How Canadian Media Shapes Middle East Narratives

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2025/05/15

Rayyan Dabbous explores how media framing influences public perception and foreign policy, stressing the importance of peace-oriented discourse and diverse voices. He critiques ideological oversimplifications and highlights Naomi Klein’s Guardian US article as a standout example of effective public engagement. The conversation delves into journalistic responsibility, opinion piece dynamics, and the subtle presence of warmongering across media outlets.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: Today, we’re here with Rayyan Dabbous, a PhD candidate at the Centre for Comparative Literature at the University of Toronto. He is a journalist, playwright, and the author of five novels. His academic and journalistic work focuses on media analysis, Middle Eastern politics, and cultural discourse. Dabbous has conducted extensive research on how Canadian opinion journalism shapes public perception and foreign policy, particularly about the Middle East. He advocates for more diverse voices in the media to promote peace and a more nuanced understanding. His work has appeared in major publications and reflects a multidisciplinary approach to literature, politics, and international affairs. So, why did you select the Toronto Star, Globe and Mail, and National Post for your study?

Rayyan Dabbous: I don’t read any of them regularly, to be honest. But they pop up in the news section on my phone, which is generated either by Samsung—since I use a Samsung device—or by Apple, which offers a similar feature. These are the articles that tend to appear on my screen.

The hypothesis I developed at the time interested me, especially throughout the Olympic in 2024, about the Middle East and the amount of coverage coming from Canada about the region. I noticed that the way these articles were being framed—because I saw them almost weekly—was striking. I wasn’t just struck by how many articles were being published and how they were written. These three major outlets—the Toronto Star, Globe and Mail, and National Post—are some of the most influential in Canada.

So, my hypothesis became: What trends were emerging in their coverage? How were they reporting on the Middle East? Often, I’d just read the headline or skim parts of the article. What mattered to me wasn’t always the fine-grained detail—I’ve done that kind of close reading in other media studies—but the broader patterns.

This was my first time writing a study incorporating many facts, figures, and statistics. What is the general effect? Whether we actively read the articles or passively encounter them, what kind of consensus seems to be forming in Canada about the Middle East?

This is something most people don’t think about. They either consume media actively or passively. But there’s a middle ground where you can step back and ask, “What’s going on here?” Is the coverage random? Especially since I’m analyzing opinion pieces—are these spontaneous commentaries without a deeper structure, or is there an underlying logic? That’s something I wanted to explore.

Jacobsen: And you analyzed 365 articles. That’s a substantial number, especially considering you don’t regularly read those publications. It is a one-year study. Why set that as your timeline rather than, say, doing a three-month sample and then comparing across seasons or something similar? Have you thought about comparing seasonal trends?

Dabbous: So, originally, of course, when we hear “Middle East” in Canada, we think of Israel, Palestine, and October 7. Those are usually the dates people think about.

There were many relevant articles from, say, October 7 until the end of 2023. I’ve written about some of those elsewhere. But I thought 2024 was a good choice because it gave journalists some time. Sure, world events happen, and we can get drawn into them—and especially as writers, we feel responsible and want to speak up.

However, three months was a good window for Canadian media to reassess how they report. So it gave them a fair opportunity: okay, I’m starting the analysis on January 1—with Palestine and Israel in mind and the region more broadly.

It is not isolated even when it is not directly about the conflict. For example, if we look at articles about Iran or the Gulf, there are relationships to that conflict. As for your question about seasonal comparisons, I did not see much variation. Sometimes, depending on events—cultural events around Canada or international ones—you might detect a shift.

For instance, you could notice a more cultural tone around the Olympics, even in articles related to the Middle East. Some pieces mentioned Israel in the context of the Olympics—I forget which year that was—but you could see that framing shaping the coverage.

So, I would not say seasonal differences, per se, but yes, there are cultural events in the summer, and in the winter, there is Canada’s election and political season. In those periods, you would see similarities because some articles were about things like a political meeting or a statement by a politician. So, journalists tended to follow that rhythm.

Jacobsen: Which publication—or author within a publication—leaned furthest to the right, and who was most stringent in their left-wing truisms?

Dabbous: First, in my original draft, I had not considered left, right, or center categorizations. Later, with Policy Options, this distinction was added, perhaps to clarify that there are differences between outlets—though I’m personally skeptical of those divisions.

What did I observe in terms of left versus right? It’s hard to say definitively. As I mentioned, I’m skeptical of these classifications. Take The Globe and Mail. The article says it leans slightly more right than the Toronto Star—which I’m not entirely convinced of.

The Globe and Mail’s article output was more thematic. For example, it tended to focus more on experts and think tanks. Ambassadors or former ambassadors would often weigh in as well. That is not necessarily a right- or left-wing orientation. Some political leanings may show up more in certain sectors than others, but that’s more indirect.

The Toronto Star tries to engage more with community voices so that it might include more left-leaning perspectives. But honestly, in terms of output, themes, and content—it was relatively the same across the three.

Even The National Post—although perhaps we can more confidently say it leans more to the right than the other two—I approached them all as individual human beings writing.

These were not robotic news reports. These were opinion pieces—personal voices and expressions. In that sense, the political spectrum was not relevant to the heart of the analysis.

Jacobsen: In analyzing some of this commentary on the Middle East, does the Canadian left-right spectrum match the American left-right spectrum in your experience?

Dabbous: That’s a good question, and it’s worth investigating. I have previously analyzed how the U.S. covers the Middle East. Your inclination might be right—it’s a bit more fleshed out in the U.S., that’s possible.

In Canada, maybe this is also what people tend to think, but the spectrum is much more fluid—where people stand and what they stand for are not necessarily fixed or set in stone. But I can’t give you a definitive answer because I do not know for certain.

Jacobsen: How do you define a peace-oriented op-ed?

Dabbous: Look, so: peaceful article, pacifist article—I was playing around with those terms at some point. What matters is which articles and which writers have peace in mind. Are they mentioning the word itself? Are they proposing solutions that could lead to peace?

Again, the criteria were broad, and I made them broad on purpose because not many articles explicitly mention the word “peace” or other directly related terms.

So my criteria were not limited to whether they called for peace or a ceasefire but also whether they called for tolerance, nuance, people’s calm down, practical solutions—or even if they were pointing out the lack of solutions or imagination. Those were the articles I categorized as a pacifist, calling for peace, or interested in peace.

So yes, the definition was broad. The numbers aren’t bad for The Globe and Mail and Toronto Star. Around two-thirds—Toronto Star had at least two-thirds, and The Globe and Mail came in at 71%.

Had I narrowed the definition of peace, those numbers would have been much lower, and they likely would not have been as indicative—because journalism is not necessarily meant to advocate in direct terms. And also, not all of these articles are about the Palestine-Israel case. Some address events happening elsewhere in the Middle East.

Even some articles about Syria and regime change—you could tell that some were more belligerent, maybe a bit reckless in their wording. Others were quite the opposite: they viewed these developments as opportunities for peace or positive change in the region. That would be an example of the contrast I observed—the Tupac option shifts.

Jacobsen: Why was Naomi Klein’s Guardian US piece such an effective article, particularly regarding high digital engagement? Digital engagement is not guaranteed. You can publish in the largest publications in the world and receive almost no engagement. So that kind of engagement is a key point of skill—a compliment to her.

Dabbous: Yes, absolutely. Great question. This article section was meant to show some differences outside this small Canadian media bubble while still tying it back to Canada—because Klein is, perhaps, our celebrity.

You are right that digital engagement needs to be indicative. Now, digital engagement can mean many things. It could be the comments left on an article. But for me, it was about what people were Googling. If people heard Naomi Klein wrote an article, they would likely Google her. If they read that article, they probably Googled her again. That’s different, of course, from the norm. We’re comparing her with columnists who don’t have that same reach or whose reputations do not precede them. So, there are limitations to that comparison.

Still, to answer your first question—why was it effective qualitatively, beyond the numbers?—it was a strong mix of rhetorical voice and communication strategies. She appeals to our emotions. She appeals to our logic. She situates her argument historically but carefully remains grounded in the present and proposes solutions for today.

I used that article heuristically—as an illustrative example—because Canadian articles published in the three major outlets I studied were often framed as historical or policy-based and political, cultural and divorced from politics, or sometimes humanitarian, moral, or legal in tone. And that, in itself, is a limitation—not only in terms of engagement but also in terms of the issues being explored.

For example, The Globe and Mail—perhaps a big part of its brand identity is that it claims to know the experts and will bring those voices to your phone or iPad. Sure, it is fine to build a brand identity around expert knowledge. But when we are talking about a region that does not always need expertise in political theory or negotiation strategy, sometimes it needs a human voice.

Naomi Klein’s article calls for specific changes, but it does so with a human voice—the entire point of an opinion piece. Otherwise, I have seen some op-eds that could have easily been formal reports or direct recommendations from the think tanks from which the writers come.

Jacobsen: Why were lawyers less likely to advocate for peace based on their interpretation of international law? I assume it’s similar to politicians who’ve only had a career in politics—unlike someone like Bob Rae, who has experience in politics and at the UN. He understands the adversarial nature of politics and the diplomacy and consensus-building approach of the United Nations. It seems lawyers are often trained in a more adversarial mode—because that is what pays the bills.

Dabbous: Good question. So yes, whether I was surprised or not, lawyers scored lower than other professions.

The moment I saw articles referencing the International Court of Justice (ICJ) and the legal cases being brought against Israel—across all three publications—I saw lawyers weighing in. Some agreed and thought it was good for international law to hold Israel accountable. Others argued that there are flaws in the process and that we should rethink these institutions.

Regardless of where one stands on the issue, your inclination is correct. For example, you would expect this adversarial style of argumentation in politics, where the training favours that kind of engagement.

What I am also recommending, though, is self-awareness—that there are certain vocabularies and certain rhetorical strategies that are considered sure and effective ways to address an issue. Sometimes, you need the output of a think tank with its analytical privilege. Sometimes, you need the perspective of a lawyer who has access to laws and their history.

But again, the whole point is that these people—regardless of background—are deciding to be writers. They are deciding, “I want to write an opinion piece.” And that exercise is inherently a point of view, even though structurally, the entire op-ed format encourages a singular point of view.

You see it clearly in submission guidelines: “Submit your opinion pieces or your op-eds.” Newspapers are partially to blame for that. They encourage specificity. They say, “We’re a diverse country, filled with all these perspectives. But to sell your article, we must highlight what’s unique about you.”

Sure, that is effective in practice—because that draws readers in. But if we are serious about writing because an issue matters—we want to find collective solutions—then we start to run into problems when we think too rigidly about specialization.

Jacobsen: One last question—were there some warmongers? And if so, were they about 10%, 5%, or 1%? Warmongers will always exist, but that’s concerning if it’s 20%. If it’s 5%, okay, that’s tolerable.

Dabbous: Now, that’s maybe the most important question—it underpins the whole inquiry. Yes, there were warmongers. I could prove that qualitatively by looking at what they wrote, analyzing the strategies they used, and even quoting some of the lines in those articles. “Peace through war,” “peace through war”—that sentiment echoed. And I chose not to focus the study through that direct lens. I chose a slightly more neutral route without even creating a category for the percentage of warmongers. That would be a great addition, as you suggest.

In any case, to give you more concrete detail, no—it was not an alarming number. Sure, at the National Post, quite a few writers could be described as interventionists. But to be honest, everyone is an interventionist in some way. Even someone advocating for peace is, in a sense, calling for intervention. The difference lies in how you intervene, how far you’re willing to go, and what kind of intervention you propose.

So even at the National Post, I would not say there were significantly more warmongers than at The Globe and Mail or the Toronto Star. At Toronto Star, I can think of one writer—without naming them—whose articles were, in my view, not politically responsible. Not responsible for a writer. Because we write words, and words mean things. Whether or not those words are true is another matter, but at the very least, they carry weight and consequences.

Maybe what’s most striking about this analysis is that—even if you’re interested in how many warmongers there are—the numbers don’t differ much between the publications. And the effects don’t differ much either. One warmonger or one journalist at the Toronto Star who writes regularly—there’s a big difference between a regular columnist and a one-time contributor—that person can have just as much influence as someone at the National Post, even if Canadians already perceive the Post as aligned with a certain ideological stance and therefore might discount it.

However, when someone at The Globe and Mail or Toronto Star writes a similarly forceful piece, it can have a greater impact. We tend to believe it more, for example. That’s the real point. Being a warmonger is not that hard. It doesn’t take writing overtly violent statements. It can come through subtle framing, key sentences or a tone. It just takes the act of writing.

And this is why we are both implicated—as writers. That is a responsibility we share, especially when writing about a region that probably doesn’t need more words spoken about it. Choosing to add more words is a choice—and it’s a tricky one. More words are written about the Middle East than grains of sand in its deserts. So, yes, choosing to write about the region should be an opportunity for reflection, not exploitation.

Jacobsen: Excellent. Thank you. Have fun at work.

Dabbous: Awesome. Thank you, Scott. It’s always a pleasure.

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