Click. Death. Click. Blast. Click. Crash. Click.
Motaz Azaiza’s fingers were so busy capturing death and destruction in Gaza that his brain didn’t get the chance to reflect on the impact he was making. That is not to say he just winged it — only that he knew he had to do something for his people because the Western world would not. He knew what he was getting into, just like all the other journalists in Gaza, and although it did not align with his plan for himself, he continued to do it.
Today, he is followed by over 17 million people on Instagram and although he is only 25, his face says otherwise. In a candid interview with Muslim magazine, Azaiza reflected on the bittersweet irony of his success. “I reached billions of people, the truth reached billions of people, and nothing changed.”
Azaiza’s camera has captured the unspeakable — turning lenses on a genocide Western media hesitated to cover. His images, broadcast to millions around the world, have transformed the way people view the plight of Palestinians.
Azaiza never intended to be a photojournalist. For him, photography was initially a hobby — a way to capture beauty rather than destruction. “I just wanted to find my way to be a travel photographer, capture the beauty,” he explained, “and yeah, just find a life. That’s it. I’m not a hero. I can’t fly.” However, life in Gaza, marred by Israel’s ceaseless violence, made it impossible for him to ignore the devastation around him.
His journey with photography began at 15, taking pictures with his friend Mohammed, who was later killed by an Israeli sniper while waiting for a flour truck. “We were always taking pictures together, and he was always trying to avoid catching the war,” Azaiza recalled. “He just wanted to capture beauty. But unfortunately, the Israeli sniper was faster than him.”
That tragic loss was the first of many that reshaped Azaiza’s life — and his lens. His camera became a tool to document not just the destruction of infrastructure but the loss of lives, including friends and family. “In one day, I lost 25 family members and, just six hours before, I lost two close friends. They were twins. I spent hours trying to get them from under the rubble.”
Over the past year, as Gaza endured Israel’s intensified airstrikes and violence, Azaiza emerged as a critical source of news. Working for the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) and living within Gaza, he documented atrocities Western media often avoided, becoming a trusted figure for millions seeking the unfiltered truth.
After October 7, when Israel expanded its occupation of Gaza, foreign journalists were blocked from entry, making Azaiza’s work even more essential. “Nobody could just count on Western media,” he shared. “They [people] saw the truth through me, through other journalists on the ground, [through] Gazans themselves.”
He criticised the bias of mainstream reporting, saying, “It’s easy for [media] to cover from the Israeli side because Israel is controlling everything on the ground.”
Azaiza described the emotional and physical toll of being on the frontlines, saying that he often feared losing his faith amidst the horrors he witnessed. “To be honest, a lot of times I felt that I was going to lose my faith,” he admitted. “But my mum taught me that once it gets harder, you should stick to your faith and beliefs.”
Despite the immense danger he faced, including narrowly surviving an attack by an Israeli tank, Azaiza found comfort in his faith. “There was something from inside telling me that God will save me. I spent a lot of days scared, but God was there for me. Alhamdulillah.”
The trauma of documenting Israel’s relentless assault on his homeland has left Azaiza emotionally scarred. “Witnessing the loss of my relatives, family, and friends in front of my own eyes — yeah, this will change you. Maybe it’s changed me forever, I don’t know. But I’m not focusing on myself right now.”
Azaiza said that his purpose has shifted from capturing beauty to advocacy, as he feels the weight of responsibility to keep Gaza’s story alive. “I have a huge responsibility on my shoulders. I’m trying to respect this and be the voice for my people, so people can continue taking actions to stop the genocide.”
The harrowing experiences, however, have dimmed his passion for photography. “Until now, maybe I touch my camera a little bit. I don’t feel myself taking pictures anymore. I don’t have the passion again.” Yet, he remains hopeful that, one day, he might rekindle that passion. “I wish to just have the power to go back again. I’m a genocide survivor, and I’m now telling a story.”
Emphasising the importance of recognising the humanity of Palestinians, Azaiza said, “I don’t want the world to forget that we are humans. So we feel weak, we feel strong, we cry, we smile, we laugh, we dance. We are humans.”
Reflecting on the larger geopolitical situation, Azaiza rejected the notion that history is merely repeating itself. “It’s [been] happening for a long time and it’s still happening. It would have to have stopped somewhere to be repeating itself.”
He also expressed his frustration with people’s indifference. “Thank you for watching us being killed for almost a year in front of the cameras. And doing nothing.”
Now living outside of Gaza, Azaiza has shifted his focus to advocacy, hoping to make progress for his people. His photos have done more than just document war — they have exposed the truth of a genocide. Yet, for Azaiza, what’s important is that the world doesn’t turn a blind eye to the suffering of Palestinians.
“I reached billions of people,” he said, “the truth reached billions of people, and nothing changed. The last year took a toll on me in a way I couldn’t handle or even understand,” he admitted. “But I’m still here. And I’ll keep going.”
Cover photo: Muslim