Befitting her recognized genius by the MacArthur Foundation, Corinne Dufka has published a master stroke of photo-journalism. This Is War (G Editions: New York) is a collection of combat photos taken over a decade during her life working on the frontlines.
This Is War is important because it reinforces the profound and oft-forgotten words of Martha Gellhorn, “Unless they are immediate victims, the majority of mankind behaves as if war was an act of God, which could not be prevented, or they behave as if war elsewhere was none of their business.”
This Is War is important because it reminds us that while we obsess over a new NFL fan base emerging among young women consumed by the antics of Taylor Swift, a mother is being shot in the head while walking to the market in a fog that she’d hoped would hide her from snipers.
While we laud rappers extolling the virtues of guns and gangstas and life on the hard urban streets, a young man wearing only flip flops and a threadbare T-shirt is armed to the teeth in the latest killing gear and ready to fight others who look just like him over political power and resources they will never share, regardless who wins.
Down the block, there's a man headed into battle wearing a white collared polo shirt with a soccer insignia that might as well be pajamas and fuzzy slippers for all its suitability in battle. His companion leads the way wearing running shoes, construction gloves (a nice touch of irony amidst the destruction and rubble); he also wears a life preserver like it’s a bulletproof vest.
While we in the West praise God en masse but avoid church service in droves, an old woman stands by her version of God in a basilica decimated by mortar fire.
As we sit down to watch a full slate of football games on US Thanksgiving, or just as we uncork a tasty Cabernet later during this holiday season, an emaciated couple (maybe nearing middle age but looking much older) are staggering into a cholera infested refugee camp hoping to find an aid station that might have food made scarce by men purporting to build a better world through armed conflict. The couple’s starvation is one pain, but Ms. Dufka shows us that they probably had to abandon their children along the road, because in the face of war they were only able to save themselves. That notion is heartbreaking enough, but then Ms. Dufka raises the stakes even higher with the shot of a dying woman trying to breastfeed her baby as she lies nearly comatose in an open field next to rows of corpses.
These are the images. But there are other unmentioned, ubiquitous elements to Ms. Dufka’s work: raw, unrestrained emotion in the face of death, expressions that range from abject terror to smug indifference - utter confusion among the elderly caught up in another assault and unbridled confidence of youth feeling secure and even gleeful with their semi-automatic weapons and RPGs.
And guns! My God, there are guns – enough to make The Matrix look restrained. And Ms. Dufka reminds us that there are many – too many! – children carrying this artillery with evil intent. And while it’s possible to square a man casually smoking a cigarette at his post while draped in an ammunition belt holding enough ordnance to kill everyone in the photograph thrice over, it’s more difficult to reconcile the child holding a rifle while playing with a toy – a foot in both worlds of innocence and violence.
Admittedly, This Is War does not include the instantaneous shock and serendipity of a Death of A Spanish Loyalist or Saigon Execution; nevertheless, Ms. Dufka is working at the pointed end of the stick, not just where danger lurks but where it’s in your face and sneering.
Ms. Dufka went where the rest of us feared to tread. She documented the terror without flinching as sad, confused, desperate souls stare back at her camera. Yet, of all the hundreds of photos, only one shows anger directed at the journalist – a man carrying a loved one to a hospital transport – a man probably angry about her proximity, as if she might be blocking his path, rather than for her intrusion into the most important moment of his life.
Then there are the bodies. A few crumpled and fetal, others splayed out in the star position, as if ready to do snow angels in the dust. There are the newly dead in the street, guts eviscerated; then there are those who sought safety in a house of worship, now desiccated shells scattered across a dirt floor as a janitor with a broom looks at the mess from the doorway, unsure if this now is somehow his responsibility.
It is impossible to unsee the images presented in Corinne Dufka’s photographs. It’s unlikely that anyone with the courage to look at her work will misunderstand war ever again. Only those consumed by celebrity gossip, personal glorification on Instagram, and streaming cat videos will continue to assume that war is an act of unavoidable God, or an unfortunate series of events that are none of their business.
Corinne Dufka proves otherwise.
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