Fiction for Social Change
By Laura Vidal
Research & Project Specialist,
Latin America
IRIS
September's Tertulia was an inspiring display of ideas, traditional blended with new. Our discussion explored how storytelling—a profoundly human activity—can have powerful social and cultural consequences.
Our conversation was guided by Marianne Díaz Hernández, an exceptional writer, researcher, and internet human rights activist.
September's Tertulia was an inspiring display of ideas, traditional blended with new. Our discussion explored how storytelling—a profoundly human activity—can have powerful social and cultural consequences.
Our conversation was guided by Marianne Díaz Hernández, an exceptional writer, researcher, and internet human rights activist. It has been a pleasure to share Marianne's knowledge with the Tertulia participants, especially since we have worked on many projects combining fiction with awareness of privacy and data policies in several countries over the past few years. Regardless of what she’s working on or involved in, Marianne's greatest passion is finding a way to help people tell their own stories.
We gained a lot from the conversation. We went deep. Our discussions touched on the power of stories, their many forms, and how they are being told now in a hyper-connected age.
Even though the time was short, and this conversation was just the beginning of a much deeper exploration, we came away with notes that will serve as the spark for more. Some of the main ideas were:
The truth lies beyond reality
While many stories are based on real events, the core of a powerful narrative lies in the truth it conveys. Stories can be fueled by accurate facts and lived experiences, but they don't have to stick to one reality or testimony. To tell an impactful story, we need to tell it more from truth than from reality.
Many fictional works express complex realities in this way. Let's take the HBO series Chernobyl as an example. One character—Ulana Khomyuk, a Belarusian nuclear scientist who readily recognizes the danger—represents a combination of several people who lived near the plant and denounced the misinformation surrounding it.
Stories that offer emotional authenticity and universal truths enable listeners to identify with them. Diverse experiences can be woven into a cohesive story, forming an emotional tapestry for the audience.
Fiction as protection
The use of fiction can provide truthtellers and whistleblowers with anonymity that helps them stay safe. It is especially important to consider this when stories are trying to expose and denounce human rights violations. The simple act of changing names or altering details is not always sufficient in such cases. A fictional story can be as shocking as true facts and help them travel beyond where the facts originally occur.
Marianne described an example of a research presentation where this strategy was useful. The research describes the precarious journey of those who cannot count on identification and, like millions worldwide, move and cross borders to escape violence or poverty. As part of the effort to make the data and the realities of the sources more understandable, the findings follow a narrative thread through “Liliana,” a character conceived to humanize a reality experienced by millions of migrants.
This brings us to another important element:
If you have data, you have stories
The conversation led us to consider how we set the wheels in motion. As individuals, communicators, and professionals working in civil society circles, we have access to a wealth of data, realities, and testimonies. We are all connected to communities, journalists, filmmakers, communicators and artists.
Those committed to social change and advocacy often find the answer in the most obvious places: in the people they work with, the everyday reality they live with, and the data they collect. The information and people around us allow us to weave a story.
The most important thing: tell a good story
Sharing stories, especially if they aim to promote social change, should not obscure their essential purpose. We still need a central character, intrigue, climax, and denouement, just as we did in the oldest stories. Those who listen make an unspoken compact with the storytellers: we know your story is fictional, but if you tell it well, we'll believe it as if it really happened.
Rather than just conveying a message, stories should be told for their intrinsic value.
We often encounter stories in civil society and its work where the intent is too evident, and we don't connect with them. The same happens when fiction has an obvious message that eats away at the storyline.
The conversation led us to think deeply and respectfully about the stories and the people we tell them to: the platforms, the tones, the languages, the interests, the tastes. The most important thing is not to forget that these people are not passive. This is an act of humility and trust. Those who read us, hear us, or play our game can fill in the blanks and follow the thread. In short, let's take care of the story first. Everything else will fall into place on its own.