It may be a cheap cliché, but the words “The horror, the horror” invariably spring to my mind when I browse through the World Press Photo’s annual collection of prize- winning photographs. They’re an unsettling sight, these children mourning their buried relatives, the haunted, fearful looks on the faces of displaced people, refugees, civilians under fire, HIV/Aids victims, child prostitutes, victims of war, brutality and oppression. The horror is all over, smack dab in your face, a catalogue of civil strife, conflict, human chaos, burnt out buildings, skeletal remains, violence, body parts, guns, guns and more guns. Yet the World Press Photo is more than a representation of war and despair. Take a look, after the speeches, at Sharon Stone in her platinum dress in Emmanuel Scorcelletti’s photograph, flamboyantly throwing back her platinum hair in a triumphant pose to photographers in Cannes. Or try to avert your gaze from the eerie, hypnotizingly limpid cityscapes of Shanghai and Hong Kong by Peter Bialobrzeski. I like these pictures, even if I cannot tell you why. They have a quality of immediacy that is difficult to describe, but that is definitely present. But somehow, the mercilessness, the brutality remain, even in those seemingly anodyne pictures of the Serpentine swimming club or of Yves Saint Laurent having lunch. The juxtaposition of war, despair and destruction with mundane affairs like sports, animals and personalities has a discomforting effect. It is as if Saint Laurent himself has become Conrad’s protagonist in The Heart of Darkness, or Coppola’s Colonel Kurtz, blankly gazing into emptiness, and muttering “The horror, the horror.”

It is undeniable: we live in a world of horror, although we try our best to keep it at bay. Here at the United Nations, even if we discuss the situation in Iraq, Sierra Leone, Kosovo, East Timor, Liberia, Georgia, Burundi, Haiti or the Middle East almost daily, we keep the immediate horror at bay with sterile formulations, resolutions, words like ‘deeply worried’, ‘condemning’, ‘encourages the parties’ or ‘urges the UN to take action.’ Ours is a dangerous job, for we risk losing our grip on reality. If we put too much trust into the words that we deal with on a daily basis, we risk becoming complacent and congratulating ourselves with our contributions to peace and stability.

I believe complacency can be avoided. If we do not want to descend into cynicism, we need to be reminded of the horror that affects innocent civilians in war torn countries. We need the immediacy of photographs to slap us in the face and tell us that human dignity is being trampled upon on a daily basis. And we need photographers who break the rules, who revolt against accepted standards of beauty and estheticism, who realize that their work touches upon the uniqueness of human experience, but also on its cruelty, its loneliness and its horror.

I believe tonight’s World Press Photo selection is a magnificent attempt at revolt and at rebellion. And that’s exactly what good photojournalists are supposed to do. If we, the diplomats represent the established way of dealing with the world, photojournalists represent the necessary antidote to dealing with that same world, with a view to keeping it alive, screaming and kicking.