Israeli forces this week claimed responsibility for the killing of four Al Jazeera journalists in Gaza, including the network’s prominent correspondent Anas Al-Sharif. A drone strike hit a tent for journalists positioned outside the main gate of Gaza City’s Al-Shifa Hospital. Hours before his death, Al-Sharif, 28, had posted on X about Israel’s “intense, concentrated bombardment” of eastern and southern Gaza City.
Al-Sharif had become one of the most recognisable voices documenting the ongoing Israeli genocide in Gaza, known for his fearless reporting from the besieged north. The Israeli military admitted in a statement that he was directly targeted, labelling him a “terrorist” affiliated with Hamas—a claim widely dismissed by press freedom advocates as a cynical pretext to eliminate one of the enclave’s most influential journalists.
Both a United Nations expert and a press freedom organisation had previously warned that Al-Sharif’s life was at risk due to his reporting. His killing was not an accident of war; it was a targeted strike on the very act of bearing witness.
The attack must be understood in the broader context of Israel’s near-total media blackout on Gaza. For almost two years, since its military campaign began, Israel has barred foreign journalists from entering the enclave independently, making them reliant on tightly controlled Israeli military “embed” arrangements or second-hand accounts.
This blockade on independent reporting has left Palestinian journalists as the primary—and often only—source of on-the-ground information. Their work is vital to countering state disinformation and ensuring the world understands the massive scale of atrocities being committed. Israel’s sustained assault on these reporters, therefore, is not only an attack on individuals but an attack on truth itself.
In stark contrast to this silencing of Palestinian voices, a delegation of Indian journalists visited Israel last week on the Israeli government’s invitation. During their tightly choreographed tour, there was no public questioning of Israel’s conduct in Gaza, no probing of civilian casualties, and no acknowledgement of the unprecedented journalist death toll. Instead, the trip was marked by carefully posed photographs with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and uncritical amplification of official Israeli talking points.
This was not an isolated case of journalistic naivety but an example of how curated access is used to neutralise independent scrutiny. By embracing the role of honoured guests rather than critical observers, these journalists lent legitimacy to Israel’s narrative, while Gaza’s own reporters—those risking and losing their lives to tell the story—remain under siege.
International humanitarian law is unequivocal: journalists in conflict zones are civilians, protected under the Geneva Conventions, and must not be targeted. Israel is bound by these provisions, as well as customary international law, to safeguard the lives of all civilians, including media workers. Yet the record is damning. Since October 7, 2023, Israeli forces have killed nearly 270 journalists and media workers in Gaza, making this the single deadliest conflict for journalists in recorded history.
The scale of this carnage is staggering when placed in a historical perspective. According to Brown University’s Costs of War project, more journalists have been killed in Gaza in this period than in the US Civil War, both World Wars, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the wars in the former Yugoslavia, and the post-9/11 war in Afghanistan—combined. The numbers point to a sustained, systematic policy of eliminating those who might document war crimes.
UN Secretary-General António Guterres’ spokesperson has reiterated that journalists everywhere must be able to work without fear of being targeted. The Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) has gone further, warning that the killings and arbitrary detentions of media workers in Gaza since October 2023 have created a “news void” that will leave potential war crimes undocumented. This “void” is, in all likelihood, the intended outcome. As Al Jazeera said in a statement, calling Al-Sharif “one of Gaza’s bravest journalists”, the attack “is a desperate attempt to silence voices in anticipation of the occupation of Gaza.”
The killings come amid a significant escalation: Israel’s Security Cabinet has voted to expand the war and seize control of Gaza City. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has declared his intent to take “full control” of the enclave. Two of his Cabinet colleagues have openly advocated for the expulsion of Gaza’s Palestinian population and the resettlement of the territory with Jewish Israelis.
These pronouncements, combined with the manner in which the violence has been unleashed, leave little doubt that the ultimate goal is territorial conquest and demographic transformation. Leading genocide scholars, alongside international and Israeli human rights organisations, have already described the campaign as genocide.
Anas Al-Sharif’s story embodies the courage and sacrifice of Gaza’s journalists. Raised in refugee camps, he endured the same bombings, hunger, and grief as those he reported on. He refused to leave his community, even as threats to his life mounted.
Four months before his killing, he wrote in what he called his “will”: “I have never hesitated to convey the truth as it is, without distortion or falsification. May God be a witness against those who remained silent and accepted our killing, and against those who choked our breath and whose hearts were not moved by the scattered remains of our children and women, and who did nothing to stop the massacre our people have faced for more than a year and a half.”
These are not the words of a combatant. They are the testament of a man committed to truth, fully aware that truth itself had become the enemy.
More journalists were killed in 2024 than in any other year since the CPJ began collecting data more than three decades ago. Significantly, two-thirds of the journalists and media workers killed were Palestinians killed by Israel. The pattern is unmistakable: when the truth threatens to expose the full horror of your actions, you target the truth-tellers. The question now is not whether the world understands what is happening—the facts are plain—but whether it will act before there are no more voices left to speak from Gaza.
How many more like Anas Al-Sharif must be silenced before the world finally listens?
Vishal R Choradiya is an assistant professor with the Department of Professional Studies, Christ University, Bengaluru. Views expressed here are the author’s own.