A struggle to contextualize photographic images: American print
media and the "Burning Monk."
Lisa M. Skow; George N. Dionisopoulos
Communication Quarterly
Vol.45 No.4
Fall 1997
pp.393-409
COPYRIGHT @ 1997 Eastern Communication Association
In the late Spring of 1963, most Western reporters in Saigon who
knew of Buddhist plans to use staged suicides to protest the
government of President Ngo Dinh Diem, discounted them "as an idle
threat, on grounds that the nonviolent Buddhist faith would never
condone suicide" (Browne, 1965, p. 177). Throughout May the
Buddhists consigned themselves to marches and peaceful gatherings.
By June, it was obvious that these protests "were having no impact
on the general populace," and the foreign news media had "lost
interest completely." Even the Saigon police -- "aware that beating
or arresting robed clerics would prompt the worst kind of publicity"
-- seemed content simply to disperse the audiences, leaving the
monks alone (Browne, 1993, p. 9).
However, the Buddhists were secretly preparing to escalate their
strategy of confrontation. Their experiments had demonstrated that
although gasoline "is easily ignited and burns with great heat, it
is consumed too rapidly to complete the destruction of a human body
and assure death." The monks found that a mixture of equal parts of
gasoline and diesel fuel would "produce a fire that was both intense
and sufficiently long lasting" (Browne, 1993, p. 9).
On June 11, 1963, a march of 300 Buddhist monks and nuns blocked all
entrances to a main traffic intersection in Saigon. Thich Quang Duc,
an elderly monk, was helped from an automobile to a square cushion
placed for him in the middle of the circle of marchers. He sat in
the lotus position and allowed fellow monks to poor the combustible
mixture over him -"soaking his face, body, robes and cushion"
(Browne, 1993, p. 10). When the younger monks stepped away, Thich
Quang Duc struck a match and was immediately engulfed in flames.
"'Oh my God,' cried a Western observer, `oh my God'" ("Trial by
Fire," 1963, p. 32).
The suicide of Thich Quang Duc was captured in an award-winning
series of photographs by Malcolm Browne, one of several Western
reporters that had been "alerted that something dramatic was about
to happen" (Nolting, 1988, p. 112). His photos "circled the globe
faster than Telstar broadcast" ("Road to Freedom," 1963, p. 177).
Today it is widely recognized that Browne's pictures of Quang Duc's
suicide are some of the most powerful visual images to have come out
of a period of our history that would provide other dramatic
photographs over the next decade. The riveting power of Browne's
photographs was such that they focused Americans on an area of the
world that had only received marginal attention up until then. In so
doing, the photographs became a frame through which many Americans
perceived the events in South Vietnam during the Summer and Fall of
1963.
What is not as widely recognized, however, is that while these
visual images engaged the American audience, their meaning -- and
thus the frame they provided -- was the subject of a running dispute
in the American print media. That is, while the visual power of
these photographs was undeniable, elements of the print media
competed with each other to provide the "correct" interpretation of
them. These efforts to interpret Browne's photographs were also
attempts to prescribe for an engaged American public a frame through
which to interpret the news about the unfolding political upheaval
in South Vietnam during this time period. How this frame was
constructed depended largely upon whether it situated the images --
and thus the events they represented -- against a backdrop of
religious oppression or a war for freedom against the communists.
We seek in this essay to examine that dialectical struggle within
the American print media. We undertake this effort for the following
reasons. First, we maintain that this case study offers an
opportunity to extend our rhetorical knowledge concerning visual
images. Lancioni (1996) has observed that during the past few years
a "wide range of visual forms have been the subject of rhetorical
analysis" (p. 398). These analyses have examined the rhetorical
dimensions of documentary photographs (Lancioni, 1996), war
memorials (Foss, 1986), political cartoons (Bostdorff, 1987, Mehurst
& Desousa, 1981) and iconographic images (Olson, 1983, Olson, 1987;
Olson, 1990; Olson, 1991). Although we draw from much of this
previous work, we will illustrate that our case study differs from
previous efforts in fundamental ways. These differences allow us to
examine an important aspect of visual imagery that has been
neglected thus far: the role of discursive rhetoric for providing a
context -- and thus a rhetorical meaning -- for certain visual
messages.
A second reason for our effort is that it allows us to focus on what
many believe constituted a turning point in American media reportage
from Vietnam. It is easy to forget that June 11, 1963 was before any
real domestic opposition to American involvement, before the Tet
Offensive, before the first major American troop build-up in 1965,
even before the Gulf of Tonkin incident and the ensuing Resolution.
On June 11, 1963, most Americans were more preoccupied with the
threats of Alabama Governor George Wallace to block court ordered
integration at the University of Alabama, than with a small country
half a world away. The Summer of 1963 marks an important -- and as
yet unexplored -- watershed in the American experience in Southeast
Asia. As media coverage during this time "finally made Vietnam a
matter of top priority" (Prochnau, 1995, p. 313), involvement there
would begin to occupy a more prominent place in American
consciousness.
Many scholars maintain that American press coverage during the
summer of 1963 was some of the most controversial of the entire war.
Hallin (1986) wrote, "It was during this period especially that the
media were charged with shaping events rather than reporting them,
wrecking American policy in the process" (p. 43). Schlesinger (1965)
maintained that the anti-Diem campaign of the Buddhists "engaged the
sympathy of the American newspapermen and through them many people
in the United States" (p. 987). President Kennedy's Press Secretary,
Pierre Salinger (1966) singled out Browne as one of three reporters
who "devoted their activities in 1963 to the political crisis which
developed in Saigon -- particularly the nasty conflict between the
government and the Buddhists. Whether they intended it or not, their
articles reflected the bitter hatred they had for the Diem
government and their avowed purpose (stated to a number of reporters
in Saigon) to bring down the Diem government" (pp. 325-326).
MacDonald (1973) claimed that the American media were purposefully
distorting coverage during this time to benefit the Buddhists.
Others refer more explicitly to the dramatic impact of Browne's
photographs. The American Ambassador to South Vietnam during this
time period, Frederick Nolting (1988), maintained that "Browne's
photograph of the old man sitting motionless in the midst of the
flames shocked the world," and turned American public opinion
"firmly against President Diem" (p. 112). MacDonald (1973) believed
that Browne's photographs produced an "exaggerated" impression of
what was truly going on in South Vietnam. Prochnau (1995) observed,
"So much did Mal Browne's photos jar history that more than three
decades later one is still . . . part of a tourist attraction in . .
. Ho Chi Mihn City" (p. 309). Browne (1993) himself, observes
similarly that the "spectacular self-immolation of the Buddhist monk
made headlines, helped to bring down a government, changed the
course of a war and found a place in the history books" (p. 3).
Our analysis proceeds in the following manner. First, we examine
some of the previous work concerning the rhetorical aspects of
visual messages, detailing ways in which our study differs. In the
next section, we analyze the struggle by elements of the print media
to contextualize Brownes photographs and through them, the news
coming out of South Vietnam. We focus on the time period from June
1963 until the November coup which successfully brought down the
Diem government in South Vietnam. We have examined coverage from
three newspapers (New York Times, San Diego Union, and the Christian
Science Monitor), a weekly news periodical (Time), two religious
periodicals (Christian Century, America), and four additional
magazines that covered political events (Life, Nation, National
Review, New Republic). We feel that taken collectively these sources
provide a diverse sample of the popular print media of the time. The
sample is varied enough to offer for examination a range of
message-types and political perspectives. Finally, we end with some
concluding observations about our efforts here.
VISUAL RHETORIC AND THE DRAMATIC NEWS PHOTOGRAPH
Lancioni (1996) has observed that critical analyses have examined
the rhetorical messages of a wide range of visual artifacts. This
research suggests that the rhetorical meaning for a visual artifact
is determined by the artifact's aesthetic form, and the active
cooperation of the audience in the construction of that rhetorical
meaning. Foss (1986) suggested that a viewer's response to a visual
object "assumes two forms or occurs in two steps -- the aesthetic
and the rhetorical . . . . the aesthetic precedes the rhetorical and
consists of a direct perceptual encounter with the sensory aspects
of the object The rhetorical response that follows constitutes the
processing of the aesthetic experience and thus the attribution of
meaning to the object." This rhetorical response "involves a
critical, reflective analysis of the work or a cognitive
apprehension of it" (p. 329). In the process of attributing
rhetorical meaning to a visual object the choice options available
to the audience will be circumscribed by the possibilities allowed
by the aesthetic attributes of the object But within those
prescribed parameters the audience will draw upon a "learned
vocabulary" based on "their own life experiences" (Lancioni 1996, p.
403), and the "[c]ultural knowledge [that] provides the basis for
normative interaction and persuasion" (Scott, 1994, p. 253).(1)
While these insights have proven beneficial in previous research, we
suggest that they are somewhat limiting in our case study.
The aesthetic impact of Browne's photographs was immediate and
undeniable. They "leaped off every front page in the world the next
morning" (Karnow, 1983, p. 281), riveting attention, as people
"reacted with shock and horror to this spectacular event" (Doyle &
Lipsman, 1981, p. 67). President Kennedy's reaction was undoubtedly
similar to that of many others, as he was heard to exclaim "Jesus
Christ," when the morning papers were delivered to him. As Levine
(1988) observed, it "is through trauma that the unstaged photograph
manipulates most effectively" (p. 17), and the evocative power of
such photographs is provided largely by the belief that they are
"the quintessential objective document -- reality in black and
white" (p. 23). "The camera record justifies," explained Sontag
(1977), it "passes for incontrovertible proof that a given thing
happened" (p. 5). The aesthetic form of Browne's photographic
"reality" or "proof" "fastened worldwide attention" on Southeast
Asia ("Condemn Religious Tyranny," 1963, p. 900), as its undeniable
force transfixed the attention of the American public on the
dramatic events portrayed.
However powerful were the aesthetic images, the role of the engaged
audience in the cooperative construction of their rhetorical meaning
was somewhat more difficult There was precious little in the way of
life experiences or cultural knowledge that an engaged American
audience could utilize in the Summer of 1963 to contextualize these
photos in a meaningful way. As Trachtenberg (1989) observed,
"without an encompassing structure, individual photographic images
remai[n] dangerously isolated and misleading. The structure endows
each image with what Foucault calls `enunciability,' the power to
make a meaningful statement" (p. 85).(2) Thus it fell to the
American print media to provide a context -- or encompassing
structure -- within which these dramatic, but alien, images would
take on rhetorical meaning.(3)
Olson (1983) examined how the discursive rhetoric of Franklin
Roosevelt "created a context" of meaning for Norman Rockwells "Four
Freedoms" paintings. This context reaffirmed the reasons America was
fighting World War Two (p. 24). However, Roosevelt constructed this
context without opposition. This was certainly not the case
concerning the powerful images coming out of Vietnam in the Summer
of 1963. A struggle ensued within the media concerning how to
contextualize and thus understand Browne's photographs -- and
through them, the unfolding political upheaval in South Vietnam. As
Smith (1986) observed, within the realm of foreign policy "where our
understandings . . . are so imperfect" (p. 325), such a struggle
"over images . . . is more than a distraction -- it is central. . .
. because it provides a way for Americans. . . to make sense of the
world around them" (p. 324). In retrospect, it might be argued that
the American understanding of Vietnam was always "imperfect." But it
was distinctly so during the Summer of 1963. We turn now to examine
how elements of the American print media struggled to contextualize
one of the first images that could provide Americans with a way to
make sense of Vietnam.
PHOTOGRAPHIC IMAGES OF SOUTH VIETNAM -- SUMMER, 1963
Some of the initial media reports described Browne's photographs of
Thich Quang Duc's self-immolation on a more aesthetic level. "An
elderly Buddhist monk surrounded by 300 other monks calmly put a
match to his gasoline-drenched yellow robes at a main street
intersection here today and burned to death before thousands of
watching Vietnamese" ("Monk Suicide by Fire," 1963, p. 6). This type
of description, however, was unable to explain the motives
underlying the act portrayed in these powerful images, and thus gave
little indication of what rhetorical meaning could be attached to
them. It was in the act of contextualizing Brownes photographs that
they took on rhetorical meaning. The frames offered by the print
media tended to bifurcate into two opposing perspectives: one
featuring a theme of religious oppression by Diem's government, the
other featuring a theme of a struggle for freedom against the
communists. The photographic image of Thich Quang Dues fiery
suicide, the antiDiem protests by the Buddhists, and the war itself,
would take on vastly different meanings depending upon the context
in which they were placed. We tam now to examine those media that
framed the events against a backdrop of religious oppression in
South Vietnam.
RELIGIOUS OPPRESSION IN SOUTH VIETNAM
For a great deal of media, Browne's images seemed "to symbolize what
was wrong with American involvement, if not in Vietnam, at least
with Ngo Dinh Diem" (Prochnau, 1995, p. 308). Coverage in the New
York Times, Christian Science Monitor, Christian Century, New
Republic, and Nation to varying degrees, seemed to feature the
religious persecution being carried out by the South Vietnamese
government Emphasis on the struggle between the oppressed Buddhist
majority and the oppressive Catholic-dominated regime of President
Ngo Dinh Diem concomitantly minimized any negative impact the
Buddhist demonstrations would have on the war against the
communists. The New York Times stated that this religious struggle
was "the most bitter and basic point of friction taking place in
Saigon" ("Saigon Concedes," 1963, p. 1). Christian Century claimed
that "the simple, widely publicized, incontestable fact is that the
conflict is one between a Roman Catholic and Buddhists" ("Vietnam
Crisis," 1963, p. 1093). Charges against the government included
discriminatory practices, violence against Buddhists, and inept
leadership by President Diem and his family-dominated government
Discrimination Against Buddhists. Setting the stage for the charges
of religious discrimination by the Diem regime was the common
referral in the media to the Buddhist majority in South Vietnam. The
New York Times, the Christian Science Monitor, and Christian Century
all featured that although the ruling Diems were Catholic, 70-80% of
the population of Vietnam was Buddhist For example, in virtually
every article by the New York Times, there is mention of the
Buddhist majority and ruling Catholic minority ("Diem Asks Peace,"
"Buddhist Defy Regime," and "U.S. Warns South Vietnam," 1963). The
Christian Century put the matter bluntly; "The fact is that a
predominantly Buddhist land is ruled by a strong Roman Catholic
family which permits and evidently encourages a ruthless suppression
of religious freedom" ("Brutality in Vietnam," 1963, p. 950). The
"domination" ("Saigon Incident," 1963, p. 2) and the "complete
control" ("Vietnam Crisis," 1963, p. 1093) by the Catholic Diem
regime over the Buddhist majority were common terms used to set the
tone for the charges of religious discrimination. Direct references
to the Buddhist majority, prejudice, and nepotic practices on the
part of the government were succinctly detailed in the New Republic;
the Buddhists' "crime had been that, in a country in which they
represent about 70 percent of the population, they had run afoul of
the particular prejudices of the chief of staff and of his relatives
and associates, who are Catholics" ("Diem's Other Crusade," 1063, p.
5).
This notion that something "isn't quite right" in Saigon resonated
in some factions of the American media. The message shaped by these
media that a powerful minority dominates and controls the majority
in South Vietnam would be a powerful and purposeful message to an
engaged American audience trying to understand American actions to
defend "freedom" in that country. As presented in the Summer of
1963, the Viet Cong were not the only enemies of freedom or
democratic ideals. Indeed, the Diem regime was portrayed as a
principle source of oppression for the majority in the vary country
he governed.
Mediated descriptions grounded the Buddhist uprising in an incident
which had occurred on May 8, 1963. To celebrate the 2057 birthday of
Buddha, the Buddhists of Hue flew the five-color flag of their
religion. Police and government troops moved in to enforce what
David Halberstam called on the front page of the New York Times, a
"seldom used law" ("Saigon Concedes," 1963, p. 1), banning the
public display of any flag other than the national flag of Vietnam.
During an ensuing clash, between nine and eleven Buddhists were
killed ("Mandarins of Hue," 1963, Sobel, 1973).(4)
Mediated descriptions portrayed the Hue incident as an attack on a
"crowd peacefully demonstrating for the right to fly Buddhist flags
on Buddha's birthday" ("Saigon Incident," 1963, p. 2). One source,
claiming that the Catholic flag was not subject to the same censure,
wrote that "they [the Buddhists] had compounded their `crime' by
flying the Buddhist flag . . . . The flying of the white-and-gold
Catholic flag, widely displayed at all major public events in
Vietnam, apparently is not subjected to the same interdiction"
("Diem's Other Crusade," 1963, p. 5). The Christian Science Monitor
highlighted the refusal of the Saigon government to take
responsibility for the incident at Hue; "Three simple words -- `I am
sorry' -- by President Ngo might have settled the problem if only
they had been uttered early enough" ("Saigon Incident," 1963, p. 2).
The incident in Hue provided one way for engaged Americans to begin
to understand the events captured in Browne's famous photographs,
but it was also only a part of the story of religious repression in
South Vietnam. As the New York Times described South Vietnamese
society:
Buddhists are prohibited from flying their flag; relief supplies
tend to go through Catholic hands; new universities at Hue and Dalat
are Catholic controlled. . . . Most high government officials,
chiefs of provinces and military officers are Catholics. The
official political ideology, enforced on everybody is derived from
Catholic philosophy. Restrictive social legislation, such as bans on
dancing, contraceptives, divorce and polygamy, runs counter to
customs and beliefs of the majority. ("Diem and the Buddhists,"
1963, p. 18)
The discrimination extended even into the government's campaign
against the communists. The New Republic reported that only
Catholics were given weapons with which to fight the Viet Cong:
"Even in mixed Catholic-Buddhist villages guns often go only to the
Catholics" ("South Vietnam," 1963, p. 9). Discrimination was
described as common in the military, as Buddhists were "bypassed for
promotions because they refused to change religion." Four "senior
Buddhist priests were sentenced to long prison terms without a
defense, accused of being members of a `communist' cell" ("Diem's
Other Crusade," 1963, p. 5).
Against this backdrop Browne's photographs became a symbol for
President Diem's assaults on fundamental tenants of religious
tolerance and freedom -- actions that would have violated basic
values of the engaged American audience. As described in the media
during this time period, the religious struggle in Southeast Asia
seemed to greatly overshadow -- and call into question -- the war
against the Viet Cong. Indeed, a group calling themselves the
Ministers Vietnam Committee placed an advertisement in the New York
Times featuring the Browne photograph, and protesting the "fiction
that this is `fighting for freedom"' (Congressional Research
Service, 1985, p. 144). In attaching rhetorical meaning to Browne's
images, the American public, and undoubtedly the American President,
himself a Catholic, was forced to grapple with the question of just
who constituted the real enemy of "freedom" in South Vietnam.(5)
Government Violence Against Buddhists. Government clashes with
Buddhist demonstrators became a staple of reporting from Vietnam
during the Summer of 1963. Some media sources described a situation
in which Diem's forces were intentional aggressors and the Buddhists
were innocent victims pushed to spectacular suicide as a last
resort. The Christian Century reported that "At least five Buddhists
have been driven to self-immolation" ("Rome and Saigon," 1963, p.
1067), and that "Catholics" were using their power to kill,
intimidate and imprison Buddhists who were calling for religious
freedom ("Vietnam Crisis," 1963, p. 1093).
Print media reports emphasized the intensity of the violence
perpetuated against the Buddhist demonstrators, and were shaped to
blame the Diem government for the protests themselves. This account
from Nation is illustrative: "growing Buddhist restiveness under
Diem's discriminatory measures has resulted in demonstrations, riots
and increasingly savage assaults on the Buddhists by the government
("Same Old Diem," 1963, p. 538). As explained it is the government's
discrimination that has caused the restiveness, the riots and the
"savage government violence.
The coverage also detailed the forms that violence took. Buddhists
were portrayed as martyrs -- persecuted for wanting only to practice
their religion in their own way through the "simple flying of their
religious flag. The New Republic reported that "Buddhist flags
defiantly flew from pagodas in which Buddhists were barricaded while
troops sought to starve them out by cutting off their food and water
supplies" ("Diem's Other Crusade," 1963, p. 5).
By the beginning of September, Buddhist demonstrations and
government retaliation had reached a crescendo level. An editorial
in the Christian Century offered a detailed account of government
violence against the Buddhists: "Scores have been killed, thousands
imprisoned. Martial law has been declared. Troops are rushing here
and there, arresting Buddhist demonstrators, assaulting or sealing
up places of worship, firing into assemblies of students, monks and
other citizens" ("Rome and Saigon," 1963, p. 1067). Descriptions
like these helped the engaged American audience to understand the
photo of the burning Buddhist monk by situating its powerful imagery
against a backdrop of violent religious oppression in the streets of
Saigon being carried out under government orders. The reality
described is one in which Buddhists are forcefully being kept from
practicing their religion by an authoritative government dominated
by Catholics, while the war against the communists -- ostensibly
being fought for freedom -- lies somewhere hauntingly in the
background.
Inept Government. During the Summer of 1963, the Diem government was
commonly portrayed as incompetent and without the support of the
South Vietnamese people. Showing Diem as an unsuccessful leader who
was incapable of uniting his people against the Communists, implied
that the Buddhists were guiltless in their struggle against him. The
New Republic stated bluntly that the "sheer idiocy of the Diem
regime astounds" ("Diem's Other Crusade," 1963, p. 5). Other media
worried that Diem's concern for preserving his family-dominated
government in the face of citizen unrest was taking precedence over
the war with the Viet Cong: "When the war to defeat the Communist
guerrilla infiltration at its most dangerous point takes second
place to the concerns of a family dictatorship, the time for a
change is at hand" ("Agony in South Vietnam," 1963, p. 18).
Described as ruling South Vietnam "like a feudal kingdom," ("Diem's
Other Crusade," 1963, p. 5), the Diem regime was reported to have
"forfeited the loyalty of the majority of its people and the
sympathy of the world" ("Rome and Saigon," 1963, p. 1067).
As constructed by the media, Diem's refusal to take responsibility
for the Hue incident was causing a rift between the government and
the Buddhists -- who were portrayed as the people of South Vietnam.
The New York Times reported that the government of Saigon was "still
failing" to admit any responsibility for the deaths in Hue
("Buddhists Defy Regime," 1963, p. 5). "The Government, blaming
communists for the deaths, prohibited further demonstrations and
alternately denounced and negotiated with the Buddhist leaders"
("U.S. Warns South Vietnam," 1963, p. 2). Diem had not yet "appealed
to the people for forgiveness" ("Saigon Incident" 1963, p. 2)
although such concessions were "certainly overdue ("Diem and the
Buddhists," 1963, p. 2).
Thus the picture of the burning Buddhist acquired meaning in relief
against a background of mediated accounts such as those found in the
Christian Science Monitor and the New York Times. These accounts
suggested strongly that the Buddhists -- as represented in the
picture -- were not responsible for events during the Summer of
1963. They were indeed, blameless, helpless scapegoats for the
brutal, nonrepresentative government in Saigon. President Diem and
his government became the focus of blame through narratives that
suggested that they had created the crisis through repression, and
insensitively failed to handle it successfully. Focusing the blame
on the Saigon government served to justify the Buddhist grievances.
From this perspective the suicide of Thich Quang Duc can be defined
as an understandable -- if obscene -- response. But there were other
elements of the American media that chose to define the burning monk
-- and thus the events in 1963 -- against a different backdrop; a
backdrop which suggested that the Buddhists were responsible for
diverting attention away from the real problem in South Vietnam, the
war against the Viet Cong.
THE VALUE OF ANTI-COMMUNISM
Another faction of the media offered a different portrayal of the
developing events in South Vietnam, and thus a different rhetorical
meaning for Browne's photographs. Instead of a struggle for
religious freedom Time, the San Diego Union, America, National
Review, and Life offered a more skeptical view of the Buddhists and
their demands. In it, Buddhists were described as unreasonable, as
having strong ties with communism or even being communists
themselves. The Saigon government was largely blameless and charges
of religious oppression were without foundation. This view
questioned the intent of the Buddhists and their effect on what was
portrayed as the real struggle in Vietnam the war for freedom
against the communists.
Buddhists Unreasonable. Buddhist claims of Catholic discrimination
were labeled as exaggerations by several news sources. Time magazine
suggested that the Buddhist demands included the "abolition of real
or fancied inequalities" and a "myriad of often ill-defined
grievances" ("The Queen Bee," 1963, p. 22). America quoted a New
Catholic News report from Saigon as saying that "the charges that
the government is pursuing an anti-Buddhist campaign are plain
exaggeration" ("New War in Vietnam," 1963, p. 849). The National
Review used subtitles such as "Bonzes Shift Blame" and "Preposterous
Proposals" to portray the Buddhists as extremists ("What's Really
Going On," 1963, pp. 388, 389) who were demanding unreasonable
concessions and taking part in outrageous displays of
self-destruction.
Described as "no more than a symbol" ("Tiger by the Tail," 1963, p.
207), the Buddhist flag issue was trivialized. The National Review
contextualized the Buddhist suicides during that summer with an
observation that "Surely a man does not immolate himself because the
government has forbidden his religion to fly its own flags on a Holy
Day" ("Road to Freedom," 1963, p. 177).
Such reports framed the Buddhist demands as unwarranted, while
simultaneously delegitimating other news perspectives concerning the
crisis. Buddhist complaints were made to appear carelessly construed
and poorly analyzed. In the face of a war against the communists in
South Vietnam, such reports communicated a strong message to the
American public concerning the legitimacy -- or lack thereof of
Buddhists claims of religious persecution.
Time magazine did offer readers one of the few explanations
concerning the nature of Buddhism -- including insights into the
concept of suffering and self-sacrifice. However, after a short
examination of the Four Noble Truths, Time discussed the
"uselessness" and delusions of the Buddhist religion. Calling the
Eightfold Path "full of pitfalls," the article explained that "in
many Western ways, Buddhism is socially useless. It has only a
limited tradition of good works, the chief duty of monks and nuns is
contemplation" ("Faith that Lights," 1963, p. 29). This description
portrayed the Buddhist religion as indistinct, unsophisticated, and
presumably without value to enlightened people.
Media coverage like this addressed not only the demands of the
Buddhists, but their religion. In so doing, it situated the suicide
of Thich Quang Duc -- and the protest movement it symbolized --
against a backdrop of a belief system judged to be "socially
useless" when assessed by Western criteria. As the foremost
practitioners of this belief, the monks would be cast as equally
useless, and their demands for social justice as petty and
unreasonable. Another perspective of this type of media coverage
suggested that the protests of the Buddhists had more to do with
politics than with religion, and that in pursuing their anti-Diem
agenda the Buddhists would endanger the real struggle for freedom
against the communists.
Political Nature of the Buddhist Demands. The interpretive frame
featuring concerns regarding religious tolerance and freedom was
countered in the media by one that featured the political nature of
the struggle between the Buddhists and the legitimate government in
Saigon. Time observed that the "Catholic angle can be greatly
exaggerated" ("The Queen Bee," 1963, p. 23); an opinion echoed in
the National Review: "Religion has been dragged in by the heels, to
belabor Diem, to blacken his reputation, and to inflame world
opinion" ("Road to Freedom," 1963, p. 177). Claiming that "the
religious issue... has been phony from the start" ("Tiger by the
Tail," 1963, p. 207), America began questioning the motivation
behind the Buddhists' grievances:
Sources admit in private that South Vietnam's agitating Buddhists
are not
concerned about religious freedom. They have hoped, by raising the
false
issue of religious discrimination, to enlist the sympathies of the
Vietnamese
and the world at large and eventually to topple the government of
Ngo
Dinh Diem. ("Saigon in Perspective," 1963, p. 126)
Although it was conceded that the Saigon government was dominated by
Catholics, there was no religious discrimination against the
Buddhists of South Vietnam. Catholics were simply treated "like
anyone else" ("Queen Bee," 1963, p. 22). America relied on an
American Government spokesman for added credibility concerning the
exoneration of Diem. "Frederick E. Nolting was essentially correct
in his nationwide T.V. interview of a few weeks ago. `Vietnam has
impressed me as a country of religious tolerance' the retiring U.S.
Ambassador insisted" ("Tiger by the Tail," 1963, P. 207).
Accused of selling the American public "a bill of goods" ("Reporting
from Saigon," 1963, p. 152), those who led the fight against the
government were made to seem like a small, solitary faction of
zealots, not representative of the Buddhist majority in South
Vietnam ("What's Really Going on in Vietnam," 1963). Such
perspectives set the scene for claims of Communist infiltration
among the ranks of Buddhist demonstrators.
In a National Review article, the Archbishop of Hue, Ngo Dinh Thuc
intimated connections between the communists and the Buddhists:
"What an organization to serve as a refuge for our friends the
Communists, protected from the police by the right of asylum given
to the pagodas" ("What's Really Going on in South Vietnam," 1963, p.
388). He went on to say that the "presence of Communists among the
bonzes is very probable since they have infiltrated even the Legion
of Mary."(6) Coverage in the San Diego Union similarly stated that
the Buddhist protests were benefitting the Viet Con& and then
employed some rather tortured wording to intimate a more direct
association between the Buddhists and the Communists:
Recent Buddhist demonstrations in Hue and Saigon may or may not have
been Communist-instigated, but the Communist Viet Cong are getting
the
main benefits. ("Split Helps Reds in South Viet Non," 1963, p. 5)
It would be incorrect to say that the present disturbances have been
instigated by the Communists, but there is no denying that the
Communists
are reaping tremendous propaganda value from them.... Some old hands
are
not convinced that the Communists have not entered the scene as
agitators.
This view is endorsed by the fact that Buddhists never before haw
resorted
to such extreme tactics in their demonstrations in other areas of
Asia.
(Neilan, 1963, p. 7)
Going beyond implying a simple link between the Buddhists and the
Viet Cong, commentary in Time suggested that the two were similar
forms of ideology. Claiming that Buddhism and communism have many
points in common, Time even depicted the Buddhists as being more
communist than the Communists: "They (the Buddhists] practice some
things that the Communists so far have merely talked about It may be
true that Buddha differs from Marx, but such differences can be
rationalized" ("The Queen Bee," 1963, P. 23).(7) In a different
article, Time informed readers that the Buddhists had also opposed
another "fight for freedom" in Asia. "During the Korean War, at
least some Buddhists were preaching that `to wipe out the American
imperialist demons is not only blameless, but meritorious'" ("The
Faith That Lights," 1963, p. 29).
Although never stating explicitly that the Buddhists were
communists, reports like these gave powerful implicit messages that
the communists were at least heavily involved in the protests. The
coverage suggested further that although the protests were initially
viewed as religious, they were actually political in nature. Indeed,
the Buddhist protesters themselves were a nonrepresentative minority
opposed to both the Saigon government and American "imperialist"
involvement in Asia.
Such coverage framed the Buddhist protests as a campaign that, if
not communist inspired, at least benefitted the communists in their
campaign to destroy freedom in South Vietnam. The "burning monk" --
cast in relief against this background of a political struggle
against communists -- would be viewed as an act of anti-American
political intimidation. There was only one war taking place, that
between the free South Vietnamese and the Viet Cong.
Virtuous Saigon Government. Coverage further depicted the government
of Ngo Dinh Diem as innocent of any discrimination or violence
against the Buddhists. Indeed, in some coverage the Saigon
government takes on the characteristics of both victim and hero.
Life described the president as a kind of police officer, struggling
to keep the peace among monks who threatened more suicides: "As Diem
sought to keep order -- even diverting army troops to help out --
two other monks volunteered to commit suicide -- one by fire and one
by disembowelment" ("Angry Buddhist Burns," 1963, p. 24). Thus, Diem
is portrayed as attempting to stabilize the chaotic situation; he is
the concerned official seeking to "keep order' and "help." Indeed he
is even diverting troops from the presumably more important struggle
against the Viet Cong. The Buddhists are, at best, passive
volunteers for gruesome sacrifices, and at worst, fanatics desperate
to continue their campaign of civil disobedience.
The theme that the Buddhists were responsible for diverting the
government from its rightful duty to battle the Communists was
repeated in this coverage. The San Diego Union reported that "The
government strategic hamlet program was beginning to build morale
and win over the population, which had been indifferent and hesitant
previously" ("Split Helps Reds," 1963, p. 5). Life related that the
United States "had put three billion dollars into the battle against
communism" ("Another Monk Gives," 1963, p. 30) and that the
Buddhists demonstrations "could mean disaster for Vietnam and for
the U.S. commitment there, just when the battle against the
Communists may be shifting in our favor' ("Angry Buddhist Burns,"
1963, p. 24).
Diem and his government were also blameless in the earlier Hue
demonstrations that precipitated the crisis. The government was
described as firing over the heads of the demonstrators, and in "the
melee" ("South Viet Nam," 1963, p. 35), "nine people were killed in
the confusion" ("Split Helps Reds," 1963, p. 5). This use of the
passive voice deflects blame away from the government troops, who
were portrayed as simply trying to restore order amidst the chaos.
Even the nine victims of the violence -- "killed in the confusion"
-- are never described as Buddhists. Indeed, in the National Review,
Archbishop Thuc maintains that most of the victims were Catholics or
government sympathizers. According to the Archbishop, among the Hue
dead were "two Catholic catechumens and four others, sons of
policemen or of public officials" ("What is Really Going On," 1963,
p. 388).
Archbishop Thuc further reframes the suicides by depicting them as
murder, accusing the Buddhists of forcing elderly monks to sacrifice
themselves:
In Hue we heard the screams of the bonze destined to be burned at
the
Tu-Dam pagoda, the center of the General Buddhist Association. The
bonze
refused to die and the other bonzes overwhelmed him with hammer
blows
-- this was the reason for the terrifying screams. ("What's Really
Going
On," 1963, p. 388)
As portrayed, the Buddhists were not religious martyrs, but
cold-blooded killers willing to murder their own people to advance a
political agenda. The Diem government therefore, could not be held
responsible for the images of fiery suicides. Indeed, this coverage
seems to reverse the roles of the Buddhists and the government
describing the protesters as oppressors and the Diem's government as
victim.
Thus, the effort to provide a frame of understanding for the images
coming out of Vietnam in 1963 became a dialectic when it was
enjoined by elements of the media that sought to keep the engaged
American public focused on the real struggle in Vietnam; the war
against the communists. Their rhetoric employed news source
objectivity, `statements by credible officials, and recognition of
the pronounced political nature of the Buddhists' actions to
downplay concerns regarding Buddhist claims of persecution by the
Diem government. The clear message was that religious discrimination
against the Buddhists was not taking place in South Vietnam, and
that the self-immolation that had caught the attention of the world
had been misinterpreted by people who did not have an accurate
understanding of events in Southeast Asia.
CONCLUSIONS AND IMPLICATIONS
We suggest that our case study can extend and refine our knowledge
concerning the rhetorical structuring of visual images. The power of
Browne's photographs of Thich Quang Duc's self-immolation seared
into the consciousness of the engaged audience, making them more
cognizant of Southeast Asia. In so doing, they became what Olson
(1987) has termed "speaking pictures," representing South Vietnam to
an engaged audience. However, the aesthetic power of these riveting
but surreal images from a mysterious place, was due, in part because
the act they captured was so unfamiliar to the Americans who
participated vicariously in it' Thus, unlike other studies
concerning the rhetoric of visual images, the background knowledge
and "points of view" of the American audience were insufficient to
contextualize these images and instill them with rhetorical meaning.
It fell to the more discursive forms of rhetoric found in print
media to establish a frame from which the audience could
rhetorically interpret the photographs.
Olson (1983) has observed that the appeal of Rockwell's "Four
Freedoms" posters was broadened through the use of "productive
ambiguities." The paintings contained images that were familiar
enough so that Americans could identify with them, but ambiguous
enough to "promote varied identifications" (p. 16). During World War
Two the rhetorical appeal of these paintings was intensified by
explanatory texts in the Saturday Evening Post and a government
campaign to "educate Americans on behalf of participation in [the
war]" (p. 15). With the Browne photographs, however, the ability of
the audience to be "actively engaged with the visual text"
(Lancioni, 1996, p. 399) was severely limited. Thus, in this case
the ambiguity of the images became a battleground in a dialectical
struggle to provide the correct "frame" from which to interpret and
react to the undeniable power of the visuals.
This dialectic offered two competing frames from which to interpret
the compelling images of the burning monk. The first situated them
against a backdrop of religious oppression and tyranny in South
Vietnam. In so doing, it raised major questions about the nature of
American involvement in that country. The second marginalized
concerns about religious oppression and featured the war against the
communists as the only real struggle in that area of the world.
While acknowledging the difficulty in determining who "won" this
struggle, we are confident in the following observations. It seems
that the element of the media that was supportive of President Diem
was never really able to counter the perception that there was
severe religious oppression in South Vietnam. This impression was
undoubtedly bolstered by President Diem's sister-in-law, Madame Nhu,
who had an "unfailing instinct for the wrong word at the wrong
time." Her references to the Buddhist suicides as "barbecues,"
helped perpetuate "an intolerable image of the Diem regime, ...
never to be expunged" (Hammer, 1987, p. 145).
We would maintain, however, that another part of the explanation can
be found in Browne's images themselves. As Foss (1985) stated, to be
valid, rhetorical meaning attributed to a visual artifact "must be
grounded in the material characteristics of the work" (p. 330). We
suggest that the validity of some of the pro-Diem frames offered by
the media was problematic because they simply could not be grounded
in photographs themselves. Browne's pictures show a man sitting
calmly and serenely as he is engulfed by the angry flames. These
were clearly not images of someone who was forced to fiery suicide
against his will by bloodthirsty comrades. It would also be
difficult to view these photographs and simultaneously accept the
argument that the demands of the Buddhists were exaggerated. An act
like the one depicted is not one to be undertaken lightly.
Levine (1988) observed that photographic images, "like statistics do
not he, but like statistics the truths they communicate are elusive
and incomplete" (p. 17). Previous research has focused mainly on
those types of visual images in which the engaged audience could
draw upon its collective background to facilitate its role in
cooperatively ascertaining rhetorical meaning for a visual artifact.
Our study suggests that when the knowledge of the audience is
insufficient this process becomes more problematic. In such cases it
falls to more discursive forms of rhetoric to contextualize the
visual artifact in such a way that the audience can be guided toward
an understanding of its rhetorical meaning. The print media served
that function in 1963 with regard to the burning monk photograph and
what it meant concerning American involvement in South Vietnam.
As elements of the media engaged in a dialectic to provide the
truths of Browne's photographs, they offered interpretations that
Levine says are common in the struggle to gain a historical
understanding from photographs; "the notion that things must be one
way or the other" (p. 22). It is probably the case that the "truth"
behind these haunting images lay somewhere between the two
polarities offered by the media in 1963. The Catholic dominated
government of South Vietnam was undoubtedly brutally repressive
toward the Buddhists. But as Hammer (1987) pointed out,
"objectively, no single act of the Saigon government seemed to have
justified the sacrifice of Thich Quang Duc" (p. 145). Others have
maintained that in hindsight it is clear that the Viet Cong were
helped immeasurably by the anti-Diem campaign of the Buddhists, and
the coup which removed Diem in November 1963 (Ball, 1990; Nolting,
1988).
As stated previously, in the domain of foreign policy, the struggle
over images "is more than a distraction -- it is central" (Smith,
1986. p. 324). Visual and dramatic images -- especially those for
which the engaged audience possesses a limited ability to calculate
rhetorical meaning -- may serve as the catalyst for a struggle over
interpretation. That this struggle takes place within the discursive
context of the media seems a logical outcome of journalistic
inquiry. One such struggle concerning foreign policy in Vietnam
occurred in 1963. It would not be the last.
NOTES
(1) Several studies have commented on the active role of the
audience in cooperatively establishing the meaning for a visual
message. Benson observed that a visual text "positions the spectator
as an active participant in the making of meanings" (p. 197). Foss
(1986) maintains that there is a "predominant role [for] the
audience in the establishment of the meaning of a work of art" (p.
330), and this position has been echoed by Lancioni (1996),
Trachtenberg (1989), and Scott (1994). Olson has examined the active
role of the audience in the attribution of rhetorical meaning to the
pre-Revolutionary drawing of Benjamin Franklin (1967), a
post-Revolutionary medal designed by Franklin (1990), and the "Four
Freedoms" paintings by Norman Rockwell (1983).
(2) Sontag (1977) concurs with this need for an accompanying
structure for photographs. "A photograph that brings news of some
unsuspected zone of misery cannot make a dent in public opinion
unless there is an appropriate context of feeling and attitude (p.
17).
(3) We would suggest that even the concept of artist intentionality
would be troublesome. Others have maintained that the intention of
the creator of a visual artifact can provide the audience with clues
concerning its rhetorical meaning (Foss 1986). We recognize that
Quang Duc's act of self-immolation was obviously an intentional,
purposive, confrontational act (although as will be explained, even
that was called into question in some quarters of the media),
however it is somewhat more problematic to assign any intentionality
to Browne, the creator of the unstaged photograph. While the power
of the images is undeniable, their meaning -- and thus their ability
to "influence people to feel, believe, or act in desired ways" --
had to be discursively provided to an engaged American audience.
(4) Saigon's representative in Hue was President Diem's brother, Ngo
Dinh Can, "an authoritarian Catholic hated by Buddhists [and]
human-rights activists" (Browne, 1993, p. 6).
(5) According to Sorensen (1965); "The religious persecutions deeply
offended John Kennedy," who denounced the human rights violations in
South Vietnam in a speech to the United Nations in September, 1963
(p. 657).
(6) Although it was well known in Vietnam that Archbishop Ngo Dinh
Thuc was President Diem's brother, this is never mentioned in the
National Review article.
(7) The New York Times reported that the "Buddhists are extremely
sensitive to the charge that they are being exploited by the
Communists. This has been one of the sorest points in the context
that has lasted almost six weeks" ("Rift with Buddhists," 1963, p.
8).
(8) Hulteng (1976) observed that "Pictures engage the emotions of
the viewer, draw[ing] him[/her] into the news situation being
depicted, and let him[/her] share in a vicarious but vivid sense the
excitement, the tragedy, or the exultation being experienced by the
persons caught up in the news" (p. 159).
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Jill E. Rudd (Ph.D., Kent State University, 1991) is Associate
Professor, Michael J. Beatty (Ph.D., Ohio State University, 1976) is
Professor, and Sally Vogl-Bauer (Ph.D., University of Kentucky,
1994) is Assistant Professor in the Department of Communication
Arts, University of Wisconsin, Whitewater. Jean A. Dobos (Ph.D.,
Ohio State University, 1986) is Associate Professor in the School of
Communication Studies, Kent State University. An earlier version of
this paper was presented at the 1996 meeting of the Speech
Communication Association, San Diego, CA.