Why Is Britain So Defensive Over Its White Saviour Complex?
Comic Relief was founded in 1985 as a humanitarian response to the Ethiopian Famine. Over 30 years later the charity has been able to raise 1 billion pounds, however, it continues to be recognised as a problematic lovechild of Britain’s colonial history. Wikipedia notes the charity’s formal controversies include issues with gender equality, inappropriate sexual references and rude language. I was surprised that “misrepresentations and fetishisation of the African continent” did not have its own section under these controversies.
Unsurprisingly, Labour MP David Lammy recently vocalised this particular frustration with the charity’s depiction of the African continent and its populace through Twitter. What truly surprised me was the backlash he received from his basic observation of Comic Relief’s use of the “white saviour” trope. As opinion articles pumped out faster than you could offend someone by using the description “white”, it dawned on me that the debate in favour for white saviourism is riddled with people painfully missing the point of Lammy’s frustrations. Many would question how anyone could defend these deeply inappropriate, demeaning and inherently outdated colonial representations but as I tried to unravel the complexities of this debate, I realised the misconceptions that lead to offense is because this is a unique context for humanitarian aid, it is uniquely British.
Britain has a long history with humanitarianism, particularly trendy aid campaigns that advocate to alleviate suffering, poverty and supposedly defend human rights and dignity around the world. An article notes that ‘from its origins in religious missions, anti-slavery campaigning and wartime relief, humanitarianism and international aid has been an important and enduring presence in the landscape of modern Britain’. It perfectly summarises Britain’s humanitarianism as reminiscent of ‘civilising missions’ — despite the empire being over, its imperial burdens did not just melt away. Instead, it has been absorbed into the greater British consciousness, embracing its place and influence in the international community; one as a giver of aid. Thus, we can understand this paradigm of British identity within the realm of international and transnational humanitarian organisations as one that has ‘been fundamentally shaped by the ongoing legacy of British colonialism and decolonisation’.
This landscape of modern British humanitarianism has undeniably been successful due to its use of ‘partnerships’ with entertainers. Organisations like Comic Relief have been able to flourish because it uses celebrities to use their platforms to fundraise for their campaign. At its core, these campaigns and the disturbing and dehumanising images they peddle are a form of entertainment because this is how they are able to guilt, sorry, successfully rally the British public into generously donating to their cause — by entertaining them. The “celebritisation” of development coupled with the poverty porn of communities in Africa regurgitates the colonial dichotomy of rich westerners “saving” the poor Other. Condescending narratives of white saviourism has been collectively accepted by the public and media institutions because it is understood as necessary for the greater good. This is why people are unable to see past Lammy’s critiques, they only see them as a critique on their collective humanitarian identity, a colonial, problematic ‘white’ one.
Reni Eddo-Lodge famously criticises this inability for white people to discuss race within the social and political spectrum. She notes in her book Why I’m No Longer Talking To White People About Race that the ‘the politics of whiteness transcends the colour of anyone’s skin. It is a political ideology that is concerned with maintaining power through domination and exclusion’. She questions why it is so difficult for people to understand ‘whiteness’ as a political structure. Gal-dem states that ‘skin colour mattered for the thousands of years of slavery and oppression, and it matters now — when the poverty porn created by charities like Comic Relief focus on a white saviour narrative where celebrities flock to the continent annually to cry on-screen and feel a bit better about themselves.’ The fundamental characteristic of Britain’s relationship with race and identity politics is one that does not see colour, but how can we deny this when we host an annual entertainment event where we are bombarded with images and videos of starving children and their suffering mothers. How can we not see colour? it is the only colour that has been imprinted in Britain’s consciousness and their perceptions of the Other, the colour of ‘Africa’.
Gal-Dem rightfully notes that ‘Stacey Dooley completely dismissing her role in societal impact is surprising for a documentary maker. She is quick to point out good intention, but if we face any issue in society, we have to first realise that an individual’s conscious intentions don’t trump wider societal effects’…‘Comic Relief churns out a mono-image of a continent on its knees and completely divorces that from the abhorrent actions of the West, instead, it paints the West as the only lifeline for a helpless wasteland.’
Journalism on the Lammy vs Comic Relief palaver has varied from valuable to downright unhelpful and unnecessary. What is exhausting to explain is that Lammy nor anyone who shares his concerns is suggesting that the money raised by Comic Relief is unwelcomed, but that there are ways to ‘help developing countries that do not involve fetishising human suffering or ignoring our country’s complicity in their plight.’ Britain has embraced its post-colonial obligation and this is why Britons are so defensive over their humanitarian aid campaigns and their white saviourism because it is so deeply ingrained in their history and their identity as a nation. However, this doesn’t make it any less problematic. Lammy writes that Comic Relief has the opportunity to deal with the nuances and that ‘it can afford to talk about solutions beyond mosquito nets, food parcels and digging wells’.
This warped understanding of humanitarianism is cyclical unless it is called out, no, ripped out, and replaced with something better. As Lammy said, Comic Relief ‘enjoys a privileged position in our national life: millions participate in fundraising and tune in. So the organisers have a unique opportunity: but with this comes responsibility. Watching celebrities on television and donating is not a way to understand nor support diversity, we must advocate for radical approaches that attempt to challenge the complexities of tackling poverty rather than simply throwing money at the problem. ‘Many high-profile calls for the West to confront the legacy of its imperial past — a sanitised and white-centred attitude towards racism and the developing world remains widespread.’ To continue to justify that we cannot follow through with our beloved identity as a nation that gives, that we are incapable of implementing sustainable structures of change that uphold the dignity of those we aim to serve, and that we are not able to be generous human beings without exploiting the suffering of the subaltern is what offends me. And that should offend you.
Article by Social Media & Content Manager Yaz Omran
Originally published on www.verveup.com
