Since taking office last year, Philippines President Rodrigo Duterte has undertaken a “war on drugs” that has killed over 12,000 Filipinos, mostly urban poor. “In the first place, I’d like to be frank with you: are they humans?” said Duterte of those killed when he was accused of crimes against humanity.
Hannah Reyes Morales was living in Cambodia when she started to see photographs of the carnage coming out of her native Philippines. “I saw Raffy Lerma’s work and it was hard for me to look away,” said Morales. “Fights were breaking out online between people I knew — those who supported Duterte, and those who opposed him.” Morales and her husband decided to move home, and Morales joined the ranks of Filipino photographers covering the war.
This week, BRIGHT is partnering with Women Photograph to spotlight female photographers covering calamities around the world.
BRIGHT: Why was the drug war in the Philippines the story you wanted to tell?
Thousands of people have been slain in the drug war since Duterte took office. All this turbulence brought me and my husband Jon, who works in economic reform, back home to the Philippines. Coming home was difficult. I was assigned to cover the night shift a few days after our move. I was horrified by what I saw but I was also moved by the Filipino journalists who were getting the story out night after night, despite the difficult political climate.
BRIGHT: What makes this story a calamity?
HRM: Even beyond the death toll, there are going to be long-term consequences. What effect does it have on communities to constantly witness death, or constantly fear for their lives? What effect does it have on widows and the children who are left behind?
The urgency of the issue continues to be dismissed by many of our leaders and countrymen. Children are being killed and they’ve been called the ‘collateral damage’ of this bloody war. A culture of impunity is deepening and institutions are eroding. Chito Gascon, chairman of the Philippine Commission for Human Rights was quoted by Reuters as saying, “No one is ever held to account for the worst violations. Ever.”
BRIGHT: Why is it important for women to cover calamity? Why is women’s representation in journalism important?
HRM: Women’s visions need to be part of the media landscape.Daniella Zalcman put it perfectly in a tweet after Nikon Asia chose 32 brand ambassadors who were all men:
A big component of storytelling is what you notice and people from different backgrounds notice different things. We live in a diverse world and this diversity should be reflected in the voices that tell our stories.
Both growing up and when I was starting out as a photographer, I was so influenced by the colonial mentality that’s ingrained in my country. It was so deeply embedded in me that I didn’t believe anything I said, thought, or noticed was valuable enough to have a place in international media. It did not help that the photographs available in the bookshops I visited were taken mostly by white men.
Coming across women photographers is what gave me an inkling that having a place in this industry was even remotely possible. At 14, I saved up for Annie Griffiths’ book, “A Camera, Two Kids, and a Camel”, and for the first time I was seeing documentary photography through the eyes of a woman. It was life-changing. I discovered there were things I could access that men couldn’t.
Entering the industry was not easy — I was constantly dismissed and discouraged, both by colleagues and people I met when photographing. But this made me see things from a different angle. The hardship I faced growing up and starting out became instrumental in my ability to tell stories with nuance.
BRIGHT: Tell us about someone who stuck with you after your reporting ended?
On my first day covering the story we photographed the body of Jhay Lord Clemente. I witnessed a whole family see their father, their son, their brother dead on the ground. Their dog sat silently on a discarded couch beside the body. I helped the family raise funds so they would not go in debt to bury Jhay. During the funeral, his sister was video calling from the Middle East, where she is a domestic worker. I watched his mom sleep on a plastic couch beside her son’s coffin. His daughter is taking time off school. I’m still in touch with them, their story never leaves me.
Months after the death of Jhay Lord I photographed his family again in the house Jhay Lord built before he died. His brother Jerome was holding his newborn son, who is named after Jhay Lord — they say he is the spitting image of his slain uncle. We sat together and spoke in hushed voices. They have been watching the news. They monitor the stories of those who’ve died. There was one in Pasay yesterday, did you hear about the eight on Thursday? They no longer talk about justice. Instead, they sit in the house that Jhay Lord built, and gather around baby Jhay Lord, talking about the future that lies ahead of him.
BRIGHT: Any glimmers of hope? Were there any people or institutions that were making a significant dent on this problem?
HRM: I look up to the Filipino reporters and photographers who were there night after night, from the very first month. Their commitment to the story taught me a lot. The local media connected victims with people who were able to support them. Storytelling from local outlets was instrumental in many discussions, even as reporters received accusations and threats. This was a story where the photographs played a major role in the mass discourse.
A close friend dates a supporter of the current administration and it was heartbreaking for me that she didn’t believe this was a real problem. It made me feel hopeless. But one day she wrote to say she had seen the photographs from the drug war; the images woke her up. Although the problem persists I really do believe the photographs put a face to the numbers. They allowed more people to witness the harrowing things we saw. More organizations were spurred to action from the reporting. None of this would have come to light if not for the very first wave of local reporters saying: this really is happening.
BRIGHT: Women Photograph recently had an exhibit at PHOTOVILLE called Insider/Outsider, do you identify as an insider or an outsider in the community where you photographed? How did this affect your work?
HRM: I straddle both, but for this story I felt more like an outsider. I am Filipino and there were killings just a few blocks from the house I grew up in. But I can’t ever know the pain of having a loved one slain, or not having time to mourn because you have to hide, or worrying about the amount of money you need to bury a loved one. I can try to imagine but I know I’ll never fully understand the pain they live each day. In the meantime, I attempt to make sense of what is in front of me through the camera — it is a bridge that helps me understand deeper, even though I am an outsider.
