This project explores the quiet resilience of the Laotian people in the long, unspoken aftermath of a war the world barely remembers. Between 1961 and 1975, Laos became the stage for one of the most devastating covert military campaigns in modern history. Known as the “Secret War,” this CIA-led operation was designed to disrupt the Pathet Lao communist movement and cut off supply routes along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Rather than deploying American soldiers, the CIA recruited and organised tens of thousands of local Laotian fighters—many of them Hmong tribesmen—as proxy forces. These men were trained, armed, and paid to combat the communist Pathet Lao and North Vietnamese forces. What followed was catastrophic: over 2.1 million tons of ordnance were dropped on Laos, more than the total the U.S. released during the entirety of World War II. Civilians were frequently caught in the crossfire, and when the bombing finally ceased, it left behind a haunting legacy—an estimated 78 million unexploded bombs scattered across the land.

Today, nearly half of Laos remains contaminated by unexploded ordnance known as UXO. In a country where over a third of the land is still dangerous to walk on, everyday life carries the weight of memory, loss, and extraordinary endurance. Hundreds are still killed or maimed each year, often while farming, walking, or playing. The ongoing struggle with unexploded ordnance (UXO) is not only a physical challenge but a unifying element—shaping a collective memory and a growing sense of responsibility to address the enduring consequences of war. 

I travelled through Laos in 2014 — through Kong Lo, Muang Ngoi, the Phonsavan plateau, and the cave city of Vieng Xay, where thousands sheltered from the bombing for nine years. These are not photographs of tragedy. They are photographs of people living carefully and with extraordinary dignity in a landscape that remains dangerous. The silence in these images is not emptiness. It is the particular quiet of a place still listening for what might come next.