Introduction
First published in German in 1983, Vilém Flusser’s Towards a Philosophy of Photography lays the groundwork for not only a philosophy of photography but also “a criticism of functionalism in all its anthropological, scientific, political, and aesthetic aspects” (Flusser 2000:78). In other words, it’s a groundbreaking exploration of the space for human freedom in the highly programmed and robotized information society.
Flusser constructs his arguments upon four basic concepts—image, apparatus, program and information—proposing a framework that redefines how we see, think, and exist. Although Flusser himself doesn’t directly use the term “the viewer”, this essay examines the viewer’s role within his philosophy of photography, analyzing their position in relation to apparatuses and within the “photographic universe.” By tracing the transition from the passive “receiver” to the engaged “photographer”, this essay argues that Flusser envisions a pathway for resistance and agency within the constraints of the complex of apparatuses, which every viewer could set off.
The Image and the Technical Image
Flusser defines images as “significant surfaces” that “signify something ‘out there’ in space and time” by abstracting phenomena into two-dimensional symbols. To fully grasp the significance of images, the viewer must actively engage in what Flusser calls “scanning.” This act involves the viewer’s gaze traversing the surface of the image, shaped simultaneously by the image’s structure and the viewer’s intentions. Through scanning, the viewer generates temporal and meaningful relationships between elements of the image.
In this process, the time reconstructed is “an eternal recurrence of the same process,” where the gaze can return to previously viewed elements repeatedly. The space reconstructed is “the space of mutual significance,” a network of interconnected meanings emerging from the interplay of the image’s elements. Flusser describes this space and time peculiar to the image “the world of magic, a world in which everything is repeated and in which everything participates in a significant context” (Flusser 2000:9).
In Introductory Note, Flusser marks “the invention of linear writing” and “the invention of technical images” as two pivotal turning points in human culture (Flusser 2000:7). The invention of linear writing tears the elements of image from its surface and arrange them into lines, starting the struggle of historical consciousness (writing) against magic consciousness (the image). However, the technical image is created by apparatuses, which are themselves products of scientific texts. In this context, Flusser distinguishes between traditional images and technical images, establishing the conceptual foundation for the revolutionary potential inherent in the latter.
Technical images are no longer directly created by human hands but are instead generated through the programming of apparatuses, which encode symbolic representations of the world. The seemingly non-symbolic, objective nature of these images can mislead viewers into perceiving them as transparent windows through which they can directly view the world. However, Flusser stresses that although technical images may appear to objectively reflect the world, they are, in fact, highly artificial. They are metacodes of scientific texts—signifying texts—rather than direct imprints of reality.
The Apparatus and the Photograph
The domination of apparatus marks a revolutionary shift in several ways. First, unlike empirical tools or technical machines designed to modify the natural world through labor, apparatuses aim to transform the meaning of the world by generating and manipulating information. Therefore, the category “work,” which defined industrial society, is supplanted by the category of “information,” which Flusser believes to be the centered category of post-industrial society.
Second, just as the invention of machines reversed human’s relationship to tools, apparatuses introduce a novel dynamic: humans serve as the functionaries of apparatuses. In this role, humans are neither the constant nor the variable but merge into a unity with apparatuses. This intricate relationship warrants deeper exploration, which I will address later in this essay.
Third, the world of apparatuses is a world of symbols. Apparatuses are programmed in symbols and its functioning means playing with and combining symbols prescribed to them. Since every program is programmed by a metaprogram, the real concern isn’t who owns the apparatuses but who develops the program. This marks a significant shift in power from ownership of tangible objects (hardware) to the control of symbolic systems (software). Flusser identifies this transition as emblematic of the apparatus’s growing dominance in the post-industrial society.
Photographs, as a specific form of technical images, are created and distributed by apparatuses. Unlike traditional images, photographs (technical images) do not directly represent the world; instead, they signify transcoded theoretical concepts embedded within the programs of the apparatus. According to Flusser, decoding a photograph involves understanding the interplay between the photographer’s intentions and the camera’s program. Photographers aim to convey information by encoding their concepts into photographs, while the camera, like all apparatuses, seeks to realize its capabilities and use society as a feedback mechanism for its progressive improvement. Effective photographic criticism must unravel the co-operation and conflict between these two intentions, thereby enabling a photograph to be truly decoded.
Photographs exemplify the shift in value within post-industrial society, where value is no longer rooted in material objects but instead in the information loosely embedded on the surface of photographs. Unlike ancient images, which had to be physically transferred from one owner to another, photographs are distributed through apparatuses programmed to classify and disseminate them into three primary categories: indicative (scientific and documentary), imperative (political or commercial), and optative (artistic). While photographs can theoretically move between categories, the channels encode specific meanings onto them, reflecting an ongoing tension between the photographer’s intentions and the program of the distribution apparatuses.
This introduces another layer of decoding. Photographers attempt to use channels to reach a broader audience while smuggling aesthetic, political or epistemological information into their photographs. However, the distribution apparatuses co-opt the smuggled information to enrich its program and conspire with other apparatuses to further program the society. When photography criticism fails to expose this underlying conflict, critics not only fail to properly decode the photographs, but align themselves with the apparatuses, undermining both the photographers’ efforts and society at large.
In Flusser's analysis, photographs dominate texts in post-industrial society, reducing texts to the role of merely confirming and validating photographic images. This photographic dominance generates a new form of illiteracy where people depend on photographs to comprehend the world, while their critical awareness is suppressed, ultimately leading them to react in a ritual fashion programmed by the apparatuses. The apparatuses leverage the inherent magic of photographs to transform the society into programmed functionaries, enclosing us within a magic circle generated by the endless flow of photographs—the photographic universe.
“The Viewer” in the Photographic Universe
Flusser repeatedly highlights the essential distinction between “redundant” and “informative” photographs. Redundant photographs, being mere repetitions of possibilities already realized within the camera’s program, add nothing new and lack meaningful information. In contrast, the creation of informative photographs is the true mission of photographers—an endeavor to uncover unexplored possibilities within the camera’s program, thereby enriching the photographic universe with novel and improbable images.
Flusser identifies two defining characteristics of the photographic universe. First, its ever-changing gaudiness functions as the elements of programs, automatically triggering human actions. Second, its quantum-like structure, derived from the apparatus’s (camera’s) precise simulation of the Cartesian model of thought, ensures that every element (concept) within the apparatus’s program corresponds directly to an element (photograph) of the universe, accomplishing a grainy system.
The second characteristic creates an absurd omniscience and an absurd omnipotence that “cameras know everything and are able to do everything in a universe that was programmed in advance for this knowledge and ability” (Flusser 2000:68). This uncovers the underlying mechanism of the apparatus’s program: a combination game governed by chance, operating entirely automatically and progressively eliminating the need for future human involvement. In this framework, human intentions become irrelevant, reducing human existence to a robotic state while society is programmed to serve as a feedback mechanism, perpetuating and enhancing the apparatus’s program.
As inhabitants of the photographic universe, people have grown accustomed to the endless stream of redundant photographs, living in a world where every experience, piece of knowledge, and value is reduced to punctuated photographs, and every action becomes a ritual response prompted by the apparatuses behind those photographs. Yet, in the world dominated by the automaticity and functionality of apparatuses, Flusser still provides a way out—a philosophy of photography that seeks to expose the ongoing struggle between the apparatuses’ control and human’s effort to carve out a space for agency and autonomy.
From “the Viewer” to “the Photographer”
Amid the relentless flux of redundant photographs perpetually replacing one another in the photographic universe, Flusser identifies a potential breakthrough: photographers who consciously play against the program, producing informative photographs that emerge from this deliberate act of resistance.
The relationship between the camera and the photographer is fundamentally dialectical, characterized by the tension between the camera’s programmed control and the photographer’s creative agency. As an apparatus, the camera imposes constraints on the photographer’s choices, defining the possibilities of combination through its inherent programming. Simultaneously, the photographer engages with the camera using intention, creativity, and critical awareness, striving to assert their agency and freedom within the limitations set by the apparatus. This dynamic interplay results in an ongoing negotiation of power, collaboration, and resistance.
The camera functions as a “black box,” a programmed apparatus that defines a fixed set of possibilities for photographic creation. As part of an interconnected network of apparatuses governed by cybernetic principles, the output of one apparatus becomes the input for another. The camera’s program and functionality are dictated by the logic of the apparatus and its overarching metaprogram, which are in turn linked to larger systems such as the photographic industry, the industrial complex, and the socio-economic framework. Together, these interconnected programs create an expansive—yet ultimately finite—pool of possibilities. This structure generates the illusion that photographers act with complete freedom and that their cameras simply follow their intentions, masking the underlying constraints of the apparatus. In Flusser’s word: “in the act of photography the camera does the will of the photographer but the photographer has to will what the camera can do” (Flusser 2000:35).
Flusser does not dismiss the possibility of photographers discovering new possibilities when working with the camera, an apparatus. To achieve this, photographers must transcend the camera’s program, introducing elements into their photographs that lie outside its predetermined framework, thereby generating truly unpredictable and novel information and genuinely “making use of camera”. Moreover, Flusser argues that the realization of these potentials requires more than the photographer’s effort to play against camera; it demands a philosophy of photography. Such a philosophy elevates photographic practice above the automation and robotization imposed by apparatuses, bringing it to the level of critical consciousness and intentionality.
Ultimately, the dialectical relationship between the camera and the photographer reflects Flusser’s broader critique of post-industrial society: a struggle between the deterministic logic of apparatuses and human’s enduring desire for freedom, creativity, and expression within increasingly programmed systems.
Discussion
More than 40 years after the publication of Vilém Flusser’s Towards a Philosophy of Photography, his insights and predictions remain strikingly relevant. Cameras have become increasingly automated, making it effortless to capture images. As a result, the belief that “photographs are an automatic reflection of the world” (Flusser 2000:59) persists. This photographic illiteracy has only grown more widespread with the advent of smartphones, which have amplified the photographic universe by enabling nearly everyone to take snapshots without reflection or critical thought. Adding to this complexity is the invention of artificial intelligence, which further constrains the photographer by introducing new layers of automation and programmatic control, shaping both the creation and perception of images.
From another perspective, the growing prevalence of the “apparatus/human” complex presents a remarkable opportunity to transcend the program of apparatuses. With cameras now accessible to nearly everyone, anyone can move beyond the programmed passivity of being mere viewers and assume the role of “the photographer” (in Flusser’s sense), becoming a potential breakthrough within the overwhelming and blinding photographic universe. Together with a philosophy of photography, this movement from “the viewer” to “the photographer” could “reflect upon the way in which, … it is possible for human beings to give significance to their lives in face of the chance necessity of death” (Flusser 2000:82).
Bibliography
Flusser, Vilém. 2000. Towards a Philosophy of Photography. London: Reaktion Books.