Donald Trump assassination images are perfect photojournalism – and that’s the problem
The pictures of defiant Donald Trump fist-pumping having survived a shooting are so stunning they could have been produced by AI – no wonder they’ve sparked so many conspiracy theories, says Andy Blackmore
There are days when I hate my job, and then there are days when I love it. Days when the hairs on the back of your neck bristle and your heart pounds at the sight of incredible imagery. Sunday was one such day.
It was a defining moment; there was a time before, yet now its very existence defines all events succeeding it. Quite literally, it is an image that will change the course of history. Sadly, I’m not talking about an image of the victorious England team lifting the European Cup Trophy, but an equally improbable event: the almost unbelievable photographs of a bloodied and defiant Donald Trump, fist-pumping after surviving an assassination attempt.
When I first heard the news and switched on the TV, I could hardly believe what I was seeing – not the looped video of the event, but the stunning stills taken by the assembled press photographers. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to get to the office, dive deep, and savour the images captured in that fleeting moment – but that’s my job.
Collectively, those images represent a stunning body of visual journalism. Yet almost before the neurons that powered that thought had a chance to fade, along came another electrifying idea. Now that we live in such “interesting” times, no one will ever believe it’s real.
It’s a tragedy, for these images represent some of the most perfect examples of photojournalism I have ever seen. And that’s the problem; some would say, too perfect. Almost too soon; virtually before I had time to think that thought, the internet is awash with conspiracy theories questioning the validity of the images.
I understand. Its perfection makes it exactly the sort of image our AI overlords would produce. So, if, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words, then the value of such to the crackpots who peddle this twaddle and steer the narrative to their twisted agendas is almost incalculable. It is not without reason that the old saying “May you live in interesting times” is interpreted as a curse. Indeed, we live in interesting times.
Now, it’s not the first time we’ve encountered photographs imbued with the power to galvanise and polarise opinion. Nick Ut’s iconic 1972 photograph of the young girl running from a napalm attack in Vietnam, Jeff Widener’s 1993 photo of a defiant protester in Tiananmen Square dubbed “Tank Man,” Kevin Carter’s 1993 picture of an emaciated Sudanese child collapsed on the ground, with a vulture lurking nearby, waiting, and Nilüfer Demir‘s 2015 image of the dead refugee child Alan Kurdi on a Turkish beach. Not all these iconic images changed the course of history. Yet, they all changed how we think about it.
Those examples have one thing in common: their raw power. They are all perfect examples of the “decisive moment” that rare instance when the planets align, and fate and timing collide to create a whole whose impact is far greater than the sum of its parts, creating timeless testaments to all that is great about photojournalism.
Sadly, our views on photography have changed, and not for the better, so like it or not their days are numbered. Their impact is diminished daily by an almost all-pervading sense of cynicism and suspicion that percolates and contaminates our new view of the world. I get it. If nothing can be believed, then nothing can be believable. Now, I don’t know about you, but the thought of that legacy vanishing, consigned to the bin by our cynical new sensibilities, makes me very angry indeed.
The Kate Middleton saga was just the thin end of the wedge. It did not light the kindling of digital scepticism – for that was already smouldering – but it certainly fanned the flames. Now we have the potential to create a firestorm. This photograph will change history – but whether for better or worse, only time will tell. Even so, I fear it will not be good for news.
As the word of the miracle of The Butler Farm Show Grounds spreads; as the cries for beatification get louder, the adulation greater, the myth of St. Donald of Trump grows ever stronger, and his second coming beckons. Nothing will be allowed in its way – certainly not something as fragile as the truth. Then reality itself is endangered.
If history is hijacked and distorted to hawk whatever lunacy floats your boat, as both sides of the coin cry fake news, it salts the wells and poisons the truths. And much sooner than I ever imagined possible, we reach a singularity where, for many, the boundary between truth and untruth becomes impossible to define.
Andy Blackmore is picture editor of City PM