The reason why god permits so much suffering in the world is because he’s usually not conscious of what he’s doing.
Carl Jung was the first person to articulate this idea, in his 1952 book, “Answer to Job”. In order to better appreciate Jung’s paradigm, it should be noted that the Swiss psychiatrist viewed god, or Yahweh, as a metaphor for the human unconscious.
I thought about this recently after re-reading Susan Sontag’s “On Photography” and her 2003 sequel, “Regarding the Pain of Others”. Sontag’s essays on photography have helped me to better understand, or rather, to better feel, the very surreal and completely subjective psychological relationship between the individual photographer/creator, the subject, the viewer of the finished image, and the image’s ultimate perceived meaning or emotional effect. Photographic images are by their nature completely subjective works of art, and accordingly should not be intended, or pretended, to depict reality (assuming it’s even possible to define reality at all.) Jung’s analysis in “Answer to Job” reminds us that photographers aren’t always conscious of what they’re doing throughout the creative process.
One of Sontag’s most perceptive and memorable observations in “On Photography” concerns her depiction of “photojournalists” and their tendency to avoid, or remove themselves, from any moral responsibility to intervene when recording images of human suffering or violence. This disassociation can occur, for example, when a photographer witnesses one human being inflicting harm on another. Instead of taking action to help the victim, the photographer convinces himself, or herself, that their professional duty or subjective role as an “observer” takes precedent over conscience, compassion, or moral responsibility. As an example, think about of all those photographers in Paris who took pictures of Princess Diana as she lay bleeding in her car, or the photographers who, over the past few weeks, have taken photos of wildlife drenched in oil, the result of the BP/Deepwater Horizon drilling rig explosion in the Gulf of Mexico.
Another of Sontag’s conclusions– and ultimate thesis– is that the photographic process is based on manipulation, intentionally or not. I agree, but I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing. To Sontag, however, this revelation evokes moral outrage and hostility. At the risk of engaging in psychoanalysis, my own view is that her strong emotional reaction is likely an indication of her own complexes and insecurities regarding the issue of manipulation. In truth, all art is manipulation, to the extent that “manipulation” is a synonym for the creative process.
Sontag’s ideè fixe emerges once again in her essay “Regarding the Pain of Others”, the last book she ever published prior to her death in 2004. Her focus here is on the psychological and political consequences of the widespread dissemination of images that show, or are intended to show, the carnage and brutality of war. As Sontag correctly points out, the photographer, subject, viewer, and the image itself enter into a subjective relationship in which the ultimate emotional reaction of the viewer is usually not the one that was intended by the author or distributor of the photograph. Writer Stephen F. Eisenman provides us with an excellent analysis of this concept in his 2007 book, “The Abu Ghraib Effect”.
The impossibility for a photograph to depict any type of “objective reality” is, for me, one of the most fascinating aspects of taking an active part in the photographic process. Whether the construction of the image’s message is intentional or the result of an unconscious act does not matter. Its value, meaning, content, and emotional or cognitive effect will likely be lost in translation, depending on the attitude, psyche, and social conditioning of the intended viewer or audience. Sort of like good poetry.
This post was updated on June 21, 2010.
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