Of
Crises and War
by Philippe
von Borries
In
recent weeks, the relationship between the Bush Administration and
the U.S. media has grown unusually tense. With constant new attacks
aimed at coalition targets in Iraq, the news media feel a natural
obligation to focus on the unstable security situation there.
The
administration feels that such reports paint an unnecessarily grim
picture of developments in Iraq. To shape the right image for the
eyes of the U.S. public, the Pentagon is taking an increasingly
forceful stand on denying journalists access to disturbing images
— or to individuals that may tell too harsh a story.
Regrettably,
what the Administration's policy amounts to is censorship in no
subtle form.
It
is in this context that we present photographs by Knut Müller.
Mr. Müller's pictures tell stories of war and conflict across
time and across the world. Stories of violence and gruesome murder,
of persecution and arbitrary justice.
And
while these photographs are frequently distressing, hopeless and
sad — they never fail to remind us of the importance of telling
the whole story.
Knut
Müller's series, "Of Crises and War," presents a
selection of his photo-journalistic work from 1989 to 2003. During
these 14 years, Mr. Müller documented scenes of war in Albania,
Bosnia, Somalia, Kosovo and Iraq.
About
Knut Müller
Born
in 1952 in Halle, Germany, Mr. Müller earned a university degree
in art and design in 1975. Among his key professional principles
are his insistence to create the "greatest possible confrontation
with the viewer," and the importance of documenting faces —
because in war, one can get as close as is possible to a "truthful
representation of a person's emotion." And yet, while he believes
that photographs are vital in depicting war, "they never can
tell the entire truth."
According
to his frequent travel companion, SPIEGEL journalist Claus Christian
Malzahn, Mr. Müller's most prominent characteristics are his
"resolute photographic eye," his "inner peace"
— and his tendency to get nervous when everything is calm.
Over
the years, the camera has become Mr. Müller's most valued piece
of protection — and sometimes his camera has even saved other
lives.
In
1999, for example, Mr. Müller documented the unrelenting persecution
of a Serb by a mob of Albanians right in the heart of Pristina.
His picture tells a story of incensed hatred and seething violence
of a group of young Albanian men based purely on the ethnic background
of a man going his way.
By
unyieldingly keeping his camera steady and following the mob and
its prey, Mr. Müller eventually noticed the discomfort his
pictorial documentation was creating in his subjects.
With
the help of a group of British "blue-helmets," the Serb
was eventually liberated — and Mr. Müller's camera is
likely to at least have slowed and prevented the almost imminent
death of an innocent human being.
Knut
Müller can be reached at [email protected]
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