By Derek Smith

The truth is many a thing. It’s question-proof or, rather, able to flawlessly satiate any questions about it. It’s stark and overshadowing at times. At others, it’s deceptively simple. The truth contains horrors, images and instances of transcendent attractiveness and, at an atomic level, is inextricably related to the concepts of love and beauty (those shameless reflections of the truth).

But for Moez Masoud, a self-proclaimed activist, philosopher, musician, and guitar player, the truth is something more.

“Truth is inconvenient—it disrupts narratives, challenges power structures, and forces people to confront uncomfortable realities,” Moez reflected. “That’s why resistance happens.”

The resistance Moez characterized is both inspired by his artistry and activism and, on the other hand, an unflinching catalyst for them. It’s embodied in numerous facets of his work. As an activist and philosopher, he has spoken at multiple global conferences dedicated to some of the world’s most pressing issues for human rights and humanity. His oration has graced the halls of the World Economic Forum’s Annual Meeting in Davos, Switzerland. It’s reverberated throughout the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) Dialogue in Geneva. He’s also addressed the Council of Europe’s first World Forum for Democracy.

His energy is also palpable in various facets of film. A 2019 picture he produced, CLASH, debuted at the famed Cannes Film Festival. Another release, AMIRA, first graced audiences at the Venice Film Festival.

“Other than music, I work in film and philosophy, and for me, it’s all the same thing: storytelling, meaning-making, truth-seeking,” Masoud intoned. “Whether it’s a song, a documentary, a TV show, or a film, it all comes down to capturing something real and putting it out into the world in a way that resonates. I don’t really think of them as separate. Music, academia, media, activism—to me they’re all different ways of communicating.”

As a means of communicating, Masoud’s music is quite possibly the most immediate—if not direct—means of channeling the man’s thoughts, emotions, and precepts about some of the most pressing societal issues of our times. Moreover, he’s likely been involved in it longer than he has some of his other creative and professional outlets. Initially, his affinity began with an appreciation of the art form, which is far from atypical for musicians.

However, as a resident of Cairo, Egypt, Masoud might surprise some with recollections of his early influences.

“It started with Pearl Jam, Metallica, and Pink Floyd—those bands shaped the way I understood music,” he recalled. “When I was 15, my mom bought me a guitar, and that was it. I started playing, writing, and experimenting with sound. But I never saw music as a career—not in the conventional sense. It was always there, running parallel to everything else I was doing. Even now, I don’t force it into a commercial framework. I make music because I have something to say, and when the moment is right, I release it.”

His latest musical creation, “Here to Stay”, is timeless in its depiction of the genocidal themes evinced in the seemingly interminable conflict occurring in what many term the Holy Land.

“Here to Stay” is actually quite representative of my work in terms of [the] message, urgency, and emotional depth,” Masoud acknowledged. “That being said, I don’t make music on a schedule. I write and record when I need to, when something demands to be expressed through music rather than any other medium. That’s why I don’t release as often as conventional artists do—because for me, it’s not about the industry. It’s about being real, being present in whatever I’m doing at that moment, whether it’s writing a song, filming a show, or speaking at an event.”

And, on occasion, the confluence of these distinct energies, channeled through one man via respective mediums, manifests in a single engagement apposite to each of Masoud’s undertakings. Such was the case with his address to the United Nations.

“The UNHCR invitation came because of my work at the intersection of media, philosophy, and humanitarian efforts,” Masoud asserted. “I’ve always tried to use my platform to amplify voices that are often ignored, whether through music, film, or public discourse. It’s one thing to talk about displacement and injustice from a distance—it’s another to be in a room where policy, activism, and real human stories converge. Moments like that reinforce why I do what I do, why I keep pushing forward despite the resistance.”