This post is also available in:
Journalist Ruba al-Ajrami walks with a cameraman amid the rubble – Source: social media.
Par Fidaa Ahmed
On a street in ruins, freelance journalist Ansam al-Qatta’, 34, stands amid the rubble and smoke, leftovers of a recent airstrike. Wearing her press vest, she clutches her notebook and phone, connected to a fragile network she managed to find on the roof of a cracked building. Her eyes watch the sky more than her screen—every rumble of a plane could herald death.
Around her, displaced children and women search through the rubble of their homes. Ansam tries to collect their stories before a missile silences their voices.
Every heartbeat could be the last
“My heartbeat is louder than the sound of the bombing. I go to work knowing that I may not come back,” she says, wiping the dust from her worn helmet.
“We work in the most dangerous place in the world. We risk our lives to transmit voices and images. I have been covering northern Gaza since the beginning of the war. I haven’t fled south, despite the risks. The threats are military but also digital: the Israeli army incites hatred against us on social media,” she continues.
Every colleague lost opens a new wound. “Every time a colleague is killed, I tell myself that I could be next. Sometimes I imagine how my friends would mourn me.” She no longer trusts her equipment to protect her: “Our vests and helmets are worn out. They no longer protect us. On the contrary—they frighten people. Displaced persons are afraid to see us dressed like this because journalists are too often targeted.”
Ansam concludes angrily, “How many of us have to be killed for the world to wake up? Perhaps nothing will change, as long as foreign journalists cannot enter Gaza to tell the story themselves. Israel kills us on live broadcasts, before the eyes of the whole world. International solidarity needs to pick up, become daily, stronger. We are simply asking for an end to the systematic targeting of journalists, whose only crime is showing the truth.”
The massacre at Nasser Hospital
Ansam’s questions echo those of dozens of other colleagues, especially after the massacre on August 25, which was broadcast live: five journalists, including one woman, were killed while documenting the strikes from the Nasser medical complex in Khan Younis, southern Gaza.
People are afraid to see us dressed like this because journalists are too often targeted.
Since then, violations have continued. According to the Government Information Office in Gaza, 248 journalists had been killed as of September 2, 2025.
A global campaign to protect journalists: is this enough?
In response, Reporters Without Borders (RSF) and the Avaaz international movement launched a global campaign at the end of August to denounce Israeli attacks on the press in Gaza.
Their warning is clear: “At the rate journalists are being killed in Gaza by the Israeli army, there will soon be no one left to keep you informed.”
The campaign denounces the destruction of homes and offices, the persecution of people even inside hospitals, and the prevention of the wounded from receiving treatment. It calls for an end to impunity and for the protection of journalists in war zones.
“Sometimes, we become the news”
Amid the ruins, freelance photojournalist Yaacoub Salameh, 33, continues his work despite the fear. He has been working with several Arab and international agencies since the beginning of the war. “The risks are increasing every day. I’m not only afraid for myself but for my family and friends. We’ve seen colleagues cover the bombings, only to discover that their loved ones were among the victims. And sometimes it’s the other way around: the families of journalists learn that their son or daughter has become the news.”
Every day is a struggle for survival
“Every moment could be my last. It could have been me instead of my colleagues who were killed. We live in a state of constant suspense: who will survive? Who will die? The occupation wants to destroy the Palestinian narrative by silencing its witnesses.”
August was the most difficult month for journalists in Gaza. “We are not protected by our agencies, not by international unions, not even by the law. I’ve lost friends like Moaz Abu Taha and Maryam Abu Daqqa. Their absence is painful, both humanly and professionally,” he adds. “If this continues, there will soon be no journalists left alive in Gaza. I hope that support for journalists will continue and not remain so ad hoc.”
Between work and motherhood
For Ruba al-Ajrami, a correspondent for the Turkish channel TRT, covering the war has become both a vocation and a destiny. Since October 7, 2023, she has been working nonstop, as of 9 AM every morning, despite the risks and massacres targeting media professionals.
The occupation wants to destroy the Palestinian narrative by silencing its witnesses.
A mother of four, she reveals an even harsher reality. “My baby was three months old when I decided to start covering the events. My daughter is now two years and two months old: she has grown up in this war. I should have spent more time with her, but my commitment kept me from that.”
She describes this heartbreak. “Being in a dangerous zone while my children are elsewhere in another dangerous zone is unbearable. They cry every time a colleague is targeted. Especially after Maryam was killed, our colleague, mother of one. She worked with us in the south. They’re afraid for me, and I don’t always know how to reassure them.”
Ruba confesses her doubts. “Every time a journalist is targeted, I wonder if I should quit to stay with my children. I often tell myself that I don’t belong only to myself, but to them, too. The world is deaf to the extermination of civilians and the targeting of the press.”
“If this were Ukraine…”
For Sami Abu Salem, Palestinian journalist and International Federation of Journalists (IFJ) Safety Trainer, these killings constitute war crimes: “Journalists are identifiable civilians, known by their profession, and they were deliberately targeted by two successive strikes seven minutes apart.”
“The focus is on Israel, not Palestine,” he laments. “And that illustrates the global injustice against Palestinians in Gaza. Even when journalists are killed, the attention given to them is far less than the scale the tragedy warrants.”
He reminds us of the toll—“In a single day, on August 25, five journalists were killed. On that same day, journalist Hassan Dahhan was killed, then other colleagues were targeted while they were sleeping in their homes. And just two weeks before, Israel killed six journalists.”
Abu Salem emphasizes the devastating effect of these losses on the international visibility of what is happening in Gaza. “In just one month, 22 journalists were killed—a catastrophic figure, exceeding the number of journalists killed during the six years of World War II. This has prompted international organizations to launch campaigns in support of journalists in Gaza—though these initiatives are coming a bit late.”
“Our eyes are not blue, and our skin is not white,” he asserts. “If this were Ukraine, would the global reaction be the same? No way. This illustrates the profound injustice suffered by Palestinian journalists and, beyond that, the Palestinian cause, in an international system that is biased toward Israel and lacks any real countervailing power.”
