The words of James Bridle, the guy behind Dronestagram, explain really eloquently what he is trying to achieve by posting these images: to undo some of the flattening, distancing effect of drone warfare by foregrounding surveillance through the Google Earth satellites' views of sites where drone strikes have taken place - and to provoke thinking about how, from a distance in space or time, we can know hardly anything substantial about a place, or the humanity of those who inhabit it, which allows us to perpetrate atrocities without a commensurate sense of responsibility or empathy:
Wadi al Abu Jabara. Beit al Ahan. Jaar. Dhamar. Al-Saeed. Tappi. Bulandkhel. Hurmuz. Khaider khel. These are the names of places. They are towns, villages, junctions and roads. They are the names of places where people live and work, where there are families and schools. They are the names of places in Afghanistan and Yemen, which are linked by one thing: they have each been the location of drone strikes...Â
...They are the names of places most of us will never see. We do not know these landscapes and we cannot visit them.
What can reach them are drones, what can see themâif not entirely know themâare drones. At anywhere between five and fifty thousand feet, the drones are impervious to the weapons of the people below them, and all-seeing across the landscape. Drones are just the latest in a long line of military technologies augmenting the process of death-dealing, but they are among the most efficient, the most distancing, the most invisible. These qualities allow them to do what they do unseen, and create the context for secret, unaccountable, endless wars. Whether you think these killings are immoral or not, most of them are by any international standard illegal.
... I have been posting images of the locations of drone strikes to the photo-sharing site Instagram as they occur (thereâs more on the methodology on James' blog, HERE). Making these locations just a little bit more visible, a little closer. A little more real.
The political and practical possibilities of drone strikes are the consequence of invisible, distancing technologies, and a technologically-disengaged media and society. Foreign wars and foreign bodies have always counted for less, but the technology that was supposed to bring us closer together is used to obscure and obfuscate. We use military technologies like GPS and Kinect for work and play; they continue to be used militarily to maim and kill, ever further away and ever less visibly.
Yet at the same time we are attempting to build a 1:1 map of the world through satellite and surveillance technologies, that does allow us to see these landscapes, should we choose to go there. These technologies are not just for âorganisingâ information, they are also for revealing it, for telling us something new about the world around us, rendering it more clearly.
History, like space, is coproduced by us and our technologies: those technologies include satellite mapping, social photo sharing from handheld devices, and fleets of flying death robots. We should engage with them at every level. These are just images of foreign landscapes, still; yet we have got better at immediacy and intimacy online: perhaps we can be better at empathy too.
SOURCE: http://booktwo.org/notebook/dronestagram-drones-eye-view/
There are resonances here for me with the work of Jo Ractliffe in shooting empty photographs of landscapes where acts of violence have occurred - the absence of physical evidence of the bloodshed hums loudly, residually, despite the quiescence of the scenery. In both Bridle's and Ractliffe's work, the events bleed outside of the moment when the shutter clicks.
In 1999, speaking of this leaky quality, Ractliffe said of her work:Â
"What interests me are things that are ephemeral - desire, loss, longing - and their relationship to photography. I am also curious about what we don't expect from photographs, what they leave out, their silence and the spaces they occupy between 'reality' and 'desire'. I try to work in an area between the things we know and things we don't know; what sits outside the frame. I am interested in exploring these oblique... 'spaces of betweenness', and in how they figure in producing meaning in a mode of representation that seems so often predicated on specificity and transparency. Photography is quite a resistant and unforgiving medium."
Ractliffe's work, such as Vlakplaas (1999), is haunted in a different way to Bridle's, though: her images are made after the violent events in question. Dronestagrams, by contrast, are disturbing in that the shots lifted from Google Earth actually existed before the drones' shots were fired... In fact, they may have been used in planning the strikes: in this way, they foreshadow the violence from way up above and before.