It’s been two and a half years since Jay and I cunningly rearranged life to be nearer the sea. In this time I feel my photography has improved quite a bit, given the hours i’ve spent both underwater hitting the shutter button and to a lesser extent above water gently massaging my images in post processing.

But one thing that hasn’t seemed to improve is my ability to spot the more sought-after macro critters, particularly those perched perfectly in front of an appropriately coloured background or a suitable neutral space to capture just the right details. Why can’t I spy these little blighters? And why, on the rare occasions I do spot them, must they always be treating me to a full view of their backsides rather than the quirky character of their faces? Where is my invitation to the macro subject’s daily photo shoot appearance that so many other underwater photographers seem to have a VIP pass to? That’s what I want to know.

Social media is partly responsible for my expectations. There are some magnificent photographers out there with the vision to see an opportunity where I would not, granted. Some will spend a very long time returning to the same place in search of the right pose or the right behaviour – I do this to a point but i’m certain my commitment pales in comparison. Others will dive deeper & longer with equipment such as closed circuit rebreathers that help in certain aspects of marine photography.

Local knowledge is also a factor. Many of the dive guides around our current spot on the north east coast of Bali have spent hundreds of dives practising their ‘targeted species dives’, which is diving with the express intention of practising the search for a particular predetermined creature. This is in preparation for the camera toting hoards of photographers who arrive and express a real desire to depart with some great frames of the latest ‘on trend’ species. The guides are astonishingly skilled at what they do – I bet not one rogue grain of rice escapes their attention when they tidy their kitchens, because that’s the size of the frogfish they seem to be able to spot with alarming regularity.

I suppose that will come with time and experience for me, but at this stage Jay and I are diving independently, meaning we have no guide. Currently our dives can be up to 2 hours long without annoying a poor guide who wants to get back to the surface to continue life. It also saves us a little money, perhaps at the expense of their eagle eyes and my photographic wish-list.

Education and awareness are also involved. I’ve taken to some gripping bed time reading about the survival strategies of various marine creatures which i’m hoping will pay off in the long run by giving me clues as to behaviour, camouflage and perhaps location. Getting better acquainted with my subject has always been my tactic, and until recently I have assumed this is the journey all other photographers have gone on.

But another fairly fundamental factor has come to light. One that has been discussed quite a bit recently because people seem to have wildly differing views on what it actually is, let alone whether they approve: Environmental and creature manipulation in the pursuit of the photo you really really want… What qualifies as foul play? What if anything doesn’t? What shapes peoples’ attitudes to it? What can be done to keep marine habitats safe for all the inhabitants, and for all the humans who rely on the tourism it generates?

Over dinner a few nights ago it was no surprise to hear a fellow photographer admit that he would have hardly been able to spot – let alone shoot – any of the critters he has taken simply beautiful shots of, without the help of his guide. But I was surprised to hear that the search also involved turning over rocks and generally disturbing both soft and hard coral. Furthermore, once found, the subject might be physically moved into the open, even turned so they were facing the right way for the shot. I was surprised indeed.

I think he saw the look on my face and then assured me that the guide would always sensitively return anything to the way he found it once the shots had been achieved and he would see the animal going about its business again, apparently unfazed. He asked me what I thought the difference was between this behaviour and a group of naturalists turning logs in a forest looking for wood lice and other species – a good question. He also pointed out that storms regularly ravage a dive site, turning rocks and breaking coral with a far greater and more destructive impact than his dive guide ever could.

I had to concede that there seems to be a marked difference in perception between this and people tramping across a forest, throwing sticks for dogs and foraging. These are all delicate habitats much like our underwater kingdom, yet nobody bats an eyelid. Should we be tiptoeing across our planet for fear of affecting the smallest creatures that live here? I suppose we wouldn’t learn as much about life on our planet, besides being fairly impractical and not much fun.

Personally I suspect that the sheer volume of fin-flapping, coral grabbing, camera toting tourists that pour through popular dive destinations do have a greater net-negative effect on marine life than the storms and surge and swell, but that’s not a very scientific statement. Nature’s brutal forces have certainly been hard at work since long before Cousteau, David Doubilet and Alex Mustard brought the underwater world into our homes.

I am certainly an advocate of leaving a zero impact on the environment. But equally I do appreciate underwater photographers have a role to play in helping the world fall in love with sea life, and I would argue that with that comes an inevitable amount of touching and steadying oneself in order to achieve the photo. But when I hear stories of snapping sections of gorgonian fan with resident pygmy sea horses attached to it in order to take to a shallower depth for a better background or to extend a photographer’s no-decompression limit – personally I draw the line. Surely we can keep a vague grasp on the concepts of right and wrong in the pursuit of success in photographic competitions, can’t we?

There are things that we as ambassadors to the underwater world clearly have control over. Attitude, awareness and education can play great roles in changing behaviour here. I suggest that the first step towards this is to start actually discussing and recording creature manipulation and environmental footprints so we know where the community conscience sits.

A good suggestion I heard recently to heighten awareness is adding ‘exif’ metadata to photographs, specifically to record these aspects of the shoot – was the subject in captivity or fed? Was their natural environment disturbed to find the subject or frame the shot? Was the subject moved? How long was the subject photographed for? Was it lit by strobe, torch or natural light? Did it seem stressed? Collecting this data would be useful to photographers, guides and resorts, as well as environmental agencies and policy makers further up the chain. If photographers and guides understand that they are not on trial and they are collecting really useful scientific data, then they might be more encouraged to participate honestly.

Changing the educational aspect is equally as critical. I see a lot of people who appear to have neither the buoyancy control nor the fin awareness to be let loose near fragile reef life with a camera. While I would not expect a dive guide to forfeit their hard earned wages by turning these people away, I believe they or their employers have some responsibility to the upkeep of their working environment. If that means having a polite word with more heavy handed divers about their positioning or technique then surely that benefits everyone involved. In some places I know this culture has been adopted by the dive resort and I welcome it with open arms.

But assuming most guides wouldn’t want to risk their customer care by tackling this issue, perhaps the responsibility to ensure better diving practises lies at a more grass roots level – with the certification agencies. I expect shrewd marketing and sharp business sense has dictated that ‘speciality’ courses such as fine-tuning buoyancy should be an optional extra rather than a core skill. OK, that view may be a little cynical. I know that the big training agencies now push an environmental sustainability message far more than they ever used to, but getting the right philosophy at the very beginning has to be a positive step, so i’m sure there is room for improvement in education.

In the end there are no marine minders to police our behaviour behind the veil of the underwater murk, so it’s still very much up to the diving individual to decide where their line is drawn. The more that people understand the issues and impacts, the better equipped they are to make well informed decisions on this topic for the good of the habitats they dive in and their own safety.