The Swedish government, in its usual common-sense approach to the world, has sponsored an exhibition called "Making Differences" which explores genocide, among other things that set us apart on this planet. One of the entries, that of an Israeli-born named Dror Feiler, is Snow White and the Madness of Truth, "a boat carrying a photograph of female suicide bomber Hanadi Jaradat, floating in a pool of red liquid," highlighted by a Bach cantata playing in the background. It seems that the Israeli ambassador to Sweden took great offense to this installation and, in a fit of rage, attacked and destroyed part of the exhibit before he was escorted out of the gallery. The ambassador is now being held answerable to Sweden's Foreign Affairs department while the artist remains unrepentant of his work. For a full report of the incident and aftereffects, please click here.
This defacement has been condoned by the Israeli government, with its rationale being one of self-defense against anti-Semitism. In fact, many wrote the BBC praising and decrying the actions of the Israeli ambassador. One lot chided Israel for not being able to handle the truth, while the other argued that the Bomber art exhibit is in bad taste. How would it be accepted if it were Osama Bin Laden's visage up there and not that of a female Palestinian suicide bomber? A third viewpoint expressed the entire situation as "poor taste confront[ing] poor taste."
Why the classification Bomber art? It's just art. Do certain motifs consitute the actions themselves? Furthermore, so what if it had been Osama Bin Laden up there? Understanding comes from being brave enough to explore one's own anxieties, even the better through art and literature. Just because one doesn't want to see something doesn't mean it goes away. Bin Laden as well as the suicide bombers do happen to be symbols of our times, and their widespread beliefs beg scrutiny of the non-belligerent variety. Living under the shadow of that which causes fear, and ignoring it through dismissal and censorship, only increases its importance and renders it all the more fearful.
If the ambassador had seen the installation through his fellow Israeli's eyes - that a Palestinian and several Jewish people had to die at all over the Israeli-Arab conflict, that a beautiful and educated woman felt compelled to give up her life for such a desolate cause, that the work portrays the overall pathos of such senselessness and the history it stems from - he wouldn't have reacted in such a way. Unfortunately, his self-righteous indignation got in the way of his humanity. As long as this disposition prospers and is encouraged by both sides of a battle, peace is unattainable.
The art is Anti-Semitism? What about Anti-Arabism? Too long has the Israeli government ridden on the coattails of historic oppression to foster its own pogrom against the Palestinians. Not all Israelis are out to exterminate those that come in the way of their national sovereignty, a prime example being the artist Feiler himself who stands against all human outrage. That message is not worth losing over a collective feeling of false moral rectitude.
Ironically enough, the incident puts a new shade on the concept of interactive art. The exhibit achieved the dialogue it sought, even if it was not in the introspective and anti-media-frenzy manner in which it was originally intended. Here's hoping the sensation surrounding Snow White does not prove to be Freiler's cause of death, nor his kiss of death.
While driving into work yesterday, I noticed that traffic was backed up at the western entrance of New Orleans’s Warehouse District. As I inched up, the bottleneck turned out to be a couple of police trucks, off which several on-duty officers were unloading barricades. This being the usual parade or visiting-dignitary routine, I duly ignored it until realizing that Mardi Gras is still a month away, and who of importance is visiting the Warehouse District on a Thursday? Perplexed yet unconcerned, I zoomed ahead and was soon mired in the tasks that occupy my workday.
Just when I thought my day was going alright … around mid-morning, I received a phone call from my leasing agent informing me that the owner of the house D and I were all set to occupy (coincidentally the leasing agent’s son) had suddenly decided to renege on our deal as our move-in date was not to his liking. If there is anything I hate more than slimy politics, it is searching for a place to live, especially in New Orleans where you can rent a perfectly charming Greek Revival only to wake up a few months later and discover that your place houses more vermin than Chicago’s entire sewer system.
The phone rang again. Feeling a mild headache come on, I thought, “Ugh, what next?” I should write myself a note not to think those words because this was D filling me in on the reason for the police barricades. Remember what I said I like only slightly less than house hunting? Slimy politics. I was told, in a somber and apologetic tone, that George W. Bush was in town as part of a fund-raising trip. Dun-dun-duuuuuuuuun.
The headache exploded into a full-blown migraine. I should have known that police barricades placed simultaneously around the entrances to a church and the D-Day Museum can only mean one thing. Bush was going to pray, visit with newly-elected Governor Blanco on the future of Louisiana, and address attendees of the $2000-a-plate dinner at the D-Day Museum. How could that man stand here, in one of America’s most impoverished states, and beg for money and support to develop an extra-terrestrial program? I cringe at the thought of $1 billion being shot into space while it could be utilized better getting Americans out of ghettos and off the streets, and into homes and schools … what do I know? These citizens don’t deserve the help of the better off; they brought it on themselves, and who cares for their progress? Their disenfranchisement only assures the continued reign of the current administration. To the moon, poor and uneducated, to the moon! If I were to call Bush a lunatic, do you think he’d get it?
My potential home lost, a really bad headache, and Bush ten blocks away from me. The astrological sky was obviously conspiring against me - maybe Jupiter was booted out of the 11th house and Pluto didn’t keep its appointment with the Sun. Or was it the dark cloud that Bush’s presence evinced over the entire city? Perhaps the moon is off kilter because it hears its name being taken in vain again, and shudders at the threat of being occupied in the name of God, freedom, and apple pie.
Well, things are better. Bush wreaks havoc elsewhere in his unconscientious glory, I am left with quite a few new home options, Venus is the ruler of my eighth house, and the man in the moon is smiling. And smile he will, until he recognizes that the girl in the world is really a gun-slinging cowboy from Texas.
BBC headlines blare: "'Chemical weapons' found in Iraq "
Dozens of mortar rounds containing chemical weapons, including mustard gas, were unearthed by Danish troops in southern Iraq.
36 mortar rounds, people. 36. And they were buried for 10 years. With traces of chemical warfare agents, including blister gas, which makes victims break out in painful blisters. Saddam said they had been destroyed. If this is going to be used as a piece of proof that this war was justified, I only have one question: Does our president have an updated Excel spreadsheet that details every weapon (of mass destruction or otherwise) that this country contains?
Meanwhile, back at the sanatorium, Kim Jong Il and his slaves have finished reprocessing 8,000 spent fuel rods that will help them build six nuclear weapons, the kind that makes your whole body separate into its components, not just blisters. As of today. Not buried in the back 40 for 10 years. Hot and fresh, today.
However, Bush's congressional delegation was held back from checking out Il's WMD because "the timing was not appropriate." So, the current administration does know the meaning of the word diplomacy, and only cares to utilize said concept when fiscally easy for them. Oh, North Korea is a bit of a touchy situation for us right now, so we'll just keep our buddies, Pakistan and Japan, supplied with material to build nuclear weapons, just in case all hell breaks loose. Proliferation by our friends is better than non-proliferation by our enemies. That is fine and dandy, until they turn on us. What? We didn't get Christmas cards from the Taliban and Saddam this year? Why, I oughtta ...
Dr. Strangelove would be so proud.
Sources:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/3386357.stm
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/3384815.stm