Young Palestinian Whose Coverage of Gaza’s Destruction Went Viral Arrives in Lebanon to Pursue Master’s Degree

Plestia Alaqad, a Palestinian journalist, speaks during an interview with The Associated Press in Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2024. (AP)
Plestia Alaqad, a Palestinian journalist, speaks during an interview with The Associated Press in Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2024. (AP)
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Young Palestinian Whose Coverage of Gaza’s Destruction Went Viral Arrives in Lebanon to Pursue Master’s Degree

Plestia Alaqad, a Palestinian journalist, speaks during an interview with The Associated Press in Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2024. (AP)
Plestia Alaqad, a Palestinian journalist, speaks during an interview with The Associated Press in Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, Sept. 3, 2024. (AP)

A young Palestinian journalist whose coverage of the widespread destruction and humanitarian crisis in the Gaza Strip went viral now watches the war from afar in Lebanon.

Twenty-two-year-old Plestia Alaqad was just over a year out of university with a journalism degree when she found herself in the middle of a war zone. She donned a blue press helmet and vest to interview families in refugee camps and hospitals, posting the videos to Instagram.

"I can’t just look at what’s happening without doing anything," she told The Associated Press in an interview Tuesday in Beirut.

From Gaza City where she lived, Alaqad was among a handful of young journalists and media workers sharing what they saw on social media, with outside journalists unable to access the Palestinian enclave. She now has over 4.5 million followers on Instagram.

Alaqad landed in Lebanon last month to pursue a master’s degree in media studies at the American University of Beirut after being awarded a scholarship named after iconic Palestinian-American journalist Shireen Abu Akleh who was killed in 2022 while reporting on an Israeli military raid in the occupied West Bank.

Today she spends her days on the tranquil tree-lined AUB campus or in the cafes of Beirut's Hamra Street, but her mind remains in Gaza.

"You’re a journalist and a Palestinian human witnessing it," Alaqad told the AP, sitting in the patio of one of those cafes, wearing a black and white traditional keffiyeh scarf. Balancing those two roles "was the difficult part," she said.

She had already lived through three wars in Gaza by the time she graduated university, but the war that began on Oct. 7 was on a different scale.

The Israeli aerial bombardment and ground offensive triggered by the deadly Hamas-led attack on southern Israel - which killed some 1,200 people and took another 250 hostage - has killed over 40,000 Palestinians in Gaza, according to the Health Ministry. The war has caused vast destruction across the territory, with entire neighborhoods wiped out and critical infrastructure heavily damaged.

"It used to break my heart seeing kids standing in lines for hours just to buy bread or to fill tanks with water," Alaqad said. "Instead of those kids being at a school, they’re standing in line to do these chores."

By covering the impact of the humanitarian crisis as a result of Israel's blockade of Gaza and aid agencies' struggles to reach the civilian population, she hoped that it would counter what she saw as the "dehumanization" of Palestinians in the wider media and show that they are more than "just numbers."

"I used to connect with the people, and get to know them on a deeper level so people can remember their names, their smiles, and who they are," Alaqad said.

Reporting while tending to her own and her family’s well-being and safety was often complicated.

Electricity and telecom cuts at times made charging equipment and uploading material a challenge. Sometimes she would have to put work on hold to secure basic items, including food.

"I would think ‘what a downgrade’ — why am I spending three hours of my day just to search for eggs?" she said.

During almost two months covering the war, Alaqad said she was displaced several times, moving between houses and hospital in Gaza City before heading south to stay with relatives in Khan Younis.

One night, her mother told her that her uncle in Australia had secured them temporary visas to evacuate, and that the family was put on a list to leave through the Rafah border crossing with Egypt in several hours.

Alaqad said she was reluctant to leave, but felt that continuing to cover the war would be an eventual death sentence, and so she left for Australia in late November.

The United Nations and human rights organizations have been alarmed by the large number of journalists killed in Gaza since Oct. 7. Committee to Protect Journalists says it has confirmed that least 111 Palestinian journalists and media workers in Gaza have been killed.

In March, three dozen leaders at news organizations around the world, including the AP, signed a letter expressing solidarity with journalists in the tiny enclave, calling for their safety and freedom to report there.

"You either get forcefully displaced out of your country, or eventually you’d get targeted and killed," Alaqad said. "I felt at one point that we will all stay in Gaza and just get killed and the story will never go out to the world."

Since she left, more of Gaza has been levelled to the ground in Israeli military operations. The vast majority of Gaza's population of 2.3 million people have been displaced and no longer have access to the Rafah crossing. Large-scale polio vaccinations began Sunday in response to an outbreak of the rare disease as humanitarian organizations warn that lack of aid and worsening living conditions pose major public health risks.

Efforts for a ceasefire and the release of Israeli hostages mediated by Qatar, Egypt, and the United States remain unsuccessful.

Alaqad said witnessing the destruction of schools and universities in Gaza has given even more importance to her in furthering her education. She hopes to return to report on Gaza's reconstruction once a ceasefire agreement is reached and on the Palestinians' ongoing advocacy for self-determination.

"You can leave Gaza, but I don’t think Gaza can ever leave you," she said.



Syrian Artist Destroys Statue Outside UN in Political Message

The United Nations flag flies at half-mast at the European headquarters, honouring the more than 100 employees killed in Gaza since the Israel-Hamas war began last month in Geneva, Switzerland, November 13, 2023. REUTERS/Denis Balibouse Purchase Licensing Rights
The United Nations flag flies at half-mast at the European headquarters, honouring the more than 100 employees killed in Gaza since the Israel-Hamas war began last month in Geneva, Switzerland, November 13, 2023. REUTERS/Denis Balibouse Purchase Licensing Rights
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Syrian Artist Destroys Statue Outside UN in Political Message

The United Nations flag flies at half-mast at the European headquarters, honouring the more than 100 employees killed in Gaza since the Israel-Hamas war began last month in Geneva, Switzerland, November 13, 2023. REUTERS/Denis Balibouse Purchase Licensing Rights
The United Nations flag flies at half-mast at the European headquarters, honouring the more than 100 employees killed in Gaza since the Israel-Hamas war began last month in Geneva, Switzerland, November 13, 2023. REUTERS/Denis Balibouse Purchase Licensing Rights

Syrian sculptor Khaled Dawwa on Friday destroyed his giant artwork outside the United Nations office in Geneva to denounce tens of thousands of enforced disappearances in Syria.

Using saws and hammers, relatives of disappeared Syrians helped the artist break apart the wood, plaster and foam statue on the International Day of the Disappeared.

"We are here to protest against the system, to say, 'enough'. We have a right to know the truth," the 39-year-old sculptor, who lives in exile in France, told AFP.

Dawwa's 3.5 metre (11ft 6 inch) - high colossus, "The King of Holes", depicted a potentate with a massive body, reflecting the artist's condemnation of oppressive power, before it was thrashed to pieces.

The idea for the protest came from rights group Syria Campaign, which suggested that Dawwa tear down the installation outside the UN headquarters.

He created it in 2021 in Paris with the intention of demolishing it later. "It is a fragile piece that is difficult to keep," he said.

Dawwa took part in Syria's demonstrations in 2012 that escalated into a bloody, protracted war.

He was in his studio in May 2013 when he was severely wounded by bullet fragments from a government helicopter and jailed for two months after leaving hospital. Echoing the conflict, the legs, face and arms of the artwork are riddled with small holes.

Amongst the rights campaigners on site was Wafa Mustafa, 34, who has not heard from her father since he was arrested in 2013.

"This statue, to all the Syrian families here, does not represent only the Assad regime" which is mainly "responsible for the detention of our loved ones", the Syria Campaign activist told AFP.

"But also it represents the international community and the UN that has failed us for the past 13 years" and "has not provided any real action to stop the massacre in Syria, and to give Syrians their basic human rights," she said.

Around 100,000 people have disappeared in the Syria as part of government repression or kidnappings by anti-regime militias, according to several non-profit organizations.

Ahmad Helmi, 34, said he had fled Syria after he was arrested by the country's secret services as a university student, and jailed for three years.

He followed Dawwa to Geneva to help him destroy the statue.

"The pain of three years in prison, three years of torture... doesn't count to one day of the pain my mum experienced every single day when I was disappeared," said Helmi.

"Hundreds of thousands of families and mothers are in Syria and around the world today experiencing the same pain," he added.

The Syrian war began after the repression of anti-government protests in 2011 and spiralled into a complex conflict drawing in foreign armies and militants, killing more than 500,000 people and displacing millions.

Dawwa says the statue's holes are like those made by "animals that eat wood".

"For me, that's like hope," he said. "There is always something that eats at it."