Photographing the World Without Taking It

Observed annually on 27 September, World Tourism Day serves as a global reminder of the transformative power of travel. Organised by the United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO), this day seeks not only to celebrate tourism's socio-economic contributions but also to prompt reflection on how we explore the world. As international mobility rebounds after years of pandemic-induced pause, questions around responsible tourism have returned with renewed urgency. For photographers and travellers alike, the call is no longer just to visit, but to truly see, listen, and respect.

The pursuit of visually striking images often guides decisions behind the camera. Framing golden-hour landscapes, vibrant markets, or expressive portraits of local people has become second nature for many travellers. Yet the act of photographing others, especially within indigenous or rural communities, carries ethical implications that go beyond artistic vision. Consent, context, and cultural sensitivity are essential components of a photograph’s value, not afterthoughts.

In regions where oral traditions, spiritual customs, or ancestral rituals remain central to identity, photography can risk misrepresentation or intrusion. A woman balancing water pots in Rajasthan or a child in traditional dress during a religious festival may appear picturesque, but what is the story behind the moment? Has the subject agreed to be photographed? Is their image being commodified without awareness? These are questions that cannot be resolved by aesthetic considerations alone.

Ethnographic scholars and visual anthropologists have long grappled with the tensions between documentation and objectification. In her writings, Deborah Poole notes that “images of the Andean world are too often filtered through external fantasies rather than internal narratives.” Similarly, Nigerian photojournalist Yagazie Emezi has highlighted how foreign photographers may unintentionally perpetuate exoticism when context is stripped away. In both cases, the photographer’s gaze shapes perception, sometimes to the detriment of those portrayed.

Encouragingly, an increasing number of photographers are challenging these dynamics. Travel collectives and ethical photography workshops now urge practitioners to engage with communities before capturing them. This may involve learning basic phrases in the local language, understanding taboos or sacred spaces, and seeking informed consent in a way that feels mutual rather than extractive. The shift is from "taking" a photograph to "making" one, in collaboration rather than conquest.

Tourism boards and cultural heritage organisations have also begun to emphasise responsible image-making. UNESCO, in its guidelines on cultural tourism, advises travellers to “avoid actions that disrupt or disrespect ongoing cultural practices.” In sacred spaces such as Bali’s temples or Ethiopia’s rock-hewn churches in Lalibela, this may mean refraining from using flash, observing appropriate dress codes, or waiting until rituals have concluded before raising a camera.

Importantly, ethical travel photography does not mean avoiding all documentation. Rather, it asks photographers to consider the long-term impact of their images. Are they reinforcing stereotypes? Are they giving voice to communities on their own terms? Initiatives like the “Everyday Africa” project demonstrate how local photographers can reframe narratives from within, challenging monolithic portrayals and encouraging greater nuance.

For non-professional travellers, ethical photography begins with research. Before visiting destinations like Peru’s Andean villages or Morocco’s Berber communities, reading local histories or listening to community-led podcasts can offer vital context. Apps such as “Culture Smart!” provide etiquette guides that explain everything from body language to gift-giving traditions. These tools help ensure that interactions (photographic or otherwise) are grounded in awareness rather than assumption.

Even the digital afterlife of a photo deserves consideration. Posting a powerful portrait to social media may garner admiration, but without captions that explain context or acknowledge the subject’s humanity, the image risks flattening complexity. Captioning should strive to educate, not merely aestheticise. Mentioning the significance of a ritual, the language spoken, or the consent process involved honours the subject as more than scenery.

There is also a growing conversation around photographic reciprocity. Some photographers now return with printed images for their subjects or share digital copies with families, especially in remote areas with limited access to their own visual archives. Others collaborate with local NGOs to ensure that photographs serve a wider educational or advocacy purpose. These gestures, while small, contribute to a culture of respect.

World Tourism Day invites reflection not just on where we travel, but how we travel. For photographers, it presents an opportunity to re-evaluate the ethics of representation and power. The camera, after all, is not neutral. It can distort as easily as it can reveal.

As global tourism continues to expand (with projections from the UNWTO estimating over 1.8 billion international tourist arrivals by 2030) the importance of conscious image-making cannot be overstated. Visual media will play a central role in shaping how cultures are remembered, misunderstood, or reimagined. The responsibility therefore lies not only with professionals, but with every traveller who raises a lens in unfamiliar lands.

Ultimately, travel photography is most powerful when it becomes an exchange. When images are born of dialogue, empathy, and attentiveness, they transcend mere aesthetics. They become visual narratives that honour the depth of human experience, not from afar, but from within.