Allan Sekula's Concept of 'The Other' in Photography
The Other is a concept forged by photographer Allan Sekula in his article, “The Body and the Archive.” The other “refers to that which is 'other' than the concept being considered. The term often means a person other than oneself, and is often capitalised. The Other is singled out as different.”[1] The subject is merely that, a subject being used for documentation purposes. They are wholly separate from the people who are viewing the photograph. The viewer observes, analyzes, and may even gawk at the face and body of the person being presented in the photograph. The subject is therefore the viewer’s educational benefit and personal amusement; they are essentially a commodity with no real sense of humanity.
The concept of The Other relates to the early uses of photography to diagnose illness and mental stability in the sense that science and medicine used photography as a form of documentation in order to draw certain conclusions about humans. People in science and medicine could easily bypass the fact that there are actual people in the photographs, not just specimens for them to study. This is like how doctors are taught to view the body of their patients objectively, as something they must observe to discover illnesses and treatments. In regards to mental instability, photography was used to uncover certain mental illnesses by capturing patterns in patients. Dr. Hugh Welch Diamond, for example, attempted to portray insanity through the similarities amongst his patients’ facial expressions.[2] People like Diamond seemed to believe that there was no harm in their work, as they were using photography as a means to to further a positive cause or scientific breakthrough.
Positivism is a nineteenth century philosophical doctrine that holds that “every rationally justifiable assertion can be scientifically verified, or is capable of logical or mathematical proof.”[3] 19th century photographers who were influenced by positivism thought that it was possible to understand anything in the natural world, including the human condition and behavior, through scientific tools and procedures.[4] Positivism values statistical analysis in its assumption that science can measure and understand everything.[5] Sekula notes that “For nineteenth-century positivists, photography doubly fulfilled the Enlightenment dream of a universal language: the universal mimetic language of the camera yielded up a higher, more cerebral truth, a truth that could be uttered in the universal abstract language of mathematics.”[6] Based on its ideology, positivism appears to have had an influence in early scientific uses of the photograph, as well as other records of human physiognomy, as these types of photographs were searching for accurate scientific truth. Positivist photographers believed that what they were capturing had to be truthful and accurate because it was a depiction of real life, and they were using valid scientific means to achieve it. In his journal article, “Analytical Photography: Portraiture, from the Index to the Epidermis,” Ken Gonzales-Day expands on the scientific documentation aspect of photography in the nineteenth century:
In the nineteenth century, photographic images were seen as a radically objective form of documentation, replacing the subjectivity of hand-drawn sketches and illustrations. These new images held the promise of mechanical precision. For the first time, scientists could communicate the precise curve of a smile with something more than a mathematical formula. Some of the earliest applications of photography involved attempts to correlate the functioning of the human mind with the appearance of the human body. Phrenology, eugenics, early psychology, physiognomy, and criminology all made use of photographic technologies.[7]
Physiognomy was one form of photographic documentation that took influence from positivist ideologies. By studying a person’s facial features, it was believed that certain characteristics could be drawn; a person’s physical appearance supposedly correlated to their personality traits.[8] Going on the basis of positivism, photographers in science and medicine most likely felt completely justified in their method of dehumanizing someone for a photograph, as it was being done for research purposes. These people may have thought that their photographs were an entirely accurate and trustworthy depiction of real life because they cannot be altered in the same way as paintings or artwork, so whatever conclusions drawn from the photographs were meant to be trusted.
Duchenne de Boulogne was a French neurologist who used physiognomy to take a look at the muscles in the face in relation to human emotion. Boulogne photographed one of his patients in an attempt to see if there is a clear and identifiable look for human emotions amongst all people. He wanted to know if everyone moves their muscles in the same way when they are communicating the various emotions of anger, sadness, happiness, fear, and so on.[9] Boulogne wanted photographic evidence to measure his hypothesis. In one case, Boulogne electrocuted his patient to get him to express pain and fear in his face; he would then take note of the way the patient’s muscles contracted and formed wrinkles in some areas.[10] This is clearly an inhumane form of abuse, as Boulogne took advantage of the patient by making him endure severe pain for the sake of his experiment. In this instance, the patient being photographed is no longer viewed as a human being, but rather, he is The Other; his care and safety have been disregarded because he is being used for science. Sekula describes The Other as “overtly practical and ‘technical’ in its aims, if only covertly theoretical.”[11] According to Gonzales-Day, “The idea of semantic traffic or message of which Sekula writes can be applied to the control [Boulogne] achieved in his own arrangement of the portraits into grids. The grid format promoted comparative analysis over aesthetic contemplation and was a recurring element within such early scientific projects.”[12] This commentary further examines Sekula’s concept of The Other, as Boulogne proves he is not photographing his patients for art, but is instead genuinely set on coming to a scientific discovery. Therefore, combining photography and physiognomy, in the eyes of doctors and scientists like Boulogne, is totally ethical because it is for the greater good.
Alphonse Bertillon’s anthropometric photos and Francis Galton’s composite portraits at first glance appear to be somewhat similar. Both of their photographs display people in a very formal and serious manner, posing to have their measurements taken. Despite this similarity, Sekula argues that the photographs had “strikingly different results.”[13] Bertillon was a Paris police officer who created the first effective form of criminal identification, known today as the mugshot. Bertillon combined portrait photography with anthropometric description and written notes on a card; he would then organize and file the cards comprehensively using statistics.[14] Galton was an English statistician who founded eugenics and invented composite portraits. Galton’s “interest in heredity and racial ‘betterment’ led him to join in the search for a biologically determined ‘criminal type.’ Through one of his several applications of composite portraiture, Galton attempted to construct a purely optical apparition of the criminal type.”[15] The projects invented by these two men are “strikingly different” because of Bertillon and Galton’s intentions. Bertillon’s invention was yet another instance of using photography for official documentation; it was a way to assist police officers by measuring and accounting for the people being arrested. Sekula describes Bertillon’s aims as “practical and operational, a response to the demands of urban police work and the politics of fragmented class struggle during the Third Republic.”[16] Galton’s project did not have the same practical goals as Bertillon’s. “Galton sought to intervene in human reproduction by means of public policy, encouraging the propagation of the ‘fit,’ and discouraging or preventing outright that of the ‘unfit.’”[17] By attempting to determine what a criminal type would look like and what superior genetics looked like for better breeding, Galton’s composite portraits were a definite form of racism. Galton generalized people by grouping them together as either criminal or superior solely based on their appearance. Anyone walking down the street who matches Galton’s criminal type is sure to face racial prejudice as a result of his project. Galton’s system was supposed to be for the “betterment” of society, which meant that once he figured out a criminal type, he likely intended for people in society to act on it. This could mean surveying certain people and waiting for the first opportunity to catch and imprison them; this is no different from racial profiling today.
When photography is used to surveil and control people, it inevitably becomes a means to profile people, as well as turn them into The Other. Starting from the nineteenth century, when photography was becoming a popular tool for identifying criminals, the body, and facial expressions, photographic subjects easily became part of an archive and nothing more. More specifically, in his Journal article, “Photography: a means of surveillance? Judicial photography, 1850 to 1900,” Jens Jäger discusses the beneficial impact photography had on law enforcement. “Agencies of law enforcement took pains to build up registers of their clients and took a keen interest in reliable methods of identification. The burgeoning sciences of anthropology, medicine, and biology began to suggest scientific solutions to the problem.”[18] Before they were able to photograph criminals, it was a hassle for law enforcement to identify them. Jäger argues that once police began to use photography, their approach “appears to be purely empirical. [Detectives and senior police officers] probably used photographs just as they used their own pictures: as a memory aid in the broadest sense.”[19] While this may be true of law enforcement in the nineteenth century, the practice of criminal photography has evolved and overtime created racial prejudices seen in the present day. In “The Body and the Archive,” Sekula writes about surveillance and how the government observes its people and collects data and information on them that may later be used against them.[20] People, primarily law enforcement, who capture images of criminals may, whether consciously or unconsciously, develop an idea of what they believe a criminal would look like based on what they have seen in their photographic documents. Although a form of portrait photography, photographing criminals did not hold the same value or respect, as it intended for convenience and recordkeeping. Jäger speaks to this type of portrait photography that lacks individuality:
It is well worth recalling that the common photographic portrait was a sign of respectability, and the arrangements in the studios represented, or hinted at, a respectable environment. Other forms of portraiture, such as anthropological studies or images of savages, artisans or farmers, were either intended as scientific materials or historical documents, or formed part of artistic compositions. Here, the individuality of the human subjects was of secondary importance.[21]
Criminal photography is in the same category as scientific, medical, and anthropological photography, as it dehumanizes people for the sake of official documentation. The people being photographed become The Other and cannot help it because they are part of a system that requires their cooperation.
We are all part of an unavoidable system that we agree to abide by simply by living. This system requires each of us to be accounted for through official documentation by photographing our faces and recording the measurements of our bodies. Officials need to have updated evidence of us, of the way we look. This is all standard information we must supply in order to get by in life; for example, when getting a driver’s license, going to the hospital, attending school, and in many other cases. Typically, in these mundane instances, there isn’t much of a problem. It becomes a problem when the subject of a photograph becomes a victim of racial profiling, or becomes The Other. When some official photographs are taken, the photographers and people in a given field, be that law enforcement, science, or medicine, do not care for the wellbeing of the individual in the photograph. This individual becomes The Other, an object being used for surveillance and taken advantage of for the benefit of others.
[1]Denise Johnson. “Scientific Specimens.” The Slide Projector. http://www.theslideprojector.com/ah331/ah331lecturepresentations/ah331lecture10.html.
[2] Denise Johnson, “Scientific Specimens” (History of Photography, Chapman University, Orange, March 3, 2021).
[3] Denise Johnson, “Imaging Freedom” (History of Photography, Chapman University, Orange, March 10, 2021).
[4] Denise Johnson, “Scientific Specimens” (History of Photography, Chapman University, Orange, March 3, 2021).
[5] Denise Johnson, “Imaging Freedom” (History of Photography, Chapman University, Orange, March 10, 2021).
[6] Allan Sekula, “The Body and the Archive.” October, vol. 39 (1986), 17. JSTOR. https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu/
[7] Ken Gonzales-Day, “Analytical Photography: Portraiture, from the Index to the Epidermis.” Leonardo 35, no. 1 (2002), 23. JSTOR. https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu/
[8] Denise Johnson, “Scientific Specimens” (History of Photography, Chapman University, Orange, March 3, 2021).
[9] Denise Johnson, “Scientific Specimens” (History of Photography, Chapman University, Orange, March 3, 2021).
[10] Denise Johnson, “Scientific Specimens” (History of Photography, Chapman University, Orange, March 3, 2021).
[11] Allan Sekula, “The Body and the Archive.” October, vol. 39 (1986), 18. JSTOR. https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu
[12] Ken Gonzales-Day, “Analytical Photography: Portraiture, from the Index to the Epidermis.” Leonardo 35, no. 1 (2002), 24. JSTOR. https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu/
[13] Allan Sekula, “The Body and the Archive.” October, vol. 39 (1986), 18. JSTOR. https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu/
[14] Allan Sekula, “The Body and the Archive.” October, vol. 39 (1986), 18. JSTOR. https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu/
[15] Allan Sekula, “The Body and the Archive.” October, vol. 39 (1986), 18-19. JSTOR. https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu/
[16] Allan Sekula, “The Body and the Archive.” October, vol. 39 (1986), 19. JSTOR. https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu/
[17] Allan Sekula, “The Body and the Archive.” October, vol. 39 (1986), 19 JSTOR. .https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu/
[18] Jens Jäger, “Photography: a means of surveillance? Judicial photography, 1850 to 1900.” Crime, Histoire & Sociétés / Crime, History & Societies 5, no. 1 (2001), 28. JSTOR. https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu/
[19] Jens Jäger, “Photography: a means of surveillance? Judicial photography, 1850 to 1900.” Crime, Histoire & Sociétés / Crime, History & Societies 5, no. 1 (2001), 28. JSTOR. https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu/
[20] Denise Johnson, “Scientific Specimens” (History of Photography, Chapman University, Orange, March 3, 2021).
[21] Jens Jäger, “Photography: a means of surveillance? Judicial photography, 1850 to 1900.” Crime, Histoire & Sociétés / Crime, History & Societies 5, no. 1 (2001), 29. JSTOR. https://www-jstor-org.libproxy.chapman.edu/