Update | 4:00 p.m., Monday, Feb. 8: The following post, written by The Times’s international picture editor, raises engaging, important and contentious questions. And, frankly, it has touched more than one nerve. Ron Haviv of the VII agency and Christopher Anderson of Magnum sought a chance to elaborate publicly on their quoted remarks. And Damon Winter, one of five photographers who were working in Haiti on assignment from The Times, also thought there was more to be said on the subject. We welcome their essays, which will be found at the end of the post. We believe they’ll broaden this already vital discussion.



Original post | Photographers from across the globe descended on Haiti last month after the earthquake. As the death toll grew, more photographers arrived — some with a deep history of working in Haiti or in conflict zones, some with neither. Some photographers were sent on assignment, supported by the budgets of large news organizations. Some went on their own dime.

Rodrigo Abd/Associated Press

At one point there were almost certainly too many photographers in Haiti. But which point?

This question is scarcely new. It attends every war, every conflict; each famine, disaster and political upheaval.

“I think it goes without saying that I believe it important that photographers are there to document the event,” said Uriel Sinai, a photographer for Getty Images, who was there.

Few would disagree. But the scope of coverage in Haiti seems to exist on a different scale. Ron Haviv of the VII agency said that in times of crisis, Haiti is a “haven for photographers.”

“Amazing story, people and images are there,” said Mr. Haviv, who has been traveling to Haiti for 20 years and made pictures there after the earthquake. “Being so accessible and inexpensive has always led to an abundance — and sometimes overabundance — of photographers during the various coups, insurrections and natural disasters. Quite often during these times, it was normal for three to six photographers, plus the occasional TV crew, to be all working the same scene.”

Mr. Sinai acknowledged that “it feels awkward when you get to a scene of violence, tragedy, or chaos, et cetera, and there are more photographers around a subject than there are even people at the scene.”

“When you are there in the moment, and there are photographers crawling all over the place, it simply feels weird,” he said.

It’s worth noting that in troubled areas around the world — not just Haiti — numerous photographers often are in the same place at the same time, frequently traveling there together.

“First and foremost, it’s an issue of safety,” said David Gilkey, a photographer for National Public Radio. But he does not see this as an impediment to good coverage. “Even though you are traveling with another photographer, you are almost never duplicating each other’s work,” Mr. Gilkey said. “While two people may be looking at the same thing, they’re seeing it in different ways.”

More than a dozen photographers covered the landing of U.S. troops at the ruined National Palace on Jan. 19. The scene recalled a photograph by Alex Webb of American soldiers landing on the beach in Haiti in 1994, facing what looked like a battery of news photographers. This year, many photographers were drawn to a statue, untouched by the earthquake, standing solemnly amid the destruction. Besides those in the slide show, other versions were taken by James Nachtwey, Charles Ommanney and Riccardo Venturi.

There is no question a tragedy of this magnitude demands a thousand eyes or even more. But do they all have to be staring at the same thing? When does redundant become intrusive?

Carl Juste/The Miami Herald (Associated Press)

Some photographers drew the line at themselves. Despite having worked in Haiti many times, for instance, Christopher Anderson of Magnum decided to avoid the earthquake and its immediate aftermath. “I have never felt comfortable covering natural disasters,” he said.

Wars and other types of human-made tragedies are different. There are questions of right and wrong, justice and injustice, political complications, et cetera. I feel like my voice as an observer has a purpose. But with an earthquake or tsunami, I don’t have a purpose. There is no need for explanation or contemplation. There is only the immediate need for the news photographers to go and report what has happened. I am not a news photographer. I would just be composing pictures of misery. Not to mention being another mouth to feed and another camera in the face of someone who has just lost everything. In the days and weeks immediately after something like this, all that matters is that the news pictures help drive a response of aid. I didn’t feel like there was anything I could add to that. They didn’t need me getting in the way.

Paradoxically, the question could soon become: are there enough photographers covering Haiti?

As celebrity television journalists begin to leave and the spotlight on Haiti dims, photography, in many ways, becomes even more crucial. Lynsey Addario, who arrives in Haiti Thursday on assignment for The New York Times, said she felt conflict about not going just after the earthquake struck. But she realized that important stories will need to be told as the recovery continues.

“While the first phase of the Haiti story is coming to an end, there is a whole new stage of people moving on with their lives, and trying to rebuild what they can in a totally shattered psychological and physical infrastructure,” Ms. Addario said. “I sometimes feel I can be a more effective photographer, and do more in-depth coverage, if I do spend more time on stories without the ‘pack’, and choose subjects that I feel are lacking coverage.”

“There will be many quiet, important features to do.”



Ron Haviv

The photographic community has been debating within itself how best to cover the story and help the Haitian people through our work. The conversations have ranged from “No one should go with just a camera — one should bring shovels and first aid as well” to “No photographer should go without a guaranteed commitment from a publication” — thereby meaning freelancers shouldn’t go.

Other issues, such as “A photographer will be taking food/water and sleeping quarters from the displaced” to “How dare anyone go, since photographers are paid and therefore we would be exploiting people’s suffering for our own benefit?” have been discussed as well.

These are all interesting conversations to have. Some have moved into the public realm, such as the piece debating whether there are too many photographers covering a story and where is the line drawn between respect for the subject and the need to document.

I am of the belief that in our world of fragmented media, it is important for photographers such as myself to go to the field and document and communicate with the world what is happening.

There will be times when there is more than one camera in a certain scene. When someone is shown the scene of photographers surrounding someone in turmoil, an obvious reaction can be one of revulsion. While I have no qualms about people seeing how we work, if one were to look at the images that those photographers had taken, the reaction would be quite different; one, hopefully, of a connection with the subject by the viewer.

All of these questions have come up as I have worked in Haiti and other places. Over the years, Haiti has always been known in times of news as a haven for photographers. An amazing story, people and images are there. Being so accessible and inexpensive, Haiti has always had an abundance — and sometimes overabundance — of photographers during the various coups, insurrections and natural disasters.

Quite often during these times, it was normal for three to six photographers, plus the occasional TV crew, to be all working the same scene. Even during the U.S. “invasion” [in 1994], there were multiple numbers of journalists crowded into small areas.

What I found remarkable about being in Haiti after the earthquake was how few times I saw other journalists, aside from those I was sharing my vehicle with. I knew that there were more journalists on the ground in Haiti than probably ever before, because we would see each other at various hotels when we would file our images. But in the field, I saw them only occasionally and that was most often when there was a large fire in conjunction with looting and the smoke — seen from around the city — served as a signal.

When thinking why this was so, it was sobering. The destruction in the capital and the outlying regions was so great, and the effect on the population so far reaching, that we all had our work to do. It was rarely necessary for us to be in the same place en masse because everywhere you turned there was a story to tell.



Damon Winter

As the post concludes: yes, we should be asking ourselves if there are enough journalists there, not too many.

I agree with Ron Haviv that the magnitude of the disaster and subsequent story is so enormous that it is impossible for any one photographer or dozen or 50 to adequately portray it.

For the first two weeks in Haiti, I never once ran into my colleague Michael Appleton, even though we did not coordinate what we were planning to cover on any given day. I would estimate that 80 percent of the pictures I made were in situations where I was the only photographer around, aside from the other journalists sharing the same vehicle and translator. This is a much higher percentage than when I am working in New York, where any fire, murder scene or high-profile perp walk attracts dozens and dozens of photographers, reporters and television journalists.

There were nowhere near as many photographers in Haiti as there were in New York covering the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. Haiti’s proximity to the United States — and our relationship and history with that nation — made the disaster very relevant to our readership and relatively accessible to journalists. Perhaps it was more thoroughly covered than recent disasters like the earthquake in Pakistan or the tsunami in Indonesia, but I think this is more a question of not enough attention there, rather than too much in Haiti.

I shared a plane with Mr. Haviv from New York to Santo Domingo early in the morning of Wednesday, Jan. 13. I remember him looking around the waiting room and saying that if this had happened 10 or even five years ago, the plane would have been filled with freelance photographers on their way to cover the earthquake.

But this is 2010, and the industry and the state of photojournalism cannot support that flood of imagery. There are fewer eyes on the ground now; fewer witnesses, not more. And that, to me, is a sad thing.

For two weeks, I looked over the shoulders of other photographers who would come back with images that were completely different than mine, that told different stories; stories that I would never have seen — even being there from the beginning — were it not for their work.

I cannot speak for the intentions of all the photographers who went to Haiti. I myself was asked and subsequently assigned to go by Patrick Witty, The Times’s international picture editor and the author of this post. Many others went with an assignment from a newspaper or magazine, some with assignments from N.G.O.’s or relief groups wanting to document their role in the recovery. Some went on their own. Of those who went on their own, I am sure that the intentions were mixed. But for the most part, I believe it was because those people believe in what they do, in their chosen profession and their need to inform the world through their photography.

There are very few staff positions left in this industry and not everyone has the luxury to go on a paid assignment. The work that someone like myself or another newspaper photographer may produce is closely tied to the work that is done by the newspaper as a whole. Independent photojournalists have more freedom to look in different places, to pursue stories that are longer and more in-depth, to focus on a particular person or issue to which they are drawn. We each have our role to play and all of those roles, when added together, are the only way a story like this can be truly covered.

I remember photographing a young man who had been apprehended by the Haitian National Police and accused of looting from the ruins of the Ministry of the Interior. I was the only journalist to watch as he was dragged from the rubble of the building, kicked, stepped on and made to crawl on his stomach in front of a crowd of angry bystanders. I took photos as police removed a tangle of computer cables from the building and planted them on him as they accused him of stealing computer equipment. He pleaded with them, saying that he was just looking through the rubble for building materials to make a shelter, as many people were doing across the city.

People stood by powerless. I photographed the young man as he cried in the back of the police truck, handcuffed to another man. He called my translator over and thanked us and thanked God that we were there to witness this, because otherwise he feared they would have beaten him — or worse. My translator was able to tell the U.N. investigator what happened when he arrived on the scene.

I was reminded that day how important our presence alone can be.

On the other hand, on several occasions I was forced to walk away from situations that were flooded with journalists and I found it beyond my personal limits to participate.

For instance, the funeral of Archbishop Joseph Serge Miot was the first real public event since the earthquake and the first real chance for expression of public grief. All the photographers were gathered for the first time in one place, at a small and solemn affair in the courtyard of the ruined national cathedral. Some very prominent photographers worked their way into the ceremony so that they were practically on top of the casket. Others were within inches of the grieving family. All rules of decorum seemed to go out the window. I decided that I didn’t want to be a part of that, and made my way out of the ceremony, instead spending time observing mourners on the periphery. After the ceremony, the funeral procession was impeded by the mob of photographers as it tried to make its way to the cemetery for the burial. I did not follow.

On the day before I left Haiti, press releases were circulating about a memorial service in Titanyen, the site of the mass graves for thousands of victims. After photographing the first few mourners arriving at this dusty field on a rural hillside — pictures that seemed quiet, poignant and reverent — I quickly realized that the event was more of a political rally for supporters of the ousted former President Jean-Bertrand Aristide than a sincere forum for Haitians to grieve for their lost. In a tasteless and despicable display, the supporters had used a decomposed human body as a prop for their event, placing it conveniently near an open but empty grave alongside a neat pile of fresh building rubble. The body was to be lifted by a bulldozer and dropped into the ground later for maximum effect. Photographers swarmed around the corpse, trying to make a picture, without asking themselves why it was there and why they were making that image. I wanted no part of this and I left 10 minutes into the ceremony.

These, of course, are questions more of how we choose to conduct ourselves and of how we think critically about what we are seeing when we’re out covering a story. These are the same questions we face on every assignment, in every corner of the globe.

The fact remains that we need to be there.

The notion that photographers took resources from people who needed them is absolutely unfounded. Anyone who covered the earthquake knows that there was food in Haiti. There was food in the markets and vendors sold food on every street corner. The problem is that people have no money. They have lost everything and can no longer afford to provide for themselves and their families. For the first few days, I would argue that the only money coming into Haiti was from journalists. We consumed food; we hired local journalists, drivers and translators; and we sought shelter in local hotels, which continued to employ large staffs, all of which we paid for. No resources were lost or denied because of our presence. To suggest this is naïve and irresponsible.

As to the image of the statue: Ken Jarecke made the argument eloquently in comment No. 21. Perhaps I can add some thoughts from my experience. [Mr. Winter’s is the fifth picture in the slide show.]

My own favorite photograph from this scene was not of the statue, but rather of a man dutifully sweeping the sidewalk in front of his shop — almost oblivious to the massive fire burning in the background — continuing on with life in the face of such destruction. Many other photographers were drawn to the scene around the statute. If I had decided that I didn’t need to look because they already had the situation covered, I would have missed that very telling image of the shopkeeper.

So, yes, I chose to look where others had already. It is a choice we face almost every day, both in places like Haiti and in our own backyards. There is very little new in photography, very little that hasn’t been done before. But we must still keep looking, observing, exploring and pushing the shutter button. It is the very heart of what we do.



Christopher Anderson

To friends and colleagues who covered the Haiti earthquake, let me clarify my comments.

Some readers and responders, taking what I said out of context, viewed it as a criticism of those who covered this story. In fact, I defend the need for multiple photographers on the ground. The part that was published on this blog was an insight into my own personal thought process when weighing whether or not to jump on a plane. I believe that if one reads carefully what I said, it is clear that I am not criticizing anyone’s decision to go.

When I say that I worry I might be “another mouth to feed,” I do not mean to suggest that any of you prevented someone else from eating. I was speaking more metaphorically about wondering whether I would just be in the way, or able to contribute something because of my presence.

I regret that this sentiment might have contributed to an idea that any Haitian went without food or water because of the presence of even one single journalist. It should be said for the record — as Damon Winter did — that this is simply not how things work on the ground in events like this. Haiti had an earthquake, not a famine.