Greg Bouwer
IINZ
Last October, Stuff refused to publish a full-page advertisement marking the second anniversary of the October 7 massacre.
This July, the Post, owned by Stuff, published another full-page advertisement from the Palestine Solidarity Network Aotearoa accusing Israeli soldiers of genocide, crimes against humanity and the deliberate killing of Palestinian children. It urged readers to support sanctions against Israel and sign a political petition.
Both were editorial decisions.
Both were entirely within Stuff’s rights. The question is whether both were guided by the same editorial principles.
In correspondence explaining its October 2025 decision, Stuff said the anniversary of October 7 was “particularly sensitive” and advised that it had paused advocacy advertising from all sides on similarly sensitive occasions.
That principle deserves to be taken seriously. It also deserves to be applied consistently. That is why these two editorial decisions require an explanation.
Newspapers exercise editorial judgement every day. They decide which stories to publish, which opinion pieces to commission, which letters to print and which advertisements to accept or reject. Editors are expected to weigh accuracy, legal risk, public interest, community impact and the likely consequences of publication.
That discretion is not only legitimate – it is essential.
But editorial discretion and editorial accountability go together.
Stuff’s explanation for declining the October 7 advertisement rested on a principle of restraint. The anniversary, it argued, was exceptionally sensitive, and publishing advocacy material risked inflaming an already distressed community.
Whether one agreed with that decision matters less than the principle on which it rested.
The publication of the PSNA advertisement raises an obvious question about how that principle was subsequently applied.
Stuff may respond that the distinction is straightforward. The October 7 decision concerned advocacy on the anniversary of an event of exceptional emotional significance, whereas the PSNA advertisement appeared on an ordinary publication date.
That explains the difference in timing. It does not, by itself, explain the difference in editorial judgement.
Editorial restraint exists to minimise unnecessary harm and unnecessary division. That concern does not disappear once an anniversary has passed.
A memorial advertisement asks readers to remember people who were murdered.
An advertisement accusing Israeli soldiers collectively of genocide, crimes against humanity and deliberately killing children advances some of the gravest allegations that can be made against any military. Those accusations concern living people, carry profound moral and legal implications, and inevitably affect the communities to which those individuals belong. They are plainly capable of causing deep distress and further polarising an already divided public debate.
If concern for community harm justified editorial restraint in October 2025, readers are entitled to understand how the same concern was assessed in this case (and the three before it).
Was the decisive factor simply the date? Was it the tone of the advertisements? Was it the evidential basis for the claims they contained? Has Stuff’s advocacy advertising policy changed since October? Or were different standards applied?
The simplest test
There is a straightforward way to test the principle.
The advertisement below has not been submitted to Stuff. It is a hypothetical advertisement created for the purposes of this article. Its point is not to advocate publication, but to reverse the direction of the argument.
Instead of accusing Israeli soldiers of genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes, it makes those accusations against Hamas. Instead of calling for sanctions against Israel, it calls for sanctions, boycott and divestment against Hamas.
Would Stuff publish it?
That question is not rhetorical in the sense that the answer should be assumed. Stuff may well say yes. If so, that would be useful evidence that its advertising standard is genuinely viewpoint-neutral.
But if the answer is no – if an advertisement using comparable language and imagery against Hamas would be regarded as too inflammatory, too distressing, too sweeping or otherwise inconsistent with Stuff’s advertising standards – then the obvious question is why those considerations did not prevent publication of the PSNA advertisement.
The test is not whether the two advertisements make equally true claims. Nor must every political advertisement have an ideological mirror image before it can be published. The test is narrower: are the same editorial standards applied when the target and political direction of the advocacy are reversed?
That is the question Stuff’s two decisions have made legitimate.
These are not trivial questions.
Every newspaper reserves the right to reject advertising. Responsible editors do so regularly. They decline material because it is misleading, defamatory, legally risky or inconsistent with editorial standards. Few readers would object to that discretion. Indeed, responsible journalism depends upon it.
What readers should also expect, however, is transparency.
When similar editorial questions appear to produce materially different outcomes, it is reasonable to ask how the governing principles were applied.
That is not an attack on editorial independence. It is an appeal for editorial transparency.
Editorial independence is strengthened, not weakened, when newspapers explain difficult decisions. Clear standards build public confidence. Standards that appear inconsistent invite readers to question whether those standards are being applied evenly.
Stuff has already explained why it believed editorial restraint was necessary in one case. It should now explain why the same restraint was unnecessary in the other.
The issue is not whether one supports Israel or Palestine. Nor is it whether one agrees with either advertisement. The issue is whether the same editorial principles are being applied regardless of whose message is being advanced.
Editorial standards are not tested by easy decisions. They are tested by controversial ones.
If there is a coherent principle connecting these two editorial decisions, Stuff should have no difficulty explaining it.
Until it does, readers are entitled to ask whether the newspaper’s published principles fully account for these two decisions – or whether, over time, one editorial standard has quietly become two.
This article was originally published by the Israel Institute of New Zealand.
