Reflecting on our Lens: Decolonising Imagery within International Development
By James Andrews, Communications Officer, University of Sussex
This story has also been published on the EADI Blog
When selecting a photo to bring colour to the blog you've spent hours copy-editing, have you considered whether it disrupts the colonial gaze, or might it—perhaps inadvertently—reinforce these entrenched power structures? When arranging an interview for your lively development podcast, are you giving a platform to a Western academic who has conducted research 'in the field,' or would it be more impactful to interview someone who has spent their entire life living and working in that 'field'? How do you create multimedia content that not only attracts donor funding but also remains sensitive to the unique circumstances of the individuals whose stories you aim to tell, while being aware of your own cultural, class and gender biases?
Every development practitioner—whether a researcher, community organiser, activist or communications professional—is shaped by the historical, cultural and social contexts we inhabit. The research we conduct and the stories we choose to tell are inevitably influenced by our worldview. How we perceive and construct 'the other' within our development narratives, why we highlight certain stories over others, who we give the platform to tell their story, and who we aim to influence are all impacted by the history of colonialism that runs through international development.
This was certainly true for myself as I began my journey as a communications practitioner within international development. As a dual national (Scottish and Australian) raised in England, my early memories of the ‘developing world’ were shaped by hearing the Bob Geldof’s Band Aid song "Do They Know It's Christmas?" —a song intended to raise funds for the mid-1980s famine in East Africa. I would see charity appeals on TV showing images of starving black and brown children in need of my donations. I do not recall ever seeing much context given as to why these children were starving, or what impact the history of European colonialism and neoliberal structural adjustment programmes might have had on their lives. All I was shown was that these people were in trouble, unable to help themselves, and with flies in their eyes, it was up to us Western people to save them. It was only much later that I would learn terms like 'poverty porn' and 'white saviour imagery', and be exposed to books like Said’s Orientalism, Chomsky's Manufacturing Consent and Chamber’s' Whose Reality Counts?
Facing colonial legacies in development
Entering into the world of international development I quickly learned that we are in a period of crisis in both development and Development Studies, particularly concerning coloniality and its contemporary manifestations. I also came to understand that any practitioner worth their salt knows to take that critical lens that we frequently use to analyse others and turn it upon ourselves to better understand our own layered history and challenge the potential reproduction of colonial, class and gender legacies.
Working for mostly UK based organisations I have found myself trying navigate these issues with the backdrop of Brexit, the impact of the UK government merging of development spending with foreign policy and the rise of thinly veiled slogans like ‘we want our country back’ and ‘stop the boats’ from our politicians.
Confronting privilege in visual storytelling: reflecting on consent
Historically, the power to capture and disseminate images has been held by outsiders—often Western photographers, journalists, so-called ‘explorers’, religious missionaries and later on aid workers. This dynamic has led to a skewed representation that prioritises the perspectives and interests of the one holding the camera. Decolonising the use of images necessitates a critical examination of who is the subject and who what the aims of the person capturing the image are.
Reflecting on my own practice, I have had to confront the discomfort of recognising my position of privilege and the ways it has influenced my approach to visual storytelling.
I have had to question if all the photos I took or interviews I conducted while in West Africa or Central America had fully informed consent. Did I manage to properly explain in my broken Spanish how the images were going to be used? I do not know if the people I was interviewing thought that then speaking to me was somehow tied into the research we were conducting, the WASH projects we were working on in their communities or the English lessons we were teaching to their children. And, I am even less sure if me using these communications outputs to progress my own career has any benefit at all to the people who feature in them, or if this is just another form of extracting something from the developing world.
Does informed consent go far enough?
There are serious questions about how best we can go about respecting the dignity and agency of individuals depicted in imagery. It is not enough to get the subject to sign a consent form saying you can use their likeness, it involves moving away from a focus on suffering and towards highlighting resilience, innovation and strength. It is about portraying individuals as active agents of change rather than passive recipients of aid. And, showing the underlying historical and economic causes of much of the poverty in the world rather than destitution being just one of those things that we have no control over.
It is now widely acknowledged that no single uniform voice can represent 'the local perspective' or 'the developing world.' Within developing communities there are still social classes and hierarchies, poverty is relative and even most marginalised community may have conflicting aims and agendas which can either drive new forms of decolonisation or sustain existing hierarchies. Those at the top of these communities see the world through their eyes and wish to project a certain image about their community that might not represent the whole.
Ethical approaches to storytelling and imagery should proactively challenge unequal power dynamics — not just at the moment of capturing a photo, but ensuring the subjects are comfortable and have provided consent, but also by considering the broader implications and significance of that photo. These concerns have led some researchers to adopt methods like Photovoice, which looks to empower individuals to create their own images and narratives.
Revealing our history, not erasing it
I wanted to end this reflective piece with an argument that I heard the author Stephen Fry make a few years ago when discussing the global movement to remove public artworks in an attempt to decolonise public spaces and specifically the Cecil Rhodes statue at Oxford University.
For context, Cecil Rhodes was an English businessman and politician in Southern Africa. Along with the British South Africa Company he founded Rhodesia, what is now Zimbabwe and Zambia, his company De Beers still sells diamonds mined in Africa to his day, and most recently has been the target of students protesting over his statue at university campuses wanting to decolonise education spaces.
Fry argued that “the way to fight colonialism is not to pull down his statue but to reveal who he was”. Trying to scrub the West's awful colonial history of brutality is a very Orwellian way of approaching the issue, it's very 1984, it's trying to whitewash history because you don’t want people to be offended in the present. I believe that this is also true of our approach to decolonising imagery within international development.
We cannot change history, poverty porn images of helpless children, images of these wonderful white people saving the less fortunate and questionable UN report front covers of African women smiling while carrying pots on their heads are a part of the heritage of our discipline. Rather than whitewash this, we should change how we remember history and draw lessons to not make the same mistakes again.
Engaging honestly with the intricate dynamics of power, positionality and image production within development storytelling can be personally challenging as it calls into question the legitimacy of communications actors and our work. Decolonising means being aware of our past while being mindful not to repeat the mistakes of those who came before us. Storytelling needs to reflect a genuine understanding and respect for the communities we aim to support.
What have I learned - some practical tips for decolonising your imagery
- Always aim to give context to the imagery you are using. Poverty, gender backlash, climate change etc are not natural phenomena, they are man-made. It is only by unpicking the underlying historical, colonial causes and economic complexities that we can begin to address these issues effectively, rather than oversimplifying them as inevitable or unchangeable.
- Embrace collaborative storytelling. Where possible work with local photographers, artists and storytellers who have a nuanced understanding of their communities and can capture the richness of their experiences in ways that outsiders cannot.
- Give your platforms such as your podcast, publications or blog webpages to storytellers from developing nations to use to amplify their own voice.
- The developing world is a big place. Try to avoid one size fits all depictions. Embracing complexity is what international development is all about.
- Ask yourself reflective questions. Consider: What if this were my children in the photograph? How would I want them to be portrayed? Are the people depicted in a dignified manner, or are we emphasising certain elements to play on the audience's emotions?
James Andrews is Communications Officer at the University of Sussex, UK
This story is part of the “Share your Decolonising Story Project”