In the VG photographer’s apartment in Oslo, the bags with photo equipment and luggage were always ready. The first aid kit, the bulletproof vest, the helmet. Everything was already packed. When news visited in January, Harald showed the binder with banknotes of various currencies from all over the world. India, Lebanon, Israel, Ukraine, Iraq. He knew how important it was to be prepared and to have order. At most, VG’s photographer had 280 travel days a year, always to a place where there was war, crisis or disaster. He was a living legend, a role model, also outside the press environment. The only press photographer in Norway who has won the Great Journalist Award and been named a Knight 1st class of the Royal Norwegian Order of St. Olav. But now it’s over, Harald Henden doesn’t take any more photos. Hit by the bullets It was October 2023, right after the war between Hamas and Israel started. The experienced VG photographer set off, even though he didn’t feel fit. Staying at home in Norway when something important was going on outside the world was out of the question. No one knew that this would be the last job assignment. Harald photographed Israeli soldiers, destroyed houses and traces of bloody attacks on the border with Gaza. In Kfar Azza, the dead still lay in the streets. At the same time, he felt that something was wrong, something murmured in his body. He called his good friend Morten Rostrup at Doctors Without Borders, who also works at Ullevål University Hospital. The advice he received was to get home. But Harald wanted to work more, even though he felt weak and his eyes were starting to turn yellow. He consulted a doctor in Israel and received the same message. The symptoms could indicate that something was seriously wrong. Now it went quickly. Harald flew home, was admitted to hospital and examined. The X-rays gave the answer: A tumor on the pancreas. One of the most serious forms of cancer there is. The war photographer who had survived trips to the most dangerous corners of the world was suddenly out of action. But there was little hope. The doctors said it could go well if the cancerous tumor in the stomach could be surgically removed. Samples were taken, and then it was just a matter of waiting. He had had luck in his bad luck before. In 2001, Harald was shot by Israelis in the West Bank. A rubber-coated steel ball hit him in the back of the head, sending him to hospital with a deep cut and concussion. The terror he felt when he was hit turned out to be an important experience later. In the dictator’s bathtub As a youth, Harald was involved in mountain climbing, and he began photographing his comrades on the rock face. Not like the others, from the bottom up, where you mostly see the rear end of the person climbing in front of you. Harald took pictures that got noticed, and that’s how it started. He liked the excitement and the calculated risk in steep mountain walls, he told news. Coping with danger, minimizing the risk that things could go wrong, turned out to be something Harald was good at. From 1987 he worked as a photographer in VG, and was sent out into the world, to Kuwait and the Gulf War. The bosses at the newspaper quickly understood that young Henden was a man who coped with being uncomfortable and who always came home intact. Photo: Harald Henden / VG When the USA invaded Iraq in 2003, Harald was one of the few photographers present in the streets of Baghdad. Photo: Harald Henden / VG He took pictures when soldiers showered in the marble bathtub in the palace of the dictator Saddam Hussein. The conflict Harald covered most times is the one between Israel and Palestine. Often called the world’s most difficult conflict. He was there when it struck in 2006, 2008, 2009, 2012, 2014 and 2018. At Khan Younis in the south of Gaza, Harald photographed a young Palestinian throwing stones at the Israeli border fence. Photo: Harald Henden / VG The air was thick with black smoke from burning car tyres. The pictures he took showed that he often got close. That meant he was often scared. But fear is a natural part of everyday life when you work in areas of war and conflict, said Harald. He said it was about being able to control the fear. Then it could be used for something positive. – The fear made me even more cautious. So I didn’t go overboard and make the situation more dangerous. The very worst day at work On 14 January 2008, terror struck seven Norwegian journalists traveling in Afghanistan. Harald had just checked in. Behind high walls was a five-star hotel with white marble floors and a spa. Foreign Minister Jonas Gahr Støre was also there. Hotel Serena was the safest place to stay in Kabul, it was said. Suddenly, shooting and explosions were heard. Taliban terrorists attacked. Harald saw a badly injured man on the floor of the reception. He knelt down to help. Sometimes first aid is more important than documenting the incident. – It was only when I discovered that it was Carsten Thomassen who was lying there, says Harald in the news podcast “Skuddene på Serena”. The journalist from Dagbladet had an interview appointment with Støre, when the terrorist started shooting at him. The 38-year-old father of two suffered life-threatening injuries. Harald had to improvise to stop the bleeding. He had learned advanced lifesaving and now he could use the knowledge. Only an hour and a half later could Harald and the other Norwegian journalists transport the stretcher with Carsten to a military vehicle, and then to hospital. Photo: Stian Lysberg Solum / NTB They were relieved and thought they had made it. But even though they had done everything they could to save their colleague, Carsten Thomassen died of blood loss later in the evening. Photographing a dying child Few have seen more dead bodies, more wars, mass graves and natural disasters than Harald Henden. For 35 years he worked as a war photographer, and often had to explain how he endured his job. What it was like to lift the camera, focus, expose, when the subject in front of him was a small child who soon couldn’t take his breath. The famine in South Sudan in 1998 was one of the most difficult. For 48 hours, VG’s team was close to the famine in the village of Ajiep. Small, frail bodies starved to death as they lined up for help. It had gone too far, they could not be saved. Photo: Harald Henden / VG Every morning there were many people who had to be buried. Inside a straw hut, surrounded by her family, one-year-old Manon stopped breathing. Harald was allowed to be there. He took pictures of the mother lying on the dirt floor and crying when she realized that her little girl had died of starvation. – If I manage to take a picture that evokes emotion in the viewer, then I am satisfied. The aim is that the images lead to something, said Harald about the commitment that followed. There were five pages in VG, and a collection record for the aid organisations. Harald’s pictures opened Norwegians’ eyes and wallets. Afterwards he did as he used to. Put horrible impressions, own crying and powerlessness in a mental drawer and closed it again. That’s how he coped with working in misery. He turned it on and off. Distinguished between being at work and not being at work. In professional language, it’s called compartmentalizing: What you’ve experienced is there, but you manage to put the impressions aside when you’re back in everyday life. Some of the things he enjoyed doing most to relax at home were skydiving. Harald had more than 3,800 jumps and was an instructor. But some sensory impressions were impossible to put away, even for the experienced Harald. – The smell of death. I could never get used to the smell of old death in particular. He always asked permission before taking photographs. Often using simple body language. The look, the hands, he lifted the camera up to show, waiting for a nod back. Almost no one said no. – People usually want to tell their story, they want the world to know what has happened, said Harald. He mostly photographed those affected by war and conflict. Not the actual acts of war. And everyone he took pictures of got their name in print. Even if they were only four weeks old Like the malnourished twins, Mariam and Eman, in Iraq. Photo: Harald Henden / VG At a clinic in Mosul, Doctors Without Borders tried to save starving infants. The newborn pair of siblings lay close together, with a small mosquito net over their faces. Harald won several awards, and the photograph of the father with severed hands hugging his little daughter was named Picture of the Year 2000. Photo: Harald Henden / VG In Sierra Leone, people without arms, legs, lips and tongues swarmed. By maiming, rebels tried to prevent the population from voting in the election. The jury wrote that Harald Henden conveyed warmth and love in a brutal world. The last assignment After ten days at the Gaza border in October last year, Harald returned home to hospital and a cancer diagnosis. Although he was cautious about Googling and pondering, he knew that without surgery he could not survive. Eight out of ten people who develop pancreatic cancer die within a few months. – I was fired when I got the message. Not only that it was cancer, but that it was the worst kind, said Harald. He received news at home in his apartment, three months after he received the death sentence. He lived alone, had neither wife nor children. It just happened that way, the job took up most of his life. Photo: Patrick da Silva Sæther/news For a short while there was hope that the tumor could be removed, but new tests showed that the cancer had spread. There was no use in surgery anyway. Most people live 2–6 months after receiving this diagnosis. Harald agreed to life-prolonging treatment, chemotherapy, which gave him a few extra months. He chose to be open about the disease, and appeared for countless interviews in newspapers, radio and TV. As a photographer for over thirty years, he had lived off others agreeing to tell. Now he wanted to meet colleagues and the public in the same way. Photo: Patrick da Silva Sæther/news Harald called it bad luck that he fell ill. But not unfair. – I have seen so many people suffer sudden and brutal death, and they have been much younger than me. I’ve been allowed to live for 63 years, that’s not too bad. In March 2024, he received the press photographers’ honorary award, and in May Harald Henden was awarded Fritt Ord’s award for his strong efforts for freedom of expression. Photo: Javad Parsa / NTB In the same month, many of his best photos were published in the photo book, “The human eye”. Even those who are not alive must be shown respect, said Harald. – Pictures must be taken in a way that ensures that the dead person retains his dignity. Photographing the dead and the dead was never the worst thing for Harald. The hardest part of all was meeting relatives in crisis and deep grief. – Dying is quite simple. Sitting back is much more difficult. Harald Henden died quietly and peacefully at Diakonhjemmet hospital on Wednesday 3 July at 11 a.m. with his good friend Morten Rostrup from Doctors Without Borders by his side.
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War photographer Harald Henden’s last assignment – Documentary
