An article by Moroccan journalist Hanan Hart

As a Moroccan journalist, I follow what is happening today in Syria, as well as in Gaza, Sudan, Iraq, and Yemen, with an awareness that goes beyond breaking news and fleeting images.

What is unfolding in these geographies burdened by conflict cannot be reduced to casualty numbers or maps of territorial control. At its core, it is a daily test of the meaning of humanity—and of our responsibility as journalists, men and women alike, in an era of open-ended violations.

In the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria, recent developments have once again brought familiar scenes to the forefront: security escalation, forced displacement, and the absence of safety, with women and girls finding themselves once more confronting fear and the erosion of protection mechanisms.

This reality is not limited to Syria, Yemen, Iraq, Gaza, or Sudan alone. It extends to other parts of the Middle East such as Libya and Lebanon, Afghanistan, and even some border regions in Turkey and Iran.

At the heart of these scenes, women and girls repeatedly find themselves facing fear, insecurity, and the collapse of protection networks. The effects of conflict permeate the details of daily life, and suffering becomes particularly concentrated on women—as seen in besieged Gaza, war-torn Sudan, Iraq still struggling to emerge from accumulated violence, and Yemen, where war continues to dismantle society and deepen women’s suffering.

Across all these contexts, women bear a double burden: protecting their families, surviving day to day, and confronting violations in the absence of genuine accountability.

From our position as journalists, we cannot settle for the role of cold, detached conveyors of events. Journalism is not merely a profession for transmitting facts; it is also an ethical stance. When we choose to shed light on the suffering of women in conflict zones, we are not seeking sensationalism, nor are we “feminizing” suffering. Rather, we are restoring the human being to the center of the story. And when we document violations against women, we are fulfilling one of journalism’s core roles: breaking silence and resisting the normalization of violence.

Experience has taught us that women and girls are the most affected by conflicts and the rise of extremism, yet their voices are often excluded from dominant narratives. It is precisely here that feminist and rights-based journalism plays a crucial role—restoring visibility to marginalized voices and linking the local to the universal, without selectivity or crude politicization.

As a journalist from Morocco—a country that itself experienced periods of grave human rights violations in the past, and later entered a difficult path of acknowledgment and public debate around memory and justice—I believe that solidarity is not an emotional slogan, but a conscious and responsible practice.

This process, with all its limitations and shortcomings, taught us that ignoring pain does not make it disappear, and that protecting rights begins with recognition and with giving voice to victims—especially women in contexts of violence and conflict.

Solidarity means seeing the suffering of Syrian women as an extension of the suffering of women in Gaza, Sudan, Iraq, and Yemen, and understanding that impunity in one place opens the door to new violations elsewhere.

Journalism, in this context, is not neutral between victim and perpetrator. Its true neutrality lies in siding with universal values: the right to life, dignity, and safety. When we hesitate to defend these values, or settle for silent observation, we contribute to prolonging violence.

Cross-border solidarity among journalists—especially in conflict zones—is no longer a professional luxury; it is an ethical necessity. When a journalist from a war zone communicates with another outside it, this is not merely an exchange of information, but an act of resistance against isolation and against attempts to silence the truth.

Our message today is clear: protecting women’s rights in conflict zones is not a local issue, but a collective responsibility. Telling the truth, whatever its cost, is one form of defending human existence itself.

From North and East Syria to Gaza, and from Sudan to Iraq, truth remains the first line of defense, and journalism—when it stays true to its values—remains an act of solidarity that does not expire with time.