A Newsman Breaks the Mold in Arab World

Rashed acknowledged that he faced Saudi pressure, "to an annoying degree," although he says it comes from other governments as well, along with an Arab intelligentsia he finds reactionary. In past months, the station has quit covering a former Syrian vice president who defected in Europe. In a huge scoop, it had aired an interview with him in December, where he blamed Syria for the assassination of a former Lebanese prime minister. Veiled threats followed from Syria, and the station brought its Beirut correspondent to Dubai for more than a month, fearing for his safety. Rashed said the threats were part of the decision to stop covering the exiled official.

"I am calculating my risk," he said. But he acknowledged, too, that Saudi officials had ordered him to back off.

The Nuts and Bolts of News

On Khatib's desk is a statuette of the god of work, brought by a colleague from Cambodia. It has eight arms, each with a tool -- a saw, hammer, pliers and so on. "If you had eight arms and 40 hours instead of 24," he said, "that would be an interesting life."

Khatib says he leaves to Rashed the newsroom's high politics -- relations with management and Saudi officials -- in part because he's too busy to do otherwise in a workday that often stretches from 9:30 a.m. to 11 p.m., overseeing 34 bureaus. On this day, it was 6 p.m., one of his three crunch times, ahead of the competitive evening news.

In a span of a few minutes, someone asked for his help on accreditation to the World Economic Forum. A text message beeped on his cellphone, one of perhaps 100 he received that day. He ignored e-mail; 500 were unread. "I look at it, and I get scared," he said. On his screen, al-Jazeera broadcast news of three Marines killed in western Iraq; al-Arabiya left it for the next bulletin.

His cellphone rang. "When did he die?" he said, standing up.

Heads in the newsroom turned. "Who died?" asked a producer, Hanadi el-Imam.

It was Mohammed al-Maghout, a Syrian poet and writer. Khatib reluctantly opened his e-mail and sent a request for archival footage. He then greeted the sister of a colleague slain in Iraq, one of 11 al-Arabiya staff members to die there.

A moment later, and he turned to edit a story for the late-night news show, "The Last Hour."

It was the four-paragraph script on the political deadlock in Iraq over the nomination of Prime Minister Ibrahim al-Jafari. He cut a line: "considering that Jafari is not favored by Washington." Too subjective. He changed the word "inflexibility" of the parties' positions to "their inability to reach a framework." He debated a line about U.S. pressure on Jafari. Again, too subjective.

"What if we put 'observers say' there?" said the Iraqi writer, Diyar Omari, a former al-Jazeera bureau chief in Baghdad.

"No," Khatib said, shaking his head. "That's a game that you know I know."

Khatib seems to relish those exchanges, the way for him to agitate toward instilling what he views as fairness.

At the news meeting the next day, he debated running a story on Iran that would look at its geopolitical ambitions in the region. The producer, Imam, asked whether to invite an Iranian or American guest. Khatib grimaced -- the premise of the story itself was controversial.

"If you put on an American, it will look like you're campaigning against Iran," he said. "If you put on an Iranian, it will look like propaganda for Iran." To be correct, he said, you would need to have two opinions.

"So what do you suggest?" she said.

"Drop it today," he answered. The story was left for another day.

'It's a Daily Fight'

Khatib almost always stays unruffled, perhaps self-consciously, giving his decisions a passionless feel. But his demeanor belies a frustration with his correspondents' lack of freedom and the prevailing notion of what journalism is.

He scans the day's report for an example of what he wants the reporting to become.

"Most of these are about Iraq, Pakistan, Iran and the Palestinians," he said, frowning, as he scrolled item to item.

The next day he did it again, and the answer was the same. It is theory and practice, again.

"It's a daily fight," he said. "You worry about content, about being fair, the competition, being accurate, being good in the eyes of viewers, being good in the eyes of management, the views of colleagues. It needs a magic formula that I haven't found, yet." He thought he needed three months to impose his vision. "Now it's 18 months, and I don't know how long it will take."

He ordered another cup of coffee. At his wife's request, he had gone home early the night before, at 9 p.m., then ended up staying on the phone until 2 a.m. with editors on a breaking story. He arrived at 9:30 a.m. this morning.

"I think we can get somewhere, but I'm not naive to say it just needs a revolutionary stand," he said.

Khatib caught himself. He was speaking with too much confidence, with the certainty he says he has come to abhor.

"I think," he added. "God knows. We'll see."