The “Useless” Idiot & “Useless” Photography

People often cite such classic cases—Lewis W. Hine did it. His series of photographs of child labor in the United States made a statement about this atrocity. The public’s indignation from viewing and attention was eventually transformed into questioning and, thus, social change. This type of discourse is commonplace in discussions of documentary image-making. However, the pragmatist would believe that photography may not play any significant role in this and that beneath the surface level of shooting-viewing-questioning is the inevitability of social development. Such questioning is naturally tenable if one analyzes the enactment of the Child Labor Act on an economic and social level:

1. At the beginning of the twentieth century, the United States experienced rapid industrialization and a shift in the mode of production from labor- to capital-intensive. The spread of mechanization significantly increased production efficiency, and the necessity for cheap child labor gradually disappeared. Businesses began to favor hiring skilled adult workers to operate complex machinery and equipment.

2. The abundance of public education resources also saved children from being sent to work because they had “nothing to do.” As the school system improved, society became more aware of the importance of basic education for children. The states began to enforce compulsory education laws that required school-age children to be educated, limiting their time and possibilities for participation in the labor force. This also came from the need for a highly qualified labor force for the future due to capitalist development. Upgrading the public also brought child labor into the public consciousness for the first time as a social problem.

3. 1938—nearly twenty years after the publication of Hine’s work—Franklin D. Roosevelt introduced one of the most critical pieces of the New Deal, the Fair Labor Standards Act (FLSA). This leads us to suspect that the depression that lasted throughout the 20’s (1929–1939) was the real force behind this act. When high unemployment became a serious problem and adult labor became cheap and plentiful, the government and the community began advocating for child labor restrictions. Essentially, there may have been a need to free up more jobs for the adult labor force.

Admittedly, one can never say that Hine’s work is useless outside the artistic value system. In 1916, Senator Robert Owen and Representative Edward Keating saw Hine’s catalogs and thoughtfully discussed enacting and enforcing a bill to protect children’s rights. After some thought and discussion, they proposed a bill to enact and implement a law to protect the rights of children. The bill was adopted by the House of Representatives and passed, and then U.S. President at the time, Thomas Woodrow Wilson, signed what became known as the “Keating-Owen Act.” Congress passed the first national child labor protection bill with the same name. Regardless, the Federal Supreme Court overturned the Act in a lawsuit filed by Hammer in 1918 on the grounds that the federal government had overstepped its authority. Hine’s work, while it did make its way into the political agenda, did not bring about immediate structural change. Society had not yet evolved to a stage where it could accommodate this change. And when the society’s economic situation changed, the change was practiced.

The “hubris” of the photographers was a source of their power, and the products of that source often struggle to find sufficiently self-evident words in our political tapestry. The creation under Roosevelt of the Farm Security Administration (FSA) visual documentation project, Hine’s continued focus on child labor, and Dorothea Lange’s “Migrant Mothers” and so on naturally provided graphic references for the New Deal, paving the way for political reform. Nevertheless, the medium’s handling of visual representation, no matter how complex the issues or promising directions its inherent mystique may reveal to the viewer, pales in comparison to the criteria for real reform. Photography sets the table for reformation, but it is unable to serve any main course, and its function as art may stop there.

People imagine the power of photography more as a reflexive compensation for their inability to alter reality. The value of photography as a “preparation” may not lie in the “delusion” of making a difference—no, there is nothing wrong with such a virtuous delusion—but rather in being a decisive factor in structural change. Perhaps the image, as a structure that cannot be pried apart, still retains a trace of stubbornness that proves its “presence.” It shouldn’t be presumptuous in its powerlessness because it maintains its dissent and refusal to forget or avert its gaze.