[Reader-list] Scorched

[rehan ansari]

Dear All, I saw a terrific production yesterday of Scorched, a play by Wajdi Mouwad, directed by Richard Rose, at the Tarragon Theatre in Toronto. I have no hesitation in saying that the first half of the play was the best writing and directing I have seen in theatre. The second half wasnt bad either :). Whats the point of saying this when a great theatrical production is a shooting star,  but the next day  I see this letter from Wajdi Mouwad on the old subject of art and politics and so here goes:


Its a letter from playwright Wajdi Mouwad
to Prime Minister Stpehen Harper. It was published in Le Devoir a few
days ago. The translation below is thanks to John van Burek. the text
is here: 

http://www.thewreckingball.ca/ 

Its a call to arms. 
______________________________________________________________________
An open letter to Prime Minister Harper: 

Monsieur le premier ministre, 

We
are neighbours. We work across the street from one another. You are
>Prime Minister of the Parliament of Canada and I, across the way,
am a >writer, theatre director and Artistic Director of the French
Theatre at >the National Arts Centre (NAC). So, like you, I am an
employee of the >state, working for the Federal Government; in other
words, we are colleagues. 

Let
me take advantage of this unique position, as one functionary to
>another, to chat with you about the elimination of some federal
grants in >the field of culture, something that your government
recently undertook. >Indeed, having followed this matter closely, I
have arrived at a few >conclusions that I would like to publicly
share with you since, as I'm sure you will agree, this debate has
become one of public interest. 

The Symbolism 

Firstly,
it seems that you might benefit by surrounding yourself with
>counsellors who will be attentive to the symbolic aspects of your
>Government's actions. I am sure you know this but there is no harm
in reminding ourselves that every public action denotes not only what
it is >but what it symbolises. >For example, a Prime Minister who
chooses not attend the opening ceremonies of the Olympics, claiming his
schedule does not permit it, in no way reduces the symbolism which says
that his absence might signify something else. This might signify that
he wishes to denote that Canada supports the claims of Tibet. Or it
might serve as a sign of protest over the way in which Beijing deals
with human rights. If the Prime Minister insists that his absence is
really just a matter of timing, whether he likes it or not, this will
take on symbolic meaning that commits the entire country. The symbolism
of a public gesture will always outweigh the technical explanations.
 
Declaration of war
 
Last
week, your government reaffirmed its manner of governing unilaterally,
this time on a domestic issue, in bringing about reductions in granting
programs destined for the cultural sector. A mere matter of budgeting,
you say, but one which sends shock waves throughout the cultural milieu
–rightly or wrongly, as we shall see- for being seen as an expression
of your contempt for that sector. The confusion with which your
Ministers tried to justify those reductions and their refusal to make
public the reports on the eliminated programs, only served to confirm
the symbolic significance of that contempt. You have just declared war
on the artists. Now, as one functionary to another, this is the second
thing that I wanted to tell you: no government, in showing contempt for
artists, has ever been able to survive. Not one. One can, of course,
ignore them, corrupt them, seduce them, buy them, censor them, kill
them, send them to camps, spy on them, but hold them in contempt, no.
That is akin to rupturing the strange pact, made millennia ago, between
art and politics.
 
Contempt
 
Art
and politics both hate and envy one another; since time immemorial,
they detest each other and they are mutually attracted, and it's
through this dynamic that many a political idea has been born; it is in
this dynamic that sometimes, great works of art see the light of day.
Your cultural politics, it must be said, provoke only a profound
consternation.
Neither
hate nor detestation, not envy nor attraction, nothing but numbness
before the oppressive vacuum that drives your policies.
 
This
vacuum which lies between you and the artists of Canada, from a
symbolic point of view, signifies that your government, for however
long it lasts, will not witness either the birth of a political idea or
a masterwork, so firm is your apparent belief in the unworthiness of
that for which you show contempt. Contempt is a subterranean sentiment,
being a mix of unassimilated jealousy and fear towards that which we
despise. Such governments have existed, but not lasted because even the
most detestable of governments cannot endure if it hasn't the courage
to affirm what it actually is.
 
Why is this?
 
What
are the reasons behind these reductions, which are cut from the same
cloth as those made last year on the majority of Canadian embassies,
who saw their cultural programming reduced, if not eliminated? The
economies >that you have made are ridiculously small and the votes
you might win with >them have already been won. For what reason,
then, are you so bent on hurting the artists by denying them some of
their tools? What are you seeking to extinguish and to gain?
 
Your
silence and your actions make one fear the worst for, in the end, we
are quite struck by the belief that this contempt, made eloquent by
your budget cuts, is very real and that you feel nothing but disgust
for these people, these artists, who spend their time by wasting it and
in spending the good taxpayers money, he who, rather than doing
uplifting work, can only toil.
 
And
yet, I still cannot fathom your reasoning. Plenty of politicians, for
the past fifty years, have done all they could to depoliticise art, to
strip it of its symbolic import. They try the impossible, to untie that
knot which binds art to politics. And they almost succeed! Whereas you,
in the space of one week, have undone this work of chloroforming, by
>awakening the cultural milieu, Francophone and Anglophone, and from
coast to coast. Even if politically speaking they are marginal and
negligible, one must never underestimate intellectuals, never
underestimate artists; don't underestimate their ability to do you harm.
 
A grain of sand is all-powerful
 
I
believe, my dear colleague, that you yourself have just planted the
grain of sand that could derail the entire machine of your electoral
campaign. Culture is, in fact, nothing but a grain of sand, but therein
lays its power, in its silent front. It operates in the dark. That is
its legitimate strength.
 
It
is full of people who are incomprehensible but very adept with words.
They have voices. They know how to write, to paint, to dance, to
sculpt, to sing, and they won't let up on you. Democratically speaking,
they seek to annihilate your policies. They will not give up. How could
they?
 
You
must understand them: they have not had a clear and common purpose for
a very long time, for such a long time that they have no common cause
to defend. In one week, by not controlling the symbolic importance of
your actions, you have just given them passion, anger, rage.
 
In the dark
 
The
resistance that will begin today, and to which my letter is added, is
but a first manifestation of a movement that you yourself have set in
motion: an incalculable number of texts, speeches, acts, assemblies,
marches, will now be making themselves heard. They will not be
exhausted.
 
Some
of these will, perhaps, following my letter, be weakened but within
each word, there will be a spark of rage, relit, and it is precisely
the addition of these tiny instances of fire that will shape the grain
of sand that you will never be able to shake. This will not settle
down, the pressure will not be diminished.
 
Monsieur
le premier ministre, we are neighbours. We work across the street from
one another. There is nothing but the Cenotaph between our offices, and
this is as it should be because politics and art have always mirrored
one another, each on its own shore, each seeing itself in the other,
separated by that river where life and death are weighed at every
moment.
 
We
have many things in common, but an artist, contrary to a politician,
has nothing to lose, because he or she does not make laws; and if it is
prime ministers who change the world, it's the artist who will show
this to the world. So do not attempt, through your policies, to blind
us, Monsieur le premier ministre; do not ignore that reflection on the
opposite shore, do not plunge us further into the dark. Do not diminish
us.
 
Wajdi Mouawad