Nigella Lawson pictures: We must not look away from domestic violence, but we can do more than just gawp

The photographs of Nigella Lawson in the Sunday People are undoubtedly shocking - but do they really "raise awareness", or is the victim, already, being neglected and ignored?

It’s the domestic part that gives domestic violence its particular horror: private brutality concealed within the public bonds of affection, intimate terror exposed in visible wounds and court reporting. It’s often hard to see from the outside, and hard to speak of from the inside. All of us, after all, are entitled to our private selves as well as our public version. How much harder to give yourself up when the self you reveal is the victim of another’s violence – and you are liable to be punished for the revelation.

One of the triumphs of feminism has been to break that tyranny of privacy. We no longer accept that violence within a relationship is protected by a sacred bond between abuser and abused. It’s a recent change, though: the Court of Appeal only established the right of a woman not to be raped by her husband in 1991. And so perhaps I should welcome anything that breaches the stigma around domestic violence – including the pictures in today’s Sunday People that appear to show Charles Saatchi attacking his wife Nigella Lawson in public.

I don’t, though. The reporting makes me very unhappy. That’s not to say I consider The People wrong to report this at all: there’s a case for public interest here that goes beyond a prurient anticipation of what the public will be interested in (and Saatchi and Lawson are certainly interesting people), and into the perhaps more laudable realm of “raising awareness”. Domestic violence should not be protected by taboos, and maybe suppressing these images would have meant concealing a crime.

But it’s the nature of these images that disturbs me, both how they were obtained and how they were released. The pictures appear to be paparazzi shots – and there’s no controversy there given that they capture adults in a public place, and that they appear to show an act to which no expectation of privacy can apply. But there is no sign in the attached copy that the photographer made any effort to ensure Lawson’s safety before clicking the trigger. 

In fact, none of the onlookers quoted by the paper (who, we are inevitably told, found the incident “shocking”) mentions calling the police. They seem to have simply … looked. This is not OK. I’m not suggesting that anyone there should have directly intervened, but in that situation it’s not good enough to observe alone: you should be there as a human being first and a camera second, and as a human being your first responsibility is to check that help has been called, and call it yourself if necessary.

Your second responsibility as a human being comes after you’ve got the pictures and when you’re thinking about publishing: this time, it’s to make sure that the victim is happy for you to tell her story. Lawson hasn’t given a statement on the incident so we can only assume that she hasn’t been party to the reporting. And perhaps if she’d been asked, she would have refused and the story would have been lost.

But how much richer, more truthful and more humane reporting can be when a journalist exercises a little responsibility for their subject. In 2012, photographer Sara Naomi Lewkowicz accidentally found herself covering a case of domestic violence. She had thought her story was about a released prisoner adjusting to his freedom; but when Shane, her subject, attacked his girlfriend Maggie, that changed. 

Lewkowicz’s first thought was for Maggie: “After I confirmed one of the housemates had called the police, I then continued to document the abuse,” she writes. And since the incident, she’s continued to work with Maggie in chronicling the aftermath of the abuse: “Maggie asked me to move forward with this project and to tell her story, because she feels the photographs might be able to help someone else.” 

In her photographs of Maggie, Lewkowicz catches the subtle patterns of abuse: the isolation, the explosions, the apologies that win the abuser one more chance, and the hope of survival and escape too as Lewkowicz follows Maggie into her future. By contrast, in the People’s front page, we simply have a woman who looks frightened and humiliated, being further humiliated again by the crass tabloidese that surrounds her. “Boiling point”? “Bust up”? “More shocking pictures”? This is not the language of compassion and care. 

We must not look away from domestic violence, but when we look, let us see a whole person, not just the instant of victimhood presented on the front page of a newspaper. And then, when we see the whole person, we must feel the urge to do more than just look: we must offer kindness and dignity too, instead of gawping.

It's not wrong to report domestic violence, but did anyone attempt to stop it? Photograph: Getty Images.

Sarah Ditum is a journalist who writes regularly for the Guardian, New Statesman and others. Her website is here.

Photo: Getty
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On Brexit, David Cameron knows exactly what he's doing

It's not a dead cat - it's about disarming the Leave campaign. 

If you’re explaining, you’re losing. That’s the calculation behind David Cameron’s latest entry into the In-Out (or Remain-Leave in new money) battle. The Prime Minister has warned that were Britain to leave the European Union, the migrant camp at Calais – popularly known as “the Jungle” – could move to Britain. But Eurosceptic campaigners have angrily denounced the remarks, saying that there’s little chance of it happening either way.  

Who’s right? My colleague Henry Zeffman has written a handy explainer of the ins and outs of the row, but the short version is: the Eurosceptic campaigners are broadly right.

But the remarks are very far from a gaffe by Downing Street or Cameron, and they aren’t a “dead cat” strategy – where you say something offensive, prompting a debate about that instead of another, trickier issue – either.

Campaigners for Remain have long been aware that immigration remains their glass jaw. The line wheeled out by Cameron has been long-planned. Late last year, senior members of the In campaign discussed what they saw as the danger points for the campaign. The first was a renegotiation that managed to roll back workplace rights, imperilling the support of the Labour party and the trade unions was one – happily avoided by Cameron’s piecemeal deal.

That the deal would be raked over in the press is not considered a risk point. Stronger In has long known that its path to victory does not run through a sympathetic media. The expectation has long been that even substantial concessions would doubtless have been denounced by the Mail, Telegraph and Sun – and no-one seriously expected that Cameron would emerge with a transformative deal. Since well before the general election, the Prime Minister has been gradually scaling back his demands. The aim has always been to secure as many concessions as possible in order to get an In vote – but Downing Street’s focus has always been on the “as possible” part rather than the “securing concessions” bit.

Today’s row isn’t about deflecting attention from a less-than-stellar deal, but about defanging another “risk point” for the In campaign: border control.

Campaign strategists believe they can throw the issue into neutral by casting doubt on Leave’s ability to control borders any better. One top aide said: “Our line is this: if we vote to leave, the border moves from Calais to Dover, it’s that simple.” They are also keen to make more of the fact that Norway has equally high levels of migration from the European Union as the United Kingdom. While In will never “own” the issue of immigration, they believe they can make the battle sufficiently murky that voters will turn to the areas that favour a Remain vote – national security, economic stability, and keeping people in their jobs.

What the row exposes, rather than a Prime Minister under pressure is a politician who knows exactly what he’s doing – and just how vulnerable the lack of a serious heavyweight at the top makes the Leave campaign(s). Most people won't make a judgement based on reading up the minutinae of European treaties, but on a "sniff test" of which side they think is more trustworthy. It's not a fight about the facts - it's a fight about who is more trusted by the public: David Cameron, or Iain Duncan Smith, Chris Grayling or Priti Patel? As one minister said to me: "I like Priti, but the idea that she can go against the PM as far as voters are concerned is ridiculous. Most people haven't heard of her." 

Leave finds itself in a position uncomfortably like that of Labour in the run-up to the election: with Cameron able to paint himself as the only option guaranteeing stability, against a chaotic and muddled alternative. Without a politician, a business figure or even a prominent celebrity who can provide credibility on the level of the Prime Minister, any row about whether or not Brexit increases the chances of more migrants on Britain’s doorsteps helps Remain – and Cameron. 

Stephen Bush is editor of the Staggers, the New Statesman’s political blog. He usually writes about politics.