“Short break! Raid in Nablus!” calls out Abed Othman. “Please contact all your families.” Just moments earlier, the grey-haired founder of the Dooz media platform had been watching with satisfaction as his trainee reporters presented their video projects. Ten women and three men are sitting with him and two editors under the harsh fluorescent lights of a hotel conference room in Ramallah. Also present are two staff members from Pro Peace. The students come from the university in Nablus, 36 kilometres away – a city picturesquely nestled between two hills, but now increasingly hemmed in by illegal Israeli settlements. There are several reasons why today’s meeting is taking place in Ramallah – while East Jerusalem is the official capital, it is the de facto capital of the Palestinian territories. One of them is security.
The students’ short films address the larger conflict only indirectly. They are local reports, with complete freedom in choosing their topics. All the more telling, then, that most of the films focus on restricted freedom of movement under the occupation. One team followed a taxi driver; another interviewed fellow students at Nablus University about the daily obstacle course they face. Some of the facts are new even to Othman himself. For example, the students discovered in their research, that Palestinians lose an estimated 60 million working hours each year waiting at checkpoints. Since October 7, 2023, one hundred new military checkpoints have been installed across the West Bank. Around Nablus alone, there are now 70 checkpoints where Palestinians are stopped, while Israeli settlers are waved through without delay.
The journey from her village to the university in Nablus should take no more than twenty minutes, one young reporter explains. But even with a two-hour buffer, she often arrives late. If the military closes a checkpoint without warning, she is stuck for hours, exposed to wind and weather. Her parents live in constant worry.
The Palestinian city of Nablus is increasingly being encircled by illegal Israeli settlements.
For the young women from Nablus, the trip to Ramallah also offers a brief break from everyday life under occupation.
Up close and deeply moving
Yet the trainee journalists’ investigations go far beyond restricted mobility. They take on a wide range of social issues – always close to the people, professionally filmed, and often deeply moving. The story of a woman with diabetes who lost a leg and now navigates the narrow alleys of her neighbourhood in a wheelchair sparks a lively discussion among the group about the stigma surrounding disability and illness.
One thing stands out immediately: women are not only in the majority, they also speak up confidently and hold nothing back. This comes as no surprise to Othman. “At our universities, there are ten women for every man,” he says. Confidence and a self-assured presence are actively trained in the Dooz workshops. “Many of them come from villages and are very shy at first. We want them to feel capable of interviewing a mayor or a minister.”
One topic runs like a thread through many of the contributions: mental health – an issue that long remained taboo in Palestinian society. One of those determined to change this is Alaa Wissawi. She lives in Nablus, spent a semester abroad in Granada, Spain, and has been part of the training newsroom only since the summer. For her, the responsibility is clear: “We have to talk openly about illnesses like depression – that’s our duty as journalists.” The sense of hopelessness since the war in Gaza, tighter restrictions imposed by the Israeli army, and unemployment hovering around 50 percent, she says, have brought underlying problems within society sharply to the surface.
This is precisely what Dooz is about. Since 2014, the initiative has promoted citizen journalism as a way of strengthening society from within. “Peace journalism,” Othman calls it – despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that they deliberately leave high-level politics aside. The aim is to exert influence where it is possible, fostering a sense of agency rather than feeling like a pawn in a larger game. “Dooz means ‘straight ahead’ in Arabic,” explains the former Deutsche Welle reporter. More than 830 journalists have been trained through the initiative so far.
After presenting their video projects, the Dooz reporters receive a certificate of successful participation from Dooz founder Abed Othman (left).
Intensified occupation policies and settler violence
Since the Hamas attack of October 7, 2023 and the ensuing war in Gaza, concepts such as law, justice and ethics have become increasingly blurred in the West Bank. While Israel’s government, with its far-right ministers, continues to approve new settlement projects, radical Jewish settlers attack Palestinians largely unhindered. “Around Nablus, settlers are considered particularly violent,” explains editor-in-chief Jalaa Abuarab. One of her colleagues adds that her sister was recently harassed even while sitting in her car. “Her children were with her – all she could do was scream. We’re all afraid of being attacked.”
This makes the local reporting carried out by Dooz all the more vital. It not only addresses social issues, but also – like some other local media outlets – provides concrete guidance for everyday life: Which checkpoints are passable? Where are checks or outbreaks of violence to be expected? Information that can determine whether people make it to work or return home safely. But even this basic service is becoming increasingly difficult. “By now, keeping track of the situation at around 900 checkpoints and roadblocks is a full-time job,” says Abuarab.
Since the war began, fear of becoming a victim of settlement policy has also grown within Nablus itself. Abuarab recounts how a long-established florist was recently forced to close his shop. “He received an eviction order from the Israeli military.” The reason: his house is located near an Israeli settlement on one of the hills overlooking the city – and falls within Zone B. Under the Oslo Accords of 1995, the West Bank was divided into three zones. The Palestinian self-administered areas, including cities like Nablus, make up only 18 percent of the territory and are Area A. They are surrounded by Areas B and C. Area B is officially jointly administered by Israel and the PA, although there are regular Israeli incursions there. Area C is under full Israeli military control and where the vast majority of Israeli settlements are located.
At this point, Othman announces the break due to the raid. “Four people injured already,” he says. “They’re firing weapons in the middle of the city. There will be at least one death today.” Surprise raids by the Israeli military have become almost routine since the war began, says student Alaa Wissawi. Residents are given no explanation. “Pure harassment,” Othman believes. The group does not seem overly shocked. “Sadly, we’ve grown used to it,” one of the women says.
“We Palestinians never have time and can’t plan anything”
Incidents like these are precisely why the workshops are held in Ramallah, explains the project officer at Pro Peace. She oversees the collaboration with Dooz and lives in East Jerusalem herself. “Ramallah is considered more stable. People can catch their breath here and experience a bit of normality.” That morning, however, it had been sheer luck that the minibus carrying the participants made it through without major delays. One of the women counts the checkpoints she had to pass on her fingers: six. She shrugs. “We Palestinians never have time and can’t plan anything.”
One colleague from Bethlehem had been stuck for more than three hours early that morning. He prefers not to give his name. You never know. “I have to pass the constantly overcrowded checkpoint between the north and south, where soldiers are particularly strict.” It is not just about lost time, missed working hours or medical appointments, he says. “You’re not allowed to speak when the car is being checked, you’re not allowed to move. It’s stressful.” In winter, the cold adds to the strain.
Ramallah may be safer, the project officer adds, but participants are often already exhausted by the time they arrive. Logistics alone consume a large share of the project’s time. She sighs and looks around the room. “And now, of course, everyone’s thoughts are with their families in Nablus.”
What she finds deeply impressive is that the “Doozians” still show up for the workshops or head out with their video cameras. The press in the West Bank is caught in the crossfire; reporters are arrested or injured.
On their way to the workshops in Ramallah, participants must pass through the “Ein Senyeh checkpoint” each time. The Arabic inscription means “no future.”
Giving Palestinians a voice without further inflaming tensions
The office in Nablus has now become Dooz’s last remaining base. Their office in Gaza was destroyed by bombing, Othman says. One colleague was killed in the attack. They are still in contact with the others. “But the situation is catastrophic.” Their second West Bank office, in Tulkarem, had to be abandoned as well. A year ago, the city’s two large refugee camps were attacked by the Israeli military; residents were forced to flee, and many homes were destroyed. The local university shut its doors shortly afterwards.
No education also means no prospects for the younger generation. That is precisely why their work is so important, Othman believes – and why he is all the more grateful for the support from Pro Peace. “Fifty percent unemployment,” he says, “would cause serious problems in any country – domestic violence, drug abuse.” Their aim, he explains, is to report without stigmatising, to give Palestinians a voice without further fuelling tensions. “That’s what we teach the next generation.”
For now, the priority is simply getting home. The distance is only 36 kilometres. But at the roundabout by the separation barrier outside Ramallah, a long line of cars has already formed. Vehicles inch past a faded graffiti portrait of Arafat, past children selling cheap goods through open windows. By the time you reach the checkpoint – where a young Israeli soldier asks for your papers in a harsh tone – your nerves are on edge. Five more roadblocks still lie ahead. At least the military has withdrawn from Nablus. At least for today.
Agnes Fazekas is a freelance journalist based in Tel Aviv. She visited the Dooz workshop in December 2025.