By 3.15pm on an autumn Friday afternoon, I’d finished my work. I was free to go for a walk, the sun warm on my back, the rooks cawing by the church.
Little bubbles of joy welled up within me at the freedom of it as I walked the first 100 yards into the village.
This never happens. It certainly doesn’t happen to me.
National newspaper deadlines are complex, varied and short. But, when I was writing for magazines or organisations, Friday was always my faux deadline day. I’d be hammering out copy until the early evening, simply to get everything done.
Friday afternoon was a time of focus, drive and steam coming out of my fingers. I loved it.
Walking out of the house in benign weather, feeling the peace of the natural world descend upon me, was a special treat.
I’d got as far as the war memorial when my mood changed. That very same day, a photojournalist from The Washington Post had been the victim of a sustained, conscious attack by Israeli settlers in the West Bank.
Heidi Levine has reported from the West Bank for many years and knows its increasing woes well.
To set the scene, the West Bank is Palestinian land. Israeli settlements are illegal. Yet, some Israelis continue to build here, believing that the Palestinians have no right to the land.
Plans to attack
It is harvest time in the West Bank. Villagers were due to harvest their olives. This is an annual harvest, so particularly crucial. The trees are a source of livelihood that can last for hundreds of years.
Israeli settlers had leafleted saying that they would attack the harvest, and did indeed do so, attacking both people and setting fire to trees.
Journalists can normally report individually, but the danger was such that a group (including Heidi Levine) travelled together to report this happening. They were all wearing helmets and flak jackets showing that they were the press.
Levine came under sustained attack. Settlers knocked her to the ground and kicked and beat her for at least 10 minutes.
She suffered broken ribs, four fractured vertebrae, hand injuries that required surgery and many bruises.
The masked settlers also stole her work and the means of earning a living: her camera, passport and phone.
I’ve reported from the West Bank, and many other difficult places. Journalists and photographers head for trouble so that you don’t have to. Atrocities are seen. People are given a voice.
The bubbles of joy were replaced with a groundswell of rage as I walked and thought of Levine. She’s a 63-year-old woman and yet young, masked men kicked and beat her in a sustained attack. They stole her kit. They did all this knowingly.
Rage
The International Federation of Journalists says that some 128 journalists were killed in 2025. The Middle East was one of the most unsafe areas in which to report.
When you consider Donald Trump’s support of Israel’s Benjamin Netanyahu, as well as his war with Iran and the impact on the Straits of Hormuz, you can see that it’s vital for photojournalists like Levine to get the story back to the US.
By 3.15pm that afternoon, as I was free to walk round the village, she was probably lying in a hospital bed.
I have immense solidarity with Levine and all other journalists who suffer in the course of their work. Nothing on the walk – the sunshine, leaning on the gate and gazing at the horses, seeing the start of the autumnal colours – could take away my utter rage at the thugs who had done this grievous thing, and the political hierarchy that generally lets them get away with it.