Le Guelte on Foliard (2022)

Daniel Foliard’s The Violence of Colonial Photography is the English translation of Combattre, punir, photographier: empires coloniaux, 1890–1914, originally published with La Découverte in 2020. This compelling study examines the emergence of a visual economy of violence within the context of French and British imperial campaigns in Africa and Asia at the turn of the twentieth century. Foliard examines not only these colonial wars but also conflicts on the periphery of imperial influence, such as the Boxer Rebellion in China. He argues that the diverse and nuanced photographic practices emerging from these conflicts contributed to the creation of a vast and complex visual archive of atrocities, death, and combat. This rich and often overlooked visual production, Foliard argues, reveals the distinct regimes of visibility that governed these distant colonial wars. At the same time, they played a pivotal role in defining colonial discourse, while simultaneously exposing the underlying tensions and anxieties that shaped it. In this study, Foliard demonstrates that imagery of human suffering and destruction was already being shaped and circulated in colonial contexts—long before the First World War, which is often regarded as the crucible of modern visual representations of violence.

This book draws on an impressive range of public and private archives, thoroughly examining and contextualizing over eighty representative photographs emanating from diverse sources. These include, for instance, the private collections of soldiers and army officers, the work of professional photographers in the colonies, colonial photographic studios, and images published in the French and British press. Foliard’s methodological approach is both sound and nuanced, offering a sophisticated analysis of the conditions of visibility and, conversely, the “mechanisms of concealment” that determined the varying purposes and degrees of circulation of these images. Some, as the author highlights, were kept in private albums shared only within a small group of select soldiers and are discussed here for the first time. Others gained immediate visibility, such as those published in the metropolitan press or transformed into postcards by local studios reaching both European settlers/soldiers and the local population. All, however, contributed to—and stand as a testament to—the crucial formation of a visual language of violence that influenced military and metropolitan perceptions of colonial warfare, repression, and the shifting norms of visual acceptability during the Belle Époque era. Foliard examines the intense debates, or at times the deafening indifference, that these photographs provoked in Britain and France regarding the nature of colonial conquest, the justification (or lack thereof) of violence, and, particularly fascinating, the ethical dilemmas surrounding the display of such violent imagery—issues that emerged far earlier than scholars have traditionally recognized.

The book is structured into nine distinct chapters. Chapter one delves into the “mechanisms of repulsion and erasure” (8) central to the photographic capture, collection, and visualization of colonial violence. This chapter sets the stage for the book’s theoretical and methodological approach. Notably, Foliard addresses the ethics of viewing and displaying such harrowing images of extreme violence, arguing that their study and deconstruction is crucial to preventing the further silencing of victims, who have already been marginalized by the “strategies of concealment and destruction” (15) employed by both British and French colonial authorities to sanitize their problematic archives. Chapter two focuses on the photographic camera as both an instrument of colonial infiltration and a weapon used to control and order colonial bodies, thereby shaping practices of violence. Yet Foliard compellingly challenges conventional interpretations of colonial photography, emphasizing the potential for resistance on the part of photographed subjects, even in defeat. Furthermore, the author skillfully demonstrates that the violence depicted in these photographs often exceeded the scope of the images themselves, offering possibilities for counter discourses and flexible interpretations that resisted fixed meanings. Chapters three and four trace the evolution of photographers and techniques adopted during the era of colonial expansion; highlighting how the increasing democratization of photography spurred a range of experimentations in the capture of conflict. These innovations transcended geographical boundaries, resulting in the creation of new visual rhetorics that framed and communicated violence in unprecedented ways. Chapter five explores the various coexisting colonial regimes of visibility that shaped the visual representation of extreme violence. Focusing on the materiality of these images—such as their classification in soldiers’ private albums or their inclusion in personal correspondence—Foliard examines the complex and often unstable systems that either facilitated or obstructed the visibility of such photographs. 

Chapter six focuses on subverted and subversive images that were made visible to the public, igniting passionate debates and competing interpretations that underscored the malleability of photographic meaning. Foliard argues that the manipulation of images of mass violence was an inevitable consequence of their exposure, as recontextualized or reversed images could shift meaning depending on the context of their viewing. This includes photographs that denounced colonial violence as well as those deliberately altered to support alternative narratives. Chapter seven focuses on “trophy” images of dead enemies, analyzing their unstable power to either reinforce or subvert colonial discourse. Chapter eight examines photographs of dead European fighters, showing how these images could be used for memorialization or to highlight the brutal realities of wars that were only small in name. Finally, chapter nine explores the various pathways that increased the visibility of these photographs before 1914, such as the rise of mass illustrated media, and how they were received in metropolitan contexts.

Foliard’s study is both compelling and meticulously crafted, already establishing itself as a must-read for scholars of colonial military and cultural history, the history of photography, and the visual cultures of imperialism. A key strength of this study is the author’s insightful engagement with photographs. Far from being mere illustrations, these are systematically and carefully deconstructed and placed in their broader context. Foliard also resists the common tendency to present photography as an all-powerful tool of Western imperial power, regularly emphasizing the possibility of agency for photographed subjects and the articulation of counter-visual strategies, which would later become crucial weapons of anti-imperialist activism in the interwar years. This study seamlessly integrates both professional and amateur photography, offering an insightful examination of the nuanced ways photography was used to shape competing and diverse visions of colonial violence. Throughout the book, Foliard avoids sweeping generalizations, remaining acutely aware of the limitations inherent in selective and fragmented colonial archives. In sum, this study is a must-read and stands as one of the most significant and exciting contributions to the field of photography and imperialism to date.