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2014 SAGE Publications
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DOI: 10.1177/0096144214533288
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Article
The Optics of Urban Ruination:
Toward an Archaeological
Approach to the Photography of
the Japan Air Raids
David Fedman
1
and Cary Karacas
2
Abstract
World War II yielded many photographs of bombed-out cities. In this paper we telescope
between two sets and scales of images that represent the principal frames through which the
American and Japanese publics have memorialized the incendiary bombings that laid waste to
urban Japan: aerial photographs taken by the US Army Air Forces during its wartime planning,
prosecution, and assessment of the raids; and the ground-level images captured by Ishikawa
Ko
yo
yo
: Calamitys Witness
Prior to the arrival of the air war to the Japanese homeland, Ishikawa had already demonstrated
tremendous range as a photographer. While earning a living in the 1930s by documenting acci-
dent sites and illicit activities for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, he regularly trained his cam-
eras lens on the rapidly changing scenes of everyday life in the capital. His early portfolio thus
stands as something of a homage to an increasingly modernized Tokyo.
54
In 1931, Ishikawa
walked through key sections of the capital with his Leica camera in hand, taking photographs of
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Fedman and Karacas 9
electric trams passing the Matsuzakaya Department Store in Ueno, cafs in Kenji, and school-
girls window-shopping in the Ginza. His camera thereafter captured darker, more ominous
scenes: a shot from 1935 of the visiting titular head of the puppet state of Manchukuo sitting next
to Emperor Hirohito as they rode in a horse-drawn carriage through the Yoyogi parade ground; a
shot of a wintery February day in 1936 when a group of radicalized soldiers attempted a violent
coup dtat; a shot from 1937 of drafted men bowing before the Meiji Shrine before leaving to
fight in the Second Sino-Japanese War. It was not long before Ishikawa also turned his attention
to the various drills forced upon Tokyoites. Air defense drills. Shelter drills. Civil defense drills.
Firefighting drills. All became a recurring theme of Ishikawas photography in the late 1930s,
and increasingly so following the first U.S. air raid on Tokyo in April 1942.
The commencement of sustained American air raids on Tokyo in late 1944 prompted a further
shift in Ishikawas documentary duties. Upon returning to the darkroom at the Metropolitan
Police headquarters to process the images he had taken of the damage wrought by the first major
raid on the capital on November 24, Ishikawa was summoned to the office of his section chief,
who told him that more destructive raids on Tokyo were all but certain. Disappointed with the
paucity and quality of official photographic documentation of the 1923 Great Kant Earthquake
that destroyed much of the capital, the section chief made the following request:
Im wondering if I could get you to continue to take photographs that faithfully capture (kokumei ni
toritsuzukete) the efforts of the police and fire-fighting forces at these bombed out areas, as well as
the condition of the damage . . . . we want you to hasten to the scenes of bombings in order to take
photos that compellingly capture their reality (hakushinryoku no aru shashin). You should of course
recognize the danger in this job.
55
Ishikawas charge was to produce what he and his superiors routinely described as lasting
images.
56
In this respect, he belonged to a small group of photographers exempted from a 1943
Ministry of Home Affairs statute prohibiting Japanese citizens from taking photographs of
bombed-out areas so as to prevent their unauthorized dissemination. Over the following months,
air raid sirens became Ishikawas call to duty.
He would then speed in a used Chevrolet on loan from the police department, cherished Leica
camera by his side, toward the falling bombs. The first B-29 air raids on Tokyo, directed at the
Nakajima Aircraft Engine Works plant, required a ten-mile drive west from the city center to the
sparsely populated Musashino region of the metropolis. Beginning in January 1945, however, his
trips were shortened to a matter of minutes when bombers began to target Tokyos more densely
populated areas. Ishikawas photographs of these air raids powerfully convey the fact that,
despite Americas rhetorical commitment to precision bombings, these attacks on strategic sites
often took housing and civilians with them. Human bodies are seen in his photos scattered near
the entrance to the train station in the Yrakuch district, and firemen are shown attempting to
put out flames near the Kyukyodo stationary store in the neighboring Ginza area. Photographs of
air raids in January and February that targeted the city center provided Ishikawa and other author-
ities a glimpse of what was to comemany times overthat March.
The night of March 9, 1945, began like most others, with Ishikawa listening to the radio in his
office at the main police station. He began to ready his camera equipment just before midnight
upon receiving reports of a large number of enemy planes heading toward Tokyo. After hearing
the collective roar of the first waves of hundreds of low-flying B-29s, however, Ishikawa knew
that this raid was unlike the others. He first watched the dreadful spectacle from the roof of the
Metropolitan Police Headquarters as tons of incendiaries fell on the city, but it was not long until
he was speeding down Shwa Dri, one of the capitals main thoroughfares, toward the Asakusa
artisanal and working-class district, which AAF commanders had designated as part of the main
target zone. With flames enveloping his field of vision, Ishikawa detoured to a police station in
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10 Journal of Urban History
nearby Rygoku, where he discovered the police chief at his desk completing paperwork before
abandoning the station to the encroaching flames.
57
What followed were, according to Ishikawa, scenes from hell. His detailed account of that
evening indeed repeatedly invokes infernal metaphors to describe Tokyos destruction. The
demons wings
58
(akuma no tsubasa) rained fire that carbonized corpses which flowed
through the streets like rapids.
59
The elements also conspired against the city to whip up the red
winds (akakaze) that fanned the firestorms: immense incandescent vortices, he wrote, rose in
a number of places, swirling, flattening, sucking whole blocks of houses into a maelstrom of
fire.
60
Widespread chaos, intense heat, and the realization of the need to save his own life pre-
vented Ishikawa from taking any photographs. His Chevrolet destroyed by flames, he slowly
made his way on foot back to the Metropolitan Police Headquarters. After resting his fatigued
body, at around 2 P.M. on March 10 Ishikawa set out to document the aftermath. He saw bodies
piled like mountains (shitai no yama o kizuiteita) and corpses burnt to the point that you could
no longer discern the sex of the body (danjyo no kubetsu mo tsukanai shitai).
61
Ishikawa first
told himself not to photograph such upsetting images, but then, recalling his responsibilities to
capture the reality of the scenes, he began to snap the shutter.
That day Ishikawa took thirty-three photographs of the aftermath of what came to be called
the Great Tokyo Air Raid. Conveying a variety of scenes and scales, these images shed light on
the moments that immediately followed the firebombing. We bear witness to an entire neighbor-
hood reduced to smoldering rubble; homeless monpe-clad women and children carrying their
only possessions in bundles on their backs; and the various ways in which the air raid brought
death to tens of thousands of civilian bodies.
62
In one photograph, a group of men pull corpses
out of the Kikukawa canal located in the former Honjo Ward, providing corroborating visual
evidence to the many survivor accounts that tell of people jumping into the water to escape the
encroaching flames. Other photographs expose the terrible reality that so many faced as they
found themselves surrounded by fires, intentionally created by the AAF in such a way as to block
most possibilities of escape.
No photograph taken by Ishikawa challenges us in this regard more than that of the oya-ko,
the (presumably) mother and child (Figure 2). Centered on the carbonized corpses of an adult
female and an infant by her side, the photograph powerfully conveys the bodily scale of human
suffering that took place within the larger landscape of ruination. The intensity of the conflagra-
tion as it felled and burned alive the adult while she attempted to flee to safety is marked by the
charred bodies of both the female and infant. Particularly arresting are the small patches of bare
skin visible on the females lower-back, a visual marker that she had carried the infant on her
back until being felled by the fire. One aspect of the photograph that further imbues it with mean-
ing is the position of the adults body, with the head and one leg raised in the air. The viewer is
struck with a sense of motion, a sense that she was making one final attempt to raise herself and
child amid the flames.
While photographs such as this one provide an intimate sense of the bodily pain that was
inflicted by the firebombing, they also require much of the viewer. It is one thing to look at such
photographs; it is another thing altogether to comprehend or attach meaning to the actual suffer-
ing it exposes. This, of course, is far from an original observation: photography critics from
Roland Barthes to Susan Sontag have long sought to make sense of the painful labor inherent
to comprehending photographs of violence, pain, and suffering.
63
Sharon Sliwinski perhaps puts
this line of thinking most succinctly when she observes that encountering images of suffering
illuminates the limit of the ability to respond.
64
But while difficult to comprehend, Ishikawas photographs at the very least bear witness to
this suffering. Perhaps the most salient feature of his images is that they point to, often in upset-
ting detail, the ultimate victims of the decision to target Japans cities for destruction. In this
sense, these photographs merit juxtaposition with the thousands of aerial photographs (and their
attendant captions) that mask the bodily scale. Curtis Lemay, a chief proponent of the shift to
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Fedman and Karacas 11
area incendiary raids against Japans cities, threw this point into sharp relief when he stated the
day after the Great Tokyo Air Raid that fire left nothing but twisted, tumbled down rubble in its
path. These facts are incontrovertibly established by reconnaissance photographs taken on the
afternoon of the strike.
65
For Lemay, as others, the thousands of post-strike aerial photographs
of Tokyo conveyed but one scale of destruction to the capital (see Figure 3). Indeed, when look-
ing at such aerial images, the viewer is given the impression that nothing remained following the
conflagration. They fail to reveal what Ishikawas photographs show: the civilian suffering that
occurred at the scale of the lived urban spaces and, most principally, the body.
In this sense, Ishikawas pictures subvert the aerial photograph, which misleadingly show
nothing but rubble in the wide swaths of light grey that dominate the post-strike images.
Demonstrating to the viewer that the fire did leave something besides physical debris, Ishikawas
picturesupon being seen and consideredform a principal currency in what Elizabeth Spelman
terms the economy of circulation that organizes our attention to suffering:
Photographs of this kind burn into memory: it is hard to forget them, even when we want to do so.
. . . [A] brief look, and the contours of consciousness are changed. Receptivity to such photographs
is partly a matter of individual temperament and conviction but also a matter of social location,
collective identification, and political affiliation. The meaning and effects of the images are at once
singular and shared, intimate and public.
66
Ishikawas photographs, however, needed to circulate in order to allow for the creation of such
an economy of attention, and it is to the dissemination of these images that we now turn.
The Comparative Economics of Attention
We now undertake a brief survey of the ways in which aerial and ground photographs circulated
beyond their original provenance within classified government documents to the greater public
Figure 2. Ishikawa Ko
yo
yo
s
photographs in an article about the firebombing of Tokyo.
Source: Reproduced from Shu
yo
kyo
daiku
shu
kyo
ku
shu
yo