This article says it well, Bob
Viewpoint
Gripped by disaster, are we fuelling an industry of exploitation?
No matter where disaster strikes, television news reporters gather, but how many fly-in/fly-out journalists will stick with the story after the immediate threat passes? Picture: Thinkstock Source: Supplied
MAINSTREAM TV reporting of catastrophes is turning reporting of human struggles, the mighty elements, loss and consequences, into nothing more than disaster porn.
Nowhere has this been so evident than with recent "live" coverage of Tasmania's bushfires.
Late last week and into this one, the southeast of Tasmania burned, forcing thousands of residents and holidaymakers to evacuate as homes and livelihoods, never mind pets and livestock, perished.
Operating under the guise of "human interest" and "keeping the public informed", reporters from various TV networks descended on the Apple Isle and into the afflicted communities and evacuation centres, determined to be the first with a scoop.
Crossing in situ during any disaster has become de rigueur, as if live reporting endows the story with more gravitas. The last thing a community in calamity needs is extra people, strangers, who aren't there to help as much as they are to exploit.
Finding bewildered and displaced people in affected areas, reporters posed and repeated invasive and stupid questions ("Are you heartbroken?"), set ridiculous expectations ("When do you expect to start rebuilding?"), and tried to make those interviewed emote to the point of breakdown.
Tears become justification for keeping cameras rolling, to capture grief for all to share - for what purpose exactly?
An emotional soundtrack accompanied some reports; a soap opera instead of news.
Sadly, for all the earnest reporting and faux displays of empathy, the media interest only lasts until the next emergency.
The commercial imperative that drives the networks means as soon as the next "big story" breaks, the TV crews will move on.
Until then, however, the current disaster is recycled ad nauseam across news, current affairs and morning shows. New angles are found for our consumption - and consume them we do, like fast food.
Why is suffering newsworthy? Focusing on loss, fear and trauma, this type of reporting, our expectations about broadcasts and even our reactions, are normalised.
Some victims willingly talk to the reporters, believing they're doing the community a service by explaining what happened, their grief, gratitude for the help they received and that they survived.
But where will the crews be when rebuilding starts?
Answer: Doing what's required of them. Filming and filing from elsewhere.
Where will the interested audiences be? Answer: Glued to the next catastrophe, oohing, aahing and feeling grateful it's not us burning, drowning, being blown to smithereens.
No doubt, the media serves a very important role in terms of the social understanding of all kinds of events: triumphs, tragedies and everything in between.
In this, print media especially has the time to display a degree of sensitivity and appropriateness.
But, somewhere along the way, particularly in TV current affairs, the need to inform has blurred with the desire to entertain.
Hence, we have disaster porn, a media sideshow from which we're unable to look away; where we, the audience, become the worst kind of voyeurs, fascinated by the spectacle of others' despair and trauma.
The ethics of this kind of "on the ground" and "in your face" reporting, and the insidious nature of the interviews, need to be balanced against respect for human dignity and an awareness that those in crisis must be allowed time and space to process what's occurred without a camera or microphone in their face.
We need to ensure that, as both audiences and human beings, we don't overlook the people at the heart of these stories.
Long after the cameras stop rolling, their suffering and attempts to rebuild continue, as does their hope for the future.
I’m pretty sure the dinosaurs died out when they stopped gathering food and started having meetings to discuss gathering food
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