What Does it Mean to be an Ethical Photographer?

I have not always been an ethical photographer.

I’ve always poured over National Geographic Magazines and find myself especially attracted to portrait photography. I think portraiture is one of the most intimate forms of storytelling — someone letting you into their space, their life, sharing their face. As a lover of people I am especially entranced by a well taken portrait and have a stack full of bookmarked Nat Geos on the shelf of my childhood bedroom to prove it.

I think many of us can relate to the feeling of seeing a photo that strikes us. In a distinctly visual age, many of us are much more moved by imagery than writing, and whether you consider yourself a photography fiend or not I think we’ve all been inspired, aggravated, or made to feel something even by someone’s post on social media.

Quite frankly, I have an unfortunate history of pouring over beautiful photography, but not taking the time to actually read the article accompanying it. I would admire the often haunting portraits of refugees, the colorful dances and traditions photographed around the world, but too often I would flip through the articles instead of taking time to read the full stories. I think this is something we are all guilty of — not taking the time to recognize the time, effort, and connections that go into these photographs, and only noting the final product. Too often this results in all of us wanting to capture our own “Nat Geo Shot” without being mindful of the people and situations we are photographing.

How Photography Can Harm People

Steve McCurry’s Afghan girl, perhaps one of the most famous portraits of all time, is a prime example of how photography can do harm.

Sharbat Gula was a young girl in a Afghan refugee camp on the Afghanistan/Pakistan border when National Geographic photographer Steve McCurry entered the all-girls school where she was studying. A young girl of Pashtun culture, she was not permitted to show her face or make eye contact with a man who was not in her family. Regardless, McCurry moved her to a separate space to be photographed. In a second, less known portrait from the shoot, Gula is covering her face with her clothing and looking away from the camera.

The image we now most recognize, which graced the cover of the June 1985 issue of National Geographic, has been described as “haunting,” with the “fear of war reflected in her eyes.” Rather, the fear in young Gula’s eyes is based on discomfort and anger — a moment in her life documented and widely shared without her permission by a photographer who did not even bother to learn her name.

I want to tell you I have always been above this, that I have upheld the highest of photojournalism ethics in my time photographing the world. But that is simply not true.

A few years ago, I attended a tour hosted by my hostel in Siem Reap, Cambodia to the floating villages on Tonle Sap Lake. I am not usually a last minute tour traveler, but with one spot left and a friend already going along, I decided to tag along for the day. I knew little about the villages, or the tour company, before I arrived. This was a travel lesson learned the hard way.

Before I knew it, I was in the back of a blue boat rushing up the Siem Reap River towards Chong Khneas. The boat was filled with a handful of other tourists, all of whom eagerly snapped pictures as we meandered our way up the river. The banks were crowded with fishing boats and ramshackle houses and their inhabitants were clearly no strangers to visitors taking their photos. A few even threw up a peace sign as we passed.

At the end of the tour, the boat operators dropped us in a lake-side town on the banks of Tonle Sap. The residents of this town were similarly no strangers to passerby and smiled for the passing tourists. Others ignored us altogether, continuing their lives completely unfazed by the interruption.

One little boy stands out to me. He couldn’t have been more than three, with a round belly protruding over the waistband of his shorts and a brown clay bead hanging from a woven necklace around his neck. He stood alone in front of a house with a puzzled expression on his face. Quickly, members of the tour group gathered round, snapping his photo as he stood stoically and quizzically in place. I joined them, and when Little Boy looked directly into my camera I quickly snapped a photo, his curious expression captured forever in time.

I have thought about that little boy a number of times since that day. His story is unknown to me. I don’t know what became of him, I don’t even know his name. If photos are meant to tell stories, what story do I have to tell if I did not take the time to get to know the subject?

Furthermore, he is someone’s baby. He was a child, too young to consent even if we did speak the same language. I was a tourist, and a white, American tourist at that, in his space and invading his privacy. Is a photo really worth this intrusion?

My experience at Tonle Sap sticks with me. The unfazed nature with which the villagers posed for photos, used to their daily lives documented by strangers from around the world. The speed with which tourists rushed to capture whoever was posing best, the way in which we were encouraged to photograph people simply existing. There was no connection to the place, but rather lives put on display for the sake of tourism. I learned an important lesson that day, and while I cannot undo the photo that was taken, I can use that experience as a reminder to approach photography with more intentionality.

Photographing (and Posting) In the Digital Age

These days, we have to remember that photos aren’t private. We no longer live in an age of moments captured on film, developed for hours in darkrooms, and painstakingly reproduced every time a copy is issued. These days our photos are automatically backed up to our Google Photos and iClouds, sent to our friends and family and shared on social media for who knows who else.

There is power to social sharing. But there is also danger, and as we have seen far too many times, something going viral isn’t always a good thing. Especially when we are photographing in countries and cultures unfamiliar to us, we run the risk, even if unintentional, of crossing cultural boundaries or exposing situations that could put people in harms way.

I have put a lot of thought into this in recent years, especially with portraits of people. The conclusion that I believe I’ve come to is that portrait photography involves two levels of consent: first, to take the photo, and second, to share it. This involves a real conversation with the people you are photographing — but this is a good thing.

As a white, American woman with a big camera constantly strapped around my back, I recognize that I stand out in many places that I enjoy traveling to. My nationality is a privilege, but can also add an extra layer of challenge at times in getting to know people while I travel due to hesitancy as a result of the USA’s colonial actions, both past and present. I believe it is my responsibility as a photographer and traveler to ensure that I do not continue to cause harm through the places I travel and the work I create, and to demonstrate sincere kindness to those I meet around the world regardless of country relations.

This involves more intentionality behind the photos I take. Introducing myself to the people I hope to photograph — asking them questions and answering theirs as well. Showing genuine interest in their stories, participating in their cultures, purchasing the meals they have prepared. Not taking out my camera right away, but first getting to know who they are.

Finally, I explicitly say, “I’m a photographer. Would it be ok if I took your photo?” People won’t always say yes, but when they do I find my photos hold much more meaning. Now, when I look at the portraits I take, they remind me of a conversation that I had and a person I met. They represent unique travel memories that aren’t constructed for a tourist photo op and tell much deeper stories than they ever did before.

Ways to Practice Ethical Photography

Being an ethical photographer does not mean you have to avoid organized tours like the plague or stop taking photos altogether. Rather, it involves an extra step of caution and care, which will soon become second nature.

Here are just a few ways I’ve worked to become a more responsible photographer in my portrait and photojournalistic work:

Make Connections

Photography is an incredible means of connection. One of my favorite things to do when I land in a new place is to spend an entire afternoon exploring with my camera in hand, wandering alleyways and photographing street corners to get to know a place. I often find that by doing so, I connect with people and places I wouldn’t have otherwise. Whether wandering a local market or stopping in a small eatery, most people are receptive of genuine interest in their culture and are often more willing to be in a photo as a result.

Embrace Being a tourist… But don’t be that tourist.

Carrying around a camera (and often even snapping photos with your phone) is never going to make you blend in quite like a local. I spent far too many years determined to try and fit into a crowd while traveling and too often avoiding speaking to people as a result. It was only when I embraced being a traveler that I gained the courage to step outside of my comfort zone and form local connections. Yes, I’m not a local, and I’ll always be that goofy freckly-faced American, but I’ve found people all over the world appreciate being acknowledged even if I don’t share the same experiences. I embrace carrying my camera around now and have found that it even creates connections I wouldn’t have found otherwise.

All that said, please don’t be that tourist that is completely glued to their camera or smartphone. I too often see people hardly looking up from their cameras to acknowledge the world around them, or making risky decisions for the sake of a photo. Please don’t be that person.

Connect with Local Photographers

I love making photography friends while I travel. Connecting with local photographers who know the photography scene (and the rules and faux pas of the destination) is a great way to get authentic, meaningful photos when you travel and avoid offending locals in the process.

There are plenty of ways to meet photographers anywhere in the world. Sites like Flytographer allow you to book photographers worldwide, which is a great option for those who want to connect with locals but also gett some stunning vacation shots out of the process! I usually look for photo walks on sites like Meetup or Airbnb, which allow me to meet other traveling and local photographers. I’ve also made plenty of photography friends at hostels — trust me, get out your camera and you’ll be surprised how many people share a similar passion!

Practice Unique Portraiture

Ever since moving to Dubai, I’ve been learning to think about street and portrait photography in a new way due to the UAE’s strict photography laws. Following local street photographers was a great starting point for gaining inspiration and understanding how other photographers told stories while still abiding by the law. The result has been a whole new approach to portrait and street photography.

Portraiture doesn’t have to be a straightforward shot. While these types of photos are beautiful (as long as you’re granted permission) I’ve been practicing new ways to share a person’s story. Blurry subjects in the foreground with their environment in focus to show movement. More architectural photography with smaller subjects to demonstrate scale. Focusing on light, shadow, and perspective to create a unique shot while simultaneously protecting a person’s identity.

Share Photos with the People You Meet

Sharing photos with the people I’ve photographed is often my way of saying “thank you” for letting me take their portrait. My phone is filled with contacts labeled “Photo Guy Tbilisi” and “Guy from Street Corner Al Ain,” but the joy, and often friendships, I’ve made as a result of sharing my work with those featured is worth the storage space. I find that offering to send someone their photo makes people much more receptive of being photographed.

Research Tours Carefully

Unfortunately, many tours do exist with exploitation at the center. While tours can benefit local communities, there are also plenty of instances where tours exploit and harm, treating people like zoo animals or not paying mind to the customs of locals. Before booking a tour, research the company carefully and read reviews to find out what others have had to say. Make sure to look at the fine print before booking to find out whats included, and always be wary of tours that seem a little “too good to be true.”

Acknowledge Human Dignity

This last one seems like it should be common knowledge, but there is a long and challenging history of disregard for human dignity in the photojournalism world. Granted, we can always ask the question of when is the story or impact of a photo worth capturing human anguish. This is a loaded question that has been debated by photojournalists since it’s inception. A clear instance of this is the story of Kevin Carter, a South African photojournalist who captured the Pulitzer Prize winning “The Vulture and the Little Girl.” The striking photo of a starving Sudanese girl haunted him until his untimely suicide at age 33. Here’s an interesting article about Carter and his photography, but a content warning that some of the photos are quite graphic.

Obviously, this is a grey area. I cannot tell you when, where, and what to photograph, but I can remind you that as photographers, whether professional or hobby, we have a responsibility to acknowledge the human dignity of the instances we capture, no matter how different they are from our own experiences. We must remind ourselves with every shot that these are real people with real lives, stories, and feelings.

Lead By Example

Maybe you’ve read this and you’re thinking, “I’ve made some big photography mistakes.”

It’s ok. We all have.

As photographers we are constantly growing and evolving in our work. Part of this process is not only growing your skills, but developing our own ideas about how we may use our photography to make an impact. This looks different for everyone, but I urge you to consider, no matter your end goal with your work, to consider what it means to be an ethical photographer.

Don’t get hung up on your photography errors of the past. Instead, approach the world with a care for the world and the people in it — I promise your photos will only get better as a result.

Enjoy my photography? Check out my portfolio on Society 6 to purchase prints, or give me a follow on Instagram to see my latest work.

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