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- THE CULTURAL INTERWEAVING OF CHINA AND THE BALKANS: A TEXTUAL ANALYSIS OF ARTISTIC EXCHANGES UNDER THE BRI | WCSCD
< Back THE CULTURAL INTERWEAVING OF CHINA AND THE BALKANS: A TEXTUAL ANALYSIS OF ARTISTIC EXCHANGES UNDER THE BRI 3 Nov 2021 Marija Glavaš This text is the second in a series of close studies examining the cultural exchanges between China and the Balkan region under the BRI, taking art [events and exchanges] as its main focal point. In the first text , I focused on the ambitions and challenges of artistic exchanges in general, using contemporary Slovenia as an example of bad praxis. In this text, I will focus on Chinese art and provide a textual analysis of some artifacts and archives from the events and exhibitions previously mapped in my first contribution. As an anthropology student, I however lack the proper knowledge and tools to read these images adequately. Thus, I held an open-ended interview with colleagues Xu Tiantian and Ke Qiwen from Rockbund Art Museum and Nikita Yingqian Cai from Times Museum. Both of these museums are committed to presenting and researching contemporary art and they are partners of the As you go… inquiry. They have deep insight into the contemporary art context of China that I am learning about. Together we have read some of the images and they kindly shared their personal thoughts on these projects with me. I must note that these museums did not participate in any such projects under the BRI – most of the analyzed exchanges were happening through public Chinese institutions. As stated in the introductory text my main question was whether these exchanges live up to their potential of shifting away from classical national narratives and providing a common ground for different cultural identities. Before we dwell on the individual artifacts, events, and exchanges it is important to understand the context in which they are taking place. The BRI is mostly known for Chinese infrastructure investments in Asia, Africa, and (Central and Eastern) Europe. It is an initiative that is striving for both economic growth and economic connectivity amongst participating countries. These activities are usually in the spotlight raising both praise and condemnation. However, these investments are not the only activities under the BRI. Another important aspect of it are the artistic and cultural exchanges which are rarely discussed, praised or criticized. This may appear trivial at first as most people simply consider art as a form of entertainment and not much more beyond that. Art, however, when shared internationally, plays an important role in our perceptions of one another – it has the power to bring us closer together, realize our common points, and appreciate our differences. Considering the ever-rising xenophobia this is not negligible. On the example of China specifically, we are currently witnessing a concerning growth of hate towards the country and its people because of the Covid-19 pandemic. The novel coronavirus outbreak that could’ve happened anywhere played perfectly not just into many stereotypical narratives about the Chinese people, but also into political conspiracy theories brought up by cold war propaganda. These feelings of hate are not coincidental – they are the product of intentional alienation, lack of cultural worldliness, and apathy towards who we consider an Other. In this context, intercultural artistic exchanges can help bridge the divide and this is what the artistic exchanges under the BRI are ought to do. Namely, the aim of these exchanges is to form deeper bonds amongst participating countries and their citizens. As noted in my first contribution where I mapped cross-institutional artistic exchanges between China and Balkan countries, it is overtly stated in most exhibitions that their goal is to bring their cultures closer together through knowledge and understanding. However, they [artistic exchanges] often appear as a mere political masquerade with no real content to them, as the images presented don’t really represent contemporary Chinese identities. This opens up very important questions – do they live up to their supposed potential? Are they adding to positive societal change? Is there space for improvement? Below are my thoughts after conducting a workshop with a few colleagues from the Rockbund Art Museum in Shanghai and Times Museum in Guangzhou who shared their impressions with me. Due to limited visual material not all exhibitions could be used. The first thing one notices when looking at these exhibitions is that they are heavily centered around tradition. For instance, let us look at the Chinese Festival of Lights held in Belgrade in 2020. “Chinese Festival of Lights”, picture by Đorđe Tomić, 2020 These lantern festivals appear to be some of the most popular Chinese exhibitions all around the world. The lanterns are placed as theme parks and as such attract audiences that wouldn’t necessarily enter museums and galleries, giving them much more reach than your usual exhibition. The concept of lantern festivals reaches back to ancient China, and while the lanterns exhibited in Belgrade don’t resemble traditional Chinese lanterns, they portray very characteristic Chinese symbols. We see dragons, bamboo, hand fans, pandas etc. These festivals aren’t necessarily bad for one’s first encounter with Chinese art, especially since they are very inviting for broader audiences, but they don’t provide much more substance than what the average person would already think about when thinking about China. “Exhibiton of Contemporary Chinese Painting”, picture by Tanjung/Tanja Valić, 2019 Even when we look at the exhibitions of contemporary artists, such as the Ink Imagery exhibition held in Kuća Legata (Belgrade) in 2019, we see a lot of traditional influences. While some techniques, shapes, and perspectives presented in this exhibition aren’t traditional, the symbolism is. In the picture above we see a waterfall, the red sun, and a pine tree. In the picture below we can see cherry blossoms and other floral symbols. All of these symbols are very common in traditional Chinese ink painting. For foreigners whose eyes aren’t trained in Chinese art these could easily be understood as classical Chinese paintings and not paintings created by contemporary artists. “Exhibition of Contemporary Chinese Painting”, picture by Tanjung/Tanja Valić, 2019 Such images are usually exhibited in state-owned institutions following narrow and strict narratives. From religious motives to mythological creatures – these paintings present an image of China that is very one-sided and static. We see a lot of bird-and-flower paintings and mountain-and-water paintings. Ever repeating compositions. We don’t get to see any diversity, just strictly canonical images, which have, through repetition, lost all of its meanings. Foreigners who are only subjected to this type of art very easily fall into the trap of thinking that this is all there is to China. And this is common to most of the Chinese art in these exhibitions held in the Balkan region. It is important to note that in the Balkan region, knowledge of Chinese art is very limited. We don’t see much of it exhibited in our museums and galleries, we don’t watch Chinese movies on television, we don’t hear Chinese music on the radio and we don’t learn about it extensively in schools. These limits make it hard to look at the art we do encounter critically. We don’t question the images that we see, the stories they are telling, and the gaps present in them. “Enthusiasm for Ink Wash Painting”, picture by T. Saletović, 2019 “Enthusiasm for Ink Wash Painting”, picture by T. Saletović, 2019 Some of the exhibitions were also historical in nature, showcasing historical art and important artifacts. Such exhibitions naturally bring tradition and historic culture closer to their audiences and for building intercultural understanding and empathy this is just as important as getting to know the contemporary identities, ideas, and characteristics. Yet, it seems that these historical images remain the only accessible knowledge of China and the Chinese people. Lord Baopu explains how to stay away from heat, 1644-1911, ink on silk It appears that what is provided in these artistic exchanges is just one fixed image of China. An image that hasn’t changed in ages, that’s full of gaps and that’s suppressing diversity. As such it cannot adequately represent Chinese identities, especially to foreigners who often lack the knowledge to separate reality from a constructed image. As mentioned above, in the Balkan region most people are very distanced from Chinese culture.They only discuss China in the context of politics which only distorts their views more. Exhibiting these ancient, historical, mythological and religious symbols furthers this mystification instead of providing knowledge and consequently enabling understanding. As Xu Tiantian, Ke Qiwen, and Nikita Yingqian Cai noted there is a big disconnect in these exhibitions from what China really is. There is not just one China and one Chinese identity. Based on carefully selected and distinctly narrated historical images, this forced oneness perfectly resembles classical nationalistic narratives, just served on a nicely decorated plate. This disconnect between representation and reality makes it hard for these exchanges to bridge the divide between the Balkan and Chinese people since knowledge always stays limited and carefully directed. To truly grasp the essence of a different culture the free transmission of knowledge is of utmost importance. And not just knowledge on history – also knowledge on the day-to-day lives of the Chinese people. In conclusion – these exhibitions, although presented as bridges between nations, only further promote nationalistic narratives. These may not enter the realms of radical nationalism, however, they also don’t surpass national conservatism. While the exhibitions held under the BRI provide audiences with entertaining and educational art, they don’t appear to fulfill their purpose of bridging the divide they acknowledge. Marija Glavaš , student of Culturology at the Faculty of Social Sciences in Ljubljana Previous Next
- Activities to stop or to reappear and to be born after (or as a result of) the health crisis
< Back Activities to stop or to reappear and to be born after (or as a result of) the health crisis Yana Gaponenko Bruno Latour proposes to reflect on the current pandemic situation as the possibility to refuse poisoning and damaging activities we had before it as well as emancipating and liberating ones to appear after we learn to live with the consequences of the pandemic. I may for now conclude that we’ll be totally missing our pre-pandemic brains as we used to miss our pre-internet ones. Nostalgia as a safe space element now defines our daily life practices in quarantine: artists, curators, researchers of all kinds return to their unfinished projects, rethink on their previous background and dive into an inner archeology and inner watching. Diaries will return as a tool of everyday notes and individual archiving and dreams will replace physical travelling in space so people will write down and draw their dreams’ narratives as one of the only unpredictable and not controlled by the state adventures spaces in quarantine times. Past time begins to matter and the concept of the future feels to be reduced. The planning horizon is as narrow as one week maximum. Offline meetings with group activities became extremely precious practices of the past and the concept of collectivity moved from the concept itself to the real people groups quarantine put us in – whether it’s our family we locked in with or our neighbors we rent the space with. At the same time family as a social institution will be reconsidered and people will practice single status much more often after all. All human life spheres will be emphasized with the nationality aspect. The concept of a national state already comes back as geographical borders are now more obvious than ever in past decades. The tools of pandemia fight varies from one country to another. Bio, body management and health maintenance is especially politicized now and have all means of control described once by Foucault. Perhaps control over death will return and replace neoliberal control over life as the medical system isn’t able to sustain so many people suffering from diseases. People will be allowed to die as it was in the Middle Ages. One gets medical help depending on the health system status their country has reached due to inner political decisions of the past. The perverse imbalance of medical help reveals total social injustice in all countries. Vulnerable people became even more vulnerable, precarious cultural workers – even more precarious than earlier. Incest, home violence, suicides will grow. There will become more homeless people as a consequence of the economic crisis and physical distance. Capital, be it financial or symbolic, is the key currency nowadays. Institutionally protected artists and curators will for some time rest in their safe spaces whereas total freelancers and the rest of emerging art makers will show more agility and maybe even invent new means of art production. More and more artists will practice work offline and make crafts and art with palpable materials which will remain after the crisis. Barter as an alternative to money exchange for the service will reappear as a practice of surviving and mutually beneficial cooperation. Home agricultural rituals will reappear and people will live with the vegetables and fruits they planted in their houses which will cause the appearance of the new organic forms of life in a human habitat (worms, insects, etc). Searching for vitamin D people will start moving to the south, and so will the building industry. People will reduce consuming food from the supermarkets, clothes (they may use each other’s protecting costumes when going outside now) and the entertaining experience will remain individual as in quarantine times. Invisible labour done by women in families such as housekeeping and childcare will be equated to the paid work and become more regulated and protected. Office work and going to school will cause a lot of debates after the pandemic and will split society into those who put real interactions at the forefront and others who don’t trust people after all biological battles. Vernissages, public art discussions and symposiums will be held less often than before being replaced by individual tours and consultations for those who can afford it. Art infrastructure will be represented by two polar agents: very strong state art institutions with national old art collections and low horizontal self-organised initiatives. No ‘middle class’ private cultural institutions will survive the crisis. Artwork logistics will become chaotic, works will be bought directly from artists studios, there will become more private collections as collectors will support living artists on a barter basis, making collections of the future look subjective. More and more international council boards will appear to decide on the future of art producing today. Big art institutions will combine their collections for mutual survival and reduce exhibition spaces which no one may maintain anymore. National cultural memory of third world countries will since upcoming times be owned by big players among capitalist countries, bringing us to the new era of informational colonisation. Some practices which will most likely be back but not wished: Elite individual original artworks experience (will make capitalistic gaps even bigger) Rewriting history and informational colonisation (oblivion and propaganda will lead to irrevocable consequences) Alt-right and nationalistic tendencies will grow Control over death replacing control over life (ethical crisis) Some practices which will most likely be back and are wished to: Barter and exchange economy (will strengthen horizontal connections) Self-sufficiency with nature materials, sewing clothes, planting food, crafts (will reduce consumerism) Diary notes, archiving, inner archeology, mail art (will reduce visual overproduction) Vladivostok as a relatively young Russian city (est. in 1860) has always been aside from major empire or state disasters and used to be “a state in the state”. As a voluntary and adventurous place it was discovered by those who were ready to start their life from scratch and had nothing to lose or were forced to settle these lands from the west. This entrepreneurial vein comes to the fore every time the region is in crisis. So nowadays, pandemic unfortunately doesn’t deter people from going to work because otherwise they won’t survive the economic crisis. Extremely remote position from the place of state decision making will leave my region to survive on its own as it has already been doing during the 1990s. Poaching seafood and wild animals will intensify, that’s the way people will become closer to nature here. Vladivostok used to be a closed city until the 1990s, therefore solely as a speculation we may assume that the pandemic of 2020 will just make this isolated city as remote and independent as it already used to be thirty years ago and before it as well (exactly one hundred years ago when the Far Eastern Republic was proclaimed here for a couple of years). Yana Gaponenko (born 1988) – curator, lives and works in Vladivostok, Russia. Previous Next
- Partner Cells in Co-Immunity | WCSCD
< Back Partner Cells in Co-Immunity 15 Nov 2020 Conversation between Zdenka Badovinac, Director of Moderna Galerija (Ljubljana), Larys Frogier, Director of the Rockbund Art Museum (Shanghai), Nikita Choi, Chief Curator of Times Museum (Guang Zhou), Aigerim Kapar, founder of Artcom platform (Astana) and Biljana Ciric, founder of WCSCD and initiator of As you go…roads under your feet, towards the new future . Conversation conducted through zoom on August 26th, 2020. Robel Temesgen and prof. Sinkneh Eshetu (Addis Ababa) were two partners also intended to be present though were not able to be. A reminder that our basic functionality is not same for all of us within this project, as we continue to learn how to respect urgencies of the cells within their situated context. Even if only through the small gesture, such as this exchange, of finding a way to listen. From where I am sitting, this conversation was conducted very late in the evening. The evening always seems to somehow spell magic for ideas – but being together in a liminal space of existing in an everytime was even better. It was some kind of wonderful to be connected across the globe, to hear these artists, curators and researchers be united over this beautiful mission to find a way to relate their urgencies to one another – and then from themselves to the rest of the globe. The effects of this pandemic, and the urgencies that are now impossible to ignore, have not been lost on any of us. It is clear that a greater efficacy and criticality is required of our modes of working and the conceptual relevancies we will proceed (or be expected) to put forward. This idea of the intimacy of strangers, the power of the small, and the insistent call of unlearning, are perhaps not entirely new ideas, but throughout the life project, has shown itself to be an extended consideration of care that I’ve yet to see be engaged in such a way. Although we are maintaining our communication, we dwell within different modes of existing, and there were those intended to be present but were not able to be. From them, we have requested responses to this transcript. Robel Temesgen and prof. Sinkneh Eshetu were two such parties. Watching Robel intermittently cutting in and out of the call was a very clear indicator that within this digital sphere, sometimes absence is not a choice. Upon asking him to respond to the transcript of the conversation, he generously re-situated himself within the context. I have maintained these above in italics to expand the framing and possibilities of this dialogue. Prof. Sinkneh, who is currently away, I’m sure shall also see his responses make their way into this conversation, expanding the dialogue once more. This interview, and the project at large, is continuously growing. As we adapt to the world, we also adapt to one another, and if indeed we can talk about dreams publicly, then I would like to hope that the strength of this co-immunity transcends the virus that seemed to give birth to it, and lives on in its own working methodology of care and solidarity. – Ed. Biljana Ciric (BC): Since the project started in February 2020, we have been meeting every two weeks, but this is the first time that we are all meeting together afterwards to have [a] conversation [with the] partner institutions I organized in Addis Ababa in February this year. Some of us had a chance, as a partner cells, to spend time together – to walk and work through the Addis that today, seems very far away. During this month, we learned that the partners, or the cells – I call us “cells” of the project – are not only institutions, but [are also] individuals producing differences within the context situated in. Being already half [a] year into the project – [which] was postponed and had very fragile moments – this conversation serves as a platform where we should look at that half year we spent together, [where we] started as a strangers, [to look at] how this intimacy of strangers as cells can become a productive force. Some of the partner cells are private institutions, some public, some are [single] person institutions, but what is very important [is] that being together today within this project is driven by a personal decision of addressing and reflecting on issues that we all find relevant and [hold] in common, rather than repeating professional modes of working within [the] contemporary art world. As I said, we went through half a year of uncertainty and fragility with this project, and we were all strangers within [it]– well my position was slightly different because you [all] came aboard the project upon my invitation – but through sharing and recognising urgencies that I’m trying to address through this project, I’m hoping [we] can create [a] co-immunity in the times to come and the times of separation we are entering. This conversation is meant to help us reflect on the projects: where we are and [on] the pandemic [which has also] shifted the project – but also addressing your own position within the project, and how you see yourself within the group and things like that. Maybe because Zdenka and I are the only ones who [were] together in Addis Ababa, where we established [the] commonalities of the project that we are trying to work through, I would like to ask [Zdenka] to reflect. Zdenka Badovinac (ZB): Oh okay, shall I start? BC: Yes…the conversation is [being] recorded just to let you know. ZB: Oh, okay. So I very [much] like being [a] part of the project, and that our institution, Moderna Galerija can contribute, at least a little, on the Balkans – from how the new economic influences reflects in our culture, [but] also the social and political issues here. [In] the beginning with Biljana, we decided that our roles would be related to our [respective] regions. I also went to Addis Ababa with Biljana [where] we met extremely interesting people: we learnt a lot about this context that is completely different from ours, but at the same time in Ethiopia, we found part of our former country, Yugoslavia. Ethiopia was a member of the Non-aligned Movement; and business corporations, artists and cultural workers also went there – there were sculptures all around the city built by Yugoslav sculptors, with traces of this also [in] the architecture. You [begin to really] see how the distant past can somehow make the world smaller again. It isn’t only [the] internet, but also history, which reconnects us. After we came back from Ethiopia, the pandemic started soon after – at least, here in Europe and China, [as] it [was already] happening beforehand. It was also [a] very important lesson for our project, for [the] four of us [to realise] how this small virus could affect the whole world. This is [an] important lesson that is based on economic dominance, but also [a] different kind of communication. [You have] this global world with different powers who fight for dominance, and then suddenly you have [this] small, invisible virus that has an influence [on] the economy, politics, the existing power relation[s] – and this is new. Before the world was globalised, the small and invisible – the local – couldn’t influence the world as heavily as [it does] today. This is [a] very important lesson and Biljana, [along with] all the collaborators, decided [on] how [to] follow the developments [that] resulted from the alternatives. And of course, the pandemic that is everywhere (and I think Biljana was just saying that she’s in Melbourne and [in] lockdown), probably [gives us] more time in this world for [a] different kind of online communication. This is important because she [is also] somehow pushing us – at least like us in Ljubljana, for us/art and apparent normality’s sake but you know, it is only an illusion. We don’t know how long it will last and we need to learn how to stay connected – this is very important – and how to reflect from another perspective: [this] new force which [has] homogenised the world. It is not economic or political, but [instead], comes from nature. Nature that has been affected by humans – the result of the Anthropocene. It is very much about rethink[ing] the forces of different commonalities, and this project is perfect [for] it. [But it’s] also how to reflect [on] the non-human aspect of colonialization. I think here, traditional knowledge [or] pre-modern knowledge, is also important. Because modernity is very much about the fast, about progress; and the virus is, of course [the] result of it. Now here we have different localities very much into something pre-modern, and where we can learn from them. Although these pre-modern aspects are somehow also in danger. So it’s a question [of] how to relate the dialogue without being exotic or without romanticising the past. This is something [that] I [also] think [is] very important. Of course, the Balkans is, at least it was, very distant, from Chinese economic influence – but now, we are living in a completely new global situation. There are also, as in [the] Balkans, former Yugoslavian territory [that] was heavily influenced by [Chinese economic powers]. For example, there are investments from China that [are] in power, in infrastructure (like railway roads, highways), and there is a priority at the moment to connect Greece via Serbia to Europe. In the past this route was via Hungary, not via Croatia or Slovenia, so the former infrastructure between Ljubljana and Belgrade in the times of Yugoslavia which lasted 6 hours, for example, takes 11 hours today, because of the bad condition of the railway. It was not modernized for at least three decades. So you can see how the new economic influence and new powers indirectly organises life in the Balkans. I am very much looking forward to collaborating with all of you [in] the near future, and there will hopefully be a symposium in Ljubljana in Moderna Galerija, in March or April, where all the contributions will be presented and where hopefully, we will [finally] meet in real world. Larys Frogier (LF): I am truly happy and honoured to join this project, that has a lot of meaning, from the Rockbund Art Museum context in Shanghai and China. What I find extremely precious in this research project is the concept of the cells: something small that can grow by connecting with, what we call, strangers – and I think we are all strangers to each other, which I also find very beautiful and very constructive, in a way. The As You go… research project also raises the following question: what is a locality today? In a global remapping of the power structures framed by different forms of occupations, Imperialisms, economical warfare, legal warfare, cultural warfare, we need to reinvent other networks and methodologies of connecting and working with each other…Of course, the current context is very violent, in relation to the above mentioned issues and especially to the pandemic. But because each context has different, [has] layers of histories and very specific contemporary challenges, I am very interested in the small for major changes in the future. Instead of working on and raising a big topic, I truly believe that change today comes from the small – maybe even invisible at the beginning, and on the surface – but extremely incisive and powerful, for implementing possibilities to foresee the future, and invent new forms of solidarities which go beyond the concept of domination or occupation. I also truly believe that this research is a way of curating. That is very important for me working inside an institutional framework (as if we are locked down in a museum). It’s how we can question our own institutions in relation to our local contexts, to broaden [into] escaping dominant areas and narratives. Often from Mainland China, when we talk about the international, we always talk about the relation between the west and the east, but these kinds of dichotomies are very reductive for me; building a lot of stereotypes, generalizations, misunderstandings. That is why this project is crucial in the way we can really raise different problematics and new forms of collaboration; learning from our different localities [of] the violence, the inhumanity, [and] the oppression that each of us are facing from our own context, and in the same taking the risk and the desire to step out of it towards constructive contradictions and the unknown. This requires humility at the same time it requires us to take radical constructive positions. As you go… is very meaningful, because it goes in-between the meta-narratives we can find in the economy, in the politics, but also in the art market. We can thus build a research program that gathers together different practices, individuals, and organizations – which could it be artists, anthropologists, scientists, curators and so on. I truly believe that this kind of format fits the implementation of change and cooperation. I believe that we are all connected in a way, even if we cannot travel. Even if we cannot meet each other. I like the concept and the practice of friction-opposition-contradictions. It means not only trying to endlessly talk about colonisation or big histories, but trying to really create the conditions of how we can infiltrate these big narratives and be critical, engaged, and supportive to each other in such difficult contexts. That’s also why this project is meaningful. Now, about the specific context between Mainland China and the rest of the world: I love this country, I love its people, I love where I’m living. It is just that the political and economic system today is extremely problematic to face, and according to myself, no longer valid. So I think this project can also contribute to bring within China more complex angles and richer perspectives – and at the same time, contribute to real, sincere, and multiple engaged voices to the outside world. I think [it] is important to learn from this and go deeper into [what] the details mean across the various and very specific localities both in Mainland China and globally. For me, localities are made of tradition – that is very important – but it is also a practice that is not only tied to something from the past or to a fixed and frozen context. We need to avoid romanticis[ing] and ideologizing these histories and these localities. [The] Locality is made up of different layers. Multiple on-going combinations. Last but not least, we are trying, here and now, to create something that is very valuable for the art scene, and I also hope the professionals [may] engage closely with more human values – but not like humanism as the west and the new eastern powers used to define what humanism is, with all the violence and the colonialism that it engaged with. Art has the power to remake histories, bringing more criticality and more complexity to what we are doing. Nikita Choi (NC): Do I need to have my camera on? BC: It would be great to see you! I haven’t seen you for a long time. NC: Okay…Hello! Okay, so. [We were] interest[ed] to join the As you go project as a cell, largely [inspired by] the project we launched three years ago (the All The Way South Project ) where we worked together with [the] artist to revisit what is currently happening [with] the supply chain between China and the rest of the world (but mostly related to the Souths of the world) [which] was also informed by an early history of trading, even dating back to some colonial history when European empires arrived at the border of [the] country [and at] Canton and Macau. I think [what] would be great is to also expand this trajectory of research, and the geographical imagination related to the migration of labour – but not only restricting [it] to what we think of as objects or materials, colonial goods, or what we are now [calling] consumer products – and what has been underrepresented in history (in other cultural forms or in the arena of contemporary art – this so-called economic purpose of trading). But another thing is [the] trajectory of subaltern migration, and the migration of labourers intertwined with the fluidity of materials, goods, and objects. I think after[wards], in response to the urgency of COVID-19, one thing we [will] probably have to learn from the ongoing crisis is the vulnerability of our existing structure of globalisation. I think we all know that contemporary, or Chinese contemporary art – or China in general – benefitted from globalisation – [saying this] as a member of this community and as someone whose personal trajectory also actually benefitted from that. But now it’s not going to be the same globalisation we recognise – so what [becomes of] our position? We also realised, by working with artists and other researchers over the years – heard a lot of individual stories, and precarious voices – [that] local or empirical knowledge can also be filtered by ideological constructs and power relations. Part of it, [and] I also agree with Larys’ critique of [the] institution itself, is the lack of critique about the Euro-American canons of institutions or exhibition-making in China; and we have to further interrogate the dominance of art markets after the shock of the pandemic. As an institutional practitioners and cultural makers, we should think beyond the current hegemony and divide, and really try to stay connected with people. The last thing is about the crisis of exhibitions and what curating means. What we used to think of as the norms of curating might not be possible. So how do we think of other disciplines, or what curating might be? What about audiences and communities? What is the relationship between locality and physical proximity? Can we also cross media or disciplines, and reach out to other kinds of communities and audiences? BC: Aigerim? Aigerim Kapar (AK): Thank you. So actually, the Artcom platform and I just joined the project and I’m very glad that we have this opportunity to participate in something so interesting. I’m very interested to see how the project can really develop through our collaborations, and the way Biljana noticed the way strangers can become partners. Especially in this difficult and incomprehensible time, [which has] on the one hand divided [us], and on the other hand, made [us] closer through the online sphere and zoom meetings. It is really important for me that during the pandemic we stay connected and somehow productive. My interest in this project is immense due to [how] the ecological situation in Kazakhstan in Central Asia, and around the world is becoming more and more complicated and aggravated. This pandemic is also the result of these unresolved problems and [poses] a big challenge for all of us. Economical and transport projects and initiatives, like the BRI, will increasingly have an influence on the ecological and environmental situation. Significant for me within the project, is to focus on how art practitioners (artists, curators, researchers) can contribute to understanding or rethinking – or even creating – change, and finding ways to solve social, environmental challenges posed by our political and economic situations and frames. Robel Temesgen (RT): I also would like to say that, this project came in time for Ethiopia. As you have all witnessed, the connection with China is vivid but there hasn’t been a deeper analysis or intervention – especially within the cultural field (at least from what I know). So when I hear about the circumferences of the project from Biljana, it excites me for two major reasons. One is that this is not a sole intervention to investigate Ethiopia and China. This encompasses a broader range to cross check and learn from each other. With that, we all have to remember that it is not an institution, but rather an independent interest that has brought us all together. That is power. This has also been my sub-conscious interest to look into, though I never took action. Of course, there are many more motivations, but two is enough to mention [for now]. BC: Thanks. I mean, this project is actually [the] first curatorial inquiry of What Could/Should Curating Do, [which] is a small institution that I founded in Belgrade three years ago. It started as [an] educational institution running [a] curatorial program for artists and curators [who] focus on looking at curatorial practices on [the] margins of the global. Many of you today who are partner cells actually participated and shared your knowledge during these workshops. So the plan is to try to work throughout [this] inquiry on a longer term. To actually start [to] try [and] propose establishing different forms of relationships through slow modes of working. But what is really interesting within this, [is] that most of our contemporary art practices – and I think Nikita mentioned this a bit, specifically from [the] context of China which is very much Western European and American oriented – [is that] there has been very little contact with other parts of the world. I think it’s [also] the same with many countries within [the] Balkans, except specific cases like Moderna Galerija and the way Zdenka and her team work. Most of the contemporary art communication is through very short-term exhibitions, and [is] very much funding structure oriented – that again, I would say, is related to Western Europe. I think before we established this working platform, we actually knew very little about each other’s local contexts and the local practices, because there was actually no channel to do [so] – even though some really fragmented channels throughout history existed through Non-aligned Movements or early connections during [the] 60s and 70s. But one other thing that came out during our meetings, and maybe we can talk about this, is the aspect of visibility. What does that mean [for] the project? Because [this] project does kind of give visibility to certain local contexts in [a] different way and ambiguity of that visibility., even in times of unrest, and this is what we try to do through our online journal – reflecting on unrest that [has] happened in different places where the project is situated. So maybe if you have any notes to add about [the] importance of this aspect of visibility? Through the projects, especially in this time of the pandemic. ZB: I also think that we think visibility is positive thing. That we need to make more visible the marginal place: marginalised places, marginalised histories, neglected artists, subjects and so on. But like most other things, visibility also has [another] side. This visibility can also be something that, after certain types of art or cultural production has been somewhere, let’s say protected from instruments of the dominant art system, [that] it has more autonomy – at least in regard to broader power networks – in a way. As soon as something becomes more visible, it becomes also [a part of the] market. [The] market prioritises specific content, enforces the dominant epistemologies, artists, curators….And I think our group has this potential: to avoid the problems related to visibility, [since] we are of very different institutions [and] none of our institutions are [at] the centre of power. But I would say at the same time that we must all sustain critical thinking. The international art world is very much orientated to the unknown, so of course we will contribute to the visibility of our context, artists, and topics, but at the same time, I think we should be aware of the possible instrumentalization later. NC: I – Can I-? BC: Go ahead. NC: I also think as museums, institutions, or curators, [we might need to] shift from focusing on visibility to thinking about our roles in mediating the production and circulation of common knowledge. The divide of [the] infosphere, physical and ideological borders, makes it even more difficult and challenging for cultural makers to claim that, “something happened [in] a far-away community or [to] a strange individual, [and it] has something to do with me.” It’s becoming more difficult for people to think, “we are related,” even with the development of technology. That’s why we have to keep saying that we are all part of [this], even though [we’re] confronting the reality of isolation and separation. That was something I also recently picked up from a podcast between several young Chinese scholars, and how they think of the role of public knowledge. One of the interlocuters said [that] if you don’t try and provide a different perspective, other cultural products, such as soap operas or [other forms of] mainstream media, will occupy that vacancy of discourse, or manipulate people’s ideas – or as Zdenka said, use history as a tool. LF: To the question of visibility I would answer by one of invisibility… Indeed I strongly believe it is very precious and important to cultivate active strategies of invisibility today. As Nikita and Zdkena were saying, by promoting extra visibility we are either appropriated by the market, or we go into a formatted way of thinking and curating. Invisibility is a huge paradox, especially when you are working with art in a museum to curate exhibitions, to showcase artists, to display artworks, to promote art projects. But I truly believe today, in a society of extra surveillance, permanent self and political propaganda, overloaded mega art industries and markets, the most interesting artists and researchers today are the ones trying to dig deeper – escaping the surface of art and social media, exploring micro-dimensions, creating the conditions for new forms of creating and experiencing art. For our project, I think it is very important to raise questions and challenges that can challenge the dominant discourses and institutions: going step-by-step, learning deeper, not compromising, but also taking radical and decisive positions… Invisibility today is not to be inexistent, but is exactly the contrary. It is an act, a choice, a practice, a strategy of resistance and opposition that allows other forms of action and visibility. Invisibility today also touches the crucial notion and practice of time. It is no longer enough to only be visible once and then disappear (like many big exhibitions curated all over the world). Time is also linked to the practice of caring. This concept of caring is important to develop in this project that makes artworks and texts, and for me, is also related to sounds. I’m very engaged [with] music production in different parts of the world, and I look very closely [at] what is happening in the arts in different localities – to not only look from a Western or Chinese perspective. For example, if we take the momentum of Black Lives Matter (that is a very big topic at the moment), I think it is much more important to listen to artists like Robel [Temesgen], who are literally invisible within the political and art scene, but who are interrogating similar, if not much more important, forms of violence that are never talked [about] on the media. It’s the same when you see and listen to some people like the Aural Archipelago in Indonesia. They are going [to] different islands and archipelagos to record traditional instruments – because Indonesia is not only one country. [It] is made [up] of thousands of islands with different cultures, and these very small, tiny [communities] and contexts. So I think it is important to be invisible to embrace the multiplicity. But at the same time, of course, it is our responsibility find another modes of visibility as professionals working within institutions, or as independent curators and researchers. I just think it is important to keep ourselves safe from the big façade (or what we call here in China the “good face”). Frankly speaking, I just don’t care at all about this. My priority is to step out from this system in order to show the real face of the people [ laughs ]. It’s also the about the importance of trying to unveil and reveal our own monstrosity as individuals and societies, because we need to face this. As you go… has the capacity to reveal what is constructive [within] these unexpected interconnections between different people and areas that we are trying to understand, to learn from, and to develop. I believe this is also something that will make a change. Not in a spectacular way, but in [the] long-term. Such [a] project can decisively contribute to a better understanding and constructive way of working in the art field. RT: I view this aspect of visibility (for the sake of this conversation), as a person living in Ethiopia. [A] few weeks back, [the] internet was shut down throughout the entire country and it made me realise, even in somewhere as unexposed as Ethiopia, that little visibility still matters. It made me realise how important it is to be passively visible and seen. I was so focused on how I was missing out on what was going on around the world, but [I realised] to be visible and maintain accessibility to others, plays a great role when it comes to artistic production and interactions at large. BC: Aigerim, would you like to add something? AK: Yeah, maybe some small things. Art, artists and curators are less visible in Kazakhstan – our voices do not sound from the main news or information platforms. Kazakhstan, and the entire Central Asia region as a whole, are not visible in the world. Especially today, when it is completely impossible through [the] news and media, or social media, to clearly understand what is really going on somewhere. Visibility is becoming a challenge. There is so much online, [that the] noise of information does not allow [us] to put together a reliable picture. The online journal As you go… and our meetings made it possible for me to establish a connection with regions and localities involved in the project through these alternative ways, to see your situations and hear the voices of local people and communities. AK: And there are always both sides : positive and negative. Visibility also entails [a] manipulation of information, and sometimes it is really destructive. BC: Larys, do you want to say something? LF: I am just interested in knowing how each of us can engage [as] we are developing this research. Because for me at the beginning, to take the metaphor of water again, it was [a sort of] “floating” process. But I also like this feeling of not knowing what the big topic or big question is. The more I delve into this project, the more I’m excited [by it], the denser and richer it becomes. So I just want to [understand] the feelings of each of you – how do you believe in this project? ZB: That’s a nice question for the end. BC: Beautiful end [laughs]. ZB: I think it has its own life, this project, and I always like projects that are not too structured in the beginning. That [are] informed by social experiences, and changes within its own duration, and this is what is happening with our project. The pandemic happened during the project, and so what would [it] be if this started with a very structured frame? We would lose very important historical moments. It’s very exciting to be part of it, and who knows where the project [will] lead us. It’s very unpredictable, and I am very happy to be a part of it. LF: Yes. NC: I think for me, being part of the project is really to unlearn what we have learned. Especially because the majority of the education that I had within China’s educational system [made me] aware of how uneven, or asymmetrical the narrative of history [is] and how it is dictated by national ideology, and all [of] that. So it’s really important for me to unlearn that. But also in terms of curating and what we think of contemporary infrastructure – I myself don’t know much. Don’t know enough…beyond Euro-American contacts and references, so it’s very inspiring for me to go outside of our usual comfort zone. Another thing is to find a way out [of] this trap of [contemporary art], because contemporary art [has] always had this cosmopolitan vision – but how to do we, especially now after this pandemic, navigate a way between this dichotomy of the universality and the particularity? And what has also probably been mentioned before: globalisation and the global. The global and the local used to be such an important or heated topic, I think in the 90s and early 2000s, but the context has [now] changed. This optimism, and what we are now negotiating within…we should remind ourselves not to fall into the traps. So that’s why I believe in being [a] part of the project: it will open up different paths. AK: I’m also excited by this project and inspired by our way of working. I have a deep interest in the regions which are connecting through this project. I really believe in these aims of knowledge production, and how we will think about our commonalities and features, and futures. RT: The belief in this project from my side also came from a short, but physical, conversation I had with Biljana. I wonder if I would have been equally interested or as happy to be involved if the initial conversation was virtual (or at least textual). Because for me, what I see in this project is that there is also (to an extent) emotion. That is the drive I believe in to help structure the ‘bigger question’ within this independent and collective interest. BC: What about you Larys? LF: We don’t know where we are going, but at least we are going out. We are stepping out of something. So it’s a very constructive way for me as an individual, and also [as] someone who is in charge of curatorial projects. I think this research program is also about substance, right? It’s about what we call substance, today. It isn’t only [about] a program of exhibitions. It’s not just a program of education activities. It’s something that is much more related to its content, and brings us together today. [It’s] about how can we have a voice. Yes, we talked about invisibility, but this project also has the capacity to raise multiple voices from those who are often forgotten, or excluded and invisible. This makes it very important work, at least from my own position. It’s something that is very precious for me [with]in the institution: to try and develop this other way of working and thinking, to actively try and support artist’s projects. But I believe nowadays, even artists are not enough anymore. This [project] is also about people looking [at] climate change, or [a] female working in Asia related to agriculture – all developing new projects that very much remain invisible. All [of] this for me is very important. BC: Yes. I mean of course these long-term projects are about establishing deeper relationships and connections, but [it’s] also [a] steady dynamic in response to the world and change, and how [the] world truly [has] greatly changed in a last half a year. There is a big structure [in] three years, but what I am hoping is maybe we [can] have this exercise: of three years of knowing [each other] and understanding each other’s urgencies, to establish a long-term relationship and [a] different horizontality [of] how we can work together within the places that we’re situated in. [In] the back of my [mind], there is this great example that Zdenka initiated in the LInternationale European museum confederation , linked to this unity [that had been] successful for ten years and produced some really important knowledge, as a contribution to the global from their own specific contexts. My dream, if we can talk about dreams publicly, is to walk towards [the] possibility of working together through our set of different commonalities and [this] established network. BC: But this is [for] something that is after three years, let’s say – after [the end of the] project. NC: I think three years is a beautiful commitment. Based, or working, in China, it’s really hard trying to imagine such [a] long-term commitment. So I like that thought. BC: Yes. I know…for all of us, I think it’s hard to imagine what will happen in the next three years, no? LF: Yes. BC: I guess we have to – NC: But when you…the age thing also. When you were younger it’s easier to imagine. You’d think, “oh! [I] know what’s going to happen ten years later!” [ laughs ] BC: [ smiles ]. Okay, I think we should call it an end here, but thank-you for your time today (it’s been very long). Sinkneh Eshetu: When this conversation happened, I was in the Gamo Highlands celebrating maskala – a pre-Christian holiday (New Year) – of the indigenous Gamo People. It is labelled, however, as a Christian holiday: Maskal (the finding of the true cross). This is how easily naming can lead or mislead, denote identity or deny voice. The landscape is as ancient and natural as the holiday. Upon first sight you would be sure you could breathe freely out there. The political turmoil agitating the government and the people in Addis seem to be very far away. Concerns over Coronavirus and the over-saturation of information seems to be non-existent here. Not seeing anybody observe the officially enforced anti-Corona procedures (that once used to send you to prison for not wearing a mask when walking alone), would almost lead you to suspect that no one here had heard of the virus. When you start to breathe free and deep, however, some thoughts begin to infiltrate your soul and disturb your peace. You have heard and seen that churches and houses are being built on the sacred lands androutes of indigenous communities. You have also seen a sacred tree, considered the node of the Gamo universe, dried up, with the people denied permission to replace it. You have heard that there is a huge drive to urbanize these places, mainly to keep the transient political machine humming. Mobile phones and Coca-Cola drinks are becoming part of the people’s everyday life. All of these make you worry over how long tradition will be able to preserve itself. When I was preparing to travel to the Gamo Highlands, I had imagined Wi-Fi would be unthinkable there (which I communicated to Bilijana). However, I saw an Oxford professor who was accompanying us, one of the few Gamo people who were able to access an education, order a Huawei Wi-Fi router in a town there. The drive to modernize is very aggressive. It’s making life, politics, and the economy transient. You can see the impact of this transiency on the environment as well as the culture. But whatever the change and whoever its author, you can’t help but see it as a threat, for speed is often alien to the natural flow of things. You want to act fast and speak loudly to make people aware of what is at stake, but with everyone caught in their urgency to have a voice and be heard, the noise becomes deafening. Humanly and ecologically sensible songs and poems can easily go unheard. This makes artistic endeavours such as As you go …, and the curatorial inquiry that birthed it, very crucial. It gives you the confidence that, although alone you are a chirping cricket whose song is swallowed by the croaks and crows everywhere, together we are roaring lions who could move slumbering hearts. Alone, you are a helpless breath that could hardly flip a dried leaf. Together we are the surging wave of an ocean that could move mountains. The symbolism of the cell makes so much sense with this regard, for it is with other cells that you can become a recognizable organism. I was fortunate to be present when Biljana and other “cells” of this project gave a presentation at Guramayne Art Gallery in Addis. I must admit I didn’t quite understand it. However, I had an opportunity to meet the group again and discuss the project at Zoma Park the next day. That gave me the chance to learn more about the project and think aloud on how I could be a part of it. Perceiving this is as an art project, I was proposing ideas that I thought were “art-like”. I guess then, the ideas I raised did not fall in line with the objective of As you go… During our break, I was walking with Biljana in the park when I mentioned my concern over the river restoration project that our Prime Minster initiated. That caught Biljana’s interest and it was then I easily became a part of As you go… However, it made me wonder, and I am still wondering, how that research project could be art. This marks the second time I am part of an art project. The first was for the Travelling Communique on the Non-aligned movement, organized by the Dutch Art Institute and Belgrade History Museum. I remember then that I did not feel I was making art. I just wrote a proposal. I have the same feeling this time, too. I am so busy with my personal projects that I am finding it hard to focus on this project to the extent that it remains inspiring and enjoyable. “Is that my fault or the nature of the project?” I wonder. Still, I see the importance of being a part of As you go … for I believe it will enable the research we are doing to be heard – to influence future decisions locally and globally, saving river ecosystems from irreversible destruction. I hope that with my research partners, Aziza and Berhanu, whilst adjusting the communication and other issues within our work, that we may ultimately deliver on our objectives. This response was written following the original conversation on the 16th Oct 2020. Click to read Russian and Kazakh version of the conversion. Previous Next
- Belgrade Calling 2 | WCSCD
< Back Belgrade Calling 2 15 July 2020 Katarina Kostandinović Birdhead, April protests in Belgrade, 2017 When thinking about the title of this text, I thought of “Is Belgrade Burning?”, referring to “Is Paris Burning?” – the question Hitler is said to have asked on receiving the news of its fall. But I changed my mind; I did not want to dramatize the situation in Belgrade, which has, in the last week, escalated into several days of protests, police brutality and general dissatisfaction that threatens to be annulled by the authorities and the regime media. In a previous article that I wrote for this journal, through the form of diary entries, I dealt with the situation caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. This text is a reaction to the current situation caused by unprofessional management of the coronavirus crisis, by the state representatives and the Crisis Staff. I’d like to clarify the position I am taking in writing the following text. I am an academic citizen and cultural worker employed in one of the public institutions of the city of Belgrade. In addition to supporting my generation in protests and expressing our dissatisfaction and recoil in fear, I want to condemn the rhetoric of violence, to rebel against corrupt officials, to condemn sexual predators and take the side of their victims. I want to allow myself to tell for the first time what kind of future I want and where I (don’t) want to live. To get out of the media darkness that has been overshadowing us all for some time, to support my colleagues and professors in the fight against plagiarized diplomas, I want nepotism to stop and positions in institutions to be filled on the basis of competency and knowledge. I want to support the fight for human rights, the rule of law and justice! DOUBLE STANDARDS and SOCIAL MEDIA AS AN EMERGING PUBLIC COUNTER SPHERE On June 21, the citizens of Serbia voted in the first parliamentary elections in Europe during the coronavirus pandemic, and part of the opposition decided to boycott the elections. A little more than a month before the elections, the state of emergency was lifted and people were encouraged to return to “normal”. That meant the possibility of holding sports matches and celebrations again, re-opening clubs and conducting an election campaign, as well as the elections. The new COVID-regime was meant to set the conditions for the upcoming parliamentary elections and voting procedures. While president Vučić was preparing, the cracks in the healthcare system and state’s neglect of health infrastructure became even more obvious than before [1] . Although the fact that the ruling Serbian Progressive Party won convincingly was not a surprise, there were discrepancies in real and reported numbers. Shortly after, the number of infected people started to rise and this time the numbers of infected and deceased people from some cities did not match the official data coming from the Crisis Staff and the state representatives. New precautions had to be introduced; among other things, the president decides to evict students from dorms in the middle of the exam period, identifying them as a dangerous factor in spreading the infection. After the report on the president’s decision on the same day, July 3, students from Belgrade gathered in front of the National Assembly to protest – the reaction was spontaneous and urgent. On Tuesday, July 7, after President Vučić announced that a curfew should be introduced in Belgrade, due to the rapid spread of the virus, thousands of citizens took to the streets of the capital to express their dissatisfaction. It was the first of seven protests held so far, which turned into a brutal showdown between police and protesters for almost three nights in a row. The protest turned into riots and people were throwing rocks and garbage cans, containers were set on fire, as well as police vehicles. On the first day of the protest, according to the information by the Ministry of Internal Affairs, four vehicles were set on fire, while one was damaged. Shortly after the arson, a story erupted on social networks that members of the police a.k.a. trained hooligans controlled by the state were behind such deeds. Most social network users are convinced that the Ministry of the Interior burned their vehicles on their own, old and unusable ones, which they are trying to prove with photos. On the other hand, the representatives of the Ministry of Internal Affairs deny it. Social media, these days, is a serious channel through which information travels, people who protest from the streets report, and people who are not able to get to the streets share the content with incredible speed. Messages are of various content – from warnings about the movement of the police, mapping of suspicious persons at protests to articles of the law on protection of citizens and rights during arrests or police duties when using weapons, etc. Such mobilization through social networks was encouraged partly by footages of independent journalists who were the few to report on the protest, and largely by footages of protesters noticing police brutality and false statements by government officials denying the brutality in the media. Mass civil protests are a burning topic on social media and the public sphere. Numerous people have been discussing violence they have been witnessing. Thus, there is also fake news (both on social and TV networks) and corrupted media are now attracting even more attention – it is a matter of different content, and I will mention one. Reporting by a pre-written text, while people were sitting at the protest third day in a row, B92 TV news anchor states in the news at 11 pm that “the protest turned into violent demonstrations and clashes with the police”, although that was not true. The same reporter later joined the program live, saying that “there were no major incidents”. The fact that the “script” which anchor read in the studio was written in advance is evidenced by photos and recordings from the protest on Thursday, which, apart from a few minor clashes between the protesters, took place in peace and without clashes with the police. The mobilization on social networks gives the impression that the news from Belgrade is being transmitted outside the borders of Serbia. However, again, there are notable examples of biasing and altering news. Photo by Katarina Kostandinović WHO IS WHO and WHOM ARE YOU PROTECTING? For several days now, I have been witnessing a similar choreography of police and “hooligans” who are believed to be there to provoke incidents so that the government, supposedly, can blame the “organizers” of the protest for the violence and take violent steps to suppress the protest. People gather in front of the Assembly, the loudest and right-wing ones are in front of the entrance to the building, most of the other protesters surround them. Derogatory words are being shouted, the government is called out, Kosovo is mentioned, and specific demands are heard in some places. Some of the demands that can be heard are the following: the resignation of President Vučić; resignation of members of the Crisis Staff; overthrowing parliamentary elections; that the formation of Assembly and the Government should not be allowed on the basis of illegal and fraudulent elections, a law prohibiting party affiliation to employees in the judiciary, inspection, education, health, police and military; return open calls for employment in the public sector, without party employment; etc. Tension and dissatisfaction grow and after a while rocks are fired. The police came out of the Assembly and moved to the crowd in front of the building. Torches were lit, they flew towards the police, and at that moment, tear gas was flying from the other side towards the protesters who were fleeing from the police cordon that separated the group and continued to suppress it in the side streets and parks. It was the first time that my friends and I felt tear gas and its consequences. Later that night I saw the footage of the N1 television (one of the few that was on the scene that night).It showed the brutal beating of young men who were sitting in the park next to the Assembly. In the following evenings, from the terraces of apartments in the city centre, people recorded various cases of police brutality, and the number of arrested and beaten people on the streets grew from night to the night. It is undeniable that some police officers were hurt too, but the number of hurt unarmed civilians was much larger than reported. Revolted by the reaction of state representatives, whose speeches and announcements often confuse the Serbian public, regarding the protests and their violent suppression and final disintegration, people continue to gather next day at the same time in front of the Assembly. The next day, reactions to the police violence that happened the previous evening could be heard from the crowd. Then, after a couple of hours of protest, the situation escalated again into chaos and fleeing from tear gas and, now, better-equipped police forces, cordons, cavalry, and special anti-terrorist units in armoured vehicles. The violence on the streets of Belgrade which we witnessed opened the question of who are these people attacking police and whether there are those who are there to quell the protests from within “inserted” among us. This time, the aggression increased on both sides and the collision with the police continued. A huge amount of tear gas was fired, which was now coming to the apartments in the streets where people were fleeing and hiding. The denial of the fact that the police fired tear gas at all, by the prime minister herself, led the protesters to take the streets peacefully the next day, to show disgust with the police brutality while sitting in front of the Assembly. After two days of brutal clashes with the police, the protesters gathered under the slogan “Sit down – Don’t be manipulated”. Authorities withdrew the police and seemingly acknowledged the peaceful protests, which escalated with the president’s next public announcements. As usual, his aggressive rhetoric when addressing citizens and journalists, which oscillates between the role of a worried father and a frightening tyrant, encouraged protesters to take to the streets for the fourth night in a row. And the now well-known choreography is repeated with even stronger police forces, which this time arrest everyone who is on their way and take them to, as it is stated, the Assembly, where they interrogate the detainees, beat them, take away their phones and write reports. The media have been reporting that after the conflict in front of the Assembly, the police fired a large amount of tear gas into the mass of peaceful demonstrators, some of whom are 30 years old. The cartridges that were scattered on the streets near the Assembly of Serbia clearly show that the year of production is 1990. The current debate in media discusses the effects of old tear gas, which, apparently, after five years changes its chemical composition and the substance becomes stronger. This can imply that the convention on the use of chemical weapons was violated and human health was directly endangered. State officials and Ministry of the Interior denied these reports, stating that the inevitable was done in order to quell the violent protest and prevent greater damage. People are more and more scared and, consequently, there are obviously fewer people gathering, unlike the first two days of the protest. During the weekend the number of protesters almost halved, and this Monday (July 13) was immeasurably lower than the first few days. This is partly a consequence of the increase in police patrols, which have been on the streets of Belgrade, searching for people who get in their way, especially those with protest banners.Several arrests have been reported. On the other hand, reported cases of cell phone hackings and deleting of the protest recordings brought unrest and additional fear due to privacy violation. The police have arrested non-violent protesters, among them leftist activists. This prompted the protest movement from the Assembly to the Central Prison in Belgrade, where protesters are demanding the release of “political prisoners” [2] . Yesterday and today, July 14, people are protesting because of numerous arrested activists and students who were not violent during the protest –some were just passers-by interrogated by police whose statements were falsified. They were then sentenced to 30 days in prison, without the possibility to contact a lawyer and defend themselves in court. We are scared and disoriented, it seems that the expressed rebellion and anger did not get any political articulation and does not turn into a strategy in the fight against the current government or a strategy of clearly defined demands that would pressure the government to meet those demands. The role of the opposition, which has been left without the organizational capacity and credibility to address the citizens at this political moment, seems unwelcomed. How to articulate a rebellion against impotent representatives of the people, who confuse, deceive and criminalize their citizens? How to express dissatisfaction with public information and corrupt media? How to invite colleagues, professors, friends to join and not be afraid to withdraw from obedience to the perennial fear government? In the previous few days, perhaps the most serious protests were held during the rule of Aleksandar Vučić, who already after the first evening fulfilled the first and so far the only request of the demonstrators – a change in the decision to reintroduce the curfew. Some would say that no matter how these protests end, it is a big and serious thing, especially since the public, after the “One in Five Million” protest ended, speculated whether and when energy would be accumulated for new protests. It turned out, on Tuesday night, July 7, that only one spontaneous gathering of angry citizens, due to the announcement of a new curfew, was more fruitful than about a year of protests led by the opposition. The protest became a place where politically, ideologically diverse people gather, and how the day will look like depends on the current dominance in the number of some of them. The only thing that is constant and common to everyone in front of the Assembly of Serbia is dissatisfaction with the regime and the current situation in the country. For the first time since the April protests in 2017, when Vučić was elected for president, we see young people on the streets, mostly those aged 18 to 30-40. There were also sympathizers and activists from the oppositional Alliance for Serbia, Don’t Let Belgrade Drown, activists from the Roof (anti eviction organization), the New Social Democratic Union, artists and cultural workers, but also alt-right groups such as People’s patrols, Levijatan, as well as workers from the Private Security Agency Protector. Public institutions are still in the dark, no one has stepped forward, unions are silent too, and people are scared to join because they see no defined prospect. It is showed that those who stood against the current rule were criminalized and overshadowed, even silenced. I am afraid that any civil protest that will take place in the future in this way will be compromised. It seems to me that the public is confused by the number of young people on the streets. They are not seen at rallies of the opposition or the ruling party, the public is confused by the so-called orientation of people, which again, cannot be reduced to those political and ideological phrases that existed at the time of October 5th 2000, when the people rebelled against Milošević’s rule and finally overthrew him. This is a generational thing, there are young people left and right oriented, civic oriented and patriotic oriented, but the regime media impose their ideological phrases and criminalize what they do not understand. The notion of left and right is not valid at this political moment, we also have to rethink the terminology and its historical and/or current state. We wonder whether the right-wingers are the people who are advocating for Kosovo at the protest and its preservation in the constitutional and legal order of the Republic of Serbia, advocating for physical security and the right to property and the rule of law, both for Serbs and Albanians in Kosovo. Is it a right-wing or liberal vocabulary? Is a leftist someone who stands for ethnically clean territories – for the policy of demarcation and, thus, follows the policy of the West? How broad is the political spectrum that we know, and how much do we know? Now, only a thin layer of educated young people from larger cities are on the streets (Niš, Novi Sad, Zrenjanin, Kragujevac, Novi Pazar, etc.). Those who still have a lot of strength and a lot of life ahead of them. But we fail to turn indignation into political demands, because the opposition is incapable of helping us, among other things. Our parents have been exhausted for a long time and are not ready to stand up, those who fought for the democratization of society in 2000, gave up. We live in Belgrade, in a bubble, without contact with people who vote for the ruling party and whose world and worries we do not understand. They are trapped in an authoritarian system that their children, WE, want to blow up. I don’t want to be pessimistic, but even this time it doesn’t seem that the uprising will be successful, the spontaneous civic protest is facing the question of “and then what”. It seems that our opposition, as it is today, is not ready and is lacking strong support of the people. We need an organic opposition that will be formed at the protests. We have to think long-term and offer ideas and policies, talk about solutions because it will be difficult to defeat the tyrant in his field of violence. Photo by Katarina Kostandinović ENDING NOTE It seems that the fight against the coronavirus will not end so quickly. It seems that the members of the Crisis Staff found themselves unprepared again in the fight against the epidemic. While the authorities have the responsibility to ensure public order and to respond to individual violent incidents, the disproportionate use of force against entire demonstrations is not justified. Heavy-handed measures of the kind we have seen over the past few days infringe the rights of those protesting peacefully and will only increase tension and provoke hostility, leading to an escalation of the situation. It is a matter of time before a state of emergency is introduced again, which in a way blurs some priorities and raises alarms about how human rights are being balanced against the risks posed by COVID-19. The last time Serbia was in the State of Emergency was in 2003 following the assassination of Prime Minister Zoran Đinđić; on which occasion the government derogated numerous human rights, including the right to privacy, the right to freedom of movement, the right to freedom of expression and the freedom of media. P.S. THE LEGACY OF THE OCTOBER 5 This year marks the twentieth anniversary of the great demonstrations in Belgrade that ended Slobodan Milošević’s rule on October 5, 2000 [3] . The Democratic Opposition of Serbia called on the citizens to gather in front of the National Assembly on October 5 in order to oppose the great election theft that the Federal Election Commission carried out on the order of Milošević. The opposition ultimately demanded that Slobodan Milošević recognizes the electoral will of the citizens expressed in the federal, presidential and local elections held on September 24, by 3 pm on Thursday, October 5, 2000. It was also demanded that all those arrested be released, as well as that the arrest warrants and criminal charges filed against those who protested for respecting the electoral will of the citizens of Serbia be withdrawn. Currently, the then participants in Slobodan Milošević’s government are once again occupying the most important positions in the country. Katarina Kostandinović is an art historian and curator based in Belgrade, Serbia. [1] https://dversia.net/6026/serbia-mass-protest-vucic/?fbclid=IwAR2LDkBeUtiKHIfbMQxTnSo807MkULpu5VF3qKwjj7EUOURSJgHMd08mKQc [2] https://www.masina.rs/eng/beating-and-jailing-of-non-violent-activists-followed-by-protest-in-front-of-belgrade-central-prison/?fbclid=IwAR20g4iHhvUn5jA3mvNUfu91-5scgs_KODi3-rIZaOeMDZhgrOH5TZKIqds [3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Overthrow_of_Slobodan_Milo%C5%A1evi%C4%87 ; (See also: https://www.nytimes.com/2000/10/05/continuous/yugoslav-protesters-set-parliament-on-fire.html , https://balkaninsight.com/2010/10/05/timeline-the-bulldozer-revolution/ ) Previous Next
- Shore Seeing Stillness | WCSCD
< Back Shore Seeing Stillness 15 Dec 2021 Ash Moniz Jumping Ship For many companies its important to locate instances of loss. Which stages of a process or which assets are wasting time or money, can be crucial to identify. Preventing loss is one of the most strategic things that a company can do, and finding the weak spots in a system is necessary for this. Making visible wasted time/money is at the core of managerial processes of commodity circulation, and this is no coincidence considering the role that visualizing lost time played within the material history of representing motion in general. A process map, for example, is “a visual aid for picturing work processes . . . developed from the need to generate visibility of where time is used [so that …] the removal of wasted time from the business processes, could then be applied [1 ] ”. A member of Tylos company, was struggling with one of his assets for years now. After it was originally set up in 1999, it was doing ok for a while, but started to deteriorate as time went on. By the summer of 2017, this Tylos manager was facing severe financial difficulties, and it seemed like his business venture was going to fail. It got to the point where the cost of the repairs necessary to hold on to this asset would be greater than the cost of simply letting it go, which is a common phenomenon in this industry. Once an asset has been around longer than the time that it was originally built to last, then it becomes more expensive to actually maintain, and harder to acquire safety certification. The owner of the company could see that it was going to be way too costly to keep it up, so he decided to count his losses before it got any worse. In the summer of 2017 he decided to jump ship . From this point this asset was no longer owned by anyone, and therefore was no longer registered to operate. To “jump ship” is an English expression that means “to leave an organization because you think its going to fail or because you want to join a rival organization [2] . While the traditional historical meaning referred to an escape from forced captivity, over time the connotation has shifted towards the avoidance of failure (insinuating the desire for success), or in some [3 ] to “leave a difficult situation when you should stay and deal with it” (insinuating neglect for responsibility). Witnessing Stillness Here we have an image. There’s nothing in the image that visually denotes whether or not it was taken as a photograph, or if it is a still from a moving image. If it were a still frame then it would be an interruption of the flow of the moving image. A coming from and leading towards of time outside of the moment in front of us. It would be indexical to the time that it is not. If it were a photograph, it would encompass it’s own time, as it’s own enclosure (beginning and end) of duration. This stillness is indexical only to the “singular” moment that it aims to capture. The most probable signifier of still frame or photograph, is the aspect ratio of the image itself. As a general rule of thumb, it is common that moving image is shot in 16:9 and photographs in 4:3. While there is no signifier of motion in the background, in the foreground we can see motion in the postures of those swimming, the splash of water frozen in mid-air, and the recognizable shape of waves. What is the representational literacy required to read the temporal phenomenon that this image documents? According to film critic Mary Ann Doane [4 ] , if movement were “represented as the eye “really” sees it, it would be characterized by a certain illegibility, constituting itself as blur” Jumping Ship When Mohammed Aisha had to jump ship, he could only legally be on land for very short intervals of time (enough to charge phone, find drinking water, etc.) but then would have to return immediately, and remain on board. Due to Aisha involuntarily being designated as the “legal guardian” of the MV Aman in 2017, after Tylos Shipping and Maritime Services had abandoned ownership of it, Aisha was trapped on board all alone with no electricity or fuel, for four years. In March 2021, journalistic articles came out that spoke of Aisha’s situation (at the end of his fourth year stranded). But regardless of media attention, the only two options for his rescue were if someone volunteered to purchase the ship and become its owner, or if they volunteered to take Mohammed Aisha’s place as legal guardian. In April 2021, the International Transport Workers’ Federation found a representation of theirs to take his place. As such Aisha finally went home to Syria, after losing four years of his life in captivity. However, the ship still remains in place to this day, with an Egyptian volunteer now as its legal guardian. “He was abandoned for four years, and he is still waiting to get paid. We helped him with a lawyer to go to court and claim his wages. But is not enough to say oh this is absolutely criminal, this is absolutely unjust, this is not enough! Because there are people with obligations and responsibilities! Why didn’t the flag do anything, why didn’t the Egyptian maritime authorities do anything? This is where the focus should go!” [5 ] Standing from the shoreline, I am staring at an incarcerative stillness. But how can I witness the temporality of 4.5 years? Witnessing Stillness The imaging of stillness requires a posture of stillness. There’s a video on YouTube of a “Freeze Flash Mob”. It is one of those organized activities where a large group of people come together to freeze in place, mid-action, in the middle of a public area. In one still-frame, we can see a young girl posing in a still position, holding a camera in front of her face. However, if we unpause the image, we can see the she was not a part of the Freeze Mob, but that her stillness was simply to hold a stable position for the few seconds that it takes to take a photograph. (With a camera, one has to perform the stillness that they aim to document.) As we unpause we can see her camera phone flash, as if having taken a photograph to document the surprising historical event of stillness that she sees in front of her. After this flash, she resumed motion (defining her as a spectator, as a non-participant in the event.) The camera aims to capture the event in front of her, as a moment in time that actually happened. But with this photograph she will not have captured the stillness of the historical event that she aimed to. Because we can’t see stillness in a still image. It might be capturing the stillness produced by the photograph, but it is not actually capturing the stillness that of the event to be witnessed. The stillness that actually provides the magnitude of this historical moment. Even if we could see the other ships moving by (which I did standing on the shore taking this photo), we would have no literacy for the precise incarcerative stillness of the MV Aman. Stillness as Location in Time “In absence of the responsibilities of the owner, who is the first to be made responsible, is Bahrian, because this flag under the registration of Bahrain. But if Bahrain is slow, or doesn’t care or doesn’t don’t do what they should do, then we go and ask where the vessel is, thats why we went and knocked the door of Egyptian authorities, because the vessel is under sovereign waters of Egypt.” [6 ] I went to this exact location because where I lived was only an hour and a half away. My own physical proximity meant there was no reason that I wouldn’t have gone to see the ship. But what does proximity provide? No matter how close you get to the incident that is happening in front of you, you still can’t see anything. But what is the location of this violence? How do we locate a Syrian man, on board Bahraini flagged territory, with a Lebanese contractor, stuck in Egyptian waters? How do we locate responsibility, when the ship owner, the flag-state, the national waters, the recruitment agency, the nation of the abandoned, are all completely different. Even though this location is only a couple hundred metres from shore, it is unlocatable within records, as its no longer registered to its ownership. In general, while the shoreline is a defined locality, the visual particularities of an image from shore are quite similar anywhere in the world. The almost flag-like archetype of three horizontal stripes stacked on top of each other (sand, water, sky), exists romantically in the minds of most, even as an imaginary image. This reflects the illocatability of how spectators of the container are easily “mesmerized by its modularity, homogeneity and opacity.” [7 ] The locality of this beach can be defined as a position of spectatorship for viewing the site of incarcerative stillness, the MV Aman, along with many other arrested ships. It can also be defined, by being one of the only public (or non-private) beaches from the Suez Canal to Hurghada, or by being sandwiched between a military base and a highway. Witnessing Lost Time Here we can see the position of spectatorship from which a historical event was witnessed. We can see the viewpoint, the site from which the evidence of lost-time (the historical event of spectacular stillness) was witnessed by Mohammed Aisha. After having been on the ship for four years, one day he saw a massive backlog encroaching upon him, as the entire sea turned into a parking lot of immobile ships, from the entrance of the Suez Canal (a couple km away), all the way down the Red Sea. The stillness produced during these 6 days, became one of the biggest global moments in supply chain history. Only weeks later he was able to go home, thanks to the International Transport Workers Federation. Standing in front of the exact location where the Evergiven was stuck in the Suez Canal, villagers of Mansheyat El Ragoula pointed out to me where it was, and where it could be seen from. We stood on their doorstep practicing looking for something that was no longer there. When asking them how they felt about having taken part in such a global moment, they said that it meant absolutely nothing to them. All they cared about was how difficult it became to talk to people since then. Every time a journalist would come the village, the police would show up immediately. One person I spoke to was arrested for talking to a journalist. [8 ] The spectacle of this stillness brought global traffic to the small village, unlike any other point in its history. The place became temporally and spatially dominated by the schedules of journalists. I Interviewed a journalists’ driver [9 ] who worked during the 6 days of the Evergiven’s interruption, who spoke of the speed and urgency of driving to the hotels, to press conferences, and to find interviewees, etc. But the spectacle of this specific type of stillness, that of global supply-chain interruption, is connected to need, or demand. This stillness is indexical to lost time, to the motion that is not occurring. But what happens when the stillness is no longer a threat; no longer indexical to its potential continuation? Stillness that is not Lost Time Rather than through an increase in ship-engines’ speed capacities over the past decades, the primary site for the shipping industry’s increase in speed is the labour time at each port (the intervals of stillness). This acceleration was accomplished by decreasing workers’ access to shore leave and intensifying the workloads in shorter periods of time. It isn’t about making the motion of a trajectory faster; it’s about diminishing the loss between each trajectory [10 ] . Akinetopsia is an optical term that refers to the inability to see stillness. I have been thinking of this term while producing my archive of instances of supply chain interruptions in Egypt ( for example from strikes and work stoppages in Port Said and Sokhna.) The representation of work stoppages, interruptions, and inventorial losses in the supply chain has a history rooted in mechanisms of visuality and legibility in the quest to represent lost time. In the supply chain, we can easily interpret all non-motion as loss, or interruption. This is exemplified in the “Move Or Die” motto of the UPS-sponsored TV series Great Migrations, morbidly equating all supply-chain stillness to loss, or death. [11 ] But not all stillness in the supply chain is lost-time. Much of the supply-chain’s stillness is not indexical to the continuative motion that would otherwise be assumed. If a ship stops moving due to abandonment, such as the case of Mohammed Aisha, the time is no longer considered lost, because the ship is no longer needed, or demanded. While the case of the MV Aman was one of the worst in history, seafarer abandonment is one the rise. In fact, the Tylos Company alone had 3 other ships abandoned during the same year, with others stranded for up to 2 years. Storage in Motion Its important to see the how the incarcerative mechanics of both stillness and motion intersect through maritime labour, to extend the question of “stillness that is not lost time”, to think of how stillness is in fact produced in transit. Through the mass of interviews [12 ] that I conducted with workers on board a container ship, one of the main statements that came up across the different discussions, was that the ship is like a prison. Some had expressed that at least prisons were on land, within the borders of a nation, had an outdoor yard, and received visits/calls/etc, (which are all largely impossible at sea). The incarcerative attributes of this strict stillness are specifically due to the accelerative motion, because of the decreasing opportunities to ever leave the ship. Shore-leave serves as a “non- time” form of temporality that helps prevent the ship from being such an incarcerate space. If we think of how the stillness in motion and the stillness in stillness interact as different types of temporalities, much of this comes from how the ship as a technology of discipline on its own is a site that has incarcerative qualities. The fact that this stillness exists in motion is also not surprising, for the mere fact of physics. In physics we have concepts such as the Principle of Stationary Action, or Lagrangian. Mechanics, which are generally based around the way that when a constant motion of an object reaches an stable velocity, it appears as still when seen from an object travelling at the same velocity. It maintains a stationary position in motion. That stillness is a significant part of accelerative speed can also be seen within much of the development of what is known as “Just-In-Time” Logistics, which (in simplified terms) is largely based on the idea of compressing the time of storage into the time of transit. As such the idle time of storage-warehousing is then placed into idle time of ships in transit. The time of waiting to be needed sharing its emptiness with the time of waiting to arrive. I wonder if the incarcerative temporalities imposed on maritime-workers share some of the same stillness as the time of storage that was compressed into transit. The literacy of time (stillness/motion) is crucial to the representability of logistics: from the interruptive stillness of worker’s strikes and blockages, to the incarcerative stillness of seafarer abandonment and lack of shore-leave. For the Maritime Portal Residency, I conducted interviews and field work all along the coast from Port Said, to Ragoula, to Adabiya, to Sokhna (from Mediterranean to Red Sea). While the initial intention was to focus on the interviews as a performative practice, the political state in Egypt and the specific danger for researchers made it very difficult to do so (having researcher friends of mine in prison or held by the police during the time I was conducting this). After a few set-backs (being followed by the police on multiple occasions), I tried to think about how to work more with the materials that I had, rather than the materials I wanted. This project will be a film, that incorporates some of these interviews and the research, along with a weaving together of some of the topics that I wrote about here, but in film. I’m interested in how historical moments (of six days or four years), intersect between the different constitutions of time that shape logistical and historical temporalities. The project looks at the greater history of representing motion within the supply chain, in order to think through stillness not as lost time. [1] Deborah Cowen, The Deadly Life of Logistics: Mapping Violence in Global Trade. (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2014), 126. [2] https://www.collinsdictionary.com/us/dictionary/english/jump-ship [3] https://www.macmillandictionary.com/us/dictionary/american/jump-ship [4] Mary Ann Doane, The Emergence of Cinematic Time: Modernity, Contingency, the Archive. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002), 82. [5] An interview that I conducted (in August 2021), with Mohamed Arrechidi, the representative of the International Transportation Workers Federation who coordinated the relief effort to send Aisha home. [6] Same interview with Arrechidi from the ITF [7] Alberto Toscano and Jeff Kinkle, Cartographies of the Absolute (London: Zero Books, 2015), 347. [8] Interview with residents of Mansheyat El Regoula (4 different groups of people) in August 2021 [9] Interview with journalist’s driver in August 2021 [10] Akinestopia in the Management of Loss, Ash Moniz, MIT Press: Thresholds (2021) (49): 103– 108. [11] Cowen, The Deadly Life of Logistics, 262. [12] Interviews that I conducted with about 20 of the seafarers on board CMA CGM container ship in April 2019 Previous Next
- Events
Program Participant Activities Tonight we invite you to encounter a collective archive of the 2022 What could/should curating do educational programme, which took place in Belgrade and other locations around the Post-Yugoslav region, between September and December this year. The departure point for this archive is a proposal by Biljana Ćirić, program curator and facilitator, to consider the means by which the discussions, events, inquiries and relationships developed during this time might be recorded or documented. Archiving is never neutral. Determinations are always made—by individuals, by collectives, by collecting institutions—about what knowledge is worth saving, the means by which knowledge is indexed, housed and cared for, who has access and on what terms. Within the framework of an alternative educational platform—with a loose and evolving curriculum, and no formalised method of assessment or grading—this exercise presents an opportunity to consider what alternative measures we might allow ourselves for the production of knowledge when freed from institutional modes of transmission and circulation. As such, these archives—both individually and collectively—do not simply record a series of shared (and at times differing) experiences. They include questions around how the embodied, linguistic, political, intimate, relational nature of experience and remembering, ranging in scope from the personal, to the national. Each contribution is informed by the “baggage” we carried with us, as a group of individuals from many different geographic and cultural contexts, many of whom had little relationship with Belgrade, Serbia or the Balkan region prior to this course. This “baggage” includes our different relationships to contemporary art’s infrastructures; our different fields of knowledge and networks of relationships; cultural and linguistic differences; differing relations to histories of colonialism, resource extraction and capitalist exploitation; and varying habits of thought, modes of making, inhabiting and formulating questions about the world. Through differing strategies of presentation and circulation, we hope to open up questions about what we have in common, as well as what separates us; what of ourselves is dispersed, and what is withheld. But the physical “archive” we share with you tonight is only a part of a wider set of relationships, experiences, idea exchanges, occasional encounters, gossip and experimenting. Tonight we celebrate the beauty and fragility of these moments. Be our guests at the two tables. Read silently. Read aloud. Whisper. Describe what you see. Share what you feel. Eat. Drink. Embrace. This archive is staged as something living, developing and transformational, ever evolving as our moments with you. Thank you for sharing this journey with us. We hope it’s not the end, but only a stop on the way. WC/SCD 2022 Adelina, Anastasia, Ginevra, Giuglia, Jelena, Karly, Lera, Sabine, Simon < Educational Program Participants >
- Mentors
Program Participant Activities Tonight we invite you to encounter a collective archive of the 2022 What could/should curating do educational programme, which took place in Belgrade and other locations around the Post-Yugoslav region, between September and December this year. The departure point for this archive is a proposal by Biljana Ćirić, program curator and facilitator, to consider the means by which the discussions, events, inquiries and relationships developed during this time might be recorded or documented. Archiving is never neutral. Determinations are always made—by individuals, by collectives, by collecting institutions—about what knowledge is worth saving, the means by which knowledge is indexed, housed and cared for, who has access and on what terms. Within the framework of an alternative educational platform—with a loose and evolving curriculum, and no formalised method of assessment or grading—this exercise presents an opportunity to consider what alternative measures we might allow ourselves for the production of knowledge when freed from institutional modes of transmission and circulation. As such, these archives—both individually and collectively—do not simply record a series of shared (and at times differing) experiences. They include questions around how the embodied, linguistic, political, intimate, relational nature of experience and remembering, ranging in scope from the personal, to the national. Each contribution is informed by the “baggage” we carried with us, as a group of individuals from many different geographic and cultural contexts, many of whom had little relationship with Belgrade, Serbia or the Balkan region prior to this course. This “baggage” includes our different relationships to contemporary art’s infrastructures; our different fields of knowledge and networks of relationships; cultural and linguistic differences; differing relations to histories of colonialism, resource extraction and capitalist exploitation; and varying habits of thought, modes of making, inhabiting and formulating questions about the world. Through differing strategies of presentation and circulation, we hope to open up questions about what we have in common, as well as what separates us; what of ourselves is dispersed, and what is withheld. But the physical “archive” we share with you tonight is only a part of a wider set of relationships, experiences, idea exchanges, occasional encounters, gossip and experimenting. Tonight we celebrate the beauty and fragility of these moments. Be our guests at the two tables. Read silently. Read aloud. Whisper. Describe what you see. Share what you feel. Eat. Drink. Embrace. This archive is staged as something living, developing and transformational, ever evolving as our moments with you. Thank you for sharing this journey with us. We hope it’s not the end, but only a stop on the way. WC/SCD 2022 Adelina, Anastasia, Ginevra, Giuglia, Jelena, Karly, Lera, Sabine, Simon < Educational Program Participants >
- About
About Lecture Series Participant Activities About educational program Introduction of program 2018-2022 Due to the lack of formal education related to curatorial and artistic work in the Balkan region (while in the former West there has been a proliferation of MA and PhD programmes in curating and artistic research), WCSCD was initiated with the goal of fostering the new generation of curators and artists as well as to raise awareness of the importance of curatorial and artistic knowledge and positions when thinking of art institutions and their role within the larger social context. The intention is to bring together key international and local figures engaged in decolonizing curatorial and artistic discourse, who are specifically able to offer diverse knowledges to the program participants. Through the program, we invite mentors from non-western contexts, local practitioners and also colleagues from the former West. In the last three years our participants were young practitioners from different parts of the world including the Balkans, EU, Asia, Central Asia, Russia, Australia, New Zealand, Latin America making it a unique program in Europe. Due to very limited funding structures for the arts within Serbia, funding of the program was dependent on the support of cultural institutions. The program has also charged a participation fee in line with the monthly salary of the country from which the participants is a passport holder. This was an attempt to generate more equal access to participation for everyone who applied. We also offer special grants for colleagues in need and in 2022 we have granted program access to the colleagues from Russia. Furthermore, in collaboration with Kadist Foundation in 2022 we have enable grant for practitioners from the region in order to participate in the program. The program is intensive, with daily programs of workshops, writing sessions, studio visits, and research trips in the region. Some of the research trips we have done so far include: Kosovo, Bosnia, Romania, Slovenia and Austria. Every year the program would accept up to 15 participants. Besides closed-door workshops for participants, all invited mentors would present public lectures to the larger cultural sector, sharing their ways of working and instituting. From 2023 educational program will be biennial and spread across two years in order to facilitate deeper and longer research of program participants. < Mentors Educational Program Menu >
- Alumni 2019
Alumni 2022 2021 2020 2019 2018 2019 Alumni Aigerim Kapar is an independent curator, cultural activist, and founder of the creative communication platform Artcom. She was born in 1987 in Kazakhstan and continues to live and work in Astana. Kapar curates and organizes exhibitions, urban art interventions, discussions, lectures, and workshops. To accomplish such wide-ranging initiatives she often collaborates closely with art and educational institutions, as well as scientific apparatuses. In 2015, she founded the open online platform Artcom in conjunction with the local art community. The platform brings together different cultural figures to share experiences and discover channels for greater interaction within society in order to develop and promote contemporary art and culture. In 2017, Aigerim initiated the Art Collider informal school—when art meets science. Through this initiative artists and scientists jointly conduct research and present lectures and discussions related to current issues. The results of the school are presented through exhibitions, publications, and audio-visual materials. Ana Roman has a Master’s degree in Human Geography from São Paulo University and is a doctoral student in Art History at the University of Essex. Her current research focuses on contemporary art and curatorship. Previously, she was an assistant curator for Between Construction and Appropriation: Antonio Dias, Geraldo de Barros and Rubens Gerchman in the 60s (SESC Pinheiros, São Paulo, Brazil, 2018), and researcher/assistant curator for Ready Made in Brasil(Centro Cultural Fiesp, São Paulo, Brazil, 2017); Rever_Augusto de Campos (SESC Pompeia, São Paulo, Brazil, 2016); and Lina Grafica (SESC Pompeia, São Paulo , Brazil, 2014), among others. She was the head curator for Whereabouts (Zipper Gallery, 2018) with works by David Almeida; Mirages (Baro Gallery, 2018) with works by Amanda Mei; and Small Formats (Baro Gallery, 2018) with works by Alexandre Wagner, to name a few. She also writes critical texts for different media outlets. Since 2014, she has been a participant in Sem Titulo, s.d., a production and research collective focused on contemporary art with whom she organized the exhibitions What is not performance? (Centro Universitário Maria Antonia, São Paulo, Brazil, 2015) and Tuiuiu, with works by Alice Shintani (ABER, São Paulo, Brazil, 2017). Bermet Borubaeva is a curator, researcher, and artist. She was born in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, and gained her Bachelor of Arts in Political Science, and Master’s of Arts focusing on “Political analysis and public policy,” from the High School of Economics in Moscow. She graduated from the Bishkek “Art East” School of Contemporary Art in 2009 and studied at First Moscow Curatorial Summer School for their program “Doing Exhibitions Politically,” initiated by Victor Miziano and V-A-C Foundation. Borubaeva also participated in the curatorial research residency “ReDirecting East” at the Centre for Contemporary Art Ujazdowski Castle, Warsaw. Borubaeva has also taken part in different exhibitions and projects, such as the First Youth Central Asian exhibition of Contemporary Art, ON/OFF; the eco-festival, Trash; and an exchange project in collaboration with Focus-Art Association, titled TET A TET #2 (Vevey, Switzerland). Recent projects include the Education Program for Lingua Franca/франк тили’, the re-exhibition project for the Central Asia Pavilion at the 54th Venice Biennale, done in collaboration with Oxana Kapishnikova and Ukhina Diana (2012); the exhibitions Artists-in-Residence at CCI Fabrika (2014–2016 Moscow); the exhibition PAS DE DEUX—KG. CH. at the Center of Contemporary Art Yverdon-Les-Bains, Switzerland; and the performance Café “Non-seller,” addressing the problem of food waste in conjunction with the documentary film “Eco Cup” (Moscow), as part of the Curatorial Research Program, CPR-2017: Mexico. She has also contributed to several publications in the fields of art, political science, and urban environment. Ewa Borysiewicz studied art history at the University of Warsaw and Freie Universität Berlin. She was a member of the curatorial team for Side by Side: Poland—Germany. A 1000 Years of Art and History (Martin-Gropius-Bau, Berlin), led by Anda Rottenberg. She is the author of Rausz kinetyczny (2013), a book exploring the political and emancipatory aspects of non-camera animation. From 2012–2019, she worked at the Adam Mickiewicz Institute in Warsaw as the curator for visual arts. Her duties included establishing international partnerships, programming the international visitors’ program, facilitating artistic residencies, and enabling presentations of Polish art worldwide. She is presently co-organizing (with galleries Stereo and Wschód) the exhibition Friend of a Friend, a gallery-share initiative in Warsaw that has been taking place since 2018. Borysiewicz has also curated and co-curated exhibitions at the Zachęta National Gallery of Art in Warsaw, the Polish Institute in Düsseldorf, and the Museum Jerke in Recklinghausen. She is the author of many texts and catalogue entries. Mateja Smic is a Dublin-based artist working with coffee, gelatin and other, often non-traditional materials, chosen by principles of association within her subject matter. Her recent subjects range from geopolitics to national identity. Through printmaking, digital collage, video and animation, Smic’s installations combine philosophical and psychological questions around experience, the phenomenon of Othering, and tensions between the real subject and its mediated representations. Consisting of intensive cycles and processes of intuitive and experimental engagement with her materials, which become a metaphor for an intangible subject, Smic’s reflexive and multi-layered art practice parallels with her contextual research and writing. Having graduated from the National College of Art and Design in Fine Print and Critical Cultures, her thesis and professional practice project focused on the creation of the image of the Balkans in the West and the portrayal of the region through various art forms and curatorial activities. Tomek Pawlowski is a curator, and events and meeting producer. In 2018 he participated in the curatorial program at Swimming Pool, Sofia. He is the curator of numerous exhibitions, performances, and projects in collaboration with artists from younger generations, groups, independent galleries, and institutions in Poland. He uses collective practices, critical entertainment, and politics of friendship as his main guiding framework. From 2016–2018 he ran Cycle, a program of micro-residencies and events in the apartments where he lived. In 2017 co-curated (along with Romuald Demidenko and Aurelia Nowak) The Open Triennial: the 8th Young Triennial at the Center for Polish Sculpture in Orońsko. He is also the co-curator (with Magdalena Adameczek and Ola Polerowicz) of Sandra Art Gallery, the nomadic agency associating with and supporting emerging female artists from Poznań. He currently resides between Białystok and Poznań. Shasta Stevic is an artist and curator from Melbourne, Australia. She is the co-founder, co-curator, and creative director of IntraLiminal—an ongoing project that showcases the work of talented young artists from regional Australia. She is passionate about providing opportunities for young artists to share their work publicly and supporting the development of ongoing creative practices in younger generations. Having completed degrees in science and law, she sees art as an important vehicle for the exploration of social issues including the environment and sustainability, civilization and progress, so-called technological and scientific advancement, and the worrying divide between humans and nature. She is particularly interested in using unconventional methods of storytelling and installation to bring about social change. Stevic has studied at the LungA School, an experimental art school in Seydisfjordur, Iceland, and has curated exhibitions for a mid-winter festival in Northern Iceland. Sasha Puchkova is an artist and curator based in Moscow. As an artist, Puchkova works with different media: sound, video, objects, performative communication and experiments. She explores phenomena related to different points of connection and the linking of digital and offline processes, as well as the space between these realms, and the interdependent influence of cyberspace on social norms. Key topics are particular interest to her are the plasticity of the laws of the digital system; the body in online space; new materialism; artificial synesthesia; decolonial pathways; post-cyberfeminist practices; and post-anthropocene practices. The pivot of her curatorial practice revolves around an experimental, expositional approach, which has been realized in such projects as a series of performative actions, ideas around the “exhibition as living space,” long-term laboratories, and the development of theatrical exhibitions-in-real-time, among other things. Her curated projects include Syntax (a series of performances and laboratory); (Im)-possible object (research and exhibition projects); and Capture Map (performative project and communication platform). Puchkova is also a member of the research group “Speculative Practices of Corporal Mutations” (with Katya Pislari and Daria Yuriychuk). Victoria Vargas Downing is a Chilean art historian, heritage researcher and independent curator based Leeds in the UK. She holds a BA in Fine Theory and History of Art at the University of Chile, a Curating Diploma and MA in Arts Management and Heritages studies at Leeds University. Has participated in art projects in Chile, Sao Paulo, Los Angeles CA, Vienna and The UK where she co-curated Imtiaz Dharker Exhibition and participated in the process and management of Chilean Mural restoration at the Leeds Students Union. She has worked as teacher and research assistant in different projects and art organisations in Chile (museums, galleries and non-profit organisations). She is PhD candidate at the School of Fine Art, History of Art and Cultural Studies at Leeds University. Her research verse on the relationship between contemporary art and heritage, particularly, in non-Western cultures. Seda Yıldız is a Hamburg-based artist-curator. Her multidisciplinary practice focuses on exploring the art of shaping (collective) memory, language, and the politics of the city. She is interested in the poetics of politics and frequently uses humor and abstraction as a tool in her artistic practice, working primarily with video, text, installation, and the form of the artist book. Her curatorial practice focuses on exploring the clash and intersection between the local and global, and aims to reach a heterogeneous audience while giving voice to the silenced. She is particularly is interested to take part in process-oriented, open and experimental projects that foster collaboration and exchange. Yıldız has exhibited her work and joined various editorial and curatorial projects internationally. In 2018, she was selected as an emerging curator by PARALLEL Photo Platform, co-funded by the Creative Europe Program of the European Union. Occasionally she writes about design, architecture, and urbanism, and contributed to Brownbook Magazine, MONU Magazine, Kajet Journal, and Freunde von Freunden. Yıldız holds an MA in Contemporary Artistic Practices from Haute école d’art et de design Geneva (2014) and a BA in Communication and Design from Bilkent University (2011). http://yildizseda.com Zulfikar Filandra is a film and theatre-maker based in Sarajevo. Filandra was educated at Griffith College Dublin, the Academy of Performing Arts Sarajevo, and the Faculty of Electrical Engineering Sarajevo. As a collaborator and member of several local and several international art collectives, he has worked with all the relevant mainstream art and cultural institutions in Sarajevo and is also active in Sarajevo’s underground art scene. Aside from directing in film and theatre, and assistant directing, Filandra also works as a screenwriter, lecturer, producer, editor, musician, actor, promoter, event organizer, and photographer. As a member of the youngest generation of Bosnian directors his topics touch on the legacy of war in Bosnia, but through a more intimate view of living in contemporary times and the position of a small culture like Bosnia in a globalizing world. Currently, he is actively collaborating with the Experimental Film Society (based in Dublin, Ireland) and Outline (based in Amsterdam, Netherlands). Filandra completed two short films in 2018 and is currently working on two more short films, while also developing his first feature project, titled Shipbuilding. At the moment, Filandra is in the process of founding and starting the first full-time artist-in-residence program in Sarajevo. Martina Yordanova is a curator, writer, and researcher based in Sofia, Bulgaria. She graduated from the University of Vienna in Publicity and Communication Sciences in 2014. She went on to do her postgraduate studies in Cultural Management and Curatorial Practices at different European educational institutions, including the University of Arts Berlin, Goldsmiths University, Institute for Cultural Concepts Vienna, and The Cultural Academy in Salzburg. Currently, she works in Sofia where in 2016, together with architects Galya Krumova and exhibition designer Petya Krumova, she established a non-profit foundation for contemporary art and media. Since then, Yordanova has been initiating different art events and exhibitions with international and Bulgarian artists, mostly living abroad. She is also the founder and curator of “1m2 of Art”—a project based in Veliko Tarnovo wherein every month a different artist from the local art scene presents their work in a space no bigger than its name. < Participants Educational Program Programs >
- Behind Ethiopia’s Civil War: From Guerrilla to Secessionist | WCSCD
< Back Behind Ethiopia’s Civil War: From Guerrilla to Secessionist 25 Dec 2020 Berhanu The state formation through the alliance of ethnicity-based parties since 1991 is fragile. The simmering ethno-nationalism within Ethiopia has become clear and leads to the faltering of Ethiopian politics this year. Tigray region of Ethiopia. source: made from google map. On November 4, which coincided with the polling day of the US general election, the 2019 Nobel Peace Prize winner and Ethiopian Prime Minister, Abiy Ahmed, announced on Facebook that the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) attacked the Northern Command of Ethiopian Defense Force stationed in Mekele, the capital city of Tigray kilil (region). Merkley airport was immediately bombed by the Ethiopian federal army as punishment. Within a few days, the confrontation between the federal government and TPLF escalated rapidly. On November 7, U.N. Secretary-General Gutierrez spoke with Abiy and asked the Sudanese Prime Minister, who holds the rotating presidency of the International Development Organization (IGAD), and the African Union to intervene in negotiations between the warring parties. However, Abiy tweeted on the 9th saying: “Concerns that Ethiopia will descend into chaos are unfounded and a result of not understanding our context deeply. Our rule of law enforcement operation, as a sovereign state with the capacity to manage its own internal affairs, will wrap up soon by ending the prevailing impunity.” Getachew Reda, an adviser to the president of Tigray state and a key member of the DPA, took a back-and-forth, tweeting that Abiy was a poor soldier and had started the war first, and that Tigray was merely acting self-defensively. Subsequently, traffic in Tigray was cut off by the TPLF, outward communications were cut off by the federal Government, commercial banks were closed, and the Government of Ethiopia took control of all social media. From the outside, the two sides are almost fighting in a huge black box, with little contradictory news only managing to make it out. According to a report by Amnesty International on November 12, the Ethiopian National Defense Forces (NDF) and Amharic Special Forces attacked the People’s Front in Lugdi on the Sudan-Ethiop border on November 9. On the night of the 9th, hundreds of people were found dead with machete wounds near the Ethiopian Commercial Bank, close to the center of Mai-Kadra town and on the road leading to Himora on the northern border, most of whom were said to be Amharans who came here to work. The survivors identified the perpetrators as the police and the armed forces of Tigray State, but Debretsion Gebremichael, the acting governor and chairman of Tigray State, denounced these accusations. On November 10, Federal Government Spokesperson, Redwan Hussein, announced that the NDF had retaken Mekele’s Northern Command. On the 13th, Abiy changed his generals and the ministers of federal intelligence, security, and police, amongst other departments. Mulu Nega was appointed as the chief executive of the interim government of Tigray State. Tigray State thus entered a situation where two heads coexisted. At 10 o’clock in the evening on the 13th, the Amhara State in the southern part of Tigray State was attacked by an air raid. The local residents said that the gunfire lasted 15 minutes. The fighting has intensified, apparently beyond PM Abiy’s initial call of “an issue of law and order”, to the regional crisis in East Africa. At least 25,000 refugees have fled Tigray state and poured into neighbouring Sudan. The UNHCR has urged neighbouring countries to open their borders to facilitate people fleeing and has asked Ethiopian authorities to allow international aid agencies to enter the country to help an approximately 100,000 displaced people in Tigray state. On the 14th, the NDF claimed to have moved south of Tigray towards Mekele, taking control of several towns along the road, with the spokesman saying the rebellion would end quickly, and the head of the TPLF would be punished. However, on the same day, TPLF warned its northern neighbour Eritrea not to go to war and fired at least three rockets at the airport in Asmara, the Eritrean capital, hours later. It is just one year after PM Abiy Ahmed won the Nobel Prize for ending the two-decade confrontation between Ethiopia and Eritrea – so how did a war break out? Is this war, as Abiy claimed, a military operation to maintain the rule of law? Or was it the starting point of a melee in East Africa? Why did the TPLF, once the core of the Ethiopian ruling coalition ERPDF, recede to northern Ethiopia in only five years after Prime Minister Abiy took office? TPLF: From Hoxhaism Guerrilla to the ruling party Without reviewing the rise and fall of TPLF, one would not be able understand its historical memory and current position. Dr Aregawi Berhe, one of the founders and the early military commander of TPLF, has by far the most in-depth and critical accounts in this regard. In 1974, Major Mengistu Haile Mariam staged a coup in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, toppling Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie I and establishing a military junta, DERGUE, which then sided with the Soviet Union. But there were rebel groups in the north, one of which was TPLF. It was from the 1970s to 1991 that the TPLF was transformed from a national liberation organization in a remote area, into the heart of Ethiopia’s ruling party: the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF). From a military point of view, the rise of the TPLF was quite unexpected. In 1978, after DERGUE had cleared the eastern Somali rebellion, it sent troops northward and planned to quell two rebel groups: the TPLF in Tigray and the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) in today’s Eritrea. In March 1988, with one of the largest military forces in Africa, the DERGUE was defeated in Eritrea’s Af-abet in just 48 hours by TPLF and EPLF. Next, the TPLF launched the Shire-Enda Selassie campaign in the mountains of the central state of Tigray. In April 1988, DERGUE regrouped its forces in Mekele. TPLF fought back in rapid movements, eliminating small groups of enemy forces and occupying commanding heights to cut off the enemy’s links with their base battalions, before then regrouping and annihilating the enemy. In early 1989, having had seen the dawn of victory, TPLF formed the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front in coalition with other national movements. In April 1990, negotiations coordinated by Italy broke down because Meles Zenawi, the leader of TPLF/EPRDF, felt that the opposition was on the verge of collapse. On 19 February 1991, Major Mengistu began his exile and the DERGUE faltered. In April, EPRDF entered Addis Ababa, the capital city, signaling the start of its three-decade rule of Ethiopia. What’s behind TPLF’s military achievement is its capacity to mobilize, which is inextricable to the Marxism-Leninism that emerged in Africa in the 1960s and 1970s. Ideologically, TPLF follows Hoxhaism, holding that both the Post-Stalin Soviet Union and Mao Zedong’s China were revisionist, and that only Enver Hoxha and the Albania he led were the true socialists. But such hair-splitting divergence could have [also] been the work of ethnic boundary making. The mode of mobilization, as Aregawi Berhe argues, was also highly dependent on Tigray nationalism, which ultimately sowed the seeds of separatism in the process of nation-building later on. As early as the 1970s, in the Haile Selassie I University (now Addis Ababa University) established by the last Emperor of Ethiopia for the cause of modernization, a group of students from the Tigray region in their early 20s formed the Tigray National Organization (TNO) – the predecessor of the TPLF. Back then, the Ethiopian monarchy was already in crisis. In the context of the African independence movement, Marxist-Leninist classics were widely circulated among young students. The Marxist revelation that the imperialist oppression was the reason behind the poverty and backwardness of third-world nations, as well as the victories of the socialist revolution and developments in socialist countries, attracted young students. Indeed, Tigray has suffered multiple hardships in modern history. This area is the origin of Ethiopian civilization. Historically, elevated plateaus with rivers cutting deep among them were geographically apt for rule by scattered feudal lords. In modern times, Tigray became war-trodden, not only because of the War of the Princes (1769-1885), but also because European colonists needed to enter Ethiopia from here. It was with Lord Kasa Mercha’s permission that the British Napier Expedition was able to pass Tigray and defeat Emperor Tewodros II. Kasa Mercha was later crowned as Yohannes IV. In 1889, he was seriously wounded in battle by Mahandist Sudanese, passing the throne to Menilik II, the powerful leader of Addis Ababa. This marked the shift of power of Abyssinia from the Tigrays to the Amharas. After WWII, Emperor Haile Selassie I strengthened centrality and appointed officials to replace the old nobles in the Tigray region. But heavy taxes imposed on local governments by these officials, coupled with corruption, provoked the revolution of Tigranian farmers. Many wars have caused the people’s livelihood in this area to decline. Bandits prevailed in Tigray. Those who went out for a living were often looked down upon by locals. In general, Tigray people had little liking towards the colonists and Ethiopian emperors. In the 1970s, students who fell under the influence of Marxism returned to their hometowns from Addis Ababa, setting out to transform the traditional rural society in Tigray while resisting DERGUE, whose rule was even worse than Emperor Selassie. Under the leadership of the legendary Gessesew Ayele (Sihul) – who had participated in the opposition to Emperor Haile Selassie in the 1940s and served in the DERGUE government – these students intended to follow China’s revolutionary path from their armed resistance in the countryside, before eventually engulfing the cities. It was with this intention that they went to Shire, Ayele’s hometown in the central mountainous area. The students’ organization, Tigray National Organization (TNO), was revamped as TPLF, claiming itself as the “Second Revolution” (Kalai Woyyane) to invoke the history of [the] “first revolution” of 1943, which pursued national self-determination from imperial oppression. In the beginning, farmers simply regarded these young men as educated yet unsophisticated radicals. However, TPLF went on to effectively reform the traditional Tigray society, and under the guidance of its ally, Eritrea People’s Liberation Front (EPLF, when Eritrea was still part of Ethiopia), consciously recruited farmers to participate in its armed struggle. These reforms include the following four aspects: the establishment of farmers’ associations and a people’s assembly to replace traditional rural governance land reform youth and women’s organizations and religion. First, the establishment of farmers’ associations and [the] People’s Assembly to replace traditional rural governance by the village elderly (shimagile). In the beginning, TPLF members went to churches, funerals, markets, and neighborhood meetings to explain the goals of the revolutionary movement, encouraging farmers to join the peasant associations and prepare for land reform. Nevertheless, the elderly approved of TPLF’s conduct and discipline, but cautioned their sons and daughters against its propaganda. In response, TPLF resorted to national sentiments, presenting itself as the “sons and daughters of Tigray” to legitimize their roots and exclude other competing fronts in Tigray. It also managed to achieve consensus among the people through the apparatus of cadres ( kifli hizbi ) and meetings ( gämgams ). In the propaganda meetings convened by the cadres, differing opinions were eliminated under group pressure, thereby strengthening their internal cohesion. Under collective pressure, many people who were sympathetic to the forces outside of TPLF were required to show loyalty through “self-criticism” or else silence themselves. Through this, the TPLF turned all farmers into members of [the] farmer’s association. Second, the implementation of land reform. Traditionally, the land was divided into risti land (inherited from the previous generation), the communal deisaa land (which was redistributed every seven years to immigrants and new couples), and the gulti land (allocated by emperors to officials, lords, and churches. This included himsho land (or “rim” land) owned by the parish, with 20% of its farm produce used in the services of parish priests and laymen). On the eve of the revolution, it was estimated that 25% of farmers had little to no land, 45% of farmers had less than 1 hectare, 23% owned between ½ – 1 hectare, and 21% owned 1 – 2 hectares (Tekeste Agazi 1983). The purpose of TPLF, then, was to crush the highly disproportionate land system. At the same time, the socialist DERGUE was also promoting land reform through abandoning guiti lands. However, it did not consider the working class, craftsmen, and small businessmen in the city. TPLF took the lead to divide land among these groups, consolidating its political base both in the city and the countryside. Third, youth and women’s organizations. In order to arm rural youth, TPLF raised the age of marriage to 26 for men and to 22 for women through the decision of baitos , the transformed people’s assembly. In traditional agricultural societies, only married couples could obtain land as their means of production. As a result of the postponement of marriage, young people were delayed access to land ownership but were freed from obligations to land and family. TPLF then organized the youth, who participated in logistics and other activities, becoming reserves of the armed struggle. Cadres trained the youth to shout, “I want to fight for Tigray!” “I’m going to join the TPLF army!” Young people who were reluctant to join the army were seen as “opportunists” and consequently marginalized. In the meantime, TPLF also trained radio station staff and barefoot doctors who had international aid and financial resources provided by the Tigrainian diaspora. It closed state schools in towns and cities and set up its own schools to mobilize more of the youth. In addition, TPLF male fighters were known for their monkish behavior to abstain from sex. TPLF criminalized sexual violence and even imposed the death penalty to discipline its army. This won the approval of local husbands and fathers, who were rest assured when their wives and daughters were encouraged by female TPLF fighters to join the army. As a result, approximately one third of the TPLF fighters were women. Fourth, the use of religion. Ethiopia traditionally has a strong religious atmosphere. The Tewahedo Orthodox Church, on the one hand had close ties with the community and the family, but on the other hand supported the imperial power. TPLF strategically supported DERGUE’s policy of confiscating gulti land, but it permitted the parish land system without damaging the church’s grassroots economic base. The TPLF also placed religious and social activities under the control of the People’s Assembly ( baitos ). They severed ties between the Tigranian Church and the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, and at the same time showed tolerance for Muslims as a minority group. Participants holding photos of the martyrs in the parade of TPLF 45-year anniversary, which dates back to 18 February 1975 when the armed struggle began in Tigray. Bottom right is the TPLF logo. It has a hammer, a torch, and the national symbol Axum obelisk encircled by the wheat ear of injera, the traditional crop of Ethiopia. Source: www.Tigrayonline.com To an extent, the TPLF borrowed from China [and] Vietnam’s revolutionary experience. They transformed traditional rural society and gained a high degree of control over Tigray through [their] movements. Administratively, the old governance in Tigray’s rural society, baitos , was transformed into the People’s Assembly under the leadership of TPLF. The People’s Revolutionary Assembly had armed forces at a national level, and the families of cadres and fighters were taken care by the village. The legal power was shared by the elderly ( shimagle ) and cadres – but the cadres, elevated as “torchbearers of the revolution”, often had the decision-making power. In this way, TPLF successfully mobilized the society of Tigray and became the sole spokesperson for the Tigray people. This is what Dr Aregawi Berhe calls the “mobilization hegemony” with a nationalist predilection. Separatism in the 1994 Ethiopian Constitution When overthrowing the once powerful Military Junta became imminent, the TPLF found itself standing at a historical crossroad for establishing a transitional government. In 1989, before entering Addis Ababa, the TPLF formed the ruling coalition EPRDF (Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front) and in 1991, the EPRDF began to draft the new constitution for the liberated Ethiopia. However, these two milestones bore the markings of separatism once they were laid out by TPLF and its allies. EPRDF is composed of four major national political groups: the TPLF, ADP (Amhara Democratic Party, formerly known as ANDM, Amhara National Democratic Movement), OPDO (Oromo People’s Democratic Organization), and SEPDM (Southern Ethiopian’s People’s Democratic Movements). Although the establishment of the EPRDF created an image of Ethiopian solidarity, for the TPLF, it was also the solution to two emerging challenges. Firstly, as a political group that only accounts for 6% of the population of Ethiopia, the Tigranians had to unite with other national forces. Secondly, they had to formally meet demands from the West to achieve democracy (at the time, the U.S. Assistant Secretary of State, Herman Cohen, warned that TPLF had “no democracy, no cooperation.”). The unification of the political forces in Ethiopia through the party apparatus seemed beneficial for the TPLF, who chose to collaborate with like-minded political organizations. The ANDM, an ally of the TPLF, was considered to merely be the “Amhara mouthpiece” of the EPRDF, while the OPDO, composed of political prisoners released by the EPRDF, was seen as its “Oromo mouthpiece”. Given the earlier fall of the communist junta, the United States was willing to accept an authoritative government. In July 1991, under the diplomatic coordination of the United States, TPLF/ EPRDF held the “Peace and Democracy Transitional Conference of Ethiopia” in Addis Ababa and invited representatives of 27 national movement organizations to participate (Aregawi 2008: 335). Of the 27 organizations, 19 were based on ethnic politics, 5 on national political organizations, and the remaining 3 were civic or professional groups. The draft of the constitution discussed in the transitional meeting was prepared by the TPLF and the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF), who also dominated the negotiating table alongside heavy involvement from the EPLF (according to OLF), who were preparing for the Eritrea transitional government. Being the product of ethnic oppression in the past, these three parties naturally took the option of secession into account. Notably, the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Party (EPRP) and the All-Ethiopian Socialist Movement (MEISON) were not invited to this meeting. In the absence of these organizations, who would advocate for a pan-Ethiopia unity, the participants could easily reach an agreement for the Eritrean Transitional Government (led by the EPLF) to conduct a referendum for secession from Ethiopia in three years. Some participating organizations, such as the ENDO (Ethiopian National Democratic Organization), initiated discussions on the separation of ethnic groups and the separation of Eritrea, but the representatives of the EPRDF believed that these reservations would damage the foundation of the constitution. In the end, the provisional Ethiopian Constitution stipulates that the regional assembly shall be based on the nation and that “every Nation, Nationality and People in Ethiopia has an unconditional right to self-determination, including the right to secession.” (article 39.1). Moreover, the EPRDF only recognizes the individual ethnic identity of citizens, and not the dual or multiple ethnic identities that were a result of historical integration. This is the design of the national federalism currently implemented in Ethiopia. The Ethiopian Parliament which was consequently established composed of 27 ethnic organization representatives, who would form the Council of Representatives. It is a legislative body with a total of 87 seats: 32 of which belong to the EPRDF, with the remaining 55 seats belonging to 23 non-EPRDF organizations. As the highest administrative body, the Council of Ministers is headed by Meles Zenawi. As the president of the transitional government, he appointed 17 of the cabinet ministers, most of whom were held by candidates from the TPLF and the OLF. In just a few years, Meles Zenawi controlled the power of the state through the coalition of political parties. In the meantime, the ethnic and national political parties in Ethiopia rapidly increased. Today, of the 81 political parties registered in the Federation of Ethiopia, 73 are based on ethnicities. Since ethnic politics has been legitimized, some leaders of ethnic political groups often antagonize ethnical sentiments to strengthen their power, further worsening the state of Ethiopian politics. A war between secessionists and Ethiopianists? Ethiopia has long been a country with a low level of development. However, after Meles Zenawi came to power, especially since 2005, the average annual GDP growth of >10% attracted the world’s attention, while foreign direct investment (FDI) also increased significantly during this period. Economically, Meles Zenawi pursued an authoritarian mode in developing the country, prioritizing industrial and infrastructural investments, and establishing several industrial parks in different regions. Nonetheless, such modes of development are not without precedents. The successful trajectory of East Asian economies (such as China, Taiwan, South Korea, etc.) since the 1980s became a model to emulate for some African countries, especially when IMF’s structural adjustment failed in many African countries. Nevertheless, the Tigrainians, thanks to their ethnicity and connections with the ruling party, are widely believed to hold a monopoly on Ethiopia’s economic power and accumulative wealth. The growing civil discontent towards political and economic inequality, and democratization on an ethnic basis, has brought imminent risks both to state failure within Ethiopia and the decline of TPLF. The first serious indicator was as early as 1992 when OLF, the party who co-drafted the constitution with TPLF, withdrew from the Ethiopian government because it was marginalized by the ally of the EPRDF, the Oromo People’s Democratic Organization (OPDO). The Oromo people account for 40% of the Ethiopian population, and the split within Oromo is further complicated by its diaspora in the Gulf countries and the United States. After 2016, the problem of land acquisition in the Oromo region, especially in the development around Addis Ababa, triggered political protests against the EPRDF/TPLF, bringing the country into state of emergency on many occasions. Other emerging democratic voices were silenced by the ruling coalition, owing to its authoritarian nature. In the 2005 Ethiopian general election, the Coalition for Unity and Democracy (CUD) claimed to have won 49% of the votes, outnumbering the 34% held by the EPRDF. However, it was suppressed by EPRDF, and the leader of the CUD was placed under house arrest. CUD’s party guidelines have already pointed out that the primary task of contemporary Ethiopia’s development is to achieve national reconciliation. The sudden death of Meles Zenawi in 2012 left a power vacuum in Ethiopia, which is a common problem with all authoritarian governments. In 2018, the successive prime minister, Hailemariam Desalegn, believed to be a puppet of TPLF, resigned because the country once again fell into a state of emergency caused by intensified ethnic conflicts. According to election procedures, the four major parties will elect the chairman of EPRDF, who will also become the next prime minister. Lemma Megers, the chairman of OPDO at the time, was unable to serve as prime minister because he was not a member of the parliament, so an emergency meeting was held to elect the next candidate within the party, Abiy Ahmed, as chairman. This crucial step successfully catapulted Abiy to the supreme position he now holds in Ethiopia. Dr Abiy Ahamed was born in 1976. He joined the army led by TPLF where he learned Tigrinya as a teenager and served for many years in the army’s security intelligence department. In the 2010s, he was appointed as director of the Urban Development Planning Department of Oromia. Thanks to his peace-making talents, Abiy solved many land and religious disputes, and established a bridge of communication between the Oromo and Amhara peoples. The two ethnic groups alone account for 2/3 of the total population of Ethiopia. Therefore, in addition to his Oromo origin and recognition from the TPLF, Abiy became ideal for the unification of the major nations and parties. In the 2018 election, the Amhara leader withdrew at the last minute, paving way for Abiy to become chairman of the EDPRF and subsequently, Prime Minister of Ethiopia. After taking office, however, Abiy steered Ethiopia towards market liberalism – a stark contrast from the policies EDPRF had adopted. Previously, although the Ethiopian government attached great importance to the introduction of foreign capital, their domestic retail, logistics, and financial industries had not been opened to such. Meles Zenawi even rejected the IMF’s request to open up banking arrangements. In contrast, Abiy plans to privatize state-owned enterprises in the communication, sugar, energy, and aviation industries; and liquidate the party assets controlled by TPLF. In this process, the Metal Engineering Group (METEC), Ethiopia’s largest military industrial complex, collapsed. METEC was established in 2010 to undertake the construction of the Renaissance Dam and the sugar factory on the Blue Nile in Ethiopia, both of which are national megaprojects. In June 2018, the parliamentary committee found that the company’s US$330 million machinery and equipment had no marketvalue, and the US$3 billion sugar plant project failed to reach completion (Ethiopia’s GDP in 2018 was about 84.4 billion USD). Abiy’s administration soon terminated METEC’s contract for the Renaissance Dam and Sugar Factory, and had their CEO, Kinfe Dagnew, who was about to flee Sudan, escorted back to Ethiopia for trial. In 2018, Abiy dissolved EDPRF and established the new Prosperity Party, underscoring a new narrative of harmony and Ethiopian unity. TPLF was among the dissidents against the Prosperity party, but its efforts to bring Ethiopia to a “federal coalition” failed in 2020. [1] Having declined in power and without a strongman like Meles Zenawi, the TPLF is said to have split from within, wavering between the option to either to remain in Addis or withdraw to Tigray. In fact, although the TPLF was the initiator of ethnic politics in Ethiopia, as a minority group the Tigray people remain susceptible to antipathy from the Amharic and Oromo people. Nevertheless, the antagonism towards the TPLF and Tigray people is to some extent unjustifiable, a Tigrainian friend told me, because they sacrificed enormously fighting against DERGUE for the sake of a new Ethiopia. When asked about corruption, another Tigrainian businessman said, “as long as you put the corrupted officials in jail, you can move forward for development!” Their adamant positions reveal how history and ideology have shaped the mentality of a proud nation. In recent years, Tigray has become further isolated geopolitically. Tigray is sandwiched between Sudan to its west and Eritrea to its northeast. In 2019, Prime Minister Abiy and Prime Minister Isaias Afevolki of Eritrea reached a settlement on the 20-year border standoff, which provoked discontent between the TPLF and Abiy. At its inception, TPLF had received military assistance from EPLF. The latter even sent a fighter, Mussa, to the TPLF in the early days, who served as the TPLF’s military commander. However, during the joint resistance against the military government, EPLF oscillated between the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Party (EPRP), another political organization in Tigray, and TPLF. From the EPLF’s viewpoint, if it were to support a separatist movement, it would only give Ethiopia an excuse to expand its arms, thereby posing a threat to itself. Only when the DERGUE threatened its own survival would the EPLF tolerate ideological and strategic differences to fight alongside the TPLF (EPLF advocates the socialism of Soviet Union and positional warfare). The Ethiopia-Eritrea war from 1998 to 2000 pushed the two into a heightened confrontation. Eritrea was in a state of emergency for a long time after the war, and semi-openly supported the armed activities of the anti-government OLF in Ethiopia. The reconciliation between Abiy and Eritrea in 2019 included a plan to transfer the disputed Badme region to Eritrea. This olive branch gesture was applauded by the international community and Abiy won the Nobel Peace Prize that year. However, as far as the TPLF is concerned, Abiy’s move was really a deal at the cost of Tigray’s interests. The global pandemic has exacerbated the rival between the federal government and Tigray. Ethiopia was one of the first countries in Africa to take active action against the virus, thanks to its favorable relationship with China and the Secretary-General of the World Health Organization (WHO), Tedros Adhanom, who served in Tigray State and the Ethiopian government. In March 2020, while experts from around the world were still debating the effectiveness of a lockdown, Tigray declared a state emergency, banning travel within the state for 14 days and canceling all social activities. The move was two weeks in advance of the federal declaration of a state of emergency on April 8. It caused debates among constitutionalists, and the move was criticized as illegal by the Prosperity Party. On April 2, Tigray State claimed to have virus detection capabilities, almost at the same time as the Ethiopian Ministry of Health, seemingly aiming for political legitimacy by way of epidemic prevention and control. In September, Tigray State held elections, despite Abiy Ahmed’s announcement that the national election would be postponed due to the pandemic. This open defiance sparked the war between the secessionist TPLF and the federal government. Abiy called the election in Tigray a “shanty election”, for it is illegal to build a house on an illegal foundation, no matter how high it is. Since claiming a domestic and international reputation of maintaining national harmony, and with the support of Eritrea, Prime Minister Abiy now seems to have the upper hand. Framing the war as an internal affair of “law and order” and the military action as “punishment of the criminals” thus serves to diminish the constitutional crisis. A massive campaign harvest to protect possible locust attack in Tigray region in October, just before the war broke out. Source: https://twitter.com/ProfKindeya/status/1318510358915665922 Whether it is an issue of “law and order” as declared by the federal government, or the “civil war” as recognized by the outside world, this conflict has been ongoing for several weeks; meanwhile Ethiopian social media prohibits discussing political and war-related information. From a military standpoint, it is hard to rule out the possibility of prolonged warfare – the length of which would depend on the mobilization capability of TPLF and the position of Tigranian people towards the war. The war seems to have subsided in scale recently, but the antagonizing ethnic groups in Tigray and Ethiopia; and critically, the tens of thousands of displaced men, women, and children to Sudan, are the biggest victims. Part of the points of view in this article are from the doctoral thesis of Aregawi Berhe (2008), “A Political History of the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (1975-1991): Revolt, Ideology and Mobilisation in Ethiopia” and Zhou Jin Yan (2019), “The Experience from Ethiopia – a Democratic Development State as an African Approach”. Culture Review, No. 3. Dr Aregawi Berhe had served as the early military commander of TPLF but was expelled by TPLF in 1986. After over three decades of exile in Europe, he returned to Ethiopia at Abiy’s invitation for the sake of the political reconciliation between parties. Chinese version of this text has been published by Initium Media, Hong Kong in November 2020https:// theinitium.com/ Berhanu is an anthropologist in African Studies. [1] https://borkena.com/2019/08/26/tigray-organized-a-conference-to-save-constitution-and-the-federal-system/ Previous Next