Dead and forgotten

A year ago, my dear friend and relative, journalist Amna Homaid, was brutally killed, along with her eldest child, Mahdi, 11. She was targeted following incitement against her by Israeli media.

I still remember the flood of grief and condolences that poured in, keeping the family occupied for the first days following her murder. International media reached out to Amna’s husband with condolences. Articles about her murder and the incitement that preceded it circulated widely. Social media was overflowing with posts about Amna and her achievements, all with the same grieving tone.

Meanwhile, people mourning her were staggering between grief, pride, and blame. Blame directed not at Israel that killed her, nor at the world that allowed the killing, but at Amna’s decision to choose the deadly path of journalism in a country excluded from international law.

The grief eventually faded. Amna was gradually forgotten, and no institution, no government ever sought an investigation into her murder. But what happened with her is not an exception; it is the rule.

This is what will likely happen with journalists Hussam al-Masri, Mohammad Salama, Mariam Abu Daqqa, Ahmed Abu Aziz, and Moaz Abu Taha, who were killed today in Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis. The massacre is briefly making the headlines now, but will soon be forgotten the way Amna’s murder was.

Although these journalists were protected civilians, although they were sheltering inside a medical facility that enjoys special protection under humanitarian law, no one will hold Israel accountable for what it claims was a “mistake”, and no one will investigate it.

This is what happened with the assassination of Anas al-Sharif, Mohammed Qreiqeh, Ibrahim Zaher, Mohammed Noufal, Moamen Aliwa, and Mohammed al-Khaldi two weeks ago, too. It was also gradually forgotten. Social media eulogies faded. Their killing, which was described as “unacceptable” and a “grave breach of international law”, is yet to be investigated, while Israel’s claims about Anas remain unchallenged.

Israel’s burying alive of journalist Marwa Musallam, along with her two brothers, in June, its killing of Hussam Shabat in March, its murder of Ismail al-Ghoul and Rami al-Rifi in July 2024 and – most painfully for me – its assassination of my dear professor Refaat Alareer in December 2023 show how this recurring pattern endures.

The silence that follows each Israeli atrocity paves the way for the next one and for another failure by the world to hold Israel to account. After seeing this deadly cycle repeat over and over again, Palestinians have come to believe that a reporting career is a death sentence for the journalists themselves and for their families.

My family, which has long encouraged its young people to pursue media studies, now dissuades anyone who decides to follow in Amna’s footsteps after her murder. “It’s a lonely road where the world turns its back on you,” they say.

Those who are currently working as journalists in the family are warned to tone down their work and stay out of the spotlight. My uncle Hamed, Amna’s father-in-law, told me he would never allow any of his other six children to pursue a career that is even remotely related to journalism. “No acting, no journalism. I’d never let them appear before the media.”

Excerpted: ‘Don’t mourn the deaths of Palestinian journalists’.

Courtesy: Aljazeera.com