Last summer, I was assigned to take photos that could communicate the urgency of climate change in northern Canada. When I arrived at an abandoned village on Resolute Bay, I scanned the shore with my camera. Suddenly, I spotted a bear lying on the ground. It didn't move for almost an hour. But when it finally stood up, I had to catch my breath. The bear's once strong body was just skin and bones; every step that it took was painfully slow.
When I posted the photos on social media, I wrote, "This is what starvation may look like. I wonder whether the global population of 25,000 polar bears would die the way this bear is dying."
I did not say that this particular bear was killed by climate change. But news organizations around the world focused on it. The first line of the story published in National Geographic read, "This is what climate change looks like"—with "climate change" highlighted in yellow. Other news agencies even adopted more dramatic headlines.
It was estimated that my photos had been read by about 2.5 billion people around the world. But there was a problem: Most people and the news agencies didn't pick up or misunderstood the real message I tried to send with them. Many people expressed gratitude that I'd provided shocking evidence on climate change, while others who are still trying to deny the existence of climate change accused me of spreading false information.
Perhaps I had made a mistake in not telling the full story—that I was looking for pictures that might foretell the future and that I didn't know what had happened to this particular polar bear.
I can't say that this bear was starving because of climate change, but I am happy that my photos have moved the conversation about climate change to the forefront, where it must remain until this problem is solved.
Until then, when I come across a scene like this one, I will again share with the world—and take pains to be sure that my intention is clear.
