Every year on 3 May, the communities around the globe mark World Press Freedom Day, an occasion meant to reaffirm the protection of journalists and their right to report freely.
In the war-torn Gaza , however, the day lands with a different weight, less a celebration than a reminder of the cost of bearing witness in a place where the line between observer and victim has all but disappeared. There, journalism is not a profession conducted at a distance. It is lived, endured, and survived, often simultaneously.
Speaking with The New Arab, Palestinian journalists said they mostly find themselves documenting devastation while navigating it in their own lives, moving between the roles of reporter, survivor, and parent, with little room to separate them.
For Mohammed Omar, a 36-year-old freelance journalist and father of three, this tension defines daily life.
Without a stable contract or consistent income, he works with several foreign outlets while supporting an extended family that includes his elderly parents and four sisters. The war has not only shaped his reporting but also dismantled his personal life.
Like hundreds of others, Mohammed and his family have been repeatedly displaced from Gaza City to Deir al-Balah, then Khan Younis, Rafah, and back again. Today, he lives in a tent with his wife and children, while his parents and sisters remain in another, far away.
"I no longer know how to balance being a journalist with being a father," Mohammed told TNA. "Every time I go out to cover an event, I think: will I return to my children?"
Even the act of working has become an ordeal. Mohammed walks for nearly an hour every day to find a functioning internet connection to file his reports.
Sometimes, he is forced to get donkey carts, slow, unreliable, and often forced to stop mid-journey in search of passengers or signals to let them pay through electronic wallets.
"Sometimes I arrive too late, or I cannot send my material at all […] I feel like I am gradually losing my job," he said.
"What hurts me most is the thought of being targeted and leaving my children alone," he added. "This fear never leaves me." Wounds that wait These fears are grounded in a grim reality. According to the government media office in Gaza , at least 262 journalists and media workers have been killed since the war began, one of the highest tolls recorded globally.
More than 420 others have been injured, many sustaining permanent disabilities. Dozens have been arrested, and others remain missing, according to the government media office.
Behind these numbers are stories like that of Maher Al-Afifi, a cameraman and editor with Palestine TV , whose attempt to report the war nearly cost him his life and whose struggle for treatment became a battle of its own.
Maher was wounded by shrapnel in his left thigh while working in northern Gaza . But the injury marked the beginning of a long medical ordeal compounded by siege conditions and severe restrictions on travel.
"Under normal circumstances, I would have travelled long ago for treatment," Maher told TNA from Cairo, where he arrived only days ago after finally securing permission to leave Gaza. "But the closure of the crossing turned my condition into a race against time."
For more than two years, he waited among dozens of thousands of patients for a chance to leave the Strip, as only a limited number were allowed through.
"Every delay meant my health deteriorated further," he said.
Maher's condition was already complicated. He has psoriasis and has been on prolonged cortisone treatment, weakening his immune system. His health worsened dramatically when he developed a perforated stomach, requiring the removal of 60 per cent of the organ in an emergency surgery at Kamal Adwan Hospital under dire conditions.
"The illness itself was not the only problem," he added. "It was the inability to access proper treatment. I knew I was getting worse, but I could not do anything."
Following the surgery, doctors at Al-Shifa Hospital discovered a cancerous mass in his stomach, requiring urgent intervention at a time when Gaza's healthcare system was collapsing under sustained bombardment and shortages.
"If I had been able to travel earlier, I might not have reached this stage," he explained.
His health declined, compounded by an undiagnosed heart attack and repeated transfers between overstretched hospitals. Only after a public appeal by fellow journalists in March 2026 was he able to leave Gaza for treatment.
"Even when I finally travelled, it felt like a delayed rescue," Maher said. "What happened to me could have been avoided if the crossings had opened in time."
His story reflects a broader pattern, such as injured journalists trapped between life-threatening conditions and a healthcare system unable to provide adequate care. Trauma without pause Beyond physical danger, the psychological toll on Gaza's journalists is profound and ongoing.
"A journalist in Gaza does not experience a single trauma, but a continuous chain of traumas. There is no real chance for recovery," Sarah Mahdi, a Gaza-based psychologist, told TNA .
Mahdi said that reporters routinely witness death and destruction, document it, and then return to precarious living conditions where they themselves remain at risk.
"This overlap between personal and professional experience intensifies the psychological impact," she said.
"Symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder are widespread, including chronic anxiety, insomnia, and the persistent reliving of traumatic scenes," she added.
Some journalists can no longer sleep properly. Others live in a constant state of anticipation, as if danger is permanent, according to Sarah.
The fear of being directly targeted adds another layer of strain, particularly for those with families.
"The idea that a journalist might leave home and never return has become a daily obsession," she added.
Compounding the crisis is the near-total absence of mental health support. With Gaza's healthcare system under immense pressure, specialised psychological services remain scarce.
"Many are facing these pressures alone," she said.
In a press statement marking World Press Freedom Day, the Palestinian Journalists Syndicate described journalism in Palestine as "a daily battle," citing killings, arrests, and restrictions on reporting.
It called on the international community to ensure protection for journalists and accountability for violations against them.
Yet for those on the ground, such appeals often feel distant.
Despite the risks, Abed al-Hakim Abu Riash, a cameraman in Gaza, continues his work, moving through rubble and displacement camps with his camera and phone, determined to document what unfolds around him.
"Sometimes I feel like I am living two lives […] One where I try to survive with my family, and another where I try to tell the world what is happening," he told TNA . "In Gaza , the story is inescapable. Journalists do not need to search for it as they live within it. But in telling it, they also become part of it, paying a price measured not only in exhaustion and fear, but in injury, loss, and the constant threat of death."
"Unfortunately, on a day meant to celebrate press freedom, our reality offers a stark counterpoint […] in Gaza, truth is not only reported as it is endured," he added.