 |
| (c) IRC maternal health project |
I
recently covered Untold Stories, a major exhibition of photographs of global
urban refugees and a showcase of their testimonies, produced by the International
Rescue Committee and featuring images taken by photographer Andrew O’Connell. Since
the exhibition closed I’ve been thinking about the placing of these images, in
the sleek, double-plus height, busy spaces of King’s Cross International
Station. It’s either a striking juxtaposition, stopping Paris- and
Brussels-bound travellers and their consciences dead in between eating a cake from Konditor and
Cook, having a salmon platter at Le Pain Quotidien and buying overpriced
disposable fountain pens from Paperchase. Or it’s just more visual wallpaper, another
image from the global ad era, something for the eye to skim over, barely taking
in the words or registering the general purpose – tearjerking international pain
campaign – before getting on a train bound for somewhere more
pleasant.
As
a second generation British Indian, I’ve always baulked at coverage that makes
a show of the suffering of global others. Stricken-eyed orphans, hungry looking
yet still undeniably cute; survivors and victims gazing out balefully, beseechingly,
next to a large-fonted list of bad things that will happen to them if you don’t
sponsor them for three pounds a month; a child just about to drink from a plastic
tub of brownish water; a dazed toddler gazing up from a hospital bed it
wouldn’t need to be in if only the correct vaccines and immunisations had reached it in time. The testimonies are true, as is the scale of each crisis and each issue,
but coverage like this reduces each featured person only to the story of their
suffering. The individual, although they are made an example of, becomes
generic in the telling. The adverts and coverage do not tell us about their
strengths and weaknesses, their likes and dislikes, their family, their
friends, their locality, their ambitions. Instead, the individuals are broken
down into a demeaning, generalized narrative. We know nothing of them but their
pain and are shown nothing of their own drive, their own strength and
resistance. Instead we are invited to feel like the heroic saviours of the
powerless:
The
farmer who can’t grow and sell enough crops for her family.
The
baby who’ll die by the age of 3 if he doesn’t get the right treatment.
The
girl, first name only, trafficked, raped, bought, sold, impregnated, beaten,
abused.
The
boy stitching plimsolls by the side of the road, forced to sleep on the street.
The
girl denied education, doomed to be taken and used for sexual and other manual
labour.
The
family whose nearest hospital is an eight mile walk away.
I
sit on the Tube and cringe: is this what people in this country think of us?
And by us I mean all the non-whites, the former colonised, the far-away,
the different-from-them. It’s humiliating to see one’s own (historic) country
and those of many others represented as backward, violently misogynistic, agonisingly poor, superstitious,
class-ridden, corrupt, intractably problematic, unable to help itself. It’s
embarrassing to think about the way other cultures are so often misrepresented,
in Western art, culture and media, as depraved, eroticised, exoticised, criminal, subjugated, chaotic, oppressed,
self-sabotaging, primitive, violent and more. And it’s easy, being bi- or
multicultural, living in a city as visually diverse and mixed as London (even
if, if you look at who really holds power in all sectors, the image is strongly
un-diverse in terms of sex, race and class), to forget how little people know
of the many different societies beyond their own national borders, how few
people get under the skin of other countries through equal friendship with
others, how few people speak or read other languages. The solicitations, which
are meant well, are targeted at people who often know little about other
countries or cultures except what they have seen on the news, what they are fed
in entertainment-industry films and novels or simply what they have heard in
the air – a mixture of myths, fantasies, suppositions and stereotypes which are
insulting at worst and limiting at best. The adverts and campaigns often
replace people’s ignorance with extreme, galling patronage. We are invited to
feel for survivors and victims but not feel outraged, as we should, about the
deliberate actions of the perpetrators or the extreme injustice and
exploitation which underlie inequality. The help the adverts elicit is
accompanied by a sense of personal smugness and cultural superiority. Yet the
only way you can understand a culture and drop your own sense of superiority is
to participate in it fully and as an equal, not a patron, exploiter, client or
dominator.
It’s
also easy to point to finger at other nations’ problems without recognizing that many of those same problems are strongly prevalent within the UK too and
that the prejudices and inequalities which keep them in place are
common across seemingly different cultures. Gender prejudice, gender violence,
racial prejudice, racial violence, class prejudice, class violence; these are
present to a greater or lesser degree in all cultures regardless of the
predominant colour, religion or language of the majority of the people. The terrible
consequences, in terms of opportunity, treatment and advantage, as a result of
the gap between richer and poorer; the scale of sexual violence including
endemic harassment, sexual exploitation and the consequent ignoring or denying of
victims and excusal of perpetrators; endemic levels of women killed by current
or ex partners; trafficking; labour exploitation, low pay, unstable employment
and inequality; problems of hunger; problems of housing; problems of literacy. These
are all issues here in the UK, as elsewhere.
And
so, in the morass of pain, suffering and need, we return to the power of
individual testimonies, specific case studies and concrete examples as a way of
making issues which are so widescale as to be overwhelming feel real at last.
Humanity needs to put names and faces to social problems; we need to attach a
story to an issue; we need to be convinced emotionally and not just factually.
And so there’s testimony after testimony, home-made video after witness
photograph exhibition, statements, confessionals, documentaries, archives. It’s
only through putting a human face onto inhumane circumstances and treatment,
adding flesh and blood to advocacy and arguments, that grassroots change really
happens.
There
are many obstacles. In the case of sexual violence in particular there is widespread and tragic denial of the
existence, reality and scale of the issue; the disbelieving, denial, punishment
and ostracisation of victims; leniency, excusal and condoning of perpetrators;
and a denial about the way entire cultures collude across the board in the undermining
and sexual objectification of women and girls, from our extreme
under-representation as speakers, leaders and experts in all areas of powerful
public life to our over-representation as silent objects used to sell consumer
goods from yoghurts to shampoos and the way our bodies are used, bought, sold
and bartered as sources of sexual, domestic and other labour for others’
benefit; and so on and so forth, as I’ve written in a million articles a
million times. Even when survivors of sexual violence are believed, people have
a hard time facing the reality of the scale of the problem, the truth of the
situation and its systematic, entrenched, values-based origins. They prefer to recast
sexual violence as either a tragic anomaly; an inevitable consequence of war
which will never change; or a private, ambiguous, personal, shadowy, domestic
matter whose mysterious truth none can fathom. At the heart of all this is an
absolute inability to face the reality of what perpetrators choose to do, how
many of them there are, how common it is, and what that says about how much and
how violently women are hated. For more on the most extreme and distressing examples
of this, with a trigger warning, look at
Women Under Siege.
Sometimes
the resistance comes down to cultural prejudice – a feeling of not
understanding and not wanting to interfere or get involved with a society which
is seen wrongly as ‘other’, subject to its own laws and logic, somehow
different and therefore inscrutable. And equally there is a laudable desire not
to patronise. Over the last few years, as I’ve been working and writing a lot
on the Middle Eastern revolutions, meeting countless female activists who have
worked for changed for years, who lead demonstrations and organisations. They
bemoan the western media’s obsession with the oppression of Arab women, veiling
and not veiling, sexual assault and sexual harassment, as though these latter
two issues are not totally endemic in the UK as well as in the Middle East,
Latin America, Europe, Northern America, India and wherever else you look. The
problems of the world seem to hide in open view, supported by our prejudices,
our willful blindness, our excusal of perpetrators and our deep denial.
Sometimes
resistance to global appeals comes down to simple apathy, selfishness,
insularity or outright pessimism. People do not use their power for change,
because they are convinced of their powerlessness. They think an enterprise is
doomed to fail before it has begun, and so they doom it to fail with their own
unwillingness, tepid support and lacklustre participation.
Yet
this pessimism is misplaced. The problems of the world have not arisen by magic
or by chance and are not kept in place by magic or chance. They are specific
problems which can be solved in specific ways. Those who benefit from
inequality, injustice and exploitation rely on the apathy of bystanders. To
laugh cynically at the large scale of the problems identified for solution is
to behave as though the world can only change for the worse, not the better.
During the course of the year, as part of my International Reporting Project
fellowship, run by Johns Hopkins University and funded by the Bill and Melinda
Gates Foundation, I will be focusing on issues in support of the
MillenniumDevelopment Goals for 2015. These are:
- To
end poverty and hunger
- Universal
education
- Gender
equality
- Child
Health
- Maternal
health
- Combating
HIV/AIDS
- Environmental
sustainability
- Global
partnership
Do
I believe that it’s possible to save the world? Yes. If it can transform
negatively it can transform positively. This requires believing survivors, fighting perpetrators,
challenging preconceptions, changing society, educating the very young,
supporting the weak, breaking the dominators, investing money, creating lasting
infrastructures and forming organisations which are structurally and ideologically
different from those created by exploiters and power-holders. To say the world
cannot be saved is to give the bad guys a free pass to do exactly what they
want, to make a mockery of others’ constructive efforts and to deny one’s own
power to influence events. I believe that something good is better than nothing
good, that speaking up is better than staying silent to protect perpetrators
and that a tidal wave of change starts with the smallest ripple.
There
are millions of people in the world – usually, those who have relatively little
themselves – who are working and have been working tirelessly for years to
transform the lives of people in their own communities. Although they are assisted
by the same organisation, they do not get exhibitions in King’s Cross, major funding for their
beautiful photographs or international coverage which boosts their career,
enables lots more exciting international travel and promises a strong culturally
legacy once their working days are done. They are not hailed as intrepid,
globe-trotting heroes bearing witness, constructing powerful testimony,
standing up for human rights. They
have no names, or rather no cultural Name. But here they are:
- The
village women in the South Kivu province in the Democratic Republic of Congo
forming groups called village savings and loan associations (VSLAs). The women
members put their small household earnings toward the group’s broader goals.
When there’s enough cash
in the box, a member can take out a loan to start her own business — like a
tailoring shop, the purchase of a small plot of land to farm and raise animals.
When the business makes money she begins to repay that loan back into the cash
box to fund another woman’s ideas.
- The 30 new health
facilities and 2,500 newly trained community health workers supported by the
IRC in South Sudan, where the country’s decades long civil war has left the
region without a functioning
healthcare system and few trained medical personnel. Currently, more than 2,000
out of every 100,000 pregnant women in the new nation die during childbirth.
- The necessity of
bringing healthcare closer to
remote communities by enabling trained community health workers to travel with
families as they migrate. For example in Turkana, Kenya, is one of the world’s
poorest regions, frequent droughts have left inhabitants dependent on food aid.
Malnutrition rates are estimated to be around 22 per cent, leaving children too
weak to fight off illness. Consequently, many children die from preventable or
treatable illnesses such as fever, malaria and diarrhoea. With about 80%of
people being nomadic, many families find accessing healthcare difficult due to
their mobile lifestyle. These problems are compounded by a severe shortage of
facilities and qualified health professionals.
- The strengthening
of strained healthcare facilities in Syria’s neighbouring countries, like the 2
new health centres in the cities of Ramtha and Mafraq in Jordan, to help the
million-plus people fleeing the violence in Syria. As IRC emergency response
coordinator Tom McNelly explains, “These people crossed the border with nothing
but their clothes. They have no money to pay for treatment or medicine - and we
supply both, at no cost to them.”
Related articles:
