Even if you get them to admit that it was a kid with cerebral palsy, they’ll still say it doesn’t matter anyway. No one cares about the truth

The Truth Behind the Viral Gazan Famine Photo

A Gaza-based photographer captured a harrowing image of a sick child, Mohammed Zakariya Ayyoub al‑Matouq, on July 22, 2025, published next by Anadolu—and splashed on Daily Express on July 23. Global media (BBC, CNN, The Guardian, NYT, Times of London) swiftly adopted it as the face of famine in Gaza.

 

 

 

The Hidden Patient

 

Mohammed was born on December 23, 2023, with cerebral palsy, hypoxemia, and a likely autosomal‑recessive genetic disorder. He has required ongoing medical supplements and therapy since birth.

 

 

Wider unpublished images show his older brother in healthy condition—yet editorial cropping erased that visual context entirely.

 

 

 

Media’s Role in the Misfire

 

Major outlets reportedly learned of Mohammed’s medical condition during interviews, yet agreed to omit crucial information—allowing the image to carry a false narrative of mass hunger.

 

 

Collier frames this as clickbait: emotional impact over context, simplifying complex tragedy into a convenient political weapon.

 

 

 

The Political Turn

 

While severity of food insecurity in Gaza is real, Collier argues, it’s being conflated with a full-scale famine. This isn’t disputed hardship; it’s politicized storytelling.

 

 

He places blame largely on Hamas—accusing the group of diverting aid, monopolizing distribution, and manipulating tragedy for global optics. UN and NGO agencies, to him, are complicit in reinforcing Hamas’s narrative.

 

 

 

Why It Matters

 

This is a microcosm of broader issues: one image, stripped of nuance, becomes propaganda. Collier sees legacy media repeating tropes not to reveal truth, but to produce outrage.

 

 

It’s an indictment of journalistic failure—where primary testimony from the boy’s mother is recast into a political pawn.

 

 

 

 

 

Takeaway

 

Collier’s piece is not a denial of suffering—it’s a demand for precision. Mohammed’s condition is medical, not symbolic famine. But media simplified it into messaging that serves geopolitical narratives, not human complexity.

 

 

 

🧩 Suggested angles for structuring your blog:

 

1. Start with the image in circulation—its emotional heft, virality, symbolism.

 

 

2. Subvert it immediately—introduce who Mohammed really is (CP, genetic illness).

 

 

3. Dissect the means—cropped brother, omissions in interviews, rush to narrative.

 

 

4. Trace the political dimension—how famine fit the storyline more than context.

 

 

5. Elevate it—call this a moment of media moral collapse: decentralized tragedy made into a monolithic message.

 

 

 

 

 

If you want flash quotes or a rhetorical hook—Collier writes:

 

> “This isn’t journalism. This is the UK’s state media deliberately pushing a deceptive narrative…”

“Images of the tragic consequences … are being weaponised to build false global narratives.”

 

 

 

Worldview sluts (we change our world view like the weather as long as truth is involved but other people don’t have that intellectual resource and they’re probably better for it)Truth-Seeking as Identity vs. Truth-Resistance to protect Identity

 

Some people treat truth like a calling. Others treat it like a threat. And the difference between those two orientations—not just opinions, but deep cognitive styles—might be one of the most important and least understood divides in the way people engage with the world today.

 

For some of us, the pursuit of truth isn’t just a value—it’s the very structure of self. We’re not loyal to a particular belief system or ideology. In fact, we often shed them like skin. The worldview isn’t sacred; the act of seeking is. We can shift political views, religious frameworks, historical interpretations—sometimes daily—because our identity doesn’t reside in the beliefs themselves. It resides in a fierce commitment to following the truth wherever it leads. As long as we remain faithful to that pursuit, we don’t feel like we’ve betrayed ourselves. To others, that might look like intellectual instability. To us, it’s integrity.

 

But many people don’t live that way—not because they’re stupid or dishonest, but because for them, truth is functional. It supports identity, community, belonging. When new truths threaten that structure, the instinct isn’t curiosity—it’s protection. Not of the ego, necessarily, but of the whole architecture of meaning they live inside. These aren’t people who love lies. They’re people whose worldview is stitched into family, culture, pain, pride. For them, letting in the wrong fact at the wrong angle could unmake the whole. So they resist. Sometimes subtly, sometimes righteously. But always to preserve the self.

 

This is the real divide in so many impossible conversations—not left vs. right, not young vs. old. But whether truth is the house you live in, or the thing you’re willing to burn the house down for.

 

One seeks the truth to become who they are.

The other guards who they are by keeping certain truths at bay.

 

And if you’ve ever found yourself exhausted in a conversation that felt like two people speaking different languages, now you know—you probably were.