Workers at Oil Spill Cleanup, Oliobiri, Niger Delta
Photograph by Ed Kashi
Photographers shooting for National Geographic often explore controversial issues in their stories, and the magazine strives for balanced coverage that air all points of view. But in reporting a story there are times when photographers come across social injustices so shameful or environmental devastation so appalling that it's impossible not to take sides. Occasionally they go on to become forceful advocates for victims they've documented, long after publication.
Two recent NG Live! events for FotoWeek featured photographers Ed Kashi and Mattias Klum, both of whom persuasively use their images to incite their audiences to take action.
Rolling Stolen Gasoline to Market in Yenagoa, Bayelsa State, Niger Delta, 2006
Photograph by Ed Kashi
Ed Kashi
Ed Kashi's most recent book, Curse of the Black Gold: 50 Years of Oil in the Niger Delta (also a story for National Geographic), investigates the impact of oil production on the local population. At his talk, Ed stated up front that this was one of the most graphic examples of economic injustice he had ever witnessed. Why was the Niger Delta such a hellhole, when it should be as prosperous as Kuwait City? The delta has no running water, no education, and most puzzling of all, no electricity. How is it that the oil-producing heart of the world's sixth-largest oil supplier could have no electricity? Hundreds of dollars worth of oil are pumped out every day, but the lakes are so polluted that no one can fish anymore. Niger Delta oil brings in $2.2 million a day, while residents live on $1 a day. Ed admitted that when he began shooting the story, he blamed the oil companies, but came to find that the government was an even greater culprit. And as the US takes 50% of their oil, we're not blameless either.
Ed addressed the issue of objectivity. As he said, "We're taught about objectivity in journalism school. I think of it as searching for truth. Of course you try to report both sides. But there are times when you can't get both sides. [Many of the oil companies, for instance, refused even to reply to requests from Ed or the writer, Tom O'Neill, but they persisted until they won access.]. If I can maintain the dignity of my subjects, and get as close as I can to those truths, sometimes that's the best I can do. I take the journalist part as seriously as the photographer part. National Geographic goes to great lengths [to delve into all aspects of these controversial situations], but there are times when one side really needs to be told and I can see that that's my job."
Ed Kashi on assignment in the West Bank
Photograph by Ed Kashi
Ed also spoke directly about advocacy journalism, about the need to create work bigger than one story, bigger than your career or your ego. It's not enough to publish the work, even for a National Geographic audience of 30 or 40 million people, and walk away. He promotes the idea of using photographic coverage to raise awareness, and empower other advocates for your cause. He has partnered with academics, with experts in the field, to create toolkits for teachers and for activists, and to create websites with links spelling out what anyone can do to get involved. As he says, they can take the work that you've created and do something with it which could be very powerful.
Another intriguing aspect of last night's talk was Ed's deep involvement in multimedia. He has been one of the pioneers, often working closely with his wife, writer and producer Julie Winokur, and with MediaStorm founder Brian Storm. What he loves about multimedia is that it give his subjects a voice, so that viewers can hear their intonations and the way they express themselves. And of course there's no denying that moving images are powerful, too--in a multimedia piece about his father-in-law Herbie, I loved seeing a sequence in which Ed's daughter is breakdancing with Herbie and Herbie's caretaker. But while watching several of Ed's multimedia pieces, I couldn't help feeling that the stills within them are more lasting for me than the video. They seem to imprint directly onto my brain in a way that clips do not. And I can accept a much higher degree of stylization in a still image than I can in video, where attempts to be inventive often seem contrived or lame. But perhaps that's just the consequence of my coming from an older generation.
While Ed enjoys every form of information gathering, he says he doesn't want to be a one-man band. For economic reasons, newspapers are pushing their photographers to do it all--audio, video, stills. Ed calls these poor souls "multimedia ninjas," and when he sees them in the field, he wonders how they can do anything well. He's realized that still photography is his true passion, and that's what he remains dedicated to; he would rather work with a videographer than do it all himself. He worries that he and his multimedia colleagues are unwittingly destroying still photography's role in the media universe. But it's clear that he will embrace any tool with the power to inspire an audience to take up his causes.
Oil palm plantation, Sarawak
Photograph by Mattias Klum
Mattias Klum
When wildlife photographer Mattias Klum first went to Borneo 20 years ago, he assumed it would be a natural paradise. But he soon realized he had been harboring a fantasy.
Mattias has spent a combined total of almost four years in Borneo, and the rainforest has become something of a second home to him. He told us of the challenges of bringing 300 kilos of equipment into remote areas, and showed pictures of himself and his wife Monika relaxing 210 feet up in a fig tree. When talking about equipment, he advised that the most important thing to bring is a durable assistant, describing one recent companion from Sweden as "a leech magnet" whose legs were covered with leeches swollen to the size of golf balls as they turned him into a Swedish smorgasbord.
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