Like a car, a camera is sold as a predatory weapon - one that is as automated as possible, ready to spring. Popular taste expects an easy and invisible technology. Manufacturers reassure their customers that taking pictures demands no skill or expert knowledge, that the machine is all knowing and responds to the slightest pressure of the will. it's as simple as turning the ignition key or pulling the trigger.
Like guns and cars, cameras are fantasy machines whose use is addictive. However, despite the extravangances of ordinary language and advertising, they are not lethal. The camera does not kill, so the ominous metaphor seems all bluff - like a man's fantasy of having a gun, knife or tool between his legs. Still there is something predatory in the act of taking a picture. To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they neever see themselves, by having knowledge of them they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed. Just as the camera is the sublimation of the gun, to photograph someone is the sublimated murder.
Eventually, people might learn to act out more of their aggressions with cameras and fewer with guns, with the price being an even more image-choked world. One situation where people are switching from bulllets to film is the photographic safari that is replacing the gun safari in east Africa. The hunters have Hasselblads instead of Winchesters; instead of looking through a telescopic sight to aim a rifle, they look through a viewfinder to frame a picture. Guns have metamorphed into cameras in the earnst comedy, the ecology safari, because nature has ceased to be what it always had been - what people needed protection from. Now nature - tamed, endangered, mortal - needs to be protected from people. When we are afraid we shoot. But when we are nostalgic, we take pictures.
Penguin Classics, 1977