We Are Not Innocent

NOTES ON PHOTOJOURNALISM - by Magalí Druscovich


At a time when photography and photojournalism are under scrutiny as an art form and practice, photojournalist Magalí Druscovich questions the ethical and moral responsibility of the photographer to create humanizing work. She calls for the era of photography which lacks context, point of view, and consent to come to an end.

Photography is not innocent and it is not just a mere extension of sight. Each photograph is the result of the decisions we took and the knowledge we carry. The photograph may try to document reality, but it’s not reality; It’s a construction. To this builders’ task, we, as documentary photographers, dedicate our lives. So if I’m told that photography or photojournalism is dying, I do not accept that idea uncritically, instead, I go out, walk, observe, portray, reflect, and try to improve my craft.

Much is said and written about the “end of photography” or the structural changes therein. However, we should critically reflect on a type of documentary photography that does not get close, that does not ask or go deep; a practice that moves us further away from people instead of generating empathy and that believes it is innocent. What I believe should end are publications and posts on Facebook and Instagram from Argentinean photographers that show homeless people from afar, without their stories, without gazes, without names or ages; and with the photographer hidden or from close-up but hiding their camera. Why is the vision so superficial? Would the person bite you if you ask their name? Age? Why they are there? How much zoom do you have to use to take a picture of a young man coming out of a dumpster?

“There is nothing wrong with not making a photo. Not making a picture is also about respect. Not doing something is also a political (and ethical) decision.”

Personally, if I do not have time to stop, ask names, ages, learn their story and ask for permission, I do not make the photo. And there is nothing wrong with not making a photo. Not making a picture is also about respect. Not doing something is also a political (and ethical) decision. A man or woman may be homeless, but they also have dreams, desires, wishes, a first and last name. And that is what a documentary photograph should tell us, using whatever resource, symbolic or not, abstract or not, detailed or not. Do the photos of homeless people that are constantly circulating bring us closer or farther away from that reality? I think they move us away. They generate a visualization of poverty that does not communicate anything. It is a repeated, routinized figure, easy to ignore. It does not contribute new elements and only makes people even more vulnerable. Therefore, as builders of documentary images we must ask: What is our ethical and moral responsibility when we portray reality?

The solution, obviously, is not to stop making pictures of people in the streets. But what photos should we make? In an article published in May of this year by a renowned Argentine photographer, the author proposes the end of symbolic photography as opposed to "real" photography. The photos that illustrate the article to exemplify what is “real” are of homeless people with a caption stating only the date. What do those photos leave us with? What do they tell us about that person? Yes, they tell us about a reality in Argentina that we all know and see constantly, but, how do they contribute to the humanization of that person? I do not pretend that an average person who walks down Florida Street in Buenos Aires should stop and learn about Betty’s story, who has four children, was abandoned by her husband, and goes downtown every afternoons to panhandle because the office where she used to work as a janitor fired her because she was not allowed to go to work with her baby. But, I do expect a documentary photographer or journalist to stop and take the time to learn her story. And if you don't have time, but you want that portrait and tell that reality, you will know how to come back later.

“Do the photos of homeless people that are constantly circulating bring us closer or farther away from that reality?”

The daily practice of photojournalism finds the worker at the mercy of different moments to which different rules may apply. In each of them it’s the professional who assesses whether or not to raise their camera before asking permission, or asking permission before making photos. This is where the professional’s attitude will be decisive. But ethics should always be considered. I am calling out photography of homeless people as an example that should help us reflect on our own ethics and professional practice.

Humanizing a person takes more than a simple “click”. Reflecting without depth moves us further away instead of getting closer to the humanity of others. The anthropologist Clifford Geertz rebelled against the colonialist anthropology of his time and spoke of the need for "thick descriptions" of foreign cultures. He said that in order to truly understand a social group one must understand it in all its dimensions, not simply portray it, but describe it in all its density and “thickness”. The same is true for photography that seeks empathy and mobilization. The mere act of approaching an individual to ask their name and age does not humanize them, but it opens dialogue and initiates a real approach. Mexican photographer Lourdes Gorbet in her essay on photographing misery says: "It is not enough to have a social conscience to delve deeper into such a complex tragedy because the possibilities of dealing with the subject are so numerous that very different results are achieved."

To think about the end of a certain genre of art is to also think of the end of one's own art because we all need each others’ art. El Guernica depicts the horrors of war and it became a symbol of pacifism, and it is abstract. From that, we also learn. It’s true that making still-lives of pears to represent disappearances of citizens during dictatorship in Argentina is a class luxury. But making photos of misery without being empathetic, without creating a human connection, doesn't work either. We cannot be another link in the chain of vulnerability.

“Recognizing our privileges changes the way we approach our work and how we ask questions. Being conscious of our points of view makes us better photographers.”

Photographers start from a privileged position. Privilege implies responsibility. Furthermore, the privilege of being able to transmit and launch elements that frame and condition social debates into the public space. Recognizing our privileges changes the way we approach our work and how we ask questions. Being conscious of our points of view makes us better photographers.

We all need each others’ art, and I, personally, do not want any genre of photography to die. Instead, what I would like to see is the growth of documentary photography that connects me to the totality of others, without dehumanizing or taking away their stories.