How it all began
In 2006, a photographer friend asked me along to the ‘No More Fallujahs’ peace camp at Parliament Square, where anti-war campaigners were demanding an end to the UK/US military occupation of Iraq. It sounded exciting. It was all new ground to me, photographically and otherwise. I was tempted, but hesitant.
Coming from a country that has near-zero tolerance for dissent, and where a gathering of more than five persons could potentially be considered an illegal assembly, my nervousness then was understandable: But we’re not the press! Is it okay? Will we get into trouble? Will it be dangerous?
The curiosity and the challenge spoke to me. I turned up in Westminster, took a few dozen snaps, witnessed someone being arrested. After getting what I thought were a few keepers, I left the scene hastily.
I had then just discovered the attractions of a sub-genre of photography that had never been accessible to me before – protest reportage – and I was loving it. Since then, I’ve continued to cover protests of interest in London; I’m far from becoming a competent reportage photographer, but I think I’ve amassed enough experience to warrant sharing some of what I’ve learnt along the way. Not what-lens-to-use and how- or what-to-photograph, since these technical topics have been comprehensively dealt with by numerous photo websites, but I’m going to elaborate more on my general approach to reportage.
One of my very first photos in this genre was of anti-Iraq war protest; this is a sight that won’t be seen again as camps have since been banned from Parliament Square
Why ‘reportage’?
Some refer to it as (street or citizen) photojournalism, but I prefer to call what I do ‘reportage photography’. British Magnum photographer David Hurn explains in On Being a Photographer (1997):
Bill Jay: For various reasons you are not a photojournalist and you are hesitant to call yourself a documentary photographer because your images are subjective and personal…
David Hurn: Yes. I think of myself as a reportage photographer. I like the word. It implies a personal account of an observed event with connotations of subjectivity but honesty. It is eye-witness photography.
I think the distinction here is important, although it can be argued that it’s merely a case of semiotics. There certainly are blurred boundaries. To me, reportage is associated with stringing together a series of photographs to set a context and tell a story, sharing the same subjectivity as documentary photography but with a lower level of engagement with subjects – it’s my perspective of an event.
My default perspective, since I’m ‘vertically-challenged’, is… the low angle
Know your rights
As long as you’re expanding beyond the typical ‘touristy’ shots of established attractions, it’s essential to be aware of your rights as a photographer. This goes for street photography as much as other forms of reportage. This is helpful for three main reasons: so that you’ll know how to respond when confronted by either members of the public or the authorities, so that you won’t get your rights abused out of ignorance, and so that you can go about photographing with greater confidence (and create better pictures in the process!).
I carry Moo MiniCards with me wherever I go. On one side is a message of thanks, an assurance of my benign intentions, and my email. On the other is a distilled statement about photography and the law. I hand these cards out to people I’ve photographed (if they were aware of my act) and many have gotten in touch following the exchange, leading to some pretty interesting little tidbits about their lives (more about these in another blog post, one day maybe).
A friendly message to the people I photograph
I also have with me bust cards and an info sheet on photography in public places, printed off the Met Police’s website. The most important points are that police cannot stop me from photographing incidents or the police themselves in a public place, and that they have the power to ‘stop and search anyone who they reasonably suspect to be a terrorist under Section 43 of the Terrorism Act’, but they cannot force me to delete images without a court order. And, should I ever be subjected to a ‘stop and search’, I know that according to the Code of Practice released by the Home Office concerning the exercise of these powers, officers are encouraged to first conduct preparatory questioning (read: a conversation) where the person concerned will have the opportunity to account for her intentions and eliminate any grounds for suspicion that led to the encounter. Also, that only police officers and not PCSOs have this power.
All too often do we hear of horror stories involving photographers running into trouble with over-zealous police or over-paranoid private security officers. Knowing where you stand with the law and having the evidence to back it up may just mean the difference between getting away scott-free or a police receipt and possibly a roadmap to a court case. The photographers’ rights I’ve mentioned so far pertain to the UK and they would obviously vary from country to country, and it would be worth finding out what the local legislation is (I’ve tried researching photography rights for Singapore but as expected, they’re iffy and rather opaque about these things – ‘rights?’). The public/private places guideline should be pretty universal though and it’s generally safe to run with that assumption.
I slipped this guy a card since he was looking at me so intensely
Let Twitter be your bird of whispers
If it is not a static demonstration or if there is a long or convoluted route involved, it can get tricky. And, as they say, sometimes not everything goes according to plan. The organisers might change their meeting points or routes according to local conditions or the police might impose new restrictions, sometimes just hours prior to an event. I find that the best way to stay abreast of new intel from the ground is to follow the event’s hashtag on Twitter, or search using keywords related to the event. It worked for me, for example, in tracking the protesters’ location after Lady Thatcher’s funeral, and in deciding which protests to turn up to. Last Saturday, there were about five or six protests breaking out throughout the capital and I had decided to forgo Anonymous UK’s Operation BBC after reading that there had been a dismal turnout of activists, according to Twitter (‘Where is everyone?’ asked one Anon). On the other hand, the National Anti-Badger Cull march was seeing hundreds of supporters gathering at Tate Britain even before the stipulated start time, so that was an obvious must-grab.
The group Anonymous UK has hundreds of Twitter users and their operations are some of the easiest – and most entertaining – to follow
It’s a lone wolf operation
Much as I like the sense of security in numbers, I am discovering that working alone gives me more room for flexibility. I feel more free to approach strangers, and I can appear more approachable to strangers. I can deviate from a spot and wander around as I see fit, without needing to account to anyone. I can weave in and out of police lines and through the throng of protestors without being in anyone’s way.
Establish who you are
Let me put it into context. I am of Chinese ethnicity, and a rather, hmm, petite girl. In central London where I live and do much of my street photography, I blend into the tourist crowd with a camera, only that I am discreetly pointing my camera at strangers and not at sights and things. However, in situations of newsworthy interest, I operate in a field dominated by big White (to use the ONS’s classification) men. I stand out like a mole on a cheek. I become very conscious of my otherness.
I try to communicate my identity plainly and simply: I am a photographer, an observer not a participant, and a serious one at that. It’s amazing how easy it is to get accepted as a photographer if you look and behave the part. I carry a pro-body DSLR, use professional lenses, and I conduct myself in a manner as if I have every right to be there – which I know I do. It can be nerve-wrecking, but I have to convince myself to be assertive.
The media photographers, who in all likelihood already know one another and who belongs to their circle or not, will not be fooled. But the freelancers, the police, and the protesters are all surprisingly open to the idea that I might be from the press. I have often wondered what they thought, but thus far in my experience, I have been mistaken to be a photojournalist (PJ) more often than I am perceived to be a student/hobbyist/wannabe-PJ, or, even worse, a tourist. I’ve had activist leaders stopping supporters from speaking with me (“No talking to the papers!”), organisers passing me their media briefs, police directing me with a “Media, this way please”, protesters asking which agency I’m from. When the PJs swarm to an action scene, I swarm with them and have never been brushed aside.
Hallmark of a pro photog: double cameras (guy on right) and protective helmet in case of riots;
selfie with swivel screen… probably not! Top-left photobomb: a videographer’s gear
When asked who I am, my answer depends on who’s asking. If it is a protester, I say I’m a student photographer trying to build up my portfolio and practice my skills. This usually visibly relaxes them and makes them more amenable to an open conversation since they won’t need to keep their guard up. If it’s other photographers who ask, I say I’m a freelancer – which I am, in a sense, just not a full-time professional. If the photographer looks like someone who’s friendly enough for an honest chat, then I’m a hobbyist-freelancer-student. They’re quite kind, those who take the time to talk to you. Being a girl probably does have its advantages, since I come across as less intimidating and more empathetic. I’ve had a freelance PJ remark that I must have a ‘strong personality’, and my response to him was, “not all the time,” at which we both laughed.
Stay safe: know your groups, trust your judgement, listen to the cops
I am not that brave nor committed; I value the safety of my person and my equipment more than I do my photography, and since this isn’t my job, there is no real obligation for me to nail all the action. The volatility of the protesting groups and the potential of the situation to escalate into violence is something I consider quite carefully before deciding to turn up, or stay, for a coverage. There may come a time when History (with a capital H) is in the making I know getting the shot is the right thing to do, but usually it’s not it.
Common sense, unless you’re that dedicated: do not stand too close to fires
The anti-Islam film protest at the London US Embassy last year, led by a group led by an extremist cleric, was reported by the media as riotous and violent affair. Another rally a month later, organised by moderate Muslims at Google’s London headquarters, was a peaceful and even a dignified one. I went to the latter, didn’t feel at all threatened, and enjoyed my interactions with the campaigners there. Had I gone to the former, I might have been subjected to a terrifying experience instead.
They might not look a sociable lot, but people can be surprisingly open when you show an interest in their cause
Last Saturday, I intended to go to two of many protests in central London, but in the end three of them came to me – they were all held around Westminster and for some reason or another, they all conglomerated outside Parliament: the anti-badger cull army, the anti-austerity cuts mob, and the group Unite Against Fascism (UAF, notorious for their thuggish conduct opposite the British National Party (BNP) and English Defence League (EDL), who are likewise antagonistic hooligans). I hadn’t really planned on hanging around where the UAF were but since I got caught up in the events, I stayed on, and even secured myself a vantage point. It all started peaceably, but after a couple of hours into the chants and banner-waving, the activists were getting restless and a few attempted to penetrate the line. The police made snatch-arrests, to the thundering disapproval of the crowd. The riot police kept pushing the line back, and I was eventually forced off my perch.
A protester enjoys an even higher perch, and I enjoy my moment of lucky timing
Just before things start to get nasty
There was a sudden moment when someone among the protesters, who had linked arms to prevent police from breaking them up, shouted ‘RUN!’ and everyone turned tail, enabling the police to establish a barrier much further back towards the direction in which they ran. This created the situation where those who hadn’t fled, myself included, were caught between two police lines, one penning the UAF group and the other separating us from yet another line that contained the BNP group. We – mostly photographers – were effectively kettled in. None of the press photographers utilised their press cards to procure a release from the pen. We continued shooting behind the lines. Gradually, I could sense the tension building up in the air; the UAF supporters were becoming agitated. The officer in front of me said, “I’ve a duty of care to warn you that this might get violent. You may want to stand way back.” That’s when the police created a gap in the line and I decided to make an exit. The PJs strapped on their helmets. Not long afterwards, both BNP and UAF sides spilled through the barriers, and there were some scuffles leading to injuries, as well as many arrests – the papers report 58 apprehended. By that time, I was quite some distance from the clashes and was glad for it.
Taking sides
Smile, smile, smile
I can’t emphasise this enough. It opens doors, defuses tension, makes you new acquaintances, and helps you stay out of sticky situations.
Smile and spread the love