(THIS ARTICLE IS MACHINE TRANSLATED by Google from Norwegian)
From the day you are born, you are part of several different constellations of "we". Social and emotional, geographical and biological, custom and forced. If you have a red passport with the inscription Norway in the back pocket, you fall under the Norwegian vi. You rarely meet closed front doors, ask few questions about why you want to visit a place, or suspect you of refusing to return home. The world is largely open to you. And if your name and appearance also indicate that you come from a cold, Scandinavian country near the top of the northern hemisphere, you can safely sit back and enjoy the journey. You have window space in the VIP lounge – until further notice.
It's Friday 13. May and morning in the Arrivals Hall at Gardermoen Airport. I stand straight up and down, my arms full of white lilies and my eyes fixed firmly on "Arrival Abroad". In a few minutes he will round the corner at the exit and calmly meet me with a small blue trolley case. Author Akram Musallam, a resident of Ramallah in Palestine, has landed on Norwegian soil.
Three days before this came a message from him, with a content I had honestly stopped hoping for: "The Norwegian Embassy just called me; Finally, Akram was granted a visa to Norway to attend the MOT show in Oslo, and after almost two weeks we had pushed insistently on the Norwegian immigration authorities to convert their refusal. The lilies are glass bells in my hands, and in my head an old song rings; I fought the law and won the law. But I adjust the end of the sentence this time. The Immigration Act eventually had to bow, in respect of the very art and freedom of expression. We can cost ourselves a triumphant – and grateful – "Ha!"
Illusions. As one of the organizers of the antisocial art festival MOT performances, I put the brown cheese in the throat when one of our guests was denied his application for a visa by the Norwegian authorities. I took it for granted that a writer was allowed to visit Norway regardless of where in the world she or he had been born. My country, which gives me freedom of movement, welfare and security. My country, which likes to repeat words like "human rights" and "dialogue" in caps lock. Peace nation Norway. Which gladly takes the credit for giving Palestine and Israel the "Bloody-Oslo Agreement". The peace nation that sells weapons to Israel with one hand in the shadows and grants flood-lit aid to Palestine with the other. Of course, I ought to know better than to allow myself to be disappointed, I who believed the illusions of the country I was born in were crushed long ago. But. It came so abruptly, this rejection. I expected opposition from the Israeli authorities, but not from the Norwegian. So I still rent some illusions around still. Distance often provides a useful and corrective perspective, but it is also possible that all the long periods in foreignness over the last ten years have made me soft and full of homesickness. To a country and a we who in fact exist nothing but as a nostalgic construction.
"Boycott us." Several of our guests land at Gardermoen this Friday in May. Author Susan Abulhawa comes across the vast ocean to the west, from New York. As a US citizen, she is a visa-free welcome to visit Norway. But Susan, in addition to being an American, is part of another we; her parents had to flee from Jerusalem during the 1967 war, Susan was born overseas and thus into the great Palestinian diaspora. The numbers vary somewhat, but about ten million Palestinians are scattered around the world. Ten million people. Forced out and away, into a homeless life. Many are deprived of their freedom of movement completely, without state and passport you are nothing in our world, and even the visit of relatives and friends who live behind the eight-meter-high concrete walls that surround Palestine remains an unattainable dream. And it doesn't help with celebrity status, international literary awards or cinematographed books – in this case, perhaps the opposite: Susan was rejected by Israeli border control authorities the last time she left to visit her home country. Access denied.
In the afternoon, artist activists Eitan and Eléonore Bronstein fly in from Tel Aviv. Israeli citizens also do not need a visit visa to Norway. The immigration authorities do not suspect them of refusing to return to the country they come from, they do not require them to obtain marriage certificates and birth certificates of any children they may have to show "affiliation with their home country", or to provide a "good reason" to visit Norway . The road is relatively free of bumps with an Israeli passport in the back pocket. But Eitan and Eléonore's main project is the De-Colonizer, which in short seeks a decolonialization of both themselves and the surrounding community. They also encourage full academic and artistic boycott of Israel – for, as they said from the stage during the festival: “The change will not come from within the state of Israel. We need your help to end the Occupation of Palestine: Please boycott us! ”
How many years will we continue to be witnesses without delivering any real change?
Witnesses. I stay awake for much of the following night. Since 2008, I have had annual stays in Palestine, like so many other international visitors. The West Bank is almost run over by foreign artists, activists and aid workers. Palestine welcomes all foreigners who pass through Israeli border controls with open and cordial arms. I have observed, photographed, filmed and written about the gross violations of fundamental human rights to which Palestinians are daily exposed. Without a few things having changed for the better, in fact, things have only gotten worse and worse over the years. The despair and frustration of this sometimes stretches beneath my legs. We visitors to the West Bank take part in the performance that repeats – we obey and act, post pictures on Facebook and write in capital letters about how terrible the Israeli occupation is. We are Witnesses. And all of a sudden it's all about "we" are there, "we" see it, "we" are in the firing line – it's about ending the Zionist madness. And in the background, the Palestinians are patiently and steadfastly holding the position, as poet Rafeef Ziadah says in the poem "If My Words Could Stop This" (performed at the festival). By all means – witnesses are important. Communicating what you see is important, and international presence is important. But how many years shall we continue to be witnesses without delivering any real change?
Clumsy. Four of the MOT show's visiting guests are also in bed somewhere in Oslo that night. Every day, they all stand with both legs and heart in the middle of this twisty, dense thicket called the Palestine-Israel conflict. And the shame of my own inadequacy, and not least of my nation's cowardice and double morality, is clinging to me.
The festival has set sail when author Atef Abu Saif lands on Saturday morning, and with that our guest list completes. He is also an internationally acclaimed and award-winning author, and comes directly from the book tour in Germany, where he has read aloud from The Drone Eats With Me. Atef was born and raised in the Jabalia refugee camp on the outskirts of Gaza City, and it is the diary notes from the summer 2014 that he has reworked into The Drone. It was the first time he visited Norway – Norwegian authorities have refused previous visa applications. His participation was possible thanks to a Schengen visa issued by Germany.
MOT performances are, of course, far from the only Norwegian festival or organization that marks a new and stricter enforcement of the Immigration Act's regulations for invited guests. It could be interesting to see statistics on how many people are prevented from attending cultural or political events because the Norwegian authorities are so afraid that "they will not go back where they come from". Decency and compassion cannot be taken for granted.
I mentioned gratitude initially. And yes, I am grateful that freedom of speech and art are values Norway wants to be associated with. But otherwise? Well, the world is a jungle of human rights violations, conflicts, and gagging of freedom of speech, but it also has some great clearances of humanity that are worthy of gratitude. Something also we – behind MOT performances, formed a few long days in May. And that we do not relate to country of origin and passport, but to people and thoughts. Art opens doors no political speech or activist campaign can. We are the real boundless. And we can change everything.
MOTforestillinger is an annual art festival in Oslo. This year's focus was literature. The organizers highlight the Israeli occupation of Palestine as well as possible paths to freedom and justice for the population – by offering meetings with art and artists from the historical
Palestine to a Norwegian audience.
