2 years | 192 journalists killed

Wars have seldom been fought with the solitary force of weapons. Words, a symbolic expression denoting effective communication with the masses, have often remained the downplayed companion of weapons throughout battles. Hitler unleashed a virtual war on humanity through his Nazi policies, backed by exceptional oratory skills and delicately designed propaganda. Napoleon went on to conquer Europe, but running in the background was a targeted spread of words that hid his many failures and blunders—ensuring that Napoleon is still regarded as a flawless European warrior, minus his Waterloo debacle, in history books. Legends say that Thomas Paine, in the middle of fighting against the mighty British as part of a ragtag American militia, left the battlefield twice to take on an even more painstaking responsibility—writing Common Sense and The American Crisis at a brief interval and disseminating them across the states on horseback. It is a recorded fact in history that these books pumped iron into the blood of Revolutionaries and gave them an elixir just when the Revolution was on the verge of collapse.

Such is the profundity of words. No wonder, then, that regimes with a dictatorial bent of mind never forget to control the flow of words directed against them, aimed at revealing truth. The world is yet to fathom the intensity with which dictators go after wordsmiths, despite credible data and evidence of silencing dissenting voices across the globe.

Israel of today is a living example! When the Nasser Hospital in Gaza was hit by an Israeli airstrike on August 25, 2025, the death toll included five journalists as well. Among the slain journalists were Al Jazeera’s Mohammad Salama, Reuters cameraman Hussam al-Masri, and Mariam Abu Daqqa, a freelance journalist working for AP at the time. Their loss is just yet another chapter in a relentless pattern. In less than two years of conflict, 192 journalists have been killed in Gaza—nearly all of them Palestinians. The Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) has called this the “deadliest and most deliberate” assault on the press it has ever documented. The statistics, however, only tell part of the story. What has emerged, ostensibly, is a decades-long attempt to restrict, censor and eliminate Palestinian journalism, with devastating consequences for those who risk their lives to bear witness.

The wrongdoers fear being recorded as evils in the pages of history. So, they want the history written with their own pen, not of the ones whose truthful nibs will sketch the monster out of them.

A Long History of Control

The struggle between Israel and Palestinian reporters stretches back to 1967, when Israel seized control of Gaza, East Jerusalem and the West Bank in the Six-Day War. Almost immediately, a framework of military orders was imposed to manage what Palestinians could publish. Military Order 101, issued just months later, outlawed “political” assembly and “propagandistic” material. Palestinian editors were forced to submit every page—news reports, advertisements, even crossword puzzles—to Israeli censors before going to print. Violations could mean arrest or deportation.

Despite the restrictions, journalism thrived underground. By the 1980s, Palestinians were printing multiple dailies, weeklies and magazines. Some editions reached tens of thousands of readers, keeping alive a sense of political consciousness even under occupation. Yet censorship meant that entire communities saw their voices filtered or silenced before reaching the page.

Intifada and Suppression

When Palestinians launched the First Intifada in December 1987, Israel tightened its grip on information. Journalists were jailed, licenses revoked, newspapers banned. In just one year, 47 reporters were detained and eight publications suspended.

For Palestinians, these acts revealed, beyond censorship, a sense of fear—that Israel was threatened by their ability to narrate their own reality. The Oslo Accords in the 1990s briefly raised hopes of greater freedoms. But both Israeli authorities and the newly created Palestinian Authority clamped down on media deemed too critical. Palestinian journalists soon found themselves hemmed in by two regimes of censorship.

From Censorship to Killing

By the early 2000s, Israel’s tactics escalated from silencing words to silencing lives. Palestinian photographer Imad Abu Zahra was shot in Jenin in 2002. British filmmaker James Miller was killed in Rafah in 2003. Reuters cameraman Fadel Shana was targeted in Gaza in 2008.

The 2018 Great March of Return protests offered another grim reminder. Palestinian journalists Yaser Murtaja and Ahmed Abu Hussein, both wearing clearly marked “PRESS” vests, were killed by Israeli gunfire. Over 100 others were injured. The killings shocked the world, but accountability never followed.

Even internationally recognized reporters were not spared. In May 2022, Palestinian-American journalist Shireen Abu Akleh was shot dead while covering a raid in Jenin. Her funeral drew tens of thousands of mourners, yet Israeli police were filmed beating pallbearers carrying her coffin. Israeli authorities eventually admitted a “high probability” that their forces had fired the fatal shot, but dismissed it as accidental. No charges were filed.

The Law Versus the Battlefield

Humanitarian laws mark a distinction between two categories of journalists operating in conflict zones—war correspondents and independent journalists. War correspondents are defined as “persons who accompany the armed forces without actually being members thereof”. This clearly implies that even the war correspondents, aside from independent journalists, enjoy civilian status and protections that follow—in accordance with Articles 79.2 and 51.3 of Protocol I.

Notably, the participants in the Diplomatic Conference held in Geneva from 1974 to 1977 advocated for inclusion of a special provision on “measures of protection for journalists” in Protocol I of the Third Geneva Convention. However, the only reason the framers of Protocol I did not wish to create a special status for journalists was that “any increase in the number of persons with a special status, necessarily accompanied by an increase in protective signs, tends to weaken the protective value of each protected status already accepted.” This legal window should not be allowed to be exploited as a loophole. Parties in conflict must be pushed hard to comply with civilian protection protocols for journalists.

Unfortunately, despite unambiguous legal enunciation and crystal clear rationale, Israel has been repeatedly targeting journalists in Gaza City, perhaps with a sense of targeted animosity. It has argued that its strikes are aimed at “legitimate military objectives”, often accusing slain reporters of being Hamas operatives. However, proof is rarely presented to back such allegations.

The CPJ’s investigation results clearly counter Israel’s claims. In 2023, months before Hamas’ attacks on October 7 triggered Israel’s ongoing war in Gaza, CPJ released a report describing a “deadly pattern” of force against journalists. The report concluded that Israel almost never holds its soldiers accountable for such killings, fostering a culture of impunity.

Reporting From the Rubble

Since October 2023, Gaza has become the most dangerous place in the world to be a journalist. With foreign correspondents barred from entering, Palestinian reporters have become the only eyes and ears on the ground. They document bombings, sift through rubble, and livestream carnage even as they bury their own families.

The risks are extraordinary. Many are killed in so-called “double-tap” strikes—where an initial missile is followed by another aimed at rescuers and reporters rushing to the scene. Others face online smear campaigns and threats to their families.

Few stories capture this anguish more powerfully than that of Wael al-Dahdouh, Al Jazeera’s Gaza bureau chief. In October 2023, he learned live on air that an Israeli strike had killed his wife, two children and grandson. The next day, he was back on screen, reporting the news. Less than two years later, his colleague Anas al-Sharif was killed in Gaza City, alongside five other journalists, while covering another bombardment.

Silencing the Storytellers

The attack on Nasser Hospital this month reinforced the dangers Palestinian journalists face. Freelancers working for Reuters and the Associated Press were among the five media workers killed that day. Both agencies have long pressed Israel to allow foreign correspondents into Gaza. It is a request that is echoed by a coalition of 27 governments. Israel has refused. In effect, Palestinian journalists remain the world’s only witnesses to Gaza’s devastation—yet they are systematically targeted as they report it.

The battle over Gaza is not just military—it is also about narrative. Who gets to tell the story of war, and who is prevented from speaking? For Israel, controlling information has long been as strategic as controlling territory. For Palestinians, journalism has become an act of survival and resistance.

But the human cost is immense. Nearly 200 journalists have been killed since October 2023 alone. Each loss represents not only a silenced voice but also a shrinking window into Gaza’s daily realities.

An Unanswered Question

The international community has condemned the killings. Press freedom groups have documented patterns. Governments have called for accountability. Yet nothing has changed on the ground.

The Nasser Hospital strike, like those before it, underscores a brutal truth: Palestinian journalists are paying with their lives to ensure the world knows what is happening in Gaza. Their deaths pose a question that remains unanswered: will the world ever hold Israel accountable for turning journalism itself into a battlefield?

The answer is not simple, as it is entangled with dirty geopolitics and partisan power play among nations. How much to expect from the renowned International agencies, is no mystery in today’s lopsided world order. What is the solution, then? Struggle—something that comes at a price but is invaluable for human existence and dignity. Perhaps that is the reason that journalists, despite knowing well what they are opting for, enter the battlefields, not as soldiers, but with responsibility no less profound, and sacrifice no less sacred, even if ignored by the world. The question is how the world responds to their struggle of telling evil an evil, staring into its face. India has expressed its concerns, saying “the killing of journalists is shocking and deeply regrettable”. The must collectively stand against the targeted killing of journalists in war zones, else it will ending decapacitating itself—its eyes wide shut and ears further deaf.

Views expressed are personal