In English class in sixth year my teacher used to pass around copies of this photograph whenever we were feeling especially sorry for ourselves/stressed/self deprecating. His message was more than a futile attempt to make us appreciate the lives we had. It makes us consider ethics, morals, obligations, rights. Should the photographer have helped the little girl reach the feeding center, should he have left her there to work out her own fate as the vulture looms in the background, is it important to always report the truth, in its most incredibly raw form? Was he right to leave the child in the capable but overworked hands of the aid workers, or should he have taken the child’s fate into his own unqualified hands? Is it correct to report things which people have a right to know, while possibly infringing on a persons right to live? Admittedly he did help the girl, chasing off the vulture before it struck, but did his failure to help her on her journey make him as much of a predator as the bird itself, capturing her frail form in its most vulnerable state when help was most needed. Haunted by the memories of all that he witnessed, by his own “failures” and the hardship of daily life, he later killed himself, so is he a victim too of the pain that he captured ? These are some of the question which might creep into your head, and indeed did mine as we sat in silence passing the image from person to person. Some people refused to look at it, stating that they were squeamish or that it made them uncomfortable. Does ignoring something make it go away, would you put your comfort over someone else’s life ? Do you ignore the plight of those in far off lands because it seems too unreal/makes you feel too uncomfortable/you can’t relate/ it’s upsetting to see? Do you ignore people on the street, that clearly don’t have much in life, do you walk by them and refuse to look in their direction for fear that they’d ask you for help, or attempt to strike up a conversation with you? Would you have helped this little girl, even while there were so many others around you, around her, clinging onto the very fabrics of their existence…? These classes, though silent,made us question everything, we were allowed to step outside ourselves, to argue against everything that we’ve ever believed in without feeling guilty or inhumane, forget everything we knew to be right and wrong and to assess something in a completely impartial way and to realise that a difference of opinion is okay. Whenever I reflect on my time in school, I will always think of this image, this girl, those classes and of him and remember that some decisions are easy and some are hard, and no matter what, that we will be judged and have to live with the decisions we have made, but that they are ours to make, and ours alone and that we must look at things from every situation, every direction and know that people will most likely only see if from their own and form opinions based on minimal facts and no matter where we are, we can never truly know the intricacies of what someone else is thinking, no matter how well we know them. The ability to ask questions, especially on a subject which makes so many uncomfortable, is a powerful tool and I hope that I will never forget that or feel reluctant to use it.