Representing: Spectacular Violence
Why do certain kinds of violence attract more coverage than others? The most obvious example of an instance of violence that attracted a great deal of coverage is that of the attacks on the World Trade Center in New York on September 11, 2001.
Within a few minutes of American Airlines Flight 11 hitting the North Tower numerous cameras were trained on the scene and were able to film the second plane crashing into the South Tower, and the subsequent collapse of both towers. These images were repeated again and again over the next hours and days, often in slow motion, allowing audiences around the world to watch the images again and again. Repeated viewing led some young children to believe similar attacks were still occurring. This was unarguably an event of great significance and, above all, a terrible personal tragedy for those killed, injured or otherwise caught up in it. In the words of an experienced BBC reporter, James Robbins, speaking on a BBC 1 news report, following these attacks: ‘an entire society feels violated by terror'. The ripples spread throughout North America and became the catalyst for the global ‘war on terror'.Nevertheless, a question can be asked about the scale of the media representation. Many commentators claimed this was ‘the biggest story' of their lifetimes or the ‘biggest since the end of the Second World War', many networks devoting their entire schedules to the story for several days. For Dan Rather, ‘September 11 was unlike anything we'd seen before'; Tom Brokaw said he ‘never thought there would be a story of this magnitude or a story this horrifying'.[1044] A BBC executive passed a note to the experienced broadcaster Robin Lustig while on air: ‘This is the biggest global story for 50 years.’11 One of Fox News's vice-presidents said ‘I think at first our audience and all the television news were like moths to the flame...
We were addicted to the video of the horrific event.’[1045] [1046] It is worth asking why editors were so addicted.New York is the news-media capital of the USA. The news personnel, production facilities and infrastructure were situated near to the attacks. Both Rather and Brokaw recall being able to see the event for themselves the moment after they heard of it through the media. Several journalists were nearby covering other stories and retrained their cameras onto the ‘smoke pouring out of the World Trade Center’. Breaking news broke, as it seldom does, in the domestic spaces of a generation of reporters.
The 2003 Iraq War provides an interesting contrary case. The 700 or so embedded journalists were able to provide close-up pictures of fighting, but by their own admission were often unable to describe the ‘big picture’. The journalists at the media centres in Qatar found themselves in an even more frustrating situation than those trapped in the media pools at Dahran in the 1991 Gulf War: many returned home early. Their access to news stories and pictures was severely limited by the military press minders. Only a few unilateral journalists working independently of army units were able to capture the kind of distinctive footage and interviews available to all journalists during 9/ 11, and this at the cost of being exposed to considerable physical danger.
In short, where the journalist is, where the output is produced and where the events take place make a difference to what is reported on. Whether or not you can see the event, and perhaps are caught up in it, influences perception of what is newsworthy. Imagine how news values would alter if most major news networks had their executive offices and editing suites in north-eastern Congo. Location matters.
Moreover, some locations are more symbolic than others. Nancy Gibbs wrote in Time: ‘If you want to humble an empire it makes sense to maim its cathedrals.
They are symbols of its faith, and when they crumple and burn, it tells us we are not so powerful and we can’t be safe.’[1047] And of course the symbolism of the Twin Towers was by no means the most important layer of tragic meaning. These buildings were populated. The victims came not just from the USA, but from some eighty-three other nations from around the world. All of this helped to personalise the story, for viewers and editors alike.The economics of production also shapes news. Stories originating in Africa tend to be less profitable than those in wealthier nations with a larger media presence, partly because of what richer news consumers want to view, and partly because of the cost of providing the images. Many Western news organisations closed foreign bureaux to save costs in the 1980s and 1990s, which had questionable effects on framing of news stories in the West, effects that have not been reversed by the keener interest in foreign news after 9/11. News organisations still rely on ‘fire-fighter' journalists ‘parachuted' into conflict zones equipped with highly portable cameras but often lacking the linguistic, cultural or historical knowledge to make sense of what they film.
Given such practices, it is not surprising that many journalists are drawn towards covering the spectacular. Guy Debord, the French theorist and author of The Society of the Spectacle, argued that spectacle depoliticises and pacifies the public, whilst affirming the power of the ‘ruling order'.[1048] Reliance by news organisations on daily spectacles of relatable violence can contribute to an incomplete understanding of the nature and causes of conflict. As Eddie Adams reflectively said of his own work: ‘Still photographs are the most powerful weapons in the world. People believe them; but photographs do lie, even without manipulation. They are only half-truths.'[1049]