Photographs and Institutional Responsibility of Museums

As a former volunteer for the Vietnam National Museum of History, I am aware of the fact that many of the photos exhibited in the gallery of the Revolution Building were copies of the originals. However, it was during our visit to the Revolution Building on Friday that I discovered another interesting story: some of the war photos were taken during “reconstructions” of historical events. This means that the historical events were recreated in the same or similar environment; the people who were involved in the original events were present; and pictures were taken during these reconstructed events. The three pictures that the staff pointed out to us were: the foundation ceremony of the predecessor of the Vietnamese Army; the capturing of General de Castries – the French commander in the Battle of Dien Bien Phu in 1954; and the flying of the Vietnamese flag on top of de Castries’ command post. The captions for all of these pictures only included the date and description of the original event.

"Foundation Ceremony of Armed Propaganda Brigade for the Liberation of Vietnam... in 1944" (taken in 1959)

"General de Castries and the entire French staff in Điện Biên Phủ were taken alive... in 1954" (taken in 1959)

There has not been any research into the reason behind this lack of footage of the original events. This could be, for example, due to secrecy or a lack of photography equipment. Nevertheless, the three pictures are all famous; the Vietnamese flag on top of the French command post, in particular, has gained symbolic meaning to many generations, representing the triumph of Vietnamese people over the French colonial rule as well as presented in many history text book as fact. Informing the public that these photos were not taken during the original events can result in many different outcomes for the public’s perception of the museum.

The flying of the Vietnamese flag on top of de Castries' command post, present in the museum and history textbooks

Museums serve as an institute that provides facts and commemorates the past. Revealing the story behind these photos can disrupt these functions, especially in Vietnam because these photos are used to remind current generations of how much our grandparents and parents had sacrificed for peace and independence. In addition, there will undoubtedly be criticism on the museum’s inability to check the accuracy of these photos as well as the insistence on providing a dishonest account of history. Moreover, it is impossible to predict how people will react when the museum attempts to correct the information and provides a version of history that clashes with people’s memories and interpretation. Will the symbol lose its meaning to millions of people who have come to take the pictures in the exhibitions and textbooks as “truth”? Will it be better if the museum continues to exhibit the ‘reconstructed’ and ‘romanticised’ version of the past that support people’s memories?

On the other hand, others might praise this move an attempt to fulfil the two main functions of museum, i.e. providing facts and commemorating the past. As people develop new technology and skill to evaluate the authenticity of artefacts, they will definitely come up with explanations that dispute the original account. When the museum acknowledges its shortcomings, it also acknowledges its responsibility to provide information to the public to the best of its ability. In terms of commemoration, the fact that these events were reconstructed already signifies the need to commemorate them. Without the intention to provide future generations with the means to remember and commemorate events such as the foundation of the army or the victory over the enemies, people would not have recreated these events, and the photos would not have existed. On the other hand, the museum can also present other documentations alongside the pictures to support the date and the presence of the people in these photos. The museum also has a responsibility to honour the memories of the people who participated in these reconstructed events.

The fact that the museum chooses to display a photo taken at a much later date than the event in the description will draw many contrasting opinions. Correcting existing account is a problem that many museums will face in the future, and balancing different expectations will not be an easy task.

Connecting the Past and Present at a Military Museum

In the morning of the second day of the museum field school at Vietnam Military History Museum, one particular issue captured my interest: how can military museum become more relevant to future generations? In the afternoon, as we tried to incorporate memories into the exhibition and I experienced the power of memories myself, it became clear to me that using memories can be one of the most effective solutions to this problem.

My group visited a small section in the gallery dedicated to the 2nd of September of 1945 – Vietnam’s Independence Day, which was later chosen as Vietnam’s National Day. This section included a photo of the parade in Hanoi, and below the photo there were musical instruments that were used to play the national anthem on that day. Both the photo and the instruments were accompanied by simple caption. In fact, this was the typical issue of the whole museum’s exhibition. Halls after halls, visitors were presented with displays arranged in similar amount of space, overwhelmed by a number of historical artefacts with little accompanied information. This method, along with the authoritative voice of the museum, made it hard for the visitors, especially foreigners who usually explore the museum by themselves, to grasp the significance and meaning of each stages in the chronological flow of narrative.  I particularly felt like I was back at school, getting bombarded with date and figures which I were told to learn by heart; yet at the end of the day, I still had trouble engage them or fully appreciate the relevance of that history in my own life.

For my group project, we came up with many ideas to include more voices in the gallery. First, we wanted to contact and include the stories of the musicians who played the instruments and the people who participated in the parade as many of them are still alive. Second, we intended to provide an audio of the national anthem as well as the translation of the lyrics into different languages. In addition, we thought that the museum can also collect testimonies of different generations to demonstrate the differences between the National Day of 1945 and that of modern day. By including these voices, the museum can use memory to connect the past and present. The personal stories and feelings of the people who were present in 1945 can evoke empathy from the visitors, which might not be achieved by the authoritative voice of museum. Moreover, an audio of the national anthem and a translation would help the international visitors connect the music to words and bring the triumphant tone of the exhibition alive. 

Another point to consider is the comparison of the past and present from the audience. Inter-generation personal memories of the national day and how it meant to them can create the opportunities for visitors to reflect on change in perspectives and the changes in Vietnam’s society. By understanding and reflecting on Vietnam’s National Day, visitors can turn a historical event into a symbol of pride, nationalism, or change based on their personal memories. Similarly, enriching the experience with memories for visitors could help connect the past to the present, and make a military museum more relevant to younger generation.

Coincidentally, as we were going back to present our suggestions, I got a glimpse of how memories could achieve this goal by observing the interaction between a group of marine veterans and a family who happened to be at the same gallery. The veterans were just starting their guided tour in the building when the family consisted of an elder and two boys saw them. What followed was a brief but touching interaction: the faces of the old man and the two boys lit up as they saw the marines. Both parties smiled as the old man took a picture of the boys with two veterans leading the group in their uniform.

After one of the boys expressed his wish to join the marine, the two veterans gave the boy a pat on the soldier and told him that he would be able to join if he worked hard and took good care of his sight (he wore a pair of glasses). The groups then parted; but just by being at the same place together, old memories were shared and new memories were created for the veterans, the old man and the two boys, and for me as an observer. It is evidence that museum can be a place for people of different generations and backgrounds to come together to learn, to share and to celebrate their memories.

Movement towards memory

“History is perpetually suspicious of memory, and its true mission is to suppress and destroy it.”   Pierre Nora 1989

To me this quote from ‘Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de Mémoire’ seems to express the idea that museums present only fact and being should be the authoritative voice for the nation. The idea that memory is a critique of history. However, from day one of our field school we have seen museums opening up to memory work and inclusion. Some creating exhibitions with multiple voices and personal narratives. Through the field school I’m seeing the difference between history and memory and that they need not be in competition, rather they can be complimentary.

At the Vietnam Women’s Museum we learned that museums are crucial sites of memory, and heard of exhibitions such as ‘Single Mothers’ which told personal stories from marginalised women. Then as I looked through the galleries I was drawn in by the ‘Mother Goddess’ exhibition and particularly it’s use of personal stories. As an unfamiliar visitor, the first person quotes and multi-faceted approach, including a sound track, helped me to get a sense of how everyday people feel about the Goddess. Along with the ceremonies and rituals that reinforce this cultural memory which looks to the future with the past ancestors in mind. To me it seemed that this museum is an example of the movement towards memory work, community participation and inclusion.

The next day at the Military History Museum we learned of their plan to update their galleries. So the question emerges: how should we remember? And importantly, how can this Museum stay relevant to a generation who didn’t live through the conflicts? Could memory work be an option in this case? The voice throughout the different exhibitions is patriotic, presenting a unified voice of achievement and triumph. As museums play a key role in the intergenerational communication of these histories, could the addition of more personal narratives generate empathy for the general visitor and the younger generation? Potentially bringing the past into the present and keeping memory alive.

The Museum of Ethnology appeared to be successfully undertaking memory work. When Professor Nyguyen Van Huy spoke of the exhibition held ten years ago about life under the subsidy economy, he told us that the timing was right to do an exhibition of this kind. With an approach of first finding the stories and then allowing the objects to come to light from them, we heard of an exhibition in which curators worked collaboratively with the community to include a narrative of diverse voices. Although the exhibition was extended, it sadly was not enough for us to get a glimpse firsthand into this world where a  young couple who were both doctors kept a pig in their bathroom to sell for extra money. We heard how these true reconstructions and personal stories had made strong connections with visitors. Those who lived through this time reminisced about the past together, and made the exhibition come alive. The Professor acknowledged that this was a big challenge. And I’m not sure that this is something that all museums are ready for.

Movements towards memory in Vietnam’s museums allow the visitors additional ways of relating to the past without necessarily rivalling history. From ‘History, Memory, and the Genre of Testimony’ of 2006 by Aleida Assmann, this now seems more pertinent: “The question to be asked is no longer merely what has happened? but also how was the event experienced, how is it remembered and passed on to succeeding generations?”

Threads of knowledge at the Hoi An Museum of Folklife

At the Hoi An Musuem of Folklife there was a silk weaving demonstration that I found mesmerizing, because it's so rare to see weaving or textile making in it's traditional form being performed live. At the Vietnam Musuem of Ethnology in Hanoi, there where many displays of looms in the collection with audio/visual accompaniments to help the visitor to understand how the tool may be used, however, this demonstration was for me a real treat.  The woman pictured below sat quietly at the loom and methodically moved the thread guide between the red and gold silk threads, tapping the threads firmly into place and moving the pedals with her feet. In doing so, she changed the pattern, also by pulling on weights, hung by ropes, attached to many threads. The repeated pattern within the fabric she created was intricate and detailed, compared to the uncomplicated bamboo frame holding the work.  I watched her, smiling, taking a few pictures and video to show friends and family later of the demonstration. The experience for me felt intimate, because she wasn't on a stage or being circled by a frenzy of cameras and iPhones. The feeling reminded me of how my mother taught me to sew, first by watching, then supervised basic sewing and finally being left alone to make my creations, but nothing was ever written down. If the machine jammed, the bobbin tangled or the needle broke, I would call her for help and she would just "magically" know what to do. How did she know this? A combination of her own experience sewing and what she learned from her mother (my grandmother). Since Modernity has taken up more time in my life, I no longer have the luxury of time to sew as much as I would like too these days. I miss the physical act of making something- creating something, out of something else. I envied this woman.

Seen and not heard

At Hoa Lo Prison Museum I spent a lot of time looking into the smiling faces of captured US pilots. They were photographed as they prepared for their release and return home in 1973 and I searched these photographs for evidence of truth or lies. The spaces dedicated to the treatment of captured B52 pilots seem incongruous with my western perspective of POW camps and my understanding of North Vietnam during the American-Vietnam war.

Where in the tidy regulation jackets, pressed shirts, shined shoes and leather satchels filled with souvenirs could I find evidence of POW mistreatment? Did they look too thin or unhealthy? Did their smiles look forced? Was their someone standing just outside of the range of the lens who was forcing the illusion of friendship and compassion? John Berger said that ‘a photograph, whilst recording what has been seen, always and by its nature refers to what is not seen. It isolates, preserves and presents a moment taken from a continuum' (1980, p.293).

The narrative presented in the rooms about the American war were not what I was expecting, so much so, that before we got to these spaces, I had already asked the tour guide how the prison was used when it was controlled by the Vietnamese. I expected a continuation of the prison cells and yards. “Not at all,” was his response, “the american prisoners were treated very well.” 

After representations of persecution and extremely harsh conditions that Vietnamese political prisoners endured, was it possible that the Vietnamese military were not driven to retaliation? It made sense to me, that on gaining power and control of the north, the Vietnamese captors would inflict the same treatment on their prisoners, after all, the prison was constructed to house an enemy.

Within the prison museum, I was moved by life-size, three-dimensional portrayals of shackled prisoners in dark, over-crowded cells. In the face of great adversity, the individualised figures depict shared experiences of compassion and love – they embrace, support, laugh and play games, never broken by the horror of the prison. The over-bearing stench and extreme temperatures are gone but were described in detail by the museum narrative, evidenced in the tour guide’s descriptions, text panels and photographs. The carefully lit, sophisticated exhibits and haunting audio add impact to the memory-work capturing the ‘crimes of the French colonialist committed on revolutionary patriotic soldiers.’

This is a carefully controlled representation for the museum visitor. The path through Hoa Lo museum is a chronological narrative. How many visitors ask their guides about the treatment of US POW’s while standing in the reflective memorial space that commemorates thousands of lost Vietnamese lives under French occupation? This memorial space also marks a separation in the narrative.

The contrast between the prison cells and the  spaces representing the American war is stark. Across two exhibition halls, the first depicts the ‘sabotage warfare’ carried out by the US government through photographs and film of destructive air strikes. The second hall, where I found myself searching the faces of the same US pilots who had caused this destruction, is a space of triumphant Vietnamese achievement. The haunting audio of the prison, is replaced with a tune of celebration, the rooms are brightly and evenly lit, and the photographs and film are joyful. The captive US pilots are shown celebrating Christmas with church outings, meals of chicken, trees and Santa Claus decorations; they played basketball and received letters from home. Apparently, they had a very comfortable stay.

I’m left questioning my own motivations. Why was I searching the photographs for what is not seen? Perhaps it is because of what is also not heard. The only  voice in this space is the authoritarian voice of the museum. These are official photographs of carefully chosen moments. Where are the testimonies, the personal stories and the depictions of the everyday lives of the prisoners like those in the narrative of Hoa Lo Prison under French rule? Despite the smiling faces, the US pilot’s memories of their time at the Hanoi Hilton are noticeably absent. 

Museums of Memory: The top 5 places to visit in Hanoi, Vietnam

The capital of the north of Vietnam is the bustling, fast paced city of Ha Noi. Day or night, the city is bursting at the seams with life; Mopeds and cars flood the streets with no discernible designated sides, and crossing is like playing a game of Frogger, where it is not so much about timing as it is about skill and practice. The old quarter is filled with shops and vendors and restaurants with smiling staff waving you into their business. Most people in the area know enough English to get by in business and short chats. A short cab ride in any direction can bring you to a museum that is trying to tell the story of Vietnam. If you are interested in the Archaeological history, the social history, or the current community, there is a place for you to learn about their rich culture. 

Hanoi Citadel

    

(front of the Citadel)

The Citadel is one of the oldest structures in Hanoi. The site itself has been used for many purposes, including a bunker that was created under it much more recently. This form of new use contrasts with the archaeological site that you pass when entering the citadel, covered with a glass case to protect it from the elements, the site shows the old road into the citadel, and the layers of construction that was built over it. Pieces of the citadel, such as the dragon banisters that appear to be climbing down the stairs in the front of the temple, are older and well kept to preserve the memory of what it once was. 

(Front stairs)

Archaeological site

    

Across the street from the CItadel is an ongoing archaeological project, where the ancient city is in the process of being recreated and recorded. When I was there, the archaeologists of the site were in the process of re-creating a lake and waterway that was originally there, in hopes to recreate the memory of the original city that has since been forgotten. Through their efforts, they have discovered wells layered with pottery that was unfortunate enough to be lost in the process of water gathering, but lucky enough to have survived hundreds of years because of it. Once at the end of the walkway around the site, keep an eye open for a large cover with an archaeological boat printed on it. The boat, which is covered for preservation, is in what used to be the old waterway.

(Archaeological dig site with walls and floor tiles)

    

Ethnology Museum

The ethnology museum, which has two large buildings for exhibit space, also displays full sized traditional houses from the minority ethnic groups around Vietnam. They are built, furnished, and maintained by representatives of the minority groups community, and are open to the public to explore, from thatched roofs to clay shingles. 

    Inside the museum is displays showing recreation of intangible heritage practices; craft making, dances, songs, etc. The setting creates a personal connection between you and the minority group; being in their style of house; walking the stilted, woven floors; even sitting at the table gives you a feeling of being a part of their life. 

(House of an ethnic minority group)

(Inside the house)

Hanoi Prison Museum

(A display of how prisinors would be kept)

    The Hanoi Prison, or the “Hanoi Hilton” as it was referred to by Americans who were prisoners of war there, offers the stories of the many sides of the last two significant revolutions (known as the French and American wars) and the role that the prison played. The prison displays several artifacts from its past, which may be hard for some visitors and bring up unwanted memories. Displays include various objects from a guillotine from the French war, to the flight suit of the U.S. 2008 presidential candidate, John McCain, who was a POW in the prison. 

(Flight suit of John McCain)

    

Hanoi Women's Museum

(Wedding outfits of a minority ethnic group)

    The Hanoi Women’s Museum does a good job of celebrating women’s achievements in society. The exhibitions display the accomplishments of the culturally significant women, with an exhibition on the women who were heroines during the American war in Vietnam, to depictions of daily life as a woman in agriculture, farming, and fishing. The ‘Family Life’ exhibition provides a lot of information into the cultural aspects of living in mainstream vietnamese culture and the ethnic minority groups. The 'Mother godess' exhibit was very interesting to me, as it had quotes from a lot of community members displayed in various ways talking about what the mother godess exhibit ment to them and memories they have had from past Mother Godess festivals.

(Mother Godess Shrine set up in the exhibit)

Kiki Lathrop

(abridged from a longer list)

Memories of National Resistance

What struck me the most about museums in Hanoi is the strength of the collective memory of national resistance and yet there is a profound absence of personal narratives, with some obvious exceptions, that embody this spirit for the visitor. These museums face the challenge of reconstructing this history of resistance to create understanding both with younger Vietnamese and international visitors who may be distanced from historical events spatially and temporally.

Without personal stories of valour and victory, struggles and loss, the museum’s resistance narrative will remain nationalistic and ephemeral to the visitor, and in doing so limits the diversity of audiences who are imperative to sustaining the memory of Vietnam’s national resistance.

I am the first to admit I haven’t grasped the complexities of Vietnam’s history, the Communist regime and the causes and effects of French imperialism and the American-Vietnam War. Although I don’t have a background or even a passion for photography, my interest has peaked with the use of photographs as evidence of change, specifically the effects of conflict on the landscape. These photographs are key objects to ignite storytelling and the sharing of experiences, the essence of national resistance.

The Museum of Revolution had many photographs evident of poignant and challenging dark heritage. A sense of injustice for the effects of conflict was overwhelming and yet I wanted to know what the effects were, understand the context of the photographs I was viewing. In the case studies I have selected to share, an obliterated school as an image of complete loss was replaced in my memory by an image of people walking children to school, hand-in-hand, for the new school year in 1974.

Although the schools photographed were from different locations, as a visitor I connected them and wanted to grasp the effects of warfare on children and student’s education during the American-Vietnam War. Did their education cease during times of conflict? How interrupted was their learning opportunities? How did the children and students engage with the world around them? How are the 57 pupils killed on the 9 February 1966 remembered today? Was their Secondary School at Huong Phuc rebuilt and witness to a similar scene of renewal in 1974?

How did the students and parents in Dong Ha feel walking their children to school for the first time in 1974? What effects of the conflict permeated into the student’s learning environment? How did the education system cope with loss both in terms of human loss and the loss of resources? How safe did the students feel going back to school?

I think these questions could be answered by examining the cultural values of Vietnamese people and how these values interplay with the nationalistic value of resistance presented in Hanoi’s museums. The limitation of this exercise would be to delimit the Vietnamese population into a collective as from these museum and site visits it is evident that various ethnic groups had significant roles during conflict. The second limitation which is tied to the first, is the timing of such an endeavour. With ongoing talks of themes of remembering, reconciliation, forgiveness and nation building, can such discussions assist in the healing and unification process or could they highlight disparate, hidden or ignored histories and stories of suffering and perhaps neglect which could reopen wounds and detract from the memories of national resistance. An understanding of the Vietnamese sense of spirit is a theme which I hope to explore at the Vietnamese Women’s Museum and will hopefully help me understand how the nationalistic voice of resistance is evident in the lives of contemporary communities and its significance. 

Hayley Young.

 Photographs taken at the Vietnam Museum of Revolution, Hanoi, 8 January 2016.