Israel developed its own
"embedding" strategy during the disengagement from Gaza last year. Only
journalists from the big news organisations were allowed into the
Strip, on special army buses that drove straight to the settlements.
Those without accreditation from the main media organisations, and
those who had upset Israel with their previous reports, had little hope
of gaining entry. Disfavoured journalists were doubtless supposed to
take note for next time, and change the tone of their coverage. The
big media organisations have no interest in pointing out why they have
special access to Gaza and at what price such privileges were bought.
An admission from them would hint at some of the subtle pressures
already influencing their reporting and might expose the cosy
arrangement that offers them a monopoly on the flow of information at a
time when they are already feeling the heat from the rise of Internet
journalism not subject to the agendas of wealthy owners and corporate
advertisers.
Covering up Gaza
The state of
Israel, fearful of the truth, continues to control media coverage of
its brutal occupation, writes Jonathan Cook*
One early and easy victory for
Israel in Gaza has been in its battle to manage the news. Israel's
invasion is a very private war against Gaza's population, to which only
invited guests -- the representatives of our major media outlets -- are
being given access.
Click to view caption |
Palestinian
children from Al-Ajuri family play on the debris of their destroyed
home in Beit Lahya, Gaza
|
In the last Iraq war, America
set a
precedent by requiring Western reporters to "embed" with its forces
before they were let near the battlefield. Israel is following suit,
adopting similar measures to control the flow of bad news from Gaza.
The restrictions on who can
report
and what they can tell us explain in part why more than a fortnight
after an Israeli soldier was captured, almost every Western reporter is
still referring to him as "kidnapped"; why the destruction of vital
civilian infrastructure such as Gaza's only power plant is described as
"pressure" rather than what it is -- collective punishment, a violation
of international law and a war crime; and why the deaths of large
numbers of Palestinians, civilians and militants, in the current
attacks are receiving far less coverage than the deaths of the two
soldiers enforcing the occupation that gave Israel the pretext to
launch its invasion.
Gaza -- a giant open-air
prison --
could not offer a more perfect environment for an occupier wanting to
manage the news. Israel controls the borders and can decide who is
allowed in and who is refused access. Freedom of the press is
meaningless on these terms.
Israel developed its own
"embedding"
strategy during the disengagement from Gaza last year. Only journalists
from the big news organisations were allowed into the Strip, on special
army buses that drove straight to the settlements. Those without
accreditation from the main media organisations, and those who had
upset Israel with their previous reports, had little hope of gaining
entry. Disfavoured journalists were doubtless supposed to take note for
next time, and change the tone of their coverage.
The big media organisations
have no
interest in pointing out why they have special access to Gaza and at
what price such privileges were bought. An admission from them would
hint at some of the subtle pressures already influencing their
reporting and might expose the cosy arrangement that offers them a
monopoly on the flow of information at a time when they are already
feeling the heat from the rise of Internet journalism not subject to
the agendas of wealthy owners and corporate advertisers.
Israel's system of embedding
operates at two levels: it ensures that many potential journalists are
not in a position to report from Gaza; and then it imposes a range of
pressures on those journalists who are there.
When Israel withdrew its
settlers
and soldiers from Gaza last August, the windfall was that it gained
absolute control over who was allowed in and out of the tiny sliver of
land on the Mediterranean coast. The result: just as Palestinians find
it all but impossible to get out of Gaza, foreigners find it nearly as
difficult to get in.
The hermetic sealing off of
Gaza
follows a series of steps taken by Israel in the past few years to
discourage foreigners from venturing into places where its soldiers
prefer to go about their business unobserved.
In late 2002 and 2003 the
Israeli
army killed two peace activists with the International Solidarity
Movement, Tom Hurndall and Rachel Corrie. It was a very effective
deterrent to other activists -- as well as freelance journalists who
might be mistaken for activists -- considering living in the occupied
territories.
Foreigners stopped "embedding"
themselves in Palestinian areas, and in consequence there was a rapid
loss of the Internet diaries of life under occupation and eyewitness
accounts that were creating a fledgling but useful "alternative
journalism".
Since then Israel has been on
the
lookout for anyone at its borders whom it suspects of belonging to
peace organisations or being recruited to work in Palestinian
organisations. Non-Israelis are held for lengthy questioning and
usually deported if Israel suspects them of planning to enter the
occupied territories, whether their purposes are legitimate or not.
As a result, the West Bank and
Gaza
are now sorely deprived of the young idealists and hopeful journalists
who once travelled around the occupied territories.
Israel has claimed that its
measures
are designed to protect these individuals and its own soldiers from
unnecessary and dangerous confrontations. But in practice, Israel has
ensured that independent witnesses -- including those that were once
able to describe at first hand and in their many native tongues the
horrors being inflicted on the Palestinians -- are now largely absent
from the occupied territories.
Instead "professional"
reporters,
based in Israel, venture into these areas only to report after the
event, when the best they can hope to achieve is to present two
conflicting narratives: the Israeli official version and Palestinian
eyewitness accounts.
Since the disengagement, the
process
of isolating Gaza has intensified, ensuring that a far narrower range
of voices are being heard -- in practice, only those of professional
journalists who have the sensitivities of their news desks back home
and their careers to worry about.
With an electronic fence
surrounding
Gaza on three sides, and the sea on the fourth, the only way into the
Strip is through one of several crossing points controlled by the army.
Where once journalists could freely roam around the occupied
territories, reporting things as they saw them, they are now required
to jump through several hoops before they are allowed to cross into
Gaza.
So how does Israel's version
of embedding work?
First, to get into Gaza a
journalist
must be in possession of a press card issued by the Israeli Government
Press Office (GPO). All other journalist cards -- even international
ones -- are worthless in the eyes of the Israeli government.
To be eligible for a GPO card,
applicants must have accreditation with a recognised media
organisation. Freelance reporters and photographers are considered to
be impostors unless they can prove that they have an assignment from
just such an accredited organisation.
The problems for freelance
journalists are twofold. First, Israel decides which organisations are
accredited and is likely to reject any "alternative" media that has
been too critical of Israel in the past.
And second, Israel makes it
impossible for freelancers to do in Gaza what they would do in any
other conflict zone: head off with an open mind to see what is
happening on the ground. Now, the freelance journalist must have a
specific assignment in mind, and have an agreement in advance with a
media organisation to cover that assignment in its name.
These conditions severely
limit the
freedom of freelance reporters and photographers to find stories that
the main media organisations have overlooked. In practice, if a
freelance journalist can get such an assignment (in itself a difficult
task), it is likely to be for one of the stories the news desk
thousands of miles away considers to be important: that is, the same
stories the rest of the media pack are already pursuing. Innovation and
difference of perspective are excluded from the outset.
Those journalists who do
manage to
gain a GPO card then have to jump through a second hoop: they must sign
a "waiver" form, exonerating Israel of all responsibility if they are
injured while in the Gaza Strip, including from the actions of the
Israeli army.
The effect of the waiver is to
impose a large financial burden on freelance journalists. While media
organisations provide their staff with war insurance, an armoured car,
and a flak jacket and helmet, they do not feel the same obligation
towards freelancers, even those on assignment for them.
This leaves freelance
reporters and
photographers in Gaza in an unenviable position: either they protect
themselves in the Strip at a huge personal cost they are unlikely ever
to recoup from their reporting, or they risk injury for which no one
can be held accountable and made to pay.
Even if it can be proven that
an
Israeli soldier took a malicious shot of the kind that in the past
killed filmmaker James Miller and UN official Iain Hook and destroyed
most of face of activist Brian Avery, freelance journalists and their
families will not be entitled to a penny of compensation.
It can be assumed that this
measure
alone has been a serious deterrence for many freelance journalists who
might otherwise have considered making a name for themselves by
reporting from the Gazan frontline.
And then there is the third
and most
problematic hoop of all. Reporters who receive a GPO card must agree to
submit any reports that touch on "defence and security" matters to
Israel's military censor. Although in practice few Western reporters
refer to the censor, the knowledge that they are breaking the terms of
their agreement -- and could have their privileges withdrawn -- is
intended to encourage "self- restraint" on their part.
As long as the journalists'
reports
don't attract too much attention from the Israeli authorities, this
term of their contract with the army is unlikely to be enforced. If
they keep their heads down, and stay within the pack, there is no
danger they will be "picked off". By contrast, distinctiveness and
daring from journalists is a recipe for incurring the wrath of the
Israeli Press Office and complaints to the reporters' editors.
The most shocking aspect to
this
embedding of the media with the Israeli army is the silence from the
journalists themselves, from their employers and from their
professional federations. None has tried to challenge the restrictions
imposed by Israel on those wishing to report from the occupied
territories.
The generally dismal standard
of
reporting during the invasion of Gaza has proven just how much a cosy
club of well-paid journalists are being protected by these arrangements
and what little incentive they have to rock the boat with either Israel
or their news editors. As a result, Israel's language and agenda have
come to dominate the coverage.
Israel's invasion of Gaza is
not the
end of this story of media complicity. As the West Bank wall nears
completion, Israel's reach in managing the news will soon extend there
too. And with it, doubtless, we will have yet more craven reporting
from our embedded media.
* The writer is a journalist based in Nazareth and author
of Blood and Religion: The Unmasking of the Jewish and Democratic
State , published recently by Pluto Press.