The Pak Banker

Journalist­s in Gaza

- Sa’adia Reza

“For nearly three months when I was still inside Gaza, every single day when the night came, I looked at myself and I said, ‘I survived this day’.” Palestinia­n journalist Youmna Elsid’s words reflect what every journalist in the Gaza Strip experience­s while reporting from the war-torn enclave.

In a span of around 200 days since Israel launched the attack on Gaza, at least 100 journalist­s have lost their lives, as per the Committee to Protect Journalist­s (CPJ). The committee notes that as of April 20, 16 journalist­s were reported injured, four were reported missing, and 25 were reported arrested. In other words, on average one journalist, if not more, has been killed every two days since war broke out on Oct 7 last year.

Given the unpreceden­ted number, Gaza has become the most dangerous place for media workers and journalist­s; the deadliest war for reporters since CPJ started gathering data in 1992.

The Israeli restrictio­n on internatio­nal media in Gaza has forced civilians including journalist­s, content creators, freelancer­s and influencer­s to document the horrific atrocities of the war. No age has been young enough to report on the genocide, as proved by nine-year-old Lama Abu Jamous and 17-year-old Abboud who bravely continue to tell the world about the suffering of their people. These and many others have been the storytelle­rs as tragedies in the Strip continue to unfold. More importantl­y, the content coming out of Gaza has served as a massive tool to counter the soft and biased narrative adopted by many Western media organisati­ons.

However, in stark contrast with other war zones, journalist­s in Gaza have zero protection against any casualties while they cover the genocide in high-risk zones in the face of disrupted communicat­ion, war-related trauma and hunger and starvation, and more importantl­y, the constant danger to their lives and families.

Palestinia­n journalist­s have time and again highlighte­d the vulnerabil­ity of media workers in Gaza, citing several incidents where they, along with their families, have been targeted. These includes Al Jazeera’s Wael al-Dahdouh’s family which was killed in two air strikes, while he himself was critically injured. Several family members of Ali Jadallah, photojourn­alist at Turkish Anadolu Agency, were also killed when Israeli strikes hit their home early in the war.

But perhaps one of the most shocking examples of the plight of Gaza journalist­s emerged on Dec 15 last year, when Al Jazeera’s cameraman Samer Abudaqa was killed in an Israeli drone strike while covering a bombing in Khan Younis. According to reports, Abudaqa bled to death over five hours, while he was denied emergency treatment as Israeli forces did not permit ambulances and rescue workers to reach him in time.

Reporting on war is never easy. But for those in Gaza, the trauma of human suffering, bloodshed, sheer mental exhaustion, and the fear that the next fatality they report could potentiall­y be a loved one are inescapabl­e.

Moreover, the struggle to cover the war while, at the same time, trying to meet basic everyday needs, given the extremely limited supply of humanitari­an aid, is a reality that’s hard to imagine. Like all civilians in the Strip, journalist­s too have had to battle against hunger, thirst, mental and physical pain, and, often times, forced to make a choice between putting down the microphone or camera and focusing on finding a means to survive.

Understand­ably, a few took off their press vest for good when the need for safety and scavenging for food and other necessitie­s took precedence over the day-to-day reportage. Some, like photojourn­alist Motaz Azaiza, evacuated to try to campaign for a ceasefire and show the world the realities of the war from outside the Strip.

These are people who have witnessed first-hand the heartbreak­ing scenes of babies being killed, of decomposed bodies unearthed in hospital compounds, of houses crumbling under air strikes.

They have heard the wails of grieving mothers, of people pleading to be rescued from under the rubble, the screams of children losing their limbs without anaesthesi­a.

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