Fournier later explained that rescuing Omayra was not possible under the circumstances he encountered. He defended the importance of documenting her plight, arguing that the story needed to be told and that the public response could help draw attention to the wider disaster.
He also acknowledged the difficult position of the photojournalist, whose responsibility to document events can come into conflict with the instinct to intervene.
His image forced viewers to confront an uncomfortable question: when witnessing suffering that cannot be stopped, what is the responsibility of the person holding the camera?
There is no simple answer to that question. Every emergency has its own circumstances, and journalists must consider whether they can safely help, whether trained responders are already working, and whether their actions could make the situation worse.
But the photograph ensured that Omayra's suffering was not forgotten.
It helped transform an individual tragedy into a powerful symbol of the human cost of disaster and the urgent need for preparedness, effective rescue systems, and responsible leadership.
The Controversy: Should the Photographer Have Put Down His Camera?
As the photograph reached international audiences, Fournier faced criticism from people who questioned why he had continued documenting Omayra's ordeal rather than attempting to rescue her himself.
The criticism reflected a deeply human reaction.
When people see someone suffering, especially a child, they naturally want to know why no one could save them. A photograph can make that feeling even more intense because the viewer sees a moment of vulnerability without experiencing the physical constraints surrounding the scene.
From a distance, it can be tempting to imagine that a different decision might have changed the outcome.
However, the actual circumstances were far more complicated.
Omayra was trapped beneath heavy debris in difficult terrain. Her lower body could not be freed easily, and the available rescue resources were insufficient to complete the operation. The surrounding conditions created serious obstacles for the people attempting to help.
Fournier later explained in interviews that rescuing her was beyond what he could accomplish. He maintained that documenting the scene was important because the world needed to understand the scale of the disaster and the failures that had contributed to its devastating consequences.
He also argued that the image helped generate international attention and support for those affected by the eruption.
This defense does not mean that every decision made by a journalist during an emergency is automatically justified. The ethics of photojournalism remain complex, particularly when vulnerable people are involved.
Photographers must consider dignity, consent where possible, the potential consequences of publication, and whether their presence interferes with rescue efforts.
At the same time, documenting a disaster can serve a purpose beyond recording an event. Images can preserve evidence, challenge official narratives, mobilize assistance, and encourage changes that might prevent future tragedies.
The central ethical question is not simply whether a photographer should take a picture or put down the camera.
It is whether the photographer can responsibly document suffering while respecting the person experiencing it and recognizing any realistic opportunity to provide assistance.
In Omayra's case, Fournier believed that the photograph's importance lay in its ability to make distant audiences confront the consequences of the disaster.
He later expressed the hope that the image had helped raise awareness and support for the affected population, while also highlighting serious failures in preparedness and response.
The photograph became a reminder that the work of witnessing can carry a heavy burden.
It also demonstrated the limits of what an image can accomplish. A photograph can move people, inspire discussion, and preserve a moment in history, but it cannot reverse the destruction that has already occurred.
Omayra's death remained irreversible.
The responsibility that followed was to understand why the disaster had become so deadly and how future communities could be better protected.
The Warnings That Came Before the Disaster
The destruction of Armero was not caused solely by the physical force of the eruption.
Scientists had identified the possibility that an eruption of Nevado del Ruiz could melt glacial ice and generate lahars. Hazard assessments had been developed, and warnings had circulated before November 13, 1985.
The problem was that identifying a danger and protecting a population from it are not the same thing.
Warnings must reach the people who need them. Authorities must communicate the risk clearly, and communities must understand what actions they should take. Evacuation routes, emergency plans, transportation, shelters, and coordination among agencies all matter.
In Armero, these elements did not come together effectively enough to prevent mass casualties.
Officials faced uncertainty about the timing and scale of a possible eruption. Communication was complicated, and the population was not evacuated in time to avoid the worst consequences.
These failures became a central part of the subsequent public debate.
The disaster exposed the need for stronger coordination between scientists and government agencies, clearer public communication, and practical plans that could be activated when a threat became imminent.
It also highlighted a difficult reality: scientific warnings are only useful when decision-makers and communities can translate them into action.
A warning that remains technical, unclear, or disconnected from everyday life may fail to produce the response necessary to save lives.
For residents, the challenge is equally significant. People must be able to trust the information they receive, understand the seriousness of the threat, and know where to go when an evacuation is ordered.
The Armero tragedy became an important lesson for disaster management in Colombia and internationally.
It demonstrated that volcanic hazards cannot be evaluated solely by the size of an eruption. The interaction between the volcano, glaciers, river valleys, infrastructure, and nearby communities can determine whether an event becomes catastrophic.
A relatively modest eruption can produce devastating consequences if it generates large lahars that travel through populated areas.
The lesson extends beyond volcanoes.
Floods, landslides, hurricanes, earthquakes, and other hazards can become far more destructive when warnings are ignored, evacuation plans are inadequate, or vulnerable communities lack the resources needed to respond.
Preparedness requires investment before disaster strikes.
It requires reliable monitoring, effective public education, clear responsibilities, and the willingness to act even when uncertainty remains.
The tragedy of Armero showed the cost of failing to connect scientific knowledge with timely protective action.
A Town Erased, a Community Forever Changed
After the lahars passed through Armero, the scale of destruction became almost impossible to comprehend.
The town that had once supported thousands of residents was buried beneath mud and debris. Streets, homes, businesses, and public spaces disappeared. Families searched for missing relatives while survivors attempted to understand what had happened to the community they had known.