The Israel-Gaza war has revealed another frontline: the platforms and media houses deciding which words can be used, and which must be silenced. Keep reading.
Wars are fought with weapons, but they’re also fought with words. The way famine is described, a killing is framed, or a slogan is filtered can shift how entire populations perceive a conflict. In Gaza, this battle over language and narratives has become just as contested as the physical war itself.
Tech companies, media outlets, and social platforms all play a part in shaping what audiences see – and, more importantly, what they don’t. Editorial policies, paid ad campaigns, moderation systems, and cautious reporting practices reveal how power over words translates into power over public understanding.
Google’s $45 Million Deal
Perhaps the most striking case came when Drop Site News revealed Google had entered a six-month, $45 million contract with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s office. The deal, managed through Israel’s government advertising agency Lapam, explicitly described Google as a “key entity” in supporting state messaging.
The campaign began in March, just after Israel blocked humanitarian supplies from entering Gaza. Almost immediately, YouTube and Google’s ad network started running videos declaring “there is food in Gaza. Any other claim is a lie.” The clips reached millions of views, mostly boosted by paid promotion. Yet at the same time, the U.N. and aid groups confirmed that famine conditions were widespread, with August alone recording nearly 200 starvation-related deaths. Tens of thousands of children and women were reported malnourished.
This wasn’t Google’s first brush with controversy. Wired had already traced earlier Israeli ad campaigns on Google that attempted to discredit the U.N. and Gaza’s health authorities, accusing them of sabotaging aid. Ads also promoted the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation, a body criticized as a U.S.-backed attempt to sideline the U.N.’s humanitarian role. For critics, these campaigns show how commercial platforms become part of a broader propaganda machine when government money flows in.
The BBC’s Careful Words
The BBC has long presented itself as the gold standard for impartiality. Yet its language around Israel and Gaza has repeatedly come under fire. Editorial guidelines forbid the use of ‘terrorist’ unless directly attributed to a source, pushing reporters to use alternatives like ‘militant or gunman.’ Critics argue that this unevenly humanizes one side: Israeli deaths are described with words such as “massacre” or “slaughter,” while Palestinian deaths are couched in passive terms like ‘died’ or ‘were killed.’
Beyond vocabulary, there are questions about what stories are told at all. Earlier this year, the BBC pulled out from broadcasting Gaza: Doctors Under Attack, a documentary spotlighting medical workers under siege in the enclave. The film was later picked up by the streaming platform Zeto, raising concerns that the BBC was avoiding difficult truths for fear of political backlash. Inside the newsroom, even staff members have accused the broadcaster of downplaying crucial context, rarely using terms like ‘occupation’ or ‘apartheid,’ which human rights organizations consider central to understanding the situation.
The New York Times’ Red Lines
Across the Atlantic, The New York Times has faced similar scrutiny. Internal guidance reportedly told journalists to avoid using terms like ‘genocide’ and ‘ethnic cleansing’ when writing about Gaza. The justification was that these terms carried legal weight and risked appearing biased. But to critics, this was less about accuracy and more about shielding readers from uncomfortable realities.
The issue came to a head when the paper rejected paid advertisements from advocacy groups because they included the word ‘genocide.’ Instead, the Times suggested softer alternatives like ‘war.’ For human rights groups, this crossed a line – not only reporting cautiously but actively preventing certain language from appearing, even in paid space. Only recently did the Times feature an op-ed by a genocide scholar explicitly mentioning ‘genocide.’ To some, this shift shows the slow breaking of editorial taboos, but it also highlights how fiercely guarded the boundaries of language remain.
Meta’s Moderation Battles
Meta, the parent company of Facebook and Instagram, became another flashpoint. Human Rights Watch documented more than a thousand cases of Palestinian content being restricted or removed during the conflict’s early months. Posts mentioning the word ‘Zionist’ were often flagged under hate speech rules, even when used in political debate. Entire news accounts – like Quds News Network and Eye on Palestine – were taken down or shadow-banned, cutting off major streams of on-the-ground reporting.
Even symbols became contested. The watermelon, long associated with Palestinian identity, was deemed too political for Meta’s internal employee events, where themed cupcakes were blocked from being served. And the widely used slogan ‘From the river to the sea’ was initially taken down, until Meta’s Oversight Board ruled that it should not face blanket removal because the phrase holds multiple meanings. In response, many users found creative workarounds. Emojis, symbols, and coded language became their tools. A watermelon emoji, an olive, or even a star could stand in for censored words – turning digital shorthand into an act of resistance.
Why It Matters
When words are filtered, softened, or erased, the story of a conflict changes. Labeling famine as ‘food shortages’ or genocide as ‘conflict’ doesn’t just water down reality – it rewrites it. Tech platforms and media outlets often justify these choices as impartiality, moderation, or legal caution. But the impact is the same: entire narratives are shaped, entire experiences sidelined.
The battle for Gaza isn’t only happening on the ground. It plays out in search engines, newsroom style guides, and social media dashboards. And for ordinary people trying to share their realities, sometimes an emoji carries the weight of all the words that can no longer be said.
Sources: TRT Global, Turkiye Today, The Guardian, Anadolu Ajansi, The New Arab
Killing the Messenger: How Israel is Waging War on Journalism
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