I recently I came across this YouTube video which shows an amateur photographer being arrested by the police for refusing to provide his name and address after photographing in the centre of a British town. Browsing through photography blogs, I often see posts on photographers’ rights and sadly these types of occurrences are more common than they ought to be.
It just so happens that on this particular day, I was also reading an article about Joel Meyerowitz, the street photographer, who campaigned resolutely to be allowed to photograph the ruins of the World Trade Centre in the aftermath of September 11th, 2001. Initially told by police officers that the area was a crime scene and off limits to photographers, Meyerowiztz argued “‘They can’t do this to us! This is history, and they have no right to take away our understanding of what’s going on in there!’” After appealing to the Museum of New York and the Mayor’s Office to be allowed to make a record of the site, and eventually forging documents to do so, Meyerowitz shot more than 8000 images over nine months, producing a vast archive of material that documents the cleanup efforts and is believed to be the only record of its kind.
I found myself thinking about this perception of photography as an activity that is somehow, suspicious and threatening, not to mention potentially grounds for arrest, and wondering how the world would be different today if Nick Ut had not been there to photograph Kim Phuc fleeing the napalm attacks in South Vietnam or Robert Capa had been prevented from photographing the loyalist militiaman being killed in the Spanish Civil War. How different would the world be if we had never seen photographs of Nazi atrocities in the concentration camps or torture at Abu Ghraib? How about if we’d never seen the lone man standing in front of the Tiananmen Square tanks, or the photographs of the death of Hector Pieterson, killed in the Soweto uprising?
Perhaps the events occurring in the centre of Accrington, in the runup to Christmas, were of little historical significance, but when we allow state institutions to ascertain what is worth recording and what is not, the potential for abuse is self evident.
And yet, there is no outcry from the general population. I will hazard a guess that those being photographed in Accrington town centre on that day, had they been asked, would not have been opposed to the photographer being harassed by the police in the name of the much misunderstood Section 44 of the Terrorism Act.
Perhaps we have been influenced by the ubiquity of celebrity culture and have begun to equate all photography with the paparazzi’s intrusive and relentless interest, conveniently forgetting that without our insatiable thirst for celebrity gossip, the industry would not exist. Perhaps we have been influenced by a feeling of unease around the proliferation of CCTV and the fact that our lives are often documented to keep us in compliance with laws that previously might not have been enforced to the letter.
I recently watched War Photographer, a documentary about photojournalist James Nachtwey. Although I am not a documentary photographer and I am far more interested in portraying fantasy than reality in my own photography, Nachtwey remains one of my photographic heroes. His focus and dedication to his craft is truly inspiring to anyone trying to follow their passion.
While watching the film I was particularly struck by the attitude of those being photographed. In the midst of horrific atrocities, they understood the importance of having these moments documented. They understood the power of the photographic image in bringing about change. And, in turn, Nachtwey afforded them tremendous respect and dignity and carried out his work with the commitment of one who has the ability to tell the stories that we may not want to see, that we may not want to believe, but the stories that we need to see. They did not want to be photographed in their grief and he did not want to photograph them but both understood that, without documentation, the event and all its injustices would not survive the indifference of history. And having the story survive to be told is at least the first step in trying to ensure that it does not happen again. This was not a moment of voyeurism or exploitation but a responsibility. “Every minute I was there, I wanted to flee. I did not want to see this. Would I cut and run, or would I deal with the responsibility of being there with a camera?”
Nachtwey was also “there with a camera” on September 11th 2001. You can hear his moving and eloquent account of his experience that day in this video in the Time Magazine “Beyond 9-11” archive. You can view his photographs of the day here and see for yourself how much they add to our understanding of the event. Not one of them feels exploitative, not even the image of firefighters carrying the broken body of their Chaplain from the rubble.
It saddens me that photography has become a source of suspicion and equated with the perpetration of violent acts, almost as if the recording of horrific events was somehow equivalent to being complicit in them. This begins gently in the streets of Accrington but it has a far more sinister ending. On the contrary, Photography is an innately creative activity, whether it’s providing an historical record of our times, or expressing an artist’s imaginative vision. Even the paparazzi are creating an archive of material that will document the early twenty first century obsession with the minutiae of celebrity lives.
It’s time to end the harassment and vilification of photographers, whether hobbyists practicing their skills in the local towns, or photojournalists risking their lives to provide evidence of injustice and suffering. It’s time to recognise the significance of the fact that what they are creating will form the basis of how future generations understand this moment in history. Do we really want to deprive them of understanding how we lived in 2011 because a few individuals arbitrarily decided that the material is not significant and must therefore be being collected for some clandestine means?