Humans of New York and ethical reflections in the digital age

Anthropological debates and ethics in the digital age

With HONY, Stanton taps into a long-standing anthropological question of how, and what it means, to humanize the “other.” Yet the tensions inherent in this question are exponentially magnified by digital platforms with audiences of millions of people. Perhaps audiences see these photos and stories and connect with something greater than themselves, finding an unexpected moment of shared experience with a stranger. In particular, they might see these unknown individuals as filled with the same hopes, desires, and love as themselves. It allows for the belief in a universal human experience, a shared understanding of what it means to be a parent, to lose a partner, to struggle at work, and to feel lonely. Each post is a powerful narrative moment, a portrait of the person, and a small glimpse into their lives. It allows us to transcend, even momentarily, the divisiveness and difference that keep people apart. This is a perspective frequently repeated, both from Stanton himself, and across reviews, media, and news reports about HONY. Yet what it means to transcend differences, and for whom, is a debate that stretches to the earliest origins of anthropology and the practice of ethnography.

The assumptions of universality contained in the idea of transcending difference collapse the specifics of who speaks and who hears. The claim to represent the “universal,” which is intended to broaden the reach and depth of a work, can often be that which limits and constrains it; the “universal” inevitably reveals itself to be a particular cultural subgroup asserting dominance over others. Considering ethics in anthropology, Marilyn Strathern (1987) writes,

Whether the prime factors are the colonial relations between the societies from which both anthropologists and informants come or the use to which the text will be put, the social worlds of anthropologist and informant are different. They have no interests in common to be served by this purportedly common product. (p. 290)

These questions come quickly to the fore when considering Stanton’s trip to Iraq in 2014, while ongoing blasts from the US forces, intended to target the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS), were also terrorizing the local population. What neo-colonial forces were at work in Stanton’s interviews with Iraqi subjects? To what use will the photos and stories on his blog be put? Can there be any shared interest or goals between Stanton and the Iraqi citizens in that kind of text? In one photo, an anguished older Iraqi man looks at the viewer, as a younger man moves to put an arm around him, or perhaps to shield him from the gaze of the camera and the onslaught of questions. The caption reads,

My parents were captured when I was sixteen. They both died in prison.

What do you remember about the day they were taken?

I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this. Can we stop? (Keneally, 2014)

Examples such as this raise additional questions about the role of the researcher or journalist, reaching into wounds that stretch back half a century, resurfacing old traumas in the midst of the creation of new ones. And critically, it highlights the medium itself, as that photo was presented to millions of individuals around the world through the digital distribution of HONY’s blog, shared to other social media pages and even republished in mainstream newspapers. To what extent did that man understand the full implications when he agreed to be photographed and interviewed?

Negotiating the politically neutral in a politically charged field

A second critique of Stanton’s work with HONY centers on his self-professed neutrality: the lack of any larger socio-economic processes which fuel the particular events or situations depicted. Another image from the 2014 Iraq trip shows a young girl sitting upright and smiling, while her father seated next to her says, “She always dreams about the bombs” (Keneally, 2014). This caption seems to present the Iraq war as an impartial and unavoidable humanitarian tragedy, with bombs falling like hail from the sky. Nor are “the bombs” independent of those who drop them. Seeing this picture of the girl and her father, Western audiences might feel compassion or sympathy that a bright child is having nightmares of bombs, without being forced to confront the fact that the United States is the reason she dreams of bombs, the reason for the “humanitarian tragedy” and the “turmoil” of war.

The HONY project then stands in the uncomfortable position of working to humanize the people that Western powers have specifically dehumanized and exploited, but without connecting to any larger political consciousness. General statements like “the war” or “the bombs” are curiously disentangled from the web in which they operate. In the words of one article particularly critical of the United Nations (UN)/HONY World Tour, “HONY … does not implicate Westerners for the poverty, suffering, and conflict in these countries. Instead, the photographs present a decontextualized narrative of poverty and conflict that are disconnected from the global imbalances that created them” (Advani & Woldemikael, 2014). Stanton has repeatedly affirmed that he does not want to be political, that he’s simply telling the stories that are not often told, thereby positioning himself as the conduit through which stories are communicated to a broader audience. Perhaps it is not the place or position of Stanton or the blog to offer political commentary on each situation, on the myriad ways that Western/US imperialism has affected the lives of those he documents. Yet the omission of political content often makes the photos seem strangely disconnected from the larger structures that cause or sustain them.

One could also read the blog as a more implicit critique of structural factors. In a US domestic context, Stanton posted a series of photos that went viral, documenting a young boy in New York named Vidal, who spoke about his inspirational principal and his school. The campaign raised a tremendous amount of money (USD1.4 million) and public awareness for this school and for the hard work of the teachers, principal, and the students. Yet does this translate into greater involvement and appreciation for schools in other parts of the city and the country which are also doing important work and are also dangerously underfunded? Critics argue that these moments do not translate into daily life; that we collectively “feel good” about raising money and consider our work complete. Furthermore, the photo series itself was largely divorced from discussions about structural issues such as racism, poverty, and oppression that affect the lives of the teachers and students. One wonders as well about the lives of Vidal, Ms Lopez, and the other teachers and students at the academy after this whirlwind series of changes, as audiences read moving accounts of their difficulties and triumphs, poured money into the school, then slowly let them fade from view.

Conclusion

There are no simple conclusions about HONY. It may be the narrow perspective of a privileged, Western, White man who projects a humble story of seeking shared humanity, yet subscribes to deceptive universal principles that reduce his subjects to caricatures, who deals in shallow compassion and sentimentality to persuade his audiences to click “like” without having to do anything more, and who profits off the personal stories and histories of people’s lives. Yet it is not so simple. There are the often powerful stories themselves, and the millions of comments, the repeated affirmations that seeing these pictures and reading these stories changes people’s hearts and minds, even in small ways: “I promise to remember this man’s story and the millions I’ll never hear, to keep perspective and be thankful every day” (Williams, 2014). There is the outpouring of support and the immense financial donations. There is Stanton’s ongoing work documenting the stories of Syrian refugees at a time when Western powers are agonizing over whether to allow refugees into their countries. Against the fear-mongering, racist paranoia, and Islamophobia of far-right political leaders and media in the United States, and increasing violent attacks against Muslims, Stanton’s photos of Muslim refugees present people talking about the devastation of war, caring for their families, their hopes for their children, and their hopes for new beginnings. HONY still has room to grow and would benefit from ongoing conversations and engagement with established ethical practices and principles. Yet to create a massively popular site that seeks to dismantle the otherwise pervasive narrative of irreconcilable differences between people is perhaps not such a small thing after all.