The answer isn't to trust Israel more. It's to apply the same standard of evidence to everyone.

Bill Maher noticed something strange about the coverage of the attempted hijacking of an Israel-bound passenger jet last week.

“It did seem like the media is always a little reluctant to call it terrorism when it’s obviously terrorism,” Maher observed wryly during the online “Overtime” segment of HBO’s Real Time this week. “After a while, they do.”

Then came the more serious accusation: “But I noticed, when the Hamas propaganda is out there, boy, that gets fast-tracked.”

Maher is making a provocative charge, and it would be easy to take it too far. 

There is no single entity called “the media,” and major news organizations have produced enormous amounts of excellent reporting on Hamas terrorism, the October 7 massacre and the suffering of Israelis.

But we don’t have to establish some sweeping anti-Israel conspiracy to examine Maher’s complaint.

We can simply compare evidentiary standards.

Consider the strange initial descriptions of the attempted attack aboard the Flydubai flight. 

Early reports referred to an “altercation” between the pilots. We now know that the co-pilot allegedly attacked the captain with a crash axe and attempted to seize control of the Israel-bound aircraft. The United Arab Emirates has described it as an attempted terrorist attack.

Maher neatly captured the absurdity of “altercation.”

“I think we should crash the plane, you don’t, agree to disagree,” he joked.

Journalists were correct not to immediately assign an ideological motive before investigators had evidence, of course. But there was an enormous linguistic territory between declaring terrorism and describing an apparent attempt to seize an airliner as a disagreement between pilots.

This isn’t the first time questionable language has created controversy.

When ISIS leader Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi died in 2019, The Washington Post briefly described him in a headline as an “austere religious scholar.” 

Technically, perhaps Baghdadi had been a religious scholar at some point. He was also the leader of one of the most barbaric terrorist organizations of the modern era, overseeing a self-declared caliphate notorious for murder, torture and the systematic sexual enslavement of Yazidi women and girls.

After a hewn cry, the Post recognized the obvious problem and changed the headline.

More consequential perhaps was the 2023 explosion at Gaza’s al-Ahli hospital. 

Initial reports transmitted, without question, Palestinian claims that an Israeli airstrike had killed approximately 500 people. The New York Times later acknowledged that its early coverage had relied too heavily on Hamas claims and had not made sufficiently clear what remained unverified.

That error had enormous consequences because the allegation raced around the world before investigators could establish what happened.

The correction, as it always is, is printed on page 26. Everyone sees the headline. They don’t all see the correction.

Now compare that haste with the extraordinary debate over sexual violence on October 7.

A United Nations mission found reasonable grounds to believe that sexual assaults occurred in multiple locations during the Hamas-led attack. Investigators also found what the UN called “clear and convincing information” that hostages suffered rape, sexualized torture and other forms of sexual violence in captivity.

Human Rights Watch subsequently found evidence of sexual and gender-based violence and accepted the UN findings.

So the question isn’t whether journalists should believe Israel.

Journalists shouldn’t “believe” governments at all. Governments are interested parties. Their claims should be reported, attributed, investigated and corroborated.

But Hamas is an interested party, too.

So is the Palestinian Authority. So is Iran. So is Hezbollah. So are Israeli politicians, American presidents and military officials.

The same rule must apply to everyone.

“Hamas says Israel bombed a hospital” should initially be treated with precisely the same caution as “Israel says Hamas committed an atrocity.”

Neither becomes true because an official said it.

Neither becomes false because the opposing side denied it.

Journalism’s job is to determine what the available evidence supports.

This is also why corrections, while essential, cannot completely repair bad breaking-news coverage. First impressions travel around the world instantly. A dramatic headline gets millions of views. Politicians react. Demonstrations begin. Social media explodes.

The correction three days later rarely travels as far.

The solution therefore isn’t preferential treatment for Israel. Nor should newsrooms stop scrutinizing Israeli military claims, casualty estimates or statements from Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government.

Scrutinize them relentlessly.

Then scrutinize Hamas just as relentlessly.

If casualty figures originate with a Hamas-run ministry, say so prominently. If Israeli intelligence makes an allegation that hasn’t been independently verified, say that prominently too. If the cause of an explosion is unknown, write “explosion,” not “Israeli airstrike.” If someone attacks an airline captain with an axe and attempts to seize an aircraft, describe what happened without hiding behind antiseptic language while investigators determine motive.

And when substantial independent evidence establishes sexual violence, terrorism or another atrocity, update the terminology accordingly.

The problem Maher identifies is ultimately bigger than Israel.

Public confidence in journalism depends upon readers believing that evidence — not politics, ideology, sympathy or narrative — determines how events are described.

That confidence is fragile.

Restoring it doesn’t require journalists to take Israel’s side.

It requires them to take the evidence’s side.

(Contributing writer, Brooke Bell)