Instagram is Now Hiding Photoshopped Photos

In an effort to combat misinformation and fake news, Instagram recently rolled out a new feature that flags fake photos.. But now some photographers are wondering whether the system is going too far and making it harder to share and view certain types of photography.

San Francisco-based photographer Toby Harriman was scrolling through his main Instagram feed a few days ago when he saw the “False Information” warning pop up for the first time.

After clicking through the overlay hiding the post, Harriman found that it was simply a photo of a man standing on rainbow-colored mountains.

“Looks like Instagram x Facebook will start tagging false photos/digital art,” Harriman writes.

Instagram has said that the system uses “a combination of feedback from our community and technology” to identify which photos to pass onto third-party independent fact-checkers. If those fact-checkers determine that a photo is fake, it’s hidden behind a warning message before anyone can view it.

What’s more, “fake” photos are also removed from Explore and Hashtag pages and automatically flagged in future posts.

“Interesting to see this and curious if it’s a bit too far,” Harriman continues. “As much as I do love it to help better associate real vs Photoshop. I also have a huge respect for digital art and don’t want to have to click through barriers to see it.”

The scene through the viewfinder was one of pastoral beauty: a thatched and jettied cottage, with colorful Gertrude Jekyll borders full of Lupins.

As my eyes drank in the peached colors of summer, a single press of the shutter button on my camera brought me tumbling back into the splintered blues of winter.

Beyond the viewfinder, it was a cold winter’s day. I was stood in the Cheesden Brook, layered up and swaddled with the singular task of photographing a fragment of pot that I’d found lodged between two rocks on the riverbed.

It was here, that several months ago I’d come across a midden.

I’ve read somewhere that one of our greatest freedoms is how we react to things, but at that moment in time, shivering with feet sodden, I couldn’t help but question my role or motivation in all of this.

One look at the image on the screen at the back of my camera answered my question.

Instantly, I felt connected to something that felt bigger than me.

My action with the camera wasn’t only an act of recording the small fragments of people’s lives, but also an act of affirmation.

It was the same kind of motivation (against all the logical rationale of a wartime mentality) that led to the commissioning of artists during the Second World War to go out and record the things we might lose. The scheme for “Recording Britain” produced over 1500 works of art. Similarly, in 1939, Berenice Abbott was commissioned by the US Federal Art Project to photograph the changing vistas of New York.

Child’s leather shoe found on the right bank at Cheesden

At times when life was thin and the future looking flaky, somewhere deep down in the steady waters of humanity – acts of artistry recorded what we might lose, and in doing so, affirmed the innate goodness of the human condition.

Somehow, and I’m not quite sure why, photographing these things matters.

Sometimes our discoveries lead to a deeper understanding of ourselves.

Out of the darkest recesses of an ice-cold riverbed came the smallest most precious fragment of beauty.

This is what makes me lift up my camera.

Here at Cheesden, somebody scattered what they thought didn’t matter, unaware that these orphaned sherds of China, with a little antiquity, would rejuvenate their forms like starfish and assert their own memories upon the present.

They were cast like seeds in the clay for a hundred years or more, composting the earth with the delights of an age in suspended animation, becoming reliquaries.

And then the brook, in full spate, crashed through the narrows and lopped off the memory bank, releasing decades of chatter in its vaporous spray; rattling the pots, faceting the glass, and – for at least one human being – re-asserting a profoundly nourishing connection with humanity.