constellationcafe.files.wordpress.com file · Web viewIf there is one thing we're missing in...

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If there is one thing we're missing in today's photography culture, it’s the critical reading of photography in a non-visual space. As photography becomes more accessible and proliferated, we also have to be mindful of our changing relationship with images. A critical approach makes the photographs more than mere scribbles on a large visual canvas. When I recently met Coco Chen at Magnum Photos in London, we started discussing her dissertation based on photographs shot by Canadian photojournalist Rita Leistner in Balad, Iraq in 2003. At the time, Coco was in the process of completing her piece. Now I am pleased to present to you the essay in its entirety, titled “Precarity in the Age of Digital Reproduction: The Political and Civil Repercussions of Rita Leistner’s “Prisoners of Balad.” The paper, as you'll read now, discusses how we are all consumers influenced by the media. However, before the public is exposed to the products of the media, the political climate already works to shape and determine the media’s mechanisms and content. Coco and Rita have agreed to let me publish the paper— an important document for every consumer of photography to read— here on Constellation Cafe. To continue reading…

Transcript of constellationcafe.files.wordpress.com file · Web viewIf there is one thing we're missing in...

If there is one thing we're missing in today's photography culture, it’s the critical reading of photography in a non-visual space. As photography becomes more accessible and proliferated, we also have to be mindful of our changing relationship with images. A critical approach makes the photographs more than mere scribbles on a large visual canvas.

When I recently met Coco Chen at Magnum Photos in London, we started discussing her dissertation based on photographs shot by Canadian photojournalist Rita Leistner in Balad, Iraq in 2003. At the time, Coco was in the process of completing her piece. Now I am pleased to present to you the essay in its entirety, titled “Precarity in the Age of Digital Reproduction: The Political and Civil Repercussions of Rita Leistner’s “Prisoners of Balad.”

The paper, as you'll read now, discusses how we are all consumers influenced by the media. However, before the public is exposed to the products of the media, the political climate already works to shape and determine the media’s mechanisms and content. Coco and Rita have agreed to let me publish the paper— an important document for every consumer of photography to read— here on Constellation Cafe.

To continue reading…

We want the photographer to go to country X and illustrate our preconceptions. – Philip Jones Griffiths (1)

To make a photograph is to acknowledge that an event has the prospect of an

afterlife. In journalism, photography serves as a tool to aid the organization of events

past: “The photograph is a kind of promise that the event will continue, indeed it is

that very continuation, producing an equivocation at the level of the temporality of the

event.” (2) To assess the photographs from the Iraq War, it is imperative to bear in

mind that the U.S. intervention in Iraq told “a story of exploded illusions” and still

leaves behind a legacy of grievous ramifications. (3) The major American occupation

of Iraq may have ended, but countless unresolved political and civil conflicts persist.

By documenting the happenings of events in process, photojournalism at its best bears

the intrinsic quality of an eyewitness. According to the Benjaminian view of the

photographic unconscious, photography ‘flashes up’ and renders truth in a dissociated

moment. (4) However, as newspapers and newsmagazines are perceived as less

credible, the documentary photograph is losing its previous criticality. (5) Few

memorable icons emerged from the Iraq War, a long conflict during a time when

images have been most proliferated and accessible. (6) As the Canadian

photojournalist Rita Leistner’s series of photographs of prisoners in Balad

demonstrate, the imbalance of the media reportage of the Iraq War concerned two

problematic aspects—the mechanism of embedding and the circulation of images.

The circumstances in which Leistner photographed the prisoners and the delayed

distribution of the images unveil the visual politics of the ‘War on Terror.’ Not until

the images from Abu Ghraib prison leaked in April 2004 did Leistner’s photographs

from July 2003 find willing buyers in international press. Leistner’s images

demonstrate that the incident at Abu Ghraib acted as a breach in the public

understanding of the Iraq War.

In mid-March 2003, just days before the US invasion of Iraq, many

independent freelancers, including Leistner, waited at the Turkish border to enter Iraq.

The border never opened, and the Turkish border patrols were ordered to shoot-to-kill

if they saw any illegal trespassers. (7) Stranded without the coalition forces or the

means to try accessing Iraq from Jordan or Kuwait, Leistner decided to hike to Iraq.

With the help of smugglers, she reached the Iraqi side of the border after a harrowing

three-day hike that took her through the treacherous mountains of Syria and Iran, just

in time to watch the fall of Tikrit on television, on April 14, 2003. (8) By late April,

Leistner landed a story of her own. The Daily Mail had sent her to cover Defense

Secretary Donald Rumsfeld’s visit to Camp Victory, the vast military base near the

Baghdad airport. (9) However, without a press invitation, she was barred at the front

gate, where by chance she met ‘Crazy Horse’, the soldiers of Charlie Troop, 3rd

Squadron, 7th US Cavalry, 3rd Infantry Division. They invited Leistner to stay at the

base, where she would not have to pay any expenses and would be able to leave the

country with them. Her definitive encounter with Crazy Horse led to an unusual

embed with the unit and later their replacements, soldiers of Alpha Compant, 1-8

Infantry Battalion, 3rd Brigade Combat Team, of the 4th ID, that would last for four

months. About a month and a half after her encounter with Crazy Horse, Leistner

accompanied the soldiers to Balad in the Sunni Triangle. (10)

In the city of Balad, the story of Leistner’s images of Iraqi prisoners began.

Tracing the history of Leistner’s photographs to their origin reveals fundamental

aspects of guerrilla warfare as well as flaws in the conditioning of some US soldiers

that ultimately led to the photographed event. By mid-July 2003, Crazy Horse was

sharing the base with their replacements.

The 3ID soldiers made a big deal of the difference between their expectations of Iraq and those of the incoming 4ID soldiers who had arrived after the

invasion, and had not seen combat. The 4ID solders did not feel the same sense of betrayal by their government, because they hadn’t been lied to yet—at least that is how it was explained to me by some of the soldiers in Crazy Horse. Nor had they had time to gain respect for the Iraqis. (11)

The soldiers had not been in Iraq for very long, and their unfamiliarity with the local

situation all the more distorted the unreliable methods already endemic to guerrilla

warfare— mass arrests, interrogation, and torture. (12) On the evening of July 15th,

Leistner accompanied the 4ID on a night-patrol. During these patrols, the 4ID was

regularly targeted with rocket-propelled grenades (RPG). On this particular night, the

Bradley Fighting Vehicle ahead of Leistner’s vehicle in the convoy was attacked, and

when her vehicle came to a halt, a second RPG struck another vehicle. The soldiers

proceeded to raid the nearby houses to find the source of the attack and arrested the

Iraqi men in all the houses. Leistner recalls documenting the event:

This was very much straight journalism, spot news—I was simply there and I was photographing what was in front of me, things as they were. I added light, but that was it. There was a lot going on, and I had to make selections as I went. (13)

The soldiers brought the arrested men back to the base where there was an old Ba’ath

Party jail. Thereafter, under the watch of American soldiers, the relatively benign

handling of the prisoners changed its course. For the first time, Leistner watched

interrogations. She remembered thinking that if she were in the position of the

prisoners, she would be grateful for the presence of a photojournalist to guarantee her

mere survival. (14) As later proved by the trial of a 4ID commander for revenge

killings, Leistner was right to assume that her camera offered immunity to the

prisoners and still upholds her belief:

If I could go back, I would have fought much harder to figure out what was happening to the prisoners. But the truth is, none of us had ever been in that kind of situation before, and prisoners would just be gone the next morning. We had no reason to imagine the worst because the story hadn’t been told yet. (15)

At the time, all she knew was that the prisoners were interrogated, and then some

were let go while others were sent to undisclosed locations.

During Leistner’s first embed with 3ID, she noticed that the base lacked basic

means of communication and updated information on the war. There was no

electricity, running water, toilets, food, Internet, or phones. Leistner observed that the

soldiers had no idea of the happenings of the war and kept thinking they were

supposed to return home soon only to be told otherwise. (16) In a photograph

depicting a tied and bagged Iraqi suspect on the ground, the suspect awaits the

decision of the American soldiers, who presumably arrested him and whose feet are

only indication of their presence in the image. (Fig. 1) In the moments following the

raid of the houses in Balad and the arrests of many Iraqi men like the pictured subject,

the soldiers are discussing their next move in the operation. The photograph reveals

the deliberation of the American soldiers, but it also suggests the lack of a thorough

plan, as if their agenda only comprised of rounding up the Iraqis and not what to do

with them afterwards. Like the Iraqi suspect, the soldiers are also awaiting an order

from a higher power. A remarkable stillness penetrates the composition: the Iraqi

suspect is as still as a corpse, nor does the image show any sign of action from

American soldiers. What it does show is a static moment during wartime when a

photojournalist like Leistner could have taken time to frame the photograph and take

multiple shots. It was not a fast point-and-shoot photograph to capture some remnant

of transient action, and for this reason, the photograph reveals a vulnerable aspect of

the American mission— at times American soldiers lacked access to news sources,

and their uninformed decisions showed that they had become ignorant of the wider

conflict.

Photojournalism exists for an ethical and urgent purpose, but the politics of the

policing of visual circulation indicate otherwise. The critic Fred Ritchin pleads against

the general moral negligence of viewers:

Given that extensive image archives tend to emerge only after the fact, a crushing new sense or moral failure on the part of the viewer could be mitigated by a sense that, had the international community only known of the atrocities sooner and in such visceral detail, a more active response might have been provoked. (17)

Any opportunity to trigger immediate and proactive responses from viewers is

stripped from photographs like Leistner’s, which only emerged in public domain

when the media finally acknowledged their depicted subject. As such, Butler claims,

“the frames that, in effect, decide which lives will be recognizable as lives and which

will not, must circulate in order to establish their hegemony.” (18) Conversely,

interrupted or discontinued circulation thwarts journalists’ urgent missions. Believing

that her photographs showed significant news, Leistner tried to distribute them

immediately afterwards:

I remember that night I took those pictures I stayed up in the middle of the desert. I filed them to my agency and they shot them around and no one was interested at all. They couldn’t sell them. One of the things they heard back was that the assumption was that it didn’t represent what was going on because they hadn’t seen those kinds of pictures. (19)

The agency’s refusal to purchase Leistner’s photographs confirms Butler’s

proclamation of “recognisability precedes recognition.” (20) The spectator has to first

establish a subject through general terms, conventions, and ‘norms’ before fully

discerning it. According to Butler, subjects only become recognizable lives if they fit

with the citizen’s predetermined conceptions of personhood. Viewers are more

willing to accept visual representations that correspond with their ‘norms,’ even if

those representations betrayed reality. Hannah Arendt appropriately wrote, “Lies are

often much more plausible, more appealing to reason, than reality, since the liar has

the great advantage of knowing beforehand what the audience wishes or expects to

hear.” (21) Photographs can function in a similar manner as political lies, and the

media as liars: if they show what the audience has envisaged, the audience is more

likely to accept them. Since the content of Leistner’s photographs did not correspond

with normative representations of the war, the media declined to transmit the

photographs’ messages. The initial dealings with Leistner’s photographs unveil the

strategy of the American media powerhouse to rejects representations it refuses to

believe. Consequently, the selection of photographs that ended up in newspapers,

newsmagazines, and online reported carefully filtered propaganda, undermining the

democracy of representation.

Not only did the majority of Americans ally themselves with their president

before the war, they further increased their support for him when he made the

decision to launch an unprecedented pre-emptive war against Saddam Hussein. In the

period between March 14-15 and March 22-23, 2003—including March 19, the day

the war began—statistics show that President Bush’s approval ratings rose by a large

margin from 58% to 71%. (22) However, when it came to visual representations of

what the American soldiers were doing to Iraqis, the media deemed the images too

harrowing for the public’s taste. No mainstream media outlet wanted the public to see

what were revelatory photographs depicting how US troops treated Iraqi insurgents.

For the American audience, seeing images of atrocity committed by their nation’s

soldiers only escalated the discrepancy between the representations of their president

as victorious (i.e. Bush in Mission Accomplished photo opportunity) and

compassionate (i.e. Bush on a surprise visit serving Thanksgiving turkey to American

soldiers stationed in Bagdad) and the reality of the horror of war. (23) This

irreconcilable difference is, for obvious reasons, undesirable for the Pentagon’s

communication strategies.

During the first Persian Gulf War, the American Government had banned

photographers from the conflict, thereby creating “a blind spot that would heavily

contribute to the illusion that the second invasion of Iraq would be a cake walk.”(24)

The treatment of visual representations did not improve in the second Gulf War; it

was only the Pentagon’s weapon of war that had changed. Usurping visual censorship

was image and news management in the form of embedding. On October 20, 2002,

Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld launched embedding to counter and match the

successful news management of the Taliban and al-Qaeda and “to have accurate,

professional journalists on the ground to see the truth of what was going on.” (25)

Though considered to be a military achievement, embedding came with its own set of

rules and complications. The only way for reporters to get close to combat was to

embed with troops. (26) As reporters and soldiers naturally formed mutual reliance,

embedding strengthened the propagandistic strategies of the US government.

Embedding also limited the access of journalists, which according to Leistner, is

responsible for the disparity between news coverage and the reality of the war:

If you create an environment where the majority of journalists are reliant on being embedded, those journalists, simply by geographical, physical situation, will only be able to report from the perspective of being inside the military. (27)

Access in itself is selective, and it formed the very foundation of the Pentagon’s

method of controlling war reportage.

As insurgencies broke out, journalists had no choice but to enrol in the

embedding program to get to stretches of Iraq too dangerous for independent travel.

For the Pentagon and media corporations, the rise of American casualties rose called

for a tightening of the rules for photojournalism. As the war went bad, the military

forbade photographing dead American soldiers and prohibited photographing

wounded soldiers unless permission was acquired before they were injured.

Photographing prisoners and dead American soldiers was out of the question. (28)

But whatever the motivations behind the military’s restrictions—to spare the families of the fallen some pain, for instance—their effect was to cast a sanitized gloss over the war in Iraq, and to help deprive the American people of a fuller knowledge of the realities of the war that their fellow citizens were fighting. In a country whose bedrock principles hold that war can be waged only by consent of the people, such restrictions were troubling indeed. (29)

Because of these changes, Leistner could not have taken the photographs of the

prisoners had she encountered the situation in Balad a few years later.

As the US government justified, the toughened regulations were warranted in

the name of protecting the rights of the dead, wounded, and imprisoned. (30) By 2007,

the result was obvious on the news pages: gone were the images of dead or wounded

Americans, their caskets, memorials, funerals, Iraqi prisoners, and car bomb scenes.

(31) Among many who shared the same sentiment, photojournalist Ben Brody stated

that he felt more comfortable photographing Iraqis than American soldiers. He

photographed a number of wounded and dead Iraqi police officers and soldiers, but

the one time when he raised his camera to photograph an American soldier missing

his legs following an improvised explosive device attack, an American staff sergeant

threatened him with violence. It was the closest he felt like he had ever been to getting

killed. (32) As the conflicts became more atrocious, the media coverage, in an

opposite trajectory, provided more sanitized disinformation.

In fact, during the period when Leistner had taken and attempted to file her

photographs, the US government was denying that an insurgency was occurring in

Iraq and still kept on suppressing news of civilian uprisings for at least another year.

(33) In a polarized dialogue with the Pentagon’s public refusal to account for the

reality of the war, Leistner’s photographs reveal the extent to which the American

invasion impacted the lives of civilians. One photograph of the Balad series shows a

middle-aged Iraqi man, hands tied behind his back, leaning against the wall. (Fig 2.)

He is bleeding from a blow he received during his arrest. Another photograph shows

two soldiers from the 4th ID dragging an elderly man from either side from his home.

(Fig. 3) The elderly man needed the assistance of a cane, which an American soldier

in the right foreground has seized from him. Clearly unfit for launching RPGs, the

elderly man was one of the many innocent civilians arrested. As a US Army Inspector

later discovered in his investigation, the 4ID was “grabbing whole villages, because

combat soldiers [were] unable to figure out who was of value and who was not.” (34)

This corresponds with the soldiers discussing their plan after arresting and bagging

the Iraqi suspect on the ground. (Fig. 1.) In an incident largely unimaginable to the

citizens of countries funding the war, three innocent inhabitants of Balad paid for their

neighbours’ plotting with their own blood and flesh. Soon after Leistner and other

journalists left the base of the 4ID, three Iraqi prisoners died in separate incidents over

a two-day period in orchestrated revenge killings. (35) The military court later found

the commander of the 4ID Captain Matthew Cunningham and some of his

subordinates guarding the prison guilty of sanctioning revenge killings on the Iraqi

civilians on the night of January 2nd/3rd, 2004. (36) Had she stayed with the 4ID or

fought for the images’ immediate publication, Leistner felt that her camera could have

prevented the atrocious treatment of the prisoners that led to their deaths. (37)

It just makes sense that if their photos had been in the news there’s no way [soldiers of 4ID] would have felt the kind of immunity they obviously felt they had to do whatever they wanted. (38)

Above all, the course of Leistner’s images shows that the operative circulatibility of

visual representations maintains the power to save lives.

Only after the images from Abu Ghraib leaked did Leistner’s images receive

any attention and assert their secure dwelling place in the public domain of human

affairs. When the Abu Ghraib story broke at the end of April 2004, approximately

nine and a half months after Leistner first attempted to file the photographs, both Time

and Newsweek bid for the rights from Leistner’s agency. (39) The significance of the

news giants’ sudden interest, which even led to a competition between them to buy

the images, was that editors at both magazines had remembered the images from the

news feed of Leistner’s agency from the previous summer. When Leistner first filed

the images, the market of photojournalism was hostile to them because of its

dependence on the political beliefs of media corporations. However, at the outbreak of

the Abu Ghirab story, the political climate exposed the Bush Administration’s de-

realization of the atrocity of modern warfare and warmed up to Leistner’s images.

At the time of their immediate release, the Abu Ghraib images created an

uncompromising opposition to the popular conceptions of the Iraq War. (40) Profound

for their exaggerated theatricality, the torture scenes strip the human figure down to

its bare form and stage the lives of the prisoners as if to suggest they are hardly

grievable. The photographs conveyed to international communities the sense that the

US was no better than any other imperialist conqueror in the past and intensified their

fears about the motives of the invasion. (41) The photograph had an immediate impact

among American citizens as well: Bush’s performance rating plummeted to what was

then its lowest point of 46%, and a CNN/USA Today/Gallup poll indicated that nearly

three-quarters of Americans said the mistreatment of the detainees was not justifiable

under any circumstances. (42) The Abu Ghraib story as ideological evidence opened

up a gap in the media—a window of opportunity—for other ideologically similar

evidence, like Leistner’s images, that might also subvert the public’s previous

understanding of the Iraq War. It speaks to great volumes that the media’s invigorated

demand for Leistner’s images only occurred in retrospect, utterly undermining the

reasons Leistner endured precarious measures to access Iraq, encounter the incident in

Balad, and take the photographs in the first place. The media compromised, and

violated, the creed of photojournalism.

Today, exactly a decade after the release of the Abu Ghraib photographs, the

impact of images has become more and more diluted. War fatigue, and the lack of

funding, reduced the number of photographers from hundreds in March 2013 to no

more than a half dozen by the war’s end in 2011. (43) Steeped in the culture of the

developed world, visual consumption often departs from the ethical grids that should

underpin humanity. For example, to view a slideshow of news photographs on major

news websites, the media player drags its viewer through highly saturated

commercials before showing the more serious substance. How much more

disenchanting can the difference between the separate spheres be? Butler set the

premise of her essay on ‘Torture and the Ethics of Photography’ as one “offering a

first-world ethic and politic that would demand an outraged and informed response on

the part of those whose government perpetrates or permits such torture.” (44) The

protection of ‘the first world’ shelters us from understanding the burden of being

represented. We are able to capitalize on others’ tragedies, but do we ever think of the

subject as the rightful owner of a photograph? (45) For many, museum and

institutional contexts have become the only sanctuaries that allow for the right amount

of space for thinking and time for gestation in the fast-moving digitalized world. (46)

As a solution, Butler suggests:

If we can be haunted, then we can acknowledge that there has been a loss and hence that there has been a life: this is an initial moment of cognition, an apprehension, but also a potential judgment, and it requires that we conceive

of grievability as the precondition of life, one that is discovered retrospectively through the temporality instituted by the photograph itself. (47)

However, there is profound hypocrisy in looking and understanding only

retrospectively. Photographic archives may be “a resource to recall and relegitimize a

culture identity,” but historic distanciation tends to make images less depressing and

leaves us at a loss when faced with contemporary challenges. (48) I suggest that we

confront and respond to the problems raised by photojournalism as they come, as the

media should have done when Leistner first filed her photographs in the desert of

Balad in July 2003. After all, photojournalists continue to jeopardize their lives for the

reason of evoking the infinite language of compassion.

Coco Chen, May 2014

Figure. 1. An Iraqi suspect in an early morning roadside attack on an American convoy is “bagged and tied” by American soldiers. He lies waiting on the lawn of a neighbor’s house while the soldiers discuss their next move. Rita Leistner. July 16, 2003. Balad, Iraq. (Image: http://www.ritaleistner.com.)

Figure 2. An Iraqi suspect in an early morning roadside attack on an American convoy has his arms tied and is bleeding from a blow to the head received during his arrest. Rita Leistner. July 16, 2003. Balad, Iraq. (Image: http://www.ritaleistner.com.)

Figure 3. An Iraqi suspect in an early morning roadside attack on an American convoy is dragged our of his house by American soldiers. He is an elderly man who walks with a cane, which an American soldier is holding. Rita Leistner. July 16, 2003. Balad, Iraq. (Image: http://www.ritaleistner.com.)

Footnotes

1. Fred Ritchin, Bending the Frame: Photojournalism, Documentary, and the Citizen, 137.2. Judith Butler, Frames of War, (London: Verso, 2009), 84.3. George Packer, “Home Fires,” The New Yorker, April 7, 2014. 4. Walter Benjamin, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproductions,” Illuminations, (London: Pimlico, 1999), 230.5. Ritchin, Bending the Frame: Photojournalism, Documentary, and the Citizen, 11-12.6. Ritchin, “Syrian Torture Archive: When Photographs of Atrocities Don’t Shock,” Time: Lightbox, January 28, 2014, accessed February 2, 2014, http://lightbox.time.com/2014/01/28/when-photographs-of-atrocities-dont-shock/#1.7. Rita Leistner, “Embedded with Murderers: Balad, Iraq, July 15th, 2003,” ed. by Julian Stallabrass, Memory of War: Images of War and The War of Images, (Brighton: Photoworks, 2013), 84. 8. Michael Kamber, Photojournalists on War, (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2013),156.9. Leistner, “Embedded with Murderers: Balad, Iraq, July 15th, 2003,” 86.10. Kamber, 156.11. Leistner, “Embedded with Murderers: Balad, Iraq, July 15th, 2003,” 87.12. Rita Leistner, e-mail message to author, May 9, 2014. 13. Leistner, “Embedded with Murderers: Balad, Iraq, July 15th, 2003,” 89.14. Kamber, 156.15. Leistner, e-mail message to author, May 9, 2014.16. Kamber, 156.17. Ritchin, “Syrian Torture Archive: When Photographs of Atrocities Don’t Shock.”18. Butler, Frames of War, 12.19. Kamber, 161.20. Butler, 5.21. Hannah Arendt, “Lying in Politics,” Crises of the Republic, (New York: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1972), 6.22. “Presidential Approval Ratings—George W. Bush,” Gallup, April 12, 2014, accessed April 13, 2014, http://www.gallup.com/poll/116500/presidential-approval-ratings-george-bush.aspx.23. Ritchin, After Photography, (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2009), 89.24. Ibid, 85.25. Bill Katovsky and Timothy Carlson, Embedded: The Media War in Iraq, (Guilford, Connecticut, The Lyons Press, 2003), IX.26. Ibid, XI.27. Leistner, e-mail message to author, May 9, 2014.28. Kamber, Photojournalists on War, X.29. Ibid.30. Ibid.31. Ibid, XIIV.32. Ibid, 29.33. Ibid, 161.34. Ibid, 159.35. Leister, “Embedded with Murderers: Balad, Iraq, July 15th, 2003,” 98.36. Ibid, 98.

37. Kamber, 161. 38. Leistner, e-mail message to author, May 9, 2014.39. Leistner, “Embedded with Murderers: Balad, Iraq, July 15th, 2003,” 97.40. Mitchell, Cloning Terror: The War of Images, 9/11 to the Present, (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press), 153.41. “Iraq: Abu Ghraib’s Legacy,” CNN, December 19, 2011, accessed February 12, 2014. http://edition.cnn.com/video/data/2.0/video/world/2011/12/19/nat-abu-ghraib-legacy.cnn.html.42. Ritchin, Bending the Frame: Photojournalism, Documentary, and the Citizen, 144. 43. Kamber, X.44. Butler, 93.45. Ariella Azoulay, “The Civil Contract of Photography,” The Civil Contract of Photography, (New York: Zone Books, 2008).46. Butler, 99.47. Ibid, 98 48. Ritchin, Bending the Frame, 128.

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