Regarding the pain of others
Susan Sontag
(Hamish Hamilton)
Do images of human suffering make a difference? Are we really shaken into compassion, outrage and protest by atrocity photographs; or are we just voyeurs enjoying a gruesome, quasi-pornographic thrill at “snuff” pictures? To make matters even more complicated, is it ever morally right to acknowledge that such images may be aesthetically beautiful, even if they are truly a “terrible beauty”? One only has to think of the events in New York on September 11 2001: we watched spellbound as the Twin Towers were first struck by hijacked aircraft, caught fire and then crumbled to the ground. By the magic of television, we watched rerun after rerun of the event as if hypnotised. Once the initial disbelief lifted, and as the grief became palpable, we still watched the reruns. For, on one hand, the whole event felt like a disaster movie; on the other, the images that were engraved on our consciousnesses had a terrifyingly beautiful quality that some commentators tried to moderate with words like “surreal”.
Essayist and novelist Susan Sontag attempts to raise these sorts of questions in her new book. In some ways a follow up to her 1977 classic On Photography, she tries to draw out the kinds of questions we faced on 9/11, during the two Gulf wars and throughout the history of suffering that has been captured on photograph and film. It is ironic, she suggests, how differently we respond to non-photographic representations of human pain: we can and do seem able to acknowledge the “terrible beauty” of paintings or drawings by artists like Francisco Goya, yet we shy away from pictures of “engaged” photographers like James Nachtwey, from war footage or indeed from the film and photos of 9/11. Sometimes, usually well after the fact, such a picture might become acknowledged as great art, for example the classic (almost definitive) picture of the Spanish Civil War republican soldier’s moment of death captured by Frank Capa.
The power of photography (and film) is undisputed. The picture makes the event real. This seems ingrained in us, despite the fact that we all know that such technical things as camera angles and the personal choice or perspective of the photographer mean that every picture is in some way or other “set up”. Ironically, once the picture is taken, the intention of the photographer becomes almost meaningless. A horrific shot of dead Palestinian children or a bombed-out Tel Aviv pizza parlour will mean whatever the viewer ultimately chooses to make of it — one may cheer at the destruction of the enemy, rage at the atrocity, or simply claim that the picture is a fake. The claim then that a “committed” photographer or cameraperson can “make a difference” must be treated with a certain amount of scepticism.
For Sontag, one of the issues is whether pictures really represent or generate truth. Here once again we may ask: Whose truth, what truth? The process of taking pictures and seeing pictures is, as we noted above, complex. To make things even trickier, how do we respond to faked pictures, things that were staged? Leaving aside falsifying historical events, consider the famous picture of two kissing lovers in Paris, which reinforced the image of that city as a romantic capital — the picture was staged by photographer Robert Doiseau. Arty, clever, evocative for many, no doubt, of their experience of Paris — but not real in the sense that the photographer “captured” a moment of reality. Yet, if we are honest, this kind of set-up is what artists and sculptors do all the time.
Perhaps the most important, and most difficult, question is whether representation of atrocity actually changes people. Here Sontag is quite sceptical. On one hand pictures have changed popular perceptions — and, indeed, they have created memory. Images of atrocities in Vietnam did perhaps move a significant section of United States public opinion against the war; and the US military learned the lesson for the Gulf wars. Yet, the constant bombardment of horrible images can lead people to switch off too: they may feel powerless, or sickened, or just exhausted. While creating awareness is a good thing there may well be a point of overload.
Similarly, the selection of images creates memory. Pictures that stick in our consciousness define events and create memory. But these are always selected — and the question must always be asked: what is selected and by whom? Sontag points out how, for example, there is no US museum of slavery, but there is a Holocaust museum in Washington DC: memory is selective and often guided by interests. At the same time, she suggests, there may be a point where there is, in a sense, too much memory. Sometimes we need to forget.
In what is a very short text, Sontag challenges us to think about things we’d perhaps rather not consider. Most people do not want to consider death and mortality — and this is precisely the problem with which “regarding the pain of others” confronts us. This may be why we react the way we do — shock at what we see; feeling grossed out and objecting to such images; blocking out what we cannot face; yet, so often, following the images as we guiltily pursue our morbid fascination with mortality. In the end — despite closely examined meditations on the politics, morality and aesthetics of atrocity images — I do not think Sontag reaches a clear answer. (Then, again, this is the kind of text that demands a number of readings). That, I think, is not her fault. I think it’s more about who we are, and the kinds of people we try to be. In raising and examining these uneasy issues, Sontag challenges us to face our mixed feelings about suffering and death. We may not like to do this, but for our good perhaps we should. For which Sontag deserves our critical attention. And our thanks.
The details
Susan Sontag speaks at Wits University on March 10, 11 and 12. Each event is free and open to the public.
On March 10 Sontag will deliver the Nadine Gordimer Lecture in the Wits Great Hall at 5.30pm. This is the first of an annual series of lectures in Gordimer’s honour, organised by the department of English in the school of literature and language studies.
On March 11, in an event hosted by the Wits Writers Series, Sontag and Gordimer will engage in a conversation on literature and writing, at 5.30pm, at the Dorothy Susskind Auditorium, main campus, John Moffat Building.
The third event, on March 12, hosted by the faculty of humanities, will involve Sontag in dialogue with photographers, writers and media specialists on the subject of photography, ethics and politics, at 2pm, at the Dorothy Susskind Auditorium.
For more information, contact Pippa Stein on (011) 717 4167 or [email protected]