Some people call it the 'Al Jazeera spirit' - courage

“Some people call it the ‘Al Jazeera spirit’ — courage, re-thinking authority, giving a voice to the voiceless. We have never been favored by the authority. The human being is the center of our editorial policy. We are not a TV station that rushes after stars, big names, press conferences, hand-shake journalism.” — Wadah Khanfar

In these powerful words, Wadah Khanfar, the former director general of Al Jazeera, gives voice to a philosophy that transcends journalism — a philosophy of truth, humanity, and moral courage. His words reflect the origin of Al Jazeera, born in the deserts of Qatar but destined to echo across the world, defying censorship and confronting injustice. When he speaks of the “Al Jazeera spirit,” he speaks of a movement — one that values the cry of the oppressed more than the comfort of the powerful, one that measures success not by popularity, but by the clarity with which it speaks truth.

At the heart of Khanfar’s message is the sacred duty of courage — the courage to rethink authority, to question the narratives imposed by governments and elites, and to listen instead to the common man, the unheard woman, the child whose tears the world ignores. In an age when much of journalism bows before power, when cameras seek fame and microphones flatter the mighty, Al Jazeera dared to turn its lens toward the forgotten corners of humanity. This is what Khanfar means by giving “a voice to the voiceless.” It is not a slogan, but a calling — a return to the primal essence of storytelling, where the reporter becomes a bridge between suffering and understanding.

To understand the origin of this spirit, we must recall the late twentieth century, when Al Jazeera emerged amid the silence of state-controlled media in the Arab world. At that time, truth was a prisoner — tightly held by regimes that feared the power of speech. But Al Jazeera shattered that silence. It dared to show the pain of Palestine, the wars of Iraq, the revolutions of Egypt, and the anguish of Syria. It exposed what others hid. And though it was condemned by rulers and banned by authorities, it was embraced by the people. Thus was born the Al Jazeera spirit — not of defiance for defiance’s sake, but of devotion to the dignity of human truth.

Khanfar’s words also reject the vanity of what he calls “hand-shake journalism.” He denounces the shallow pursuit of fame, where the journalist becomes a celebrity and the story becomes a stage. True journalism, he teaches, does not “rush after stars or big names”; it kneels beside the ordinary person and listens. It is humble, not glamorous; fierce, not fashionable. The human being — not the politician or the actor — is the center of the story. In this, Khanfar speaks like a philosopher of conscience, reminding us that storytelling is not about shining a light upon oneself, but about shining it into the world’s darkest places.

This spirit recalls the example of Ida B. Wells, the 19th-century journalist who exposed the horrors of racial lynching in America. Like Khanfar’s Al Jazeera, she was never favored by authority; she faced death threats, exile, and ruin. Yet she persisted, because she understood that to remain silent in the face of suffering is to be complicit in it. The courage to tell the truth — no matter the cost — is the bond that unites all who live by this sacred calling, from Wells in the West to Khanfar in the Middle East. It is the courage of those who put principle above comfort, justice above safety.

From Khanfar’s vision, we draw a profound lesson: that freedom is not preserved by neutrality, but by moral clarity. To stand with the voiceless is to take a side — the side of humanity. And though this may bring criticism, bans, or even danger, it is the only path that keeps the soul uncorrupted. The journalist, the teacher, the artist, and every person who dares to speak truth must remember that their duty is not to please the powerful, but to serve the truth.

So let this wisdom be carried forward: Speak for those who cannot. Question what others accept. See the human before the headline. Whether you hold a pen, a camera, or simply a conscience, you carry within you the same sacred flame that Khanfar called the Al Jazeera spirit. Protect it. For as long as there are voices willing to speak for the voiceless, truth will never be extinguished — and freedom, though bruised, will always rise again.