Seeing Beyond Fear: John Berger and the Humanity of Migrants
Open your news feed today, and a familiar, unsettling image appears: migrants portrayed as criminals, invaders, threats to society. Short clips and incendiary headlines frame these individuals as figures of disorder, stripped entirely of context, dignity, and humanity. They become mere symbols, presented in isolation, devoid of history, culture, or personal struggle.
Now consider a starkly different lens—a way of seeing introduced by John Berger, one of the most insightful cultural critics and writers of the 20th century. Berger, a writer, artist, and humanist thinker, dedicated his life to exploring how images and words shape our understanding of the world. Among his many influential works, A Seventh Man stands apart as a deeply empathetic and illuminating exploration of migrant workers in Europe. It is also one of my personal favorites for the way Berger combines narrative, philosophy, poetry, and photography into a singular form of compassionate storytelling.
Published in 1975, A Seventh Man does not simplify or sensationalize. Instead, Berger, together with photographer Jean Mohr, meticulously documents the lived experience of migrant laborers—those who left their villages in Turkey, Greece, North Africa, and beyond to perform hard, often dehumanizing work in European factories, mines, and construction sites. Berger does not shy away from depicting their struggles; he emphasizes the alienation of men torn from their homes and families, their dreams often reduced to the narrow space of remittance payments and brief moments of rest.
Yet Berger refuses to portray migrants merely as victims or threats. Instead, he elevates their stories, inviting readers to see the migrant as a complete human being, integral to the fabric of society. He challenges us to acknowledge their vital contributions and shared humanity, suggesting: “The migrant is not on the margins of modern life but at its center.” Through Berger’s writing and Mohr’s photography, we are encouraged not merely to observe, but to empathize deeply and authentically.
Berger matters profoundly in discussions of migration precisely because he helps us recognize what modern headlines fail to: migrants are neither criminals nor saints, neither heroes nor threats—they are human beings driven by circumstances, hopes, and struggles. His unique gift lies in his relentless insistence on seeing people not as types or statistics, but as stories—rich, layered, human stories, each deserving of dignity and thoughtful attention.
Today's widespread demonization of migrants in the media serves to strip them of these stories. It reduces them to abstractions meant to provoke fear, division, and political reaction. In contrast, Berger’s careful, compassionate storytelling offers us a different path. It urges us to reconnect migrants to the complexity of their lives—to recognize their labor, honor their dreams, and understand their displacement as deeply rooted in historical and economic realities.
In this era of fragmented narratives and manipulated media, Berger’s approach is more essential than ever. He would argue that the way we portray migrants is not just a moral choice but a profoundly political act. Choosing to present migrants with dignity and context humanizes not only them but also ourselves, forcing us to confront the inequalities and injustices shaping the modern world.
Ultimately, Berger teaches us that true understanding begins with looking more deeply, questioning more earnestly, and seeing more compassionately. Migrants are not the crisis—the real crisis is our failure of imagination and empathy. In Berger’s words, “To look is an act of choice.” Let us choose to look fully, carefully, and humanely.
JUST ONE MINUTE
ReplyDeleteYou open your feed.
Another clip.
A migrant. A fight. No context. Just fear.
The message? They’re dangerous.
The effect? Dehumanization.
Over and over, until you stop seeing a person—and start seeing a threat.
Now hold that up to John Berger.
Writer. Artist. Radical humanist.
He published A Seventh Man—a book about migrants.
Not criminals.
Not invaders.
But workers. Fathers. Dreamers.
Men who left home to survive.
Men we never really see.
Berger didn’t show headlines.
He showed hands, letters, memories.
He said: “The migrant is not on the margins. He is at the center of modern life.”
So the question isn’t:
Why are they coming here?
It’s:
Why do we keep looking away?