TEHRAN - Journalism is essential in any society, as it provides the information necessary for people to navigate and understand the world around them. This role becomes even more critical during wartime, when the public relies on on-the-ground reporting to distinguish between fact and fiction amid the chaos of conflict. For journalists, covering a war is a uniquely demanding task, as it is rife with existential and logistical challenges rarely encountered during peacetime.
With this in mind, the Tehran Times sat down with Mohammad Neginipour, who recently covered the 40-day US-Israeli war against Iran from start to finish. He shared his first-hand experiences, offered an intimate look at what he witnessed, and revealed the raw realities of reporting from the heart of a war in 2026.
Below is the full text of the interview:
To start, could you explain what it means to be a crisis or war reporter? How does this field differ from other areas of journalism?
To define crisis journalism, we first need to understand what a “crisis” actually is. There are many academic and scientific definitions of crisis. Also, Everyone has their own interpretation. The closest understanding I have is that a crisis is a situation where a specific location is affected by both time and place—meaning that a certain event or condition causes disorder and instability in a particular environment.
For example, we are currently in an economic crisis due to sanctions and pressure, but that doesn’t necessarily fall under crisis reporting unless there’s a specific event that causes chaos — like an explosion, a flood, or a collapse of order — where normal routines are broken and control is lost. In such cases, both the location and the timing are affected by the crisis, and journalists or documentarians can play an active role.
More than defining crisis journalism itself, I believe crisis documentation—paired with artistic and cinematic techniques—has a special importance. It involves creating a documentary that combines journalistic integrity with visual storytelling, often with an artistic or cinematic angle. This form of crisis documentation helps produce a journalistic documentary or film that captures the human and emotional layers of a crisis.
A crisis journalist or documentary filmmaker needs both journalistic skills and film-making expertise: understanding how to use cameras during chaotic moments, how to shoot meaningful shots, and how to structure a compelling narrative. It’s crucial to shoot footage that can be effectively used in editing, where the choice of shots and their emotional impact matter greatly.
It’s essential to understand that working in a crisis situation is fundamentally different from working in normal conditions. For example, right now we’re sitting calmly, talking about crises. What we’re discussing might be a crisis or a conflict, but we’re not inside one. In a real crisis—say, during a missile attack, a riot, or a natural disaster—people react emotionally, sometimes violently. Blood, anger, fear, and chaos are common.
In such situations, you can’t approach people the same way you do in regular interviews. Someone who has just lost a loved one or witnessed violence may react unpredictably or violently. A crisis reporter must have emotional intelligence and behavioral sensitivity. Understanding human reactions—fear, anger, grief—and how to approach victims and witnesses without exacerbating their trauma is vital.
Without this experience, a journalist or documentary filmmaker can inadvertently worsen the crisis, or fail to handle it properly. I’ve seen cases where a journalist entered a scene without understanding the emotional tension, filming grieving families or traumatized individuals, which often led to anger or violence from them. It’s very important to manage the interaction carefully and respectfully, especially when dealing with grief-stricken families.
During the recent war, when was the first time you left your home or office to cover the situation? Can you tell us about that experience?
The first time I left home was right after the missile strikes on the Leader's office. I went up to the rooftop because cruise missiles were passing overhead. They came very close—about fifty or a hundred meters away—and I filmed them. The sound of the missiles and the jets was very loud, and I documented them from above.
My first major report was during the explosion at Ferdowsi Square. The site of the explosion was near the police diplomatic headquarters, and opposite it, there was a cultural and film center that was hit. You might have seen footage of the debris falling on civilians. Most military sites are evacuated during war, but many civilian and civilian-adjacent buildings—like the police station or cultural centers—were targeted and destroyed, even if they were apparently empty.
One story that sticks with me is about a woman I saw in a video later sent to me. She said her husband was martyred in the explosion. She was still alive when I filmed her. Later, someone told me her husband died in a secondary explosion. He had gone to help rescue neighbors trapped in the rubble, and the second strike killed him. Many martyrs fall in these secondary phases because no human can stand by and watch others suffer beneath debris without trying to help.
Most of these rescue operations are urgent and life-saving. Emergency teams work tirelessly: controlling bleeding, clearing airways, and trying to save those trapped beneath rubble. But explosive secondary strikes and falling debris often result in more loss of life. Sometimes it takes days or even a week to recover bodies that are buried deep or covered under heavy debris.
Covering war must have been incredibly difficult. If you had to choose the hardest day during the 40 days of fighting, what would it be?
On a personal level, the hardest day was when news about the Leader's martyrdom first began circulating in foreign media. The news brought with it a lot of anxiety and fear. When it was officially confirmed, it felt as if the entire world had turned upside down.
I’ve experienced many tragic scenes—sometimes thousands of our compatriots lost—but the emotional toll was most intense when the reality of these losses hit home. I remember trembling, feeling my heart pounding, and suffering from depression over the images I witnessed. Yet, I kept myself together because I knew that in such moments, the priority is to keep the media coverage going. There will be time to mourn later. Right now, my mission is to report, document, and keep the narrative alive.
Some journalists and documentary filmmakers are highly skilled under normal circumstances, but during a crisis, their mind can become overwhelmed, their thinking clouded. That’s where crisis media practitioners with behavioral training and experience are crucial—they can avoid mistakes that intensify the crisis.
I recall a specific incident when, during a crisis, a colleague from another media outlet was filming grieving families, which caused serious anger. Families yelled at him, sometimes even physically reacted because their emotions were overwhelmed. Such incidents highlight how delicate these situations are and how important it is to approach victims with compassion and awareness.
How do you think crisis journalism or documentary work can continue after the main phase of a conflict? Is the work over, or are there still important stories to tell?
The conflict on the surface might have ended for most people, but for many individuals, trauma and crisis continue. There are still thousands of stories that remain untold—stories of loss, resilience, and survival. Even after the fighting stops, the psychological scars, unhealed wounds, and ongoing struggles remain.
In fact, some of the most compelling stories come after the main events. Many victims have strange or tragic stories—like those of children who lost their parents, families torn apart, or individuals suffering from long-term trauma. These stories need careful, human-focused storytelling.
A crisis journalist or documentary maker who understands these layers can continue to produce meaningful content, even after hostilities have ceased. It’s not just about covering explosions or battlefield scenes but telling the human stories that are often hidden.
There are also professional journalists who specialize in crisis or conflict now, although most of their work is focused on war zones abroad. We don’t have many war correspondents in Iran who work extensively in conflict zones like Syria or Iraq, but we do have a few—who produce crisis documentaries or cover ongoing struggles.
Lastly, it’s important to acknowledge that the war itself has several layers: beyond the violent chaos and destruction, there is also a narrative of victory. Iran’s resilience and eventual victory are important stories that must also be told, in human terms—stories of mothers mourning their children, or families whose loved ones returned as martyrs. These human stories provide a deeper understanding of victory beyond just military achievements.
As a final point, do you have a message for the Iranian people?
I’d like to say that the biggest mistake we made was disconnecting ourselves from the wider social media and network platforms, and instead focusing only on domestic channels and loyal supporters. This created an echo chamber, excluding many people—especially the moderates and those in the grey zones—so that even when something significant happened, they weren’t part of the larger narrative.
