The Ethics of Photojournalism

Tonight at Columbia University School of Social Work, the Open Society Institute sponsored a panel discussion Witness: Photographers, Journalists and Social Workers Respond to Tragedy. The aspect that interested me most centered on the photojournalism work of Donna DeCesare. Her work is the opposite of sensational. It is deep, profoundly moving, and collaborative with her subjects.

The discussion was connected to "Moving Walls 12," an exhibition that includes DeCesare's work called "Shared Secrets: Children's Portraits Exposing Stigma" at the School of Social Work. Click here to view the images. Be prepared: they are powerful without being exploitative. The discussion tonight explored why when viewing these images we don't feel voyeuristic.

With the images of Mumbai still fresh in our minds, the discussion of collaboration between the photojournalist and the subject was intriguing. There was no time for collaboration, of course, as the attacks in Mumbai unfolded. However, as you recall, throughout the seige at the hotels, CNN and the other cable news shows were showing the same bloody images over and over again, without any time context. There was no way to really understand if the worst was over yet, how individuals were faring, or even to get a coherent story from the visuals.

That isn't the kind of work that DeCesare does. She works with communities of people; the Shared Secrets exhibit is centered in Latin America, in Guatemala and Colombia, where because she speaks Spanish, although not as a first language, she gets to know the subjects she wants to shoot, so that the eventual images are contrived to protect the wounds or even the identity of these individuals while still conveying their vulnerability and persona. As she went through the images, she explained how she shot one young girl who had lost part of her leg fighting in Colombia through the veil of her own hair. How another young man had asked her to shoot him through a curtain to preserve his anonymity.

These are not "set up" shots meant to convey a false sense of reality. They are narrative in nature and with each, DeCesare has an accompanying story. How is this different from the shots of a war correspondent? How is this different from the recent Mumbai coverage? It's not meant to shock. It's meant to connect--human to human.

Coming Home

After a walking tour of Old Town, including the Municipal Palace and the Cubist House of the Black Madonna, we dressed and celebrated Thanksgiving at Villa Richter, at the far side of Prague Castle. This meal was up there as one of the best I've ever eaten. The chef de cuisine is Petr Hajny, he is very young, doesn't speak any English, but has a future. Watch for his name! The restaurant is in a remodeled vineyard that was part of the St. Wenceslas Vineyard and has only recently been reopened. Grapes have been grown here since 1375, and like many properties in the Czech Republic, this one was confiscated after the Second World War because it was owned by German nationals, then used for government offices by the Communists. The Czech government began restoration in the 1990s.

The views are magnificent, the restaurant is quiet and divided into several rooms which assured privacy, and the food was delicate, complex, aesthetically pleasing, and perfectly plated. I started with a fresh crab salad served with corn mousse that was light and flavorful as well as complex in the textures of the strings of crab against the smoothness of the mousse. Others had the veal cheeks with a stock reduction that was velvety and intense. For the main dish I had turbot with a celery cream on top that was light yet richly infused with the taste of celery. My husband had pork belly with another completely different stock reduction, other folks had duck and monk fish.

The restaurant has various cousins on the property that are open during the high season, but this elegant and expensive place should be reserved for high holidays like Thanksgiving and romantic anniversaries.

After a week in Prague I knew I didn't really know the city well. It was only as we were leaving that we drove through the Soviet-era styled apartment complexes where poor and working people live. Although that section of town is clean, it clearly is poor, without any of the aesthetics of Old Town or New Town. There aren't any stores nearby either, making living there more difficult without immediate access to grocery stores and the wares of daily life.

Prague has a public transportation system--Metro, Trams, and buses--that operates on a near honor system. One purchases a ticket and without going through a turn stile, one enters the Metro, Tram, or bus without ever having to show it. There are machines to run the ticket through on the way into the Metro and on the Trams and buses, but there is no one to assure that no one is getting a free ride. Imagine that working in New York!

It is not easy to get to know a Czech person. The only real contact we had was with Ivana, our knowledgeable guide who took us to Terezin, the Jewish Quarter, and on our last day's walking tour. She attended university during Communism and spoke with some hesitation about her life as it has changed so radically over the last twenty years. I met an Israeli man who has lived in Prague for seven years and loved it better before it became so cosmopolitan, so sophisticated. He liked it better when it was a hidden gem.

Of course, the last two days were consumed with images of the seiges in Mumbai where unknown gunmen attacked two hotels, the train station, a Chabad, a hospital, and several other locations. We understood how safe we felt in Prague. There is little visible security, some armed police patroling, but no army presence anywhere near the city or the airport.

Nine hours in the air and now I'm home, doing laundry, delivering clothing to the dry cleaners, going through the piles of mail, and longing for the next adventure.