SELFIES are not my speciality. I also tend to avoid weddings, birthday parties or tourist spots. On the other hand, complete strangers handing me their mobile phone and asking me to take a photo, I can cope with. I’ve even saved a few tourists from potential disaster as they risked life and limb to take a picture of themselves in a precarious ‘I was there’ moment.
Yet I am constantly being asked to take photographs by people close to me. I oblige grudgingly. Partly because I am sure my photos would be no better than those by anyone else in what is invariably a boring situation. I do of course take photos. Lots of them and constantly. I’m sure sometimes to the annoyance of the people around me. I respond to light, moments, interesting juxtapositions. Some of which turn out to be interesting for unpredictable reasons.
There are, however, other aspects to social photography that I find fascinating. Photography has currency. Currency which changes with time. I use it as a means of declaring a political position. As a statement. I’m often asked, ‘What is the best camera?’ As meaningless a question as, ‘What is the best pen?’ and perhaps less so, ‘What is the best computer?’ Horses for courses, is what I would normally reply to such questions but when it comes to cameras, I have a different answer. ‘The best camera is the one you have with you,’ is what I usually say. Each camera has characteristics that lend themselves to situations in a unique way. A small inconspicuous camera may well be better in some situations than a hefty Hasselblad, though if I were being given an option for gifts, I would surely go with the latter. The reverse may also be true. The opportunities where the Hasselblad will work better is limited to a few situations where its superior optics and its reliability, amongst many other qualities, will give it an edge. In many other situations, a decent mobile phone will outperform the Hasselblad with considerably less hassle, and at my age, the probability of back pain. More importantly, I’d be less likely to miss the moment. It’s the ‘you have it with you’ argument that is the most significant for me. The ubiquitousness of the smart phone, makes it highly likely that, at any given moment, someone is in a position to photograph you. That is a mode of surveillance that Pegasus will not be able to match. Pretty much any act of significance in the public domain will have been recorded by someone, somewhere, and in the age of social media, will be scrutinised, debated and argued about, with the photo being used (and abused) as evidence.
Some find my camera obtrusive and I try to be respectful when I read the resentment. Others ignore me. Some enjoy the act of being photographed and make an effort at presenting their best ‘photo self.’ They straighten their collar, fix their hair. Sometimes they smile. Sometimes the camera becomes an interface that leads to a relationship between the photographer and the subject in unusual ways. There are times when I put away my ‘camera’ deliberately. Simply the presence of my iPhone makes it difficult for me to enjoy a live play. I switch to photographer mode, seduced by the theatrical light, intrigued by the composition, often switching off from the play in the process. I have to force myself to switch off the photographer and switch into audience mode. I don’t always succeed. I suspect it also happens to film buffs or music aficionados. In my case, even putting the camera away doesn’t always work. The photographer inside me can’t help it. At other times, the same trip to work that I’ve made thousands of times, becomes a new experience. A new discovery. The shifting visuals with time and circumstance makes each trip a stimulating adventure. For such journeys, bicycles are much better than cars. Walking is best.
Fake news aside, this photography space opens up a whole new world of power dynamics. I’ve generally been on the receiving end of undue government attention, whichever regime was in power. A loaded gun was held to my head during the Ershad regime. I received eight knife wounds during BNP rule, Awami League abducted and tortured me and put me in jail. I continue to appear in court every month, six years after I was falsely charged under a law that was repealed in 2018. (There is an irony to the date of my abduction now, 5th August 2018. Hasina fled Bangladesh the same date this year). In end-2018, the government had rigged yet another election. On release from prison, I quickly realised how much of a pariah I was, when Drik lost all its corporate clients. A managing director of a multinational company called me on the landline to tell me, ‘Nothing personal Shahidul, but it’s too dangerous for me to answer your phone calls.’ An ambassador who had made the mistake of posting his selfie with me on social media got rapped on the knuckles by our ministry of foreign affairs. He promptly issued a warning, ‘no selfies with Shahidul.’ We remain friends. A minister sent me a surreptitious message at a VIP reception, suggesting we maintain a distance, as he could get into trouble if photographed with me. The average person was far more gutsy. In the streets, in market places, at airport lounges and at public events, things were very different. People, mostly youngsters, would come over and ask for selfies. I have no idea where these selfies ended up, but that the youngstersÌý were making a political statement by being photographed with me in public, was a clear message to the people around and to the ruling elite. I’m not sure if they got into trouble as a result, but I am sure there were angry Awami League types, or the usual tiktiki (lit. Gecko, meaning ‘agency’ people) in the background, making notes.
The posh La Galleri in Banani has long folded. My weakness for the place also had to do with the excellent Italian ice cream they served. The area hadn’t by then been labelled (along with Gulshan and Baridhara), the Tri-state area. It was the only private gallery in town. Understandably, that was where the Tri-state elite would gather. It was the days of film and way before mobile phones. The word selfie hadn’t yet been coined. I still carried my SLR camera around, loaded with Kodak TMAX 400 black and white film. I would still shoot whatever caught my eye. My contact sheets were my visual diary. It was many years later while working on an exhibition and a book by Steidl during Documenta 15, that I began to work on my manuscript for the book ‘Listening to my archives.’ I couldn’t help smiling when I saw this frame under the loupe. The characters on the left, with the video camera, in Folder 6, Roll 116, Frame 25A, Tawfique Nawaz, was the husband of Dipu Moni a member of the Awami League who went on to become foreign minister, then education minister and, most recently, social welfare minister.
Sitting on his right, watching, was colonel Syed Faruque Rahman. The colonel had been involved in the coup where Hasina’s father Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, and 16 other members of her family, had been killed.
On 5th August 2024, Awami League leader Sheikh Hasina fled to neighbouring India. The giant statue she had built of her father had been unceremoniously brought down that day. Dipu Moni is currently in a Dhaka jail.
Had this photo been published while Hasina had been in power, it would certainly have gotten Dipu Moni into deep trouble. Had Faruque been alive today, after Hasina’s departure, he might well have become a hero for having assassinated Mujib.
Now that Hasina has been deposed, the tables have turned again. I had more selfies taken in Shahbagh on 5th August 2024, than I’ve ever had before. But these were mostly the same youngsters who had taken selfies with me earlier, during the Hasina regime, in defiance of the ruling elite. The selfies of 5th August were pure celebration. What intrigues me are the new people who now want selfies. These are people who were conspicuously quiet during the dictator’s rule lapping up any favours available. They sold their souls to the devil in exchange for however many pounds of flesh they could muster. Suddenly, they have now become ardent supporters of democracy. They’ve deleted every instagram and Facebook post with their favourite ‘apa,’ which they had previously displayed with gusto. These are the new selfies which will make their way onto social media posts as they try to worm their way back into favour.
I’ve suddenly become camera shy.
Ìý
Shahidul Alam is a photographerÌýand activist.