The photographer who gave his life to tell the truth about Gaddafi's Libya
Chris was never short of words or stories, yet my most powerful memory of him occurs when I look at his overall body of work – and at an image of him that sits on my desk. It is impossible for me to choose a “favourite” Chris image; the essence of the man, his humanity and deep warmth, always came through no matter how terrible the situation.
Chris was one of the first photographers we hired when we decided to support photojournalism. His insights and ethics helped form the foundation of our news organisation, and he took tremendous pride in what achieved since those early days.
A Liberian militia commander loyal to the government after firing a rocket-propelled grenade at rebel forces on a key strategic bridge in Monrovia, Liberia. July 20 2003. Photograph: Chris Hondros/Getty Images Photograph: Chris Hondros/Getty Images
Chris’ death in Libya was a seismic event for every one of us who had come to know and love him over the years. Only a few weeks before Chris’ death in April 2011, our colleague, the photographer Joe Raedle, was captured and tortured by Muammar Gaddafi’s forces in Libya. Through the efforts of the international journalism community, Joe was released. Chris felt it was important for him to be there to greet Joe when he crossed the border to safety. This was typical of the man.
When they arrived in New York, the three of us, together with Pancho Bernasconi, our director of photography, discussed the risks of going back to Libya at that time. Chris was resolute that the story had to be told. This is the dilemma at the core of conflict photography. We know and understand the risks; we stress that no picture is worth a life. Yet Chris, like so many photojournalists, believed it is critical to cover stories in depth, educate society about the wider world and, if necessary, be at the front line.
A local man is photographed through the window of a US Army Humvee as he stands on the side of a road on the outskirts of Herat, Afghanistan. October 24 2010. Photograph: Chris Hondros/Getty Images Photograph: Chris Hondros/Getty Images
We held a memorial for Chris in Brooklyn at the church where he was due to be married a few months later. There was a profound sense of loss — many of us still in a state of shock and disbelief. A couple of days later, we went to Chris’ hometown in North Carolina for his funeral. The contrast between the two places could not have been starker — busy, noisy, cosmopolitan Brooklyn and the small military town of Fayetteville. There was no difference, however, in the love, regard and esteem people felt for Chris.
Five-year-old Samar Hassan screams after her parents were killed by US Soldiers with the 25th Infantry Division in Tal Afar, Iraq. The Hassan family car was fired upon when it unwittingly approached them during a dusk patrol. 18 January 2005 Photograph: Chris Hondros/ Getty Images Photograph: Chris Hondros/Getty Images
People from all parts of the world and all walks of life mourned his death. Tributes came from the White House and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, as well as from those who had known Chris since he was a child. They all recognised that the work Chris had chosen was important and that he was one of the best in the world.
A rebel fighter celebrates as his comrades fire a rocket barrage at forces loyal to Muammar Gaddafi west of Ajdabiyah, Libya. This photograph was taken 6 days before Hondros was killed, with fellow photojournalist Tim Hetherington, in Libya on April 20 2011.
Photograph: Chris Hondros/Getty Images Photograph: Chris Hondros/Getty Images
A longer version of this text is published as an introduction to Testament, photographs and text by Chris Hondros. Published by powerHouse books in April 2014. The proceeds from the sale of the book will be donated to the Chris Hondros Fund.