Herald exclusive: One frame at a time - Part I
Tim Hetherington, an award-winning British photojournalist and director-producer for the Oscar-nominated film Restrepo, and fellow photographer Chris Hondros of Getty Images are the latest casualties of a dangerous “war profession” — photojournalism. Hit by shrapnel, both bled to death in Misrata, Libya, last month while covering the fight with the rebel forces. Photojournalists like Hetherington and Hondros are known to take innumerable risks capturing images of conflict whether in Afghanistan, Sri Lanka or Liberia, bringing the horrors of war to the world's attention.
To mark International Press Freedom Day on May 3, the Herald focuses on certain trouble spots in South Asia – Pakistan, Afghanistan and India – looking at the lives and works of photojournalists documenting conflict in the region, defying the odds as they deal with terrifying moments.
They share similarities of vision, ethos and method but operating in diverse regions, there are marked differences that emerge as well. In Pakistan as the religious right warms up to photojournalists recording rallies and protest demonstrations splashed in the media, others recall psychological scars inflicted by the Taliban on people in areas where they wielded control. In India with a highly nationalist media, reporting what happens on the ground in conflict zones, especially Kashmir, offend not only one’s contemporaries but also the powerful security and state institutions leading to constraints. In Afghanistan as the nation rebuilds itself at snail’s pace and the media tests the limits of its newfound freedom, death and tragedy are part of everyday life for a photojournalist.
In all three countries, local media houses are still a long way from providing photojournalists with personal protection gear, medical insurance and, most importantly, training to deal with violence and war. The other aspect binding photojournalists working in conflict-ridden zones from this region is the emotional quality of their work. How they experience and overcome pain and suffering, and death and destruction of war has brought a unique human dimension to their work.
In the first of a two part article on South Asian photojournalists, we speak to professionals in Pakistan to record and report their lives and work.
PAKISTAN: Hard Times, Hard Work
Arif Ali is a Lahore-based photojournalist with nearly two decades’ worth of experience. Ali began at the lowest rung on the ladder, starting as an assistant at a local photography lab, freelancing for a year with an Islamabad-based English daily The Muslim, and then joining The News in 1992 where he spent the next 13 years. In 2008, he became a part of Dawn Media Group’s photo agency, White Star. Ali has also worked as a stringer for international wire services, most frequently with Agence France-Presse, since the early 1990s.
Q. Has there been any shift in the way news photography is viewed in Pakistan?
A. Definitely. Earlier, religious organisations, such as Jamaatud Dawa and Dawat-e-Islami, would snatch our cameras and not let us photograph their rallies, saying it was “haram” to take pictures. But now they realise how having their pictures in print is important and that they cannot be cut off from the rest of the world. So they tip us off when the heads of their parties are set to make an appearance and expect us to be there.
On the Kashmir Solidarity Day this year, they did something they never allowed before: they let us get up on the podium and photograph Hafiz Saeed (chief of Jamaatud Dawa) in “English style” — close-ups and mugshots. Earlier, they would specifically ask us to not take any close-ups of Saeed.
Q. The last decade has seen unprecedented levels of terror attacks in Lahore in particular. How has it affected your work in this environment?
A. The environment is still not conducive with the poor pay structure, zero health insurance, and absolutely no training or workshops. You are expected to have your own camera and have a motorcycle for traveling to the location. I did not have health coverage until three years ago when I joined Dawn. In 1997, I was covering the trial of Azam Tariq (founder of the banned militant outfit Sipah-e-Sahaba Pakistan) at the Lahore High Court. It was the first time that he had been brought out publicly, so we tried to get as close to him as possible. He had disembarked from a police vehicle when explosives planted in nearby motorcycles detonated. My camera flew away and broke down. Worse, the explosives burnt my clothes and skin. If I had not been injured, I would have died of fear. There were dead bodies all around me. Given that it was a high-profile case, Mir Shakilur Rehman, owner of the Jang Group where I was working then, said the company would cover all my medical expenses. Otherwise, I did not have any medical cover.
Q. How would you rate your experience while working for foreign news agencies?
A. They are poles apart [from the local media]. Internationally, they rely on pictures more than local newspapers. Foreign editors give more importance to photographers on the front line.
I have worked with local media houses but it was Agence France-Presse (AFP) that trained me to use an Apple computer, how to load pictures, etc. More recently, AFP arranged two workshops in Pakistan and a third in Hong Kong on how to cover terrorist incidents and rallies, where to position yourself if you are covering a mob, how to survey a blast site for safety, what to do in case you get kidnapped. No media house in Pakistan has ever conducted such a training course in the country.
Q. How do you deal with the trauma and loss of life that surrounds you while covering a terrorist act?
A. When we are shooting in such circumstances, there is a strange feeling. You are crying inwardly. If there are two of us together, we go about our work silently. No words pass between us. It is not that we are hard-hearted, we are as anxious [as anybody would be in such a situation]. In my career, the most traumatic incident I covered was that of paedophile and serial killer Javed Iqbal. The police had put up pictures and displayed the shoes and clothes of his victims. The way women from the families of the victims reacted, kissing the shoes and wailing, it was so painful. I have never been moved as much.
Based in Mingora, Swat, Mohammad Zubair as a photojournalist covers Khyber Pakhtunkhwa’s Malakand division. He worked during the height of Taliban control in the region, covering the gory and brutal manifestations of their power. He has been associated with Reuters, Al Jazeera, Dawn and local newspapers in Swat.
Q. How did you work under the Taliban? A. The Taliban did not place restrictions on us, they wanted us to photograph what they did and invited us as well. They wanted the government to know that they were present in Malakand. If we ever dared to cover government-related stories or those to do with the army, the local Taliban commander would send out warnings that specifically mentioned the names of journalists [who had supposedly crossed the line]. Q. You shot public beheadings at Green Chowk in Swat. How did you feel at the time? A. We were scared especially when we covered the beheadings at Green Chowk (variously known as Khooni Chowk and Zibah Khana Chowk). Mostly they targeted government officials, policemen, prostitutes and dancing girls. At times they would kill someone and would leave the body at the chowk warning people not to touch or remove it. Within six months, they had slaughtered 28 people. The images were so graphic that no one could publish them. We would worry that one day it could be one of us or our kin. Q. Are people willing to be photographed in the conflict zones? A. Not everyone. There was one incident that I still recall. The Taliban had dragged a dancing girl Shabana out of her place and were going to behead her at the chowk. She asked them not to slaughter her, but instead shoot her. They agreed. Shortly after this incident, all the dancing girls left Swat. Now that the area has been cleared of the Taliban and these girls have come back, not one of them is willing to be photographed even if we request repeatedly. This article appeared in the May 2011 issue of Herald magazine. The Herald is Pakistan's premier current affairs magazine published by the Dawn Media Group every month from Karachi.