Putting what one has experienced, said and thought into a text always means distilling things into a new, reduced order. After all, it is not possible to portray "reality", the myriads of simultaneities. This is why it is so childish to claim that the slogan "telling it like it is" is the antithesis of fabrication. The path to the crime (i.e. the intentional fabrication of a story) passes through a sprawling antechamber of minor legal peccadilloes. Here in this antechamber, the text is trimmed, groomed and pimped until it fits the prevailing style. And the more foreign and unfamiliar the culture at the centre of the text is, the more silent the scruples.
Susceptible to hubris
The young generation of reporters is in many ways better equipped than my generation: these young reporters speak several languages; they are cosmopolitan, admirably courageous and have travelled widely. But perhaps this also makes them susceptible to hubris. And those who are not themselves susceptible are pushed into this myth of having what can only be described as a superhuman ability to understand everything and relate everything, regardless of the cultural context.
Spurring journalists on to hubris is cost-effective, much cheaper than maintaining a foreign correspondent or paying permanent local personnel in any given area of conflict, the translators and fixers that appear year for year on Reporters without Borders' annual lists of media personnel who have been killed – martyrs to the cause of Western media.
When I revised my book "Vom Versuch, nicht weiß zu schreiben" (English: On the attempt to not write white) for a new edition six years after its first publication, I was astonished to see how little had changed in the intervening period. Yes, we now have Fake News and the constant emergence of new formats, but we also still have cultural arrogance, which continues to flourish in Western journalism.
From framing to fabrication
Modesty is rarely rewarded, unless it is staged modesty – as in the case of Claas Relotius – but not when it draws attention to cracks, holes and inadequacies. Instead, we reward an aesthetic of empathy that sometimes has colonial characteristics.
Can we really describe the world from the perspective of a Yemeni housewife, a shepherdess in Bhutan or an elderly Senegalese fisherman? As if we were inside their minds and hearts! As if we knew enough about these people, who are so different from us, to be able to put ourselves in their shoes! The Yemeni housewife, the shepherdess in Bhutan and the elderly Senegalese fisherman would never dream of doing such a thing. They respect boundaries. We do not, and that is a typical feature of white writing.
And then there is the interplay of the media habit of viewing the inhabitants of a country in a certain way and the political and military strategies that are devised for that country. When it comes to Mali, for example, reports in German media are told almost exclusively from the perspective of the German armed forces. But where does framing end and fabrication begin?
No one apologises for this to the people of Mali. Just like Der Spiegel has never apologised to Muslims in Germany for its Islamophobic cover images. The Islamisation of Germany was good for a cover years before the Alternative for Germany (AfD) was founded.
There is much talk at present about a post-colonial globalisation. Museums and ethnologists are beginning to see that they have to relinquish control and can no longer claim the central perspective. What is white journalism relinquishing? Nothing. It is ill-prepared for the future.
© Qantara.de 2019
Translated from the German by Aingeal Flanagan