“Things happen.” A mere phrase. That’s all it took for the US president to brush off what is arguably the most infamous murder of a reporter of the past ten years – and in so doing sank to a fresh depth in his disregard toward journalists, for the media – and for the truth.
The American leader’s dismissive attitude of the killing of well-known reporter the Washington Post columnist came during a press conference with the Saudi crown prince, MBS – a man whom the US intelligence found in a recent assessment had ordered the kidnap and killing of the journalist in 2018. (The crown prince has denied involvement.)
The US intelligence services were not the sole entities to conclude the murder – which occurred in the Saudi diplomatic building in Istanbul and in which the 59-year-old journalist was drugged and dismembered – was signed off at the highest levels. An investigation led by former UN expert, Agnès Callamard, reached comparable findings.
For a brief period, governments were in agreement in their condemnation of Saudi Arabia’s actions. The US enacted penalties and visa bans in 2021 over the murder, although it stopped short of sanctioning the crown prince himself. Since then, the nation has been slowly rehabilitating itself – and the leader’s trip to the US capital seemed to be the final confirmation of that rehabilitation.
Critics of the regime had roundly condemned the meeting. But what was on display at the White House was worse than could have been imagined. Not only did Trump fete Prince Mohammed but he seemed to alter history – and then pointed fingers at the victim. Prince Mohammed, Trump claimed when asked, was unaware about the murder – in clear opposition to what his nation’s spy agencies determined four years ago. Moreover, Trump said: “Many individuals didn’t like that person that you’re talking about, whether you like him or disapproved, things happen.”
This represents a fresh and shameful low for a leader who has made little secret of his disdain for the facts – or for the press. He has defamed journalists (he called ABC news, whose journalist asked the question about Khashoggi at the Saudi press conference “false information”), scolded them in open settings (he called one a “piggy” this week for asking about his connection with the convicted sex offender financier Jeffrey Epstein), taken legal action against media organizations for eye-watering sums of money in frivolous cases, and called for media groups he doesn’t like to be shut down.
He has pressured established media out of the official briefing group for declining to use language of his choosing, and he has slashed funding for vital news services at domestically and vital independent media abroad.
All of that has fostered an atmosphere in which reporters are clearly more vulnerable in the United States, but one in which their targeting – and indeed murder – becomes not just unimportant (“things happen”) but tolerated (“a lot of people didn’t like that gentleman”).
It is unsurprising that that year was the most lethal year on record for journalists in the over three decades the press freedom organization has been tracking this data: a persistent failure to bring to justice those responsible for journalist killings has established a environment without consequences in which journalists’ killers are actually able to escape punishment and so persist in these actions.
In no place is this clearer than in Israel, which is accountable for the deaths of more than 200 media workers in the recent period.
The effect on society is profound. Targeting reporters are assaults on facts. They are undermining of reality. They are attacks on our rights to know and on our freedom to live freely and safely.
On Thursday, the Committee to Protect Journalists gathers for its annual International Press Freedom awards. The statement there is the identical as my one for the president: such events may occur. But it is our duty to make sure they do not.
A travel writer and cultural enthusiast with over a decade of experience exploring global destinations and sharing unique stories.