Media teams finding it tough to remain aloof from the tragedy

''WHAT future has this child?'' asked George Alagiah of the BBC's foreign affairs team, reporting from the Rwandan border. He went on: ''There are thousands more like her - the orphans of the conflict. We took those we could manage to the French military hospital. At times like this it's impossible not to cross the line that divides us, the observers, from those we observe.'' Surrounded by such misery, Alagiah and his team were impelled to do something, however small, to help. They could, of course, have devoted their whole time to it and used up their entire stock of food and water. But that is not why they were sent there; and that is not the job the aid agencies want them to do.

The agencies, far from finding the cameras intrusive, welcome them wholeheartedly, give them every assistance.

Alagiah had offers from four organisations to fly him into Goma. A television camera represents international attention and international attention brings results.

Yet, as Alagiah realised, it makes the camera a participant in the process of ''doing something''; indeed, it often leads the way. Where hunger and bloodshed are concerned, the television teams have crossed the line unreservedly. To be purely impartial and objective in the face of circumstances like those in Rwanda is to be less than human.

The outside world became aware of the present cycle of war-induced humanitarian disasters in Africa a decade ago, with the first pictures of the Ethiopian famine. That was not as bad as the situation in Rwanda now, but it nevertheless represented the start of a change in attitudes.

Before Ethiopia things were clear-cut. Observers were observers; nothing more. If you compromised, you became an actor in the drama yourself, taking sides, influencing the outcome.