By: Fern Sidman

When German newspaper Bild, the country’s largest daily, published its investigation into the orchestration of imagery emerging from Gaza, it peeled back a curtain rarely acknowledged in mainstream discourse. The findings revealed that Hamas, the Iranian-backed Palestinian terrorist organization controlling Gaza, has perfected a dual strategy of war: rockets on the battlefield, and images in the global media. While the former targets Israel’s physical security, the latter targets its international legitimacy.

The Bild exposé centered on freelance photographer Anas Zayed Fteiha, a regular contributor to Turkey’s Anadolu news agency. While officially employed as a journalist, his social media output tells a different story. Posts of himself in combat gear, and slogans such as “Free Palestine” or “F*** Israel,” reveal him as an activist embedded in the conflict. His portfolio, meanwhile, provides Hamas with exactly what it needs: carefully staged images of rubble, weeping children, and despairing civilians. These images, in turn, are purchased for tens of thousands of dollars by Western outlets, recycled across headlines and television broadcasts.

The result is a striking imbalance. As Bild pointed out, photos showing Hamas fighters hoarding aid, or civilians receiving food distributions, rarely make it into circulation. Instead, audiences across Europe and North America are shown only images of suffering, never its context.

According to Bild and additional German outlets such as the Süddeutsche Zeitung (SZ), there is a reason for this asymmetry: no camera operates in Gaza without Hamas’s oversight.

Historian Gerhard Paul, a leading expert in visual culture, stated plainly: “In southern Gaza, Hamas controls 100% of visual output.” This control is not subtle. Photographers who fail to deliver imagery that aligns with Hamas’s objectives lose access—or worse, face physical intimidation. Hamas’s censorship apparatus ensures that only one narrative emerges: Palestinians as perpetual victims, Israel as the aggressor.

The parallels to earlier manipulations are striking. During the 2002 siege of Ramallah, Yasser Arafat famously staged himself by candlelight to appear as a besieged leader in darkness, only to switch back to bright lighting once cameras left. It was pure theater, designed for international audiences. Hamas has taken this model and industrialized it.

The images produced under Hamas’s supervision share common traits: devastated buildings, women wailing, and children covered in dust or blood. They are designed not to inform, but to provoke emotion. And in the digital era, outrage translates directly into clicks, shares, and revenue.

As Bild observed, these photographs are not cheap. International media houses pay premium prices for the most dramatic images. Editors understand that an image of a crying child beneath rubble will outperform a photo of a man unloading food supplies. Thus, the emotional economy of war photography aligns perfectly with Hamas’s propaganda goals.

This dynamic has historical precedents. In conflicts from Bosnia to Syria, staged photography has been used to sway international opinion. Yet Gaza represents perhaps the most controlled environment, where every image is curated under the shadow of an armed group.

One of the most troubling aspects highlighted by Bild is the role of Western news organizations. Outlets such as CNN, BBC, Stern, and Deutschlandfunk have repeatedly published imagery sourced from Gaza freelancers whose independence is, at best, questionable.

Reuters, one of the largest wire services in the world, defended itself by insisting that its photos meet “standards of accuracy and independence.” But as Bild pointed out, in a territory where Hamas monitors “every pixel,” such standards are aspirational rather than real.

Why do major outlets not disclose these constraints? Why do they not explicitly warn audiences that the imagery may be staged, or that photographers may have ties to Hamas? According to Bild, the answer lies in editorial convenience. Acknowledging Hamas’s control would undermine the “cherished victim-aggressor narrative” that underpins much of international coverage: Palestinians as helpless victims, Israel as the sole oppressor.

The Bild investigation framed the situation as a “double war”: rockets and attacks on the battlefield, and images on the world stage. In the latter, Hamas has already won significant victories.

Protests across European capitals and American campuses often cite imagery—photos of children in rubble, of funerals, of mass displacement—as the catalyst for outrage. Rarely is context supplied about Hamas embedding itself in civilian areas, or about aid being looted by fighters. The result is a powerful propaganda loop: Hamas engineers the conditions of suffering, photographers capture it under supervision, and Western media amplifies it uncritically.

The journalist Gerhard Paul likened this to “propaganda by proxy.” Hamas does not need to publish its own press releases; it simply ensures that sympathetic or compliant photographers produce the desired images, which then receive the credibility of Western mastheads.

Hamas’s manipulation of imagery builds on a long tradition of visual propaganda in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict.

Arafat’s Stagecraft (2002): During the IDF siege of his Ramallah compound, Arafat invited cameras to record him by candlelight, creating an image of heroic resistance. Within minutes, lights were restored, revealing the artifice.

The Jenin “Massacre” (2002): Reports of a massacre in Jenin, amplified by dramatic photos, were later debunked. Yet the imagery had already shaped international opinion, painting Israel as a perpetrator of atrocities.

The Al-Durrah Incident (2000): The iconic footage of Muhammad al-Durrah cowering behind his father became a symbol of Palestinian victimhood. Later investigations raised serious questions about the staging of the event, but by then the image had already become legend.

Hamas has refined these techniques for the 21st century. Unlike in the early 2000s, when independent verification was possible, today Gaza’s sealed borders ensure that only Hamas-approved visuals emerge.

As Bild emphasized, the consequences of this visual monopoly extend beyond headlines. International policy is shaped by public opinion, which in turn is shaped by media imagery.

Nations such as France, Canada, and even Australia have shifted toward recognizing a Palestinian state, citing humanitarian concerns amplified by visual coverage.

University demonstrations in the United States often use Hamas-sourced imagery as rallying tools, framing the conflict as a one-sided tragedy.

Cases at the International Criminal Court and International Court of Justice cite “evidence” drawn partly from media imagery, without scrutiny of its origins.

By failing to question Hamas’s control of imagery, Western outlets risk becoming unwitting participants in the group’s propaganda war.

The Bild report also pointed to the financial dynamics underpinning this system. Dramatic photos from Gaza can sell for tens of thousands of dollars. For freelancers in a war zone, the incentive is clear: capture the most shocking, Israel-blaming images, and global outlets will pay handsomely.

This dynamic not only distorts coverage but perpetuates dependence on Hamas. Freelancers who stray from the script risk losing both access and livelihood. The system thus self-reinforces: Hamas ensures control, photographers comply, and Western editors purchase the content to fuel their own traffic-driven models.

A question raised by Bild resonates deeply: why do other media organizations not conduct similar investigations? Why has Germany’s ARD not produced a documentary on Hamas’s control of imagery? Why has the BBC not disclosed that many of its “sources” are activists rather than neutral journalists?

The answer, according to Bild, is that acknowledging these realities would disrupt entrenched narratives. Western audiences are accustomed to seeing Palestinians as victims and Israelis as aggressors. Any admission that Hamas orchestrates suffering would complicate the story and risk alienating viewers, donors, or political constituencies.

The Bild report concluded that Hamas is waging a two-front war: one with rockets, another with images. While Israel has successfully defended itself militarily, the propaganda war has tilted global opinion sharply against it.

In this sense, Hamas’s most effective weapon may not be its arsenal of rockets but its arsenal of photographs. Each image of a crying child becomes a missile aimed at Israel’s international legitimacy. Each unchallenged photo spread by major outlets weakens Israel’s standing in global forums.

The revelations from Bild draw attention to the urgent need for greater media scrutiny. Journalists covering Gaza must disclose the constraints under which they operate. Editors must contextualize images, acknowledging that Hamas’s control makes neutrality impossible. And policymakers must understand that much of the “evidence” shaping international debates is filtered through Hamas’s propaganda lens.

The Bild exposé exposes a truth uncomfortable for many in the media: Hamas has already won the second war. By controlling imagery, it shapes global narratives, mobilizes protests, and pressures governments. Western outlets, whether knowingly or not, have become complicit in this strategy.

The challenge now is whether the international press will acknowledge its role—or whether it will continue to recycle Hamas-curated visuals, perpetuating a distorted view of the conflict.

As Bild put it, Hamas is fighting not just with rockets but with images. And in the war of images, it has already convinced half the world.