As part of their season on war photography (which also includes the excellent Gerta Taro and Robert Capa exhibitions), the Barbican recently held a talk on Images of War. The focus was on the role of  the war photographer within embedded journalism, with talks from artists Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin.

The media has probably always propagandised war in some way, since it’s the definition of a divisive issue. Colluding with the armed forces goes back at least as far as the Spanish-American war (1898), which William Randolph Hearst (then editor of the New York Morning Journal) is credited with shooing America into (allegedly telling one photographer “You furnish the pictures and I'll furnish the war").

Embedded journalism – the contractual attachment of reporters to military units – is a new and dangerous step however, which has been in practice since the invasion of Iraq in 2003. Tempting for the journalist as it provides them with greater protection than a PRESS t-shirt, and for their editor as it allows more intimate access to crucial frontline action. However, the agreement also grants the military a heavy degree of editorial control, significantly bolstering their muscle in the crucial field of information warfare.

Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin are not war photographers in the common sense - they take photos of the periphery and aftermath of conflict. Thus they avoid the embedded or independent question completely.

Their latest project, The Day Nobody Died, is a film which follows a box of unexposed photographic paper from London to the Helmand frontline, Afghanistan, over 22 minutes (you can watch it here). And I don't mean 'followed' in the sense that it's a general narrative knot around which the story unfolds... They follow a cardboard box, and that's it; into a car, off a conveyor belt, into a truck. It's completely mundane.

This is apparently the point however - to provide a counterpoint to the polished and carefully evocative shots that are the mainstay of war imagery. As Adam argues, "We don't want to make war entertaining". The title of the piece is in relation to the fact that the project took place during the heaviest week of casualties, on the only day that no one died (coincidentally).

Reflecting this calm, the box performs no specific function but to occupy the attention the soldiers in the same way an embedded photographer might - only without providing the malleable coverage that a journalist would. When they reached the end of their journey, Adam and Oliver simply opened the box, exposing the film for 20 seconds, producing abstract colours and no meaningful images of war.  This is the "inverse of traditional reportage", they claim.

But, of course, if they are seeking to absolve themselves of subjectivity and authorial intent, they fail in narrating the project. They can only fulfil their aim without explaining themselves, but can only make the footage interesting by doing so. Bit of a problem. Maybe this illustrates the audience's complicity in the necessary generation of 'a story' to go with simple images? The readership craves drama, so the photographer documents it, and the papers and military present it in digestible form.

There is hope, however, as the increasing restrictions of the press coincide with a massive rise in the documentation of news events by members of the public. The falling costs of digital compact cameras, and the ability to record basic images and video footage on mobile phones has given recording access to previously silent voices. Simultaneously, and more importantly, increased internet availability has simplified the publication process and democratised the viewership.

To see more of Oliver and Adam's work, visit them at www.choppedliver.info