And how I’m thinking about parsing disinformation and misinformation.
This story originally appeared on Jill.substack.com, a newsletter from journalist, lawyer and author Jill Filipovic.
I wanted to share what I’ve been reading and listening to about the ongoing Israel-Hamas war that has cost the lives of more than 25,000 Palestinians and some 1,400 Israelis, displaced the overwhelming majority of people in Gaza, and badly divided countries, communities and even families around the world.
This war continues to devastate Gaza; nowhere is safe, women and children are paying a particularly heinous price. The human toll is unfathomable, and no end is in sight—even if the fighting stops, there will be little in the way of homes, schools, hospitals or basic infrastructure to return to.
Israel continues to be led by corrupt, feckless and bigoted men who disregard demands to prioritize bringing hostages home, and instead put their own country on more dangerous ground by the day—while so many ordinary Israelis remain shellshocked from a vicious pogrom, and worried about their future safety and security.
Hamas continues to put Palestinian civilians at even greater risk, knowing that it benefits from a high body count.
Some things I have tried to hold through this conflict, and expand whenever I can: compassion for sorrow and suffering. Anger at dehumanization, degradation, abuse and fanaticism. Rejection of demands to oversimplify, or assign collective blame, or not speak the full truth, or take on any view that erases a person or group’s humanity or history or pain.
On this particular issue, I am doing a lot more reading and listening than writing and sharing.
In reading pretty voraciously, though, I see so, so much bad information being passed around, especially on social media: outright fabrications, but also highly ideological and truth-bending propaganda masquerading as news reporting. The truth is that there is no single story of this conflict—no one easy explanation, no one universally agreed-upon telling of what started what when, certainly no one clear solution. There is reality, of course, and there is truth, but reality for a Palestinian father trying to keep his children safe while sheltering from bombs in Khan Younis looks different than reality for an Israeli mother who storms Parliament demanding that her loved ones be brought home.
That isn’t to say that there is no objective reality—but simply that reality is a many-layered thing. What is top of mind, what you believe should be at the forefront of any discussions of this conflict, what should take precedence within it—much of that depends on where you sit.
I sit very far away. But from my vantage point, I have found so much of the discourse around this war—not to mention the war itself—to be deeply disturbing, betraying a profound inhumanity, a retreat to one’s in-group along with an indifference to the pain suffered by those outside of it, an instinct to only believe that which comports with one’s pre-existing biases, and a willingness to set aside principle. I’m shocked to see some of this even from people I used to respect.
Reality for a Palestinian father trying to keep his children safe while sheltering from bombs in Khan Younis looks different than reality for an Israeli mother who storms Parliament demanding that her loved ones be brought home.
Part of the problem seems to be informational: What we’re seeing, which often comes from what others in our social circles and peer groups are sharing, shapes what we believe to be right and true. Human beings naturally trust information more when it comes from someone we know. But it seems like a lot of people frankly don’t understand how to sort news from opinion, and are quick to embrace that which confirms their beliefs and quick to reject as biased or propaganda that which challenges them. Most people do not understand how our media ecosystems work, and which tools they can use to determine which sources are trustworthy, which deserve a higher level of skepticism and which should be set aside completely. That doesn’t mean people are stupid or ignorant; I think it means that journalists often vastly overestimate how much the public understands about our work and our institutions.
So I wanted to share both what I’m reading and listening to, as well as a little bit about how I’m thinking about the media I consume: how I assess the relative credibility of various sources, who I decide to follow and who I decide to disregard, how I try to break through the noise.
I’m far from a perfect media consumer, and my answers to these questions may be hugely different from yours. My own biases and preferences and blind spots absolutely inform what I find myself drawn to, as do yours. But I want to discuss the process by which I evaluate sources and information, because in this moment of extreme disinformation and misinformation, it’s worth considering how much we understand about how media ecosystems function, and how we’re deciding what we consume and what we share.
If you just want the list of what I’m reading and listening to, skip to the end.
1. Know your sources, and understand their standards.
One of the most useful things to understand as a reader and consumer of media is how different media outlets operate—what their standards are, whether they have checks on those standards and what they do when they get it wrong. Every news organization is made up of fallible human beings, with their own perspectives and biases; no newsroom is neutral. But some publications strive to be fairer or more balanced or more accurate than others, and have structures in place to facilitate that. They don’t always succeed, but understanding how different publications operate is crucial to deciding who and what to trust.
A responsible news organization will generally require multiple points of corroboration or sourcing, especially for contested or provocative claims. They should be transparent about who and where the information is coming from, and use anonymous sources only where necessary. They should rely on original reporting—not just repeating what other reporters have found or what’s been posted to social media—and be clear about how they’ve corroborated claims and where those claims have come from.
At various points during the Israel-Hamas war, I’ve seen people get angry at publications for appending sentences “…according to Hamas-run Gaza Ministry of Health statistics,” or “…according to numbers published by an Israeli government website” or “…according to [organization], a pro-Palestinian advocacy group.” That isn’t a sign of publications casting doubt on those numbers or statistics or statements; it is a sign of a publication being transparent with readers about what it can and cannot independently verify, and where the numbers its publishing are coming from.
And as circumstances change, news sources adjust. Take the “Hamas-run Gaza Ministry of Health statistics.” Earlier on in the war, there were questions about how reliable those statistics were, especially given that the health ministry was run by a party to the war. A high-profile miscount after an explosion at a hospital also made publications a bit more wary about quoting those figures without fuller context. After independent analyses, including by The Lancet, and a long track record of the Gaza Ministry of Health numbers roughly matching those of the U.N. in past wars, several news outlets have relaxed this standard, or clarified to readers why they believe the numbers are reliable.
These standards sometimes mean that reputable publications are slower to publish information than people on Twitter are to share it. Yes, news organizations love scoops, and they seek to be first. But if you’re asking, Why hasn’t X publication covered Y? when you’ve seen Y thing all over Twitter or on smaller blogs, the answer isn’t necessarily, Because they don’t care. It very well may be because they’re doing the actual work of investigating it, not simply repeating what others have said. And doing that work well takes time.
These standards also don’t mean that publications always get it right. Many news outlets absolutely do create a higher bar for some groups than others, and for verifying or corroborating some claims compared to others. Readers and media critics should ask questions when there seems to be hypocrisy or double standards at play. But having standards that should apply across the board is a necessary baseline for a new outlet’s reliability.
2. Does This Publication Fact-Check? Do They Correct Themselves?
Responsible news organizations should strive to get things right, and have institutional safeguards in place to do just that. Those safeguards include corroboration and transparency requirements above, as well as layers of editors and fact-checkers. At a reputable news outlet, nothing goes from reporter’s pen to publication without several sets of eyes on it.
Obviously I don’t think it’s bad to write an opinion newsletter without an editor involved. It is bad, though, when writers aren’t transparent with their readers about what they’re doing, and when they pretend to be straight news reporters when what they’re actually doing is writing opinion columns.
Even with significant safeguards in place, no publication gets it right 100 percent of the time. The question then is what happens when they get things wrong. Responsible publications of any sort will not only correct incorrect claims or, in extreme cases, retract entire stories, but will do so publicly (and whether they issue a correction or retract an entire story will depend on the nature and scope of the error). A responsible publication will be transparent about any errors and transparent about correcting them. A publication (or person) who never admits their mistakes, or leaves those mistakes in the public realm or quietly takes them down without correction or recognition, is not to be trusted.
3. Is There a Wall Between News and Opinion?
Reputable news organizations also differentiate between reporting and opinion, and make it clear to the reader which is which. This is one thing that differentiates a newspaper or news network from a magazine or a blog or an opinion and analysis outlet or a newsletter like this one. And it’s frankly something that differentiates responsible writers from irresponsible ones. Are we transparent about whether we are straight news reporters, whether we are magazine writers, or whether we are opinion writers? Are publications transparent about what they’re offering readers?
For example: I’m a journalist, but I’m not a hard news reporter. I do not break stories; I do not work in a newsroom. That doesn’t mean I don’t report or that I’m an untrustworthy liar. I often write reported magazine stories and opinion columns, which means that I am doing the work of reporting—of physically going places, of talking to people, of interviewing experts, of gather data, of asking questions, of corroborating claims—and incorporating it into my stories or op/eds. But I don’t try to obscure the fact that I write from a particular point of view. This is why, for example, the New York Times will print something I’ve written on their op-ed pages, but they would never, ever allow me to write a news story. I’ve placed myself on the opinion side of the wall, and at most reputable newspapers, you can only cross one way (from news to opinion, and then there is rarely any going back).
This is why, if you’re a reporter at The New York Times, you are not permitted to sign political petitions or advocate for causes or attend protests as a participant, especially those related to topics you cover. Readers need to trust that reporters are at least trying to be as neutral as possible. It is, of course, impossible for any human being to live without biases. But one obligation of reporting the news is trying to tamp down or counter those biases and opinions as much as possible; to be more curious and truth-seeking than sure of oneself or seeking to affirm what one already believes to be true or advocating for a particular outcome. The job, hopefully, is to reveal, not to advocate.
I am, by nature, a person drawn to advocacy. When I see something I believe is wrong, I want to fix it. And so I use my writing as an advocacy tool. But I’m not particularly cagey about that; it’s no secret where I stand, and hopefully I am pretty transparent about the fact that, while I am a journalist, I am not a news reporter, and what I’m sending you here is not an attempt at unbiased news coverage. It’s my opinion, and my analysis.
This is also why, at some publications, you see significant tension between the op-ed pages and news. Take The Wall Street Journal, a highly reliable, incredibly thorough news operation that has an absolutely unhinged opinion page. If you read WSJ opinion, you may come away with the impression that the whole paper is a right-wing rag. That’s not true. The op-ed section is a right-wing rag. The reporting in the paper, though, is often excellent—because news and opinion are wholly separate entities.
Magazines are different from newspapers. Many magazines include in-depth reporting and strive for fairness and accuracy—and have strict standards in place to achieve both of those goals—but they often allow their writers to have a stronger point of view, and to make an argument or a case as much as report the facts on the ground. Magazines like the New Yorker and the Atlantic, for example, are not breaking-news organizations; they don’t have bureaus all over the world with reporters seeking out scoops. Their writers often have clear perspectives, and you can place them on the political spectrum (news reporters generally strive to be politically unplaceable). But these magazines also have multiple levels of editors and fact checkers who ensure that the quality of what they publish is high, and that they aren’t printing falsities. And they have systems in place to correct or retract when they get it wrong.
Not every magazine or self-styled news outlet does any of this. Generally, the smaller and more ideological ones do not. That doesn’t make what they publish worthless or unworthy of reading. It does mean you should approach it with a higher level of skepticism, because there are simply fewer safeguards in place. If you don’t see a masthead, for example, that’s an indication that this may be a shop that dispenses with fact checkers and layers of editors who collectively help to keep a publication more honest and accurate. If the magazine has a clear political bent (think: the Nation, the National Review), that doesn’t make it de facto untrustworthy; it is, if anything, an indication of transparency that they are not pretending to be unbiased truth-tellers, and some of the larger ideological publications like The Nation do have fact-checkers and careful editors. But it does mean that you should take that clearly-stated point of view into account, and understand that the magazine in question isn’t trying first and foremost to report fairly and accurately, but is rather seeking to promote a particular ideology and point of view. They very well may do that fairly and accurately (and many ideologically-driven magazines do). But it’s a different agenda.
4. Parsing Opinions
Opinion pages run an even wider gamut between carefully edited and fact-checked on one end, and totally devoid of any responsibility to truth on the other. Some—typically those affiliated with newspapers or serious news outlets—impose strict standards on their opinion pieces. I write a weekly opinion column for CNN, for example, and every single piece I write is edited (often multiple times), fact-checked, and run by both Standards and Legal to ensure the piece meets the company’s standards for accuracy, fairness and legality. This is the case even though these columns are published with the word opinion large and clear. (I do, however, regularly get emails complaining that my CNN columns are biased, which suggests to me that a lot of readers really don’t understand how opinion sections works.)
So how do you decide whose opinions to take on board? I tend to look for a level of expertise, experience and proficiency with the topic at hand. I read and trust Jessica Valenti on abortion rights, for example, even though she isn’t a doctor or a lawyer or an employee at an abortion rights advocacy group, because she’s been writing about abortion for decades and has cultivated deep expertise on the topic.
When it comes to Israel-Palestine, the voices I prioritize are those who have spent their careers reporting on or studying these two places and their relationship; those who are living through the current conflict; those who have expertise in war, post-conflict reconciliation and humanitarian law; and those whose approach signals empathy, humility and curiosity. I also read people whose moral compasses and politics I trust generally. The voices I’m not listening to are those whose simplistic politics (of the anti-American and ant-imperialists sort, or of the pro-Israeli-right sort) lead them to ally with fundamentalists and bigots and authoritarians. I’m not listening to those who deem an entire people expendable or valueless or inherently disordered.
I also challenge myself to read people whose views I don’t agree with, or that I find really challenging. It is so easy to sit in our corners, and to only read and pass along the pieces that confirm our beliefs and make us say yes. That’s good and cathartic and important for movement-building. It’s also really intellectually stunting, especially in the context of a conflict borne of a long and complex history. That doesn’t mean reading the most unhinged extremists on any side. It does mean that there are so many shades of opinion to be found here—seek some out from decent, thoughtful people who see this moment very differently.
Mostly, I hope you’re incisive enough to discern whether someone is a reporter you can trust, an opinion writer you can trust, a writer whose words merit a bit more skepticism or someone who is best ignored. (And “trust,” by the way, doesn’t mean “agree 100 percent with and believe is always correct.”)
If you read someone on Twitter or on their own platform or even on a slick website and they call themselves a journalist, that doesn’t necessarily mean that they are a news reporter, or that they’ve had any formal or informal training, or even that they’re a person who understands the basic obligations of this profession. Anyone can call themselves a reporter on Twitter or Substack; anyone can pick up a cell phone camera and claim to be a citizen journalist. You should ask: Are they transparent about their role in the larger media ecosystem? Who is fact-checking them? Are they affiliated with an institution that has standards for corroboration and verification? If not—if they are, whether they say so or not, an opinion journalist—what sources are they relying on for their opinions and analysis? Are they sharing stories from publications known to carefully verify the facts and correct themselves when wrong, or are they retweeting and linking to anything that confirms their opinions? And just a little tip: Anyone who advertises themselves as someone who is telling you the TRUTH that the mainstream media won’t is probably a narcissistic grifter.
5. What I Trust
I don’t have a definitive list of every single publication that falls on the responsive vs. irresponsible side. Many do responsible reporting most of the time, and sometimes either badly screw up or take baldly ideological positions on some issues and not others. Among trustworthy news sources, though, I would include CNN, The New York Times, The Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, NBC, CBS, AFP, BBC, AP, Haaretz, Le Monde, Der Spiegel, Reuters, and the newspapers of many major American cities (the Seattle PI, The Texas Tribune, the Miami Herald, The Boston Globe, the Los Angeles Times, etc.), among many many many others, most of which are American because I am American. I don’t always agree with every single thing these publications put out, and I think many of them have evinced a particular bias on a range of issues (including, for some of them, the current war). I have taken serious issue with pieces that each of these publications has published. But these are outlets that, to the best of my knowledge, have robust systems in place to prioritize accuracy, fairness and transparency. They are institutionally more reputable and trustworthy than publications that do not have these systems in place, or that are far less transparent about what they seek to do.
On my list of magazines that I know to have diligent fact-checking and high standards: The New Yorker, The Economist, Foreign Affairs, The Atlantic, The New York Times Magazine, Harper’s, and many others. Again, this isn’t to say that every single thing these publications print gets it right. It also isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy more intentionally ideological publications that also have standards in place—I love The American Prospect and the New Statesman, I find The Nation and Mother Jones often very good, and while I virtually never agree with them I sometimes read the National Review, Tablet and The American Spectator. Frankly, I tend to enjoy reading news magazines more than I enjoy reading newspapers, and get more out of long-form reporting and analysis. But it’s important to grasp how these different categories of publications have different aims.
6. Be particularly skeptical of the stories that seem almost too shocking to be true, and the stories that feel like they must be true or must be false.
One of the pitfalls of social media is that, with so much information flying in all directions, it is really really easy to take on information that comports with our prior opinions, and disregard anything that doesn’t. I can’t tell you the number of times that I’ve seen a thinly-sourced, social-media-based story go absolutely viral because one political side or the other finds it outrageous and is absolutely certain that it’s true because it feels like it must be true. It is always worth checking that impulse, especially if the story you’re reading / sharing / believing does not come from an institution with robust procedures to confirm facts.
I touched on this briefly in the op-ed I wrote for The Times about sexual violence on Oct. 7. In the aftermath of Oct. 7, I waited to publicly write or comment on the allegations of sexual violence, because those accusations were extremely charged and, initially, evidence for them trickled in slowly compared to the very obvious evidence of many other atrocities. It felt true to me, as someone who has spent a decade reporting on sexual violence in conflict, that acts of sexual violence would accompany other atrocities and ghastly crimes; it felt vastly unlikely to me that a spree of communal violence that included beheadings, desecration of corpses, and the slaughter of babies and grandparents and that was carried out with sadistic delight, wouldn’t include a single act of sexual violence. But feelings are not facts, and suspicion isn’t truth. And so I waited until more evidence came out.
The opposite is also worth checking: denying that a story could possibly be true because it’s politically inconvenient, or because it violates your deeply-held beliefs, or because you believe that, if true, it may lead to a bad outcome. I see this happening right now with the Oct. 7 sexual violence question: First there was virulent denialism from a handful of loud voices on the left, and then there was a shifting of the goalposts and an argument that, okay, some acts of sexual violence might have happened, but talking about sexual violence or talking about it too much was justifying a war, or feeding into racist stereotypes (no matter that shutting up about it comes with its own vast harms).
Don’t trust people or publications who do this—who seek to downplay or deny inconvenient truths. Notice it when you do it yourself (and I suspect we all do this when we see something and think that can’t be true, or when we see something that makes our hearts sink because we know it’s really bad for something else we care about).
I often think of the Tara Reade sexual assault accusations against Joe Biden as a good example of this, and of both journalistic responsibility and irresponsibility. Those accusations were, for liberals and those who desperately wanted Trump out of office, highly inconvenient. For Biden opponents, they were wonderfully beneficial. For journalists, they were catnip: Breaking the story of a presidential contender who sexually assaulted an employee would be a big get. The accusations did not first appear in any reputable publication with seasoned investigative journalists and fair-minded editors and careful fact-checkers. They bubbled up in much more ideologically-driven circles, and reporters at larger institutions began circling. Laura McGann’s first-person story of how she reported out Reade’s claims, and why, after really wanting to break the story she simply wasn’t able to, is a master class in responsible journalism. McGann does not make the case that Reade lied. She does do the work of a reporter, and tries to determine which of Reade’s claims she can substantiate or corroborate. And she found that there simply wasn’t enough evidence to move forward with a story.
Other seasoned reporters at reputable publications seem to have come to the same conclusion. And on the other hand, many, many highly ideological writers ran with the Reade accusations. The accusations were all over the same right-wing media quick to deny or ignore sexual misconduct allegations against Donald Trump, and in a smattering of far-left media outlets too. And listen, it is entirely possible that Joe Biden sexually assaulted Tara Reade, and that these ideological publications are correct. But what they don’t have is sufficient evidence to back up their assumptions (and, let’s be real, their hopes that it’s true). And therein lies one of many differences between more-trustworthy outlets and less-trustworthy ones.
What I’m Reading and Listening To
When it comes to engaging with media on Israel / Palestine / Gaza / Hamas, I’m constantly thinking of all of the above. When I see something on social media, I pause and consider its reliability before I choose to retweet or share it. I am reading and listening and taking in much, much more than I am sharing.
But I have come across many writers, podcasters and specific stories that I’ve found convincing or interesting or enlightening, even if I don’t agree with everything they have to say. Many friends and readers sent me what they’re reading and listening to after I asked for suggestions on Instagram. And I wanted to share some of that here.
By way of context: I find myself gravitating more to reporting, expertise and those figures who strive to see the humanity in all involved over the highly ideological. I largely tune out and do not at all trust the conservative publications that are at best blasé about and at worst actively hostile to Palestinian life, who push right-wing fundamentalism and who champion a politics of dehumanization, destruction and death. I also largely tune out and do not at all trust the far-left grifters who deny inconvenient violence, who believe any enemy of Israel or the U.S. is their friend, and who are keen to whitewash or even valorize fundamentalist violence. I feel a visceral revulsion toward anyone who believes they know everything about, and have all the solutions to, this conflict, and is quick to cast anyone who disagrees with them as stupid or evil.
That said, I also read and listen to a lot of people with whom I disagree, especially on this topic, because there is so much to learn, and so much good comes out of being challenged. But while I read and listen widely, including to some people whose views I find abhorrent, I try to fold into my own politics those whose words are fundamentally life-affirming, an who resist the urge to dehumanize or insist this is all black and white, while also retaining the ability to clearly say this is wrong. People who can hold many griefs at once, who don’t simply pay lip service to suffering but who are working to understand its causes, and who are desperate to see its end.
Ok, enough throat-clearing. Here are some things I’ve read or listened to that I think are either really good or really interesting or really challenging or simply worth a perusal. Most are about this conflict specifically. Some are about related themes.
Recommended Reading
A Palestinian Poet’s Perilous Journey Out of Gaza in The New Yorker.
Motaz Azaiza’s harrowing and stunning photos from Gaza. (One follower who recommended his work characterized it as “life-affirming,” and I agree).
Ezra Klein’s podcast, which I have found to be a rare voice of humanity, sanity, curiosity and humility from the beginning of this latest violence. It’s worth starting with the first episode Ezra recorded after the Oct. 7 attacks, which is raw and powerful, and I think speaks to the many layered fears that so many Jews around the world felt—as well as the fears so many Liberals and progressives felt about the coming aftermath of that initial horror. He has recorded many episodes since about the current war, and each is very well worth a listen. I particularly appreciated this one about the Jewish left, this interview with Palestinian policy analyst Amjad Iraqi, this interview with Israeli writer Yossi Klein Halevi, this assessment of Hamas with Tareq Baconi and this conversation with Rabbi Sharon Brous which had me crying in my kitchen.
Peter Beinart’s many opinion pieces in The New York Times, as well as his Substack.
The Daily podcast on the international rules of war and humanitarian law, the doctors of Gaza and the humanitarian crisis in Gaza (second half with Hiba Yazbek).
War in Gaza is making childbirth a nightmare, by Louisa Loveluck, Heba Farouk Mahfouz and Hajar Harb in The Washington Post.
The Line Between Gaza and America by Razina Ali in The New Yorker.
The Subversive Act of Photographing Palestinian Life by Adam Rouhana in The New York Times.
One hundred days and all decisions: All of the Palestinian prisoners in Israel for all of the hostages. Will our leaders be willing to pay that awful price? by Gershon Baskin in the Times of Israel blog.
Every Palestinian prisoner for every Israeli hostage: that should be Netanyahu’s next move, by Yossi Melman in the Guardian.
There are no safe places in Gaza, by Adam Rasgon in The New Yorker.
Biden can — and should — press Israel for what comes after this war, by Jo-Ann Mort in the Guardian.
What needs to happen when the fighting stops in Gaza, by Daniel Kurtzer in the Atlantic.
Israel killed my family, but not my hope, by Ahmed Fouad Alkhatib in the Atlantic.
A kidnapped Israeli activist and her two sons, grappling with a war in her name, by Kevin Sieff in The Washington Post.
What did top Israeli war officials really say about Gaza? by Yair Rosenberg in The Atlantic.
The return of the progressive atrocity by Susie Linfield in Quilette.
Is left Zionism possible? by Susie Linfield in Dissent, and a counterargument by Joshua Leifer.
Israel must defeat Hamas – and then get serious about peace, by Jo-Ann Mort and Michael Waltzer in the New Republic.
Anderson Cooper’s interview with Doctors Without Borders nurse Emily Callahan.
Arabs and Israelis: Conflict and peacemaking in the Middle East by Abdel Monem Said Aly, Shai Feldman, and Khalil Shikaki.
A Day in the Life of Abed Salama by Nathan Thrall.
They Said They Wanted Revolution: A Memoir of My Parents by Neda Toloui-Semnani.
The Hundred Years War on Palestine by Rashid Khalidi.
A Tale of Love and Darkness by Amos Oz.
Up next:
