In the second part of his photo feature on the US military in Afghanistan, Keiron Allen photographs signs and graffiti at Camp Salerno, and reflects on humour as a way of dealing with death and life.
Romeo: Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
Mercutio: No, tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but tis enough, twill serve: ask me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man.
Romeo and Juliet (III, i)
Robert Graves in his autobiography Goodbye to All That (1929) describes in great detail a hand sticking out of a World War I trench wall. Every soldier who walked past shook hands with it, apparently displaying no respect or fear. The situation in Afghanistan is, of course, not as dark or as extreme as those faced by the soldiers of the Great War; however the soldiers still face danger on a daily basis and have to create their own ways of coping with it.
Its important to realise that the images that follow were produced for only one audience their creators. Were about to sneak past the box office to a privileged and private theatre without paying the due admission price. The price being: the constant threat of danger and the regular sights of gore, both of friend and stranger; and long periods of living under canvas with little privacy. As a result, theres no guarantee well understand what we see. Click here for part one of Keirón Allens photo feature: Humanising a beast the American military
These signs and graffiti images around Camp Salerno are part of a long tradition of non-regulation military art; be it on the nose of the plane or the side of a wall. They are slightly illicit in nature. There are regulations against decorating military equipment with anything but officially sanctioned markings. However on the most part they are unofficially condoned (if they arent I apologise if I have got anyone into trouble).
The subject matter too becomes more illicit in nature, as, under the conditions of war, in which death and wounding are the prominent concerns, moral controls relax slightly. Historically, the farther from home and command headquarters, the more daring was the art. Keirón Allen is organising an exhibition with other photographers on Hope and Humour in Afghanistan. This is an open invitation to send him any positive depictions people may have of the situation in Afghanistan. Please email keironallen@hotmail.com
This gallows humour is not unique to the armed forces. In fact, it is common within the emergency services as well. The Australian Journal of Disaster and Trauma Studies reported that experienced paramedics did not think humour used at work could be shared with family and friends because it was spontaneous, situation specific and because other people would not appreciate it or get the point; they would think you were sick crying does not seem to help us do our (job) better whereas laughter does.
This sort of humour has to tread very carefully within the civilian world as we are by far, the most critical and unforgiving of audiences. It has taken a long while for us to be able to laugh at the grim events of 9/11 for example, and what is funny, as in, acceptable humour lies within a very narrow corridor. I recall the 27 September edition of The Onion where the headlines read:
Hijackers Surprised To Find Themselves in Hell; We Expected Eternal Paradise For This, Say Suicide Bombers. And US Vows To Defeat Whoever It Is Were At War With, along with God Angrily Clarifies Dont Kill Rule.
The art is created for a number of reasons. In a camp with little privacy and space, unofficial artwork can be used to personalise tightly-controlled areas occupied by individuals or small groups and establish boundaries between those different groups that have to share the ownership of the space. In the past it was to strike terror at the heart of the enemy and perhaps give a release from the anonymity and uniformity of military life.
It can help bind groups of people together and help them overcome situations which they possibly would not be able to face otherwise. The loss of humour can be a predictor of poor coping or symptomatic of other conditions such as depression. My favourite reason is that it represents: A lifelong campaign to repeal the death sentence nature has imposed on us all (William Boyd).
But ultimately, and why these images struck such a chord with me, was how they echoed my actions and language just days before my father finally succumbed to his seven year war of attrition with cancer. He was a master of the genre himself: Ill tell you when Im going to die son after my mother had listened too hard to an exaggerated rumour; and so were the rest of the residents in the Oncology ward. Near to the end, my sister and I, not knowing how or what to react to within the lino-smelling hospice room, invented a macabre sweepstake of measuring the time between my fathers faltering breaths.
Horrific in retrospect. It was a mind-saver at the time. As an individual facing my own death I would hope that I would rage, rage, against the dying of the light. As someone who must live with the threat of it I would want to laugh thereby cheating death for a short time. And I think, this is something that we all share.
But before we take our seats to our somewhat illicit show Id like to leave you with a trench poem published in The Listening Post, 1917 that still has resonance today:
This front line stuff
Is pretty tough
In spite of what the papers say
Newspaper bluff
And kindred guff
Make out that were ALWAYS feeling gay
SOMETIMES we are
We never bar
A hearty laugh in camp or trench
But it would jar
An armoured car
To take it ALL without a wrench
CURTAINS PLEASE
Hope and Humour in Afghanistan: chapter two
A different kind of humour: Tent signs at Camp Salerno, Afghanistan
Keirón Allen is organising an exhibition with other photographers on Hope and Humour in Afghanistan. This is an open invitation to send him any positive depictions people may have of the situation in Afghanistan. Please email keironallen@hotmail.com.
