There’s a phenomena I like to call tragedy porn. It’s the questionable human need to share in other people’s tragedy via the media. It’s that same compulsion that leads us to gawk at traffic fatalities and read stories about celebrities having nervous breakdowns. The most recent and regrettable incident occurred on the night of Canadian Olympic figure skater Joannie Rochette’s short program, just three days after her mother’s death.
I watched in awe as this brave young woman took to the ice and skated a flawless program, a testament to her love and memory of her mother. As she finished her skate, Rochette bent down, hands covering her face. Skating off the ice, she fell into her coach’s arms and burst into heartbreaking tears.
My empathy for her quickly turned to fury as cameras surrounded her and the TV lens zoomed in for a full-frame closeup. What may have started as a public moment had become a private one. But thanks to the gift of technology, we could share her intimate emotions.
Later, as the next skater was waiting for her marks, the cameras closed in on Rochette, now sobbing inconsolably in the arms of two coaches. As they lingered, the commentators wondered aloud how she must be feeling. How do you think she was feeling? Maybe that she wished a few cameramen would be electrocuted by their live feeds?
Just a week before, we saw continual reruns of the 20-year-old Georgian athlete Nodar Kumaritashvili as he crashed and died on the sliding track. Newspapers ran a series of photos, depicting every final detail. Eventually, public outcry led to the videos and photos being removed from media websites. As one of my colleagues commented today, he was still someone’s child and they shouldn’t have their son’s tragedy displayed publicly.
During our conversation, I was suddenly struck by the hypocrisy of some members of the media. At Christmas I was participating in a Habitat for Humanity fundraiser. Lots of business people and media were in attendance and we all had fun building gingerbread houses to raise money for Habitat.
I introduced myself to a local CBC commentator, and mentioned that I work in PR. After a considerable pause, he asked me if I know what journalists call PR types. While I knew the answer, I decided to let him tell me. “Flacks,” he said, then turned his back on me to seek more interesting conversation.
I need to delve in a little shop talk here. See, some journalists would tell you that everyone in PR is the equivalent of a Wild West snake oil salesman. Flack is a disparaging name for publicity agents who sell products, usually regardless of ethics or discrimination.
Yet I have never worked with a company that harms the environment, uses child labour or takes advantage of other people’s losses. I certainly never work with companies that gloat over deaths of athletes or their personal losses. It is true, however, that some PR practitioners do. Hypocrisy exists in every profession.
So where does that leave us? I guess that if some PR folks are flacks, then some members of the media are tragedy pornographers. And how do we stop it? Are readers and viewers ready to rise up and complain?
One way would be to stop idolizing our athletes and performers. Another would be to respect that their personal lives are just that – personal.
Perhaps there always will be people who gloat at others’ misfortune. Is that what they are really doing, or are they just trying to escape their own miseries?
News update: Joannie Rochette just won the Bronze Medal in Women’s Figure Skating.
Photo Credit
“Joannie Rochette” by Jenelle Schneider / Canwest News Service
I agree with everyone here who say this is an issue of balance.
I’ve delayed responding to this post, because I did not see the actual coverage in question.
As a recently retired CBC journalist, I do, however, feel compelled to say that the media is there to tell the complete story. In this case, the tragedy of Joannie Rochette losing her mother just days before her competition is a big part of the story.
I realize you are not suggesting that aspect be completely ignored. So the question becomes: How intrusive should the cameras be?
As uncomfortable as it is for most people, I think it was the duty of the cameras to reflect the reality of Rochette’s emotions following her win. However, if, as you say, they returned to her later, while another skater was waiting for their marks, then I agree that would have been over the line.
As for using the term ‘flak’ to describe Public Relations people, I have to plead guilty. I often used that term, when I know full well that many are professionals dedicated to getting the message out about their service or organization. In fact, there is one individual in particular who was an invaluable source of information for the public service (a power company) he represented. No matter what time of day or night, he was always available to talk to us about important issues such as power outages threatening either thousands of people, are perhaps just a few dozen. Sometimes, he would call us before we had a chance to call him.
But the fact remains that journalists have an inherent desire to get all the information, without filters. And public relations people are seen as filters. There will always be a natural unease between the two.
As for the CBC ‘commentator’ who insulted you, I’m surprised that this individual would somehow think you would be unfamiliar with the expression ‘flack’. This reflects naivete in addition to the more obvious traits of ignorance and rudeness. You can find jerks everywhere in this world, even at Mother Corp.
Thanks, Pat. All good comments. =)
Maggie
Here’s another case of tasteless reporting. My nephew, Adam, plays a tough, in-your-face style of hockey and as such is not popular with his Junior B Hockey opponents. In a recent playoff game, the radio announced made comments such as “this guy is living proof of the dangers of in-breeding”, and “what’s he arguing for? He only knows 6 words”. These are not direct quotes, but you get the message. At one point during the game, as my nephew was challenging someone to a fight, the announcer could be heard screaming at Adam to meet him after the game to fight him as well. I am a layman, and am unfamiliar with any journalistic codes of conduct, but I’m hoping there may be repercussions for this guys tasteless, personal attack.
Feedback, anyone?
Terry, this is absolutely shocking. I don’t think many journalists can be completely impartial. There was a fascinating discussion on this with four journalists whom I really admire and respect just yesterday on CBC radio’s The Current. If you can download it as a podcast, give it a listen.
That said, this guy is WAY out of line. I would contact the Radio Broadcaster’s Association to see what their regulations say and how you can lodge a complaint. Another would be the CRTC.
It is fair to say that we are all human and emotion takes over, but after the first time he needs to back off. Clearly he has lost his objectivity.
I agree. But, sadly, I don’t think there is an avenue of complaint. As I mentioned to Terry previously, I’m not aware of any ‘watchdog’ with teeth. You could try the Canadian Association of Broadcasters.
Or, maybe as a last resort, the regulatory agency, CRTC. I’m not sure if this case would draw its attention. It wades into only the most outrageous cases, such as broadcasters who utter racial slurs, etc.
As a last resort, I would at least try to generate some negative publicity about this guy and his station, perhaps with letters to the editor of your local paper.
I think it comes down to why these images are being shared with the public. In Julie’s case of violence in other countries, the media “should” be trying to get the word out about what’s happening, with the hope that pressure from the international community will help bring positive change. Do these horrific images inspire us as individuals to help in whatever way we can? Or are we so used to them we don’t even really see them anymore? That’s a question we can only answer individually.
In the case of a personal problem or struggle, I don’t believe that having everyone know about it actually helps the individual. Grief is horrible enough without total strangers getting in your face about it. Even if their intentions were good, I’d still want them to leave me alone.
I think you’re right, Sarah – the “why” is important. In my example, like you say, the why is often to raise awareness and to educate. But even in the case of Rochette, there is a compelling why, as Grace McDuff notes – to show love and support from a nation to a nation’s representative.
Perhaps more than the “why” is the fine balance that media can strive for. Back to my example, I think it’s possible to raise awareness without showing graphic footage of an individual. And back to this post’s examples, the fine balance would have been report on the death of a luger but not to show his death on live video stream. When we step over the line, I think that’s when the term “tragedy porn” really makes sense.
But like most things, it’s a supply & demand world. If there is enough demand for graphic images and the personal details of people’s lives, then it will be supplied!
I think you nailed it, Julie. Supply and demand. As much as “tragedy porn” disgusts us, it sells. It’s human nature to rubber neck as we drive by that accident, just as we (all?) watched the twin towers collapse numerous times during 911 disaster. So at what point do journalists cross the line? I know precious little of the industry, but I suspect the ones with compassion would not go far in their chosen field, Nice guys finish last.
Awesome post, Maggie. You sure have us thinking.
Thanks, everyone, for your posts! This is the exact discussion I hoped would occur. You have all made such great observations!
Sarah, you summed it up for me. Tragedy in Africa or Haiti makes me want to find ways to help or contribute. (Although I still don’t want to see people objectified.) Personal grief should be just that. If I choose to share my grief so others can learn or have hope for the future, that’s my choice.
Again, it’s balance for me.
A really interesting commentary.
Although I have never worked in PR (i.e. promoting a product or service directly to the public or B2B), I work as a communications strategist and writer for a number of public, private and non-profits. And I’ve often been mistaken as a “flack” by journalists, who (not all, of course) often feel themselves to be of a superior ilk. I’ve always found it a bit strange.
As for what you have coined “tragedy porn” — you are so right, it’s everywhere and it gets out of control. I too am vulnerable to its pull, but it really sickens me in many ways too. For instance, in the coverage of a tragedy such as deaths during civil unrest in another country — when I see a photo in the newspaper of an individual being beaten, about to be shot or newly dead (you get the idea) — I can’t help but wonder, “how does the journalist just stand there? and why is it okay for us, safe in our homes in another country, to print this and stare at the face of another human being as if they were an object for our gaze?”
I agree to a point. I believe the spectators were trying to give her support after the tragedy of her mother’s death. I also believe that the media went too far in exposing the “sensitive nerves” of the athlete after she had performed her skate. There should be a balance here. The media definitely goes over the line quit often. The questions they ask etc. are sometimes mindless like, “how do you feel?” after she has just lost her mother. I think we all need to consider the person when these things have happened, but I also think we should show our love and support.
Thanks for your comments, Grace. I actually agree with you in most regard. I certainly watched her performance with a lump in my throat and I was teary when she left the ice in tears. The death of my sister washed back in droves. I felt empathy and great support for her.
What I was not okay with was the closeup shots of her in tears, and certainly not the cameras zooming in on her when she was overcome by her grief – and while the next competitor took her bows. That crossed the line for me.
You are bang on, Grace, when you say it’s about balance.