In the tur­moil and con­fu­sion of the post-election Iran, strict con­trol of inform­a­tion is a key tool in quash­ing dis­sent. Media access is severely restric­ted, for­eign journ­al­ists are con­fined to their hotels, and com­mu­nic­a­tions net­works are being dis­mantled. There are even reports of mili­tias con­fis­cat­ing satel­lite dishes. The cur­tain has been drawn on Iran. It is, how­ever, already too late.

A man with a briefcase pre­pares to throw a peice of con­crete dur­ing post-election protests in Tehran, Iran

Defin­ing images of the con­flict have already been pro­duced. Some of the best come from French pho­to­grapher Olivier Laban-Mattei, a staff pho­to­grapher for Agence-France Press. He seems to be every­where at once in these pho­tos, like some sort of all-seeing super-human.

Pho­tos from protests, even viol­ent protests, are often all the same: masked pro­test­ers, scary riot police, outraged march­ers, hoo­ligans. These pho­tos trans­mit noth­ing more than the basic and obvi­ous: some people are upset. Here is an image that oper­ates on a higher level. Laban-Mattei’s photo of a cement-throwing office worker gives us much more than a simple story of anger and viol­ence. In effect, the story of the pho­to­graph extends far past the bor­ders of the frame.  It raises ques­tions. Why is this man dressed for work?  Was he com­pelled to join on the way home from his job?  What is in the briefcase?  What would com­pel a seem­ingly nor­mal per­son to engage in pub­lic violence?

There is incred­ible sym­bolic con­tent to the photo of the young man cov­er­ing his face with a blood-soaked ker­chief. It appears that he is cry­ing tears. There is also a reflex­ive qual­ity to this pho­to­graph, in the sense that you can feel the pres­ence of the pho­to­grapher in the situ­ation. I think that this qual­ity, pres­ence, is an integ­ral part of effect­ive pho­to­graphy and hon­est report­ing. The truth and value of pho­tos like these is in the feel­ing of intim­ate real­ity that they provide. Only pho­to­graphy can do this, freez­ing forever that moment, so that the exist­ence of this frac­tion of a second can­not be for­got­ten or refuted. In a sense, this photo is not really about the young man. He is an object, a per­son without past or future bey­ond this moment. What is real, and tran­scend­ent, about this pho­to­graph is the rela­tion­ship between the pho­to­grapher and the sub­ject. View­ing this photo, I feel like I am there.

Defeated Ira­nian pres­id­en­tial can­did­ate Mousavi waves to sup­port­ers at a mass protest in Tehran, Iran

Pho­to­graphs like these will come to define the con­flict in Iran. Already, the pho­to­graph of the young man covered in blood has been turned into posters car­ried by march­ers. Ira­ni­ans face an extremely chal­len­ging situ­ation. SMS (text mes­saging) ser­vices, cell phone ser­vice, radio trans­mis­sions, and Inter­net are being jammed. Still, mes­sages are escap­ing the fil­ter. An extraordin­ary num­ber of mov­ing videos and pho­tos have been recor­ded and uploaded by pro­test­ers them­selves. For the regime, it is already too late, pho­to­graphs like these have escaped to expose the con­flict to the world, and more import­antly, to Ira­ni­ans. Whatever the out­come of this crisis, it will be impossible in the com­ing years to deny the viol­ence and injustice of these days. The regime will be changed by the test­a­ment of doc­u­ment­ary photography.

I under­stand that Olivier Laban-Mattei is now en-route back to France.