7 - Tangled History and Photographic (In)Visibility: Ho Chi Minh on the Edge of French Political Culture

Summary

Culture becomes as much an uncomfortable disturbing practice of survival and supplementarity between arts and politics, past and present, the public and the private.

(Bhabha, 1994: 175)

On photography

In a letter dated 6 July 1920, L. Josselme, the head of the Indochinese Postal Control in Marseilles, complains in the following terms about the photograph of Nguyên Ai Quôc he has just received from the Résident Supérieur: ‘elle est absolument invisible, ayant jauni par progression depuis son arrivée’ [it is entirely invisible, having progressively yellowed since its arrival], adding that this deterioration ‘m'oblige à vous demander de vouloir bien m'en adresser un autre exemplaire mieux fixé’ [forces me to ask you kindly to send another more permanent, better fixed copy] (Gaspard, 1992: 101–02). Nguyên Ai Quôc was suspected of being none other than the Nguyên That Tanh who had taken part in a popular uprising against the French in Annam in 1908. The photograph was eagerly awaited to verify and prove his identity. Photography, very early on, had become an integral part of the panoptic apparatus of surveillance deployed by the French Sûreté, both in the colonies and at home, to keep track of potentially dangerous natives. By becoming invisible, the photograph became the failed site of an authoritative marking of the subject's identity.