Forty years ago, a BBC news report shook the world – and kickstarted white saviourism

By October 1984, drought and conflict in a remote part of northern Ethiopia had left millions on the brink of starvation, writes Ava Vidal. The BBC sent Michael Buerk to report on the emerging catastrophe. What happened next sparked a movement that wasn’t always welcome...

Journalist Michael Buerk visited Ethiopia in 1984 to report on the famine (British Pathe/YouTube)

It is 40 years since the “report that shook the world” – the Six O’Clock News bulletin about the famine in Ethiopia that triggered a humanitarian effort unlike any other.

By October 1984, drought and conflict in a remote part of northern Ethiopia had left millions on the brink of starvation. The BBC sent Michael Buerk to report on the emerging catastrophe.

As Britain tucked into its tea, we witnessed the most appalling images of starving people – children with protruding ribcages, women trying to feed their babies from dry breasts, people simply too weak to swat away the flies landing on their faces.

Against this horrific footage of the dead and dying, Buerk intoned: “Dawn... and as the sun breaks through the piercing chill of night on the plain outside Korem, it lights up a biblical famine, now, in the 20th century...”

It was a landmark moment in TV journalism – and its impact on the viewing public was immediate. By the end of the year, a charity single, “Do They Know It’s Christmas” – recorded in a single day by leading pop luminaries (and Phil Collins) – had sold more than 3 million copies, with every penny going to Ethiopian famine relief.

It would eventually raise £8m – but not before it had paved the way for an even bigger charitable effort: Live Aid, the 16-hour music marathon organised by Bob Geldof that was beamed live to 1.5 billion people worldwide.

And yet, four decades on, the BBC news report that pricked the world’s conscience and kickstarted this unprecedented relief effort (as well as institutions such as Comic Relief and Red Nose Day) will strike today’s viewers as hyperbolic at best, cringeworthy at worst.

I don’t just mean Buerk’s description of the famine “as almost biblical in its intensity – unbearable, and the closest thing to hell on Earth”. To describe starvation in such terms suggests that blame can be attributed to those caught up in it, plagues only being visited upon people who have offended God.

It isn’t just that the news report hasn’t aged well – showing emaciated Black people who needed to be saved by the benevolence of white people could be the dictionary definition of “problematic” – but that the entire charitable juggernaut is shot through with what we now know as white saviourism.

Where to begin? How about the lyrics of that song? Ethiopia is home to one of the oldest Christian communities in the world; 68 per cent of the population is Christian. The very idea that they didn’t know about Christmas was both ignorant and insulting.

Referring to Africa, a vast continent, as though it is one country – one where “the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears”, “where nothing ever grows, no rain or rivers flow” – could be classed as a basic schoolboy error or a hate crime, depending on how benevolent or otherwise you feel.

It is easy to get caught up in the nostalgia for what was an era-defining moment for eighties youth culture. Our favourite stars – the Durans! the Spandaus! – set aside their differences to record a charity single. Live Aid organiser Geldof swore on live TV. It was all so new and exciting. Such a time to be alive.

I remember how excited I was seeing so many stars in the studio together for the “Do They Know It’s Christmas” video, an ensemble that included Paul Young, Boy George, and the man I was convinced I would grow up and marry, George Michael. My friends and I would divide up the lyrics, line by line, and I would strain my larynx to screech: “And there won’t be snow in Africa this Christmastime.” No one noticed the ice cap on top of Kilimanjaro, then?

In 2014, when a new version was recorded, rapper Fuse ODG, who is of Ghanaian heritage, turned down a request to appear on it, explaining that the lyrics don’t reflect what Africa truly is. The stereotypes perpetuated by Band Aid have prevailed.

I once watched a compere in a comedy club I was working at speaking to a young Black couple who told him that, before the show, they’d been out to dinner. Without missing a beat, he asked if their food had been served in a package thrown from an aeroplane. There were gasps and awkward muffled laughter throughout the audience.

I am from a Caribbean background, but I have friends from an African background who were so hurt by the stereotypes that, growing up, they sometimes pretended to be Caribbean.

While I was performing on a BBC comedy show in Ireland, an audience member brought up the fact that in his classroom at school, they had a big, glass collection jar labelled “Black Babies”. He explained how his teacher would encourage pupils to raise money for them. Quite who these “Black Babies” were, nobody in the audience seemed to know, despite all having grown up with such jars in their own classrooms.

I asked if they might like to pass around a jar so I could take the money home to my Black babies, but this fantastic idea was declined.

As the old adage goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions...