After a long summer break REP is back. In the last few months I have been working with a local photographer here in Nepal on a piece of multi-media story telling for the International Day of the Disappeared (30 August) – watch this space. Lourdes is currently in Lebanon and will no doubt come back with lots of goodies to share.
To get things started again I recommend this essay by Sam Gregory, Program Director at WITNESS. It looks at issues of safety, security and consent in a world where video can be shot, viewed and re-packaged by anyone. You can see the video presentation looking at the same issues here.
The controversial film by the Dutch artist Renzo Martens, ‘Episode 3 – ‘Enjoy Poverty’ (2009, 90 min), will be screened at the Tate Modern, London, on 2nd June at 18.30.
In this documentary-style film, Martens investigates the representation of Congolese poverty. Throughout the film he mocks the way the Western world exploits poverty in Africa. Essentially, Martens’ concerns are the journalists, photographers and charity workers using the Congolese for their own ends. He travels around the Congo and presents these issues to the Congolese people, telling them how their poverty is a resource that the West exploits to make money and to make themselves feel good.
Renzo Martens explores “the contradictions of humanitarianism, photojournalism, and concerned contemporary art”. He will also exposes, sometimes in a very uneasy way, the relation of power between those who watch and those who are being watched.
The film which asks ‘who owns poverty?’ and examines the ethics and economics surrounding images of post-colonial suffering is not without contradiction. By the end you will wonder what Martens really wanted to achieve or whether he is not as complicit as the ones he mocks?
Surely, material for discussion.
Following the screening, Martens will be joined in conversation by T.J. Demosand Tamar Garb, both of UCL’s Department of Art History.
It is rare to come across any detailed analysis of the use of images in social activism, let alone an organisation publishing its own internal research. So, this report by UNICEF – ‘Images of girls and girls’ education: Reviewing and Rethinking‘ makes interesting reading.
Published in March 2009, it presents research conducted over six months with focus groups who viewed 16 images depicting girls in education. The research targeted relevant stakeholders for participation in the focus groups. The results illustrate this selection (demonstrating their expose to the development sector), and it would have been interesting to include participants from outside this field, and more people from the countries photographed.
The report makes interesting reading, not least because of the recognition expressed that single images often fail to show the complexities of situations being presented. As such the recommendation to produce more ‘photo essays’ is welcome.
I was at the British Embassy in Kathmandu a couple of weeks back to attend a gathering on enforced disappearances. The event marked the 6th anniversary of the killing a 15-year-old girl, Maina Sunuwar, in 2004 by the Nepal Army. The main draw was the première of a short film entitled, ‘Awaiting Justice‘ (presented as ‘Nyay Kahile?’ in Nepali, which literally translates as ‘Justice When?’). The film documents a visit in December 2009 by nine top diplomats to Bardiya District where a high number of people were ‘disappeared’ during Nepal’s decade long conflict (1996-2006).
I was looking forward to seeing the film, but the title had already begun to raise questions in my mind. I tend not to be a pedant when it comes to language, but I have seen such passive terminology far too often when referring to rights holders in Nepal. ‘Waiting’ is a term that is unfortunately reflected in the way many of the individuals are represented, not least by the human rights movement.
Since the end of the conflict there has been a concerted push by human rights organisations, both national and international, as well as some embassies and the UN (particularly OHCHR – Nepal), for investigations and prosecutions into past abuses. This has mainly focussed on case documentation and political lobbying via legal argumentation. Despite this there are those of the opinion that survivors and the families of those ‘disappeared’ or unlawfully killed have been, up until recently, marginal voices in this campaign, with their priorities given less prominence in the face of the more powerful international ‘human rights project‘. Some would even say that the families agenda has been deliberately distorted to fit that of the international community. A cynical analysis would be that this agenda centres on furthering international human rights law through work in politically weak and conflict damaged countries, with an emphasis on ‘putting people in prison‘ rather than delivering to the wishes of those who suffered most (which tends to centre on material and emotional relief). Not that justice isn’t a good thing, it just raises the question of who all this effort is actually for? If in reality things are far more complex than the cynics may have you believe, this is not to say there is not an element of truth here. There are certainly legitimate questions to be asked about the independence of some CBOs in Nepal, and whether undue influence is exerted on them to be ‘on message’ with the bigger agencies controlling the agenda and funding. What interests me most though is how this plays out strategically and representationally?
Few resources and time appear to have gone into growing the public profile of the CBOs and winning arguments amongst the public to mobilise support. The ‘legal-first’ strategy that is pushed so hard by the various human rights agencies is making slow progress exactly because it is not duel tracked with a wider communication strategy that seeks to garner support beyond a narrow constituency of human rights activists and lawyers. Documentation of cases and legal arguments saturate the landscape, with a war of words occupying what small amount of media space is given over to these issues. Almost forgotten are the lives of those who live on. When we do hear from them it is usually to recount, once again, the painful episode that took their loved ones away from them (‘the case’).
The embassy film thus takes a now predictable format – a parade of ‘cases’, narrowly defining the individuals in the context of the abuse rather than as complex and dynamic people. This is particularly evident in the main segment of the film where the diplomats are petitioned by a group of people who lost relatives or were themselves tortured. The decision to include so much of the meeting is questionable as it fails to engage after a short time. Not that the testimonies are boring or unmoving. What they are is contextually adrift in a barren meeting hall, where embassy staff sit silently as if holding court before their 4×4 convoy returns them to Kathmandu. There is no attempt to break down the empathic gap between the audience and people featured. More surprisingly, there is almost no explanation about why the diplomats made the trip to Bardiya, possibly underlining the exclusive nature of the product (i.e. it is for those who know rather than to info those who don’t). I am also unable to tell you what the film is for or how it will be used.
This is not a criticism of the international community in Nepal, they do good work – and this initiative may turn out to be well placed. The criticism is this – firstly, if you are to spend time and money on visual media then a lot more thought is needed than appears to have gone into this production, that even at 10mins failed to engage me or generate empathy due to its narrow passive ‘victimisation’ of those it represents. The second criticism, and the more important as it goes beyond one short film, is why such representations persist (when there are obvious alternatives) and whether they expose a dynamic between the rights holders and those agencies who take a ‘for the community’ rather than a ‘with the community‘ strategy?
It is strange that despite the involvement of the self organised community based organisation – Conflict Victims Committee – there is no representation in the film of the substantial work they have done in campaigning for justice. In fact I have not come across one substantial piece of visual media that looks at these CBOs in Nepal (though that doesn’t mean such work isn’t out there).
Of course, it is unrealistic to expect embassies to be masters of visual communications, and the fact that they even thought about filming their initiative (which was mainly symbolic – the abuses are already well documented) is positive. But such agents need to realise that winning the legal arguments is only half the battle. Failure to generate a ground swell of public solidarity with those who fight for justice and reparations will at the very least hamper progress, at worst make you irrelevant.
A more thoughtful approach is taken in the 2009 International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) film, unfortunately with an equally passive sounding title, ‘The Wait Continues‘. The film narrows its focus on one incident where 17 workers from Jogimara were reported killed whilst working at an airport construction site in Kalikot.
The film is a more considered affair than ‘Awaiting Justice’, where the audience is firmly placed in the context of the 15 families who lost their sons. They are interviewed in their village and homes. We see them going about their daily lives. Yet it is what the family members recount that is most notable. Rather than presenting details of ‘the case’ (we learn only the basic facts of what happened) they tell us about their hopes and fears, their doubts and ways of coping. A particular poignant moment is when one man relates how his neighbour has moved away to escape the memories of his son. But asks, ‘What will he do with his son’s plate, and the glass he drunk from?’ immediately summoning a human universal of the memories evoked in us by objects used by the ones we love.
Towards the end of the film ICRC reps walk into the village. This is probably the most awkward moment throughout and draws attention to the fact the focus is on a community that has found it difficult to represent itself effectively (though it does note that others have). It is an all too familiar image – the human rights /UN worker who comes to the village to ‘extract’ research information, maybe never to return, leaving the interviewees disheartened and suspicious of their intentions. This cannot be a direct criticism of the film itself, which is well made, or ICRC for that matter, but does highlight the lack of visual media that presents the pro-active, self organisation of many families across the country to fight (rather than ‘wait’) for reparations, truth and justice. The ICRC documentary is complimented by a set of decent stills by K.Kayastha that begin to scratch a surface that could do with a bit more scratching.
Raj Kumari Gurung lost both her brothers-in-law. Their mother, Moti Maya Gurung is convinced one day they will return. Copyright ICRC / K.Kayastha
The ‘legal-first’ singular track has produced a stack of reports. Much could have been done to wed these with a visual advocacy strategy – much in the way OSI has done in recent times. A couple of reports illustrate a lost opportunities. The ‘waiting‘ continues in two reports by the Nepalese human rights organisation Advocacy Forum (AF) and US based NGO, Human Rights Watch (HRW). AF is an excellent organisation, and I have worked with them in the past. However, a strategic shift in the representation of survivors and rights holders would be a positive step.
Two reports – ‘Waiting for Justice‘ and ‘Still Waiting for Justice‘ – present excellent documentation on over 60 cases of ‘unpunished crimes from Nepal’s Armed Conflict‘. In many instances AF has fought hard for these cases to be investigated by the police, despite obstruction. However, once more we enter the territory of passive victims, illustrated in the first report by the widely used (and rather tired in my opinion) photographic technique of representing ‘disappearances’ by having family members hold up photos of those that are missing (in the second report photos are abandoned except for the cover, which incidentally is one of mine – where at least we see the family members out on the streets protesting).
What surprises more is that HRW did not do more to improve the visual representation. Over the last couple of years to their credit they have done much to adopt more visual tools in their work, particularly on their website.
Other examples are the reports by OHCHR-Nepal on abuses in the Maharajgung army barracks and in Bardiya district. The Maharajgung report does not feature any photos at all. A glossy summary version of the Bardiya report (the original version having almost sunk without trace on it launch) contains eight un-captioned colour photos – with none of the photos being self explanatory enough to stand alone. This disappoints all the more because UN agencies, including OHCHR themselves with their work on prison conditions in Nepal, have grasped the value of visual media in providing context and building understanding in the wider population. I covered this here.
It is obvious from such laudable initiatives, such as A People’s War trilogy, that with some effort and thought a more diverse and nuanced representation can be produced. The thing the project did best was invest in a time scale that allowed the people pictured to become rounded individuals to the viewer. Through the follow-up book, and last in the trilogy, ‘People After War‘, we are able to travel along a narrative that leads the reader away from a black and white reading of events and people. The exhibition that travelled across the country drew huge crowds (allegedly 350,000), with some of their thoughts recorded in the second book in the trilogy, ‘Never Again‘. Six thousand copies of ‘A People War‘ were distributed to schools and libraries for free. So, why did one publisher decide it was necessary to have such a public debate on these issues, but not one human rights agency has come close to producing an initiative that stimulates such a public interaction?
Obviously, an argument can be made that all these representations differ due to the agents responsible for them, their objectives , expertise and the time available to produce them. This is a fair point – as it is fair to say that factually people are ‘waiting’ due to the state being the agent to deliver some of the things they want. But what ever your appraisal of these different approaches it is hard to deny that what is lacking is a substantial participatory communication approach that puts the power of representation in the hands of the families and survivors (at the very least this would enhance historic documentation). This may open up more space to discuss some of the issues of social exclusion that lead to the violations in the first place and remain un-resolved. A coherent communication strategy that looks to engage with a wider public audience in Nepal in order to increase pressure on political actors wouldn’t go a miss either.
These would not only go some way to addressing criticism that families lack control over how they are represented, and how their priorities are not accurately portrayed by the mainstream human rights community. It could also begin to break down societal barriers that currently block the establishment of a wider debate and recognition of the injustice that is being perpetuated. Whether participatory or not, a venture that focussed more on ‘campaigning‘ rather than ‘waiting‘ would be a good start.
Examples from other countries should inform those working in this sector in Nepal of what is possible. From a professional point of view the work of Paula Allen with the women of Calama in Chile stands out as a committed and long term approach. Marcelo Brodsky’s work ‘Buena Memoria‘ from Argentina provides an inclusive and personal documentation and memorial to those who were ‘disappeared’ from his school (watch the video for the event held to remember those who were killed). Omar D’s work on ‘disappearances’ in Algeria, ‘Devoir de memoire/A Biography of Disappearance, Algeria 1992-, commissioned and edited by Autograph ABP, is also worth noting. As is the discussed at an LSE conference on ‘disappearances’ in Algeria in 2008, raising the question;
‘How we can disseminate the truth about events that are officially denied or obfuscated by the legal system, how to lobby for the application of UN resolutions on forced disappearances and whether human rights organisations can overcome post-colonial and economic interests. Can imagery be more potent than text in bringing human rights issues into public knowledge? Can we talk of a politics of aesthetics in the context of subjects who have been stripped of their civil existence? How can the invisible be made visible?
To watch a video introduction to the LSE event click here.
Displaying the portraits of the disappeared in October Square in Minsk. From 'Existence Denied' by ICAED.
Also worth checking out is the ‘Existence Denied‘ book produced by the International Coalition of Enforced Disappearances (ICAED) that pulls together a series of stills from around the world that illustrate the emotional impact of those whose loved ones have been disappeared, as well as the activism they themselves have initiated to find out what happened and bring perpetrators to book.
'Angels on the march against disappearances in El Salvador. From 'Existence Denied' by ICAED.
Agencies can also explore the value of participatory photography as a tool for communication within and across communities, for understanding and reconciliation, but also for historical documentation. Not that such methodology is without its faults, but as I discussed in this post it lends itself to just this situation. A good example is the TAFOS (social photographic workshops) project in Peru which took place in the context of political violence, extreme poverty and lack of political representation – a situation similar to Nepal’s.
Much of the value of the project is encapsulated in this quote, which I will leave you with;
… “TAFOS was a project of visual inclusion, with pictures that, in its character of a documentary mirror, made visible the invisible and took risks for a country still alive. Their pictures show us a country struggling for respect and recognition of basic rights for its people; a country in the process of consolidation and transformation that, however, still enjoys life; summing up, a country with a clear bet for life and change”.
Huarcaya, Roberto. Hacer visible lo invisible. In: País de Luz. Talleres de Fotografía Social, TAFOS. Perú: 1986-1998. Lima-Peru: Pastor y Müller, 2006. p. 44-47 (English Translation).
Based on the ‘50 People 1 Question‘ project ‘What makes you happy?’ consists of a series of short video clips asking the question to young adults from Rwanda. What I like about it is that it focusses on the universalities of human experience rather than the differences. It is anthropologically curious without looking for the exotic. It is touching without evoking pity or sadness.
This may seem a million miles away from the approach of social activism, that usually focusses on extremes of difference – the unimaginable. But how much closer do you feel to these people when you realise what you share, compared to being presented with the extremes of human cruelty and dispare without any humanising or common linkages? This is not to say we should be ignoring the bad things that go down in this world, we shouldn’t. But if you want me to really appreciate those bad things you need to bring me closer, and if I can feel the similarities in my life with those impacted then that is one step closer to me doing something.
Paul Close's photographic project 'The Snakebox Odyssey' asked a simple question, 'Is there one thing that could make your life better?' and in doing so was one of the most creative uses of photography I came across this year.
I know, I know, its a bit of a headline title but as this article rounds of one year dedicated to looking at the use of photography, video and all that other visual stuff used in social activism I thought it appropriate to end with a grand claim. But to be honest with you I can’t answer the question of ‘How NGOs should be using photos and video in social activism‘. Not that you needed telling that because, as regular readers will know this just takes us back to all that ‘does dieting work‘ absurdity. The other reason is, despite having looked at hundreds of examples of visuals put into the service of social activism, I feel that the answer will always be evolving. This is particularly the case at present with the explosion of possibilities offered by the digital revolution and Web 2.0. We are like frontiers men in new territory (minus the genocide of indigenous people that is, unless that is photographic film…hmmm probabaly wise to leave this metaphor alone).
Activists demonstrating in support of a photography exhibition "Into Exile: Tibet 1949 - 2009" at the Drik Gallery in Dhaka. Drik came under tremendous pressure to close down the photographic exhibition from both the Chinese Embassy and officers from the Bangladesh Police Special Branch. This was one of the most powerful reminders of both the power of images and governments desire to censor.
I started The Rights Exposure Project blog in February 2009 in an attempt to answer two questions. One of them is;
‘How can I use visual media better in my work as a human rights campaigner?’
Eight years working at Amnesty International in London is enough for me to say with some authority that both personally and as an organisation we are not using visual media as well as we could. I do not mean that we are not using enough photos and video (though sometimes we do not), or that they are not of an adequate quality (though sometimes they are not), but that we have failed to recognise the true power of these media as a tool to increase the impact of our work. We are effectively tying one arm behind our backs. Our one good arm (the most widely staffed and funded) remains the tried and tested research that Amnesty International is known for. Presented as written reports, the organisation must bang out around one hundred of these every year (a quick search on the Amnesty library turns up 119 written reports verses 13 audio-visual products in 2009), year after year, sending them off to governments, business leaders, academics, NGOs and the media. These are accompanied by numerous press releases and briefing papers. All good stuff, a veritable production line of evidence documenting human rights abuses across the globe delivered directly to those with the power to make the required changes, assuming there is the necessary political will.
Will we ever see Green Dam girl represent Amnesty International research?
OK, I admit to being a bit bored today so excuse my venom. However, this promo has got to rank in at least the top 5 worst videos for social activism I have seen this year, and I have seen a lot of tosh.
Nuru claims to be ‘doing development differently’. Now, development is not my field, and I am not questioning their motivations or even whether they have positive impact, but a quick look at their site shows that they do what most international development NGOs do – community participatory projects. Anyway, that isn’t the point. The point is how bad the video is. It goes a bit like this…
Guy in US military sees how crap the world is whilst on various tours of duty – cue various shots of the ‘terrible Third World’ (plus a bit of ‘terrorism’ in the First World) in super fast edit accompanied by the type of metal that US soldiers listen to in their Hummers. Marine(?) has an epiphany in Iraq and sets up his own NGO. The world is getting better, cue happy people and music . The End.
This video manages to squeeze in overtly negative imagery, using what has been termed the ‘shock effect‘ that looks to stimulate so-called ‘grand emotion‘, firing ‘pity‘ and ‘indignation‘ to create activism. It then goes to the other extreme and blasts us with overtly positive imagery (when the NGO arrive), firing ‘empathy‘ and ‘gratitude‘, in the ‘commodification of solidarity‘. In doing so it suppresses the complex dimensions of development and thus distorts the limits of such interventions.
Too harsh? Maybe. After all it is just a promo video, and these tend to be the most easy to criticise. But personally speaking the world I see, sitting in one of the Least Developed Countries, is not like this. I think we would all be better off with a far more nuanced and realistic picture of the world. But maybe the guys at Nuru have it right, maybe an MTV style approach is what is needed to get through to their target audience? The trouble with looking at audiences in this way (pitching at what they know) is that we never move on to a more informed way of looking at the world, and that is a pity.
For more on humanitarian communication I recommend ‘Post humanitarianism: Humanitarian communication beyond a politics of pity’ by Prof. Lilie Chouliaraki at the LSE / POLIS (UK).
This image from the hilarious US spoof news site, The Onion, has come to my attention twice in 24 hrs. First, it crashed the Open-I webinar I was attending on Advocacy Photojournalism & Human Rights. Then I noticed it on the blog(Notes On) Politics, Theory and Photography.
It is a well known fact that innocent people are convicted of crimes they did not commit. This flaw in all criminal justice systems is one of the most compelling arguments for the abolition of the death penalty. Although there are examples of such miscarriages of justice around the world the USA tends to present some of the most compelling. As 10 October marked World Day Against the Death Penalty I was interested to see this short talk by photographer Taryn Simon on her 2005 work ‘The Innocents‘.
The first half of the talk focusses on Simon’s latest work entitled ‘An American Index of the Hidden and Unfamiliar’ which is worth watching in itself. ‘The Innocents’ that follows is a series of photographs of men convicted of violent crimes they did not commit, many receiving a death sentence. The photos locate the men either at the scene of the crime, the location of their alibi, or the place of their arrest.
Not only does the series highlight the frailty of our memories and the problems with witness identification, but also the challenges of the policy using photography in their work to identify criminals.
Some admirable short films make up the winners of the Ctrl+Alt+Shift film competition. Of particular note are ‘War School‘ and ‘No Way Through‘ (below) that use the technique of placing the violation in the audience’s world (if you live in the UK that is). I think this can be used just as powerfully in ‘constructed‘ still images, and wonder why it is not used more? I like it as it tries to tackle the gap between the audience’s world and that of the so-called ‘distant other‘ we can so readily ignore, even though we may extend our pity (geez, got to stop reading that academic stuff!).
Anyway, for me the power of visual media is its ability to try to bridge that gap, to get us to see others within our circle of concern, produce empathy, and so to extend our assistance.
This innate human capacity was discussed in some depth by Professor Conor Gearty, ex-Director the the LSE Centre for the Study of Human Rights, in a lecture in May 2009, where he links Darwinism and human rights. Interesting stuff (plus he is very funny). In short Gearty focusses on reciprocal altruism, and how this works to extend our compassion to those at a distance as well as our immediate ‘clan‘. This can produce both great acts of humanity and atrocities, depending on whether we extend or close the circle of who we help. I particularly love his focus on what human rights mean as feelings and acts rather than laws and treaties, again pointing to the vital role visual media can play in the human rights movement with its power to touch us deeply.
Congratulations to Alexandra Monro & Sheila Menon for ‘No Way Through‘, and Ben Newman for ‘War School‘.
As yet another aside, you may wish to compare the above videos with this ad made by Amnesty International UK. This reverses the technique and puts the audience in the world of the ‘distant other‘. The implication being that the acts of individuals who are distant can have an impact on others’ lives. Whether this is disingenuous, even as a metaphor, is up for debate. A more interesting point is how the individuals are depicted as an outside intervening force to predominantly helpless people who seem rather irrelevant to the whole process, or at least don’t get much focus. Couldn’t each ‘saviour’ have been depicted with the person they ‘rescued’ rather than alone? Or could we have seen acts where individuals from (in this case the UK) joined others in protest or action, rather than them being passive?
