A Pattern of Impunity: The “Smear and Kill” Tactic and the War on Journalism in Gaza

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The news from Gaza overnight is not just tragic; it is a stark and terrifying indictment of a war waged not only on a civilian population but also on the very truth itself. Five Al Jazeera journalists, including the prominent correspondent Anas al-Sharif, were killed in a targeted Israeli airstrike near Gaza City’s al-Shifa Hospital. While the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) swiftly claimed that al-Sharif was a Hamas operative and the head of a terrorist cell, this accusation has been met with immediate and vehement condemnation from the network and international press freedom advocates, who decry it as the latest example of a deliberate and long-standing campaign to silence the voices reporting from within the besieged territory. This is not an isolated incident; it is a chilling culmination of what many are now calling a “smear and kill” tactic, and it underscores the grim reality that this is the deadliest conflict for journalists in modern history.

Just weeks before the deadly strike, the United Nations Special Rapporteur on freedom of expression, Irene Khan, and the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) had both issued separate statements explicitly warning that Anas al-Sharif’s life was in danger due to a targeted “smear campaign” by the Israeli military. This context is crucial. As the New York Times reported, the Israeli army spokesperson had even shared a video on social media in July, accusing al-Sharif of being part of Hamas’s military wing—an accusation both al-Sharif and Al Jazeera vehemently denied. The CPJ noted that this campaign of incitement against al-Sharif had intensified after the journalist broke down in tears on air while reporting on the devastating famine gripping Gaza—a powerful moment of human empathy that seemingly made him an even greater target.

The killing of al-Sharif and his colleagues is not an anomaly; it fits a deeply disturbing pattern. Jodie Ginsberg, the CEO of the Committee to Protect Journalists, minced no words in her assessment to the BBC: “This is a pattern we’ve seen from Israel—not just in the current war, but in the decades preceding—in which typically a journalist will be killed by Israeli forces and then Israel will say after the fact that they are a terrorist, but provides very little evidence to back up those claims.” This accusation of a “decades-long pattern” of extrajudicial killing and subsequent character assassination should send a shockwave through the international community. It suggests a deliberate and sustained policy of eliminating journalists who provide unflattering coverage.

This deadly pattern is unfolding within what is now being called, by a consensus of watchdog groups, the single deadliest conflict for journalists in modern history. The numbers are a horrifying testament to the scale of the slaughter. According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, at least 186 journalists and media workers have been confirmed killed in Gaza since the war began. The Watson Institute at Brown University, in a recent assessment, stated with grim finality that this war is “quite simply, the worst ever conflict for reporters.” The danger is so pervasive that it has united the world’s media in a rare show of solidarity. Last month, the BBC, Reuters, the Associated Press, and Agence France-Presse issued a joint statement expressing “desperate concern” for their own freelance journalists in the Strip, who they say are increasingly unable to feed themselves and their families amidst the unfolding famine.

This is not a matter of journalists being caught in the crossfire. As Al Jazeera’s managing editor, Mohamed Moawad, pointed out, al-Sharif and his colleagues were killed in a designated press tent outside a hospital, “they weren’t covering from the front line.” This lends credence to the devastating assessment of the UN Special Rapporteur on freedom of expression, Irene Khan, who stated that the killings are “part of a deliberate strategy of Israel to suppress the truth, obstruct the documentation of international crimes and bury any possibility of future accountability.” When the truth-tellers themselves are the targets, the goal is no longer just to win a war, but to control the very memory of it.

The Last Word

In a war where witnesses are being systematically eliminated, one of the fallen, Anas al-Sharif, left behind a final, haunting testimony. He had written a message to be published in the event of his death, a final dispatch from the front lines of a war on truth. He wrote of his sorrow for leaving behind his wife and for not seeing his children grow up. He wrote of the pain and loss he had documented for 22 months. And he wrote a final, powerful indictment, not just of the perpetrators of violence, but of those who stood by and watched.

“Despite that,” his final message read, “I never hesitated to convey the truth as it is, without distortion or misrepresentation, hoping that God would witness those who remained silent, those who accepted our killing, and those who suffocated our very breaths. Not even the mangled bodies of our children and women moved their hearts or stopped the massacre that our people have been subjected to.”

In the end, his own words serve as the most powerful testament to the importance of his work and the most damning evidence of the crime that took his life.