Thin Red Line

Passing by a colony of hutments on my way home today I saw two small girls crying as it poured lightly, whether it was because their naked bodies were freezing in the drizzle or the fact that their parents weren’t around I couldn’t tell. Nor could I find the compassion to provide them some cover. I felt a strong urge to photograph them.

It would have made a compelling picture, they were hugging each other as no one else paid them any attention, framed right it would be one of best photographs. I forced myself on before I could dig out my camera. Apart from the fact that photographing individuals in the nude without their consent is just one step short of full-blown pornography, I realized that whatever my intentions, I would be exploiting them. I would be taking advantage of their helplessness and the fact that they were just too young to understand what was happening around them. All they wanted was to find their parents and someplace warm. This, and not the fact that I’d be risking permanent damage to my camera and being mobbed by the morally sensitive pedestrians, is what made me abandon the idea. Of course, not doing anything to help them is another story.

Ever since my dead-brained principal told me that I’d never make a good journalist if I kept taking the easy way out (her version of the story and opinion is completely irrelevant, for her the best sources are those that hold office and not ordinary observant individuals), I’ve thought a lot more about things that I hoped wouldn’t come up ever again. I thought I’d put to bed the good journo - bad journo argument (which lasted all summer) before deciding to study journalism. I’d convinced myself that no matter what the consequences, I wouldn’t sell out, that I’d rather quit than be forced to turn a paparazzo. I was confident I’d research each of my stories carefully and thoroughly and never lift phrases off press releases, I wouldn’t exploit someone just to get a story and if someone got run over I’d first get them to a hospital than make them the next day’s news. But here it is, the age-old debate has reared its ugly head once more. All it took was a careless remark and a moment’s indecision.

I never expected to fall back this easily, never thought I’d be re-examining the line between news and exploitation. The problem is the same but this time the solution is different. A simple exertion of will power will put an end to this for good. Tonight I will know if I can resist the call.