
“Saigon. 1968” by Fred Klonsky, FredKlonsky.com.
This striking drawing by Fred Klonsky reimagines one of the iconic photos from the Vietnam War, which we’ve seen in newspapers and on TV many times in this 50th year after it was taken. The photo, “Saigon Execution,” has been called an image “that changed the course of the war.” Well, maybe it isn’t, but it did help shape America’s collective memory of the war.
I thought I knew Eddie Adams’s Pulitzer Prize-winning photo of the “execution” — its story and its meaning (see the photo here). But when Klonsky’s art sent me to refresh my memory, I found a history of the kind of mythmaking that mirrors our shifting, politicized cultural memory of the war itself. I also found the photo to be an intriguing example of how iconic images have been lifted out of history to gain and shift their meaning, and a good teaching example for seeing how we look at photos through ideological lenses.
The photo shows Nguyen Ngoc Loan, chief of South Vietnam’s security services, shooting a Vietcong prisoner point blank during the 1968 Tet Offensive. The photo stood out from the countless images of war we had seen up to then — it showed not the wounded and dead bodies, but the moment of killing and dying itself. That was the “news value” of the photo, which led the Associated Press to rush it to the news media. But what made the photo more unusual, what gave it a meaning beyond its otherwise abstract image of violence, was its context.
The photo’s subversive, moral ambiguity
It also was unusual because, in context, it had a subversive, moral ambiguity — the shot was fired not by an anonymous soldier, but by one of the high officials of the government American soldiers were dying for, and posed the question: Was this murder? So the photo seemed to stand for something more than the action captured in the frame, and something more than was conveyed by a simple, one-sentence caption.
To understand the importance of the photo, we have to understand the impact of the Tet Offensive. It was a shock to see guerrillas breaching the U.S. Embassy compound and attacking cities and U.S. and South Vietnamese military bases throughout the country. Americans had been told the U.S. was winning the war and the photo seemed to catch the president and the generals in a big and terrible lie.

Americans were shocked to see guerrillas breach the U.S. Embassy compound. Here a prisoner captured in the attack. Photo: Don Hirst, Army photographer.
There had been no photos like this in the “censored wars” of the past, World War II and Korea. In this war, though editors still imposed their filters, photographers and journalists could move independently in the country. Crucially, a surging antiwar movement, coming after the rise of the Black freedom movement, had begun to delegitimize the cold-war framing that had been able to hide, explain away and cover up atrocities in the Korean War. But in February 1968, the mass movements and a growing division in the elites created an opposition ready to extract the subversive meaning out of this morally ambiguous image.
There was also video footage of the killing the next day on NBC news, but it was the photo that became an “indelible image of war,” one of a few powerful images people would always associate with the Vietnam War. The photo was soon on posters in antiwar protests. General Westmoreland, commander of U.S. forces in Vietnam, later wrote, “The photograph and the film shocked the world.” In the words of NBC’s Saigon bureau chief, it “showed the horror and insanity of the war.” Robert Kennedy, a month later and before he officially declared his candidacy in the presidential primaries, said: “The photograph of the execution was on front pages all around the world — leading our best and oldest friends to ask, more in sorrow than in anger, what has happened to America?”
Viewers saw not only the shocking moment of death, but also the general’s casual performance, untroubled by the presence of news cameras. He raised his arm to shoot as soon as the prisoner was brought before him, seemingly without a moment of reflection, signaling routine inhumanity and impunity. The photo came to serve not only as an indictment of the corrupt and brutal South Vietnamese government. It seems to ask not only, are these the people we are dying for? But also, Is this us?
A powerful antiwar image … or is it?
Eddie Adams didn’t think so, and he didn’t like the use made of his photo by antiwar protesters. He was the AP photographer who took the picture. When it was first broadcast, along with even more shocking film footage the next day, NBC’s John Chancellor called it “rough justice on a Saigon street.” Adams for sure, Chancellor maybe, took the point of view of the killer and not the victim. (more…)
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