It’s half past ten at night and I’m finally in bed after three exhausting days. It’s the security conference in Munich and I’ve been to a lot of events. I’m determined to spend the next day on the couch. Then the phone rings.
“Hey,” says my colleague, “there’s a right-wing demonstration tomorrow, but they’re not allowed to protest at the original location. A counter-demonstration has already been announced.” I think about it for a moment. I get a bad feeling – this could get dicey. It’s the security conference in Munich. The police are on alert and now this. Right-wingers who want to provoke and left-wing counter-demonstrators who are always a red rag for the police, so the baton is usually looser and the pepper spray is also quickly at hand.
I’m tired, but deep down I know I’m going to go. The topic is important to me personally and nothing is worse than hearing from colleagues afterwards what pictures you missed.
Without further ado, I get up and repack my photo backpack so that I can get going quickly the next day. Charge the batteries, format the memory cards, check the lenses. I think about the weather – it’s winter, it’s going to be cold, maybe even snowing. Good shoes and warm clothes are important.
I also pack safety goggles, a helmet and a first aid kit. You never know: flying objects, pepper spray – I’ve seen it all before.
I start the next morning with social media research. Both the right-wing party and the left-wing groups have their channels. I find calls, comments and dates. Most of it still sounds relatively peaceful, but the mood can quickly change. I make a note of the names and faces of well-known politicians so that I can recognize them later. During the train ride to the city center, I write a few general templates for captions. I’ll need them later when I’m labeling the photos.
Arrival at the demo location
I arrive around midday. The counter-demonstration is larger than expected, but the right-wing rally seems small. Nevertheless, many police officers have already positioned themselves and barriers have been erected. I stay on the sidelines for a while to get an idea: How big is the police presence? Which entrances to the square are open? How close can I get to the right-wing rally?
As soon as I’ve got my bearings, I start with overview shots. I work according to a fixed pattern: first the surroundings (prominent buildings, square situation), then the crowd (number of participants, atmosphere) and finally details (banners, signs). It is important to capture the context so that viewers later understand exactly where and in what setting the photos were taken.
I talk to some of the counter-demonstrators in between. I know some of them by sight, some by name. It’s important that they know who I am and that I’m taking photos, and it will help me later that I’ve said hello briefly. Especially when I want to take portraits, I always ask first. It’s a matter of respect – besides, nothing works without consent anyway.
I’m not the only journalist at the event. I see a few familiar faces. A quick wave, a pat on the back. “Has anything happened yet?” – “Nothing yet, everything’s quiet.” – “Have you heard anything from the other place?” – “Nah, just that they’re here now.” We’re actually competitors, because a motif only sells once. But in situations like this, we exchange information anyway. Sometimes someone taps into a good perspective or shares a tip that something exciting is happening nearby. This promotes team spirit because we know that everyone here is doing their job and we need each other to stay safe in an emergency.
I make my way to the cordoned-off assembly on the right. The police have set up barriers, I show my press card and am allowed to pass. “Obviously I don’t look like a typical participant”, I take that as a compliment. There are only a few people inside the fence. I recognize a few faces from my preliminary research: a member of the Bundestag, several members of the state parliament and the usual suspects that you always meet at such events.
As soon as I get to the event area, I’m already being photographed. That’s probably meant to intimidate us, but I’ve long since stopped being impressed by it.
I remain as neutral as possible. That’s difficult today because my sympathies clearly lie with those who oppose right-wing ideologies. I don’t want to be part of the event, I want to document what is happening. Nevertheless, I still feel a sense of incomprehension when I hear some of the slogans being shouted.
Suddenly banners are being distributed, a new motif. I start working again: Overviews, close-ups of the signs, portraits of the speakers. A few colleagues are also here and we quietly discuss how the situation is going so far. Everyone agrees: it’s still surprisingly peaceful.
During the speech, the counter-demonstration approaches the fence. Some shout loudly, there are whistles and chants. The police reposition themselves, still relaxed but noticeably more alarmed. I decide that I now want to document more from the outside. So I leave the cordoned-off area again.
As soon as I’m outside, an umbrella slams in front of my lens. A protester, who obviously thinks I’m one of the right-wing streamers, blocks my path. I react angrily at first: freedom of the press is important! Fortunately, bystanders clear up the situation and we can have a quick chat. Sorry, it’s all good. I realize how emotional people are.
The situation doesn’t really seem to be changing. It’s cold, the speeches drag on and I’m already wondering whether I should drive home slowly. Then a colleague turns up. “Have you heard? The member of the Bundestag is supposed to want to go to the original location with a few people. Most of the right-wingers are staying here so that the police are distracted.”
So no trip home after all. We ponder what the best strategy is: stay here to see when they leave? Or go straight to the memorial? We decide to drive ahead. Sometimes you have to speculate. 95% of the time is spent waiting and watching, but in the remaining 5% you have to react quickly to catch the decisive picture.
We drive a few streets further to the memorial. There are flowers, candles, people mourning silently. I could take photos, but it seems inappropriate. These people want a moment of silence, not to stare into lenses. Photographing other colleagues is also legitimate – everyone decides for themselves. I stay in the background for now.
Gradually, more people from the left are coming. They have obviously heard the rumors and want to prevent the right-wingers from provoking people here. The police are present with a patrol car and two contact officers are standing by. Everything is still quiet. I wait.
Then I see them: a group around the member of the Bundestag appears in the distance. The mourners join in and form a human chain around the memorial site.
The deputy runs towards the human chain, drops back theatrically and complains loudly. *Click. Then he tries again and is again met with resistance. *Click. Words are exchanged and the police seem overwhelmed.
Inwardly, I find it difficult to remain neutral. I understand and support the position of the human chain, but as a journalist I keep a low profile. Openly closing ranks would rob me of the objectivity that my work requires.
After a while, the situation becomes static. The right-wingers try in vain to get through a few times and then finally give up. They leave their flowers in a nearby bush and retreat. Exhausted but relieved faces on the side of the counter-demonstrators.
Home at last – but the real work is just beginning
At the end of the action, I take a few last pictures: a few portraits and overviews of the people who stayed. Then I say goodbye to my colleagues. As I leave, I quickly make a note of names, situations and keywords – everything that is important when I sit down at the computer.
At home, I import around 1500 pictures. Sorting is tedious, but necessary. First, I remove all the blurred and duplicate photos. Then I roughly assign metadata: Date, event location, keywords such as “right-wing demo”, “counter-demonstration”, “police”, “human chain”. This is the only way editors can find what they need later.
I don’t particularly like this part of the work, but it is crucial. Without the right keywording and a short image description, nothing works in the editorial offices. A perfectly composed photo can be worthless if no one discovers it in the database. So I do it thoroughly: adjust the exposure, correct the white balance, make small retouches. Then I provide each image with a precise description.
I can only switch off after uploading to the server. It’s getting late, once again. My feet hurt, my head is buzzing, but I’m satisfied. I’ve documented everything important. Tomorrow is another day, and maybe the phone will ring again.
Conclusion – 95% waiting, 5% 2% adrenaline
Most of the time you stand around, watch and wait. But in those rare moments when something really important happens, you have to react at lightning speed. There’s no time to think about camera settings. In these moments I work intuitively. The aim is to find images that capture the situation as vividly as possible.
In the end, I have the feeling that I have captured something important. Especially when it comes to emotional and political topics, it’s my job to report neutrally. I’m certainly not always perfect at it, but I do my best to show both sides – as far as I can represent them to myself.
