It was Greek dramatist Aeschylus (525 BC – 456 BC) who wrote: “In war, truth is the first casualty.” Photographer, journalist and Academy Award-nominated filmmaker (for his documentary Restrepo) Tim Hetherington was the man who tried to prove otherwise.
War’s casualties have never felt more cruel.
Tim Hetherington, always a seeker of truth, was killed yesterday while covering the conflict in Misrata, Libya. Chris Hondros, a Pulitzer Prize-nominated photographer was also killed. Two other photographers, Guy Martin and Chris Brown, were injured. There is always an understanding of (and no way to prepare for) the possibility that those who follow their mission into the war zone may not make it back alive. Unfortunately it is a given that comes with the territory. There is even less inclination to prepare for the possibility that someone who is in that war zone not as a soldier, but as a journalist, will be among the fallen.
News of Tim’s death first came via Facebook. (It was an honor to be one of the 1,197 friends that stayed in touch with Tim and his work on Facebook, where he was sometimes known as ‘The Timinator.’) It was here that his friend and fellow photographer in Libya, André Liohn, posted the news that no one ever wants to read. As has become my habit with breaking news, I checked Twitter for the latest update. The last tweet on his Twitter account was posted on Tuesday and read “In besieged Libyan city of Misrata. Indiscriminate shelling by Qaddafi forces. No sign of NATO.”
I’m sure that Tim and I had differing opinions of this ongoing series of wars in our life. I don’t mean this in terms of “pro” or “con.” I mean this in terms of how we based our opinions, whatever they were. How could we not? Our very understandings of the war(s) were vastly differently-informed. He was there and I was not. These wars that filled our headlines were wars that he saw and breathed… But then again, for 93 minutes, sitting in the darkened cinema, I had the opportunity to see and breathe the Korengal Valley as if I were there. Tim would say that his goal was to take an audience to a remote place that they could never get to without his help. And so he did, bravely. He and Sebastian Junger had the vision to step aside from the center of the story and let the camera capture simply what was. It was a bold idea that inspired many viewers to take a closer look at a war they thought they knew. More importantly, it allowed people to see up-close the lives of the actual soldiers that fight our wars. In doing so, the film gave audiences a deeper understanding of what is asked of soldiers in a time of war, and what responsibilities we have to them.
Here’s a short installation piece Tim made that is a precursor/supplement to Restrepo, titled Sleeping Soldiers — (2009) Camera + Directed by Tim Hetherington, Edit + Sound design by Magali Charrier.
(In Tim’s own words): “The work was made in 2007-8 while I was following a platoon of US Airborne Infantry based in the Korengal Valley of Eastern Afghanistan. This is a single screen version of the original 3-screen installation that was first show in New York in 2009 (the original 3-screen version was designed as an immerisve installation, and not for the small screen).”
Sleeping Soldiers_single screen (2009) from Tim Hetherington on Vimeo.
Yesterday, the Hetherington family released a statement saying, “It is with great sadness we learned that our son and brother photographer and filmmaker Tim Hetherington was killed today in Misrata, Libya by a rocket-propelled grenade. Tim will be remembered for his amazing images and for the documentary Restrepo which he co-produced with his friend Sebastian Junger. That film was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Documentary in 2011. Tim was in Libya to continue his ongoing multimedia project to highlight humanitarian issues during time of war and conflict. He will be forever missed.”
Here was Tim’s last message posted on his Facebook page (written the day after the Academy Awards):
“I’m particularly proud of my ‘community’ – people who dedicate their lives to inform us about world despite the difficulties, dangers, and criticisms inherent in making such communication. You all rock. Thanks too to those who let us intrude into their lives. Finally, thanks to my friends, family, and colleagues for the support over the years and for putting up with me – I love you all. And now I guess it’s forwards.”
No, Tim, it is us who are proud — proud to have known you, and proud of your noble dream to record and share the truth in all of its complexity… and even its simplicity.
This article originally appeared at Parcbench.
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