Exploiting the Poor Through the Images We Use? (PART 2)

Visual representations of the poor have the power to evoke visceral reactions which can be harnessed toward positive development outcomes.  At the same time, those who use these images run the risk of exploiting the very same people whom they seek to help. 

A comment to a previous post on this topic captures the trade-off rather well:

"… human strife is whittled down to a spectacle that often furthers cultural and economic divides when they should be bridging them.  However, as visual representations can be an extremely effective way of communicating, we really cannot do away with them… one can only approximate the ideal of a just and compelling representation."

Another comment makes a similar point:

"While constant depictions of the poor at their worst can have the unintended consequence of negatively impacting the public's perceptions of poverty, the opposite is also true. Not showing poverty as it really is allows those in a position to help to believe that the plight of the less fortunate 'isn't so bad' so why should they help. Images of life in the inner city in developed countries - where the poor are sometimes depicted as happily coping with their lot - have had this effect."

So although there may be serious costs to using images of extreme poverty, it seems we can’t do without them.  However, I think it would be naïve to surmise that the solution is simply striking a balance between honestly rendering the world's injustices, on one hand, and representing dignity amidst adversity, on the other.  As is true for most emotionally charged ethical issues, the “on the one hand, on the other” approach often leads to analysis paralysis or results in tepid responses. 

Seeking to understand why problems persist in the real world is usually a helpful way to spur ourselves forward.  For instance, why do these distasteful images abound?  Well, one answer could be that journalists are socialized to be on the constant lookout for situations that might produce evocative pictures – perhaps because these sell media products and advance careers.  As described in a piece from the early 1990s by Rakiya Omaar and Alex de Waal:

"Somali doctors and nurses have expressed shock at the conduct of film crews in hospitals. They rush through crowded corridors, leaping over stretchers, dashing to film the agony before it passes. They hold bedside vigils to record the moment of death. When the Italian actress Sophia Loren visited Somalia, the paparazzi trampled on children as they scrambled to film her feeding a little girl-three times. This is disaster pornography."

Journalists and media professionals are not exceptional in this regard.  Last week, William Easterly blogged about how aid and disaster relief organizations engage in similar behavior:

"The aid groups Save the Children and Medair have canvassed the Akobo community over the last week, searching for the hungriest children.

And surprise: you get the most horrific images possible of starving children, to be featured prominently on the Huffington Post, which reinforces the Western stereotype of “famine Africa.”
 

Is this really necessary?  For those of us who deeply dislike what the authors above have called “poverty porn”, “disaster pornography”, or “stereotype porn”, must we, in the end, simply tolerate these kinds of images (as long as they're genuine depictions) and take the rather weak position that they must be balanced off with pictures that represent human dignity and empowerment?  Some evidence suggests it’s not about balance at all.  Last week, Andrew Sullivan quoted this portion of the Omaar and de Waal piece cited above:

"The most respectable excuse for selectively presenting images of starvation is that this is necessary to elicit our charity. But famine relief experts concur that the total impact of our charitable giving is less than what can be achieved if the stricken people are enabled to help themselves."

If this is right, it’s less about balance and more about emphasis – in the direction of favoring images that depict and help build capacity and efficacy at the local level.  We should, therefore, whenever possible, use images that influence opinion, attitude, and behavior change toward these ends.  Of course, the process of producing and selecting these images should be audience and context specific -- but we can probably agree that poverty porn should be the rare exception to the rule.  Another thing we can do is to keep alive dialogue and debate on this topic and slowly replace the social norms, fundraising practices, and journalistic work routines that make poverty porn appear so lucrative and rewarding.

Photo credit: Flickr user Pratham Books