1 Sep 1994 | Magazine, Magazine Editions, Volume 23.05 September 1994
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20 Jun 2025 | Afghanistan, Asia and Pacific, Europe and Central Asia, News and features, United Kingdom
Authoritarianism has grown stronger all over the world, and the space for free expression has shrunk. Journalists, writers, and activists are being silenced simply for speaking the truth. Many face threats, arrest, or violence at the hands of those in power.
In Afghanistan, since the Taliban returned to power, freedom of expression has nearly disappeared. Independent journalism is no longer possible. In today’s Afghanistan, expressing your opinion, especially if you are a woman, is not just discouraged, it is dangerous. If you criticise the Taliban’s policies, you are certainly destined for jail.
Over the past four years, thousands of Afghans, including many journalists, have been forced to flee, have been imprisoned or tortured, or have fallen completely silent out of fear.
This is a clear violation of international human rights laws, which recognise freedom of expression as one of the foundations of a just and democratic society. But across the world, censorship is on the rise. The list of people imprisoned for writing an article, attending a peaceful protest, or posting something critical online keeps growing. Many of these individuals have sought safety in Western countries.
Unfortunately, with Donald Trump’s new administration, immigration policies, particularly in the USA, have become much stricter. As a result, fewer at-risk journalists and writers are being offered asylum, even when their lives are clearly in danger.
The UK remains one of the countries that continues to offer refuge to some of these individuals. But the need is much greater. I urge the UK government to expand its support and provide real protection for those forced to flee their countries for telling the truth.
Every journalist, writer, professor, or activist who finds safety in a democratic country carries with them the voice of many others left behind. Protecting these voices is not just a humanitarian act, it is a defence of truth, history, and freedom itself.
I am one of those journalists. I once worked freely in Kabul, reporting stories and raising awareness of issues. But when the Taliban regained power in 2021, I had no space in my own hometown. As a woman and a journalist, it was a double danger. When journalists started being arrested, tortured, or forced into hiding, I realised I had no choice but to leave. Escaping was painful but staying meant silence – or worse.
Now, I live in the UK. This country not only gave me shelter but also allowed me to raise my voice again. Here, I can write, interview, and speak freely. I can be a voice for those women whose rights and voices have been brutally taken away.
Giving refuge to at-risk journalists is not just about saving individuals, it is about defending the values of democracy and free speech. Countries like the UK show they stand for these values not just in words but through real action.
By welcoming journalists like me, the UK has shown it respects truth, protects the vulnerable, and supports future generations who dream of justice. I may live far from home, but I am still working every day to amplify the voices of Afghan women and girls living under oppression.
Sadly, many Afghan journalists are still trapped in countries like Iran and Pakistan. They live in uncertainty, without freedom, without work, and without hope. If the world ignores them, their voices, and their stories, may be lost forever.
We must not forget that in any society, freedom of expression allows people to ask questions, challenge power, and share new ideas. It leads to innovation, growth, and justice. As the British philosopher John Stuart Mill said in his book On Liberty, freedom of speech is essential to personal development and social progress. Through open debate, we find truth and correct our past mistakes.
18 Jun 2025 | Egypt, Israel, Middle East and North Africa, News and features, Palestine
At a quiet corner of an apartment in Cairo, Palestinian journalists now sit staring at a blank screen. Just months ago, they were reporting from the heart of Gaza – documenting airstrikes, interviewing survivors, filing stories that made global headlines.
Today, they’re unemployed, unheard, and in exile.
More than 250 journalists from Gaza are now living in Egypt after fleeing the Israeli military campaign that began in October 2023, according to figures from the Palestinian Journalists Syndicate, which now has a presence in Cairo. Others have evacuated the Strip for countries including Oman, Qatar, Turkey and Canada since the start of what we call a genocide.
Once at the frontlines of war reporting, these journalists are now caught in a different kind of crisis – one marked by silencing, legal limbo, and professional erasure.
Most of these journalists were freelancers, with no long-term contracts, no medical insurance, no institutional protection, and no guarantee of employment after evacuation. Their cameras are packed away. Their microphones sit unused. Without work permits, they can’t be legally employed in Egypt, and with little to no support, many are struggling to survive.
“I was a journalist until the day I crossed the border.” “Now, I am just a refugee with a press card that no longer holds any weight.” This is how Palestinian journalists describe their current situation.
A minority of journalists who worked with international news outlets – those with permanent staff contracts – have been more fortunate. Some were able to join the bureaus of their agencies abroad, while others continue to receive their salaries, even while displaced. But for the vast majority, the collapse of Gaza’s media infrastructure has left them jobless, voiceless, and adrift.
And the barriers are not only bureaucratic – they are political. Egypt has denied work permits to Palestinians evacuating the war in Gaza, including professionals, journalists, and academics.
This policy effectively bars Gaza’s journalists from continuing their work. No matter their skills, credentials, or experience, they are not allowed to contribute to the media landscape in the country where they have sought refuge.
Worse still, for those of us who worked for Al Jazeera, a separate wall exists.
The Qatari-based network has been banned in Egypt since 2011, following the uprising that overthrew the former president Hosni Mubarak. Its bureau was shut down, and journalists affiliated with the network were subjected to persecution and arrests. Today, more than a decade later, that ban remains in place. This means that Al Jazeera journalists from Gaza, now exiled in Egypt, are prohibited from working, even remotely, fearing the risk of being persecuted.
Having worked as an Al Jazeera correspondent in Gaza, I now find myself among those silenced – not because I’ve stopped caring, not because I’ve lost the will to report, but because the system has made it impossible for me to continue. The war didn’t just displace us from our homes; it severed us from our profession, from our identities, and from the world we once informed.
Our voices were once loud enough to echo around the world. Now we whisper into the void. The silence is devastating – not just professionally, but emotionally and psychologically.
For journalists, reporting is not just a job. It is a calling and a mission. We bear witness, we document truth, we speak for the voiceless. Being denied the right to report is like being denied the right to breathe.
Many journalists now live in small apartments, surviving on the goodwill of friends, NGOs, or savings that are quickly running out. Some are supporting children and elderly family members, with no income and no clarity on what the future holds. The stress is enormous. The uncertainty is constant.
And yet, the genocide in Gaza continues. Our colleagues who remain inside – those who survived airstrikes, lost family members, or saw their homes flattened – continue to risk everything to report. But even they are running out of tools, electricity, and time. Many of them rely on us in exile to amplify their voices. And we are desperate to do so, but unable.
The consequences of this silencing reach far beyond individual careers. They represent a systemic erasure of the Palestinian narrative. At a time when truth-telling is critical, Gaza’s journalists – those who carry the first-hand accounts, the context, the memory – are being sidelined.
This is not just a loss for us. It’s a loss for journalism, for history, for the world.
The international community, especially global media outlets and press freedom organisations, must act. Gaza’s exiled journalists need legal recognition, support, and pathways to work – whether through temporary relocation programmes, freelance partnerships, or legal aid to navigate the permit systems.
We need allies; we need solidarity; we need our roles as truth-tellers to be restored.
We didn’t choose to leave. We fled for survival. But we still carry the burden of our people’s stories. We still carry the fire and drive to tell them. What we need now is the space and permission to speak.
Let our silence not be the final chapter.
