The video makes for difficult watching.
It was filmed near the border between Israel and Lebanon. A security fence winds over a hill, by a tall communications mast. There are repeated machine gun shots, seemingly among the trees on the horizon. Then, from nowhere, there is an almighty blast. A woman screams and the screen turns a vivid orange and the film ends.
The colour is a mixture of flame and dust. In that flash and roar, Issam Abdallah, videographer for Reuters, was killed. Two other Reuters journalists, Thaer al-Sudani and Maher Nazeh, were seriously injured. Also hurt were reporters from Al Jazeera and Agence France-Presse, among them the AFP journalist, Christina Assi.
They were covering the increasingly frequent clashes between Israel and Hezbollah in Lebanon following the outbreak of the Israel-Hamas war to the south in Gaza. The journalist had gathered together for safety near Alma al-Chaab, a village in southern Lebanon. All of them were wearing helmets and blue, bullet-resistant jackets clearly marked “PRESS”.
Charbel Francis, a cameraman for Al Araby TV, was also filming. He said the battle was in the distance and there was no indication that the Lebanese gunfire was coming from anywhere near the journalists. The shell that hit them appeared to come from the Israel side. Reuters later quoted one of its journalists who was at the scene, saying that missiles “fired from the direction of Israel” struck the group.
A spokesman for the Israeli military, Lt. Col. Richard Hecht, said it was “very sorry” for the journalist’s death but it was not sure who was responsible and that Israel would investigate.
So, Abdallah’s killing last Friday joined the long list of journalists to die reporting conflict. As the Israel-Hamas war unfolds, there will almost certainly be more.
Meanwhile, in Ukraine, up until May this year, 17 journalists had died since Russia and Ukraine began fighting in 2014. In all, according to the watchdog group, the Committee to Protect Journalists, last year, 67 members of the press were killed around the world, the highest number since 2018 and almost 50 per cent higher than in 2021. The total was boosted by events in Ukraine and violence in Latin America.
In newsrooms across the globe, as soon as reports of the Hamas attacks surfaced, journalists were told to pack their bags and flights were booked for Israel. They do it automatically. Every national, international large news organisation has its war correspondents who rush immediately to danger.
It’s what they do, it’s what is expected. They’re not paid any extra. They do it because they have a calling, bringing to the wider world the truth of what is happening.
We take them for granted. As newspaper editor, my worst moment was in 2012 when Alistair, the foreign editor, came into my office, visibly worried. He said that “Kim is missing. We can’t get hold of him.” He was referring to the paper’s highly experienced war reporter. Kim had gone into war-torn Aleppo in Syria through the sewers. He was meant to phone in every two hours but hadn’t.
Alistair contacted the Foreign Office to see if there were any reports of a Brit being wounded or killed or kidnapped. Nothing.
In my head, I began preparing how I would break the news to Kim’s loved ones. It was awful.
We felt powerless, wondering if there was more we could do and all the time sitting in comfortable surroundings in London, while he was out there, stuck, or worse, in some hellish underground pipe. And just because he was doing his job.
More time elapsed. The dread grew. Then, suddenly Alistair exclaimed happily. Kim had phoned, he was safe. He’d not been able to make contact before, because his mobile battery had died, it was that mundane, but oh so wonderful.
Without journalists we would be lost, having to fall back on official, propaganda-driven accounts or unofficial, dubious channels
We do need to look at ourselves and ask what we put some journalists through, are we doing enough to shield them.
It’s true that it takes a particular kind of reporter to want to go to a war zone. But we should understand that while they seem unscathed, they could well be wounded mentally.
This was brought home to me by a writer we sent to Kosovo and other war-stricken areas, and not only there but to places affected by famine, drought and natural disasters. Years later, I realised I’d not seen her byline in a while. It turned out she was having an extended break, that she’d been receiving therapy for PTSD, post-traumatic stress that we had unthinkingly caused her.
We should realise and appreciate what they are doing for us. Without them we would be lost, having to fall back on official, propaganda-driven accounts or unofficial, dubious channels. More must be done to protect them.
While, for instance, British politicians and commentators are busy rowing over whether the BBC should call Hamas terrorists, they should not lose sight of the fact that when she is standing on a hillside overlooking Gaza, wearing a helmet and safety jacket saying “PRESS” and observing what is occurring, the BBC’s Lyse Doucet is doing exactly the same as Issam Abdallah and his colleagues did only a few days ago.
