In the modern age of 24 hour news
cycles and social media, we are constantly bombarded with images of human
suffering on an unimaginable scale, argues a
recent Guardian Long Read article by Elisa Gabbert. With global
peace and security deteriorating and immediate access to the horrors of
violence and disasters through social media, we have never been more aware of
the trauma of others. With this new exposure to suffering, argues Gabbert,
there is a very real risk of becoming numb to the headlines. When there is that
much trauma, what can one person do to help? What’s the point in doing
anything, if the one person you might help will only be replaced by a million
more in an even worse situation?
This sense of helplessness and
desire to turn away is clinically referred to as “compassion fatigue”. As
Gabbert references, the psychologist Charles Figley defines
compassion fatigue as “a state of exhaustion and dysfunction... as a
result of prolonged exposure to compassion stress”. The effects of compassion
fatigue are particularly detrimental to first responders and carers, individuals
who are exposed to trauma every day as part of their job, but with more direct
exposure to conflict, disaster, and suffering than ever before, there’s a risk
of compassion fatigue manifesting itself in the general public as well.
Throughout the Guardian article, Gabbert wrestles with
the consequences of this feeling of apathy that comes from prolonged exposure
to compassion stress. It’s hard to watch the news, when, as journalist Susan
Moeller puts it, the media careens “from one trauma to another, in a
breathless tour of poverty, disease and death”. You can only watch so many such
stories before it becomes too emotionally taxing. How many times have you heard
someone say that they don’t like to watch the news because it’s “too depressing”?
The media, activists, and
campaigners have long
been aware of the very real effects of dehumanisation, and it’s opposite.
Telling someone that one million people are suffering as a result of the latest
disaster or conflict rarely inspires action because it is impossible to
comprehend that many people, let alone that many people’s suffering. But
telling the story of one of those people elicits a much stronger emotional
reaction and desire to respond, because suddenly the tragedy has been ‘humanised’,
it’s suddenly real. However, if that very human story of personalised trauma
appears on our screens alongside twenty other very human stories of
personalised trauma, then for many of us, our reserves of empathy and
compassion have already been used up and we’re back to square one.
Combating compassion fatigue in
this interconnected world is therefore increasingly difficult. A scroll down my
Twitter feed shows news reports depicting the latest violence in Yemen and
Syria, project updates from Medecins Sans
Frontieres detailing the struggle to support refugees in the Mediterranean,
and even comedians and actors bemoaning the latest policies of the Trump
administration that continue to separate families at the border. If I really want to make a difference, which one of
these issues deserves my attention? And even if I picked one, what can I
actually do to make any real impact? And, if somehow I managed to do something,
anything, will I just have to do it all over again when the next thing comes
along? It certainly is overwhelming.
Gabbert struggles with her own
conclusion that stepping away from politics is one way of coping with
compassion fatigue. There is comfort, she argues, in knowing that if you
personally just need a break from the worries of the world, there will be other
people to pick up the slack until you’re ready to carry on the fight. However,
as she acknowledges, sometimes this feels more like avoidance than a real
solution to the problem. Is there anything else we can do to overcome
compassion fatigue?
The humanisation of a problem
certainly seems to galvanise a response and gain support for humanitarian
operations in the immediate aftermath of a disaster or conflict, but focusing
only on the human trauma is increasingly unhelpful. Instead, we should be
focusing on the whole human experience. Individuals that have lived through war
or a major disaster are still individuals, with their own aspirations, skills,
family histories, and stories to tell. Those stories are not limited to the
trauma. We are at risk, with our current news coverage, of labelling a survivor
of conflict or poverty as simply that; another wretched soul in need of
assistance. This breeds the apathy and even indignation symptomatic of
compassion fatigue. What makes this person more deserving of my help than
anyone else?
But refugees, conflict survivors,
those displaced by disasters or suffering from poverty, are not defined by
their current status. They might need some help right now, but mostly they want
to help themselves. And so often, they do. These are the stories we don’t hear.
That malnourished, crying child on the news today, if given the right sort of
support right now, will have far happier stories to tell in the future. Human
stories that don’t drain our compassion, but inspire us. Last year I spent
three months living and working in Sarajevo with the Post-Conflict Research Center (PCRC). Sarajevo
today is a vibrant, unique city surrounded by the most incredibly beautiful
natural environment, and filled with people who do amazing things every day.
Just over twenty years ago, it was a burned out husk that dominated our newsreels
as a place with little to no hope for the future. Whilst I was there I spent
some time covering the still-developing Rohingya crisis, and the burned out
homes, displaced populations, and ethnic violence echoed many of the scenes in the former Yugoslavia two
decades prior. I found myself wondering what the status of the Rohingya people
will be in twenty years time. What will Syria look like in 2040?
Humans are survivors, and even in
the darkest times there are sparks of light. Those sparks of light can lift us
out of compassion fatigue and inspire us instead. Those are the stories we
should be telling. PCRC first opened my eyes to this with their Ordinary
Heroes project, which focuses on ordinary people who did amazing things
to save lives in the darkest days of the conflict. These people never had their
faces on the news. Similarly, UNHCR’s Stories page
has been set up to tell the stories of re-homed refugees who are now making an
impact in their new societies in various unique and interesting ways. Again, these
are the stories that don’t get featured in the headlines.
The helplessness that many people
might feel watching the news stems, at least in part, from a sense that the
suffering is so severe, so extreme, that there’s nothing we can do to help. It
is important to remember that what we see is a snapshot of the lowest point of
these people’s lives. Their stories don’t stop when the journalists and aid
agencies leave. They pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and carry on. And
make many new stories that involve laughter and love. We should seek these
stories out, because they can lift us up and inspire us when we might be
starting to feel like there’s no hope.
You don’t need to save a life to
make a difference, and you should not take that weight with you. You need to
give someone a chance to save their own. And if we as socially-conscious
citizens can manage that then we are given the chance to see how resourceful
and incredible people can be. I found inspiration in the stories I heard of
survival in the darkest days of the former-Yugoslav wars, and continue to feel
energised by the tales of everyday heroism in today’s conflict and disaster
zones.
The world can often seem like a
dark and scary place, especially when we are exposed to its darkest and
scariest moments. But if we focus on the human stories, the full human stories,
suddenly it feels as though things might be a little more hopeful than we first
thought.
great post!
ReplyDelete