As debate swirls about the Associated Press' decision to distribute images of a marine after he was mortally wounded by a rocket propelled grenade in Afghanistan, I'm torn. The embedded photographer waited until after the marine's family was notified of his death and after his memorial service. The photo was released in a tasteful, narrated audio slideshow with a 1,700-word print article and extensive journal entries from the photographer herself.
But when she showed the family the photo in advance, the marine's father told her not to publish it -- twice. Secretary of Defense Robert Gates wrote an impassioned letter imploring the AP to reconsider the image's publication, calling the decision to distribute it against the family's will "appalling" and a violation of human decency.
I don't know if I could do what photographer Julie Jacobson did, but after working at AP, I have a few thoughts.
1. This is not a TMZ image. This is not the kind of picture that some salacious news site driven by the gruesome, the scandalous, the sensational paid $50,000 for. TMZ finds a picture of a battered Rihanna and slaps it on its blog-style home page. Millions of fans flock to it to gawk at it, and TMZ is on the phone calling up advertisers: "So, you wanna put an ad for the lap-band on the right side of the Rihanna picture? Yeah, it's going to be ten times the standard rate." Cha-ching.
The AP does not get the advertising gains from photos like this. They get money from member media outlet subscribing to years' worth of stories. The money flow is so indirect that the photographer will never see a spike in her paycheck.
In any tragedy, paparazzi emerge from the woodwork with repulsive merchandise: A picture of Michael Jackson's lifeless body as it wheels through the E.R. doors. A photo of model Jasmine Fiore's body in a suitcase. No thank you.
By contrast, AP staff photographers gather images because it's their job. And they accept a meager salary whether they photograph a flower or a death in Fallujah. Money is not the motivation.
2. This is war. This is history. Most crime photos are beyond the realm of decency. I remember feeling sick when I opened a Costa Rican newspaper to see a row of bullet-riddled corpses after a drug war execution. It was gratuitous. Perhaps it showed a piece of the cold reality of criminal life, but more than anything, it made a great photo for page A2.
Wars like the one in Afghanistan are daily news. They're the subject of international diplomacy talks and will mark the pages of history to time immortal. This is no freak accident, no crime involving John Doe private citizen, but an official member of a delegation of taxpayer-funded, government-sanctioned armed forces.
As journalists, it is our ethical obligation to enlighten audiences with accurate accounts of historic events. Death is an inextricable piece in the puzzle of war, and we cannot turn a blind, oversensitized eye. We owe it to history and the millions of Americans tied to this war to tell the truth that they might make an appropriate decision in response.
At the same time, context is vital. The picture of Rihanna, or the picture of the drug war slayings, jilted the reader with little more than a shallow paragraph of context. With great images comes great responsibility, and I appreciate that the AP used every medium possible to reflect on the significance of the image and the significance of death in wartime. That treatment moves Americans forward.
3. Death is personal. I weigh the prior considerations with my strong conviction that death is the most intimate moment in a person's life. I hated the media circus directly after Michael Jackson's death because people forgot MJ was a person. We dehumanized him when it became more about a scoop than a tragic loss of life.
As the primary carriers of the marine's legacy, the family should have a say in these times of grief. His death affects no one so profoundly, pervasively and permanently as his family.
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At the end of that awful day, what Julie Jacobson had on her hands were images heavy with the gravity of history. She and the AP were forced to decide: publish or don't publish? I don't know there will ever be a right decision to that question because there are no right answers to the ages-old questions of war: Why this marine? Why is there suffering?
In war, and history, and journalistic ethics, we may never know peace
Few answers to questions of war ... and ethics of war photography
Sincerely,
Michelle
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Labels: The Life of a Journalist
2 comments:
over 46 american soldiers died in Afghanistan last month alone. 1 family denied permission to use their son's photo. History is being written every day and she chose the most disrespectful way to tell it.
The big question to me seems to be who owns the "rights" to that moment. As I mentioned in point 3, death is incredibly intimate -- the point of greatest vulnerability. When someone has died or is mortally wounded, is that moment and all record of it "property" of that person and their family? Is it too private for anyone else to share in?
Sec. Gates argues that publishing is against human decency and a violation of that individual's dignity. If that moment is sole property of the individual, then that's certainly true.
But are there moments when a journalistic imperative overrides that? Is there a greater end to telling that story that compels us to reveal that sacred, intimate moment?
Certainly this photo shows something absolutely rare. Many soldiers die; almost never is someone there to capture it on camera.
Was this one of those extraordinary cases in which the understanding that can come from this image supersedes the rules of thumb for sensitivity?
I think these extraordinary events can happen -- take Eddie Adams' "Saigon Execution."
The jury's still out on whether this was one of those events.
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