Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Part 2, Section 3.

CHAPTER 1
ETHICS: PRINCIPLES
It is more than ever crucial for different peoples to form complex concrete images of one
another, as well as of the relationships of power that connect them; but no sovereign
scientific method or stance can guarantee the truth of such images. James Clifford, 19881
[This is a draft circulated to colleagues and friends for comment. Please do not cite
without permission. Paul Henley 2005]

Ethics and politics

Although it is necessary to maintain a clear distinction between the ethical and the legal
implications of documentary film-making, be it for anthropological purposes or more
generally, it is often not possible to separate the ethical from the political implications of
this mode of representing the world. Discussions of the ethical legitimacy of both
anthropology and documentary-making as representational practices are often couched in
political terms, with some authors claiming that they constitute regimes of knowledge
that have served to promote powerful political interests, whilst others claim that they can
provide an institutional space through which less powerful, counter-hegemonic voices
may be heard. If the latter acknowledge that there can be certain costs to these forms of
representation, these are typically considered to be greatly outweighed by the benefits.
This is essentially the argument of John Barnes in his classic text on the ethics of social
research, Who Should Know What:
Social research entails the possibility of destroying the privacy and autonomy of the individual, of
providing more ammunition to those already in power, of laying the groundwork for an invincibly
oppressive state. Yet we would be fatally misled if we inferred that to avoid these objectionable
consequences we should stop making social enquiries, or that the main threat to our liberties as
citizens comes from the activities of social scientists. .... The main threat lies elsewhere, in the
insensitive or malign application of traditional techniques of social control.... In this book we are
then concerned with an activity which is a threat, but only a minor threat, to liberty but which also
constitutes the only technique whereby liberty and diversity may be preserved for the future and
2
enhanced.

Barnes phrases his arguments in terms of social research as a whole and although he
himself is an anthropologist, at least by first formation, this particular way of making the
case seems to suggest that his arguments apply primarily to situations in which both
1
2

Clifford 1988:23
Barnes 1979:22-23.

2 Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

subjects and researcher reside within the same polity.3 However anthropologists often
carry out their research in other countries, within local political universes that are only
indirectly connected to their own, where they are often outsiders twice over, firstly in
relation to the community which they are studying, and secondly, in relation to the state
in which the community concerned finds itself. So whilst we might readily accept the
application of Barnes arguments about the benefits of social research in terms of its
promotion of generalised notions of liberty and diversity to cases in which researchers
are carrying out his work at home, can they also be applied to cases in which they are
working elsewhere?
Some critical voices have claimed that when Western anthropologists make
representations of peoples or communities of other countries, far from promoting liberty
and diversity, they are acting, in effect, as nothing more nor less than agents of Western
imperialism. From this perspective, the liberal discourse concerning the benefits of
freedom of expression is simply an obfuscating rhetoric that serves to legitimate the
marshalling of knowledge that can then be used as means for the West to control and
colonize the rest in the same way that the liberal call for free markets in the Third World
is often simply a cover for penetration by Western capitalist enterprises. As the
documentary critic Bill Nichols puts it, with specific reference to ethnographic film, after
veni and vidi, can vici be far behind?4
It is certainly the case that ethnographic film-making, as with anthropology generally, is
often practised, whether its practitioners like it or not, within a particular constellation of
power relations between the West and the rest of the world, in which the West frequently
has a particularly dominant presence. It is also the case that ethnographic film-making is
often carried out by relatively wealthy members of a Western elite whilst the subjects are
often citizens of other countries who are materially poorer and politically more
vulnerable than themselves. But the validity of moving from these truisms to the assertion
that ethnographic film-making or, more broadly, anthropology, represents a regime of
knowledge that perpetuates and sustains the political and economic imbalances within
which it necessarily takes place is a matter that has to be demonstrated rather than merely
asserted. The long-standing argument about whether anthropology is the bastard child of
colonialism, old or new, or the legitimate offspring of the Enlightenment, or, indeed all of
these at the same time, is one that is clearly impossible to resolve in any definitive
manner here. In the end though, if it is to be resolved in any way, it should be resolved on
the basis of historical evidence rather than on the basis of guilt by association.
There have undoubtedly been cases of anthropologists who have been complicit with
colonial or neo-colonial regimes, if only by remaining silent under complex political
circumstances. But my own reading of the disciplinary history in recent decades
3

Later in the same book, commenting on the desirability of disseminating the results of social research as
broadly as possible, he observes: we may argue that a plural democratic society depends for its survival on
the maintenance of the free flow of ideas, critical as well as constructive (ibid.: 135)
4
See Nichols 1994. The Latin citation is a reference to Julius Caesars celebrated dictum about his military
campaign in Gaul: I came, I saw, I conquered.

3 Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

persuades me that history has generally been a progressive one, in which anthropologists
have sought to demonstrate to the world the complexity and subtlety of the social and
cultural realities that they have studied and on these grounds to insist that they deserve
not just respect but legal endorsement. Indeed, it often transpires that the accusations
made against anthropologists emanate from metropolitan elites or self-appointed
spokespersons whose plans to practice an internal colonialism of their own have been
hampered in some sense by the anthropological inclination to find value in the cultural
practices of subaltern groups whose lives those same elites seek to change in the name of
some self-interested definition of social progress. Rather than contributing to the political
oppression of those whom they have studied, anthropologists representations have
frequently offered them some measure of support in their resistance to such outside
pressures.5
In a more general sense, the representations that anthropologists have produced of the
forms of life that they have studied have often served to make a wider world aware, not
merely of the worth of the cultural traditions that their subjects are defending but even
more importantly, of their subjects essential humanity, even when this may be masked
by highly visible markers of cultural difference. This applies whether these exotic Others
are exotic by virtue of their strange styles of speech or dress, or because they belong to
demonised political or social groups with whom most people rarely have any direct
contact. This demonstration of the humanity of exotic Others is often the first and
necessary step towards gaining general recognition of their claim to the full panoply of
rights accorded to more familiar human beings. Clearly, one should be careful not to
exaggerate the power of anthropology, visual or textual, to be a force for good in the
world. But, equally, one can firmly reject as unfounded the assumption that there is
something intrinsically dubious, be it from a political or an ethical point of view, either
about the anthropological project in general, or about ethnographic film-making in
particular.6
On the contrary, I would argue that the exploration of cultural difference that is at the
heart of the anthropological project is not just useful, but much more than that, is an
activity that is positively necessary in the contemporary world where cultural difference,
entangled in complicated ways with political or economic interests, lies at the root of so
many conflicts at both a national and international level.7 In these circumstances
particularly, as suggested in the epigraphic quote above from James Clifford, it is
important that the different peoples of the world, now more closely locked than ever into
5

I am thinking particularly of the political support given by anthropologists to the indigenous peoples of
Amazonia, my own region of specialist interest. But the same is true in many other parts of the world. See
for example Strang (2003) who makes a similar argument in relation to Australia.
6
Borrowing an insight from Terry Turner, Marcus Banks argues that one should avoid falling into the
Foucauldian trap of assuming that all forms of representation necessarily involve misuse. This tendency is
particularly marked, he suggests, when visual media are involved on account of the association of vision in
the Foucauldian paradigm with the sinister panopticon, the all-seeing, controlling central watchtower used
in prisons to provide an overview of all parts of the establishment without allowing this surveillance to be
reciprocated See Banks 2001: 111-2, 129, also Turner 1995.
7
See Gledhill 2000, especially 214-242.

4 Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

a single political system, should form concrete images of one another since it is only by
this means that they can begin to discover common human interests that lie beyond the
particularities of cultural difference. Although it may be true, as Clifford suggests, that
there is no privileged method for doing so, ethnographic accounts of the kind
conventionally produced by anthropologists represent one possible means of
communicating the fabric of other peoples lives in such a concrete manner. Moreover,
ethnographic film, as a medium that can reach out beyond academic circles relatively
easily as compared with ethnographic texts, has the potential to play a particularly
effective role in this regard.
Clearly, the films and texts produced by indigenous peoples themselves also have a
vitally important role to play in sustaining this exchange across cultural boundaries.
Moreover, during the last 20 years, there has been a remarkable progression of
indigenous media productions from low budget factual film-making to feature films that
have enjoyed great international success both critically and commercially.8 But for all
their recent development and diversification, indigenous media productions remain very
few in number compared to the vast number of social and cultural forms of life across the
world. Furthermore, however great their merits or however great their eventual number,
indigenous media productions will remain insiders accounts by definition and as such
are bound to be different from those produced by outsiders. One mode of representation
is not necessarily superior to the other: each may provide a valuable perspective on the
world since, as in the case of autobiography and biography in relation to the life of an
individual, each mode of representing a particular form of life is both empowered and
limited in its own particular way.
This is a point that has particular bearing on the proposition put forward by some authors
that now that video technology is cheap and easy to use, and indigenous communities and
others are quite capable of shooting their own films, the role of the outside film-maker
has become obsolete and that the only ethically defensible position is for the
anthropologist to facilitate indigenous media productions and comment upon them.9 At
the most general level, this propositions seems to me to be of the same order as the
suggestion that now most of those whom anthropologists study are literate, the role of the
anthropological text-maker should be confined to the analysis of subject-generated texts.
Apart from anything else, if systematically followed, it would clearly entail the end of
anthropology as a fieldwork-based discipline.
But the main limitation of the proposition becomes apparent when one considers the
output of the indigenous media projects that have so far been developed around the
world. For, by and large, the range of topics covered by the films produced by these
projects is rather narrow: land-rights campaigns, ritual events which assert the political
unity and cultural coherence of the group, and social or economic development projects
which demonstrate the benefits of collective co-operation account for an
8
9

See Ginsburg 2002 for a recent overview of this increasingly active arena of activity.
See Ruby 1995

5 Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

disproportionately large part of this output. This is no more than one would expect, since
these are topics of overwhelming importance to the groups who make the films. Many of
these projects have been highly successful in their own terms, empowering the subjects
who made the films and generally raising awareness of the political interests of their
communities, both internally and externally. But there is no particular reason why
indigenous media producers should necessarily want to address the same range of topics
as anthropologists, nor why they should want to address them in ways that is broadly
compatible with wider debates or concerns in the academic discipline. Such matters as
the way in which this new technology is managed in indigenous communities and the
particular aesthetic or narrative qualities of the films themselves are certainly matters of
substantial broader anthropological interest. But it is nevertheless the case that valuable
though these insights might be, the contribution of these projects to the intellectual
project of anthropology as a whole has been within a relatively narrow band.10
In the last analysis, although most - probably all - anthropologists would like to feel that
their films or their texts will bring benefits to their subjects, this in itself cannot serve as a
final ethical legitimation for their activities. For if the bringing of benefit to the subjects
were the only ethical consideration, it would be much more effective to abandon
academic life entirely and dedicate oneself instead to working full-time as an advocate, as
some ethnographic documentary film-makers in Brasil and elsewhere have indeed done.
But anthropology as an academic discipline is about much more than advocacy, ranging
as it does from highly philosophical questions of no immediate pragmatic utility to the
most mundane processes of everyday life. Some points on this spectrum of interests
might articulate closely with the social and political concerns of the subjects of study
with the result that the goals of advocacy and the goals of academic anthropology can be
advanced simultaneously. But this need not necessarily be the case: it may even be the
exception that proves the rule
Yet although there is inevitably a certain mismatch of interests between the subjects as
insiders and those of anthropologist film-makers and text-makers as outsiders, these
interests certainly need not be antithetical or hostile to one another. Moreover, in order
for anthropologists to do their work, it is essential that they receive the collaboration of
the subjects since this work typically entails long periods of co-residence with the
subjects in the field and requires their subjects tolerance, trust and understanding if they
are to gain any real insight into their lives. So whatever the ethical considerations may be,
in order for film-making or text-making to happen within the real-politik of the
contemporary anthropological encounter, it is necessary for anthropologists to find points
where their interests overlap with those of their subjects and on the basis of this common
ground, to develop a collaborative strategy with the subjects to bring their projects to
fruition.

10

See Turner (2002) for a relatively recent discussion of anthropological understandings to be achieved
through the study of indigenous media.

6 Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

However, the point I want to stress is that this common ground may have nothing to do
with the representational process itself. The subjects may welcome, or at least tolerate,
the presence of anthropologists on account of other benefits that they may bring with
them, such as some degree of political protection against other local interests,
participation in the demarcation of territories for land rights purposes, economic aid or
medical attention, or even simply on account of the amusement value of having a
culturally incompetent outsider around for a while. However, as subjects around the
world become increasingly aware of the power of images and the possibility that the
images projected of them could have practical consequences, both negative and positive,
they may also seek to have some sort of editorial control over these images as well.
This could pose a more challenging dilemma for anthropologists than any of the other
more material or political modes of reciprocation just described since it may require them
to compromise to some degree with the countervailing ethical responsibility not just to
their colleagues, but to the world as a whole, to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing
but the truth, at least as they understand it. Depending on the circumstances of the
encounter, it may be that neither party will get exactly what they were hoping for from
the collaboration: the anthropologists film or text may not be as assertive of their
political interests as the subjects were hoping, the anthropologist may regret that it was
necessary to compromise on telling the whole truth as he or she understood it. But in the
best-case scenario, it could be that both parties will discover that the outcome has been
more beneficial than they could ever have imagined before the collaboration began. For
as Jean Rouch liked to say, echoing - if I recall correctly - some mathematical bon mot of
Antoine Saint-Exupry, a relationship of difference need not lead to division - it can also
lead to multiplication

Ethical codes and collaborative research

The issues raised by the balancing of researchers and subjects interests within the
context of research that is necessarily collaborative in some degree are central to the
ethical codes that professional associations of anthropologists have devised over the
years. Of particular importance in the English-speaking world are the codes prepared by
the American Anthropological Association (AAA) and the Association of Social
Anthropologists (ASA), based in the United Kingdom.11 Both the AAA and the ASA
codes deal with a range of a matters such as the ethical obligations of the anthropological
researcher to the discipline of anthropology and fellow academics, to gate-keepers who
control access to research locations, to sponsors and to the general public. But the issue
of greatest priority in both codes is the ethical responsibility of the researcher to the
11

Although it is based in the UK, the ASA is also open to anthropologists from Commonwealth countries
and Ireland, as well as anthropologists of any nationality who have worked in the UK. These codes are
periodically reviewed and reformulated, the latest version of the AAA code being approved in June 1998,
whilst the most recent version of the ASA code was approved in March 1999. For the complete texts of
these codes, see the websites of the respective organizations:
www.asa.anthropology.ac.uk/ethics2.html and www.aaanet.org/committees/ethics.

7 Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

subjects. Neither code has much to say specifically on the ethical implications of
documentary-making. But they do propose a number of general principles and it is to
these that anthropologist film-makers might look for guidance, at least in the first
instance.12
These codes represent a set of norms around which a certain degree of consensus exists
within the ranks of professional anthropologists. It is important to bear in mind that they
have no binding legal status and their provisions are not backed by sanctions of any kind,
let alone by mechanisms whereby research subjects can seek redress in cases of failure to
comply with them. As one would expect, they reflect the circumstances of close
collaboration with the subjects under which anthropologists normally work. Equally
unsurprisingly therefore, they lay particular stress on the need to protect the interests of
the subjects, identifying these as being of greater importance than those of either the
researcher or the eventual audience. As such, they may be contrasted, on the one hand,
with the ethical posture of journalists and television film-makers whose tendency is rather
to lay greatest stress on the interests of the audience and, on the other, with the classical
ethical posture of the amoral artist whose primary responsibility is neither to his subject
nor to his audience, but only to his or her muse.13
However any ethnographic film-maker turning to these anthropologists codes in the
hope of finding a clear direction on ethical matters will soon be disappointed. For these
codes are no more than guidelines intended merely to sensitize anthropological
researchers to the dilemmas (a term much used in all discussions of anthropological
research ethics) that are thrown up by their work. Both codes recognize that in actual
practice, social researchers are likely to be subject to various contradictory allegiances.
The AAA code speaks of anthropologists necessarily having to make choices between
apparently incompatible values and of the need to grapple with these issues and to
struggle to resolve them in an ethical manner. Similarly, the ASA code refers to the
competing duties and conflicts of interest that inevitably confront the social
researcher. Although the matter is approached from various different angles in the codes,
what the primary source of these dilemmas comes down to is the actual or potential
conflict between the researchers interest in disseminating as accurate and comprehensive
an account of a particular social reality as their skills allow and their subjects possible

12

David Mills (2003:46-50) has described how the ASA code was originally modelled, at least in part, on
the AAA code, but whereas the AAA code has been watered down in recent reformulations, particularly
insofar as the respect for subjects rights are concerned, the ASA code has, if anything, been tightened up,
retaining certain of the features of the earlier AAA code that the AAA itself has dropped. It has been
suggested that the watering down of the AAA code is related to the fact that many US anthropologists
now work in private industry. Mills article appears in a recent collection of articles edited by Pat Caplan
(2003) which provides a useful insight in the current state of discussion about anthropological ethics in the
UK. For references to writing directly concerned with the ethics of documentary film-making, both for
anthropological purposes and more generally, see the Introduction to this Part, footnotes 0 & 0
13
See Winston 2000. In describing the ethical principles of the tradition of the amoral artist, Winston
quotes Ruskins celebrated advice to a young painter, Does a man die at your feet, your business is not to
help him, but to note the colour of his lips (ibid.:131).

8 Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

interest in aspects of that reality being reported upon selectively or omitted completely
from the account
More generally, these dilemmas reflect the fundamental quandary already alluded to
above, namely, that although the concern of anthropologists to work collaboratively with
their subjects in producing representations of their world may be desirable in an ethical
sense as well as being pragmatically necessary, it remains the case that the authority
accorded to anthropologists representations is heavily influenced by the degree to which
this work is understood to be free of any restrictive interest, including particularly the
interests of the subjects. If the latter is not the case, then their work will be construed as
work of advocacy rather than ethnographic reportage and whilst there may be nothing
intrinsically wrong with this, and advocacy is certainly not condemned in the ethical
codes, it does mean that their work will be construed as partial in both senses of the term.
This inevitably devalues the authority of the work, not only in the eyes of fellow
anthropologists, but also in the eyes of third parties.14
Given that there is no universally appropriate way to resolve this central quandary, both
codes are necessarily therefore merely educational, i.e. they can represent no more than
a series of edifying principles which individual anthropologists should seek to apply as
their particular circumstances require or allow. On the AAA website, this is taken one
step further in that the code itself is supplemented by the presentation of the dilemmas
arising in a number of real-life cases which readers are invited to reflect upon and
consider in relation to their own work.15
I now propose to follow this example and consider a few real-life cases that may serve to
illustrate just some of the dilemmas that can arise in putting the principles of the codes
into practice when making ethnographic documentaries.
Case no. 1: The House Opening
Both the AAA and the ASA codes begin by asserting the priority of the subjects interests
over those of the researcher or the eventual audience. After the introductory passages, the
first substantive clause of the AAA code states that anthropologists have primary ethical
obligations and that these can supersede the goal of seeking new knowledge.
Somewhat more forcefully, the ASA code declares that most anthropologists would
maintain that their paramount obligation is to their research participants and that when
there is conflict the interests and rights of those studied should come first. In view of the
obligation to protect the subjects, both codes contemplate the possibility that, in some
14

Strang (2003:177) comments that in the politically-charged context of litigation over land rights claims
by Aboriginal communities in Australia, as exemplified by the infamous Hindmarsh case in 1994, it has
been vitally important for anthropologists to be able to assert their objectivity since otherwise their
testimonies in favour of Aboriginal claimants run the risk of being dismissed on the grounds of partiality.
15
See Sue-Ellen Jacobs, Cases and Solutions, www.aaanet.org/committees/ethics/ch3.htm

9 Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

instances, it may be necessary for certain research projects not to be undertaken at all
whilst the results of others should only be divulged in the most restricted manner.
To many documentarists from a journalistic background, such a degree of constraint
would probably seem excessive, if not actually unethical in the sense that it would
conflict with what they would regard as their responsibility to their audience to
investigate the truth wherever it might lie, unencumbered by any compromise with the
subjects. But as a general statement of principle, I suspect that these ethical norms would
indeed be accepted by most anthropologist film-makers and they would aspire to observe
them in their work. However certain key terms in the formulation of these norms are
rather vague, with the result that their practical application can be problematic. How, for
example, does one define the interests and rights of those studied, as alluded to in the
clause quoted from the ASA code? Even the small, traditional communities in which
anthropologists often work are rarely so uniform in opinion that there is complete
unanimity about what the interests of the community actually are. As a result, there may
well be considerable disagreement as to how the community should be represented on
film.
This was a problem that David and Judith MacDougall encountered in making The House
Opening (1980). This film, directed by Judith, concerns the return of the recently-widowed
Geraldine Kawangka to the Aboriginal community of Aurukun on the Cape York Peninsular,
Queensland, in order to participate in a ritual intended to 're-open' the house that she had shared
with her late husband. Under traditional circumstances, the dwelling of the deceased would
simply have been destroyed and the families concerned would have moved away from the site for
at least a year. But now that the community is permanently settled and their houses are elaborate
structures resembling suburban villas, they have accommodated the ritual re-opening to the new
circumstances. Not only that, but the ritual itself has been re-invented to some degree,
incorporating elements borrowed from the Torres Straits Islanders who also live on the reserve,
and certain Presbyterian elements introduced by the missionaries who first arrived at Aurukun in
1902. The film is narrated by Geraldine herself on the basis of a recording made as she watched a
cut of the film in the edit suite. She not only explains what is going on and who is who, but in her
comments, she also stresses the cultural continuity between the traditional Aboriginal forms and
the re-invented ritual forms seen in the film. Overall, the film has a very gentle, uplifting feel to
it, suggesting that the ritual is a very positive means of overcoming both the threat posed by the
death of an individual person and the threat posed to the community as a whole by social and
cultural change.16
On the face of it then, the film appears to be a very positive assertion of the Aboriginal voice,
both literally and metaphorically and, as such, to have advanced the interests of the community as
a whole. However, as David MacDougall explained in a later interview, the film masked deepseated divisions within the community which, in reality, was highly fragmented into rival
political factions. Indeed, one of the reasons for performing the house-opening ritual was to
resolve tensions between Geraldine and her husband's family and to re-assure them that she had
not been involved in any form of witchcraft or sorcery that might have caused his death.
Although this is alluded to obliquely in the film, it remains at what MacDougall calls 'a very
16

See the comments on this film by Fred Myers (1988:210-2) who stresses the way in which it also
celebrates the cultural creativity and resilience of Aboriginal people.

10Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

subliminal level'. Geraldine herself came from a very powerful family within the community and,
moreover, as chair of the community council for many years was also personally very powerful.
MacDougall suggests that the film would undoubtedly have been perceived by her rivals as
enhancing the position of her family within the community.17 In other words, a film that from the
outside might appear to advance the interests of the whole community was perceived from the
inside as being of particular advantage to one particular faction within it.

This problem also has a temporal dimension since it can happen that the image that a
film-maker projects of a given community may be approved at the moment when it was
made, at least by certain members of the community, but despised by their descendants,
or vice versa. Asen Balicki encountered just such variable reactions over time to his
celebrated Netsilik Eskimo films. These were made in the early 1960s and sought to recreate Inuit life prior to 1919 when the introduction of the rifle had radically altered
traditional subsistence strategies. The process of reconstruction was carried out entirely
under the initiative of the Inuit who willingly acted as traditional Netsiliks. But by the
1970s, the films were completely out of favour with many young Canadian Inuit who felt
that they gave the impression that they were still living as savages whereas by then they
lived in a world of motorbikes and mini-skirts. Further afield though, in Alaska, where
acculturation to non-Inuit ways was even more marked, the films were highly
appreciated as an invaluable record of the peoples own history.18 In short, Balikcis
experience, as in the case of the MacDougalls cited above, demonstrates that it is a far
from simple matter to determine what the interests of a community may be at any
particular moment in time.
Case no. 2: Faces in the Crowd and Royal Watchers
In another important clause, the ASA code enjoins anthropologists to guard against
predictably harmful effects arising from their research. Again, at first sight, as an
abstract statement of principle, this seems entirely admirable. But here too, the practical
implementation of the principle could be problematic. For example, should the
anthropologist film-maker protect his or her subjects even when they are engaged in
behaviour that is profoundly anti-social or even criminal? I suspect that in most cases,
again in contradistinction to the position that would perhaps be taken by many journalist
documentarists, most anthropologist would argue that, except in extreme cases, they
17

See Grimshaw & Papastergiadis (1995) :43-44. See also MacDougall 1987:56 in which the author
describes other instances in which the presence of a film crew in an Australian Aboriginal community has
been used by one faction to gain political advantage over another.
18
See Balikci 1995: 188-9. As Balikci himself reports, a somewhat similar situation arose in respect of the
Robert Flaherty classic Man of Aran (1934). At the time, many Aran islanders considered the film
somewhat ridiculous and resented the scenes suggesting that they lived in very primitive conditions.
However the film has been responsible for attracting many tourists to Aran and is constantly screened at a
cinema on the island throughout the summer. The difference in attitude between the older generation, who
recall being embarrassed by the film when it first came out, and the more positive attitudes of the younger
islanders who make a living from tourism is nicely captured in Looking for the Man of Aran (1995), a
Granada Centre graduation film by Sebastian Eschenbach.

11Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

should provide such protection, particularly if the subjects are living in relatively weak or
disadvantaged social conditions.19
But the ASA code also suggests that if, as a result of anthropological research, subjects
were caused to acquire self-knowledge which they did not seek or want that even this
relatively slight harm might be construed as a case of undue intrusion. This could well
be something that a well-intentioned anthropologist film-maker might want to avoid but,
in practical terms, to guarantee to make a film that would not expose any of its subjects,
if they were to view it, to the risk of any form of potentially disagreeable self-knowledge
would be an undertaking that would be very difficult to honour.
This is an issue that it proved necessary to consider in connection with the two films that I made
in collaboration with the anthropologist Anne Rowbottom about the royalists, a small and
informal groupng of British people who travel around the country hoping to shake hands with,
give gifts to or take photographs of members of the royal family at 'walkabouts'. These often
follow a royal visit to inaugurate a public institution or event of some kind and consist of the
royal person going up to and greeting a few members of the crowd that has invariably gathered at
the scene to cheer the royal persons arrival and departure. In her writings, Anne argues that the
royalists and their activities testify, albeit in a particularly active way, to the manner in which
the royal family is invested with popular meanings and, as such, has become an important part of
the 'civil religion' of the British state.20
The first film, Faces in the Crowd (1993) grew out of an initial concern on Annes part merely to
produce a visual document of the choreography of a royal walkabout whereby, without the
intervention of any choreographer, the combination of the physical layout of the spaces in which
such encounters typically take place, and the interests of the leading dramatis personae - security
officers, police, press photographers and the royal persons themselves unintentionally conspire
to bring about a situation in which, almost without fail, the royal person is ushered into the
presence of the royalists to graciously receive a small gift before the frenetic chatter of the
waiting press photographers shutters. At first, we filmed only the ritual encounters themselves.
But later we added some interviews as well as sequences of the leading subjects in their homes,
and built up a narratively structured documentary out of the material.
However, when an almost-complete edited version of the film was premiered to a student
audience at a Granada Centre event some time later, it provoked great hilarity. Having spent a
prolonged period of time in the company of the royalists, it had become all too easy to forget that
the royalists views and practices could be regarded by many, particularly sceptical students, as
eccentric, to put it mildly. As has been widely recognized before, this kind of situation, in which
one becomes so immersed in the worldview of ones hosts that it is no longer possible to see them
as others might do, is one in which anthropologists often find themselves caught when coming
out of the experience of fieldwork. What was instructive about this situation, at least for me, was
that this process could just as easily happen when the subjects were members of ones own
society. In this instance, the end result was that the subjects who had so unstintingly agreed to
19

Marcus Banks (2001:130) reports an example that is particularly apposite here, i.e. the controversy that
surrounded the publication by Colin Turnbull of photographs of the Ik of Uganda engaged in poaching, an
illegal activity that could have got the individuals concerned who were actually named, though seemingly
ingenuously in trouble with the state authorities.
20
See Rowbottom 1998, 2001.

12Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

participate in the film, were now being subjected to ridicule. Meanwhile, the more academic
purpose of presenting them as a microcosm of much more widespread popular attitudes to the
monarchy was being entirely overlooked in the welter of mirth. This was particularly difficult for
Anne, around whose long-term relationships of trust with the subjects the film had been
constructed.
We also screened the film to the principal subjects and they too found certain aspects of the film
amusing. Some of them recognized that other people might regard their behaviour as bizarre, as
indeed they comment in the film itself: Ive been called a crank, a nutcase, reflects one of the
characters, philosophically. Although no one objected to the film being distributed for academic
purposes, some subjects had serious reservations about the film being screened on television,
which was a possibility at the time. For these subjects, it was not the idea of appearing on
television that was worrying in itself. The problem was rather that they did not want to be
publicly associated with certain other members of the group whose enthusiasm they regarded as
being excessive and as potentially bringing into disrepute an activity which they regarded as
being both reasonable and highly patriotic. Obviously, any film-maker makes a film to be seen
and, as a general rule, the more people who see the film, the better. So I cannot deny that I was
somewhat disappointed by this reaction. But there was no question of going against the wishes of
the subjects, particularly since the film had not been conceived, in the first instance, as a
documentary, let alone a television documentary, and the subjects consent to film them had not
been sought with this in mind.
Some years later, Anne and I had an opportunity to act on the lessons of this experience in a
second film about the royalists which this time was made specifically for television. This was
Royal Watchers, produced by Mosaic Pictures and broadcast on BBC2 in 1997. Some of the
principal subjects from the previous film again did not wish to appear on national television and
for the same reason as before. But one royalist in particular was very keen to be involved, so I
discussed with him the fact that some of the press reaction to the film might be very negative, not
only about what he called his 'hobby' but also about him personally. But he claimed that he was
used to this because, on account of his royal-watching, he had already been featured in a
number of articles in the tabloid press which had presented him in a highly uncomplimentary
way. In the light of this past experience, he was confident that he would be able to handle any
negative coverage of the film.
In the event, the press reviews of the film were very mixed. Some spoke glowingly of him, one
declaring that he was the sort of man who put the 'great' into Great Britain. But others were so
rude that even he found them hard to take. He reported to me that some people came up to him in
the street and wanted to shake his hand, whilst others wanted to take his photograph, all of which
he appreciated. On the other hand, he once found himself on a train sitting next to a man reading
a review of the film that had been particularly abusive and which was accompanied by a large
picture of himself. Luckily, his travelling companion never realised whom he was sitting next to.
Even more fortunate was the fact that a few weeks later, when he was attending a walkabout of
the Queen Mother, she spotted him in the crowd and said, 'Mr. Edwards, I liked your film'. Given
that royal figures generally never address a member of the public at walkabout by name, let alone
offer a personal compliment of this kind, he regarded it as a singular honour. This allowed him to
forget all the painful press coverage: after the Queen Mother had spoken, he could dismiss all that
as 'mere tittle-tattle'.

13Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

This particular story therefore had a happy ending, though it had been a close-run thing.
During the press coverage, I had felt very ill at ease about the personal criticism that our
subject was receiving but, at the same time, I had a clear conscience because I felt that we
had talked openly and honestly about the risks beforehand. Moreover, I kept in frequent
contact with him throughout this period and for some time afterwards. Indeed, I continue
to exchange Christmas cards with him to this day.
Case no.3 - Nepalese bee-keeping
In the last case, the harmful effects of the filming entailed no more than a certain degree
of personal criticism that, given the nature of press coverage, was unlikely to be more
than transitory. Whilst this was a serious matter and its personal impact on the principal
subject should in no way be underestimated, it did not involve any significant threat to
life or limb. However there have also been cases in which the consequences of appearing
in a documentary film have been very much more negative for the subjects.
One such case involved a film made in Nepal in the late 1980s about a development
project supported by a British aid agency. This film was made for development
communication rather than ethnographic purposes, but it is easy to imagine an
ethnographic film being made on the same topic and in a similar way, and having similar
consequences. The case should therefore be a sobering source of reflection for all
anthropologist film-makers as well.21
The film concerned a seemingly entirely innocent subject, namely a programme to introduce beekeeping in certain rural villages. The aim of this programme was to give rural women a small but
autonomous income, freeing them from total economic dependence on their husbands and local
money-lenders. The film was made to the highest ethical standards, involving much consultation
between film-makers and the subjects, who played an active part in the deciding the various
scenes to be filmed. The film proved very successful with its immediate target audience, which
was the women of neighbouring villages whom the aid agency wanted to encourage also to take
up bee-keeping. In significant part, its success was due to the music included in the film, which
proved very popular. But it was also due to the very engaging presence of a particularly beautiful
young woman who played a leading role in the film and sang the accompanying song that became
something of a local hit.
However, due to its popularity, the film soon began to circulate outside the original cluster of
rural villages for which it was intended, eventually reaching the capital, Kathmandu. Here it was
seen by members of a criminal gang engaged in a clandestine trade involving the kidnapping
young women in order to take them south into India where they would be sold into prostitution in
Mumbai. Attracted by the beauty of the star of the film, the gang set out to kidnap her. Although
the kidnap was narrowly foiled, the young woman had to go in to hiding. When the film-makers
21

This case was described by one of the participants in the development project during a workshop on
development communication which I attended at the University of Reading in the early 1990s.
Unfortunately I no longer have a record of the name of the woman who made an excellent presentation on
this case.

14Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

tried to find out who was responsible, it quickly became apparent that powerful interests linked to
the army were involved in this traffic of young women and the film-makers too were threatened.
Eventually, the tension eased and the young woman was able to return to her village, but not
before everyone involved had been given a powerful reminder of how even the best-intentioned
of film ventures can have highly negative unanticipated effects.

As well as being far more seriously harmful than in the previous case, the effects of this
film also seem to have been far less predictable. A case such as this suggests that the only
way to be absolutely certain that no harm will come to ones subjects is not to engage in
any form of representational practice at all. But even the relatively exigent ASA code
recognizes that this would be going too far. After declaring that anthropologists have a
responsibility to communicate to their findings for the benefit of the widest possible
community, it continues in section V2(b):
That information can be misconstrued or misused is not in itself a convincing argument against its
collection and dissemination. All information is subject to misuse; and no information is devoid
of possible harm to one interest or another.

Moreover, in considering such cases, it is necessary to retain a sense of proportion: films

made for anthropological purposes which have had such negative consequences for the
subjects are very rare. Indeed, I know of no remotely comparable case, though this is no
grounds for either complacency or fatalism. In the circumstances, what one should
require of anthropologists, whether they are working in texts or visual media, is not that
they give up their representational practices entirely but rather that they should err on the
side of caution in anticipating the possibly harmful effects of their representations. Once
sensitized by exposure to cases like this, anthropologist film-makers may be able to take
steps to reduce the risk to the subjects by keeping a tight control on the distribution of
their films, by being vague in the filmic text itself about exactly where the principal
protagonists live and other such measures. But, by definition, it will never possible to
eliminate such unpredictable risks entirely. So as well as being cautious, anthropologists
should also be under an ethical obligation to share this fact of the essential
unpredictability of the reaction to a film openly and honestly with their subjects.
This places a particular burden of responsibility on the shoulders of those working with
minority groups who live in relative isolation from the mainstream of the state in which
they live since they may not be as well-placed as the anthropologist to judge what the
scale and seriousness of the risks involved may be. Even those living in the mainstream
may be relatively nave as to the consequences of appearing in a film. As Jay Ruby has
rightly pointed out, many people are initially rather flattered to be asked to appear in a
film and only become disillusioned when the negative comments of critics and other
viewers begin to come in after the film has been distributed. Ruby is surely right to insist
then that anthropologist film-makers should not feel that they can defend themselves
simply by referring to the consent given by subjects in the first flush of enthusiasm for a
film project. For, in reality, most subjects are not informed enough to exonerate film-

15Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

makers from accusations of exploitation if it transpires that they did not adequately
anticipate the risks nor share their concerns about these risks with their subjects.22

Ethical risk assessment

These case studies of the ethical dilemmas thrown up by particular experiences of
ethnographic documentary-making could be prolonged almost indefinitely since virtually
every film is likely to produce them, at least to some degree. In many instances, the
securing of consent from the subjects, particularly if this consent is informed by an
understanding of the risks that may be entailed by appearing in a film, may go a long way
to resolving these dilemmas.
However the elicitation of informed consent should certainly not be seen as a panacea
applicable to all circumstances and under all conditions. With the exception of entirely
clandestine filming which, irrespective of any ethical considerations, would not normally
be compatible with the practical circumstances under which anthropologists work, no
documentary film could ever be made entirely without the subjects consent. But in some
circumstances, it may be necessary to obtain consent that is not fully informed since
otherwise it would be impossible even to begin the research. This could be case, for
example, in a situation in which the subjects hold views or are engaged in activities
which the film-maker does not agree or sympathize with but which he or she believes that
it is important that the world knows about. In such as situations, if the film-maker were to
reveal his or her lack of sympathy with the subjects worldview, as would be required by
the standard protocols of informed consent, it is very likely that consent would be
refused and the investigation would be stopped dead in its tracks.23
In considering these dilemmas from the perspective of documentary film-making
generally, Brian Winston has proposed that in every case, the film-maker should conduct
what he calls a form of ethical risk assessment, balancing the various different factors
that should be taken into consideration. Over a long period, Winston has argued that
documentarists should have, as he put it in an early article, a clear, limiting, and binding
duty of care to protect those whose privacy they have invaded.24 He has also been
particularly forceful in criticizing what he regards as the self-serving justifications that
documentarists often offer in defence of their intrusions into the lives of the marginal and
disadvantaged in terms of the benefits for the latter of bringing their unfortunate
circumstances to the attention of society as a whole. More often than not, Winston avers,
this amounts to no more than a vague hope that someone somewhere may see the film
and do something about the problems that the subjects are struggling with. Whilst some
individual documentary subjects may have benefited substantially in a personal way from
their exposure, many others have suffered negative effects of one kind or another. More
22

Ruby 1991:55
See Barnes (1979:104) on more operational problems associated with the implementation of the
principles of fully informed consent in the course of long-term fieldwork.
24
Winston 1988a:33 (originally published in 1978-79).
23

16Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

generally, Winston argues, with a few notable exceptions, it is very difficult to show that
any documentary has given rise, as a direct result, to significant social or political
changes that have been of benefit either to the subjects as individuals or to their
community.25
Yet notwithstanding his profound scepticism about the ethical probity of much
documentary practice, Winston also has reservations about the blanket application of the
principle of informed consent on account of its chilling implications for freedom of
expression. Even if documentaries do not generally lead directly to social or political
change, they can still play a valuable role in making audiences aware of the world in
which they live and this function would be abridged if it were always necessary to get
consent, informed or otherwise. As he puts it:
It would be the end of the ethical problems of documentary film-making simply to suggest the
adoption of the Nuremberg Protocols as a basis for film-making all, or most, difficulties
would never occur if these rules were the norm; but then most of the films would not exist either.
This is why I do not for a moment suggest that it would be a good thing to import such an unnuanced vision of informed consent, much less the Nuremberg Protocol standards, to the
documentary or any other media form Any absolute requirement of voluntary consent alone
26
would obviously have a discouraging effect on free expression.

In the light of this threat to freedom of expression, Winston has drawn back from an
earlier proposal that the duty of care that the documentarist owes to the subject should
be legally enforceable. He now believes that any such legal restriction on documentarymaking could be used by the powerful, the corrupt and the criminal to protect themselves
from its gaze. The path to controlled media, he remarks, is paved with the best of
ethical intentions and is very slippery.27
Instead he argues for a voluntary professional code involving the ethical risk assessment
referred to above. This should be based, he suggests, on a sort of sliding scale, taking into
account such factors as the degree to which the subject is a public figure, the location is a
public place, the action is socially deviant and how broad the likely distribution of the
film. In general, Winston argues, the more the subject is a public figure and the more
public the place, the less the ethical obligation to seek consent. The ethical obligation is
similarly reduced when the subjects are involved in some widely decried form of
deviancy or when a film is intended only for restricted audiences who are unlikely to act
in ways prejudicial to the subjects.28
These criteria seem reasonable enough in so far as the privacy of the person and place are
concerned, though social deviancy is somewhat more difficult to allow for, since there
25

Winston 1988c, reprised in Winston 2000:150-2.

Winston 2000: 148
27
Winston 2000: 159
28
Except in the last regard, these criteria are very similar to those of the
Ofcom Programme Code with
respect to privacy which we considered in Chapter 1 of this Part (see pp.000-000). But whereas those
criteria have a legal status, here we are concerned with ethical criteria.
26

17Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

are no hard and fast ethical standards by which to gauge who deserves to be exposed,
with or without their consent. Also the relevance of breadth of distribution is similarly
somewhat moot since, as the Nepalese example cited above demonstrates, it is now very
easy, given contemporary technological conditions, for even the most specialist of films
to reach audiences that are much broader than those for whom it was originally intended.
But notwithstanding these reservations, the general idea underlying Winstons proposal
for a systematic process of ethical risk assessment has much to commend it for
anthropologist film-makers, particularly if it were accommodated somewhat to meet their
particular circumstances. Winstons arguments are mostly addressed to film-makers
working for British television, an essentially journalistic or, increasingly, entertainment
medium, or to North American independents working somewhere around the interface
between current affairs and art cinema. Whereas documentarists working in these arenas
often report upon the lives and activities of the rich and powerful, and sometimes the
criminal, anthropologists by and large tend to film those who are in some sense
politically disadvantaged or vulnerable. A strong argument could therefore be made that,
generally speaking, anthropologists will have a greater duty of care to their subjects than
their journalist colleagues and a greater obligation to gain the consent of their subjects in
as fully an informed manner as is possible or appropriate in any given set of
circumstances.
In contrast, we can surely agree with Winston that should anthropologist film-makers
find themselves filming those who are privileged or who exercise power, and who are
therefore able to defend themselves and respond to a critical documentary, or those who
are engaged in criminal activities that run counter to the common interest, the ethical
obligation to get consent or to protect the subjects from the consequences of exposure
through the film would much be reduced and possibly even nul.
But, clearly, determining which subjects are powerful enough or wicked enough so that
there is a reduced or even no ethical obligation to protect them will always be a matter of
judgement. No such conditionality is applicable in biomedical research: even a mass
murderer who has wielded absolute power would have the right to know what the effects
of a surgical intervention on this body would be likely to be. In social research, on the
other hand, and by extension in ethnographic documentary, the ethical obligation to seek
consent can never be quite so clear-cut.
********
In summary then, professional ethical codes relating to social research are necessarily
imprecise and often contradictory, and can only provide a preliminary orientation to
ethnographic documentarists. Whilst they can certainly be useful in sensitizing
anthropologist film-makers to the ethical issues raised by their work, in the last analysis it
is the individual researcher who must chart his or her own way amongst competing
obligations, bearing in mind, as Barnes puts it, that ethical and intellectual compromise

18Handbook of Ethnographic Documentary, Pt. 2, Sec.3, Chap.1 - Ethics: Principles

is an intrinsic characteristic of social research.29 Moreover, in making their way,

anthropologist film-makers will inevitably be influenced by the social and political
environment in which they work. Those working amongst indigenous peoples subjected
to powerful social and economic discrimination, as in Latin America for example, are
necessarily under more intense ethical pressures to protect their subjects interests than
those working amongst more advantaged groups. Those few anthropologist film-makers
who study up amongst the rich and powerful will have to cope with a different set of
pressures and may have to resist the temptation to give too good an account of their
subjects interests. But whatever their circumstances, in absence of any absolute norms, it
is individual anthropologists who, ultimately, must assume ethical responsibility for their
work.
Having explored some of the broader ethical issues raised by documentary film-making
in the name of anthropology, we can now turn to consider in greater detail how these
relate to the pragmatic business of actually making a film in the following and final
chapter of this Part of the book.
20/3/05: 8568 and 9557

29

Quoted in Akeroyd 1984:154, ***Check original source