Listen to a short interview with James Chris Gondek | Heron & Crane
After the worst thing in the world happens, then what? What is left to the survivors, the witnesses, those who tried to help? What can we do to prevent more atrocities from happening in the future, and to stop the ones that are happening right now? That the World May Know tells the powerful and moving story of the successes and failures of the modern human rights movement. Drawing on firsthand accounts from fieldworkers around the world, the book gives a painfully clear picture of the human cost of confronting inhumanity in our day.
There is no dearth of such stories to tell, and James Dawes begins with those that emerged from the Rwandan genocide. Who, he asks, has the right to speak for the survivors and the dead, and how far does that right go? How are these stories used, and what does this tell us about our collective moral future? His inquiry takes us to a range of crises met by a broad array of human rights and humanitarian organizations. Here we see from inside the terrible stresses of human rights work, along with its curious seductions, and the myriad paradoxes and quandaries it presents.
With pathos, compassion, and a rare literary grace, this book interweaves personal stories, intellectual and political questions, art and aesthetics, and actual "news" to give us a compelling picture of humanity at its conflicted best, face-to-face with humanity at its worst.
The best bit is the part about "Storytelling," which talks about human rights "novels," in connection to the larger narratives that we create for ourselves about horrific situations. Discusses the responsibility of witness, the insider/outsider dilemma of telling, and the motivations of humanitarian workers themselves. Reviews "dissident" human rights lit (ie those who criticize the industry) and examines their problems with many first hand interviews. Depressing, but worth a read if you're in the industry or curious about why people what they do with volunteering other than "we do this because it is good and it will therefore produce good".
James Dawes offers readers an important view into a sometimes neglected aspect of human rights tragedies throughout the world, that is, the way in which the stories of victims are recorded and perpetuated throughout the world. Importantly, this short book serves to raise a number of important questions and issues that can serve as jumping off points for extended study. As such, it is an important component of any attempt to effectively engage human tragedy wherever it is perpetrated in the world. Dawes' account offers a powerful reminder that we can not rely on the redemptive power of stories alone, but must look through the stories to the story tellers and re-tellers, and examine their role and influence on the story.
As I prepare primary documents and survivor testimonies for a crimes against humanity museum, Dawes work has been invaluable in reminding me of the human aspect of historical preservation of atrocities that must not be forgotten. The pitfalls of doing humanitarian work - the burnout of storytelling, atrocity pornography, imposing western beliefs on others - are captured fantastically in this pseudo-philosophical and sociological read. Not as engaging as Dawes other works, however; the concepts here pale in comparison to those revealed in Evil Men.
It sounds like a great book - how to bring attention to genocide and other crimes against humanity and what happens in the aftermath. But I just have not been able to get into it...
So thankful to have read this book. It gave me so much insight into my field and what I need to be aware of when making decisions about what trajectory I see for myself. I have yet to thank Dawes but he will be receiving an email from me sometime soon.
Anyone interested in human rights or the arts should read this book.
Dawes ponders the moral risks of witnessing atrocity, focusing on the perspectives of humanitarian aid workers and artists (photographers, writers, filmmakers, etc) whose jobs require that they witness torture and genocide. He focuses on the morality of storytelling - the problems inherent in both keeping silent and in speaking out about atrocities that are not one's own. The book is solidly and engagingly written, draws on a wide array of sources and interviews, and never flinches from asking difficult questions. In what ways do we do harm by witnessing and telling of these atrocities? In what ways do we help? And how do we weigh these consequences against one another?
This is a book that I would not hesitate to recommend to anyone, and will likely give to many people to read. Dawes discusses issues that should not be ignored by responsible artists and citizens.
An outstanding read on the nature of human rights and the atrocities that spawn them. Dawes spends a lot of time getting to understand humanitarian workers and why they do what they do. He also explores why their actions sometimes have unintended (or even the direct opposite) consequences of what they set out to accomplish. If you are at all interested in changing the world, read this book and see if you still want to attempt to do that. I'm not saying you shouldn't, but you should consider your goals carefully, as well as whether or not it really is assisting those you think are in need.
Really interesting idea about how the people in the humanitarian field deal with being witnesses of horrible tragedy, though I felt the author kept getting off the point.
Pretty gloomy, but it asks a lot of really good/difficult questions about much of the ethics involved in humanitarian work and storytelling etc. Definitely a good Macalester book.
Changed how I approach human rights work and my place as a young activist. Would say this book is necessary reading for any student studying human rights.
A concise, powerful, depressing book about how stories of human rights atrocities can and can't change the world, and about the responsibilities and burdens of the storytellers.