Zomergasten 26 #2 and the tears of Nasrah Habiballah

In our view of the world, context is everything. Alternate a shot of a neutral-looking man’s head with an image of a bowl of soup, and we see a hungry man. Replace the bowl of soup with a lovely young woman, and we see a lustful man. Replacing the young woman with a child in a coffin evokes deep sorrow in the exact same man’s face. That is called the Kuleshov effect, which is a guiding principle in film theory. You could also interpret it as a description of the human mind, which needs very little input to conceive and feel a great deal.

On Sunday 2 August 2026, the second episode of the final series of *Zomergasten* was dedicated to Nasrah Habiballah. Over the past few years, the whole of the Netherlands has come to know her as the NOS correspondent who kept us informed from Israel about the war against the Palestinian population in the Gaza Strip and on the West Bank. Habiballah always did so with an unwavering composure that evoked a range of emotions, from bewilderment to admiration. Outwardly unperturbed, she nevertheless made the horrors unfolding around her all the more palpable.

Not an activist

‘I’m not an activist,’ she was quick to point out at the start of the three-hour interview with Janine Abbring. She was referring to the debate that has been raging in the Dutch media ever since journalist Frederike Geerdink published a book wrote about the impossibility of journalism that is entirely value-free and independent in a world shaped by power and oppression.

Even refraining from taking a stance is a stance in itself, argues Geerdink, and, ironically, that is precisely what Habiballah embodies. After all, her name alone makes her a pawn in the circus of opinion (see X), because in Israel, an Arabic name is, in itself, seen as a stance. The fact that, within that context, she adheres so strictly to the journalistic principles of hearing both sides of the argument, and always seeks to present the facts as objectively as possible, is therefore already a form of activism, courtesy of Kuleshov. An admirable form of activism, as Abbring also confirms towards the end of the programme.

With the utmost care

Habiballah’s extremely meticulous approach was evident in all the clips she had collected. An approach that also demonstrated that she is always searching for the alternative narrative – the one that can turn our own story on its head. The confrontation between conductor Ed Spanjaard and a Chinese Peking Opera star made this truly palpable for the first time. Suddenly, you could see and hear how European and Chinese traditions are based on completely different ideas. The European tradition, in which music of extreme complexity has been made into an emotional and intellectual vehicle, stands in contrast to the Chinese tradition, in which it is precisely the complex text that determines how the music sounds, right down to the syllable.

It might have led to the ‘cultural relativism’ that so many despise, but with Habiballah it became, on the contrary, a celebration of diversity.

Non-slip

But *Zomergasten* wouldn’t be *Zomergasten* if we didn’t get a glimpse of the person behind all that clinical professionalism. You might find it jarring that Janine Abbring, with all her empathetic gifts, focused so heavily on this, but it was necessary. During those three hours, we also want to get a sense of what it really meant to her, whilst she was pregnant and carrying out her duties amidst hatred and incoming missiles. With that surname. In that country.

Habiballah was convincing in her role and held her own for a long time. But as the evening wore on, we saw something happening in her incredibly expressive eyes that we’d also seen in those opening shots during the 8 o’clock news. Her eyes told a story of despair and pent-up anger. And it may well be that she didn’t mean to convey that, but we saw it all the same, because that’s simply how it works. See Kuleshov.

Obvious difficulty

So Habiballah did not shed any tears at the very moment they ought to have been flowing, but left that to the Palestinian journalist, who gave free rein to her desperate anger at the situation in Ramallah. Nasrah Habiballah clearly found it difficult to watch that clip without being moved. Her face showed increasingly deep furrows from holding back her emotions. She repeated more and more often that she had only returned two months ago from hell, which had disappeared from the front pages thanks to Trump and Netanyahu’s war against Iran. That she still had to come to terms with it all.

It made the final hour of this episode of *Zomergasten* one of the most intense I’ve ever experienced. The fact that Janine Abbring allowed them both to turn away from the camera during the closing credits was an act of kindness. It was okay to cry, and that’s certainly what we did, back at home. Although it may well be that Nasrah Habiballah’s tears won’t come for another month or so.

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