It’s been said that a picture tells a thousand words. But what does the image do for those on the receiving end of those thousand words?
The media has been flooded with stories about images lately. First, there were the photographs of the coffins draped with American flags and filled with the bodies of American soldiers killed in combat in Iraq. Then, last week, the world saw the painful phographs of Iraqi prisoners at the hands of American soldiers (and rest assured that there will almost certainly be more photographs where those came from in the coming weeks). And yesterday, when the Justice Department announced that it was reopening the Emmett Till murder case, a case that sparked the civil rights movement 50 years ago and brought international attention to the United States’ treatment of blacks, the media harkened back to the power of an image. That is, Till’s murder arguably prompted so much attention at the time because images of his mangled body were shown to the world as he lay in his coffin. Now some are saying that the power of the image in sparking a movement for justice 50 years ago should serve as a reminder of the power of an image to produce change today.
This raises some interesting questions, however. Certainly, action is already being taken by the government to “clean house” in Iraq and to stop future instances of torture. But this is at least partially an attempt for the government to, as some would say, “cover its own ass” and ensure that it looks like it is doing something to take care of the problem.
But whether the torture will end permanently in Iraq and elsewhere as a result of these political endeavors and pressure by human rights advocates is questionable, perhaps even unlikely. For if political tides have taught us anything, it’s that images can hold our attention for only a brief while. They can motivate us to take action, but can they ensure that this action is sustainable?
Fifty years ago, images of Till’s mangled body jump-started the civil rights movement, which produced change but still has a ways to go. For now when we see images of suffering of and violence against minorities in our own country — images of people living in desolate poverty on the street or inhumane treatment of prisoners in U.S. prisons — we often consider those to be the “facts of life,” perhaps feeling sorry for those people, perhaps even giving some spare change to the person standing on the corner or even getting involved with some activist organization until it conflicts with our own schedules or until we find another cause to champion.
Am I dismissing these images of Iraqi suffering or even American suffering at the hands of more powerful people? Certainly not. Rather, I’m questioning the power of images to maintain a sustained interest and a sustained action on the behalf of the suffering — action that is not merely guided by pity or sympathy, but one that is rooted in empathy. This question may be more relevant today than it was 50 years ago given how saturated the media is with images and given the proliferation of media outlets. It’s easy to get distracted — and not necessarily with just lighthearted fare. In a time when it is often difficult to find much good in the world, a time when we seem to be learning about some new atrocity every week — while also living our own, arguably much more comfortable lives — it’s all too easy to get distracted and far too difficult to genuinely understand what the people in those images are going through, to experience the inhumanity of their suffering. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.
- Follow us on Twitter: @inthefray
- Comment on stories or like us on Facebook
- Subscribe to our free email newsletter
- Send us your writing, photography, or artwork
- Republish our Creative Commons-licensed content