Hello Farah. Could you tell us about your personal journalistic history, including your issues with Deutsche Welle in 2022, the lawsuit and how it was resolved?
I chose journalism because it felt like a powerful tool — not just to have a voice of my own, but to give a platform to those who are silenced. I grew up in Jordan, where the space for female journalists in political reporting is still limited, and I saw journalism as a way to break through those barriers. I worked relentlessly, studying, writing, and pushing forward until I established myself in the field.
But I wanted more than just a seat at the table, I wanted to elevate my professionalism and expand my reach. That’s what led me to Deutsche Welle, a German international broadcaster. After completing a two-month internship, I returned home, only to receive a job offer shortly after — a recognition of my work and the skills I brought to the newsroom. In 2017, I moved to Berlin and began what I thought would be a long-term step in my journalistic career.
Five years later, everything changed. I, along with several other mostly Palestinian Arab journalists, was targeted in a coordinated smear campaign in the German media. Suddenly, our identities were weaponized against us. The accusation? Antisemitism. A label in Germany that, once attached to someone, rarely invites scrutiny or fact-checking. It’s a career-ending allegation. Within two months, the contracts of me and my colleagues were terminated.
But I refused to accept this as my fate. I chose to fight back, not just for myself, but because I understood this was bigger than me, it was about silencing Palestinian voices under the guise of fighting hate speech. Many of us pursued legal action, and while some reached settlements, others such as myself won outright in court. In my case, twice.
This experience solidified something I already knew: being a Palestinian journalist in a Western media institution means constantly defending your right to exist. Not just to speak, but to simply be.
Do other Palestinian journalists face similar obstacles and pressures in their work and life in Germany?
It’s important to emphasize that my experience at Deutsche Welle wasn’t an isolated case. It’s part of a much larger pattern that Palestinian journalists in Germany and across Europe face. From the very first days in a newsroom, we encounter what I call the Palestine exception. You quickly realize that while you can speak freely about almost any political issue in the world, the moment you touch on Palestine, there are unspoken and often very explicit rules.
There’s a rigid set of guidelines about how to discuss Palestine, who you can invite to speak, and which voices are automatically dismissed. As a Palestinian journalist, you enter these spaces carrying a narrative shaped by lived experience only to find yourself confronted with a version of events that has already been decided for you. In Germany, and much of Europe, certain “truths” about Palestine and Israel are taken for granted, truths that directly contradict our reality.
This creates an impossible environment for any journalist who believes in free, critical reporting. Many Palestinian, Arab, and even non-Arab journalists who support free and fair journalism quickly realize that the work they’re doing doesn’t align with the journalism they signed up for. It’s not what they dreamed of. And the moment anyone dares to challenge the status quo, to push back against these biased editorial lines, the consequences are swift.
We see journalists smeared in the press, fired without cause, and labeled antisemitic simply for presenting Palestinian perspectives. The punishments are severe. Some are dragged through exhausting legal battles, others are blacklisted, and many are forced to shift careers entirely. Not because they failed as journalists, but because the system failed them.
And the attack on Palestinian voices doesn’t stop at journalism. It extends to activists, academics, and anyone who dares to speak up for Palestine. This is the harsh reality. Not in an authoritarian state, but in what’s supposed to be “free Europe.”
How did the situation in Germany and German media change after October 2023?
The media landscape and public discourse in Germany has shifted dramatically since October 2023. A recent poll conducted by NDR, a German public broadcaster, revealed a striking divide: 48% of the German population expressed little to no trust in the media’s coverage of Gaza, while only 40% said they had full or significant trust in what they were seeing and hearing. This growing skepticism is a direct result of how the genocide in Gaza has been framed by German media, and it speaks to a broader crisis of credibility.
We’re not just witnessing biased reporting, but the criminalization of Palestinian Solidarity. Protests for Gaza are increasingly portrayed as extremist, and anyone voicing criticism of Israeli actions risks being labeled antisemitic. Journalists, activists, and even academics are finding themselves silenced under this pretext, their words twisted to fit a narrative that protects Israel from accountability.
But this isn’t happening in isolation. It’s deeply tied to Germany’s political stance and its historical guilt. The German state’s unwavering support for Israel often translates into a media environment where Palestinian suffering is minimized or erased entirely. This historical trauma, which should be a reason to stand firmly against all forms of oppression, is being weaponized to justify Israeli violence. The media for the most part mirrors this official line.
Before October 2023 these biases were already present, but there was still space for certain critical voices. Now, that space has all but disappeared. The situation has escalated to the point where not only Palestinian perspectives are shut down, but also the voices of Jewish and any other brave professional journalists who dare to question the status quo.
What we are left with is a media landscape where objectivity is a myth, where “neutrality” means aligning with the powerful, and where those speaking uncomfortable truths about Palestine are treated as threats, not as journalists doing their jobs.
How are European media covering the genocide in Palestine?
Where do we even begin when discussing the genocide in Palestine and how European media has covered it?
The erasure of the Palestinian narrative happens in plain sight. From the constant use of passive voice when describing Israeli crimes, to the open dismissal of UN bodies and the International Court of Justice when they hold Israel accountable. Palestinians are either portrayed as terrorists or reduced to faceless numbers, mere statistics of casualties, with no names, no voices, and no stories.
What we see repeatedly is the media framing this as a “conflict”, as though both sides hold equal power, when in reality this is a settler-colonial occupation with a clear oppressor and an oppressed people. Words like genocide are downplayed or outright criminalized, while Israeli violence is almost always framed as “self-defense.” Palestinians, if they are acknowledged at all, are only visible in death, stripped of their humanity in life.
But this goes beyond media bias, it’s propaganda. It’s a deliberate manipulation of language and framing to manufacture public consent for Israel’s actions. When you consistently depict one side as inherently violent and the other as eternally threatened, you justify the violence of the occupier and delegitimize the resistance of the occupied.
This erasure isn’t accidental, it’s structural. And it doesn’t just shape public opinion; it emboldens state violence and silences those fighting for justice. The media becomes not just a bystander but an active participant in upholding oppression.
In the face of mainstream media’s erasure and distortion, we are witnessing a powerful shift where independent journalists and grassroots platforms are breaking through the manufactured silence.
Palestinian journalists on the ground, especially those in Gaza, have become primary sources of truth. Despite facing unimaginable risks, including the constant threat of death, they continue to document the horrors of the genocide with courage and resilience. Their reporting bypasses the editorial gatekeepers of traditional outlets and speaks directly to the world.
What’s even more remarkable is how citizen journalism and grassroots activism are building global solidarity. We now see independent platforms and journalists reaching wider audiences than many mainstream outlets. They are reclaiming the narrative, refusing to let Palestinian voices be silenced, and holding power to account in ways that conventional media has failed to do.
This shift proves that people are hungry for the truth and that storytelling, when freed from corporate and political agendas, has the power to move people and mobilize action.
What is the role of journalists reporting directly from Gaza?
When we talk about journalism in Gaza, we are talking about an act of resistance, a fight for survival and truth.
Journalists in Gaza are not just reporting the news, they are living the horrors they document. They are not detached observers but survivors, grieving their families, fleeing bombings, and yet holding up their cameras and phones to show the world what is happening.
The sacrifices they are making are unimaginable. More than 190 journalists have been killed since October, the deadliest period for journalists in modern history. Their homes have been targeted, their press vests have become death sentences, and their families have been slaughtered. Yet, they keep reporting because they know that without their voices, the genocide in Gaza would unfold in darkness.
Their persistence shames the silence of many international media outlets. It exposes the double standards of a world that mourns the death of journalists in other conflicts but stays largely silent when Palestinian reporters are killed for doing their job.
What they are doing is more than journalism, it’s an act of defiance against an attempt to erase their people’s existence. They are keeping the memory of the victims alive, fighting not just for press freedom but for the very right of Palestinians to be seen and heard.
We owe them more than solidarity. We owe them amplification. To carry their stories, their footage, and their truths into every space we can.
Mainstream media are nurturing the status quo in European newsrooms and journalism schools, and hiding behind the myth of “neutral” or “objective” journalism. What does that mean in practice and what is the desirable and responsible role of journalism and journalists?
In European newsrooms and journalism schools, we are often taught the importance of “neutrality” and “objectivity”. They are presented as the pillars of good journalism. But what happens when these concepts are weaponized to maintain injustice?
What we’re seeing is how the myth of neutrality is used to mask complicity. Journalists are told to “show both sides,” even when the sides are not equal. They are pressured to echo official Israeli statements without question, while Palestinian voices are treated with suspicion or labeled as biased. This false balance creates the illusion of impartiality while actually reinforcing the narrative of the oppressor.
In practice, “neutrality” often means adopting the language of power. Using words like “conflict” instead of occupation, “clashes” instead of massacres, and criminalizing terms like “genocide” even when they are supported by international law. It means hiding behind so-called objectivity while erasing the reality of systemic violence.
True journalism isn’t about being neutral in the face of oppression, it’s about being responsible. Responsible journalism means providing context, exposing power dynamics, and refusing to equate the colonizer and the colonized. It means standing with the oppressed, not because we are activists, but because journalism’s duty is to pursue truth, and the truth is that there is an ongoing genocide happening in Palestine.
So the question is not whether journalists should take sides, it’s whether they are willing to hold power to account, to break free from the status quo, and to recognize that silence and false balance only serve the oppressor.
How can we be better allies, better journalistic comrades to the Palestinian cause?
Being an ally to Palestinian journalists and to the Palestinian cause goes beyond performative solidarity. It means taking real, often uncomfortable, actions.
First, amplify Palestinian voices. This sounds simple, but it’s a radical act when those voices are systematically silenced or delegitimized. Quote Palestinian journalists, share their work, and push for them to be included in panels, articles, and broadcasts not just as victims, but as experts and storytellers.
Second, challenge your newsroom’s biases. Don’t accept editorial lines that erase Palestinian humanity or sanitize Israeli violence. Ask why certain words are used; why is it always “conflict” and never “occupation”? Why is Israel’s narrative presented as fact, while Palestinians are asked to “prove” their suffering?
Third, build networks of resistance. Allyship doesn’t happen in isolation, it’s about creating strong, cross-border coalitions of journalists who refuse to be silenced. This includes Palestinians, yes, but also Jewish, Israeli and European journalists who are pushing back against their own institutions’ complicity. There is strength in collective action.
Finally, understand that being an ally means risking comfort. It’s not about preserving your reputation or job security, it’s about using your platform, however big or small, to fight for press freedom and truth. Silence may feel safe, but it comes at the cost of Palestinian lives and the integrity of journalism itself.
The question is, are you willing to take that risk? Because that’s what real allyship looks like.
Could you reflect on the broader social and political context beyond the issue of the media and journalism?
This is not just a media issue, it’s part of a broader social and political crisis. What we’re witnessing is the rise of the right wing in Europe, the criminalization of dissent, and the shrinking space for free expression.
The attack on Palestinian narratives doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It’s part of a wider assault on fundamental freedoms. When Palestinian journalists are silenced, when protests for Gaza are banned, when academic discussions are shut down, these are not isolated incidents. They signal a dangerous trend: the erosion of press freedom, freedom of speech, and freedom of assembly.
What’s crucial to understand is that this won’t stop with Palestine. The same machinery used to silence Palestinian voices today can and will be turned against others tomorrow. Staying silent now doesn’t protect anyone, it only allows the architecture of repression to grow stronger.
This is not just about Palestine. It’s about the future of journalism, the battle for truth, and the fight for justice. If we let this slide, we aren’t just failing Palestinians — we are risking our own rights, our own democracies, and the very integrity of the press.
This article first appeared in Croatian in Novosti Hoboctn
