The Ethics of Street Photography – Part 1

The Ethics of Street Photography – Part 1

Many of us are familiar—whether by name or merely by sight—with Henri Cartier-Bresson’s photograph On the Banks of the Marne, France. In it, a group of mature men and women recline beside the river; in the foreground, one man pours wine as a picnic unfolds. A boat drifts lazily on the Marne in the background. Most viewers would count four adults participating in the scene. I would argue there are five, and possibly even six.

The fifth is the photographer. Not merely an observer, he is, in a sense, a participant—though uninvited. His presence is felt through the frame he composed, yet that presence was unacknowledged at the time, as any explicit consent would have disrupted the spontaneity that defines the image. The sixth guest is us: the viewer. We, too, arrive uninvited, and although our intrusion occurs after the fact, it remains an intrusion nonetheless. This photograph is iconic. But is it ethical? Are these two unseen guests—the photographer and the audience—standing on firm ethical ground?

The moment one begins to discuss street photography, one almost inevitably drifts into the fraught waters of ethics. At its core, street photography is concerned with the candid: a moment unposed, unrehearsed, and unguarded. By its very nature, the candid implies an asymmetry—one party (the photographer) is fully aware of what is unfolding, while the other (the subject) is entirely unaware. Power, in such encounters, rests heavily with the photographer. The subject, no matter how briefly, occupies a position of vulnerability, and perhaps even one of exploitation.

Of course, there is no shortage of posed and consensual images in the world—many of them excellent. But they rarely possess the same visceral immediacy or narrative power that a truly candid photograph offers. We, as the sixth person at the picnic, feel immersed not simply because the image is beautiful, but because the subjects do not acknowledge our gaze. They do not break the fourth wall. They do not ruin our voyeurism. This is the peculiar allure of the unposed—it grants us license to witness without participation.

But how troubling can this really be? After all, Robert Frank, William Klein, Vivian Maier, Garry Winogrand, Diane Arbus—weren’t they all doing the same thing? And haven’t they been rightly celebrated for creating some of the most significant images of the twentieth century? That may be true, but it does not necessarily follow that their methods were ethically sound. Nor does it mean that they themselves considered the ethical implications of their practice. I’ve been photographing candid moments on the street for well over a decade—and only now do I find myself seriously reflecting on the moral dimensions of what I’ve been doing.

Copyright ⓒ Michael Ernest Sweet

It is often argued that public space is just that—public. Isn’t it therefore legal to photograph people in it? In the United States, this is largely correct: photographing individuals in public, without their consent, is generally legal—with a few clear exceptions. In other countries, however, the boundaries differ. France, for instance, may permit the taking of such photographs, but imposes significant restrictions on how they may be used or disseminated. In short, the legal question is jurisdiction-dependent and complicated. But legality is not our concern here. Ethics and legality, though often conflated, are not synonymous.

So, what is ethics? Before we continue, it is worth attempting—however briefly—to frame the concept. Ethics resists simple definition; it is a philosophical construct that quickly becomes opaque. A more practical approach may be to offer a set of associative terms: integrity, responsibility, conscience, fairness, value, principle, honesty, choice, and moral judgment. These words may help you begin to formulate your own ethical framework—one that can guide your approach to photography.

When we weigh these terms seriously, we can begin to interrogate our practice with greater care. Our questions must go beyond what rights we possess as photographers. We must also ask: what responsibilities do we bear? This is the terrain where the most difficult and illuminating dilemmas reside—where public space collides with private moments, where documentary value teeters on the edge of exploitation.

From these broader tensions emerge even more nuanced concerns. Consider, for instance, the dilemma of contextual integrity in the age of global image sharing. A candid photograph may feel ethically sound within the confines of a larger body of work—a considered visual essay or thematic exploration. But what happens when that same image escapes its context, circulates online, and takes on a life of its own? What if the subject, once anonymous, is suddenly identified or ridiculed—or simply turned into a meme?

These are the kinds of questions we will continue to explore in this three-part series on the ethics of street photography. In the next instalment, we’ll examine how different ethical frameworks—utilitarian, deontological, relational—might guide or complicate our decisions as photographers.

Stay tuned!