As an Arab journalist, let me tell you exactly why Al Jazeera's existence is so important

It's no secret that journalism is a difficult career in the Arabic world – but Al Jazeera changed things, and if it folds now, we could see the whole of the Middle East go backwards

The newsroom at the headquarters of the Qatar-based Al-Jazeera satellite channel in Doha (AFP/Getty)

When it launched in 1996, the label "Al Jazeera" meant nothing more than a little new player in the Gulf media market to the local Lebanese journalist I was at that time. However, the network rapidly became breath of fresh air: Arab voices reporting on Arab crises? It was unprecedented.

Also unprecedented were the “undisciplined” and “disrespectful” tones and content adopted by the TV channel when it came to reporting on the “untouchable”: the strict red lines journalists in the region had had to previously abide by. In most Arab countries, the list of matters journalists are required to “respect”, as dictated by various legislations, is practically unlimited: heads of the state, national interests and security, diplomatic relations, cultural and historical values and religious values, along with many, many others.

The list is as long as it is vague in its wording and scope, allowing its misuse to quell critical voices. Dissent is not something autocratic leaders want to hear, and they have developed sufficient means to deter any attempts to express it.

Journalists of the state-owned media could not conceive of a role for themselves beyond regimes’ guards. By a large majority, they were not making any serious attempt to break with the uniform and censored narratives they were required to disseminate daily on behalf of the government.

As the former editor in chief of the state-owned Egyptian newspaper al-Ahram Osama Saraya told me when I met him in a coffee shop in Cairo, “the main function of state media was to embellish the face of the regime, not to monitor it. It was impossible to imagine another role for it.”

The introduction of privately owned media could not genuinely defy this model; bound by partisanship and business interests to regimes, these new ventures pushed the ceiling of the “allowed” depending on the degree of tolerance or rigidity of regimes, but they never pushed beyond the established taboos that remained sacred (I listed some of these above).

Journalists learned to enjoy the margin of manoeuvre allowed by the private sector’s narrow window of dissent and to work within this space. This space opens and closes depending on regimes’ tactics to assert legitimacy in the face of public crises, and the international criticism of their human rights record when these crises occur.

Yet this sector rapidly became a new, more efficient tool in polishing the public image of autocratic regimes by allowing a narrowly controlled space to vent frustration.

Autocratic leaders could finally praise their own so-called openness and goodwill by claiming they were being held accountable by their own media. However, taking this narrow window as a genuine attempt to open up media narratives to dissent amounts to gambling.

The former editor-in-chief of the critical Moroccan magazine Tel Quel, Abdallah al Turabi, told me about the many risks that come with embracing the regime’s game of sporadically opening and closing the narrow window of tolerated dissent, including the sharing of information considered sensitive: “There is definitely more information in the press today about the palace. But it all depends on the decision to open or to close this window. The day they decide they want to go after a journalist or a media institution, they will not be short of means to do so.”

Caution remains the golden rule. Journalists must know when to show their cards and when to fold.

The Al Jazeera pan-Arab network found its raison d’être by spearheading a new model of “disrespectful” reporting, braving taboos by opening the airwaves to dissent. But this model did not really break with that of private news providers flirting with the ceiling of the “allowed” when it comes to reporting on Qatari policies.

It is fair to say that the network extended this space tremendously, although they did not truly rebel against the strict red lines drawn by their funders. Bold, independent journalism was introduced as a value in the newsroom culture, but it has to co-exist with a clear editorial line, mainly expressed through emotionally driven narratives carrying within them factual information and extensive field coverage. The public needs emotions to swallow information.

The extensive coverage by the network of the Arab uprisings provided these movements with a regional and international visibility. While the role of social media in empowering these movements was praised as crucial, it is difficult to imagine the success of these protest movements without the extensive and positive coverage by pan-Arab satellite channels, led by Al Jazeera.

However, the quest for independent and bold reporting on the Arab world is growing more and more challenging, with the growing link between Al Jazeera and the diplomatic agenda and interests of the Qatari ruling family.

For instance, reports in late 2007 alleged a deal had been struck to narrow the scope of criticism by the network when tackling Saudi affairs, as part of a rapprochement between the two Gulf regimes in the face of Iran's growing influence in the region.

According to the New York Times, the deal included not airing radical dissenting voices against the Saudi regime. The shifting perception of the network – from an independent news broker championing dissent to a powerful diplomatic platform for expanding Qatari role in the region post-uprisings – contributed to a growing mistrust within the public.

The extensive friendly coverage by Al Jazeera of mainstream political Islam parties – Ennahda in Tunisia and the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt – exacerbated this mistrust; the channel is perceived more and more as a full political player in shaping the outcomes of these uprisings. The demise of the Brotherhood in Egypt, accompanied as it was by unprecedented repression of the group, did not serve the channel’s editorial prerogative of providing a platform for the oppressed. Yet the sympathy expressed by Al Jazeera towards the group was also perceived as a political move.

It is not an exaggeration to say that the region is currently witnessing one of its darkest phases of repression against freedom of expression and civil liberties in general. Recently, the United Arab Emirates has banned expressions of sympathy towards Qatar to the extent of threatening potential offenders with a jail term of up to 15 years.

Pressure against independent journalism is widespread. To provide just one particularly egregious example, the Egyptian government has recently blocked access to at least 21 critical news sites including Al Jazeera, Al-Araby Al-Jadeed (The New Arab), HuffPost Arabi (the Arabic language site of The Huffington Post) and the independent Egyptian news site Mada Masr, one of very few that still provide critical coverage of the aftermath of the coup amid a tough clampdown on all forms of dissent. Reporters Without Borders labelled Egypt one of the biggest prison-states for journalists, with a record number of journalists behind bars, estimated between 26 (according to international organizations) to around 60 (according to local NGOs, including media staff).

The window on Arab media platforms is narrower than ever. It is crucial that critical voices continue to find a platform on Al Jazeera, but also through other spaces of contention in Arab traditional and social media.

It is equally crucial for Al Jazeera, amid this crisis, to question its style, narratives, and especially the collusion between its conflicting professional and ideological identities. The survival of the once-cherished channel as a champion of audacity in face of obedience is paramount – and has further-reaching consequences beyond the struggle of the channel’s funders with their powerful neighbors.

Fatima el Issawi is a senior lecturer in journalism at the University of Essex