Photographers reflect on lifetime of capturing strife at Xposure
McCullin, 89, and Nachtwey, 76, have devoted their lives not just to capturing the tragedies of war, but to sparking global dialogues using the power of visual storytelling. Their haunting yet deeply human work goes beyond photojournalism, inspiring social change and reshaping public awareness.
The veteran photographers peeled back layers of conflict, ethics, and their own personal sacrifices, starting on what drew them to war photography, McCullin set an emotional tone, speaking of humble beginnings in London's East End, often surrounded by 'gangsters, criminals, even murderers in a couple of cases'.
'Eventually, because of my love of photography... it just chose me,' McCullin said. 'And once you discover photography, you fall in love with it. It bosses you around, it makes you do things that normal people don't do, especially in war zones.'
Nachtwey, who found his calling while studying political science during the Vietnam War and the US Civil Rights Movement, said, 'Photography wasn't in my background, but it was in the streets. It was showing us what the leaders weren't. Watching those images, I realised I wanted to be the one holding the camera. That kind of photography had so much power, and with it came great responsibility,' he recalled. After 10 years of self-teaching and perseverance, Nachtwey brought his camera to Northern Ireland in the early 1980s - a conflict that shaped his visual and moral foundation.
Lives and lens defined by conflict
The two veterans moved into the moral challenges of conflict photography, a recurring theme in their careers. McCullin reflected on a harrowing memory from his time in Beirut, where a distraught woman, grieving the loss of her family, attacked him. 'She was beating me with the most powerful fists. I deserved it - for my failure to consider her anguish. And later that day, I found out she was killed in another explosion. I thought 'what kind of life am I living?''
Nachtwey brought focus to the guilt that photographers like himself often carry. 'There's no escaping it. Every photograph you take in these conditions comes at someone else's worst moment. Guilt is simply something we have to live with, alongside shame. These are the realities of telling someone's story for the world, knowing you might only be showing a fraction of what they've suffered. But without these images, how do we understand the true cost of what's happening?' he asked poignantly.
They also touched on the profession's ethical dilemmas. 'We don't ask people for permission when they're dying. We can't offer them freedom from pain. I am riddled with guilt for what I've done, and yet, I know these images had to be made,' McCullin said.
This duality of purpose and burden was summarised by Nachtwey as he spoke of the necessity of their work. 'Imagine Gaza, imagine Ukraine, imagine the conflicts all around the world happening in the dark - where nobody sees, where there is no photograph to shine a light. The public needs to know, to see, because visual evidence is the only thing that transcends propaganda. War photography is a heavy weight to bear, but in some way, I believe it's the price we willingly pay for hoping to make even the smallest change.'
McCullin, however, was more sceptical. Having been fired from The Sunday Times when Rupert Murdoch's leadership shifted the focus from hard news to lifestyle content, he lamented that 'most magazines today are showing the good life. They're hiding the kind of information we desperately need. The democracy of free speech is going to be eradicated if we don't fight.'
Addressing the emotional toll of their work, McCullin – the first photojournalist to receive the CBE (Commander of the Order of the British Empire) - revealed, 'Having survived so many close calls, it's strange to think of it now. Bullets flew past my face, shrapnel struck, but nothing prepared me for realising, years later, that what I carried back wasn't physical. It was the people I photographed, their ghosts almost, who kept me awake at night.'
Nachtwey revealed how humanity often overrides a journalist's objectivity. 'I've helped carry the wounded, stopped lynch mobs, guided families through dark streets during civil unrest. We don't park our humanity at the door because we're photographers. That idea of objectivity without involvement is a myth,' said Nachtwey. The World Press Photo Award winner concluded with a message to younger photographers: 'We start off with one idea of photography, and then we learn what it really is. It's not about adventure or travel, it's about responsibility. If you're not ready to care deeply about the people you photograph, don't do this work.'
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McCullin, 89, and Nachtwey, 76, have devoted their lives not just to capturing the tragedies of war, but to sparking global dialogues using the power of visual storytelling. Their haunting yet deeply human work goes beyond photojournalism, inspiring social change and reshaping public awareness. The veteran photographers peeled back layers of conflict, ethics, and their own personal sacrifices, starting on what drew them to war photography, McCullin set an emotional tone, speaking of humble beginnings in London's East End, often surrounded by 'gangsters, criminals, even murderers in a couple of cases'. 'Eventually, because of my love of photography... it just chose me,' McCullin said. 'And once you discover photography, you fall in love with it. It bosses you around, it makes you do things that normal people don't do, especially in war zones.' Nachtwey, who found his calling while studying political science during the Vietnam War and the US Civil Rights Movement, said, 'Photography wasn't in my background, but it was in the streets. It was showing us what the leaders weren't. Watching those images, I realised I wanted to be the one holding the camera. That kind of photography had so much power, and with it came great responsibility,' he recalled. After 10 years of self-teaching and perseverance, Nachtwey brought his camera to Northern Ireland in the early 1980s - a conflict that shaped his visual and moral foundation. Lives and lens defined by conflict The two veterans moved into the moral challenges of conflict photography, a recurring theme in their careers. McCullin reflected on a harrowing memory from his time in Beirut, where a distraught woman, grieving the loss of her family, attacked him. 'She was beating me with the most powerful fists. I deserved it - for my failure to consider her anguish. And later that day, I found out she was killed in another explosion. I thought 'what kind of life am I living?'' Nachtwey brought focus to the guilt that photographers like himself often carry. 'There's no escaping it. Every photograph you take in these conditions comes at someone else's worst moment. Guilt is simply something we have to live with, alongside shame. These are the realities of telling someone's story for the world, knowing you might only be showing a fraction of what they've suffered. But without these images, how do we understand the true cost of what's happening?' he asked poignantly. They also touched on the profession's ethical dilemmas. 'We don't ask people for permission when they're dying. We can't offer them freedom from pain. I am riddled with guilt for what I've done, and yet, I know these images had to be made,' McCullin said. This duality of purpose and burden was summarised by Nachtwey as he spoke of the necessity of their work. 'Imagine Gaza, imagine Ukraine, imagine the conflicts all around the world happening in the dark - where nobody sees, where there is no photograph to shine a light. The public needs to know, to see, because visual evidence is the only thing that transcends propaganda. War photography is a heavy weight to bear, but in some way, I believe it's the price we willingly pay for hoping to make even the smallest change.' McCullin, however, was more sceptical. Having been fired from The Sunday Times when Rupert Murdoch's leadership shifted the focus from hard news to lifestyle content, he lamented that 'most magazines today are showing the good life. They're hiding the kind of information we desperately need. The democracy of free speech is going to be eradicated if we don't fight.' Addressing the emotional toll of their work, McCullin – the first photojournalist to receive the CBE (Commander of the Order of the British Empire) - revealed, 'Having survived so many close calls, it's strange to think of it now. Bullets flew past my face, shrapnel struck, but nothing prepared me for realising, years later, that what I carried back wasn't physical. It was the people I photographed, their ghosts almost, who kept me awake at night.' Nachtwey revealed how humanity often overrides a journalist's objectivity. 'I've helped carry the wounded, stopped lynch mobs, guided families through dark streets during civil unrest. We don't park our humanity at the door because we're photographers. That idea of objectivity without involvement is a myth,' said Nachtwey. The World Press Photo Award winner concluded with a message to younger photographers: 'We start off with one idea of photography, and then we learn what it really is. It's not about adventure or travel, it's about responsibility. If you're not ready to care deeply about the people you photograph, don't do this work.'
