Reflections and memories

There’s something about military museums across the world that seems similar – the metallic, musky smell; sense of national pride; and a narrative, which, almost always, seems to highlight the victorious accomplishments of the home nation’s military and horrific actions of the enemy. Personally, I find it hard to connect with the objects on display, and the people they represent, because of the lack of personal memory or insight into that person - it is almost as if soldiers become faceless figures and names. You are seldom told of the soldier’s everyday life, if only briefly though a short label. This thought every much reflects my experience of the Vietnam Military Museum where I found it difficult to connect with the objects due to lack of communication (in English anyway) of its significance, background story and the role it plays in the wider context of the conflict it represented. Perhaps this is because military personnel are regarded to be representative of a nation, and therefore, the museum assumes the soldier’s intentions and experiences are universally understood? However, when museums present exhibitions that draw on memories of everyday people who were affected by war, my experience is completely altered – I become much more empathetic and can put myself into someone else’s shoes much easier. Maybe this highlights my own lack of patriotism and struggle to understand wars and conflicts. Or perhaps it is because I can more easily relate experience of war with  stories my Grandad told me of growing up in London in WWII during the Blitz. Would my experience be different if my grandad had told me stories of fighting in conflicts?

I have been to many museums and sites that commemorate or represent traumatic and devastating events affecting everyday people. Some of these sites include Ground Zero, site of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, New York; Anna Franks Huis, Amsterdam; The Japanese American Museum in Los Angeles, which details the poor treatment of Japanese Americans living in Los Angeles during WWII; and The Peace Dome Memorial Museum, Hiroshima, site of the first atomic bomb dropped on Japan by Americans at the end of World War II. While these museums also focus on war and conflict, they provoke a very different emotion to that of military museums through alternative perspectives and focus on everyday people. For me, these sites have one thing in common: the use of in-depth story telling through personal memories and narratives leaves me feeling a deep connection with and empathy towards the people represented through the objects on display. Through the memories represent in these museums I am able to put myself in that person’s shoes and often become quite emotional – particularly in Hiroshima (where I struggled to hold back tears during most of my visit). I personally have no connections to these countries or the events that affected these people, but the memories captured in these museums have stayed with me.

What is interesting about museums that focus on traumatic events is that the objects on display are almost always everyday items (or at least not objects typically related to violence). A lunchbox is no longer a lunchbox but becomes the storyteller of a child worker who tragically got killed by the Atomic bomb on Hiroshima. The object’s meaning is completely transformed and recontextualised through the memory connected to it; yet, if the museum did not communicate the object’s association with people or events then it would be difficult to relate to the object or understand its significance. Would the object have any significance at all if we were not told the story the object has to tell, particularly for future generations who, with out context, may never be able to connect with or relate to objects associated with conflict and the trauma it causes? What is an object without a narrative, I wonder? The stories an object prompts can be such a powerful and emotional tool, both in terms of active memory and commemoration. The challenge for the museum ensuring these stories are told in an ethical and respectful way.

Head swirling with memory

Being in Hanoi again for a second field school, I am finding my head is swirling with memories - of the city, the museums, the people and the process of the field school itself. I'm really struck with how memory - as an individual ability, as well as a social/collective/cultural thing - is so essential to the two primary activities we're doing here. That is, learning and travelling. I'm finding that I'm experiencing the city in a very different way this year. It's no longer entirely new, chaotic and overwhelming to me. I recognise places, words, habits, behaviours, sounds, smells, tastes. It makes me feel more secure and the sense of familiarity means that I'm able to experience the city in a more comfortable and pleasurable way. I'm more open to it, which increases my potential for understanding. Memory has a very strong connection to our sense of 'being in the world'- ontological security if you like. I think the personal sense of ease we can get through remembering has parallels with collective memory and discussions we've had about how memory is essential to collective well-being and cultural resilience. Memory and learning are also inextricably connected, as we know from our times tables in primary school! But why do I find it so difficult to remember Vietnamese words! Why is my memory so defective when it come to these new sounds? It makes me realise that memory and cognition are incredibly complex processes and we are thinking about them on so many different levels and in multiple contexts during this field school. One thing I do recall from last year is that talking and thinking about it gets easier. Over the two weeks we will develop a shared language, shared reference points and things we all remember (!) that will enable us to develop our thinking about the many fascinating ideas we are exploring together.

Approach to memory-work in a historic photography collection

Yesterday we focused on memory and photographs and for my post I thought it might be useful to share an example of a broad (institutional) approach to memory-work in the ethno-historical photography collection at the Queensland Museum (where I did a 3-month prac in undergrad). I’ll briefly highlight some of my observations from time there, in relation to photographs and the creation/transmission of narratives.

After our visit to the Museum of Revolution yesterday, there seemed to be a general feeling that many photographs lacked the information required for us to really understand what they meant and I think this can be frustrating for audiences.

The problem is (as became clear to me quickly at the Queensland Museum) that many historic photographs simply don’t come with much information attached. Sometimes all that is written on a photo is a key word, place or name (whether that be subject, photographer or collector) and the rest of the narrative is lost.

In some cases, the photograph has an obvious aesthetic value a can be used for exhibitions (for e.g. photos of king plates in Australian Aboriginal societies, or perhaps photo subjects with traditional scarring). Yet in many cases, photos that lack contextual information are relegated to a life in the storage facility, because we just don’t know enough about them to put them in an exhibition. Museum staff (rightfully) shy away from inferring information about them, because they don’t want to misinform the audience.

I was interested to learn that the Queensland Museum has an ‘Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Consultative Committee’. The committee has the final say about whether certain photos are (or are not) put on display. Along with research staff they help to identify contemporary family members of photograph subjects and clarify who has the right to make decisions about particular photos within different communities.

The committee seems to be a solid start to the process of memory-work. It guides staff towards communities and helps facilitate community engagement with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities (whose photos make up a large portion of the collection). Relatives and community may choose to assist the museum to fill in knowledge gaps and help ascribe new meaning to photographs (as we spoke about in class - ‘renewing’ cultural memory). The ancestors of people in photographs add their version of family stories to the existing narrative attached to the photo. Thus creating a new narrative and helping to continue the life of that photo into the present.

The idea of a committee reminds me of the approach used in ‘Objects & Stories: Hanoi Life under the Subsidy Economy’. Identifying the appropriate family group/elders/ancestors; collecting their stories and adding them to the information we already know.

I guess how the museum presents dual narratives in exhibitions is another part of memory-work and that’s what we’ve been talking about a lot this week. It can be tricky and politicised and I’m really looking forward to gaining more skills on how to do this practice. 

I think the Queensland Museum case study shows that a museum can fit memory-work into their day-to-day operations in a way that facilitates community engagement. 

Professor Nguyen Van Huyen Museum, Hanoi

Nguyen Van Huyen Museum

Today, we visited the Nguyen Van Huyen Museum, a privately-run museum in the suburbs of Hanoi established by Professor Nguyen Van Huy. This new museum depicts the family history of Professor Huy using a selection of biographical narratives, photographs, documents and objects setting out the lives of his mother and father.

Interestingly, the house is dedicated to memory and uses family memory to frame the changes taking place in Vietnam society. Entering the museum, visitors are greeted with a large family tree with family photographic portraits. As Jo pointed out, the images of hairstyles of the female family members show the influence of French fashion in Vietnam and capture a particular epoch of colonial rule in the country.

Outside the museum is a small but significant garden, in which plants from the family's village are cultivated. Again, the sensory aspects of gardens acts to anchor the museum to homeland and provides, as Professor Huy commented, a point for connectedness, whereby visitors often recognise the plants as growing in certain areas of Vietnam.

The museum provides a compelling example of the role of memory in Vietnam society; the reconstruction of family histories in an era when this is now possible.

Graeme

Dealing with Personal Belief in Vietnam’s Museums

During the first week of the field school, we have visited seven museums and historical sites around Hanoi, each addressing different aspects of the history and peoples of Vietnam. At each of these museums, we discussed the representation of major traumatic events from Vietnam’s history – French colonization, the revolution, the American War and the subsidy economy period. These events have taken up the majority of the exhibition space we have visited, but are represented in very different ways, with very different stories and voices. These different approaches have the ability to help survivors, and Vietnam as a whole, deal with these traumas.

On day one, we visited the Women’s Museum. Through telling personal stories of women who were involved in the American War, this Museum allowed people to consider their own stories, and reflect on the personal sacrifices of those who were directly involved. For example, the Museum includes stories of women who died or underwent decades of imprisonment for following their own personal beliefs. These stories allow everyone, including those who were not directly involved in the War, to reflect on the sacrifices that people have made for their beliefs, and to consider whether they themselves have any beliefs for which they would make such sacrifices. This in turn supports reflection on the beliefs that motivated people during the War, allowing visitors to come to terms with why people acted in the ways they did. 

Conversely, and perhaps unsurprisingly, the Military History Museum focused on much higher-level narratives. At this Museum, we learnt about the weaponry used, how the rest of the world felt about the American War, and the military tactics used within key battles of both the revolution and the War. However, none of this material gave me a chance to reflect on why the revolution or the War occurred, what the impacts on those living through them were, and what the lasting ramifications are for all the people of Vietnam, including those who fought on both sides of these wars, bystanders, and those who have been born since. While able to appreciate the achievements of the Vietnamese military tacticians, I could not properly relate to the events, as I had no more human reference point to which I could connect. Having never experienced a war first hand, I found it very hard within this Museum to reflect on what these experiences must have been like for those experiencing them. Where they cold, scared, hungry? What gave them the motivation to go on? Why were they willing to make such sacrifices, or merely stand by?

Progressively, these questions may be asked by more and more visitors, as those with personal experiences of these times pass on. Without an understanding of these more human factors, it is very hard to understand the whole picture, and to truly appreciate the sacrifices that have been made by those in the past that allow us to lead the lives we now have. As generations change, it will be increasingly important to provide this understanding through museums, as it becomes one of the few bastions to which people can turn.

First 3 Days in Retrospect

The end of Day 3 and already we have experienced different styles of presenting objects and stories in Vietnamese museums. 
The Women’s Museum provided various perspectives of women in society through marriage, birthing children, providing for the family through agriculture and fishing, their fashions and shaping the country through their gallantry in wars. It also provided an insight to one religious belief centred around the Mother Goddess. There appeared to be an underlying theme of women being the backbone of society providing the glue to hold society together. From walking the streets of Hanoi, there appears to be women everywhere as street sellers and store operators of all sorts of merchandise while the men look on smoking, talking, playing games and drinking. From observation, one can only conclude that it is women who support and hold the family together while still working.
The Vietnamese Military History Museum displays to the Vietnamese people and international visitors, the country’s military achievements in a triumphant and patriotic manner. The underdog who took on, and won wars from militarily superior countries through persistence, ingenuity together with moralistic support and equipment and supplies from other countries across the world. It depicts a proud and united country capable of defending itself against any adversary.
The Hanoi Jail Museum provided an insight to the harsh and brutal conditions, prisoners faced under the French regime. Was this any different to how prisoners in other countries were treated at that time? I would argue it was not. One can only assume French prisoners were treated the same as the Vietnamese. Following Independence, there is no indication of how prisoners were treated. Were they held in the same conditions? The clear message was the strength of character that the political prisoners had, many of which rose to power within the newly formed Government in 1954. This reverence was clear with the memorial to political prisoners who had died. In contrast to the French, the Vietnamese are shown to be benevolent jailers to those US airmen who were incarcerated in the jail during the American War. While some of this benevolence is correct, only those who were imprisoned, know the full story. 
The Hanoi Police Museum provided an interesting insight to policing in Hanoi following Independence including the types of crime and subversive activities it solves. It presented a ‘feel good’ story to local Vietnamese of its strength and dedication to helping and keeping the community safe, whether it be from crime or disasters.
The Citadel displays clearly showed the importance that the facility has been throughout Vietnamese history and its reuse from an Emperor’s Palace to a Defence Headquarters. While there are lapses in its history under French control, it provides a solid understanding of the Vietnamese dynasties until their demise with Independence.
I look forward to continuing our exploration of Vietnamese museology over the next nine days.

Hanoi Police Museum, opened 2015

UQ Museum Studies postgraduates will be undertaking a Field School from 4-15 January 2016 in Vietnam, visiting museums and heritage institutions in Hanoi, Da Nang, Hue and Hoi An. The theme of the field school is 'Museums and Memory' and we will be exploring how memory-work can be utilised in the museum environment and the effects of this. 

Included in our itinerary is a visit to the newly established Hanoi Police Museum, as well as other sites of memory including Thang Long Citadel, Hoa Lo Prison Museum and Hue Ancient Citadel. We will be critical thinking through questions about the role of memory in Vietnam and how this operates in the context of exhibition narratives, objects, sites and photographs.

This blog intends to document our experience.