Abstract
New British play Making Stalin Laugh explores the work of the Moscow State Yiddish Theatre before the company was closed and its actors executed. Index on Censorship’s CEO
Schneider was not exaggerating. In 1948, Solomon Mikhoels, Goset’s leading actor and director, was murdered on government’s orders. The authorities shut down the group and four years later its remaining members were executed. Up until then they’d walked a tightrope, adjusting constantly for about-turns of government taste, while trying to stay true to their values – and entertain. “Even a long-running hit could suddenly be denounced as ‘counter-revolutionary’, striking panic into all concerned,” wrote Schneider in UK newspaper The Guardian, ahead of his play’s June debut in at London’s JW3 theatre.
Nearly 70 years on, and 23 years since the collapse of the Soviet Union, it can sometimes be easy to forget the power of the artist in challenging repression, or the conditions of fear and terror under which many of them work. Repressive governments know the power that writers and artists can wield. That is why, even in the internet age, they seek to censor and control artistic expression.
Lebanese writer Lucien Bourjeily made censorship the theme of his latest play – Will it Pass or Not? – to test the limits of a law that has created a “climate of fear” in his country. “Because the censorship law in Lebanon is so vague and elusive,” he told Index earlier this year, artworks that might have received approval two years ago are censored or banned today. “In this climate of fear, the military obviously becomes more present in day-to-day life, tightening security … and tightening their grip on freedom of expression … Censorship thrives when the state feels insecure or when it makes the common mistake of correlating security and freedom of expression.” Bourjeily’s play was banned and, in May, authorities confiscated his passport – although they later returned it.
ABOVE: Making Stalin Laugh, by David Schneider, was performed at the JW3 theatre in London in June and July 2014
Credit: Simon Annand for JW3
Many artists face harassment and imprisonment for work that questions the apparatus of the state. Index condemned Morocco’s government, for example, over the trial of rapper Mouad Belghouat – also known as Lhaqed or El Haqed, “the enraged one” – who was sentenced in July to four months in prison. Belghouat, accused of assaulting police officers, was convicted following proceedings that defence lawyers called “unjust” and “unfair”, and which rights groups believe were intended to punish the popular musician for lyrics that condemn corruption and police brutality.
Years after the Soviet Union’s collapse, it can be easy to forget the power of the artist in challenging repression
Governments fear these artists because in many countries, it is these very individuals who are among the most powerful advocates for change, articulating frustrations that state and private media can or will not address. Such governments ban anything, and anyone, that might challenge the official narrative, on the pretext of ensuring national stability, of maintaining law and order.
In Egypt, for example, artistic expression is playing a key role in challenging the rising tide of sexual violence against women. Though the government has introduced belated legislation to tackle these crimes, their efforts are seen as weak and ineffectual. Anger at the inability of the police, government and judiciary to deal with sexual violence is being channelled into art. Through plays, street art, music and dance, men and women are addressing an issue that gets little coverage in the traditional media. “Art is one of the most necessary mediums to impact society,” says Deena Mohamed, who created a web comic about a hijab-wearing superhero fighting daily sexual harassment. “For people who are unaware of the issues women go through, I hope it helps them understand or at least gives them something to think about.”
Visual art and the spoken word also take on added importance in areas where literacy levels are low and internet access is poor. In Burma, before the political reforms that started at the end of 2011, writers would hold talks about literary classics, which masked discussion of current affairs and political commentary. But while artists have the power to rattle governments, they are also vulnerable. Authors, poets, playwrights, painters and sculptors work largely alone. They are not salaried, they lack the security that being part of a large, or even small, company can offer. And without public recognition, they are often seen as easy targets by repressive regimes. That is why it is crucial that these individuals, and their works, are championed. Without them, we are all diminished.