In August, Israel’s then-ambassador to Washington, Michael Oren, wrote a letter to The New York Times complaining about a piece written by the paper’s correspondent, Jodi Rudoren. In his brief letter, he chastises the Times for, among other things, using the term “settlers”, a label he felt dehumanised those Israelis living in illegal colonies in the West Bank.
In another instance, several complaints were lodged with the BBC when a country profile of Israel left out a name for its capital. The BBC eventually made a change identifying Jerusalem as the “seat of government” of Israel but added the disclaimer: “though most foreign embassies are in Tel Aviv”. Israeli authorities were not satisfied with the change; neither were many Palestinians who consider East Jerusalem as the capital of their future state.
Complaints about diction in the media are as ubiquitous as the stories highlighting the decades-long Israeli-Palestinian conflict. This was one of the reasons that prompted the International Press Institute (IPI), a Vienna-based press freedom organisation, to take matters into its own hands by releasing a handbook of the most appropriate terms that journalists can use when covering this hot topic.
The aptly named Use with Care: A Reporter’s Glossary of Loaded Language in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict, put together by six Palestinian and Israeli journalists, is aimed at helping the media understand “how the language they use shapes reality and how different audiences would receive it and why”, explains Naomi Hunt, the handbook’s editor.
Use with Care lays out as many as 75 regularly used words and phrases deemed “problematic”, and offers alternatives in English, Hebrew and Arabic, but goes further by explaining why these terms are offensive or sensitive to Palestinian or Israeli audiences.
The IPI’s publication, which can be lauded for helping balance coverage and serving as a general guide for the media, instructs journalists on how to avoid clichés like “cycle of violence”, and lexicons like “Middle East expert” which provide no context on the contributor’s affiliation. It advises us to part with unnecessary phrases such as “heroic action”, “eternal capital” or “innocent civilians”.
In the handbook, specific geographical areas, such as the West Bank or Gaza Strip, are favoured over “contested areas”; “Zionist entity”, we are told, cannot be used to describe Israel, and “Judea and Samaria” are scrapped for the “West Bank”. Often misused words like “jihad” and “martyr” are explained thoroughly with necessary historical and political context.
No less important is the specific case of the term “settlers”, which the glossary has no alternative to. However, it does explain that the word can be derogatory to some, because it implies that these settlers don’t belong in the West Bank; a case in point being the “settlers” of East Jerusalem, who, according to some Israeli and international news outlets, live in “neighbourhoods”, rather than in illegal settlements or colonies.
This brings us to the issue of Jerusalem. Did the BBC err in judgement by suggesting Jerusalem is the capital of Israel? The book says that specifics are the best way to avoid factual errors when reporting. In this case, it advises journalists to use “East Jerusalem” when talking about what Palestinians (backed by international law) see as their future capital. It further explains that it’s problematic to use “united Jerusalem” to refer to Israel’s capital.
Suffice it to say that Use with Care is written with an interesting, but not unique, concept in mind. Many before have attempted to create a guideline to using “unbiased” words to report on this war-ravaged piece of land; for example, the BBC has recently updated its 2006 lexicon guide to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. But in a place like Palestine (I use it here even though the book suggests alternatives like “Palestinian Authority”, “West Bank and Gaza Strip”) and Israel, is this possible? And, if so, does it take away from the crux of what it means for Palestinians, to use as a specific example, to live under Israeli military rule?
Before he succumbed to cancer, the acclaimed literary theorist Edward Said once said : “Once in a while, we ought to pause and declare indignantly that there is only one side with an army and a country: the other is a stateless dispossessed population of people without rights ... The language of suffering and concrete daily life has either been hijacked, or it has been so perverted as, in my opinion, to be useless except as pure fiction ... .”
This also begs the question: if the conflict is deeply rooted, seemingly-intractable, bitter, bloody and partisan, shouldn’t the language used be reflective as such?
With its less incendiary alternatives to common expressions, the handbook targets not only foreign journalists but also Palestinian and Israeli ones who are affected personally by the conflict. But can these very same journalists, who are part of the conflict-ridden community, rise above their own prejudices? Perhaps. But why would they? The Palestinian media caters to the needs of readers, viewers and listeners who are subject to home demolitions or confiscations, theft of land or violence at the hand of settlers? The Israeli media also has its avid followers who – at best – may not understand why there’s such an emphasis on being politically correct or – at worst — may not even believe that Palestinians live under occupation.
For this reason alone, it may seem that this book is not aimed at Israeli or Palestinian journalists covering the conflict for their own national media outlets, but instead foreign journalists; or possibly local journalists writing for international media organisations. Alison Bethel McKenzie, the IPI’s executive director and publisher, however believes that the book is intended for every journalist covering the conflict, no matter where they are from. “I think it is indeed possible for journalists in Israel and in the Palestinian Territories to embrace the idea of using language that is more fair, less inciteful and, in most cases, neutral,” she says. “The very definition of a journalist contains the words “impartial” and “objective” and those who take their role seriously understand this ideal and strive for it.”
This leads a questioning of the very premise on which the handbook is based: that the struggle between Palestinians and Israel is one “between two communities [that] has been traumatic for both sides”. This kind of equity disguises the wide-reaching consequences of the hurdles and fears for safety faced by Palestinian journalists, perhaps even by some of the book’s writers. There’s hardly any emphasis in the book about how Palestinian journalists are often targeted by Israeli soldiers, that their inability to move around freely inside the West Bank is severely hindered or how gaining access to Israel or even Gaza is extremely difficult.
Use with Care does mention (but ever so lightly) that it had to be drafted by Palestinians and Israelis separately, before being merged by the IPI through “separate” discussion and revision. The editors say that the separation was made because of “restrictions Israel places on Palestinian journalists” and “political sensitivities”. But no effort was made in the foreword to explain what the vague restrictions or sensitivities are, as if their de-facto nature somehow makes them acceptable.
However, in an email exchange, Hunt explains that the sensitivities include fears by Palestinian journalists that they would be labelled as “normalising” with Israelis should it be known that they are working on a joint project as such. Another aspect is that: “In some cases the authors – on both sides – didn’t want to be seen as ‘approving’ editorial decisions that they disagreed with and expressed concerns that doing so could affect their jobs.”
This separateness that marked the writing process, however, along with the ubiquitousness of words like “neutral” and “fair”, almost makes one believe that the handbook was written in a laboratory somewhere. In this manner, a question missing from the discourse may very well be: “Shouldn’t the use of language be influenced by the political landscape?” Using “neutral” language does not necessarily mean a media outlet is innocent of bias. Case in point: a quantitative analysis carried out in 2003 found that even though The New York Times was using less “loaded words” than Ha’aretz, it still demonstratively showed more pro-Israel bias than the Israeli daily.
Hunt believes that the handbook acknowledges that journalists “have a right to exercise their press freedoms by expressing their conscience and their own political ideologies, of course, but journalists should understand that their daily choices are shaping the reality of this conflict”.
That language is a powerful tool as such is certainly true, but the book doesn’t seem to fully acknowledge that the very nature of this conflict – unbalanced to its core – cannot always be explained by the use of “neutral” or “unbiased” words, no matter how noble a quest that is.
Dalia Hatuqa is a journalist based in the West Bank. Follow her on Twitter at @daliahatuqa.
