Death Railway, Kanchanaburi, Thailand
So I spent sunset and dusk yesterday rushing from the Allied War Cemetery in Kanchanaburi to the River Kwai Bridge. If you’re not among the many millions of tourists who have passed through this infamous place west of Bangkok, here’s a canned history. In 1942, after capturing SE Asia, the Japanese decided to build a railway for supplies, from Burma to Thailand. It was an important strategic move that would extend their reach all the way towards India, it was hoped. For manpower, they used the many tens of 1,000s of allied POWs in their custody, as well as even more civilian ‘slaves’. The reason the site is still so visited and remembered today has a lot to do with the death toll – approximately 115,000 people over little more than a year.
Anyway, how to photograph a war cemetery? Only days ago, I met a New Zealand photographer in Calcutta who has a very odd job – to photograph the war cemeteries throughout the world that contain NZ remains, for the War Graves Trust in NZ. The photos end up in museums and history books. He described the challenges, and triumphs. Like in any photographic project, they go hand in hand.
I arrived at the cemetery in downtown Kanchanaburi only a half hour or so before the sun was due to sink below the trees. A great time for light glancing across the headstones, passing through the flowers, casting long shadows through the trees. There’s something poetic about the whole notion of ‘sunset’. You’ve only to capture one in a photo and it evokes emotions – which emotions I guess vary among viewers.
Sooner or later the ethical question of whether to show names and dates comes into it. But instead I decided to go ultra-wide. I can’t help feeling that with war cemeteries the central issue is the overwhelming number of lost lives. Going in close on one stone doesn’t bring home the message that many thousands of men lost their lives in the struggle.
Of course, an entirely different message could be taken from going in close. An individual, a name, a birthdate, a message or token left by loved ones, evokes thoughts of an individual one-off unique life lost, and the stones in the background help to expand that message out to the reality of the many other thousands who also suffered.
I’ve visited many war cemeteries before, being an Aussie who grew up with stories of heroism and ‘baptisms of fire’ everywhere from Turkey to north Africa to Belgium to New Guinea. I wanted to see the remnants, to breathe the air in those locales, to walk the ground, to indulge in some imaginings of what those days were like and what those people went through. But I have to admit – war cemeteries always leave me confused. Sure, they’re deeply and painfully poignant reminders of the cost of war – that’s undeniable. But if they really had any meaningful impact on the people who viewed them, how could we ever justify war again? (Warning: pacifist on a rant!) If lessons were ever learned from these monuments and memorials, our leaders would be ousted the very moment they raised the possibility of risking lives again and again in the name of geo-political/economic influence. But perhaps that gets us to the point – somehow we DO believe the loss of life is worth it. (Of course, the situation in WWII was very different to the dirty little wars that go on nowadays in the name of oil and influence – I’m not comparing them.) My point is: if we really believed – knew in our bones – that war really was the last resort, as we always say it should be, then we would have nothing to do with the war-mongering lies of Bush, Blair and Howard. We would have marched on Canberra, removed that sinister moral midget from office, and seen to it that our military insignia will not grace any more sad and lonely memorials around the world.
But no, the wars go on, the lies and made-up justifications go on, and the war cemeteries continue to spring up or grow. While walking those rows of stones, I often dream of a day when war will finally universally be held in such horror, that the prospect of volunteering lives for the senseless ambitions of self-centred leaders is so abhorrent, that we will take any and all measures to stop it. I’ve heard the word ‘naive’ bandied about when someone makes such remarks, but those who think this kind of talk is naive are often the same who can express sorrow at the sight of a war grave, and then express anger and hatred towards people they perceive as the modern day threat – those with cone hats or red flags or turbans, depending on their bent. Again, I contend that war itself – like hatred – can and must be defeated.
Then dusk – the most enjoyable light of all – was spent at the River Kwai Bridge, the symbol of the railway that cost so many allied and local lives. Long exposures of this kind demand a tripod, but I didn’t bring one on this trip since I would only need it a couple of times in several weeks. Instead, I used a method I invented some time ago. I’ll reveal it one day when I’ve taken a patent out on it 
This entry was posted on Saturday, December 12th, 2009 at 08:53. It is filed under commentary and tagged with kanchanaburi, photo, thailand, war, www.indochinaimages.com.
You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
Death Railway, Kanchanaburi, Thailand
So I spent sunset and dusk yesterday rushing from the Allied War Cemetery in Kanchanaburi to the River Kwai Bridge. If you’re not among the many millions of tourists who have passed through this infamous place west of Bangkok, here’s a canned history. In 1942, after capturing SE Asia, the Japanese decided to build a railway for supplies, from Burma to Thailand. It was an important strategic move that would extend their reach all the way towards India, it was hoped. For manpower, they used the many tens of 1,000s of allied POWs in their custody, as well as even more civilian ‘slaves’. The reason the site is still so visited and remembered today has a lot to do with the death toll – approximately 115,000 people over little more than a year.
Anyway, how to photograph a war cemetery? Only days ago, I met a New Zealand photographer in Calcutta who has a very odd job – to photograph the war cemeteries throughout the world that contain NZ remains, for the War Graves Trust in NZ. The photos end up in museums and history books. He described the challenges, and triumphs. Like in any photographic project, they go hand in hand.
I arrived at the cemetery in downtown Kanchanaburi only a half hour or so before the sun was due to sink below the trees. A great time for light glancing across the headstones, passing through the flowers, casting long shadows through the trees. There’s something poetic about the whole notion of ‘sunset’. You’ve only to capture one in a photo and it evokes emotions – which emotions I guess vary among viewers.
Sooner or later the ethical question of whether to show names and dates comes into it. But instead I decided to go ultra-wide. I can’t help feeling that with war cemeteries the central issue is the overwhelming number of lost lives. Going in close on one stone doesn’t bring home the message that many thousands of men lost their lives in the struggle.
Of course, an entirely different message could be taken from going in close. An individual, a name, a birthdate, a message or token left by loved ones, evokes thoughts of an individual one-off unique life lost, and the stones in the background help to expand that message out to the reality of the many other thousands who also suffered.
I’ve visited many war cemeteries before, being an Aussie who grew up with stories of heroism and ‘baptisms of fire’ everywhere from Turkey to north Africa to Belgium to New Guinea. I wanted to see the remnants, to breathe the air in those locales, to walk the ground, to indulge in some imaginings of what those days were like and what those people went through. But I have to admit – war cemeteries always leave me confused. Sure, they’re deeply and painfully poignant reminders of the cost of war – that’s undeniable. But if they really had any meaningful impact on the people who viewed them, how could we ever justify war again? (Warning: pacifist on a rant!) If lessons were ever learned from these monuments and memorials, our leaders would be ousted the very moment they raised the possibility of risking lives again and again in the name of geo-political/economic influence. But perhaps that gets us to the point – somehow we DO believe the loss of life is worth it. (Of course, the situation in WWII was very different to the dirty little wars that go on nowadays in the name of oil and influence – I’m not comparing them.) My point is: if we really believed – knew in our bones – that war really was the last resort, as we always say it should be, then we would have nothing to do with the war-mongering lies of Bush, Blair and Howard. We would have marched on Canberra, removed that sinister moral midget from office, and seen to it that our military insignia will not grace any more sad and lonely memorials around the world.
But no, the wars go on, the lies and made-up justifications go on, and the war cemeteries continue to spring up or grow. While walking those rows of stones, I often dream of a day when war will finally universally be held in such horror, that the prospect of volunteering lives for the senseless ambitions of self-centred leaders is so abhorrent, that we will take any and all measures to stop it. I’ve heard the word ‘naive’ bandied about when someone makes such remarks, but those who think this kind of talk is naive are often the same who can express sorrow at the sight of a war grave, and then express anger and hatred towards people they perceive as the modern day threat – those with cone hats or red flags or turbans, depending on their bent. Again, I contend that war itself – like hatred – can and must be defeated.
Then dusk – the most enjoyable light of all – was spent at the River Kwai Bridge, the symbol of the railway that cost so many allied and local lives. Long exposures of this kind demand a tripod, but I didn’t bring one on this trip since I would only need it a couple of times in several weeks. Instead, I used a method I invented some time ago. I’ll reveal it one day when I’ve taken a patent out on it
This entry was posted on Saturday, December 12th, 2009 at 08:53. It is filed under commentary and tagged with kanchanaburi, photo, thailand, war, www.indochinaimages.com. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.