The office is on the third floor of a tired building in a mixed neighborhood of Beirut. The sign downstairs says Al-Mirsad Weekly, though half the letters have burned out. Inside, the newsroom is three rooms, one malfunctioning air conditioner, two dented filing cabinets, and a wall calendar that is still turned to June. Everybody smokes except the intern, who is trying very hard to look like he might smoke if promoted.
The camera pans past a whiteboard with story ideas:
“Corruption in municipal bread contracts”
“Interview with cleric who maybe supports us, maybe doesn’t”
“Why youth are losing their values”
“Profile of martyr’s cousin pending photo approval”
The editor in chief, Abu Hamza, is in his late forties, with reading glasses he keeps taking off for emphasis. He sits behind a desk stacked with old issues of the paper, a framed Quranic verse, and a printer that makes a sound like an animal in pain.
He is in the middle of yelling at the layout guy.
“Why is the headline smaller than the photo?”
The layout guy, Nabil, shrugs without looking up from his screen.
“Because the photo is from WhatsApp and if I crop it any more we lose the rifle.”
Abu Hamza stares at him.
“We are not selling the rifle. We are selling the article.”
Nabil turns to the camera in an interview cutaway.
“He always says this. Last month he killed a piece because the rifle was too small.”
Back in the room, the young reporter, Samer, comes in with a notebook.
“I have the quotes from Sheikh Marwan.”
Abu Hamza perks up.
“Good. Does he condemn the government?”
“Yes.”
“Does he condemn the Americans?”
“Yes.”
“Does he condemn us?”
Samer hesitates.
“He says all unlawful zeal is harmful to the image of Islam.”
Silence.
Nabil slowly swivels his chair.
Abu Hamza leans back.
“That is not ideal.”
Interview cutaway with Samer. He speaks softly and keeps glancing off camera.
“The challenge here is nuance. If a cleric agrees with us on three things and thinks we are criminal lunatics on the fourth thing, the editor says we should focus on the areas of agreement. He calls this editorial balance.”
In the next room, the social media manager, Farah, is trying to explain engagement numbers to two older men who regard the internet as a Zionist trap that also happens to be useful.
She points at her laptop.
“This post did well because it was angry, short, and had a red circle around the thing people were supposed to be angry about.”
One of the men asks, “What thing?”
Farah squints.
“I don’t remember. The point is the circle.”
Interview cutaway with Farah.
“I studied marketing in Dubai. My father thinks I work in publishing. My mother thinks I work in translation. Neither of them is fully wrong.”
A phone rings. Nobody answers it. It rings again. Abu Hamza barks at the intern.
“Yusuf. The phone. Show initiative.”
The intern picks up.
“Yes, peace be upon you. Yes. Yes, one moment.”
He covers the receiver.
“It’s the printer repair man.”
Everybody freezes.
Abu Hamza stands up.
“Tell him the machine is functioning.”
“It isn’t.”
“I know that. But if he comes now, he’ll also ask about the unpaid invoice.”
Interview cutaway with Abu Hamza.
“People imagine underground media is all ideology and bravery. Eighty percent is cash flow. The caliphate fell. The electricity bill did not.”
….
Morning editorial meeting. The whole staff is around a plastic table with tea glasses. On the wall behind them is a poster about media ethics that nobody acknowledges. The editor has assigned a big cover story: “The Moral Collapse of Arab Satellite Television.”
Farah asks, “Do we have reporting?”
Abu Hamza replies, “We have conviction.”
Nabil, still half asleep, says, “Conviction does not fill eight hundred words.”
Samer opens his notebook.
“I can call that professor at the university. The one who talks about cultural imperialism.”
Abu Hamza nods approvingly.
“Yes. Good. But ask him questions in a way that leads to the correct answer.”
Interview cutaway with Samer.
“He says journalism is the art of discovering what you already know.”
The deputy editor, who has so far said nothing, suddenly raises a finger.
“We also need a sidebar condemning the new Turkish soap opera.”
Farah says, “You watch the Turkish soap opera.”
He looks offended.
“I watch it critically.”
The camera catches three other staff members avoiding eye contact.
Then the office door opens and a local fixer comes in carrying a cardboard box.
“I brought the archive issues from storage.”
He drops the box and a stack of old front pages spills across the floor. The camera catches them:
“AMERICA HUMILIATED”
“NEW DAWN FOR THE UMMAH”
“FINAL WARNING TO CORRUPT ELITES”
“SPECIAL RAMADAN RECIPES”
Farah lifts one and laughs.
“You ran lentil soup next to a call for global upheaval.”
Nabil deadpans, “A newspaper must meet all the needs of the reader.”
Interview cutaway with Nabil.
“This place would be much easier to run if the revolution did not keep colliding with domestic life. Somebody is always trying to place an apocalyptic manifesto beside a coupon for discounted school shoes.”
Later that afternoon, Samer comes back from an interview.
“The professor agreed to speak, but only off the record.”
“Why?”
“He says we quote selectively.”
The room goes quiet.
Abu Hamza says, “Selective quotation is the foundation of civilization.”
Farah nearly chokes on her tea.
The camera cuts to her interview.
“The funniest part is that everybody here thinks he is the only honest person in the building. They all think the others are compromised. The editor thinks the deputy editor is soft. The deputy editor thinks the editor is reckless. The religious columnist thinks both of them are insufficiently learned. The business manager thinks all of them are children because none of them understand rent.”
The staff gathers around the printer, which has jammed again while producing the latest editorial. Abu Hamza is trying to pull out the paper without tearing it. Everyone is giving contradictory advice.
“Lift the tray.”
“No, open the back.”
“Turn it off.”
“Don’t turn it off, we’ll lose the file.”
The machine emits a grinding noise and dies.
Silence.
Abu Hamza looks straight into the camera.
“This is foreign sabotage.”
