Ethics, Photojournalism and How Not to Shoot a Plane Crash Site
Shome Basu
Photojournalism can sometimes be rude. It requires documenting what has happened – through the eye of the photographer – while portraying reality as faithfully as possible. Missing a moment is like losing a piece of history. This is what Henri Cartier-Bresson had called the “decisive moment.”
Since the invention of the camera, news coverage, especially of tragedies, disasters, and the way heads of state react to these things, has been deeply tied to photojournalism. Images don’t merely portray the scene of events, they capture their gravity and historical significance.
The crash of the London-bound Air India flight after takeoff from Ahmedabad is now the biggest news story of the week. It is natural that cameras rushed to the scene to capture the disaster. This time it is evident that local police and administration did not prevent coverage.
As the tragedy unfolded, the Union home minister, the prime minister and other officials visited the site. We are to understand that their presence is meant to ensure a free and fair investigation. These visits were widely covered by the press. When the prime minister is involved, the coverage inevitably becomes more prominent. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, who was once the chief minister of Gujarat, arrived for what appeared to be a post-disaster assessment. He was, of course, photographed as he walked through the site.
But there were not too many takers for such a walk this time.
As a photojournalist, the first rule is to keep the facts intact. In these images, the prime minister appears to be surveying the site alone, as if no expert assistance is necessary. While it’s true that he has every right to visit and express solidarity with the families of the victims, the images seem to highlight only the prime minister and the accident site.
In this image via PMO, Prime Minister Narendra Modi visits the site of the Air India plane crash, in Ahmedabad, Friday, June 13, 2025. A London-bound Air India plane carrying 242 passengers crashed moments after taking off from the Ahmedabad airport on Thursday. (PMO via PTI Photo)
In earlier times, after events such as the 2004 tsunami, the Gujarat riots, the Bhuj earthquake, or the 26/11 Mumbai attacks, dignitaries did visit, but only after the immediate crisis had passed. Ministers were seen with experts, assessing the situation collectively. Today, the visual narrative often focuses on a single figure – in this case, prime minister Modi. Yet, in reality, there were likely hundreds of others present: members of his close protection group, administrative officers, police, fire services, civil aviation and disaster management experts. They are largely absent from the imagery. Such PR-heavy visuals raise questions about the government’s approach to communicating during crises.
This isn’t the first time such concerns have surfaced. In 2015, the Press Information Bureau (PIB) released an image of Modi surveying the Chennai floods from an airplane. Technically, when such images are taken, either the person looking out the window is underexposed because of the bright light outside, or the view outside becomes washed out due to interior exposure settings. In this case, however, the image of the floods was photoshopped into the window beside Modi, creating an impossible and ethically questionable image. Despite its manipulation, the image became part of the official archives of the government.
I remember another manipulated image: when Soviet troops captured Berlin in 1945, a now-famous photo showed a Red Army soldier raising the Soviet flag while wearing two wristwatches, an implication that looting had taken place. Later, the Soviet propaganda department removed one of the watches before releasing the image.
In his novel The Joke, Milan Kundera wrote about Czech Communist leader Klement Gottwald appearing on a balcony in Prague’s Old Town Square. A photograph captured a moment after another leader, Clementis, had placed a fur cap on Gottwald’s head to protect him from the snow. Years later, when that leader fell out of favour and was executed, he was removed from official versions of the photograph. But sincere photojournalists had already captured the original scene, preserving the truth and thwarting state propaganda.
Intelligence agencies and governments often attempt to manipulate public perception through curated imagery. During the 1971 India-Pakistan war, non-Bengali-speaking Pakistanis, mostly Mohajirs from Bihar, were bayoneted, their cries for help captured by AP photographers Horst Faas and Michel Laurent. French photojournalist Marc Riboud, who witnessed the killings, told me in 2012 that he pleaded with both the perpetrators and the photographers to stop. No one listened. When he reported the incident to Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, she turned hostile. The images won Pulitzers.
Something similar happened with the iconic image of US Marines raising the American flag at Iwo Jima. The original moment was missed, so the scene was restaged with different soldiers. None of their faces are visible in the final image. The photograph became a national symbol and also won a Pulitzer, despite not being an authentic moment.
These cases show how governments and their propaganda apparatuses use images to shape public narratives, often employing photographers who get clear instructions on how images are supposed to look. In the case of the recent Air India crash, a photograph of the prime minister looking at the wreckage – specifically the tail wing jutting out of a building – sparked significant backlash. The frame irked many. Perhaps the photographer used a low angle due to the lack of space, but some suggested it was done to make the image more dramatic.
During the 2008 Mumbai attacks, then home minister Shivraj Patil was photographed in different outfits while briefing the press. He faced backlash for his apparent insensitivity. The photojournalists captured not just the facts but also the mood and optics of political leadership.
In the immediate aftermath of 9/11, an iconic image emerged of former US president George W. Bush, standing amid the rubble and speaking into a megaphone. The low-angle shot dramatised both destruction and the resolve. Here, too, angle and composition added emotional weight to the image, making people think more.
Susan Sontag wrote that photography is not only an image, but an interpretation of the real. Photographs become documents of history, evidence of moments that matter. But when manipulated, they lose their ethical foundation. In 2006, Reuters fired photographer Adnan Hajj after it was discovered that he had altered images from the Lebanon War, adding and darkening smoke in a photo of Beirut to exaggerate the extent of destruction. He was also found to have altered another photo, falsely depicting multiple flares from an Israeli jet.
Ethics in modern photojournalism is a serious concern. Photographers must maintain sensitivity. And yet they also carry the burden of showing the world what happened.
As war photographer Abbas once told me, “A photographer cannot change a situation but can show the world the happenings and create a narrative which, in the long run, can bring change.”
Shome Basu is a photo journalist and The Wire's consulting photo editor.
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