Death, as viewed through a lens
NS January 15th, 2010
Do we really need to see photos of dead bodies in Haiti?
No, I mean it. Do we really need to see them to make us understand what’s going on there, how much devastation and human suffering are flowing through the broken, dusty streets? Do we need to see a dead schoolgirl crushed by concrete at her desk? Do we need to see a grieving, wailing father holding his dead child in his arms? Do we need to see bloody arms and footless shoes and a mother with her arms raised up into the air, knowing that at that exact moment her heart was being ripped from her chest, put through the wringer of tragedy and returned to her, broken and forever shadowed by her loss?
But now, particularly since I’ve had children, I find looking at photos like the one above, from the New York Daily News, very difficult and almost voyeuristic. Who am I that I should be seeing this man’s face as he holds his dead child to his chest? Then again, who am I to protest that I don’t want to see it?
If we’d just read the headlines, with no photos, would we care as much? If we hadn’t seen the faces of the people who survived, those who are homeless and injured and searching for missing loved ones, would we be digging into our pockets to give them whatever money we are able to?
I’m divided on this issue. As a journalism student at university, I sat through many an ethics lecture. I even took an entire class devoted to the ethics of covering tragedies and natural disasters. Every time we debated a controversial photo, the room was divided: half of us thought it was unethical, gratuitous, unnecessary, sensationalist; the other half thought they were a necessary, often useful evil. What better way to get people’s attention and make them understand what’s happening than to let the images do the talking? Why write three pages trying to describe the devastation when one picture says it all? Isn’t it a journalist’s responsibility to fully report and visually convey the situation they’re covering?
I used to think it was. I was in the latter group, the ones who, though saddened and disturbed by some of the more graphic photos, found they helped the public more fully understand the situation and emotionally connect to the subjects. Especially in incidents where survivors need help and donations, using photos to convey the urgency of the situation is appealing. And it works. Studies have shown that people give more when they are confronted with images of human suffering; they just aren’t as interested if what they’re presented with is an abstract thought, a far-away problem in some far-away place.
But that still begs the question: is it ethical? Is it right to put human suffering in all its raw immediacy on the front page, especially when a newspaper is making a profit from the sales of that image? Does it disgrace and dishonour those whom it portrays? Or does it tell the stories of those in the photos; let everyone know that they are there — hurting, bleeding, grieving, dying…but there?
I’m still not sure. My journalism roots say we need to see this, we need to care. But then I find myself, in the last few days of doing my day job (in which I have to look at dozens of newspapers’ front pages), doing my work with tears streaming down my face and my stomach churning. Another foot. Another arm. Another parent’s child, crushed by chaos. Another man’s struggle to clear debris while looking for his wife or sister, furiously digging with his bare hands, looking for a scrap of clothing or an inch of flesh that he recognises.
This is death, as viewed through a lens. Should we put the cap back on it and leave those mourning in Haiti their privacy, or should we continue to stare down the tragedy telescope in the hopes that it convinces others to donate?
What are your thoughts?
