Jason Felch and Bastien Varoutsikos write about the collision of iconoclasm and clickbait that creates a powerful propaganda machine for Daesh and potentially other terrorist groups around the world. They point to the way that the very people seeking to draw attention to the cultural desecration to mobilise resources to stop it, are sometimes unwittingly becoming complicit in the process of spreading terror.
The way social media with its memes and viral communications, and online publishing works, accentuates this danger. Clickbait refers to online content, typically video or images of a sensational or provocative nature, whose purpose is to attract attention and through curiosity, or some emotional hook, persuade people to click through to a new website, and enter a new narrative. In the case of Daesh propaganda for spreading fear, glamorizing the cause and recruiting.
Felch and Varoutsikos raise the challenge to the media of how best ‘to cover iconoclasm without becoming complicit in their crimes by spreading Isil propaganda uncritically, especially on social media’.
For those whose job is to report and document the destruction, such a challenge requires a careful self reflection. It is not unlike the publication of Peter Uvin’s book in 1998 on the Rwandan Genocide called ‘Aiding Violence’ and Mary Anderson’s book ‘Do No Harm’ which caused aid workers to stop and consider the often unintended consequences of seeking to ameliorate suffering amongst communities affected by violent conflict. Anderson highlighted how aid ‘too often also feeds into, reinforces and prolongs conflict’.
Felch and Varoutsikos map out a way forward for those concerned with heritage stewardship:
‘We must cover iconoclasm without becoming complicit in their crimes by spreading Isil propaganda uncritically, especially on social media. When we do use their images, we should clearly label them as propaganda, not treat them as news images. And as tragic as the loss of historical sites like Palmyra may be, we should not let it outshine the plight of Syrian civilians.
We have a model for this path: it was done successfully after Isil began broadcasting videos of hostage beheadings. After the killing of American journalist James Foley spread across the internet in August 2014, media organisations, experts, social media companies and the general public voluntarily stopped the spread of subsequent beheading videos. They soon lost their power for Isil. By January 2015, with its propaganda efforts flagging, Isil abandoned the staged executions and began its campaign of spectacular destruction of archaeological sites. Those in turn stopped when Isil launched coordinated terror attacks first in Paris and now Brussels. Looking back, we should have been as reluctant to spread images of the choreographed destruction of heritage as we were of humans.’
When Uvin and Anderson were writing their respective books, a leading humanitarian commentator, Prof Tim Allen, wrote:
‘there was ample evidence that the Quixotic altruism of international aid workers in internal wars was less a real solution to the suffering of traumatized populations, and more a response to demands for action among electorates in rich countries who had been disturbed by the media coverage.’
With the images of the destruction of Palmyra splashed across Facebook pages, there quickly followed a replica triumphal arch erected in Central London. A little later there were the launch of a number of bilateral cultural protection funds. It is crucial that these funds go beyond the symbolic, and ensure a more lasting legacy of greater connection between the communities and their heritage as well as where possible seeing heritage as a bridge to peace. But when identities are contested and people’s survival is at stake, how can one ensure that heritage really is a bridge to peace rather than an object whose destruction is part of the waging of war and the proliferation of terrorism?
In conflict zones the protection of heritage sites is complex. Heritage programs must be sensitive to security and humanitarian concerns, and require the development of a coherent narrative that addresses the needs and aspirations of local societies in distress. There is much that can be learnt from the humanitarian community about the crucial differences of working in and on conflict where the latter sees any intervention as seeking to ameliorate the underlying dynamics that drive and fuel the conflict.
An appropriately designed heritage protection and preservation program should complement and enhance a straightforward humanitarian, governance and economic development response.
A key challenge is to ensure heritage stewardship integrates a community based approach to heritage protection, building on the insights from the humanitarian community of working in conflict affected regions and the approaches that have the potential to enhance the economic well-being of communities, re-connect local societies with their historical roots and antiquities and transform cultural protection.
Even in communities experiencing extreme distress, there are many examples of extraordinary individuals using their traditional skills and knowledge to preserve a space free of war, and build sensitivities within youth growing up with war as their primary reference. To succeed, preserving heritage must be framed around community priorities and build on the actions of these individuals in their communities.
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