A photograph is often treated as evidence which is clear, immediate and beyond dispute. Yet every image is shaped by the eye behind the camera. The choices of what to include, what to leave out, and how to frame a moment are all crucial and depend on who is behind the camera. In that sense, photography is never neutral. It has sharp edges and can illuminate, but it can also invisibilize. For many communities, the camera has long been in the hands of outsiders. The images that circulate are familiar: poverty, conflict, indigenous faces, food, nature and the dramatic. These images may not be altogether unreal, but are incomplete. Things become known for what is most visible to others, not for what is most true to those who live there. Here, photography cuts one way: it fixes a narrow image so firmly that it begins to define reality itself. This is not simply a matter of distance between the photographer and the object, but of power. The person behind the camera decides what is worth seeing. Moreover, when that decision is made without context, it often produces images that are easy to consume but difficult to trust.
Some photographers have resisted this tendency. Gordon Parks used his camera to confront racial injustice in the United States without stripping his subjects of dignity. Sebastião Salgado documented labour, migration and environmental crises on a global scale, bringing attention to lives often ignored, though not without raising questions about the aesthetics of suffering. Raghu Rai turned his lens towards India with an insider’s understanding, capturing both tragedy and everyday life with a sense of proportion. These examples show how photography, at its best, can reveal complexity, challenge simplistic narratives, and draw attention to what might otherwise be overlooked.In such work, the camera’s sharper edge cuts through distortion rather than deepening it. The photographs here are the result of lived contexts rather than pure abstractions. But that is only one side of the story.
The other edge is increasingly visible today. Photography has become ubiquitous. With smartphones and social media, images are produced in vast numbers, often with little thought given to their immediate impact. For a growing generation, the camera is less a tool of inquiry and more a tool of display. The aim is not to understand, but to be seen. This shift is not harmless. When photography is driven by popularity and glamour, it begins to flatten what it captures. Places are reduced to aesthetic frames. People become subjects of style. Complexity gives way to the surface. In this process, photography turns back on the very communities it depicts, reinforcing shallow impressions rather than challenging them. It is here that the medium cuts most sharply, quietly, repeatedly, and often without notice.In regions that are already underrepresented, the effect is sharper still. When both outsiders and insiders produce images that prioritise spectacle over substance, the result is a cycle of misrepresentation.
One set of images simplifies from the outside; the other performs from within. Between the two, something essential is lost. This is why the need for our own photographers must be understood carefully. It is not enough to simply have local hands holding the camera. There must be a difference between a cameraman and a photographer. What matters is how the camera is used. To photograph one’s own community carries responsibility. It is the responsibility of the photographers to resist easy images, to look beyond what is immediately striking, and to present life in its fuller, more demanding reality.
To rethink the lens, then, is to recognise its double edge. Photography can expose truth, but it can also produce distortion, whether through distance or through carelessness. It can give presence, or can quietly erode it. In the end, the question is not only who holds the camera, but what they choose to do with it. Because the sharper edge of photography will always be there. The task is to ensure it does not turn against us.
At the same time, developing such photographers requires more than access to technology; it demands a cultivation of critical sensibility. Visual literacy must accompany visual production. To engage seriously with photography is to ask difficult questions about representation, ethics, and audience. It involves slowing down the act of seeing in a culture that rewards speed and immediacy.
Educational spaces, local initiatives, and community dialogues can play a role in nurturing this awareness. When photographers begin to interrogate their own gaze, they move from merely capturing images to constructing meaning. Only then can photography shift from passive recording to an active, reflective practice.
Degree of Thought is a weekly community column initiated by Tetso College in partnership with The Morung Express. Degree of Thought will delve into the social, cultural, political and educational issues around us. The views expressed here do not reflect the opinion of the institution. Tetso College is a NAAC Accredited UGC recognised Commerce and Arts College. The editorial team includes Chubamenla, Asst. Professor Dept. of English and Rinsit Sareo, Asst. Manager, IT, Media & Communications. For feedback or comments please email: dot@tetsocollege.org
