Kris Cheng is not your average senior at Stanford University, studying Energy Resources Engineering and traveling to places as diverse as rural Mongolia to research solar technology uses for nomadic communities. He is a self-taught photographer with an eye for the dramatic, capturing subjects in their natural environment but posed to enhance the style, expression, and intensity of the human condition. Kris's portraits explore the intimacy of his subjects, while also depicting the harsh realities of poverty and underdevelopment. This budding photographer captured the attention of the Center on Democracy, Development, and the Rule of Law, when he submitted the winning photograph in a competition sponsored by the Center. 

The CDDRL photo competition was intended to encourage students, faculty, and staff, to submit their original photos, which illustrate themes central to CDDRL's research mission. The selection committee was impressed by the diversity and professionalism of the entries received depicting scenes of democratic expression, abject poverty, and new technology use, among others. From  over 60 entries, Kris Cheng's image of a small boy gazing into a trash-clogged river in an unincorporated slum outside of Manila in the Philippines was selected. His imagery captured both the challenges and opportunities of the work we are engaged in and his technical style left the selection committee wanting to know more about this young photographer.

I sat down with this incredibly humble engineer who is an avid outdoorsman with a penchant for adventure sports and extreme environments, to discuss his winning photograph, the journey that brought him to where he is today, and his plans for photography going forward.  

Q: Kris, tell me a little bit about yourself and when you first embraced photography.

A: I started becoming interested in photography as a hobby at the end of high school when I was a senior.  I went all over taking photos, traveling, and kept taking more photos and was continuously improving. Overtime, it became a passion and something that I am intimately attached with - second nature, in a sense.

Q: Did you ever have any formal training in photography or is it all the learn as you go method?

A: I adopted the learn as you go approach to photography, taking a lot of photographs, searching the Internet to find images I like and exploring why I liked those certain images. Being self-taught, I found the Internet to be an amazing resource to learn from other photographs, replicate others, imitate other styles, and gain new techniques and insights to apply to my own work. Photography is a creative process that doesn't lend well to a rigid school environment, so for me it's been learning by doing. See what you like and don't like, and always keep maximizing or minimizing those characteristics. It's an iterative approach.  

All of my favorite photographers were more or less untrained - Joey Lawrence and Chase Jarvis are among the photographers I follow the most.  

Q: Stylistically, how would you describe your genre of photography? Your photographs are remarkable in the way you incorporate light and reflections, please tell me more about how you achieve this effect.

A: I do a more stylized and dramatic form of photography that I guess you could call elaborate portraiture. Everything I do is more or less planned. I get an idea in my mind for how I want them (the subjects) to look and pose based on what they have been doing. In this sense, it is not artificial, but rather trying to bring out certain qualities I see in the subject.  I use a wide range of lighting equipment, such as remotely triggered external flashes to achieve the effects in my pictures depending on the location. My travel-sized lights are not nearly as powerful as the sun, so I had to wait until a golden period around sunset each day when I could achieve the desired lighting effects.  

Q: Do you have a particular niche?

A: I do a wide range of photography, including fashion, nature, and commercial work. I don't have a particular niche per se, but I do have a very distinct style evident in all of my photos.

Q: How do you gain the trust of subjects in your photographs to capture them in such intimate and realistic ways? What is the process you go through to gain their confidence?

A: I understand the importance of the human connection and photography is secondary to this, a way of documenting interaction. I went to Mongolia last year to research solar technologies and their applications for nomadic households, namely cooking.  I was working with the non-profit ADRA in integrating one of their entrepreneurial programs for impoverished families and went on a 20-day trip across Western  Mongolia with some Mongolians. All interactions were unplanned, and we stayed with families for a few days at a time to do experiments with solar cooking, gain input, and test out conditions in the field. For me, it was very important to establish a relationship of trust with these Mongolian families and interact using humor as a bridge.

For my type of photography, it is essential to engage with people and make them feel comfortable. After I felt that a mutual sense of trust had been reached, I would let them know that I had a camera and make sure they were comfortable with their photo being captured or if they had particular preferences. I always make it a point to send the prints after they are done, though with nomadic families it's not exactly easy.

Q: That provides a great background to your work in Mongolia but I would love to hear more about your trip to the Philippines where you captured the winning image.  

A: Two summers ago in 2009, I traveled to the Philippines to conduct a feasibility study of biogas integration into a village. That particular picture was taken in an unincorporated slum that was in the process of being transformed into a village by a non-profit called GK just outside Manila.  We spent two days there and it was really hard to get to know people as I was busy with my own work and there were significant language barriers - I didn't have the type of time afforded to me in Mongolia. In this village, I came across a little boy who was looking over the trash filled river that ran through his slum, and it was striking how the boy was interacting with these conditions. Places like these are a common occurrence throughout the Philippines and especially the developing world as a whole, and through the perspective of this boy I was hoping to convey the scene from a more intimate and "local" point of view. These kids play in and around the river like it's nothing, because this is their reality and they know nothing different.

Q: What has been your favorite place to photograph from among your international travels?

A: It partly depends on where I am in terms of photography. The Philippines was a really good stepping point for Mongolia in terms of audacity and planning. I learned a lot from my experiences in the Philippines, and was really able to build and expand on that when I went to Mongolia. I expect this trend to hopefully continue.

Q: Is there a future trip planned?

A: Yes, certainly! Not this summer as I need to stay in the area and get a job, but I am expecting my next trip to be up north to Greenland for a different photographic experience that is particularly focused on nature.

Q: Have you ever considered using your photographs to build awareness and bring attention to development challenges?

A: Photography goes hand in hand with the work I have been doing in international development and I hope that my work is eye-opening for a lot of people. I know there is a lot more I could be doing to make that a focus but at this point in my career I am not sure how far I want to take photography in comparison to other development projects that I feel are more tangible.

Q: But are the two necessarily mutually exclusive? Can't development and photography go hand in hand?

A: I have definitely thought of that and in what ways we can combine the two to use photography in a very new way that can provide a more lasting impact. Documentary photography has no doubt proven to be an enormous force for social change on a variety of occasions, but this is certainly not the only way photography can play a role in development. Photography touches on a very important aspect of the human condition, especially when dealing with issues of empowerment and self-worth, and I think there is much more potential to capitalize on that. Kids with Cameras (an NGO) is a great example.

Q: What are your tools of the trade?

A:  I currently have a Canon 5D Mark II and use a 16-35mm f2.8 and 50 mm f1.4 lens, with a whole range of additional accessories and equipment. I started with an entry level Nikon D50 camera several years ago and slowly worked up my way up. Luckily, my side work freelancing allows for me to pay for my personal work and equipment.

 Q: Tell me more about the professional work you do.

A: My professional work includes freelance commercial work like music photography, portraiture, and magazine profiles. I recently contributed to a feature on eco-fashion for the New York Times, which entailed a sustainable fashion photo shoot. Before, I would just take any job I got and went full steam ahead with it for the sake of experience and (some) money, but now I'm able to be more selective with what I take on.

Q: Have you ever exhibited your photos?

A: Not really, I know a lot of other people have but I do not necessarily like to heavily promote my work. That's not really my style, and I have other commitments to balance. I haven't tried but am open to getting more exposure. To be honest, I haven't done a stellar job of properly displaying my work outside of the Internet.

Q: Do you imagine a future career for yourself as a photographer? Where do you see yourself heading with this hobby for which you are clearly talented?

A: Four years ago, I had no idea where this was going to lead or that it would get me to this point, but I guess that goes with a lot of the things I do. Hopefully, this will be something I can balance with my career, although there were a few moments when I was tempted to drop everything and just become a photographer. Lately, I have gotten into documentary filmmaking because it is a natural progression for a lot of photographers and further allows me to make a real impact with my work to highlight different social issues. It suits me well to travel to all these places where no one wants to, or is willing to go. I thrive in extreme environments.

For more information on Kris Cheng's photography, please visit www.krischeng.com.

The nine other finalists in our CDDRL photo contest include (in no particular order); Thomas Alan Hendee (student), Jorge Olarte Blanco (student), Rachel Quint (student), Francis Fukuyama (staff), Jon Strahl (student), Omar Shakir (student), and Marina Latu (staff). Please reference the gallery below for samples of their winning entries.

A reception honoring our winner and finalists will be held on Friday, January 28 from 11:30-1:00 pm in the lobby of Encina Hall.

WASHINGTON - Hours before the judge in the latest Mikhail Khodorkovsky trial announced yet another guilty verdict last week, Russia's most prominent political prisoner was already being attacked in cyberspace.

No, Khodorkovsky's Web site, the main source of news about the trial for many Russians, was not being censored. Rather, it had been targeted by so-called denial-of-service attacks, with most of the site's visitors receiving a "page cannot be found" message in their browsers.

Such attacks are an increasingly popular tool for punishing one's opponents, as evidenced by the recent online campaign against American corporations like Amazon and PayPal for mistreating WikiLeaks. It's nearly impossible to trace the perpetrators; many denial-of-service attacks go underreported, as it's often hard to distinguish them from cases where a Web site has been overwhelmed by a huge number of hits. Although most of the sites eventually get back online, denial-of-service attacks rarely generate as much outrage as formal government attempts to filter information on the Internet.

In the past, repressive regimes have relied on Internet firewalls to block dissidents from spreading forbidden ideas; China has been particularly creative, while countries like Tunisia and Saudi Arabia are never far behind. But the pro-Kremlin cyberattackers who hit Kodorkovsky's Web site may reveal more about the future of Internet control than Beijing's practice of adapting traditional censorship to new technology.

Under the Russian model - what I refer to as "social control" - no formal, direct censorship is necessary. Armies of pro-government netizens - which often include freelancing amateurs and computer-savvy members of pro-Kremlin youth movements - take matters into their own hands and attack Web sites they don't like, making them inaccessible even to users in countries that practice no Internet censorship at all.

Cyberattacks are just one of the growing number of ways in which the Kremlin harnesses its supporters to influence Web content. Most of the country's prime Internet resources are owned by Kremlin-friendly oligarchs and government-controlled companies. These sites rarely hesitate to suspend users or delete blog posts if they cross the line set by the government.

The Kremlin is also aggressively exploiting the Internet to spread propaganda and bolster government popularity, sometimes with comical zeal. Just last summer Vladimir Putin ordered the installation of Web cameras - broadcasting over the Internet in real-time - to monitor progress on new housing projects for victims of the devastating forest fires. This made for great PR - but few journalists inquired whether the victims had computers to witness this noble exercise in transparency (they didn't). Russia's security services and police also profit from digital surveillance, using social networking sites to gather intelligence and gauge the popular mood.

The Kremlin in fact practices very little formal Internet censorship, preferring social control to technological constraints. There is a certain logic to this. Outright censorship hurts its image abroad: Cyberattacks are too ambiguous to make it into most foreign journalists' reports about Russia's worsening media climate. By allowing Kremlin-friendly companies and vigilantes to police the digital commons, the government doesn't have to fret over every critical blog post.

One reason so many foreign observers overlook the Kremlin's harnessing of denial-of-service attacks is that they are used to more blatant measures of Internet control. China's draconian efforts to filter the Internet - characterized by Wired magazine in a 1997 article as the "Great Firewall of China" - harken back to the strict censorship of the airways by Communist governments during the Cold War. Back then it was possible to keep out or at least cut down on the influence of foreign ideas by jamming Western broadcasts. The Internet, however, has proven to be far too amorphous to dominate. So its better to co-opt it as much as possible by enabling private companies and pro-government bloggers to engage in "comment warfare" with the Politburo's foes.

Meanwhile, China itself is quietly adopting many measures practiced in Russia. The Web site of the Norwegian Nobel Committee came under repeated cyberattacks after it gave the 2010 award to the jailed Chinese dissident Liu Xiaobo. Many Chinese government officials are now asked to attend media training sessions and use their skills to help shape online public opinion rather than censor it.

In assessing the U.S. government's Internet freedom policy - announced a year ago by Hillary Clinton - one sees few signs that U.S. diplomats are aware of growing efforts by authoritarian governments to harness social forces to control the Internet. So far, most of Washington's efforts have been aimed at limiting the damage caused by technological control. But even here Washington has a spotty record: Just a few weeks ago the State Department gave an innovation award to Cisco, a company that played a key role in helping China build its firewall.

The eventual disappearance of Internet filtering in much of the world would count as a rather ambiguous achievement if it's replaced by an outburst of cyberattacks, an increase in the state's surveillance power, and an outpouring of insidious government propaganda. Policymakers need to stop viewing Internet control as just an outgrowth of the Cold War-era radio jamming and start paying attention to non-technological threats to online freedom.

Addressing the social dimension of Internet control would require political rather than technological solutions, but this is no good reason to cling to the outdated metaphor of the "Great Firewall."

Evgeny Morozov is a visiting scholar at Stanford University and the author of "The Net Delusion: The Dark Side of Internet Freedom."

The first decade of the 21st century has seen a dramatic reversal of fortune in the relative prestige of different political and economic models. Ten years ago, on the eve of the puncturing of the dotcom bubble, the US held the high ground. Its democracy was widely emulated, if not always loved; its technology was sweeping the world; and lightly regulated "Anglo-Saxon" capitalism was seen as the wave of the future. The United States managed to fritter away that moral capital in remarkably short order: the Iraq war and the close association it created between military invasion and democracy promotion tarnished the latter, while the Wall Street financial crisis laid waste to the idea that markets could be trusted to regulate themselves.

China, by contrast, is on a roll. President Hu Jintao's rare state visit to Washington this week comes at a time when many Chinese see their weathering of the financial crisis as a vindication of their own system, and the beginning of an era in which US-style liberal ideas will no longer be dominant. State-owned enterprises are back in vogue, and were the chosen mechanism through which Beijing administered its massive stimulus. The automatic admiration for all things American that many Chinese once felt has given way to a much more nuanced and critical view of US weaknesses - verging, for some, on contempt. It is thus not surprising that polls suggest far more Chinese think their country is going in the right direction than their American counterparts.

But what is the Chinese model? Many observers casually put it in an "authoritarian capitalist" box, along with Russia, Iran and Singapore. But China's model is sui generis; its ­specific mode of governance is difficult to describe, much less emulate, which is why it is not up for export.

The most important strength of the Chinese political system is its ability to make large, complex decisions quickly, and to make them relatively well, at least in economic policy. This is most evident in the area of infrastructure, where China has put into place airports, dams, high-speed rail, water and electricity systems to feed its growing industrial base. Contrast this with India, where every new investment is subject to blockage by trade unions, lobby groups, peasant associations and courts. India is a law-governed democracy, in which ordinary people can object to government plans; China's rulers can move more than a million people out of the Three Gorges Dam flood plain with little recourse on their part.

Nonetheless, the quality of Chinese government is higher than in Russia, Iran, or the other authoritarian regimes with which it is often lumped - precisely because Chinese rulers feel some degree of accountability towards their population. That accountability is not, of course, procedural; the authority of the Chinese Communist party is limited neither by a rule of law nor by democratic elections. But while its leaders limit public criticism, they do try to stay on top of popular discontents, and shift policy in response. They are most attentive to the urban middle class and powerful business interests that generate employment, but they respond to outrage over egregious cases of corruption or incompetence among lower-level party cadres too.

Indeed, the Chinese government often overreacts to what it believes to be public opinion precisely because, as one diplomat resident in Beijing remarked, there are no institutionalised ways of gauging it, such as elections or free media. Instead of calibrating a sensible working relationship with Japan, for example, China escalated a conflict over the detention of a fishing boat captain last year - seemingly in anticipation of popular anti-Japanese sentiment.

Americans have long hoped China might undergo a democratic transition as it got wealthier, and before it became powerful enough to become a strategic and political threat. This seems unlikely, however. The government knows how to cater to the interests of Chinese elites and the emerging middle classes, and builds on their fear of populism. This is why there is little support for genuine multi-party democracy. The elites worry about the example of democracy in Thailand - where the election of a populist premier led to violent conflict between his supporters and the establishment - as a warning of what could happen to them.

Ironically for a country that still claims to be communist, China has grown far more unequal of late. Many peasants and workers share little in the country's growth, while others are ruthlessly exploited. Corruption is pervasive, which exacerbates existing inequalities. At a local level there are countless instances in which government colludes with developers to take land away from hapless peasants. This has contributed to a pent-up anger that explodes in many thousands of acts of social protest, often violent, each year.

The Communist party seems to think it can deal with the problem of inequality through improved responsiveness on the part of its own hier­archy to popular pressures. China's great historical achievement during the past two millennia has been to create high-quality centralised government, which it does much better than most of its authoritarian peers. Today, it is shifting social spending to the neglected interior, to boost consumption and to stave off a social explosion. I doubt whether its approach will work: any top-down system of accountability faces unsolvable problems of monitoring and responding to what is happening on the ground. Effective accountability can only come about through a bottom-up process, or what we know as democracy. This is not, in my view, likely to emerge soon. However, down the road, in the face of a major economic downturn, or leaders who are less competent or more corrupt, the system's fragile legitimacy could be openly challenged. Democracy's strengths are often most evident in times of adversity.

However, if the democratic, market-oriented model is to prevail, Americans need to own up to their own mistakes and misconceptions. Washington's foreign policy during the past decade was too militarised and unilateral, succeeding only in generating a self-defeating anti-Americanism. In economic policy, Reaganism long outlived its initial successes, producing only budget deficits, thoughtless tax-cutting and inadequate financial regulation.

These problems are to some extent being acknowledged and addressed. But there is a deeper problem with the American model that is nowhere close to being solved. China adapts quickly, making difficult decisions and implementing them effectively. Americans pride themselves on constitutional checks and balances, based on a political culture that distrusts centralised government. This system has ensured individual liberty and a vibrant private sector, but it has now become polarised and ideologically rigid. At present it shows little appetite for dealing with the long-term fiscal challenges the US faces. Democracy in America may have an inherent legitimacy that the Chinese system lacks, but it will not be much of a model to anyone if the government is divided against itself and cannot govern. During the 1989 Tiananmen protests, student demonstrators erected a model of the Statue of Liberty to symbolise their aspirations. Whether anyone in China would do the same at some future date will depend on how Americans address their problems in the present.

The writer is a fellow at the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies at Stanford University. His latest book, The Origins of Political Order, will be published in the spring.