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Iran Exposed the Myth of Independent Journalistic Access
Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei speaks during a meeting in Tehran, Iran, Jan. 17, 2026. Photo: Office of the Iranian Supreme Leader/WANA (West Asia News Agency)/Handout via REUTERS
In October 2025, an opinion piece published in Iran International cited a telling remark by British broadcaster Jon Snow about his reporting from Tehran. When asked how his network, Channel 4, managed to secure access to Iranian officials, he said simply, “They whistle, and we go.”
That seemingly innocuous line was jumped on by journalists and critics because it revealed something about the way Western media covers authoritarian states like Iran. It was a rare moment of honesty but also representative of a deeper issue in Western journalism and a reminder that when dealing with tyrants, access is not the same thing as truth.
Access as Control: How Authoritarian Power Shapes Reporting
Snow’s comment should make anyone who cares about reporting from conflict zones or closed societies sit up and take note. The problem is not just that some correspondents end up parroting the messaging of the regimes they cover. The bigger problem is that the structure of modern foreign reporting rewards access above all else. If you have a visa, if you have a fixer approved by the intelligence services, if the state can decide where you go and who you interview, then you are in. If you challenge the narrative you are shown, you risk losing that access. The idea is simple: stay onside with power and you stay in the country; challenge power and you are out. This is a kind of press freedom in name only.
This dynamic is not unique to Iran, though the Iranian case makes the point with shocking clarity. To report from Iran, Western journalists must operate under state supervision. Their fixers are often regime-approved minders who decide which families they can meet, which streets they can visit, and what stories they can tell. The price of defiance is expulsion. Most choose to stay, and so they comply. The result is journalism that reports through the regime’s lens. In this case, the coverage mirrors Tehran’s narrative while ignoring its contradictions or its crimes.
The Iran International article highlighted how this kind of reporting perpetuates the illusion that “moderates” or “reformists” within the clerical regime are always on the brink of pursuing a more friendly policy toward the West, if only Washington and its partners would be more conciliatory.
But they are the only ones able to meet with foreign press, for a reason.
It must be acknowledged how easy it is, due to simple language barriers, for a regime like Iran to tell the West one thing, through these hyper-managed interviews, and to tell their allies or their own people something entirely different. In Iran, a younger, connected, defiant secular generation is fighting for their lives against a religious dictatorship.
Stories about women walking unveiled in defiance of the compulsory hijab law are rarely told with the depth and persistence they deserve, even though they represent one of the most sustained grassroots challenges to the Islamic Republic.
When Gatekeepers Become Storytellers
This tension between access and truth is not a quirk of reporting on Iran. It applies across many of the most important conflict zones of our time.
Look at how journalists cover the Palestinian territories. To report from the West Bank or Gaza, you need permission from the Palestinian Authority, Hamas, or the relevant security forces. If you want to talk to armed groups such as Hamas or Islamic Jihad, you must do so through intermediaries, and translators, and with the blessing of those groups.
The consequence is that journalists become dependent on these authorities to open doors for them. That dependency shapes the story. The authorities are the gatekeepers and the journalists end up telling the story they want told rather than the story that needs to be heard.
The same dynamic is evident in southern Lebanon.
In 2006, Nic Robertson of CNN spoke about his experience covering the conflict in Lebanon and how Hezbollah “had control of the situation.” That level of control creates an environment where reporters must negotiate and constantly accommodate the group’s conditions for reporting, if they want to stay in the country and file their stories. That negotiation inevitably affects the substance of the reporting. Some stories that might make those groups uncomfortable never get told. The result is a version of events curated by those terrorists themselves.
When a regime-backed organization can quietly move money, people, and logistics through cartel routes, the southern border stops being a political debate and becomes a national security vulnerability.
The Iranian regime’s threat to the U.S. doesn’t just rely on missiles. It… pic.twitter.com/kHU8OwX76Q
— HonestReporting (@HonestReporting) January 16, 2026
The Cost of Choosing Access Over Truth
And that brings us to the central problem. Journalists who operate under these conditions face a stark choice: they can stay close to power and preserve access, or they can push harder for truth and risk being shut out. Many choose to stay. That choice is understandable on a personal level. Journalists want to be where the action is. They want to file video and cables from the front lines. They want their editors to see them as intrepid and essential. But when access is the primary measure of success, it distorts what journalism is supposed to do. Journalism is supposed to challenge power, not accommodate it. It is supposed to expose abuses and amplify voices that might otherwise go unheard. But when access is controlled by those in power, journalism can become an unintentional arm of propaganda.
This dynamic matters beyond public opinion, but also politically, as leaders in Western capitals still rely on the press to gauge what is happening inside these societies. When the media misreads a country, so do the governments that read the media. Western policy on Iran for decades has been shaped by reporting that overemphasized factionalism and the potential for internal reform, even as the reality on the ground showed a population oppressed by the clerical establishment. That disconnect between media portrayal and lived reality has consequences for diplomacy and strategy.
Some journalists have tried to break free from this dynamic. But journalists who take that approach often find it difficult to return. They may be denied visas or locked out of future assignments. That is part of the price of choosing truth over access.
This issue does not mean that journalists should never go to places like Iran, Gaza, the West Bank, or southern Lebanon. On the contrary, those places deserve reporting. But it does mean rethinking how that reporting is done and how it is viewed and understood. Journalists must be willing to acknowledge the limitations of access, to report on what they are not shown, and to seek out voices beyond those sanctioned by power. We need journalism that recognizes the structural pressures that shape reporting and ultimately pushes back against them.
If and when journalists do eventually get deeper access to places like Gaza, they will face the same issues. Access will be contingent. Permission will be dependent on staying within certain lines. Journalists will need to think clearly about the ethical and professional implications of those conditions. Should they accept them in order to be able to say that they were there? Or should they insist on the freedom to report what they see and hear without being steered by those who have an interest in shaping the narrative? That is a question every correspondent must answer for themselves.
Ultimately, the lesson of Jon Snow’s offhand comment about reporting in Iran should not be boiled down to a joke or a sound bite. It should be a warning. Journalism that prioritizes access over truth fails its audience. It confuses permission for credibility. It allows power to define the terms of reporting instead of letting reality speak for itself. If we want journalism that truly informs and challenges the powerful, then we need to demand more of the reporters in the field and more of the editors who send them there. We need journalism that listens to the streets and not just to those pulling the strings.
Founder of the modern Jewish Pride movement, Ben M. Freeman is the author of Jewish Pride: Rebuilding a People (2021), Reclaiming our Story: The Pursuit of Jewish Pride (2022), and The Jews: An Indigenous People (2025). Educating, inspiring and empowering, his work focuses on Jewish identity and historical and contemporary Jew-hatred. A Holocaust scholar for over 15 years, Ben came to prominence during the Corbyn Labour Jew-hate crisis in the UK and quickly became one of his generation’s leading Jewish thinkers and voices against Jew-hate.
This article was originally published by HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.
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A Jewish farmer broke ground on a synagogue in an Illinois cornfield. His neighbors showed up to help.
STERLING, ILLINOIS — On Wednesday, Nik Jakobs was planting corn. On Thursday, the 41-year-old Illinois cattle farmer stood in a two-acre cornfield preparing to plant something else: a synagogue.
Around 75 people gathered on the edge of the field this week in Sterling, Illinois, a two-hour drive west of Chicago, where Jakobs and his family broke ground on a new home for Temple Sholom, the small congregation that has anchored Jewish life here for more than a century, and where his family has prayed since the 1950s.
The planned 4,000-square-foot building will also house a Holocaust museum inspired by the story of Jakobs’ grandparents, Edith and Norbert, who survived the war after Christian families in the Netherlands hid them in their homes for years. Jakobs described the future museum as a place devoted not only to Jewish history, but to teaching the dangers of hatred and division. “If you have the choice to be right or kind,” he said, repeating advice from his grandmother, “choose kind.”
A 60-foot blue ribbon — chosen by Jakobs’ wife, Katie, to match the color of the Israeli flag — stretched across the future building site. His four daughters held it alongside his parents, brothers and friends. Then Jakobs lifted oversized gold scissors and cut the ribbon as pastors, farmers, city officials and members of neighboring churches applauded.
I’m writing a book about a young Jewish farmer who is building a synagogue in a two-acre cornfield in rural Illinois using sacred objects (ark, Torah, stained glass windows) donated by closing congregations across America. Today, they held the groundbreaking. 🧑🌾 🌽🕍 pic.twitter.com/90TynBMWHC
— Benyamin Cohen (@benyamincohen) May 8, 2026
The synagogue rising from this Illinois cornfield will house pieces of the past.
A nearby storage area holds Jewish objects Jakobs rescued from shuttered synagogues across the country: stained-glass windows, Torah arks, rabbi’s chairs, memorial plaques and wooden tablets engraved with the tribes of Israel. Many came from Temple B’nai Israel, a 113-year-old synagogue that closed down in 2025. It served generations of Jews in McKeesport, Pennsylvania, now a ghost town since the steel mills closed. Its remaining congregants donated sacred objects to Jakobs so their story could live on rather than disappear.
The day before the groundbreaking, the Jakobs family began opening some of the crates for the first time since they were packed away nearly a year ago. Nik’s father, Dave Jakobs, pried open one box with a hammer and crowbar while Nik loosened screws with an electric drill, the family gathered around like archaeologists opening a tomb.
Inside was a stained-glass window with images of a tallit and shofar bursting in jewel tones of blue, yellow and red. Jakobs’ mother, Margo, lifted Annie, the youngest of Nik’s daughters, so the 4-year-old could peer inside. The bright red glass matched the bow in her hair.
Nearby sat the massive wooden ark salvaged from Pennsylvania, topped with twin Lions of Judah whose carved paws once overlooked generations of worshippers.
Faith on the farmland
Temple Sholom — founded in 1910 — was once the center of Jewish life in Sterling, a town of 14,500 surrounded by flat farmland and tall grain silos. Its Jewish community once included a pharmacist, the manager of Kline’s department store and the owner of a local McDonald’s franchise.
Over time, membership dwindled. The roof sagged. The pews emptied.
Last year, the congregation sold its aging building and relocated High Holiday services to a tent on the Jakobs’ farm, where prayers mingled with the smell of manure and cattle lowing nearby.
At a moment when many small-town synagogues are closing, Temple Sholom is doing something increasingly rare: building a bigger new sanctuary from scratch. The synagogue will sit prominently along one of Sterling’s main roads — a highly visible expression of Jewish life in a region where Jews are few.
Thursday’s groundbreaking took place on the National Day of Prayer, the annual observance formalized under President Ronald Reagan, who grew up a few miles away in Dixon, Illinois. Earlier that morning, attendees gathered inside New Life Lutheran Church for a breakfast sponsored by Temple Sholom.
“I was so happy to see bagels, lox and cream cheese,” said Rev. James Keenan, a Catholic priest originally from Brooklyn. “It reminded me of home.”
Inside the church sanctuary, a large wooden cross glowed amber and blue above the dais while two giant screens displayed the National Day of Prayer logo. Jakobs, wearing cowboy boots, jeans and a powder-blue blazer, addressed the crowd.
“Tolerance is not weakness,” he said. “It is strength.”
The new synagogue will sit beside New Life Lutheran Church on land sold to Temple Sholom by farmer Dan Koster, 71, who has known the Jakobs family for three generations.
“We need more religious presence in the community,” Koster said.
For Drew Williams, New Life’s 38-year-old lead pastor, the synagogue and museum represent more than neighboring buildings. His church already hosts food-packing drives, summer meal programs and community events. He imagines future partnerships with Temple Sholom.
“I don’t think there’s any community that is immune to hate,” Williams said. “That just means it’s on us” to be on the other side “spreading peace.”
Sterling Mayor Diana Merdian, who is 41 and grew up in town with Jakobs, said the project reflects a broader desire among younger generations to preserve local history and identity. “If we don’t carry those stories, we lose them,” she said. “Once you lose that, you can’t get it back.”
During the ceremony in the cornfield, Temple Sholom’s longtime cantor, Lori Schwaber, asked those gathered to remember the congregation’s founding members and recite the Mourner’s Kaddish together. Jews and Christians stood side by side in the prairie wind as Hebrew prayers drifted across the open farmland.
Lester Weinstine, a 90-year-old congregant who was the first bar mitzvah at Temple Sholom when the shul was still housed out of a Pepsi bottling plant, looked out across the field in disbelief. “I never thought I would see this,” he said.
For Jakobs, the synagogue project has become inseparable from the lessons his grandparents’ survival taught him. “You sometimes feel on an island as a Jew, especially in rural America,” he said. “But this community — that’s not what I’ve experienced here.”
If construction stays on schedule, the synagogue will open in fall 2027. Its first major service will not be a dedication ceremony, but the bat mitzvah of Jakobs’ oldest daughter, Taylor.
Members of the Pennsylvania congregation are planning a bus trip to Illinois for the occasion, after donating many of their sacred objects to help build Jakob’s synagogue. Their former rabbi has offered to officiate.
“If a farmer can build a synagogue in a cornfield,” Jakobs said, “anybody can do it anywhere.”
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Is this Apple TV thriller hasbara — or societal critique?
AppleTV+’s new thriller Unconditional has the trappings of so much streaming content.
A young woman disappears into hostile territory. Her mother, already juggling a family health crisis, does her own sleuthing to get her daughter back. People die, twisty alliances emerge. It’s all part of the suspense boiler plate, and it sizzles just enough to keep your interest. What makes the show, airing May 8, different from every other show is the early response.
Sight almost entirely unseen, the internet was in an uproar. The show is Israeli, and the announcement trailer showed the character Gali (Ronn Talia Lynne) in her IDF uniform. Pro-Palestine accounts were quick to shout “hasbara” or “overt ziopropaganda” for a show whose premise is ostensibly a sympathetic story of an Israeli taken prisoner by the evil, Putin-era Russian state. (The trailer makes no mention of Palestinians or a war in Gaza. The show doesn’t either.)
The online response alone proves the challenging optics for anything Israeli, but the show actually has quite a bit to say about the Jewish state’s propaganda apparatus — within the country and without.
On a layover in the Moscow Airport, Gali and her mother, Orna (Liraz Chamami), are taken in for questioning. Security claims to have found drugs in Gali’s backpack — an echo of the Naama Issacher affair from 2019 — and she’s summarily sentenced to seven years in a Russian jail.
Orna returns to Israel and hires a PR handler to plead Gali’s case. Together they curate a specific image to sell to the state media.
Gali is a “happy, good-hearted girl. She served in the army, like everyone” and even extended her service, Orna says in radio and television interviews. The file photo for news segments is exactly what so many outside of Israel would object to: Gali in uniform. In Israel it tugs heart strings. Abroad, it makes the abductee a war criminal who had it coming.
It’s probably not giving much away, given that the hands behind this show are the creators of Hatufim, which became a hit in the U.S. as the antihero-forward War on Terror commentary Homeland, that Gali is not a perfect victim. This is a strange sort of hasbara, if one Israel often produces, the kind that’s peopled by problematic characters operating in the society’s gray zones. (See streaming hit Fauda, following a morally-dubious undercover unit made up of trigger-happy adulterers exploiting their Palestinian contacts.)
What’s surprising, given the premise, is how much time the show spends not in Russia or Israel, but in India, where Gali and Orna were touring before their fateful missed connection in Moscow. It’s here we’re given entree into the Ugly Israeli abroad, a stereotype that is growing increasingly common thanks to reports of poor behavior — stealing money from temples, creating chaos in hospitals and restaurants — in the global East. (On the flip side, many Israelis, like a couple at a noodle shop in Vietnam, are being harassed by other tourists for no reason other than their country of origin and some feel the need to hide their identity while traveling.)
Gali sings the praises of an Indian gastropub that will give you dysentery. “We are so lucky because for the last three months the kitchen has been condemned by the health department,” she smirks. “But yesterday some truck driver hit a wild boar, so they gave them an exemption. So it won’t be a waste.”
In a later episode, one of Gali’s companions wisecrack about the pestilential heat and jibe that prisons in India are particularly atrocious. (This must ring alarm bells for those aware of Israel’s carceral system for Palestinians.)
Russia is equally backward. Unlike in Israel, “not everyone here is happy to work with a woman,” a Russian arms dealer weighs in. If you didn’t get it, these countries are backward. Israel has its problems, but at least it has women in power!
Watching, I was reminded of social media posts by Indians complaining about racism and drug use from IDF veterans on the so-called “Hummus trail.” One post by AJ+ said the soldiers come there to “detox” from “carrying out a genocide in Gaza.”
Unconditional is under no illusions that Israelis can be a disruptive presence. If anything, it pushes the concept to new places. These Sabras ruin mindfulness workshops and start shoot-outs in hotel lobbies. It’s not great for the brand.
But then again, we live in a climate where simply acknowledging the existence of Israelis — as seen in a recent ballyhoo surrounding author R.F. Kuang — can prove controversial or politically-loaded, no matter how neutral the depiction.
Why Apple would give their imprimatur to an Israeli project today, when public opinion of the Jewish state has fallen off a demographic cliff, is a valid question likely explained by the positive reception of another Israeli import on the streamer, the show Tehran, about an IDF hacker stuck in Iran. From within the silos it’s hard to tell if audiences will cancel their subscriptions, as some have threatened.
Maybe, like Gali’s uniform, the show is a Rorschach. BDS types may boycott, yet the show seems to echo many of their talking points about Israel’s overzealous campaign in Gaza after Oct. 7 — at least by way of metaphor.
In a late episode, Orna tells her government companion Rita (Evgenia Dodina) about a time a classmate broke Gali’s arm, and the teacher excused his actions because his mother was in the hospital.
“You’re exactly like the teacher,” Rita tells Orna. “You give me a thousand excuses for Gali. ‘It’s because of me. It’s not her fault. Poor thing.’ It doesn’t matter she didn’t understand what she was getting into, and it doesn’t matter she didn’t mean to.”
Orna says it’s different with Gali — because it’s her daughter. One can overlook a lot when it’s your family, or, for that matter, your country.
The post Is this Apple TV thriller hasbara — or societal critique? appeared first on The Forward.
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Israeli man indicted in attack on Catholic nun in Jerusalem’s Old City
(JTA) — An Israeli man was indicted on Thursday in connection to the violent assault of a Catholic nun in Jerusalem last month, after prosecutors said he targeted her over her Christian identity.
Yona Schreiber, 36, from the West Bank settlement of Peduel, was arrested last week and has since been indicted on charges of “assault causing actual injury motivated by hostility toward the public on the grounds of religion, as well as simple assault,” the state attorney’s office said in a statement.
According to the indictment, Schreiber, who is Jewish, attacked the nun just outside of the Old City in Jerusalem because he identified her as a Catholic nun. Schreiber allegedly pushed and then kicked the nun as she was lying on the ground and also attacked a passerby who attempted to intervene.
תקיפת הנזירה אתמול באזור קבר דוד בירושלים – שוטרי מרחב דוד איתרו את החשוד (36) ועצרו אותו בחשד לתקיפה ממניע גזעני >>> pic.twitter.com/agRpznR84X
— משטרת ישראל (@IL_police) April 30, 2026
The nun, a researcher at the French School of Biblical and Archeological Research, suffered bruises on her face and leg due to the attack, the state attorney’s office said.
The attack, which drew condemnation from Catholic leaders as well as faculty at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, comes amid mounting concern over hostility toward Christian clergy and holy sites in Israel.
Cases of Jews harassing Christians have risen sharply in recent years. Last month, the IDF punished a soldier who was filmed bludgeoning a statue of Jesus in southern Lebanon. This week, the IDF also announced that it would discipline a different soldier who was seen placing a cigarette into the mouth of a statue of the Virgin Mary in a photo posted on social media.
Israel’s attorney general asked the Jerusalem Magistrate’s Court, where the indictment was filed, to hold Schreiber in detention for the duration of the legal proceeding.
The assault carries a maximum prison sentence of three years, which could increase to six years if prosecutors prove the attack was motivated by religious bias.
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