A while ago I received a text message first thing in the morning, when I turned on my mobile. It was a transmission from a Norwegian doctor on location in one of those terrible infernos that humans like to engage in now and then, saying we ALL need to DO SOMETHING! The woman who sent it to me is an actress, and came here from Iran when she was 13 years of age. Her family fled as they were subjected to injustices.
In everyday life, I share my days with a woman who came to Sweden from Kosovo as a refugee, 20 years ago. They were subjected to terrible injustices, fleeing for their lives. As for me I’m a descendant of African American slaves. No, it’s not that far away, my grandmother’s parents were born slaves and I still see in my own safe, Swedish life, traces of my foremothers as background. Need I say injustice?
But all this is history. Could we keep it there, there would be no problem. The problem arises when we are staying with these stories and truly believe that we have the right, duty, reason and obligation to pass them on, in any way possible.
What does this have to do with art? Why write an article on the subject of injustice and art? Because we as producers of cultural expressions tell stories! And we must choose our stories with much more care. What I have to say will disturb many, because I want us to carefully consider which stories we present on our stages, on our canvases, in our books / magazines / blogs, etc., all of which are exposed in our shared public spaces.
When I worked a few years ago at the Malmo Opera, we played Othello for sold out houses. Parallel to our performances there was ballet evenings with Romeo and Juliet on our main stage so I had my mouthful of Shakespeare that season. In a strong scene the two families at war with each other start dragging old corpses onto the stage. All those who died because of hatred between them came thus once more onto the stage, playing an important and morbid role. At the end the dull-lit scene was filled with bodies in white shrouds and I suddenly got one of those in depth insights only cultural experiences can give you, as art go beyond the intellectual mind. We must stop telling these stories!
Since then I often meet resistance from my fellow cultural professionals and others, when I say this. It is as if people, both on and off stage, believe that we are here to talk about injustices, and it is our primary task. That this is the single most important and effective way to make our beautiful planet safer, happier, freer, healthier and more loving.
Well, come on! We have talked about Medea and her likes, of all sexes, shapes and forms for thousands of years. We have defended tragedy with our lives practically, and all the time the same repetitious mantra is heard saying these are eternal stories, universal and necessary to tell. Are they? Has it gotten better? Look closely at how Mother Earth is doing.
Logically everyone should be able to see that things have not significantly moved forward, despite the fact that we consistently have played Shakespeare, Euripides, Verdi and painted thousands of paintings picturing sacrificing saints, war scenes or young people who cut themselves. We have produced novels, sculptures, films, poems, photographs and name it. And still we are running around the same route. But since logic is not our thing, as humans are largely emotionally programmed beings, we act on our internal recordings. (I will not go into how the brain works the first six years of our lives and the consequences of that at this time) All those ideas are only ideas on what’s important and how we can move away from evil, quickest possible and in the most effective manner. They are beliefs that govern our lives and our actions.
These old stories keep us in justification of holding on to our gruesome past. A past so old sometimes that several hundred years have gone by and you have no possible way of knowing what it was really all about, but you have been thought that it is your “birthduty” to hate. You and I have to let go of the idea that it is right to hold on to our old injustices, generation after generation. The idea of the right of my wrongs, the right of my suffering that can never be expiated! The need to never forget! And I say provocatively: FORGET!
As long as all the world’s suffering is to constantly be retold the suffering itself is thriving and there is not much space to tell other stories. Stories to enhance hope, joy, power, love and forgiveness. Not forgiveness in a pretend guise of “the past is past and that’s OK”. Way to many pretend they have forgiven and that does not work at all! But instead in the manner of “It was not okay to drop bombs, to sit in camps, be a slave, and yet I will still go on, powerfully, in love”.
If I do not allow myself to give up on the tragedy of my own life, of the history of my family, my tribe, my people, it will be close to impossible for me to experience the good side of life. The hands clinging to old belongings can’t receive new thing, just as the mind desperately holding on to an old idea can’t open to accept new viewpoints, peace for instance.
To not “let go” is like devouring a cup of poison and expect someone else to die. So anyone out there thinking your hate is more justified than anyone else’s, I can assure you that what you are doing right now is gobbling up a cup of poison and it is you, your children and grandchildren who will pay the price in the long run! Unless you enemies are wiser, but of that there has not been much trace yet, when it comes to conflict. Wisdom, that is.
So I say today as I have said so many times to my girlfriend during the years we have been together, and I had to say it many, many times as she was so filled with anger and sorrow for what happened in Europe’s last war. To use her own language she was too brain washed about the obligation to suffer and nourish hate and fear to hear me, but slowly the insight dawned on her when I was saying: SOMEONE MUST STOP THE HATRED, someone must stop telling these horrific stories, let it be YOU! Only then, when we let go of the glorification of tragedy will we give room for a new kind of story to tell. And only with new stories will peace really be anchored on earth.
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