Colonel Gaddafi, the trophy corpse

It's good to show the reality of war, but there's something unsettling about our delight in graphic

The blood-soaked face of a still-warm corpse is the enduring image of the past 24 hours. That the face belonged to a vile tyrant is perhaps one reason why we're not as squeamish about this particular death as we have been about others.

Almost all national newspapers today lead with the photo of a dead man's head. Some crop out the smiling militiamen having their photo taken with the body of Muammar Gaddafi; some news channels have opted out of showing the most bloody footage of all. But the likelihood is that most of us with a passing interest in the news will have seen the corpse at some point. I began to feel a little sickened by its near-constant presence on my screens, and I'm not easily shocked.

As I wrote before about the death of Osama Bin Laden, we live in a 'pics or it didn't happen' era, where we don't trust the word of broadcasters and want to see for ourselves. The worldwide web has opened up a place where there aren't the familiar boundaries and standards there used to be, where punters can readily access material that might once have been deemed unsuitable; and the historic importance of the Gaddafi photos and footage could be considered ample justification for the rather shocking nature of the sights we've seen. It is, after all, what happened.

In one sense, it's good to show the reality of war. Our eyes are often shielded by news broadcasters during those times when 'our boys' get involved in scrapes overseas; the inevitable bloodshed doesn't get transmitted at teatime for fear of upsetting children and adults alike. There are countless graphic images of charred corpses, dangling intestines and splintered scarlet skulls that we don't get to see, which might make us shift on our settees a little and possibly bring home the graphic truth of what happens in the theatre of battle.

Maybe we shouldn't be shielded, and maybe we should be shown. This is, after all, what is happening at the behest of our elected politicians. Maybe we should see how our tax pounds are being spent with every shuddering cadaver oozing life by the roadside or twisted carnage of blood and bone that used to be human beings. It could be that we have a rather sanitised picture of war and its consequences, because we see the flag-draped coffins rather than the broken pieces of flesh inside.

Maybe every time politicians bask in the glory of their 'tough decisions' and 'strong leadership' with regards to successful military intervention, their words should play out over scenes of the lost lives - 'our' troops, as well as those killed by 'our' troops - who paid the biggest price of all. No looking away, no changing the channel; this is how things really are.

Are we ready for that? Well, we're less sensitive than we used to be, in the days when other people used to decide what was too graphic to show us and what wasn't, when the nanny broadcasters had to make choices for us. Now we can set our own boundaries of what's acceptable and what isn't. It's all out there, on the net - videos of executions, suicides, car crashes, murders and assorted accidents, all in jerky pixellated shades of crimson; mortuary slab photos of the famous and infamous; ghoulishly detailed descriptions of death and dying to feed our morbid fascination.

But there's another aspect to the Gaddafi story that doesn't sit as easily with me as the other reasons why news outlets have been happy to splash the blood this time around. There's something primeval almost, something rather unsettling, about the trophy-like nature of Gaddafi's corpse, regardless of how horrific a human being he undoubtedly was, and regardless of the suffering and death he unleashed upon his subjects. Perhaps we are in danger of revelling in this violent act, in delighting in the grisly episode a little too much.

In a week when the Sun has been under fire, in parliament and elsewhere, for what it printed in the aftermath of the Hillsborough disaster, today's front page also looks back in time, to 1988. THAT'S FOR LOCKERBIE, it roars, alongside the now familiar grainy still of Gaddafi's bloodied and battered dead face. It wasn't really for Lockerbie, of course; there are many more reasons why Gaddafi was killed by Libyans than that.

But there's a sense in which the Sun, among many others, is enjoying the kill, sensing the bloodlust and tapping the same old jingoistic responses from its readers. You might cynically wonder if the same newspapers happily printing snuff photos will be pretending to clutch the pearls in a few days' time, worried about children being exposed to sex on TV, or putting asterisks in words it doesn't think its readers should see, for fear of the little lambs being corrupted. Ah, but that will be another day, another time.

There's no doubting that the image of lifeless, humiliated Gaddafi is a powerful one - powerful enough to be used to further all kinds of agendas. Maybe it's those agendas we should be more squeamish about. Dead bodies are just facts.

Patrolling the murkier waters of the mainstream media
Getty
Show Hide image

What “Dutch Justin Trudeau” Jesse Klaver can teach the British left

The young Dutch politician is organised, photogenic - and optimistic. 

The first surprising thing about Jesse Klaver, is how in one night he overtook the established left to become the leader of the biggest left-wing party in the Netherlands. The second is that few in the UK’s green and alternative left scene seem to have previously heard of him (When I phoned round to ask the response was a combination of “Not very much”, “Only what I read in the headlines", “I’m really not the best person to ask.”)

With floppy black curls and a sideways smile, international election spectators quickly dubbed their progressive hero “the Dutch Justin Trudeau”. Asked about the comparison with the photogenic Canadian Prime Minister, the 30-year-old Klaver quipped: “I’m very jealous of Trudeau’s muscles.”

But when it comes to the heavy lifting of party politics, Klaver has already revealed a hidden strength. The party he leads, GroenLinks (GreenLeft), was formidable in the 1990s and mid noughties, but spent the rest of the decade on the ropes. (One such low point was the resignation of GreenLeft politician Wijnand Duyvendak in 2008, after it emerged he had burgled the Ministry of Economic Affairs in 1985 to steal documents on nuclear power).

Amid this political gloom, Klaver was a rare rising star. In 2009, at just 23, he was leading a trade unionist youth organisation. The following year, he stood for election to the House of Representatives as a GreenLeft candidate and won. There, his attacks on bank bonus culture led one journalist to dismiss him as “snot”.

Within two years, though, Klaver would earn a new nickname – the Jessiah. After becoming leader of the GreenLeft in 2015, he looked westward across the Atlantic at the groundbreaking electoral tactics of Barack Obama, and hired the services of the company founded by the former US President’s digital strategist, Blue State Digital. His pledges include investing in renewable energy, sustainable agriculture and an embrace of international co-operation. 

The party soon was holding meet ups, attracting donations and recruiting new members – roughly 27 per cent of the party joined under Klaver’s leadership. His Facebook page has 110,256 Likes.

In embracing these tactics, of course, Klaver is not alone among Europeans on the left. More than 800,000 people like Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn’s page, while his grassroots group Momentum has more than 150 local groups. Unfortunately for Corbyn, this impressive 21st century organising has not delivered electorally (ask the Labour candidates in Copeland and Richmond Park).

The obvious difference between Klaver and the beleaguered Labour leader is the electoral system. Proportional representation allows smaller parties far greater clout in parliament, not to mention the flexibility to remake themselves. Indeed, Klaver's parliamentary haul was bittersweet for the left as a whole, as the Dutch Labour party had a catastrophic night. (In First Past The Post Canada, Trudeau heads up the established Liberal party).

But there is something more. In Scotland, where there is a form of proportional representation, the “green left” vote is split between a pro-independence Green party, the Scottish National Party, and a beaten down Labour party. In England, Labour is desperately trying to straddle the Leave and Remain camps after the EU referendum.

Klaver, on the other hand, has managed to roll up his shirt sleeves and deliver a credible, positive message without pandering to the far-right populist instincts embodied by Geert Wilders. A millennial whose ancestry includes Moroccan and Indonesian descent, he is unashamed about his embrace of the 21st century at a time when the older generations are doggedly nostalgic.

Now, as Dutch parties enter talks to form a government, he could be in reach of real power. Progressives on this side of the Channel may still be catching up with him but, as with Trudeau, in the absence of a UK figurehead, he will no doubt soon command a faithful British following. 

Julia Rampen is the editor of The Staggers, The New Statesman's online rolling politics blog. She was previously deputy editor at Mirror Money Online and has worked as a financial journalist for several trade magazines.