Aline Manoukian: Documenting Conflict Through the Lens of War Photography
Aline Manoukian: The Witness Behind the Lens
In the annals of modern photojournalism, few names evoke a commitment to both truth and artistry like Aline Manoukian. A pioneering Lebanese-Armenian photographer and photo editor, Manoukian’s camera bore silent witness to some of the most harrowing moments of the Lebanese Civil War and the Middle East’s enduring conflicts. Her iconic 1988 image of a Palestinian militiaman tenderly holding a white kitten in Burj Al Barajneh refugee camp remains etched into collective memory, often reappearing across mediums, from art posters to social media—sometimes even in altered forms. But who is the woman behind the lens?
Early Life and Artistic Awakening
Born and raised in Beirut, Lebanon, Aline Manoukian was introduced to art not through formal education but through her sister, Seta Manoukian, a revered painter and spiritual figure in her own right. Seta’s international art background and stacks of European art books provided Aline with an informal yet formative art education. Spending hours poring over these books as a child, Aline gradually cultivated an eye for light, composition, and emotional depth—skills that would later define her photographic voice.
Her journey with photography took a pivotal turn during her student years in Los Angeles at Pierce College. It was there she discovered the work of Italian photographer Mario Giacomelli. A particular photo, monks dancing in snow, left such a deep impression that she committed what she calls a foolish crime: tearing the page from a library book to hang it on her wall. It was more than an act of admiration—it was a declaration of artistic calling.
War, Cameras, and Serendipity
Armed first with a Nikon FM2 gifted by her sister, which was soon rendered incomplete after the lens was stolen, Manoukian’s professional career began in a most unconventional manner. Rather than decline a dangerous assignment to southern Lebanon when she had no lens, she attended anyway, borrowing lenses from other photographers and successfully completing her task. It marked the beginning of her gritty and improvisational approach to journalism.
Her break came at age 19 when her photos from a besieged Beirut neighborhood—taken during a risky Red Cross mission to deliver bread—impressed editors at the Daily Star. Within a year, she was working with international wires like UPI and Reuters, eventually rising to bureau chief.
In conflict zones dominated by male photojournalists, Manoukian often stood apart, not just because of her gender, but because of her introspective style. Driven more by instinct and humanity than calculated sensationalism, her images told stories that blended tenderness, tragedy, and resilience. She refused early unethical “advice” from some in the field—like staging emotional reactions to tragedy—and instead followed an intuitive, observational method.
The Iconic Image: Guerrilla Kitten
Among the many images she captured, none has drawn more attention than the compassionate, surreal photo of a bearded militiaman gently cradling a kitten amid the concrete misery of a refugee camp. It’s a moment of softness in a world torn by violence—a symbol with contradictory layers. For Manoukian, the photo is her “iconic image.” While its popularity doesn’t bother her, she recognizes its bittersweet symbolism: a picture that lives a life beyond her control.
Transition to Editing
Though she no longer practices photography in the field, Manoukian channeled her visual expertise into photo editing, a role she sees as both powerful and underappreciated. As an editor, she shaped which images reached the public, deciphered the delicate balance between aesthetics and newsworthiness, and helped elevate other photographers’ work. Yet, she notes, editors often remain invisible behind the awards and accolades that photographers receive.
Exile and Identity
Manoukian’s life echoes with themes of displacement and belonging. Though born in Lebanon, she has spent decades abroad—first in Los Angeles, then in France, and now in Nicosia, Cyprus. Being uprooted so often has made her question her identity. “Roots end up drying out if they’re not watered,” she laments, expressing uncertainty about what, if anything, constitutes home.
In the wake of new regional conflicts—such as the recent violence in Gaza—she admits old traumas resurface. “They revive everything,” she confesses. “You feel something physical, as if your cells are rotting.” Her coping mechanism? A conscious act of denial—a survival instinct honed over years of bearing witness to suffering.
A Legacy of Seeing
Aline Manoukian’s body of work is more than just a chronicle of war; it is a meditation on empathy, memory, and truth. Her photographs, whether documenting bombed streets or moments of unexpected gentleness, challenge the boundary between horror and humanity. She defied both cultural and professional expectations, becoming a trailblazer in a male-dominated field