Who controls the Middle East’s unofficial press?
Long before the messaging app Telegram became the go-to newswire for warzones and opposition movements in the Middle East, it played a pivotal and paradoxical role in some of the region’s most defining uprisings. From the Arab Spring to the Mahsa Amini protests in Iran, Telegram has functioned as a dual-edged tool: an encrypted refuge for citizen journalists and organizers, and at times, a channel quietly tolerated or even manipulated by authoritarian regimes. In the absence of free and independent media, the app has evolved into the region’s unofficial press, shaping not only how information spreads but also who controls the narrative.
Its history is complicated. During the 2015–2019 protests in Iran, Telegram was both a lifeline for anti-regime mobilization and, briefly, a tool of censorship when the company suspended channels accused of inciting violence. Similarly, in Belarus and elsewhere, dissidents relied on Telegram to coordinate action and document state abuses, while regimes scrambled to regain narrative control. Now, as conflicts rage and state repression intensifies, the question is no longer whether Telegram empowers protest but who, ultimately, holds power over Telegram itself.
When Israel cut off Internet access in Gaza on October 27, 2023, the region went dark—except for Telegram. While Western media scrambled to verify reports, Palestinian journalists like Motaz Azaiza turned to the platform to upload footage of airstrikes, casualties, and devastated neighborhoods. Within minutes, their content reached millions, bypassing mainstream media.
But the same Telegram that carried Azaiza’s videos also hosted channels like the Qassam Brigades’ official outlet, which posted graphic footage of Hamas terrorists and martyrdom narratives. Meanwhile, Israeli military channels published their own footage. In effect, Telegram became a war zone of its own—where citizen journalism, terrorist propaganda, official military reports, and unverified rumors competed for attention on the same screen.
Unlike Twitter or Facebook, Telegram doesn’t aggressively moderate content. Its founder, Pavel Durov, who was recently arrested, has made clear that he sees Telegram as a platform for free speech—even if that includes groups designated as terrorist organizations by the US and EU. This stance has turned Telegram into a digital haven for actors banned elsewhere. Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham, the former al-Qaeda affiliate in Syria, maintains multiple channels where they release statements, battle updates, and ideological videos.
This matters because in conflict zones like Idlib, there are no foreign correspondents, and local journalists risk assassination. The only updates coming out are through Telegram. And yet, the majority of those posts are not from independent reporters, but from armed groups and their media wings. They choose what to show and what to omit, shaping international perception in real time.
Take the example of the 2022 gas shortages in Syria. Telegram channels affiliated with Assad’s government posted constant updates blaming Western sanctions for the crisis. Meanwhile, opposition channels circulated videos of empty fuel stations, but also wove in conspiratorial claims of Iranian sabotage. No mainstream journalist could verify either version on the ground. But both narratives went viral—and helped harden public opinion.
This isn’t just a Middle Eastern problem. In 2022, a report by the Institute for Strategic Dialogue found that Russian state-linked channels were using Arabic-language Telegram to influence narratives about the Ukraine war. They framed NATO as the aggressor and drew parallels between Ukraine and US interventions in Iraq. These weren’t fringe opinions. They were targeted, strategic, and widely shared among Arabic-speaking audiences. Telegram became a tool not of citizen empowerment, but of geopolitical influence.
There’s also a financial angle. Some of the most prominent Telegram channels in the region run paid subscription models or accept donations via crypto. In Lebanon, where the economy has collapsed, media entrepreneurs have created Telegram-only “newsrooms,” some of which openly admit to running sponsored content from political parties. With no transparency laws or fact-checking, readers are left guessing whether they’re consuming reporting or propaganda.
The real risk is not that Telegram hosts false information. It’s that it becomes the sole source of information in places where no alternatives exist. In environments where power is already imbalanced, where militias have media wings and civilians don’t, the stakes are deeply political. The platform isn’t just enabling communication; it is shaping conflict narratives with global consequences.
In the absence of a free press, Telegram has become the Middle East’s newswire, broadcaster, and archive. But when everyone can publish and no one is accountable, truth becomes a casualty. We are not witnessing citizen journalism; we are witnessing an information war without rules.
