The BBC’s retraction of how to survive a war zone sets a dangerous precedent

The BBC recently removed its documentary Gaza: How to Survive a War Zone from iPlayer, apologising for “serious flaws” in its production. 

The film followed 13-year-old Abdullah, who volunteered in a hospital amid Gaza’s devastation, offering a rare glimpse into the horrors of genocide through a child’s eyes. However, under pressure, the BBC erased the documentary—not due to factual inaccuracies, but because Abdullah’s father, Dr. Ayman al-Yazouri, is a deputy minister in Gaza’s Hamas-run civil administration. 

Erasing this documentary is deeply troubling, reflecting a broader Western media trend: vilifying Palestinians not for their actions but for mere proximity to their government. It enforces guilt by association—a standard rarely, if ever, applied elsewhere.

The BBC’s justification: A disturbing standard 

Initially, the BBC planned to clarify details about Abdullah’s family while keeping the film online. Instead, after a letter from 45 Jewish journalists and media workers called for its removal, the broadcaster pulled it entirely. The justification? Abdullah’s father held a government position under Hamas, which has governed Gaza since 2007 and is designated a terrorist organisation by the UK and others. 

This reasoning is misleading and alarming. In stark contrast, 500 media figures signed a petition calling for the documentary to remain online, underscoring the importance of preserving journalistic integrity and the free flow of information. Dr. al-Yazouri, a UK-educated technocrat, has no known ties to Hamas’ military wing. His role in Gaza’s agricultural administration—one of the few institutions sustaining basic services—does not make him a combatant, nor does it make his son an extension of Hamas. 

In stark contrast, 500 media figures signed a petition calling for the documentary to remain online, underscoring the importance of preserving journalistic integrity and the free flow of information.

In Gaza, where unemployment exceeded 70% before October 2023, many work in these institutions out of necessity. To paint all Gaza government workers as complicit in violence is to criminalise survival itself.

When identity becomes a crime 

The BBC’s statement reinforced this flawed logic, declaring it had “no plans to broadcast the programme again.” A key question remains unanswered: what was the actual issue with the film? Abdullah was not portrayed as promoting any ideology. He was a child living through war, navigating destruction while trying to help the wounded. 

But instead of allowing his story to be told, the BBC chose to remove his voice entirely. This reflects a growing trend where Palestinians are judged not as individuals but as political extensions. If someone is linked—however tenuously—to Hamas’ civil administration, their humanity becomes secondary to that association. The documentary was not about Hamas or Abdullah’s father but about a child enduring war. 

Yet it was erased because Western media often views Palestinians as inherently suspect. Filmmaker Richard Sanders, who covered Gaza for Al Jazeera, called the backlash "inevitable," noting that Hamas is central to Palestinian life. "They won the last elections and governed Gaza. Excluding anyone linked to them silences Palestinians —'which is the aim.' 

Reinforcing Israel’s narrative 

The BBC’s decision does more than silence one child’s story—it bolsters Israel’s framing of the genocide in Gaza. Israel has long argued that Hamas embeds itself within civilian life, making every government worker, hospital, and school complicit in terrorism. By pulling the documentary, the BBC lends credibility to this narrative, suggesting that even a child’s suffering must be viewed through the lens of political suspicion. 

If Palestinians in Gaza are automatically viewed as extensions of Hamas, it becomes easier to justify their collective punishment. 

This has real consequences. If Palestinians in Gaza are automatically viewed as extensions of Hamas, it becomes easier to justify their collective punishment. Civilian deaths are reframed as collateral damage, and the mass deprivation of an entire population is rationalised as a necessary security measure rather than a deliberate policy of subjugation. 

This narrative doesn’t just enable the erasure of Palestinian voices in mainstream media—it ensures that stories from Gaza are filtered through the lens of security threats, reinforcing a discourse that legitimises their suffering rather than addressing its political roots in occupation and settler colonialism.

The BBC’s self-inflicted damage 

By caving to pressure, the BBC has not only undermined journalistic integrity but also damaged its own credibility. Its statement admitted “unacceptable” mistakes, taking “full responsibility for the impact on the corporation’s reputation.” 

But the real damage was not in airing the documentary—it was in removing it. If the concern was transparency about Abdullah’s family, a clarification would have sufficed. Instead, the BBC sent a chilling message: Gaza’s stories are only acceptable if they fit the right narrative. If a child’s suffering challenges that narrative, it is easier to erase than defend.

A broader media failure 

The BBC’s decision is not isolated. It reflects a wider trend in Western media, where Palestinian perspectives are marginalised or dismissed. Even the BBC’s apology— focusing on Abdullah’s parentage rather than his experience—illustrates how Palestinian voices are filtered through political considerations. 

By reinforcing the idea that Palestinians are complicit in Hamas simply by existing in Gaza, media outlets contribute to their dehumanisation. This ensures Palestinian suffering is acknowledged only when it aligns with dominant geopolitical narratives. It also allows institutions like the BBC to avoid accountability for shaping how the world sees this conflict. By retracting How to Survive a War Zone, the BBC did not just remove a documentary—it set a dangerous precedent. 

It signaled that Palestinian stories can be erased if they make the wrong people uncomfortable. It suggested Palestinian children’s suffering matters less than Western media’s fear of controversy. And it proved that, for institutions claiming journalistic integrity, mere proximity to Hamas is enough to silence even the most human stories. Abdullah’s experience deserved to be told. Instead, it was buried—not because it was false, but because the truth was inconvenient.

Photo credit: Diana khwaelid on Unsplash

The views and opinions expressed in SOAS Blogs are solely those of the respective authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the organisation or act as an endorsement.