In Gaza there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Alan Johnston knew that. No one goes to Gaza for career advancement. It is not a route to the big black chair, to editor status or to “Scud Stud” glory, to six-figure publishers’ advances and your picture on the cover of a glossy book.

But still he went willingly into the increasingly dangerous Palestinian coastal strip to live among 1.3 million people and report their narrative to the world, knowing that some would be hostile to any foreign presence — or willing to exploit him — and that he could be seized at any time.

He did so because he is a professional journalist. It is what he does. He is good at it. And in a world of armchair punditry and backseat expertise he is out there providing the raw data and first-hand reporting upon which rests the huge inverted pyramid of the modern global media.

Reporting on the Middle East conflict is bad enough at the best of times — and these are not the best of times. At any given moment journalists are caught between two ruthless and highly armed adversaries who have no front lines. In Jaffa Street in Jerusalem or Izz al-Din al-Qassam Street in Gaza City, the front line can move invisibly toward you at the speed of a bus-bound Hamas suicide bomber or an Israeli helicopter missile.

In recent months the risk of being caught between the two historic foes has multiplied, as the Palestinians’ Gaza factions fight each other for control of a claustrophobic, coastal strip 40km by 8km, all but sealed off from the outside world by Israeli gunboats, F16s, tanks and soldiers.

In such a three-way conflict you can reduce the body of risk, but only a fool thinks you eliminate it. Alan is not a fool. He and the BBC chose not to go down the road of armed guards, making the calculation — presumably — that the risks of being killed in a shootout between inexpert gunmen high on panic and bravado are higher than those of a fatal outcome to the very scenario that now plays itself out. It is a legitimate calculation, in a place where there are no 100 per cent answers.

There are individual precautions you can take and Alan took all of them, indeed discussed them daily, if not hourly, with his bosses and other colleagues. Don’t follow the same routine, don’t advertise your movements in advance, don’t offend public morality in a religious society — especially Gaza, where alcohol, sexual indiscretions or casual blasphemy invite disapproval and worse.

Experience of conflict zones, which Alan has in abundance, makes you wary of that impulsive dash to the sound of a newsworthy bang without considering the consequences, the pitfalls, the risk/reward ratio of exposure on the streets in the more internecine neighbourhoods of Gaza.

But the moment came, as we all knew it could, and he was taken. Many will speculate about who and why, and many will have their own agendas for doing so.

From Day 1 attention has focused, rightly or wrongly, on one notorious Gaza clan with previous “form” thought to be holding him as a bargaining counter to secure their demands in a complex feud. But for outsiders to rehearse who, why and how helps little, and can prove hugely counter-productive if the speculation floats to the wrong ear, or worse still onto the airwaves.

Gaza is a political onion into which the most experienced correspondents may penetrate a few layers. Beyond that, the facts are buried centuries deep in a complex interplay of relationships fuelled by considerations of families, tribes, individuals, politics, finances, vendettas, rivalries and agendas that are impenetrable even to many West Bank Palestinians, never mind Arab outsiders — and least of all foreign outsiders.

Above all: do no harm. In this satellite television age, whoever is holding him is almost certainly watching today’s broadcasts, reading newspaper articles and may be provoked to anger by a wrong word here or there.

Outside Fallujah in April 2004, as my own Baathist captors served up chicken seasoned with menace and reassurances, my most fervent hope was that each time they left the room they wouldn’t return half an hour later infuriated by some glib besuited politician deciding that his law-and-order credentials would be boosted by spraying unhelpful words like “terrorist” and “criminal” around the airwaves.

Once you have built a relationship with your captors — as Alan with his local expertise and knowledge of Arabic almost certainly has — the last thing you want is that bubble, however fragile, to be burst from the outside. In such circumstances, facing a Kalashnikov and masked captor, your mind accelerates to 1,000 calculations a second. Say this, or that. Try this gambit, that negotiating tactic. If I jump through this car window will the fall kill me? Or is it better to take my chances with a handcuff and a radiator?

If they ask, am I religious? Or not? Is it better, if I am religious, to be Christian, or does that carry the connotation of “crusader”? If I say secular, is that incomprehensible to them? What do I think about Saddam Hussein, or Yassir Arafat?

And so on, for hours in my case, days in Alan’s. Whatever their motives, the abductors are already deep in a mindset that their grievances outweigh any considerations for the liberty of one foreigner in their midst. Yet they face general opprobrium, not least because Alan’s is a familiar face.

The abductors will by now be feeling the pressure. Hospitality in Arabic society is almost a sacrament. Everyone else in Gaza is profoundly embarrassed, ashamed and angry at them for bringing an unwelcome spotlight on to their fragmented, dysfunctional society.

There are levers of influence. Those who have spent a month trying to secure Alan's release have been working the splintered branches of the Palestinian Authority and power brokers inside, outside or half-inside it from Day 1. To what effect, it is impossible to tell.

At the outset one prominent Palestinian broker sighed: “This is going to be a long one.” He has, unfortunately, been proved right.

Stephen Farrell is The Times Middle East Correspondent. He has reported from Gaza before and after Alan Johnston’s abduction.

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