(THIS ARTICLE IS MACHINE TRANSLATED by Google from Norwegian)
Photography has a long tradition of showing us the suffering and misery of people. An early example is the American photographer Lewis Hines pictures. Hine used the camera in a large sociological study of the industrial city of Pittsburgh in 1907 and documented the lives of workers at the steel mills. His intention was to form the basis of social reform in his day. Today, his pictures hang on museum walls around the world and are an important part of photo history and American cultural heritage.
Many photographers think we should be able to see images of people's distress – because this is something that is actually happening in our time. But what does it mean to us constantly to witness the most terrible human tragedy – as parents digging up their dead children after a bomb attack in Aleppo? Does it increase our capacity for compassion for those in the midst of disaster, or do we end up building emotional defense walls in meeting the tragic fates of the world?
Curing Process. Already in 2003 Susan Sontag writes in her book To consider the suffering of others on the theme of war and photography that as the accident occurs closer to home, the photographer is expected to be more discreet in depicting the disorder. When the terror hit us in July 2011 and it suddenly was our feelings that were to be set against freedom of speech and the press's social mission, we ourselves were the ones who got to know the ethics of the Weather Varsom poster on the body.
Sontag argues that photographs have a huge influence on what disasters we care about and how they are handled, which is obvious in today's media image. But she also believes that this saturating image stream lowers the effect of those images that really matter. Our skin hardens, and we lose the ability to feel – or let the conscience be affected.
The supersaturated image stream lowers the effect of the images that really matter.
Saturation Point. We have long heard of a persistent drought in East Africa and this, combined with ongoing conflicts in countries such as South Sudan and Somalia, results in a great shortage of food and water. The UN has declared famine in the area – yet the situation has received little attention in international media. Relief organizations struggle to convey their seriousness.
We all remember the picture of the vulture and the girl from 1993, which made the world open to the hunger catastrophe of that day in South Sudan. The image had a shock effect and led to reactions and ripple effects. At the same time, it contributed to alienation and distance. The photograph tells us exactly what to think and feel. In retrospect, we have reached several saturation points when it comes to photographic documentation of other people's suffering or cruelty. The question is whether we have today passed this type of imagery.
Commonplace Truth. The main rule in peace journalism is that violence should not be reported as a single event, but as created by structures, cultures and processes in society. The peace-prevention work that the press can contribute by bringing us down to the human level has enormous potential.
Mustafa Saeed has traveled around and photographed families who have lived off cattle farming in Somalia for generations and are now hard hit by the drought that is taking place. These nomads are representative of many Somali families in the Horn of Africa. The cattle that they see die right before their eyes are their livelihood and savings.
Identification factors. Saeed himself is from Somalia, but grew up in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, on the other side of the Red Sea. Through several of his photography projects he has become involved in the situation in the area. He has knowledge of the history of the people, which provides a basis for meetings based on mutual respect. To photograph can be to take a step back, put something into perspective, so that one can observe and try to understand. What is it in an image that determines whether we see ourselves or the others? Do we identify with or distance ourselves from those we consider?
What is it in an image that determines whether we see ourselves or the others? Do we identify with or distance ourselves from those we see?
By refraining from dramatization, Saeed allows us to use our own range of emotions and experiences. What we see does not matter to the extent that it shakes us out of everyday life – but gives us an opportunity to take part in the picture.
Community. Those who pose for the camera, with their eyes fixed on us, have one thing in common: they have all lost large parts of their livestock in a drought that is the worst in decades, and they are stripped back. By sharing the situation in the pictures, Saeed's photo series contributes to the creation of a community in the midst of the disaster that affects all individuals. The scale is huge: Save the Children estimates that nearly three million people need relief and that over 300 000 children suffer from malnutrition.
Miriam sits with an infant in her lap with her daughter Sahra and her two children. A boy in early elementary school age is between the two women. Everyone has their eyes fixed on us: they meet us directly and confrontationally. They sit in front of their makeshift residence on the outskirts of the city of Burao – where they have fled from their former nomadic existence. It's as if they say, "Here we are, and this is how we live now," in these dramatized portraits that invite us to meet both the people and the situation they are in.