From Gaza to Sudan local reporters are a voice to the voiceless

From Gaza to Sudan local reporters are a voice to the voiceless
6 min read

Fatima el Issawi

11 October, 2024
Local journalists from Gaza to Sudan & Yemen have reported on conflicts despite their lives being at risk. They should be celebrated, writes Fatima el Issawi.
If local reporters in the MENA are killed, they are remembered in a few lines of a communique by a human rights watchdog, while largely considered part of the expected collateral of conflicts, writes Fatima el Issawi. [GETTY]

Little can equal the solitude of local reporters, covering stories about their own people in the knowledge that their work may come at the expense of their own lives. They must navigate an extremely dangerous field where both their journalistic practices and the development of the conflict are highly unpredictable and potentially fatal.

No training can prepare them for what they must deal with; no protection can be entirely effective. Notwithstanding these acute dangers, most of the extremely violent conflicts in our recent times have been covered solely by local reporters; international media having deserted these areas. Despite their extreme vulnerability, the knowledge they hold about their communities and their bonds to them are priceless. They give a voice to the voiceless.

Gaza, Sudan and Yemen

Recent violent conflicts in the MENA, including in Gaza, Sudan, and Yemen, have put local reporters at the forefront of media storytelling, and also in the line of fire. According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, as of 20 September 2024, at least 116 journalists and media workers have been killed in Israel’s war on Gaza, making it the deadliest toll for journalists killed in any military operation in recent times.

The Committee also named at least five journalists who had been deliberately killed, these include Issam Abdallah, Hamza Al Dahdouh, Mustafa Thuraya, Ismail Al Ghoul, and Rami Al Refee. According to the International Federation of Journalists, this toll is much higher, totalling 134 journalists and media workers, while several others have been severely injured or remain missing.

In Sudan, at least three journalists have been killed since the start of the civil war in April 2023. In a conflict that goes largely uncovered by international media, local journalists are detained, placed under house arrest, attacked, subjected to communication blackouts, or forced to leave the country.

Most recently, on 4 June, Sudanese journalist Muawiya Abdel Razek was killed along with three of his family members when militants raided his home in Khartoum.

In Yemen, 45 journalists have been killed since the fighting erupted between the internationally recognised government and the Houthis in 2015, according to the Yemeni syndicate for journalists. Four journalists were sentenced to death before being released in April 2023 as part of a prisoner exchange deal. 165 press platforms halted operations, and 200 local and Arab news websites have been blocked.

Overlooked

But the issue here is not simply about keeping these journalists alive and able to work freely, although their safety is clearly a crucial and urgent one. It is about recognising the role of local journalists as major brokers of knowledge about their communities, centred on the value of humans rather than geo-political tactics or information on military operations.

The knowledge held by these local journalists is vital because it challenges stereotypes spread by international correspondents who are quite often parachuted into these communities with little to no understanding, or even interest in their social context or historical trajectories.

Through dedication, local journalists work against the hierarchy of human life that Western media perpetuates.

The local reporters, most of whom usually come from alternative and citizen media practices, operate in a grey territory; being members of the communities they report on also makes them witnesses, activists and part of the so-called ‘collateral damage’ of civilian victims.

Israel has frequently accused several journalists killed of being members of Hamas; while social media hate campaigns discount their suffering by accusing them of being militants hiding under the hat of journalism. Their Western counterparts, on the other hand, are celebrated for ‘bold journalism’ in reporting from conflict zones. Not to mention, they are protected by their international reputation, training and the considerable institutional resources.

If local reporters in the MENA are killed, they are remembered in a few lines of a communique by a human rights watchdog, while largely considered part of the expected collateral of conflicts. Commemoration and memorialisation is only performed by their own communities.

Bias

While they lead the coverage of extremely violent conflicts ravaging their homelands, local reporters have given the world lessons in bold journalism. Are they biased just because they are unable to perform the detachment that foreign correspondents exercise in their encounters with the field? Their reporting is fact-based, after all, as well as being informed by the communities they are rooted in – a factor that serves as a major source of strength and meaning for their practices.

It is naïve, and even misleading, to imagine that a western-style application of detached impartiality can be requested from local journalists trapped together with their people in unbearable and unpredictable violence. These are realities that cannot be represented without affect, emotional engagement and suffering as a major feature of the storytelling.

In Gaza, for example, unimaginable scenes recently came out of reporting by local journalists. Some reporters have been seen throwing their press helmets in despair as they covered the death of their colleagues live; Some, like Al-Jazeera correspondent in Gaza Wael al-Dahdouh, even covered the death of their own family members.

We watch young, unexperienced reporters, many of whom are covering violent conflicts for the first time, produce fine-grained reporting on the genocide in Gaza. Hind Khoudary, is one example. Also a reporter for Al-Jazeera English, her work has become instrumental. Bissan Owda, whose courage recently won her both a Peabody Award and an Emmy, is a storyteller-turned-reporter whose videos document the human suffering under a genocide.

In the coverage of the ongoing Israeli attacks against Lebanon, I find myself watching mostly young female journalists reporting from their own neighbourhoods. Coping, as much as they can, with the highly unpredictable nature of these attacks, and lack of possible personal protection within the current circumstances.

Recently, four Palestinian journalists were nominated for this year’s Nobel Peace Prize, in an unprecedented move to recognise their crucial contributions in reporting a war in which international media has been absent. As Odwa said, it is important they remain alive, first.

Local reporters in the region have become both those who bear witness to extremely violent conflicts, as well as those who inform the world about them. They have no choice but to keep telling stories on the ground, often at the expense of their life.

With the focus of international media invariably on the narratives of the elite, belligerent tactics and predictions around the future of the struggle, we owe these reporters the duty of listening to their stories and recognising their efforts. Without their steadfast voices, however weak they may seem, we would have little sense of the scale of suffering. Without them, it would seem as if these conflicts take place in depopulated conflict zones or, amongst those perpetuating the violence, and therefore ‘legitimate’ targets. They are treated like faceless victims of their fate.

Fatima el Issawi is a Professor in Journalism and Media Studies at the University of Essex. Her research focuses on the intersection between journalistic practices, political transformation, and conflicts in transitional contexts to democracy in the Middle East and North Africa. Fatima has over fifteen years of experience as international correspondent in conflict zones in the MENA. She is the author of “Arab National Media and Political Change” (Palgrave Macmillan, 2016) and the co-editor of “The Unfinished Arab Spring: Micro-Dynamics of Revolts between Change and Continuity” (Gingko, 2020)

Follow her on X: @elissawi

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Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The New Arab, its editorial board or staff.