By Faith Nyamai | Development Communication Specialist
There is a moment many communication professionals know too well.
You are in the field. The light is good. The setting tells a powerful story. Someone is willing to talk. You have your camera, your notebook, your questions—and suddenly, you see the shot.
The photograph that could bring the project to life.
The image that could make a donor stop scrolling.
The picture that could help people understand what is happening in a community they may never visit.
So you take it.
But somewhere between pressing the shutter and preparing the story for publication, there is a question we don't ask often enough:
Did we get the shot at the expense of the person?
This is a question I have learned to take seriously over the years.
As a Development Communication Specialist, I have spent years documenting the work of NGOs and development programmes. I understand the pressure. We need compelling stories. We need photographs that communicate impact. We need content that helps organisations demonstrate results and connect with donors, partners and the public.
But I have also learned something equally important:
A powerful story is not worth much if the person at the centre of it loses their dignity in the process.
People are not content
It is easy, especially when working under pressure, to start seeing people through the lens of a communications product.
A beneficiary.
A case study.
A success story.
A good photograph.
A human-interest story.
These labels may be useful for our work, but they can also make us forget something fundamental.
The person in front of our camera is not a communication asset. They are a human being.
They have a life beyond the project we are documenting. They have fears, relationships, hopes, personal histories and, sometimes, trauma.
And once their photograph, name or story enters the public domain, we cannot always control where it goes or who sees it.
That is why safeguarding should never be treated as a box we tick at the end of a field assignment.
It should be part of the story from the very beginning.
Consent is more than a signature
One of the biggest lessons I have learned is that informed consent is not simply handing someone a form and asking them to sign.
Consent should be a conversation.
Does the person understand why we want to photograph or interview them?
Do they understand where the story might appear?
Do they know that the photograph could be shared on social media, websites, reports or by partners?
Do they understand that saying no is an option?
And perhaps most importantly:
Do they genuinely feel free to say no?
This becomes particularly important when we are working with people who may be vulnerable or dependent on the services of an organisation.
A person may agree because they believe saying no could affect the assistance they receive.
That is not meaningful consent.
Our responsibility is therefore not simply to obtain permission. It is to make sure the person understands what they are agreeing to and feels able to make that choice freely.
The photograph can have consequences
Before publishing an image, I believe we should ask ourselves a simple question:
What could happen to this person because of this photograph?
Could they face stigma?
Could their family or community react negatively?
Could the image expose them to violence, discrimination or retaliation?
Could it reveal information about their health, financial situation, location or personal circumstances that they did not intend to make public?
Sometimes the answer will be obvious.
Sometimes it will be less obvious.
And sometimes the honest answer is: I'm not sure.
For me, that uncertainty is enough reason to pause.
Because when there is a possibility that our content could cause harm, getting the story out should not be more important than protecting the person.
If the photograph puts someone at risk, it is not the photograph we need.
Beyond the "victim" narrative
There is another challenge we need to confront in development communication: the way we portray people.
For years, the development sector has been criticised for images that reduce people to poverty, suffering and helplessness.
We have all seen them.
The sad face.
The empty plate.
The struggling mother.
The child looking directly into the camera.
The image designed to make the audience feel pity.
These images may generate attention. They may even help raise funds.
But they can also reinforce stereotypes and strip people of agency.
People are more than their problems.
A woman receiving support is not simply a "vulnerable beneficiary."
A young person living in poverty is not simply a "victim."
A community facing drought is not simply a "disaster story."
They are people making decisions, solving problems, raising families, organising communities and trying to build better futures.
Our storytelling should reflect that.
Nothing about us without us.
If we are going to tell someone's story, they should have a voice in how that story is told.
So, what does ethical storytelling look like?
For me, there are three non-negotiables.
1. Informed consent is a process, not a form
Explain what you are doing. Use language the person understands. Be honest about where the content may appear and what the risks could be.
And remember: consent can be withdrawn.
2. Do no harm
Before publishing, stop and think.
Could this image or story expose someone to stigma, violence, discrimination, embarrassment or other harm?
If the answer is "maybe," take another look.
The fact that we can publish something does not mean that we should.
3. Protect people's agency and dignity
Don't only tell stories about what people lack.
Tell stories about what they are doing, what they know, what they have achieved and how they are shaping their own futures.
Let people be participants in their stories—not simply subjects of them.
The responsibility behind the camera
Sometimes we talk about communication as if our biggest responsibility is to make people care.
I think there is another responsibility that comes first:
We must make sure that the people whose stories we tell are not harmed in the process of making others care.
That requires slowing down.
It requires asking uncomfortable questions.
It requires being willing to leave the camera in the bag when the circumstances are not right.
And sometimes, it means walking away from the perfect photograph.
That can be difficult.
Especially when you know the image could make a report stronger, a campaign more compelling or a donor presentation more memorable.
But there are moments when the most professional communication decision is not to publish.
Because development communication is not about extracting stories from people.
It is about amplifying voices.
And amplification should never come at the cost of dignity.
So the next time we are in the field, camera in hand, looking for that powerful image, perhaps we should ask ourselves one more question before we press the shutter:
We got the shot. But did we protect the human?
If the answer is yes, then perhaps we haven't just captured a story.
We have told it responsibly.
