Journalists describeconstant intimidation

Editor's note: Shortly after the outbreak of the current Palestinian "intifada" or uprising, National Public Radio's Jennifer Ludden reported: "Today is a repeat of the last three days ... You've got this Goliath of an Israeli army with guns. In some places yesterday they used armored tanks. There were battle helicopters buzzing overhead. At one point in the Gaza strip yesterday, Israeli soldiers fired an anti-tank missile. All this directed at young kids with stones."

NPR's wildly inflammatory and inaccurate report – the weaponry cited hadn't been directed at kids, the tanks were only a deterrent, the helicopters brought in to rescue an Israeli shot by Palestinians, and the anti-tank missile used against Palestinian snipers firing at Israelis from high-rise buildings – was only a mild caricature what has been typical news coverage of the escalating conflict.

Jerusalem-based writer and journalist Judy Lash Balint, whose articles have appeared in many publications worldwide, including the Christian Science Monitor, Jerusalem Post and Seattle Times, conducted an in-depth survey of on-the-ground journalists in preparing this insightful three-part report. In yesterday's Part 1: Media frightened into self-censorship, Balint traveled to Rome to interview Italian TV reporter Riccardo Cristiano about his controversial response to Italian TV coverage of last fall's grisly Palestinian lynching of two Israeli soldiers.

In today's installment, Balint quotes many correspondents who face harassment and worse in their pursuit of information and access in the increasingly dangerous region.

JERUSALEM -- Extensive interviews with correspondents based here, as well as those who have flown in to cover the ever-widening Mideast crisis, reveal a highly complex journalistic reality that is anything but conducive to unbiased reporting.

Within the Jerusalem-based press corps of several hundred reporters, there are varying degrees of knowledge and understanding of the situation. After the first week of the violence, many media outlets reassigned journalists from other posts to assist their colleagues in Jerusalem. In some cases, these people did have previous experience covering the Middle East, but in most instances, the journalists landed in their bureaus at Jerusalem Capital Studios with little background on the history, geography or political landscape of the area.

To whom do they turn for a crash course on the Israel-Arab conflict?

By and large it's other journalists who provide them with an overview of the lay of the land. Georges Malbrunot, correspondent for France's Le Matin daily paper, for example, calls the BBC his "living Bible." Thus, as Fiamma Nirenstein, the Israel correspondent for Italy's La Stampa newspaper points out, "the extraordinary informal power of the media -- iconoclastic, sporty, ironic, virtually all of one mind," comes into play.

In fact, the best factual reporting from the new intifada has come from the few correspondents with background in the area who jetted in for a few weeks and left before they became tainted with the political correctness required of the resident media set.

Jack Kelley of USA Today, for example, filed a couple of outstanding stories during his limited days in Jerusalem. In one piece, he described his experience riding along in an Israel Defense Force jeep patrolling the volatile Ayosh Junction outside Ramallah. Eyewitness accounts of the violent provocation by Arab youth and the decision-making of the equally youthful IDF troops provided an accurate insight into the challenging situation.

But for most of the American Colony Hotel-based Western correspondents, there are certain "given" assumptions that provide the backdrop for all their coverage. Topping the list is the notion that Palestinians are engaged in a noble struggle for independence and Israeli oppressors are using their might and muscle to stand in their way.

Journalists arrive at this view based both on experiences in their own native lands as standard-bearers for minority rights and other liberal causes, but also as a result of their reliance on local assistance here in Israel. Since very few of the foreign correspondents in Israel are fluent in Hebrew or Arabic, they rely on a network of local sources as well as the service of "fixers" -- locals who can "fix" situations for them. Currently, some 400 Palestinian Authority residents are in possession of Israel Government Press Office credentials.

Much of the current conflict is raging in Area A (under full Palestinian Authority control), so it is not surprising that the fixers are generally young U.S.-educated Palestinians who know how to operate in PA territory and who introduce the journalists to their circle of acquaintances.

Most of these Palestinian "fixers" also know Hebrew, and their GPO credentials generally enable them to navigate quite well throughout Israel without security intimidation.

In contrast to this informal networking on the Palestinian side, correspondents generally get the Israeli point of view from official sources. The Government Press Office -- currently a one-man operation -- is charged with informing journalists of briefings with government officials and coordinating coverage of the comings and goings of the prime minister and the Cabinet. The Foreign Ministry and the IDF spokesman's office provide access to IDF commanders and other top officials.

"We suffer from a deluge of information," notes Washington Post bureau chief Lee Hockstader. Others, like Phil Reeves of London's Independent newspaper, acknowledge that Israel provides excellent entree to senior officials in contrast to more limited and guarded access to PA higher-ups. Chris Roberts of the UK-based Sky TV News service calls the Israeli official PR effort "a well-oiled machine." But there is little Israeli effort to establish personal relationships with journalists to provide them with a non-propagandistic, man-on-the-street view of events.

The effects of this vacuum are easy to discern. When Ted Koppel taped a "Nightline" show at the East Jerusalem YMCA in the early days of this intifada, several smartly dressed, attractive, young English-speaking Arabs made sure they saved a chair for New York Times bureau chief Deborah Sontag. When Sontag arrived, she was greeted with kisses by one of the young women in the group. In contrast, an older Israeli audience member who went over to introduce himself was given a cursory nod by Sontag, absorbed in conversation with her chic friends.

The influence of Arab TV crewmembers is obvious even in the offices of some news outlets. At the ABC-TV studio, for instance, the only map hanging in the office is dated March 2000 and displays the title, "Palestine."

A reporter for a Canadian paper explains how knowledge of Arabic can be a very useful thing. In Beit Jalla last December, the IDF sent a missile into the Church of St. Nicholas, causing little damage. The PA called a news conference there.

In English, the local clergy said, "Oh, this is so terrible. See what the Israelis are doing." In Arabic, they were overheard saying to each other: "That m----- f----- Arafat. Why can't he keep his guns away. He'll get us all killed."

But most journalists speak very little Arabic, so they use Palestinian crews, which creates another problem. The harassment of Palestinian journalists critical of Yasser Arafat is well documented by Israeli and Palestinian human rights organizations. The Committee to Protect Journalists wrote in an Oct. 20, 2000 report:

"Major newspapers routinely avoid coverage of issues such as high-level PA corruption and mismanagement, human rights abuses by security forces, and any reporting that might cast Arafat in a negative light. Moreover, the major Palestinian dailies all enjoy cozy relations with the PA, further blunting their editorial edge."

Coercion, abduction and violence by PA security chief Jibril Rijoub's forces is a fact of life for east Jerusalem Arabs. Who knows under what pressure Palestinians working for Western news organizations operate, or to whom they report? In effect, little seems to have changed since Zev Chafets wrote in his book, "Double Vision," about Western journalists' coverage of the Lebanese war of the early 1980s. (Just substitute American Colony for Commodore and Jerusalem for Beirut.)

Wrote Chafets: "In conformity with the PLO-dependent security system, Western reporters ghettoized themselves and became, in effect, accomplices to their own isolation and supervision. They clustered around the Palestinian-run Commodore (Hotel) where they knew their movements, contacts and outgoing communications would be monitored. Some of those with separate offices in the city found that they needed local Palestinian employees in order to establish contacts and guide them through the complexities of life in Beirut. These assistants were, in many cases, subject to the discipline of the PLO; and if the organization was circumspect in its dealing with most of the foreign reporters, it could afford to be far less so in its demands on its fellow Palestinians or Lebanese Moslems. Even reporters aware of the fact that their local employees might be a conduit to PLO intelligence were loath to give them up; in many cases, such people were an invaluable buffer."

One of those reporters detained by the PLO in Beirut in 1981 left Lebanon in a hurry a short while later, after publishing an article confirming the harassment of journalists in Beirut. John Kifner is still a New York Times correspondent. Kifner arrived in Jerusalem for a short stint in December, covering the current intifada. Despite his extensive experience with the PLO, Kifner declined to be interviewed for this article, citing "touchy personnel issues" with Times bureau chief Sontag, who happened to be out of the country at the time of the request.

Some journalists simply dismiss concern over PA attempts at censorship. Acknowledging "famous incidents to suppress stories" here, The Independent's Reeves nevertheless notes that: "Everyone does this. The Brits did it in Northern Ireland."

Others categorically deny that intimidation by the PA takes place at all. Speaking for the Foreign Press Association, the New York Times' William Orme (Sontag's husband) says that he knows of no documented incidents of official PA harassment or intimidation. The physical attacks against journalists were all street violence perpetrated by individuals who are acting out their feelings against Americans, Orme states.

The head of the Foreign Press Association doesn't necessarily agree. In an article in Haaretz (Oct. 19), FPA chair Howard Goller says that, speaking generally, one could say that there are many pressures on foreign journalists.

"On certain occasions, Israeli soldiers or PA representatives have tried to stop us from filming certain events," Goller confirms.

Orme's remark is eerily reminiscent of NBC editorialist John Chancellor, who observed at the height of the Lebanon War in 1982: "There is no censorship in Beirut. ..." This despite the murder by the PLO of seven foreign journalists in West Beirut between 1976-1981, according to Edouard George, then-senior editor of Beirut's French-language daily L'Orion Du Jour, and the departure from the city of several Western journalists because of PLO threats.

The wire services that provide reporting to papers around the world have not been immune from PA heat, either. A few months ago, the Palestinian Union of Journalists jumped into the act. A letter signed by the PUJ appeared in the PA daily Al Hayyat, condemning the Jerusalem Associated Press bureau's coverage of the conflict. The letter threatened that if the bureau did not change its coverage, the group would adopt "all necessary measures against AP staffers." Jerusalem AP representatives refuse to discuss the matter.

According to one member of the Jerusalem press corps, the Reuters bureau in Gaza, staffed largely by Palestinian journalists, was closed down briefly. It seems that PA attempts to stifle media criticism are successful due to the intertwining of Western news-gathering organizations with Palestinians subject to the long hand of the PA.

Just a few days after the January executions in Nablus (Shechem) of two Palestinians accused of collaborating with Israel, Palestinian security service agents arrested a photographer who filmed one of the two grisly events without PA authorization. Only three photographers working for the PA were allowed to cover the execution. Other reporters and cameramen were barred from the police station where the execution took place. The detained photographer, Majadi el-Arabid, works with both foreign and Israeli news agencies.

Despite these tactics, Orme rejects out of hand the comparison with PLO tactics in Beirut, calling that period "a completely irrelevant episode." Equating the PLO in Beirut with the PA today is "inaccurate," Orme claims.

"There, they were a guerrilla army fighting a war and might have had reason to block access to the press. Here, we're talking about certain areas under Israeli military control and other areas under PA control, so there are formal government entities." Palestinian threats against journalists are analogous to settlers who threaten TV crews too, he argues.

It is misleading to suggest that there is a PA policy of intimidation, Orme concludes, citing the "hundreds of complaints" his organization has received about Israeli government handling of the press -- everything from limited access to shooting of reporters to the restrictions against Israeli nationals being allowed into certain areas. In contrast, "only a handful" of journalists have filed complaints against the PA.

"There is no self-censorship," either, Orme states categorically.

In contrast, one Hebrew-speaking British newspaper correspondent who requested anonymity noted that the self-censorship exercised by reporters in the Middle East today is understood and tacitly accepted by the home offices of their news bureaus.

"They turn a blind eye to it because they know they couldn't function at all without the help of the locals," he said.

The British journalist cited a November incident illustrating his point. Western TV crews who filmed West Bank protests against Egyptian President Mubarak were forced to turn over their film to Palestinian security forces at a checkpoint while Egyptian intelligence officials looked on. According to the British source, the incident went unreported. This same reporter claims that Palestinian police have confiscated BBC footage in Bethlehem and explains that many Western TV reporters exercise self-censorship in PA-controlled areas in order not to run into confiscation problems.

Journalists who have been physically attacked by Arabs are obviously even more acutely attuned to where they go and what they say. Chicago Tribune reporter Hugh Dellios suffered a severe beating in Jerusalem's Old City on the eighth day of the riots. Dellios and a colleague from the Toronto Star who was with him that day now "think good and hard about where we're going."

Dellios reckons that the treatment he received was because he was singled out as a Westerner in the angry crowd milling about looking for targets.

"Some women started screaming, 'He's an American,'" Dellios recalls. "They knew we were journalists, but they suspected that I was an Israeli provocateur."

This same suspicion was directed at Wall Street Journal Middle East correspondent Steven Glain. Twice, while covering the riots from the rooftops of Jerusalem's Old City, Arab youths asked Glain if he was Jewish.

Veteran Canadian Broadcasting Company foreign correspondent Neil Macdonald tells of a recent incident in Nablus (Shechem) where he was surrounded by a group of young Arab rioters who suspected the journalist and his crew were Israeli undercover forces.

"I'm a 6'6" WASP," Macdonald says. But the gang persisted, even after his Palestinian fixer vouched for his journalistic credentials. Demonstrating his close ties with local Arab leaders, Macdonald called a Nablus politician who sent someone from his office "to make them disappear." A similar event occurred a few weeks later in El Khader, a known Hamas stronghold, where "10,000 very angry people" were attending a funeral.

"The Fatah activists were getting pretty nervous and aggressive and kept on asking 'who are you?'" Macdonald recounts.

The CBC correspondent has completed two and a half years of a four-year stint here. He claims that the threats don't impact much on his coverage, but he relates several anecdotes of physical violence against other journalists. He's learned a little Arabic, not much Hebrew. Asked what is the greatest constraint on full coverage of the intifada, Macdonald says it's the danger of being caught in the crossfire.

"I don't trust that the IDF won't shoot me because I'm a reporter," he declares. "I think of the IDF as a democratic institution but that's not to say there aren't people from Kiryat Arba (a suburb of Hebron) in the IDF."

TOMORROW: Exploring complaints journalists have with restrictions imposed by Israeli authorities.

Read Part 1: "Media frightened into self-censorship."