![Photographer Corinne Dufka’s New E book Tells the Story of Conflict Photographer Corinne Dufka’s New E book Tells the Story of Conflict](https://nrkma.com/wp-content/uploads/https://cdn.theatlantic.com/thumbor/atuq9nVBoi4VrfrFIxtDju_27NI=/0x188:1498x968/1200x625/media/img/mt/2023/11/El_Salvador_3_Corinne_Dufka/original.jpg)
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This Is Conflict advanced out of my work as a photographer overlaying among the bloodiest conflicts of the late twentieth century. The imagery will not be fairly, nor may or not it’s. However seeing it—wanting squarely on the distress delivered by leaders who promised to do good for his or her individuals—is necessary. Greater than that, refusing to see it, whether or not out of non-public or political discomfort, is a type of misinformation.
The ebook tells the story of battle by means of the experiences of each civilians and combatants. The civilians had been coming into a labyrinth of grief that they’d occupy for the remainder of their lives. Most of the combatants naively seen battle as a possibility, solely to find that their our bodies had been mere fodder for the highly effective.
I first picked up a digital camera in El Salvador within the mid-Eighties. I photographed the our bodies that the infamous demise squads left on road corners at night time. Within the early ’90s, I used to be posted to the previous Yugoslavia, and later, to Africa. Unscrupulous leaders, pushed by ego, revenue, and ethnic, non secular, or nationalist agendas, waged battle on civilians and turned villages into killing fields.
To be a battle photographer is to forge an intimate relationship with the useless and dying. We occupy disparate worlds, empathizing with these reeling from profound loss, even whereas interacting with those that take human lives. To witness brutality is to maintain psychic harm: What the attention sees, the mind information and can’t erase. For the battle photographer, the conjunction of horror and alternative provides an extra twist.
![Picture of women and children waving to their loved ones as humanitarian convoys evacuated to safety hundreds of women, children, and the elderly suffering from indiscriminate attacks, hunger, and hardship.](https://cdn.theatlantic.com/thumbor/GY9292gEugii5PYFaF9BNOws5x4=/0x0:1500x1000/928x619/media/img/posts/2023/11/Bosnia_45_Corinne_Dufka/original.jpg)
![Picture of Muslim women and children, who typically do not attend burials, grieving the deaths of several children killed by mortar fire.](https://cdn.theatlantic.com/thumbor/crSKDiOq_c4jS7rFGgwN6hRAdFo=/0x0:1500x1000/928x619/media/img/posts/2023/11/Bosnia_48_Corinne_Dufka/original.jpg)
I understood this ambivalence whereas photographing road battles between rival militias in Monrovia, Liberia, in 1996. I came across a person foraging for meals in a destroyed store. A bunch of fighters pounced on him. They ignored his pleas for mercy as they dragged him by means of the streets and, moments later, executed him.
Growing the movie within the quiet of my lodge room, I retched as I relived what I had seen an hour earlier: A bunch of youngsters stripped an unarmed man who didn’t anticipate to die that day to his underwear and socks and murdered him in a ditch for no obvious purpose. However I used to be additionally gratified after I found that the photographs had been in focus and highly effective. I knew they’d distinguish my profession, and so they did.
![Picture of Liberia](https://cdn.theatlantic.com/thumbor/88Y-RM1f6BnoJuBktWYJOIIsmcM=/0x0:1500x1000/928x619/media/img/posts/2023/11/Liberia_16_Corinne_Dufka/original.jpg)
![Picture of Liberian civilians crowding onto a ship to escape heavy fighting in the Liberian capital](https://cdn.theatlantic.com/thumbor/sFCKjK_dTVRfytkJeR5jtwmdzIQ=/0x0:1500x1000/928x619/media/img/posts/2023/11/Liberia_7_Corinne_Dufka/original.jpg)
My life as a battle photographer was punctuated by such moments of cognitive dissonance. Photographing the wounded in frenetic hospitals, moms rocking in grief, troopers stepping on land mines, and militiamen taunting, torturing, and killing each other, I wrestled with the attention that probably the most painful episodes of those individuals’s lives had been additionally events on which part of me thrived.
I produced this work at a frenzied tempo: airport, battle, {photograph}, airport, battle, repeat. My pictures uncovered atrocities, signaled the beginnings of epidemics, and set off alarms in world capitals. However because the years handed, I grew to become conscious that with every battle, what I gained in stature as a photojournalist, I misplaced in human empathy.
The belief drove me from my occupation and led me to a different: documenting battle crimes in West Africa for a human-rights group by the use of witness testimony. Immersing myself in a world of coverage, justice, and state constructing, I labored to cease the atrocities I had witnessed as a battle photographer. I had a daughter, I fostered a son, and I didn’t look again.
![Picture of wounded FLMN combatants, including a little boy who sits beneath the amputated leg of his father, occupy the national cathedral to demand medical care.](https://cdn.theatlantic.com/thumbor/Xrlp5khePL26fAR-7KPx4oudKCo=/0x0:4000x2667/928x619/media/img/posts/2023/11/El_Salvador_42_Corinne_Dufka-1/original.jpg)
![Picture of a little boy, wounded when a shell was lobbed by Bosnian Croat forces into the Muslim quarter of Mostar, stands in his destroyed home.](https://cdn.theatlantic.com/thumbor/cVlEBbIjAAH9VtL9SEwjMHqV-yM=/0x0:4320x2880/928x619/media/img/posts/2023/12/Bosnia_10_Corinne_Dufka/original.jpg)
I stuffed containers of negatives from my photojournalism days into footlockers. After which, 20 years later, I pulled them out once more and noticed the photographs I’d made by means of a distinct prism. I had spent a long time analyzing how states fail and why wars persist. Elevating kids had perpetually altered my understanding of the aching magnitude of loss, and the way this loss, if not managed, drives ever extra violence.
This Is Conflict represents a deeply private journey—a reckoning with what I witnessed over a tumultuous decade and the toll it took on me. However the ebook can be my contribution to the historic document of the conflicts coated and the position ladies have performed in battle photojournalism.
![Picture of a man wounded during an Eritrean air attack on a civilian neighborhood in the capital of Ethiopia’s northern Tigray Region, being carried from the scene minutes after the attack.](https://cdn.theatlantic.com/thumbor/sh41fDkFBe236dM991lhINObkkk=/0x0:1500x1000/928x619/media/img/posts/2023/11/Ethiopia_9_Corinne_Dufka/original.jpg)
![Rwanda](https://cdn.theatlantic.com/thumbor/FrSQ8mZ68-DMTcudJ5kQvpu4eCg=/0x0:1500x1000/928x619/media/img/posts/2023/11/Rwanda_26_Corinne_Dufka/original.jpg)
My work can be a name for reflection on why conflicts relapse. Method too most of the pictures I took a long time in the past could possibly be taken as we speak. On the time of writing, battle has returned to Sudan, whereas within the Democratic Republic of Congo, it by no means left. El Salvador’s ideological battle has been changed by bloody gang violence. In Bosnia, ethnic tensions are on the rise. In too many locations, the elements that drove conflicts in a long time previous—predatory governance, corruption, and crushing poverty—proceed unabated. These pictures are a reminder that the elements of the world which might be damaged nonetheless want a sturdy repair.
To be the final individual a dying girl, or a condemned man, sees on Earth is a morally uncomfortable factor, but additionally one which conveys a sure duty. Conflict photographers are historians, artists, trespassers, and emotional bandits with difficult motives, some virtuous, some not. The photographs themselves, at their finest, extract the essence of battle, beseeching the viewer to honor those that have perished and to guard the remainder of humanity from its worst, most abject failure: its capability for battle.
This text was excerpted from Corinne Dufka’s ebook This Is Conflict: A Decade of Battle: Pictures
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