Photographs as Documents

Learning about the Bomb: Photographs as Documents

Photographs are visual evidence of the past. While a given image only captures one specific moment, a snapshot of a time, place, and life, contextual clues can reveal far more than what might first initially meet the eye. This is not a new argument. Photographs taken from the Civil War changed the way in which Americans perceived war. The depiction of everyday life and portrait photographs of soldiers might have brought many families solace but the images of battlefields and dead bodies wholly destroyed the glorious prestige that battle and war once possessed. In contemporary times, the emergence of photojournalism due to technical achievements enabled journalists to enter into the literal thick of things. Photographs taken in the middle of battle introduced a new sense of action that gripped audiences attention. Some of the most iconic photographs taken during WW II possess more than just a form of gritty realism; they depicted the clear triumph of good versus evil and thus became symbols of patriotic pride. However there are other photographs from WW II that possess darker implications and themes. In the summer of 1945, the American military dropped two atomic bombs on cities in Japan, marking the end of Japan’s involvement in the war and the beginning of the atomic age. Unlike photographs taken in Europe depicting America’s defeat of the Nazi empire, the photographs taken in the wake of Hiroshima and Nagasaki’s destruction do not depict America’s triumph against evil. When it comes to using photographs as documents history, the photographs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki can offer researchers historic truthfulness when it comes to assessing and interpreting the past.

In their article, “Doing the Rest: The Uses of Photographs in American Studies” (1977), authors Marsha Peters & Bernard Mergen assert that, “Through each photograph records only one instant in an event, the cumulative body of these photographic moments can provide information about cultural values and attitudes as well as about the style and design of a society”[1]. While there are many aspects of history that were well-documented long before the introduction of photographs for supplementing historic research, there are still plethora of areas that have gaps that need filling. Here, photographs can provide researchers unique information “That can only be communicated and analyzed in visual terms”[2]. The atomic bomb, while a milestone in American history, is one such event that is not well documented in American history. While there are the iconic images of the mushroom cloud that formed following detonation, these images lack a human subject and thus do not betray the harsh reality of human suffering that occurred in this moment. While Susan Crane asserts that photographs from the Holocaust have reached their limit in terms of providing useful testimony of Nazi atrocities, I wonder what she would say about images depicting the aftermath of the atomic bombs? Would she also argue these “Unnerving, upsetting, horrible -the atrocity images ‘disperse the sense of shock’ to the point of meaningless and helplessness”?[3] I would say no, since the images of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are far less a part of the American consciousness than the aforementioned Holocaust images. Perhaps then it is time to put aside images of the Holocaust and focus American attention on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Historians can use these photographs as historical documents as a means of injecting the same degree of historical significance into event that, while vital to American history, is reduced to being represented by a mushroom cloud.

Mushroom cloud over Nagasaki, Japan. [Fig. 1].

Although Guy Baxter is correct when he states “What is in the picture, its content, is not the whole story”, there is still a plethora of information that can be gleaned from photograph [4]. In the case of photographs taken after the detonation of the atomic bomb in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, these images can be used for the purpose of historical analysis by examining their subject content. According to Claude Cookman, it is the photographic subject that determines the power of a single image: “Great photographs let us empathize with their subjects” to which Martha Sandweiss adds, “Suggesting that photography sparks human empathy between the viewer and the subject, between the present and the past”[5]. An interesting thing to note: the images of the atomic bomb’s destruction were kept not just American eyes following their use in Hiroshima and Nagasaki; the Japanese too were prevented from viewing them. Their absence from public view encouraged something akin to a collective forgetting, more so for Americans than the Japanese. In both instances, when finally presented for others to see, the tragic events were placed within the context of the past, of what ‘had been’. Despite this delay, the photographs still had a great impact on the nature of memory. Captured in the photographs following in the wake of the explosion, viewers could see material traces of what remained of those caught in the blast: "At first look, this photograph does not produce any horror, until one matches the marks to the fit the shape of a person who sat on the stairs at the time of explosion; a figure can be imagined sitting the stairs…The truth about nuclear annihilation emerges precisely at that moment. This is the kind of experience that Susan Sontag call the ‘negative epiphany, a moment in which the viewer first comes into contact with the image of a terrifying subject and reaches the limit of which and sadness, experiencing a kind of modern revelation"[6].

Remains of a person sitting on the steps possibly waiting for a bank to open
[Fig. 2].

These have since become known as the ‘Shadows of Hiroshima’ [7]. Although these images posses terrifying realities, it vital to take care to not distort or devalue their meaning. These images represent both cultural trauma and collective memory for the Japanese and Americans. The goal of using these photographs as historical documents would be to ensure that, when being incorporated into historical analysis, they serve as pieces of evidence of a narrative that best reflects and explains the horrors and impact of the atomic bomb. 

In her article from the New York, “Looking at War” (2002), which discusses the impact of photographs depicting atrocities, Susan Sontag writes of the strength of photographs in regards to reaching the public masses: “In contrast to a written account, which, depending on its complexity of thought, references, and vocabulary, is pitched at a larges or smaller readership, a photograph has only one language and is defined potentially for all” [8]. As visual evidence, photographs have a way of transcending gaps created by language and even time. As mentioned, photographs taken of the aftermath in Hiroshima and Nagasaki were kept from public view and yet, their impact was not at all lessened when finally shown. Reviewing the photographs, one is enticed by curiosity to grasp a better understanding of the events of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In the case of Americans, the narrative of the bomb has undergone an evolution since the bombs detention in 1945. At first the photographs were framed as being evidence of American triumph; now the framing of the subject is being reconsidered. While it is presentist to deny the fear that was held during the events of WW II, the dropping of the atomic bombs has been considered in a new light that is cast as cautionary rather than necessary. When perceived as documents, these photographs can be utilized to supplement a narrative that explores the complexities of war as well as its costs. At the same time, they can used to fuel the sustainment of a collective memory (Japanese) and the reinvention of another (America).

In a 1952 article from LIFE magazine, the photographs of Matsushige Yoshito are featured. Unlike the well-known image of the mushroom cloud, they depicted images of human suffering and the devastation of human life. Just how photographs of Civil War battlefields shattered the illusion that war is glorious, so does Yoshito’s photographs. In the conclusion of the article from LIFE magazine, the author asserts that viewers should take in the shocking reality of the image. They also subtly alludes to a pain that we could never fully comprehend unless we ourselves were to fall victims of a similar fate, then a feared outcome in the early days of the Cold War: "To a world building up its stock of atomic bombs, the people of the two cities warn that the long surpassed photographs, terrible as they are, still fall far short of depicting the horror only those who lived under the blast can know" [9].

Ruins of Hiroshima. [Fig. 3]

[1]. Marsha Peters and Bernard Mergen, “Doing the Rest: The Uses of Photographs in American Studies." American Quarterly 29, no. 3 (1977): 280.

[2]. Peters and Mergen, “Doing the Rest”:  280.

[3]. Susan Crane, “Choosing Not to Look: Representation, Repatriation, and Holocaust Atrocity Photography." History and Theory 47, no. 3 (2008): 326.

[4]. Guy Baxter, “Historical Photograph: Record, Information Source, Object, Resource,” Art Libraries Journal 28, 2 (2003), 3.

[5]. Martha Sandweiss, “ Image and Artifact: The Photograph as Evidence in the Digital Age” in The Journal of American History 94 (2007): 202.

[6]. Barbara Marcon, “ Hiroshima and Nagasaki in the Eye of the Camera: Images and Memory." Third Text 25, no. 6 (2011): 792-793.

[7]. Check out The Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum’s website for more information and images.

[8].  Susan Sontag, “Looking at War: Photography’s View of Devastation and Death”, in The New Yorker: http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2002/12/09/looking-at-war 

[9]. "When Atom Bomb Struck - Uncensored”, LIFE (1952), 24.

[Fig 1]. http://www.atomicarchive.com/History/twocities/nagasaki/image3.shtml
[Fig 2]. http://www.gensuikin.org/english/photo.html
[Fig 3]. http://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/hiroshima-70th-anniversary-nuclear-bomb-should-never-be-used-again-n403761