Setting the record straight on CPJ and Palestinian journalists

I had no intention of writing about the organisation I work for. Institutions should be judged by their work, not by opinion pieces written in their defence. But I am writing today because the allegations directed at the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) no longer concern the organisation alone. They call into question the integrity of people I know, misrepresent work I have been part of, and cast doubt on a documentation process to which entire teams have devoted themselves during one of the most complex wars of our time.

This is not a statement on behalf of CPJ. It is my personal testimony.

I joined CPJ in April 2025 as Regional Director for the Middle East and North Africa because I believed in its mission long before I worked there. I have often said that working at CPJ was a professional dream of mine. After more than a year inside the organisation, I can say with confidence that what I witnessed did not diminish that belief—it strengthened it.

From the inside, I experienced successive crises, unprecedented pressure, and wars in which every piece of information became the subject of political and media contestation. It is in moments like these—not in times of calm—that an institution's independence is truly tested.

Throughout this period, not once did anyone attempt to influence my professional judgment or direct my decisions. I was never instructed to alter a conclusion, remove a name, add another, or align research findings with a political position, the wishes of a donor, or the views of the Board of Directors. I was never asked to compromise my principles or the standards by which I work. I was never asked to change my language or soften my words.

Had that happened, I would not have stayed for a single day. This is not an abstract position. It is the reality I live every day.

That is why I feel compelled to respond to allegations that CPJ has changed—or intends to change—its definition of who qualifies as a journalist, or that it has altered its methodology in response to political pressure. I witnessed nothing of the sort, and such claims are entirely inconsistent with the organisation I came to know.

The methodology governing CPJ's documentation of journalists, both globally and in the Middle East, has not changed. It is publicly available and open for anyone to examine. What occurred recently began as a review of a limited number of cases after new evidence emerged, including statements issued by armed groups identifying some individuals previously documented in CPJ's database as members of their military wings. Following an independent assessment of that evidence, the records were updated by applying the same methodology that has guided CPJ's work for years—not by adopting new standards.

After additional information emerged, I requested that management authorise a comprehensive review of the entire database. That request was met with neither objection nor attempts to influence the process.

To be clear, this review—led by a small team within the Middle East and North Africa program—is entirely independent. It began at the start of June and remains ongoing. It was prompted solely by the emergence of new evidence that warranted re-examining parts of the database.

Nor is this the first review CPJ has undertaken, and it is unlikely to be the last. The organisation has long treated its database as a living record, updating it whenever credible new evidence becomes available. The current review focuses on cases documented between 2023 and 2026 involving journalists killed or targeted by the Israeli military in Gaza during the genocide.

That is the essence of responsible documentation: the willingness to revisit the record when new facts emerge.

Indeed, I would have lost confidence in the organisation had it refused to review its records despite credible evidence that challenged earlier findings. Credibility does not lie in refusing to revisit published conclusions. It lies in having the integrity to correct the record when the evidence requires it.

Another recurring allegation is that CPJ's Board of Directors decides who is added to or removed from the database. That is false. Documentation decisions were discussed by research and editorial teams, guided by evidence and methodology, without interference from the Board—or even from senior management—in evaluating individual cases or imposing predetermined outcomes.

I do not ask anyone to believe me simply because I work at CPJ. If anything, I understand that my position may lead some to question my words. I ask only that people examine the facts. Review what CPJ has published and said over the years, much of which directly contradicts the claims now being circulated.

The methodology is public. The changes made to the database are public, together with explanations for those changes. And the database itself is continuously reviewed whenever new information emerges, whether it confirms previous assessments or requires them to be revised.

This is not the conduct of an organisation seeking to protect a political narrative. It is the conduct of an organisation whose first loyalty is to the truth as established by evidence.

I am not writing to defend the name of an institution. Institutions endure—or they do not.

I am writing to defend the journalists who entrusted us with their information because they believed we would handle it independently. I am writing to defend my colleagues, who have carried an immense psychological burden while documenting the killing of journalists under extraordinarily difficult circumstances. And I am writing to defend the very principle of documentation itself, because evidence-free allegations do not merely damage one institution; they erode confidence in every serious effort to build an accurate historical record of attacks on the press.

Finally, I am writing to defend myself.

After more than a year at CPJ, I remain convinced that joining the organisation was the right decision. Had I felt, at any point, that my professional independence or ethical principles were being compromised, I would not have remained.

I am not asking anyone to adopt my account.

It is simply the testimony of someone who was there, who witnessed these events first-hand, and who believes that, at this particular moment, silence would be a betrayal.

Sara Qudah is the Middle East and North Africa Regional Director for the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ).

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Opinions expressed here are the author's own, and do not necessarily reflect those of their employer, or of The New Arab and its editorial board or staff.