In the shadow of relentless violence and mounting tragedy, Palestinian journalists in Gaza have faced unimaginable peril and loss since the onset of Israel’s war on the Strip in October 2023. The toll on this community—now numbering over 250 journalists killed—has reverberated far beyond the besieged enclave, sparking global vigils, anguished calls for justice, and fierce debates about the responsibilities of the international media and governments.
On August 25, 2025, the conflict’s cost became heartbreakingly personal for the Abu Taha family. According to The Independent, Palestinian journalist Adli Abu Taha anxiously phoned his brother Moaz, also a journalist, just minutes after news broke of an Israeli strike on Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis, southern Gaza. Moaz was already at the site, filming the aftermath of the initial strike that had killed Hossam Al-Masri, a 49-year-old veteran photojournalist. Adli urged his brother to leave, but Moaz, ever the committed reporter, replied, “I’m fine, but Hossam Al-Masri was just killed.” He promised to leave soon, wanting to finish documenting the devastation. Moments later, a second Israeli strike hit the same stairwell, killing Moaz and four other journalists.
This single day’s violence underscored the extraordinary dangers Palestinian journalists face. Hossam Al-Masri, whose live feed for Reuters had “suddenly shut down” when the first shell struck, had been among the last to leave Nasser Hospital during Israel’s siege in December 2024. As he covered the escalating violence, he also bore private agony—his wife’s cancer treatment had become impossible due to the collapse of Gaza’s health system. Days before his death, Hossam pleaded with a colleague to help evacuate his wife for medical care. She and their children remain in Gaza, their future uncertain.
The same attack claimed the life of Mariam Abu Daqqah, a 33-year-old freelance journalist and mother who worked with outlets such as the Associated Press and The Independent. Her brother, Sudqi Abu Daqah, recounted how Mariam would visit displaced encampments, buying pencils and notebooks for orphaned children. At night, she would weep over her phone, kissing the photo of her 13-year-old son, Ghaith, whom she had managed to evacuate to the United Arab Emirates. Sensing the growing threat to journalists, Mariam wrote her son a will: “Don’t cry for me, but pray for me. Keep up with your studies and grow up to be successful.”
Also killed that day was Muhammad Salama, just 24, who had carved out a career in journalism despite losing his mother as a child and living with relatives. He had recently joined Al Jazeera and was engaged to marry his colleague, Hala Asfour, once a ceasefire was reached. Their plans, like so many others in Gaza, were cut short by violence.
The deaths of Moaz, Hossam, Mariam, and Muhammad are part of a grim pattern. As reported by The Independent and Sky News, more than 250 Palestinian journalists have been killed since October 2023. But the targeting of Palestinian journalists is not new. It stretches back decades—to the assassination of writer and journalist Ghassan Kanafani in Beirut in 1972, widely regarded as Israel’s first targeted killing of a Palestinian. Kanafani’s legacy of “committed journalism”—reporting in the service of liberation—has inspired generations, many of whom now risk (and lose) their lives to document Gaza’s suffering.
The human cost of this reporting extends beyond the journalists themselves. Wael Al-Dahdouh, Al Jazeera’s Gaza bureau chief, suffered the loss of his wife Amna, 15-year-old son Mahmoud, seven-year-old daughter Sham, and grandchild Adam in an Israeli airstrike in October 2023. Weeks later, his eldest son Hamza, also a journalist, was killed in southern Gaza. In an interview with Sky News on September 11, 2025, Al-Dahdouh voiced deep frustration and grief: “Why should I lose my wife, my lifelong friend and partner, my son, my daughter? My son was preparing to be a journalist, my eldest son Hamza was a journalist already and a colleague of mine.”
Al-Dahdouh also condemned what he described as the world’s indifference, saying, “The world has been treating us with indifference… even the coverage by our colleagues abroad.” He questioned whether this disregard stemmed from prejudice, asking, “Is it because of the colour of our skin? Or the colour of our eyes? Aren’t we all created equal after all?” For Al-Dahdouh, the lack of “adherence to norms and standards of journalism” in international coverage was at times more painful than the violence itself. He warned that Israel’s ban on international press had left local journalists isolated: “Without local journalists, nobody would have known about the genocide and the tragedies that have been going on.”
Al-Dahdouh’s warnings extended beyond Gaza, cautioning, “If nobody does anything, those who perpetrate these crimes will encourage others elsewhere to do the same and one day the fire will reach you in your own homes and houses.”
Israel, for its part, has repeatedly denied targeting civilians or journalists and has rejected accusations of genocide. According to Sky News, a letter from the UK’s Deputy Prime Minister David Lammy stated that the British government had concluded Israel was not committing genocide in Gaza, but emphasized that Israel “must do much more” to prevent and alleviate suffering.
The ongoing violence against journalists has not gone unnoticed abroad. On September 10, 2025, a gathering was held on Headline Boulevard, across from the Albuquerque Journal, to honor the hundreds of journalists killed in Gaza. Organized by Jewish Voice for Peace, the event featured a somber procession with a casket topped by a press helmet and vest. Attendees carried signs, read aloud the names of the fallen, and flashed peace signs—publicly mourning the loss and drawing attention to the dangers faced by those reporting from conflict zones.
As The Albuquerque Journal reported, the gathering was both a tribute and a call to conscience, highlighting the essential role journalists play in bearing witness, even as they become targets themselves. The deaths of so many Palestinian journalists have forced the world to confront difficult questions about press freedom, accountability, and the value placed on different human lives.
Ultimately, the stories of Moaz, Hossam, Mariam, Muhammad, Wael, and so many others are not just tales of loss—they are reminders of the courage, commitment, and resilience of those who risk everything to document the truth, even when the world seems determined to look away.