about the risks we take. Most people don’t know about what we do for them. They don’t think about us dying for a picture they sell for $50.”
— Mohammed Rajab, a fixer based in Gaza City.
Danger in this war is everywhere- nowhere is safe. You could survive the hardest hit places, and die in places you think are the safest. I thought that heading to church to do story on displaced families is safe. The next day, it was bombed. Palestinian journalists face different dangers to international journalists – there is a form of discrimination among Gaza-based news agencies. Local staff don’t dare to speak out on this, but if there is a bulletproof car, then international staff have priority to drive it. International journalists are protected by insurance and an affiliation to international and national journalists unions. This gives them protection and insurances if something goes wrong. In Gaza, if a journalist is killed, media outlets cannot care less about their families. Some news agencies know Palestinian journalists well enough in crises, but after the war ends, they dump them. It’s hard for journalists to make themselves indispensible. The outlets I have freelanced for do understand the limitations – but I’ve heard of others that seem to think you could get close enough to danger to hold a rocket in your hands, i.e. get exclusive shots. A friend of mine was injured and his outlet dumped him to find someone new, exactly like you do with car spare parts.”
— Mohammed Omer, a freelance journalist based in Rafah
Israeli forces will open fire on Palestinians, but not internationals. Internationals are just less likely to be shot at – I make sure I wear a bulletproof vest and a helmet, and make sure that I’m clearly marked as press. We need this protective gear. The vest and helmet cost me $1000- and there is no compensation for hazards, even when I work for international media outlets. If you are a Palestinian national that means no insurance either. Foreign journalists at least have the chance of getting their media outlets to cover their life insurance or provide compensation.”
— Yousef Al-Helou, a journalist who covered the two previous wars in Gaza, currently in London
This article was published on August 12, 2014 at indexoncensorship.org
07 Aug 14 | News and features, Politics and Society, Religion and Culture
First, the inevitable throat clearing and hand wringing. The most recent conflict between Israel and Hamas has been beyond horrendous. As I type, the ceasefire is holding. Over 1,800 Palestinians have lost their lives, more than 300 of them children. Dozens of Israelis, mostly young conscript soldiers, are also dead. There is an enormous imbalance, in firepower and in defensive capability. Better men than I have gone mad attempting to imagine a way to stop this happening again. Even that statement, I realise, reads like a cop out, but a particular sense of despair looms over this latest manifestation of a war that is only ever dormant at best.
Some clearly feel that the horror has gone too far. Author Hari Kunzru, for example, has decided to join calls for a cultural boycott of Israel. Writing on his Facebook wall, Kunzru cited an op-ed in the Jerusalem Post which suggested the “dismantling” of Gaza and the “relocation” of its non-humanitarian population. Kunzru also cited “”the targeting of schools and hospitals, the picture of a child my son’s age being dug out of rubble that reduced me to helpless tears, the total disregard of the Netanyahu government for international laws and norms…” as signs that Israel was a country that had “lost its moral compass”.
This is notable not because Hari is a well-known figure in the arts world – there are enough of those willing to sign up to any cause that comes along, and more than enough already willing to tell us exactly what they think about Israel/Palestine, or Cuba, or any other issue to which sections of the left are drawn to, like particularly verbose moths to the flames of revolution, or, worse, the great unspecified “resistance”.
No, this is notable exactly because Hari Kunzru is not one of those people. Hari is thoughtful and unshowy. And Hari has actually put in real work for free speech. I recall, in 2012, scrabbling to find a local sympathetic lawyer who would represent Hari when he faced serious risk of prosecution for reading from the Satanic Verses at the Jaipur Literary Festival, in solidarity with Salman Rushdie. He has made himself available for organisations such as Index and English PEN well beyond the call of duty. So when someone such as Hari Kunzru identifies with a cultural boycott, it means we have to take the question seriously.
The concept of boycotts, and particularly cultural and academic boycotts, have for a long time been problematic for people engaged in the promotion of free expression. Most criticisms of censorship are based on a fundamental assumption that communication of ideas is, in and of itself, a good thing. Some vague belief abounds based loosely on the Hegelian triad of thesis, antithesis, synthesis.
This can sometimes sound naive, but it does lead to useful perspectives on any argument: 1) that there are entirely sincere, well-meaning people, who may hold views completely anathema to your own, and 2) following from that, in formulating any position on proscription of certain attitudes or beliefs, or people, one must imagine being on the wrong end of the argument – a kind of categorical imperative crossed with the “golden rule”, that can end up making the certainty of others unsettling.
Boycotters often carry that absolutism and conviction that brooks no argument: a simple righteousness anchored in the belief that their view of the world is so self-evidently correct that anyone who is unconvinced by them is either deviant or deficient.
Then there is always the question of who benefits from boycotts? And who is hurt? The traditional, free expression view on cultural boycotts is that they punish precisely the people who are most outward looking and also most likely to seek change in their own countries. Is it fair to punish the artists for the actions of the government, as we have seen with the cancellation of Israeli show The City at the Edinburgh Festival following protests by the Scottish Palestine Solidarity Campaign? Or to request that the UK Jewish Film Festival should ditch Israeli government funding before it can use a venue, as Kliburn’s Tricycle Theatre has, in the name, it says, of attempting to depoliticise the event?
It is argued that theatre companies, dance troupes etc are legitimate targets for boycott if they benefit from state funding, but in truth, there is hardly a theatre company in the civilised world that does not take funding from government agencies: indeed, most western liberals see state agency funding of arts as a sign, even a crucial part, of a healthy democracy, and it is rare that state-funded companies engage in Red-Army Choir style propaganda tours – though Venezuela’s Orquesta Sinfónica Simón Bolívar, decked out in baseball jackets in the colours of the national flag, can sometimes feel a little too Potemkin for comfort.
Writing on the subject (£) of anti-Israel boycotts back in 2012, Irish Times literary editor Fintan O’Toole drafted these five rules for artists and writers invited to perform in countries with dubious records:
1) Don’t take money, directly or indirectly, from governments that systematically abuse human rights, or from oligarchs who benefit from those abuses.
2) Give a significant part of your fee to human-rights defenders or oppressed artists in the relevant country.
3) Don’t accept any restrictions on your own freedom of expression when you’re in that country.
4) Don’t perform to audiences forcibly segregated on lines of race, gender or ethnicity.
5) Don’t let yourself be used for propaganda purposes.
This was very much the approach used by Sweden’s Loreen during and after the Eurovision Song Contest hosted by Azerbaijan in 2012. The singer made efforts to meet opposition figures and voice their concerns in press conferences and TV interviews, and was widely praised for it.
In fact, O’Toole’s rules are not a million miles from the boycott pledge signed by Hari Kunzru, which states: “We support the Palestinian struggle for freedom, justice and equality. In response to the call from Palestinian artists and cultural workers for a cultural boycott of Israel, we pledge to accept neither professional invitations to Israel, nor funding from any institution linked to its government until it complies with international law and universal principles of human rights.”, though there is a crucial difference in that the boycott statement punishes both state and non-state entities, thus preventing signatories from accepting invitations from, say, a hypothetical human rights group.
And this is the problem I will continue to have with boycotts against nations, particularly nations’ cultural endeavours. They seem too blunt, too broad and flawed. Even the much-cited cultural boycott against South African apartheid went awry, with the bizarre irony of Paul Simon being criticised for technically breaking the boycott by travelling to the country to work with Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the black acapella singing group that was far from a friend of the regime.
But the problem is that for many seeking to register their disgust at the actions of foreign governments, boycott seems the only option. Perhaps it’s time for those of us uncomfortable with the idea of shutting down free speech to figure out new avenues of expression.
This column was posted on August 7, 2014 at indexoncensorship.org
06 Feb 14 | Palestine, Politics and Society
Israeli authorities have told a Palestinian TV station to stop broadcasting amid claims it was disrupting Israeli television broadcasting.
Sheraa TV, a local news station in the city of Tulkarem, had received several notices from the Israeli authorities to immediately stop broadcasting otherwise they would take action and force its closure.
The Israelis originally claimed that Sheraa TV’s broadcasting was disrupting communications, in particular those at Israel’s major international airport. However, after the TV station consulted with technicians from the Palestinian ministry of communications, who confirmed their devices were not causing any interference, the Israeli authorities then said the interference was affecting TV networks instead.
Mohamed Zeidan, Sheraa TV director general, told the Palestinian Center for Development and Media Freedoms (MADA): “We have taken the decision to stop broadcasting two days ago until we find a solution to this issue, because it is no stranger to the occupation authorities to raid media outlets and confiscate broadcasting equipment, which cost us a fortune.”
According to a report by MADA between 2008 and 2012 Israeli authorities targeted media outlets on a number of occasions.
The MADA has since called upon all countries and human rights organisations to pressure Israel into respecting freedom of expression and to commit to the international laws and agreements signed with the Palestinian National Authority.
10 Apr 13 | Middle East and North Africa, Newswire
On 25 December 2012, Gaza’s Hamas government announced a ban on Palestinian journalists working with Israeli media.
This decision affected just three journalists in Gaza, one of whom is 25-year-old Abeer Ayyoub. Abeer went from working as a fixer for visiting foreign journalists to writing stories herself, and in the process landing a job with Israeli newspaper Ha’aretz. Starting at the beginning of the last attack on Gaza in November 2012, she quickly made a name for herself by breaking stories that most journalists operating in the Strip had never realised existed.
I spoke to Abeer about what the ban means for her work, and for the state of press freedom in Gaza today
Ruth Michaelson: When we spoke the other day, you described working for Ha’aretz as “your dream”. Why did you want to work with Israeli media?
Abeer Ayyoub: Because I wanted to be the Palestinian voice in Israeli media, to send a message and cover these events from Palestinian eyes — I didn’t want Israeli journalists to be talking about something they’ve never seen [Israeli citizens are banned from entering Gaza]. So I wanted to be the one talking to Israelis, to communicate exactly what is going on here. Most Israelis are misled about what life is like here — they think that we’re all terrorists, which is not the case: Gaza has many civilians who have nothing to do with resistance. Sure, they have their own affiliations, but people have lives here, and they want to live in peace.
RM: Did you feel under threat while you were working for Ha’aretz?
AA: No, never. People showed understanding about my reasons for doing this; my family, my colleagues, even the Gaza authorities were supportive when I asked them before starting at Ha’aretz. They told me that they were in favour of having Palestinians writing for the Israeli media. The criticisms I heard or felt came from people who aren’t involved with the media, so I didn’t take them seriously.
RM: Why did you decide to talk to the Hamas government before going to work for Israeli media?
AA: I hate to do things in secret: I want to do everything under the light. I wasn’t asking for permission, I was just informing them of what was going on. They told me “go ahead, we never banned anyone from working with Israeli media, and it’s the same for you.” It was the head of media relations in Gaza who told me that, the same person who later told me I was banned.
RM: What reason did Hamas give for the ban?
AA: There were several different reasons given — that Israeli media is hostile to us, and that Israel doesn’t allow Palestinians to go inside and cover what’s going on, so we’re not going to allow them to do the same here. But the third and most depressing reason is that they expressed concern that journalists who work with Israeli media will ultimately become spies.
RM: Why do you think they changed their minds like this?
AA: It’s been very difficult to figure this out, as the reasons kept changing — especially as they banned their officials from talking with Israeli media in the same ruling. They certainly have their reasons, but it’s none of the reasons they’ve made public.
RM: So how were you informed about the ban?
AA: Just like everyone around me, I read it in the papers. No one called me or contacted me to let me know. So after I read about it, I went to the media office and asked them if they were serious about this. They told me that they were, and that I had no other choice but to submit to this decision. Initially I thought that I wouldn’t submit to this, but then I reasoned that I have no wish to create extra problems for myself.
RM: What were the risks involved if you hadn’t complied?
AA: The statement said that anyone working for Israeli media will be “punished”: I didn’t want punishment or to be arrested, as I have work that I still want to do here nonetheless. The thing is that a lot of normal people on the ground are against working with Israeli media, so I didn’t think that I would find a lot of support. I decided to stop for a while until things change, and I’m sure that they will change, because Hamas tend to take decisions like this and then repeal them at a later date.
RM: What do you think is the reason behind such a sweeping ruling that only affects three people?
AA: This is the thing — there have been allegations that there are people who work for Israeli media in secret, with no bylines. But again, this was a ruling also designed to affect Hamas officials, and I believe this was aimed primarily at them. Once again, the reason for this will be anything except the reasons they gave.
RM: The timing of the decision seems political, in that it came after the ceasefire with Israel. Do you think that this has anything to do with the ruling?
AA: This was one of Hamas’s claims, that Israel had targeted journalists during the war, and so if Israel doesn’t respect our journalists then we don’t want them to work with Israel. How these two things are related is something that I don’t personally understand.
RM: How comfortable do you feel working as a journalist in Gaza now, following this ban?
AA: I feel comfortable at the moment, my relationship with the government is good. I work a lot with other forms of international media, and things seem to be okay. Sometimes [the Hamas government] remind me, with provocations or questions about whether I’m still working with Ha’aretz, that they are still focused on this, even if they say it as a joke. But this to me is nothing too serious.
RM: Many elements of both Israeli and Palestinian life are hidden from view given the restrictions on freedom of movement, do you feel like the decision contributes to this?
AA: Exactly. Now there is a real problem — things are disjointed. I can’t express myself within Israeli media: this is permitting any potential media bias, or at the very least reports lacking in sufficient information.
RM: What will be missing from Israeli media discourse as a result of this decision?
AA: Basically I think the gap between civilians on both sides will be widened. We only know about their government, and they only know about ours. The things that I wanted to write about were what normal, everyday people are doing — people like me or my family and friends: we hate the on-going conflict. We believe in resistance, but things are not like the normal depiction of Palestinians in the media, which is likely to portray us as inherently violent.
RM: What would you say is the state of press freedom in Gaza?
AA: I would say it’s changing from time to time, sometimes we have enough space to write, but other times we are denied our simplest rights. It’s the case wherever; governments always try to control journalism when it comes to writing about them.
Ruth Michaelson is a freelance journalist. She tweets at @_Ms_R
