In an age of rolling TV news, what is the press photograph worth? And how can snappers these days escape the perils of controlling PR managers and insensitive editors? The photographer Tim Bishop introduces a book that has some answers

Robert Capa said: "If your pictures aren't good enough, you're not close enough." One of the greatest war photographers, Capa risked his life again and again, most dramatically when he landed with the first wave of troops on Omaha Beach on D-Day in 1944. Not only did he nearly lose his life, but his images were almost lost to history. Although he shot many rolls, all but one were destroyed. Back in London, the film spent too long in a drying cabinet and only a few frames were salvageable.

Modern technology enables photographers to transmit their images straight from the front line - and yet, frustratingly, it is becoming more and more difficult to get "close enough" to the action. This is largely because of the rise of the public relations manager, who would have been unknown to Capa. In the last Gulf war, embedded photographers working under PR people had far less access than those who went in at their own risk, such as Eddie Mulholland of the Daily Telegraph.

In return for high wages, PR managers offer their clients a high level of control. They do this by favouring certain photographers and denying access to others. A PR nightmare in the case of war is having pictures of American soldiers burning villages, or suffering horrible casualties themselves. Access to such scenes was completely uncontrolled in the late 1960s. The great war photographer Don McCullin was prevented from going to the Falklands with the British forces because they didn't want Vietnam-style coverage.

The danger of PR control is that it erodes the skill of the photographer; if they are all kept in a press pen, photographers can end up producing pretty much the same image. While some risk their lives to take pictures that differ from the rest, others rise above the mundane nature of their assignments to record something memorable, even humorous.

The image of Tony Blair is one of the most guarded of all prime ministers ever, and access to him is heavily controlled by PR managers. Everything is set up and photo-called. But in Five Thousand Days, a new book featuring work from members of the British Press Photographers' Association, there is an unusually uncontrolled picture of Blair. Taken by David Sandison of the Independent, it shows the Prime Minister at his constituency home, leaning back in a chair and stretching his arms up, completely unposed. We really do lack pictures such as this, and they are important. It reveals Blair the human being, not a carefully presented politician. The best of press photography provides insight into the person or the event unfolding.

Five Thousand Days is a collection of iconic photographs taken over the past 15 years. Beginning with revolution in Prague and ending with Jonny Wilkinson's Rugby World Cup-winning kick, the pictures document a world in constant flux, chronicling pinnacles of success and achievement, as well as depths of human suffering. Many of the images will be familiar to most viewers, such as the people dancing on top of the Berlin Wall, or Diana, Princess of Wales sitting alone in front of the Taj Mahal. But others, filed too late for printing deadlines, cropped or lost in the churning news process, are shown in full for the first time. For example, the book features an amazing picture taken by Timothy Allen on 11 September 2001: in the departure lounge of Barcelona Airport, a television screens the events in New York, while outside a jumbo jet sits on the chocks. That picture was never used.

Press photography, as I understand it, is about struggling to find the exclusive, the new perspective from a unique vantage point, working alone. The best press photographer is the person who manages to get something that everyone else has missed.

The major difference between press photography and rolling television news is that a TV cameraman has to focus on a subject for a period of time in order to build up a picture, whereas a photographer can get an image in an instant. An example of a stills camera beating a television camera came in the aftermath of the Mos-cow theatre siege in 2002. The Russian police had kept everyone well back from the scene, and apart from official footage of the dead terrorists, television had only rather distant pictures. The photographer Justin Sutcliffe, however, legged it down the road and snatched a shot of a young female hostage slumped in the back of a bus while it stood at traffic lights.

Five Thousand Days is not supposed to be a historical record of events, but an intensely personal selection by members of the British Press Photographers' Association. The point of it, as op-posed to "Picture of the Year" collections, is that it has been edited by the photographers themselves, who often complain that newspaper editors fail to use their pictures properly.

Five Thousand Days: press photography in a changing world is published by David & Charles (£29.99)

A major exhibition of the photos from the book is on display at the Lyttelton Foyer, National Theatre, London SE1 (020 7452 3400) until 4 December. Entrance is free

Tim Bishop is secretary of the British Press Photographers' Association

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