Tag Archives: danger

Fight or Flight (or Record?)

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Psychologists, social scientists and researchers of the human brain have long maintained that we have three typical responses to an existential, usually physical, threat. First, we may stand our ground to tackle and fight the threat. Second, we may turn and run from danger. Third, we may simply freeze with indecision and inaction. These responses have been studied, documented and confirmed over the decades. Further, they tend to mirror those of other animals when faced with a life-threatening situation.

But, now that humans have entered the smartphone age, it appears that there is a fourth response — to film or record the threat. This may seem hard to believe and foolhardy, but quite disturbingly it’s is a growing trend, especially among younger people.

From the Telegraph:

If you witnessed a violent attack on an innocent victim, would you:

a) help
b) run
c) freeze

Until now, that was the hypothetical question we all asked ourselves when reading about horrific events such as terror attacks.

What survival instinct would come most naturally? Fight or flight?

No longer. Over the last couple of years it’s become very obvious that there’s a fourth option:

d) record it all on your smartphone.

This reaction of filming traumatic events has become more prolific in recent weeks. Last month’s terror attacks in Paris saw mobile phone footage of people being shot, photos of bodies lying in the street, and perhaps most memorably, a pregnant woman clinging onto a window ledge.

Saturday [December 5, 2015] night saw another example when a terror suspect started attacking passengers on the Tube at Leytonstone Station. Most of the horrific incident was captured on video, as people stood filming him.

One brave man, 33-year-old engineer David Pethers, tried to fight the attacker. He ended up with a cut to the neck as he tried to protect passing children. But while he was intervening, others just held up their phones.

“There were so many opportunities where someone could have grabbed him,” he told the Daily Mail. “One guy came up to me afterwards and said ‘well done, I want to shake your hand, you are the only one who did anything, I got the whole thing on film.’

“I was so angry, I nearly turned on him but I walked away. I though, ‘Are you crazy? You are standing there filming and did nothing.’ I was really angry afterwards.”

It’s hard to disagree. Most of us know heroism is rare and admirable. We can easily understand people trying to escape and save themselves, or even freezing in the face of terror.

But deliberately doing nothing and choosing to film the whole thing? That’s a lot harder to sympathise with.

Psychotherapist Richard Reid agrees – “the sensible option would be to think about your own safety and get out, or think about helping people” – but he says it’s important we understand this new reaction.

“Because events like terror attacks are so outside our experience, people don’t fully connect with it,” he explains.

“It’s like they’re watching a film. It doesn’t occur to them they could be in danger or they could be helping. The reality only sinks in after the event. It’s a natural phenomenon. It’s not necessarily the most useful response, but we have to accept it.”

Read the entire story here.

Image courtesy of Google Search.

We Are Part Selfie, Part Voyeur

I would take issue with the Atlantic’s story below: citizen journalist as documentarian. Without doubt filming someone in danger or emergency and then posting the video on YouTube does certainly add an in-the-moment authenticity. The news event becomes more personal, more identifiable. Yet it is more troubling than positive. It removes us directly from the event, turning us all into passive observers. And in legitimizing the role of the observer — through pageviews, likes and re-tweets — it lessens the impetus to participate actively, to assist and to help. Selfie replaces selflessness.

From the Atlantic:

Yesterday, as a five-alarm fire engulfed a new apartment complex in Houston, a construction worker found himself in pretty much the last place he’d want to: trapped on a ledge, feet from the flames. As he waited, helplessly, to be rescued, others waited with him. The construction site was across the street from an office building, and workers flocked to the windows to see the drama unfold. One of them filmed it. You can see some of their images reflected in the video that resulted, above.

Things ended as well as they could have for the trapped man; he escaped, and no injuries were reported as a result of the fire. In the video, the scene playing out on that ledge vaguely foreshadows this outcome: The person whose life is in danger—who is standing, trapped, as flames lick at the walls next to him—seems relatively calm.

What we hear, instead, is the commentary—the exchanges of people who are watching the scene unfold from a safe distance. And that commentary is … banal. Deeply (and almost profoundly) so. In the same way that your commentary, or mine, might well be were we watching the same scene. Here are some of the sentiments expressed by the onlookers of this terrifyingly unfolding drama:

“OMG.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“This guy is on the frickin’ ledge.”

“He can’t get out, ‘cuz he can’t get out the door.”

This is not to criticize the people watching the scene unfold—the people whose commentary, almost literally, upstages the drama of the burning building and the man trapped on its ledge. Again, my own comments, on witnessing the same scene, would probably sound similar. (Though I do like to flatter myself that I’d save the “cheap apartment” hilarity until after the threat of a man being burned alive had officially ended.)

It’s worth noting, though, what the real estate humor here hints at: the chaos of tragedy as it’s experienced by real people, in real time. The confusion that is so aptly captured by a video like this, shot on a smartphone and posted to YouTube. The same kind of caught chaos we saw with that fertilizer plant in Texas. And with that asteroid exploding in the skies above Russia. And with, for that matter, the Hindenburg disaster.

Compare those ad hoc representations of tragedy to our more traditional ways of knowing tragedy as an aesthetic, and video-taped, reality: through moving images provided by TV news, by Hollywood, by professionals who are trained to keep their mouths shut. On YouTube, as shot by amateurs on the scene, our experience of disaster instead features a Greek chorus of “OMGs” and “Unbelievables.” More and more of our portrays of catastrophe—and of the dramas that prevent catastrophe—are now mediated in this way: by other people. People who are shocked and scared and empathetic and, in the best and worst of ways, unthinking. People who, even if they tried, couldn’t keep quiet.

Read the entire story here.