PHILIP PULLMAN’S HIS DARK MATERIALS TRILOGY TAUGHT ME TO DISTRUST AUTHORITY, AND THAT WE LIVE IN JUST ONE OF MANY POSSIBLE WORLDS ~ Taib Hayat ~ Set in a steampunk-themed alternate universe, the orphan girl Lyra grows up among scholars in a venerable British college. Reformation and Enlightenment never happened in her world, and the Catholic Church is the supreme political authority across Europe. Through her experiences at Jordan College, we see the struggle of academia with censorship and repression. When a new discovery is made—Dust, seemingly the physical basis of conscience, including its creative, subversive, sexual and rebellious aspects—a race begins to either free it or destroy it. In all this, Lyra tries to navigate big politics and morality the way an 11-year-old would: she has an opinion on most things, doesn’t understand some of them, and mainly tries to keep her friends safe. The first book in the series, Northern Lights, won the Carnegie Medal and the Guardian Children’s Fiction Award when it was published in 1995. Most readers took the books as an exciting fantasy-mystery-adventure story for young teens, but still thoughtful, political and subtle for adults. Some Christian fundamentalists, however, were less pleased. “By co-opting Catholic terminology and playing with Judaeo-Christian theological concepts, Pullman is effectively removing, among a mass audience of a highly impressionable age, some of the building blocks for future evangelization,” wrote Leonie Caldecott in the Catholic Herald, “JK Rowling doesn’t do this, for all that she is writing about many of the same themes”. When Philip Pullman read those words, he reportedly felt so flattered that he asked his publisher to include the quote on the cover of his books. But why choose Pullman’s work over global bestseller Harry Potter as a target for criticism? His Dark Materials is, first and foremost, a story about free will—and about people who refuse to be told they can’t think for themselves. Pullman is neither the first nor the last anti-clerical author. But where much of New Atheism understood religion—especially Christianity—as a set of factual claims to be refuted, Pullman showed a deeper understanding of its power. There are witches and angels in Lyra’s world. But witches are basically immortal, independent, powerful women, while the angels form a fascist state across the many worlds of the story. “Original sin” exists, but on a metaphysical level, it’s a necessary step in the development of consciousness and personhood. The afterlife exists, but it’s a prison camp created by angels to prevent the spirits of the dead from rejoining the world. “God” isn’t the creator of the universe—just the first angel, who made everyone believe he created it. When he is revealed for who he is, we see an ancient, senile being and can’t help but pity him. After this revelation, God dies in an accident. We spend time with Baruch and Balthamos, a gay angelic couple. See the subversive pattern? Caldecott is right in her assessment: what Pullman is doing is a far more effective attack on organised religion than simply stating that God doesn’t exist. But it’s also a smarter critique. Most children in the West have at least some familiarity with Christian concepts. Such is the power of religion: stories not everyone believes, not everyone likes—but everyone knows. Part of the reason to play with these elements, even as an atheist, is the realisation that they are, for better or worse, part of Western culture—and, through cultural export and domination, also of global culture to a certain degree. There are different types of atheism, and they reveal a lot about what their proponents think religion is. Many Western atheists don’t realise that theirs is often a Christian denomination of atheism—one that mirrors Christianity even as it negates it. Equating “not religious” with disbelief in angels, a redeeming creator or an afterlife takes Christianity as the model for religion in general. The interesting question for anyone who knows they have an ideology—religious or otherwise—is whether they also know how it echoes what came before it. Some branches of contemporary Marxism openly accept that communism is, in a way, secularised Christianity with explicit political goals, revolution and liberation replacing Judgement Day and paradise. Similarly, Northern Lights is a deeply anti-Christian book, but one that takes Christianity seriously—not just as an enemy, but with a strand of affection. Pullman understands that there is no clear line to be drawn between religion and culture, but also that stories belong to everyone: images everybody knows are powerful tools for telling new stories. I re-read His Dark Materials recently as an adult. Most of the things I’ve described here had completely escaped me as a kid. The Magisterium, the theocratic power centre of Europe in the series, conducts gruesome experiments on children to make them easier to control. Pullman notes in passing that other churches in the South engage in genital mutilation for similar reasons. It’s always easy to sit in Europe and write about how bad things are elsewhere. But universalism means things aren’t excused just because they happen in another culture. Pullman showed great sensitivity by focusing mainly on Christianity as a Western author, but he avoids the trap of cultural relativism—the idea that cultures are monolithic and that ethics are entirely subjective. These are some reasons His Dark Materials still deserves to be read today. Today, large parts of the globe are witnessing a renewed alliance between the far right and religious fundamentalism. To beat them, we mostly need organisation and people—but these people also need education and arguments. The problem is that once people have stable reactionary identities—e.g. as white, Christian, male—and certain political beliefs like nationalism, racism and sexism become part of the self, the space for rational argument shrinks. The political value of Pullman’s books lies in delivering a message through images—telling a very different story with familiar tropes. The point isn’t that gay angels are inherently better than authoritarian straight ones (which they are), but that a story about gay angels works equally well. His Dark Materials taught my 13-year-old self that religion is fascinating, that there is no shortcut to thinking for ourselves, and that our world, too, is magical. It taught me a healthy dose of suspicion towards authority and that we live in only one of an infinite number of possible worlds. That the struggle for freedom of control is not particular to any one time or society, and that the control of the mind begins with control of the body. Kids today will have fun with this excellent read, but it might also help them become witty, warm, and inquisitive people. And maybe—just maybe—it’ll show them a few ways to think critically about religion and power, lessons that are becoming more important again by the day. The post “Northern Lights” at 30 appeared first on Freedom News.

THE CLUMSY ATTEMPT TO SILENCE ARTISTS OPPOSING GENOCIDE ONLY MAKES THEIR MESSAGE LOUDER ~ Stanton Cree ~ Over the last week I found myself in the interesting position of having to navigate the British establishment’s censorship just to listen to a bit of music, watch some TV, and a film. I started my weekend wanting to catch Kneecap‘s Glastonbury set. I had to wait, however, until the BBC uploaded it to iPlayer after caving to government pressure and declining to livestream the group. Having missed Bob Vylan, I then had to search for a recording, as the BBC refused to upload it after an explosion of outrage from politicians and journalists. Next, I had to make time to watch To Kill a War Machine before it will presumably get banned for supporting non-violent direct action terrorism. Finally, I got to watch Gaza: Doctors Under attack on Channel 4 as the BBC, once again, refused to show it. By now I’m sure you’ve realised the thing that connects all this together is Palestine, and the suppression of anyone or anything that draws attention to the ongoing genocide. Enough has been said about the blatant hypocrisy of the garden-variety ‘Free Speech Warrior’ working to silence those speaking out against racism, sexism, homophobia, and genocide. What we are witnessing now, however, are very obvious examples of state censorship—ironic given those in government are always banging on about a ‘Free Speech crisis‘. Given my low opinion and regularly validated distrust of government, state censorship isn’t particularly surprising to me. The BBC has traditionally aligned itself with the imperial status quo, and the Labour party is just as much part of the establishment as the Tories. State intervention to deny artists their rights to expression is unfortunately nothing new either—an ongoing example is the cops’ continued gagging of Grime and Drill artists. What I do find astonishing is how quickly the pretence of state non-interference in the arts has been discarded. Politicians and media have shifted from quietly ignoring censorship to openly endorsing it when it comes to Kneecap and Bob Vylan—who have consequently had shows pulled. What is it that the powers that be find so egregious? Apparently, the idea that genocide is not just wrong but should also be resisted. What’s impressive is the lengths the establishment is going to in order to make such a mundanely moral stance as “stop genocide” seem sinister. The BBC and politicians have rushed to condemn the “antisemitic sentiments” and “hate speech” supposedly expressed by Bob Vylan, but none have bothered to show their work. Exactly what they’re referring to is left to speculation. Desperate to vilify the Vylans, the BBC’s cultural editor went as far as conflating two separate statements made during the set, which seems to be the basis for further erroneous claims that Bob Vylan were “calling for the death of Israeli troops”. But why let a little thing like context get in the way of a juicy story? The Mail on Sunday went even further, entirely inventing a quote to justify their unhinged front page demand for the state repression of musicians. Most of the focus has been on the chant of “death to the IDF”, which has been presented without any context even by supposedly unbiased, centrist, and liberal individuals and publications. International law recognises the legitimate use of force against an occupying army. The claim that the chant somehow calls for death to Israelis (let alone all Jews) makes about as much sense as saying that “death to fascism” was a call to kill all Italians. As for antisemitism—it is a common tactic of propagandists to muddy the waters by conflating the Israeli state with its citizenship or with the Jewish people as a whole. By saying an attack on the Israeli military is an attack on all Jews, they are playing right into the hands of Israeli state propaganda. The evolution of a lie, courtesy of BBC Culture Editor, Katie Razzall Bob Vylan have never hidden what they are about. They are aggressively and unapologetically political, snugly fitting within the traditions of both Punk and Rap. Their songs are typical anti-racist and anti-fascist fare and the combination of anarcho-punk with Grime hits hard and doesn’t leave much room for misunderstanding. Glastonbury’s own website describes their shows as “a cathartic experience where rage and protest meets positivity and joy”. Which begs the question, why pretend they didn’t know what they were getting? Yet now even Glastonbury’s organisers, who have long presented the festival as an open forum for left leaning politics, went from Michael Eavis saying last week that “People that don’t agree with the politics of the event can go somewhere else” to abruptly following establishment voices in distancing themselves from Bob Vylan. An impressive U-turn after their initial support of their line up. With no remarks regarding acts such as Amyl and the Sniffers, Inhaler, CMAT, and of course, Kneecap, it certainly appears to be a response to political pressure. The condemnation of Bob Vylans’s supposed ‘incitement to violence’ stinks of exactly the kind of liberal pearl-clutching addressed in the duo’s 2021 song “Pretty Songs”. As a society we have been conditioned to accept the idea that any grave injustice should be passively resisted and that any kind of physical resistance is morally questionable. The irony of the government condemning moral support for militant action, while it actively actively remilitarises and sells weapons abroad, should not be lost on anyone. Fortunately, the censorship crusade already seems to be backfiring in the most predictable way. The more power used to suppress the message, the louder it gets. Drawing attention to Bob Vylan, along with Kneecap, Palestine Action and others just increases support for them. The clumsy attempts to demonise these groups further exacerbates the growing rupture between the people and the political establishment. There is nothing ethically dubious in stating support for the right of victims to fight those carrying out a genocide. To suggest otherwise clearly favours annihilation. Pacifism is merely a pretty ideal that benefits the elite and those who seek to maintain the status quo. The appeal to pacifism and the presupposition that any and all violence is inherently wrong, strikes to the very heart of this storm in a teacup. Bob Vylan are under no obligation to pander to such sensibilities, and neither are we. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Top photo: Brian J. Matis on Flickr CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 The post Vilifying the Vylans or: How I learned to stop censoring and call for death to the BBC appeared first on Freedom News.

THIS LUCID AND PASSIONATE DOCUMENTARY ABOUT PALESTINE ACTION IS WELL WORTH VIEWING BEFORE STARMER’S “SOCIAL DEMOCRATS” CENSOR IT ~ Rob Ray ~ I can certainly see why the makers of To Kill A War Machine are worried that proscription of the subject of their documentary, Palestine Action (PA), will turn into a ban for them too. The Rainbow Collective have produced one of the most explicitly pro-direct action features I’ve seen in years. Unapologetic in tone, the programme includes interviews with members and supporters, who talk about their motivations, strategies and the ways in which State repression has ramped up since the start of Israel’s campaign of ethnic cleansing in Gaza and the West Bank. PA hardly needs much of an introduction after a week of intense media focus. But in brief, over the last half-decade the non-violent group has carried out a campaign of sabotage against Israeli arms firm Elbit, which operates numerous sites across the UK and is well meshed with Britain’s corporate and political Establishments. Its tactics have been to target not just the property of Elbit itself – making it as expensive as possible to operate in Britain specifically – but to also go down the supply and financing chain, hitting the likes of Barclays for investing in the firm and Arconic for selling it monitor screens.  Produced in a kinetic, glitchy manner which will be familiar to anyone who has watched many activist film productions, To Kill A War Machine flicks between footage of PA activists smashing through windows and rooftops, interviews, slickly dystopian Elbit advertising bragging about its lethality and accuracy, and blurred but nevertheless horrifying footage of the child victims of such “precision.”  Included in the interviewees are several recognisable figures, in particular eloquent takes from Sukaina Rajwani, mother of Filton 18 prisoner Fatema, Shezana Hafiz of Cage International, and Palestine Action founder members Huda Ammori and Richard Barnard.  The analysis and insights provided are well-presented, lucid and passionate, with Rajwani’s deeply admirable fortitude speaking out in what must be extraordinarily stressful circumstances watching her daughter going through the hell of Kafkaesque persecution being particularly worthy of note.   A minor quibble I might have with interviewee Lowkey’s otherwise solid analysis is his focus on how they draw primarily from the Raytheon Nine and suggestion that their iteration is unique, whereas throughout, I was seeing influences from the animal rights movement of the 1990s and 2000s, which might be useful to draw out a bit. The campaign against Huntingdon Life Sciences has strong parallels to Palestine Action’s strategy, particularly “go down the chain, find the weak points”.  They’re also being dealt with in similar ways (with some crucial differences).  In the case of HLS, government repression was more subtle, but used the same playbook – identify, vilify, isolate and shock. Rather than use the wild overkill of anti-terror legislation, in the 2000s Establishment reaction took the form, initially, of information gathering and infiltration by the State, while the media portrayed animal rights activists in the most ghoulish of ways, with the aim of dividing a perceived “extreme” wing of the movement from the cover of broader support.  Legislation was then beefed up, with injunctions being used to physically push legal campaigning away from the gates of the research establishments. Punishments were increased to allow for exemplary sentencing – frighten people off by making it clear political crime in particular was unacceptable, in a way that non-political crime was not. Back in 2015 I interviewed an AR activist from the time about this for Black Flag (p.16-17), who explained: “People had been sent down before, but it became multiple forms of harassment. We’d do a local stall about animal rights and local cops would show up trying to shut us down. They’d stand in front of the stall, intimidating people away. They’d follow activists around, stalk them at demos, anything to isolate us. At government level they changed laws to facilitate crackdowns. Harassment legislation was extended to companies after we challenged the idea in court. In SOCA (section 146-7) they specifically included anti-animal rights rules by banning home demos. That was specifically to stop us from getting shareholders’ addresses and targeting the communities where they lived, which was extremely effective. All the cops who used these laws have moved on now, so they’ve fallen out of use, but these laws are still on the books.” It might seem odd that Starmer, who would be well acquainted with such strategies from his time as a pro-bono movement lawyer in the 2000s, doesn’t simply re-employ them before leaping to terror legislation. Until, of course, you remember that his priority is not to stop a movement, but to outflank his political critics while shoring up his international position. The disastrous effects of proscription on free speech and individual liberty are simple collateral damage in the cause of silencing far-right “two-tier” accusations and brown-nosing the US.   The documentary highlights this procession around 3/4 of the way in, noting the path from an early 2022 meeting between Priti Patel and Elbit (shading into a dodgy inclusion of a rep from the supposedly independent Crown Prosecution Service), through to Labour’s use of arrests for non-violent action under terror legislation and a ghosting of activists within the prison system so thorough that even their lawyers couldn’t reach them. A clear path of private complaint, Establishment mobilisation, and politically-charged escalation towards the moment of outright repression we find ourselves in. The hope in the face of proscription is it might finally break through to the general public that it’s all our rights that are at risk when a political party decides to arbitrarily apply the label of “terrorist” to strictly non-violent forms of dissent. Unlike the bleating of far-right types about university students telling them to get lost, proscription is full-on, indisputable State censorship in the raw.  To Kill A War Machine is a solidly made, inspiring film to watch, but even if it were absolute rubbish, it has already done the job it set out to do. I ended up watching it in a meeting room, on a borrowed projector, via a hastily-organised showing by people intent on getting it out before the proscription vote. Up and down the country this weekend, and again tonight, others are doing the same. It’s already out there, and a State ban would come too late to shut the barn door. Now it’s not just the story of Palestine Action, it’s the story of Palestine Action they don’t want you to see.  To Kill A War Machine is available now and can be streamed or downloaded from their website. The post Film Review: To Kill A War Machine appeared first on Freedom News.

THE POET AND PERFORMER IS A VETERAN OF THE DUTCH GRASSROOTS MOVEMENT ~ Christiaan Verwey, Buiten de Orde ~ Last night you were with your band Your Local Pirates in Burgers in Eindhoven. How was that? It was a successful evening with a mixed audience: from young punks to old regulars. Everyone was equally enthusiastic. Also during our more radical numbers. That was surprising. We played together with the dirty folk band Per Verse Vis. Very nice music that is good to dance to. In terms of content it did not really connect to our political message, but it was a nice party. What would you most like to be called for? A poetry recital, a performance, or an action? As long as it can be combined with an action, I don’t mind. Together with Peter Storm I am part of Your Local Pirates. We use music as part of the fight. That is what we like to do most. As a motivator, encouragement and possibly to stir things up a bit. If this works I will be very happy. People can certainly approach us for this. And of course also for a poetry recital or an action to participate in. What role does anarchism play in your life? It is a guideline for how I live. Helping each other, supporting each other, making decisions together. We make music very clearly from an anarchist point of view. For example, we do not want to make a profit and we believe that our texts and music belong to everyone and can be used by the movement. In fact, anyone who wants to use it for a demonstration does not even have to ask. That is also anarchism for me. We are still far from an anarchist society. We have the climate crisis, Israeli colonialism and the global rise of the far right. Where do you start and where do you prioritise? A very difficult question. For years I have been committed to the No Border struggle. I increasingly experienced this as heavy and difficult. At a certain point I didn’t know anymore. Eventually I stopped and focused on actions against foie gras and against the closure of an wildlife corridor at the Hoge Veluwe. And so I remain a bit searching. There are so many important struggles. I am non-binary myself and active in the queer struggle. And I also see this as part of the struggle against the rise of the extreme right. The policy of the extreme right has an influence on society as a whole. Also how the agro-industry is treated, with refugees and how Palestine actions are responded to. I would prefer to be active on all fronts at the same time. But unfortunately we only have 24 hours a day and I also have a private life that deserves my attention. In fact, it is always a balancing act between the different priorities. Lately I have mainly tried to seek out the struggle closer to home. I think this is the most effective. You know your surroundings best, your fellow activists and the advantage is that you don’t have to travel far. Among other things, I am active for the Zaankanters for Palestine. With this group we also try to connect locally with as many other clubs as possible, such as squatters and Extinction Rebellion. If you compare the current action movement with that of the 80s you see big differences. How do you experience that? In the 80s I experienced a lot of intense things. For example, I was one of the co-detainees of Hans Kok who died in a police cell in 1985. If you are in a cell and you hear that one of your fellow comrades has died in a similar cell, it does something to you. And if someone then screams or cries out of anger or sadness and is addressed by the guards with the threatening words ‘do we have to come in for a moment’, that is of course traumatic. And also after an incredibly violent eviction of a squat. That is unprecedentedly intense. In those days we had no support and recovery , which we now know within the anarchist movement. You were released, you drank a pot of beer in the squat café in the evening, told tall tales, soaked in a lot of grief and anger, and you kept on pounding. Before you knew it, another big event was already on the horizon. You sometimes join XR actions. How does that feel for you? Well, I got involved with XR in a rather special way. Last year I was arrested for sedition because I called online for an A12 blockade. At that moment, five other people were also dragged from their beds. And I was the only one who was not involved in the organisation at all. Together we prepared ourselves to come up with a coherent story for the lawsuit. Which I think went well. Through all the talking we got to know each other well. And despite the fact that I had a much more radical attitude, I had very good contact with my co-defendants. I felt welcome and appreciated by them. However, I do have difficulty with XR’s consensus on action, especially the far-reaching pacifism. I myself believe that you are allowed to resist police violence and attacking fascists. And no, I have never followed one of their action training courses. Why would I? I have enough experience. The nice thing about XR is that they also spend a lot of time on wellbeing. More and more people dare to say that they are dissatisfied with the political system. The far right is cleverly exploiting this. Isn’t this the right time for the anarchist movement to stand up and make a counter-voice heard? Yes, we should definitely do that a lot more. I think it is important to show ourselves in demonstrations. For example, we participated in the last climate demonstration with an anarchist bloc. We handed out flyers with information about who we are and what we want. And of course with the call for people to join us. I would really like to see a lot more anarchist flags in demonstrations. Many people have no idea what the meaning is of the colours black-green, black-red or black-purple on a flag. A great way to start a conversation with people. This can also be done through other activities, such as handing out food or clothing on the street. Of course, it is also important to write about anarchism. But visibility on the street is what I think is most important. Music can certainly play a role in that. With our duo Your Local Pirates we express the anarchist idea. Our lyrics are anarchist and we tell all sorts of things between the songs. When we are playing on the street somewhere, that has an important function. Mutual help creates beautiful things. We also played at a food distribution activity in Utrecht. A lot of people came by to eat, pick out clothes and we were there with music and our political message. Really great. That’s how we were able to bring our musical message to Palestine camps. This is what we like to do best. Which performance do you look back on with the most pleasure? We wrote a song about squatting, which was picked up by the Woonstrijd. The song is called ‘What is not allowed, that is still possible’. We were asked to play this song at quite a few demonstrations and manifestations. Now that people are starting to sing this on the streets, I think: that is really spot on. We also wrote a song about the climate battle, which we played at the big climate march in 2019. When we participated in the big demonstration in The Hague, we had a megaphone and a guitar with us. We handed out flyers so that people could sing along. This was really great. Of course, we hope that more people will do that. And I also have the idea that more and more people are singing at actions and demonstrations. I am happy about that. What kind of music do you prefer to listen to at home when there is no action or demonstration planned and you want to relax? In the car I often put on the concert channel. This is a classical channel. When I am tense or stressed, I love to listen to this. For the rest I am an old rocker and I like to listen to bands and artists like Randy Newman, Lou Reed, the Velvet Underground, King Crimson and the Soft Machine. Of course it also depends on my mood. For example, I sometimes love to listen to free jazz. What song would you like to contribute to the soundtrack for the revolution? Because I saw that question coming, I prepared myself for it. I translated a song called L’estaca by Lluis Llach. He is a Catalan singer. It was written in the time of Franco. At that time, you could not openly oppose the dictator, because that would cost you your head. That is why he made a song around a metaphor, a stake that we are all tied to. And if we all pull hard on that stake on our side, it will eventually fall over. I translated it into Dutch, then it is called De staak. We play this with Your Local Pirates. I would like to add that song. But then in one of the many translated versions, namely that of the Klezmatics. Their performance is in Yiddish and is called Der Yokh . I think both the language and the music are incredibly beautiful. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Machine translation The post Joke Kaviaar: “We make music very clearly from an anarchist point of view” appeared first on Freedom News.

POLITICAL ARTISTS ANDREI MOLODKIN AND SANTIAGO SIERRA, AND WIKILEAKS AMBASSADOR JOSEPH FARRELL, TALK TO A/POLITICAL ABOUT THE SHAM OF WESTERN LIBERTY, JULIAN ASSANGE, AND HOW ART CAN STILL TRANSFORM PAIN INTO DEFIANCE ~ Becky Haghpanah-Shirwan ~ The heightened tensions of international politics are reflected in the work of Andrei Molodkin (Russia, 1966) and Santiago Sierra (Spain, 1966); two artists from contrasting backgrounds who share strikingly similar agendas through a formal language of Political Minimalism. Presenting highly charged and censored artworks, the exhibition EAST / WEST, presented by A/POLITICAL and currently on at the National Gallery in Sofia, questions the legitimacy of the “free world” in the binary approach to the global landscape.  Andrei Molodkin, Democracy / Santiago Sierra, The Maelstrom installation shot.  A/P: Santiago, the entrance to the exhibition sets the tone with The Maelstrom where you overlay the video with the quote by Josep Borrell, the High Representative of the European Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy. He repeats: Europe is a garden. We have built a garden… The rest of the world…Most of the rest of the world is a jungle, and the jungle could invade the garden. The gardeners should take care of it…Because the jungle has a strong growth capacity, and the wall will never be high enough in order to protect the garden… The gardeners have to go to the jungle.”  How does The Maelstrom reflect the darkest elements of western ‘democracies’? Santiago Sierra: Calling this regime of terror the government of the people is Orwellian. The people of Africa do not deserve this permanent plundering of lives and wealth and Europe does not deserve this inhuman degradation of values. Civilisation exists where there is solidarity and mutual aid, where there is not, it is fascist barbarism no matter what name they give it. Democracy is choosing between two twin dictators every four years. So much evil is disgusting. A/P: Are you tired of the distinction between East and West and the creation of artificial geo-political boundaries? Whose agenda does this segmentation play into? Santiago Sierra: A lot, and let’s say it clearly that is an idea of the Anglo-American elite to prevent the union and progress of Europe. The European Union is a cave of corrupt politicians who do not care about anyone’s life or death, only serve their transatlantic masters and profit from it. Here it is about taking over the enormous natural resources of Ukraine and Russia always coveted by Atlanticist fascism, generating a lustfully sadistic war of attrition while they show us their nuclear missiles like perverted exhibitionists who open their raincoats at the door of a school. The exhaustion is total and there is not enough fentanyl to take us all down. Andrei Molodkin: As a soldier I was punished and put in military prison. We could only sleep 4 hours a day so that you lose your will. They convoyed us with weapons with the bullet inside the gun, so when you walk in front of them in the street you have the bullet on your back. You feel this tension so strongly. The boundaries are internalised. It is the citizens who are treated as animals for a political agenda based on manipulation.  East / West installation shot A/P: Andrei, your new work Bloodline uses the blood donated by military deserters. It is placed on the floor like in a Mausoleum, surrounded by Santiago’s series of veterans facing the wall. How does Bloodline serve as a contemporary portrait? Andrei Molodkin: When you’re in the military you have to be like a drone, or a machine — following orders without any questions. But of course many people were resisting. During my time I saw my contemporaries being punished for their disobedience. One of my friends was stationed on military storage. One morning we went to the canteen, and I saw a bloodline lasting around 100 meters, like a signature, on the floor. I later understood it was this man who had shot himself in the heart to relieve his tension. We passed this line quietly but the image — his last sign against his repression — stayed with me. For this work I poured the blood of deserters from, for example, the Russian Army, the Ukrainian Army, from Israel, into the empty vessels of democracy. It becomes a memory of my friend. The deserters are the true heroes who refuse to work for the corrupt power structures.  A/POLITICAL: Why is it important to make a statement like the exhibition EAST / WEST in today’s political climate? Santiago Sierra: There is evident fatigue with this absurd regime that we suffer. Hypocrisy infects populations saturated with lies that only try to live in peace while deliriously sadistic massacres are incited whose only reason for existence is the greed of sociopathic arms merchants debased by corruption to the core. Openly fascist speeches are smeared with progressive makeup without this idea of progress representing in our eyes anything more than the lie of a bloodthirsty empire that collapses in the face of the people’s desire to live and truly progress in a society without fear of massacre. Permanent. Andrei Molodkin: During my service in the Soviet Union Army near the end of the collapse of the Soviet Union, my work was to convoy missiles from the place of production to the place of dislocation. As I transported them for journeys of up to a week, I understood the size and the quantity and which warheads could erase different sized cities. It was on these journeys that I started to produce art, drawing with ball point pens to relieve the stress. I now understand the tension, the amount of weapons used in contemporary warfare and on what sort of precarious border we stay.  A/P: On 2 October, 2024 The Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe (PACE) recognised Julian Assange as a political prisoner. The committee expressed concern at his “disproportionately harsh treatment” having spent 14 years detained and explained this has had a “dangerous chilling effect” which undermines the protection of journalists and whistleblowers around the world. In support of Assange, and as a gesture towards freedom of expression and information, in February of this year, Molodkin publicly announced that he had taken $42,000,000 of Art History hostage (including works by Picasso and Rembrandt amongst others). Vaulted in a maximum security safe, the artworks were situated next to a bomb which would explode if Assange died in custody. DATE OF FREEDOM (2024), a ballpoint pen portrait of Assange, was drawn by Molodkin in February 2024 before he won the right to appeal. The release date was deliberately left blank in the hope that Assange would complete the work when he was released. Since becoming freed, Assange has visited the safe and drawn the release date 24 JUNE 2024 on the canvas with ball-point pen.   Julian Assange co-authoring DATE OF FREEDOM, Andrei Molodkin & Julian Assange Andrei, do you think the fact that Assange was in the position to complete his portrait could be interpreted as democracy functioning? Andrei Molodkin: In underground traditions, like Russian conceptualism or alternative art, we try to use the language of power to communicate with power. That’s why the idea of the portrait, like a mug shot, it shows he is a political prisoner, with an empty space for Assange to fill and complete when he is free. Just like my sculptures, these empty vessels which spell, for example Democracy, Justice, Capitalism, I insert politicised materials such as Russian or Iraqi crude oil. In DATE OF FREEDOM the empty space was filled by Assange, and immediately politicised. The date is a reset counter placed in art history. In the time of catastrophe, art history may exist in a new form, as a pile of grey ashes, just like the children in Gaza.  Julian Assange was released, but he was not released as a free person. A/P: The existence of political prisoners is said to serve as a critical indicator of the health of a nation’s democratic institutions and the rule of law. Santiago, what was the reaction to your work Political Prisoners in Contemporary Spain when you first exhibited it in 2018? How has the work been utilised by community groups? Santiago Sierra: The reaction was so hysterical that it produced the first recorded censorship at the Madrid Art Fair, which had become a catwalk for the most corrupt monarchy in Europe. How the censors, as testicular as they lacked the slightest intelligence, caused the opposite effect to that desired and currently I can proudly say that the work no longer belongs to me because it has become an instrument of vindication and struggle of all groups retaliated for wanting a better world. Never has one of my works been exhibited so much and in so many different places. Spontaneous presentations were made that we sometimes didn’t even know about. People would simply paste the images on the walls and advertise it as an exhibition. I had never before seen a crowd shouting for freedom in front of a work of art, neither mine nor any other artist’s, and this happened with this work. You can’t imagine the emotion that seeing such an impact caused in me, it didn’t matter who the author was, the work belonged to everyone. A/P: Joseph, how useful is culture in the fight for democracy? Joseph Farrell: Art has the power to transform political rhetoric into something visceral and urgent. Art and culture have always been sanctuaries for political expression, thriving even under authoritarian regimes. They’ve offered a space for dissenting voices and truth-telling when other avenues were silenced. Political art isn’t just commentary—it’s an act of defiance. The image of Julian Assange within this exhibition stands as a symbol of resistance, free speech, and the human cost of truth-telling. Created during his incarceration for practicing journalism, the work was shadowed by the uncertainty of his survival. Its completion—by his own hand—transforms it into more than art. It becomes a testament to his endurance and the pursuit of truth. This piece bridges the worlds of culture, art, politics, media, and justice, challenging the viewer to confront the essential fight for transparency in an age where truth is increasingly under siege. While Julian is now free, the struggle to liberate journalism and protect those who speak truth to power is far from over. This work isn’t just a reminder of what’s been fought for—it’s a call to action. EAST / WEST continues at The National Gallery of Bulgaria until 16 February 2025 The post The lie of a bloodthirsty empire appeared first on Freedom News.

THE INDIE BAND MIXED DIVERSE MUSICAL STYLES WITH AN ANTI-ESTABLISHMENT AGENDA  ~ Levon Kwok ~ In Hong Kong, recent events such as the 2019 Anti-Extradition Bill Protests represent young Hong Kongers’ will to protect their freedoms — but during the 1980s and 1990s, the indie band Blackbird (黑鳥) offered a much more radical proposition. Influenced by the student movements in 1968, this group of Hong Kong anarchists and libertarians were actively working together to respond to public issues such as colonial politics, capitalist economy, the establishment, people’s unfreedoms and Communist China. Founded in 1979, the members of Blackbird included Lenny Kwok (Guo Da-nian) (founding member, singer, guitarist), Cassi Kwan (founding member, singer, bassist), Augustine Mok Chiu Yu (singer), Tom Tong (singer), Chi Hung Yuen (singer), Peter Lee (singer, guitarist) and Ming Pui Lau (drummer) (due to internal strife, most of the members left the band during 1992-93, except for the founding members). Before its disbandment in 1999, Blackbird did multiple gigs at public/university venues around the city and abroad, and released 7 albums in total. These albums are “East Is Red/Generation 97” (1984), “Manifesto” (1985), “Living Our Lives” (1987), “People Have The Power” (1989), “Uniradical Subversion” (1995, co-produced with several activist bands around the world, including Earth Citizen (Zürich), Rhythm Activism (Montréal), Sō Sō (Tokyo), etc.), “Before The Storm” (1997) and “Singing In The Dead Of The Night” (1999/2004) (the first four are cassettes, the rest CDs). During 2007, “Blackbird: Body Of Work 1984-2004”, a CD compilation of all Blackbird songs, and Singing In The Dead Of Night (Hong Kong: Ming Pao Weekly), a collection book containing feature interviews, articles, photographs and hand-written music scores plus a bonus CD album, were successively published as the codas of Blackbird’s cultural activism. As the albums’ names shown, Blackbird’s music works have strong political overtones, and they clearly suggest the band’s two key concerns: Hong Kong (and Chinese) politics and anarchist values. For example, “East Is Red” (1984), a rock-style adaptation of “The East Is Red” – a de facto Chinese anthem for the worship of Mao Zedong and the Chinese Communist Party during the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s, denounces Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping’s dictatorial rule over mainland China; “Generation 97” (1984) is a Pink Floyd-style song on Hong Kongers’ “indifferent” attitude towards their political future; “Manifesto” (1986) expresses sincere hope for human solidarity and unity; “Never” (1987) criticises capitalism for ruining people’s lives; “50 Years Unchanged” (1987) satirises the 1984 Sino-British Joint Declaration, which regulates Hong Kong to be handed over from the UK to China in 1997; “People Have The Power” (1989), which is adapted from Patti Smith’s “People Have The Power”, is sung for the Chinese students and citizens who struggled for democracy in Beijing during the summer of 1989. Interestingly, Blackbird played not only rock, but also different styles of music, ranging from Cantonese Nanyin (Naamyam) to electronic music, experimental, blues, punk, folk, etc. Notable examples include “Nanyin: The History Of Hongkong” (1984) – a Cantonese Nanyin tune on the city’s colonial past, “Run, Ran, Running”/“Migration Song” (1987) – two electro-style English-language songs on Hong Kong migration waves during the 1980s, “Lament Of The Autumn Wind 97” (1997) – a Cantonese oldie tune for Hong Kongers’ gloomy future and “Ling Lum Luk” (1999/2004) – a lovely satirical melody on the city’s illusive economic upsurge after the handover in 1997. In fact, Blackbird intentionally did not stick to a single style of music in order to remind the audience of the diversity of contemporary music culture, in which there should be “no domination of one particular form of art over other forms of art”, as Ronald Creagh said in “Briefing Anarchism” (1987).  Blackbird’s strong sense of anarchist identity was also expressed in the band’s negative attitude towards the establishment: Blackbird never comes to terms with any record labels and government bodies. The band’s members believed that, in this way, they can be free from any kind of control, and their works can therefore have real power to influence the audience. This is the purest form of communication: direct contact between people. Seeing their music as an activistic practice, Blackbird’s members spent much time working not on the improvement of their playing skills, but on the interpretation of what they desire to communicate – anarchist politics. Because of this, Blackbird’s music is – despite being raw in a technical sense – powerful and influential in inspiring people. All in all, Blackbird, as Maximum Rocknroll reported, “is the only politically radical band in Hong Kong”, differentiating itself from other rock bands in Greater China during its heyday. Today, Hong Kong is in a more complex situation, no matter which aspects – political, cultural, social, environmental, economic, etc. – of the city are concerned. However, it’s not the end of the story. Here, Blackbird had left Hong Kongers unique works of music that directly expose the absurdity and irrationality of politics, reminding the people of the necessity of giving up relying on political powers and actively standing up for their own political future (as they have again and again been betrayed by different rulers). Further, being widely shared on multimedia platforms, forums and websites, the songs by Blackbird not only serve as historical records for the world to understand about the city’s past from an anarchist perspective, but also continue to inspire today’s young and veteran activists to push forward with their resistance work at home and abroad, until the day of the realisation of the freedom and liberation of all humanity. The post Blackbird: A howl of protest from Hong Kong anarchists appeared first on Freedom News.