Palestinian journalists in the West Bank face extreme physical danger, psychological trauma, and systemic targeting under Israeli occupation, yet continue to report with resilience, amplifying the voices of their people despite global indifference and media bias.

What does it mean for readers when their voices are deliberately cut off? This content analysis of The Telegraph, a UK-based conservative newspaper known for its pro-establishment stance and alignment with right-leaning narratives, shows it systematically disabled Instagram comments on Israel-Gaza posts, blocking dissent and shaping a one-sided, pro-Israel narrative.

It labelled Al Jazeera journalist Anas Al-Sharif, killed by the occupation, a “terrorist”; denies famine in Gaza; trains its journalists in Israel to promote the Zionist narrative; published forged documents leaked from Netanyahu’s office; and belongs to a media group whose charter affirms “support for Israel’s right to exist”. This is Bild, Germany’s newspaper of incitement against Palestinians, cited by Israel’s president.

With a 200-year history, Urdu newspapers in India are now facing a silent death—trapped in a cycle of decline where circulation has fallen by nearly 25%, advertising is absent, and government support is scarce. What vanishes is more than print: it is the erosion of a cultural and political lifeline that once bound Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs in common debates and carried the voices of the marginalised into India’s public sphere.

Newsrooms, long lauded as bastions of information, are quietly grappling with a mental health crisis, underscoring an urgent need for systemic support, emotional safety, and sustainable practices to protect those telling the world’s stories.

In Kashmir, mounting censorship, political pressure, and shrinking job prospects are forcing a generation of aspiring journalists to abandon the profession, many before they even get the chance to begin, leaving behind a media landscape stripped of dissent, debate, and independent voices.