Do we call Trump a racist?
I've been reading a number of thought-provoking articles this week about the appropriateness of using the term "racist" to describe the president and/or his tweets.

In a thoughtful piece on NPR, Keith Woods recommends foregoing labels like "racist." He writes, "That's an alternative to labels: Report. Quote people. Cite sources. Add context. Leave the moral labeling to the people affected; to the opinion writers, the editorial writers, the preachers and philosophers; and to the public we serve."

In the other corner, Issac Bailey writes on Nieman Reports that journalists should use the term since we are in the business of calling things by their names. He said, "In a moment in which clarity is worth its weight in gold, media once again stumbled down the confused path when most Americans are desperately looking for some direction so they can figure out what the heck is going on and what the heck they should think and do about it. ‘Yes, this is what racism looks like,’ we should be screaming to them—not as an editorial opinion, but as a fact."

I frame this debate in terms of peace journalism, and the notion that journalists should lead substantive societal discussions without deepening divisions and falling into the “us vs. them” narratives that many politicians seek. In a previous column, I wrote about the inadvisability of using the term “concentration camp” to describe immigrant detention centers. I oppose this term because I think it further divides us, and makes discussion across political boundaries even more difficult. The same can be said about the term “racist.” When we call Trump racist, are we tarring his supporters with the same brush? And if we are, aren’t we making it more difficult to have an adult dialogue with them about important issues like race and immigration?

I prefer using phrases like, “a tweet widely considered racist” and “comments echoing those of racist segregationists of the 1950’s.” Point out the historical similarities between Trump and the George Wallaces of the world, and between Trump's language and that used by white supremacists, and let readers apply their own labels and judgments.

Horrifying photos sometimes necessary
“The first time I saw the picture, I looked away quickly, shocked. The second time I saw it, tears welled up in my eyes.”

While these words accurately describe my reaction to seeing the awful photo of Óscar Alberto

AP photo of area where Oscar and Valeria Ramirez were found.

Martínez Ramírez and his 23-month-old daughter, Valeria, whose bodies had washed up along the Rio Grande’s shores a few weeks ago, they were in fact written in 2015, and chronicled my reaction to the photo of Alyan Kurdi, a three-year-old Syrian refugee who drowned and washed ashore in Turkey.

Our humanity, and our journalistic principles, are continually being challenged by the plight of migrants. As journalists, we must incessantly, vigilantly question whether (and how) to use shocking, horrifying photos like these.

In hindsight, in Alyan’s case, the right thing may have been to publish the photo, which generated a mountain of both increased interest in and donations for Syrian refugees. For example, Reuters reported, “The average number of daily donations to a Syrian refugee fund run by the Swedish Red Cross rose 100-fold. Before the photo circulated, the charity received fewer than 1,000 donations in a day; afterwards, it rose to almost 14,000.”

Before any of this was known, Alyan’s photo ignited debates in newsrooms about the appropriateness of using the image. Robert Mackey, writing in the New York Times (September 25, 2015) said, "A number of reporters argued forcefully that is was necessary to confront the public with the human toll of the war in Syria, and the impact of policies that make it difficult for refugees to find asylum in Europe. But many editors were concerned about shocking their readers and wanted to avoid the appearance of trafficking in sensational images for profit."

Those same issues frame the debate about the Ramirez photo. On one hand, there’s an understandable desire to shock complacent readers about the grim reality on the U.S. southern border. On the other, there’s the concern about sensationalizing the story and exploiting its victims.

A strong case can be made for using the photo. “It’s irresponsible for a news organization to shield its audience from hard truths,” Kelly McBride wrote at Poynter.org. “…No matter what your political views on immigration are, the fact that so many children are suffering because of decisions made by the U.S. government is something every American should take note of.” 

The counter argument is primarily concerned about how the picture was used. The National Association of Hispanic Journalists (NAHJ) slammed the Associated Press for tweeting the Ramirez photo, which it called “exploitative and dehumanizing.” A NAHJ statement said it was especially egregious that it was used on Twitter, which means that users could just stumble upon the image which was “thrust into news feeds without discretion for the viewers or the migrant family the Associated Press exploited.” 

The NAHJ and McBride are both right.

If accuracy is our bedrock principle, then how can this tragedy be told without the photo? If responsible peace journalism gives voice to the voiceless, the photo is necessary to animate the tragedy of the Ramirez family and of the other 6,915 migrants who died along the border between 1998 and 2016. (https://www.nnirr.org/drupal/stopping-migrant-deaths )

That said, NAHJ’s is correct that slipping the Ramirez photo into people’s social media feeds without letting them decide if they want to see it is irresponsible. Many news outlets were more careful with the Ramirez photo.  “NPR didn't lead with photo, but website readers see the image as they scroll down…(Also), The Los Angeles Times didn’t use the image on its homepage, but it runs at the top of the story." (Poynter.org)

News organizations must first decide if photos like Alyan Kurdi and Oscar and Valeria Ramirez are needlessly sensational, or are instead necessary for a complete understanding of the story. Then, journalists must decide if the photo accurately reflects the story, or instead relies on or reinforces stereotypes, racism, sexism, or xenophobia. If the photo is accurate and necessary, then it should be used, though readers must be allowed to choose for themselves if they want to see it.

--For another interesting take on this, see: https://www.pri.org/stories/2019-06-26/what-difference-does-one-photo-make-lot-first-then-nothing