In 2008, a press conference in Baghdad was suddenly interrupted by an act that ignored every rule of international diplomacy. While President George W. Bush was at the podium describing the "successes" of the Iraq War, an Iraqi journalist named Muntadhar al-Zaidi stood up and threw—not one—but both of his shoes at him.
At the time, the President was speaking about "progress" and "hope." But to al-Zaidi—who had spent years reporting on the widows, the orphans, and the millions displaced—those words were an insult to the reality on the ground.
He later revealed that he had planned the move for months, waiting for the right moment to confront the man he held responsible for the occupation. He deliberately wore his oldest, dirtiest shoes, which he wore when he would visit sites destroyed by the invasion. He also admitted that he went into the room fully expecting to be killed. He chose a seat in the very back row specifically so that if security forces opened fire on him, no one sitting behind him would be hit.
In Arab culture, hitting someone with a shoe is the ultimate sign of disdain. It is a way of saying that the person is lower than the dirt on the soles of your feet. For al-Zaidi, this wasn’t an act of violence or terrorism. It was a deeply personal response to a man who had authorized the destruction of his country.
Western media often treated the moment as a strange, even humorous anecdote. But across the Middle East, it was a rare moment of catharsis — a regular man, on the geopolitical chessboard standing up and striking at one of the powerful players deciding his nation’s fate.
The aftermath was immediate. Al-Zaidi was tackled and dragged out of the room. During his detention, he testified that he was severely beaten and tortured by Iraqi security forces, resulting in a broken arm, broken ribs, and internal bleeding. He was eventually sentenced to three years in prison, which was later reduced to one year. In the end, he served nine months and was released early for good behavior. Yet through it all, he never apologized or backed down.
In an interview with Al Jazeera years later, al-Zaidi made it clear that he has no regrets. He said he couldn’t bear hearing a man speak of “progress” over the blood of his people and that the torture, imprisonment, and solitary confinement did not break him. For him, the highest price he paid was not the physical pain, but being blacklisted from working in the media. He has spent the years since his release fighting against corruption and continuing to stand for human rights.
Even now, he is often shunned by Iraqi news outlets that fear being associated with someone so vocally critical of U.S. influence.
Sometimes, when words fail to capture that pain or break through propaganda, people find other ways to make their voices heard. A shoe isn’t just a shoe. It can be a message louder than any speech.