Dark stories for dark times: The 2024 crime novel / by Dennis Broe

_{^{Image via PW}}

_{Reposted from Peoples World}

This year the Quais du Polar in Lyon, the largest European festival of crime novels and one of the largest in the world, in celebrating its 20th season, was marked by the intrusion into the spine of the novels by the real-world problems and catastrophes going on around the festival.

Each evening, just outside the festival walls, in front of the town hall, there was a vigil calling for a ceasefire in Gaza, while inside there were novelists incorporating climate apocalypse, rabid income inequality, and the indignity of European cities, most notably Venice and Barcelona, overcome by tourism.

In a panel on encouragement of reading sponsored by UNESCO’s “Creative Cities” initiative, the Icelandic crime writer Yrsa Sigurðardóttir, who ought to know since she not only helped create and chair the Reykjavik Crime Fiction Festival but has written 15 novels, explained that Iceland has money to give to support all kinds of arts because it is one of the few countries in the world that “doesn’t have an army.” She suggested, and not totally facetiously, that instead of destroying each other on the battlefield, Russia’s Putin and Ukraine’s Zelensky instead should duel it out by writing alternate chapters of a novel. Such an initiative is sponsored each year as two crime writers come together to do just that. This year’s work is The Steve McQueen which quotes the film The Thomas Crown Affair, which starred McQueen, since both are about heists that go awry. The novel is authored by Lyon’s Caryl Férey and Northern England’s Tim Willocks, whose his most famous book, however, Bad City Blues, is set in New Orleans.

*_{^{Lisbeth Salander Vs. the Extraction Industry}}*

This year’s work is The Steve McQueen about a Thomas Crown Affair, a film which starred McQueen, heist that goes awry authored by Lyon’s Caryl Férey and Tim Willocks whose most famous book Bad City Blues is set in New Orleans though he is from the north of England.

A panel innocuously celebrating cooperation between France and Britain initiated in the Entente Cordial signed in 1904 that ended several centuries of armed conflict, took on a contemporary air when Peter May recounted why he had come out of retirement to write A Winter Grave, a crime novel set in 2051. In this nightmarish future, the Scottish Highlands are frozen, but thawing enough so a dead body is discovered in an icy cave while Glasgow is flooded, filled with acrid odors from the backed-up sewers, with cars replaced by Venetian-style water taxis. May related that after COP26, the 2021 Glasgow Climate Conference, which he attended, he became convinced that the destruction of the earth was not going to be addressed. He was so shocked by this cavalier attitude that he wrote a book in which the context that surrounds the mystery is a failing earth where two billion people are forced to flee their homes.

He was not the only writer to address this issue. One panel focused on dystopic worlds to come, a subject that had previously not been central to the crime novel, which has always been an excellent way of highlighting contemporary and past corruption but has generally steered clear of the science fiction predilection with the future, a sign that the climate crisis is intruding everywhere.

**_{^{Climate Apocalypse Hits Glasgow}}**

Back in the present again, the devastating effects of fossil fuel and mineral extraction showed up as Karin Smirnoff, who is now charged with continuing Steig Larson’s Millennium series with The Girl in the Eagle’s Talons, explained that her sequel is set in the north of Sweden, home of Europe’s last Indigenous population, the Sami, where mining interests unearthing material for clean energy batteries often claim they can drill and dig on the land because “nobody lives there.” Smirnoff, the first female to write a volume of a series which is now subtitled “A Lizbeth Salander Novel,” pointing to the popularity of the female character, explained by way of her book that a good deal of harm is done to Indigenous lands in the name of safe and clean energy, where to get access to the minerals powering batteries the companies “kill six lakes surrounding the mine.”

A panel on white collar crime suddenly took an unexpected turn when the Italian mystery writer Valerio Varesi, whose novels are set in Parma in Northern Italy’s Po Valley, explained that his subject is the change in his town in the wake of the Reagan-Thatcher ’80s. It was at that point that he observed the market economy driving human behavior and the thirst and need for money and profits beginning to dominate human relationships. Varesi, who is also a journalist for La Repubblica, explained that after the economic crash of 1929, banks and the financial sector were governed by rules that have since been evacuated, allowing the second crash of 2008. His latest, The Lizard Strategy, recounts the eerie disappearance of Parma’s mayor just as he is about to be the subject of a corruption investigation. In light of the penetration of capital into all forms of life, he asked the panel a pointed question: “Who governs Europe, Christine Lagarde (president of the European Central Bank) or Ursula von der Leyen (president of the European Parliament)?” The rest of the panel refused to take up the question and the moderator ordered Valerio not to pursue the subject further.

A regular guest at the festival is France’s most popular crime writer Michel Bussi, whose novels are often diverting page turners but who this year appeared at the conference with his latest, My Heart Has Moved, which confronts the problem of increasing inequality in his town of Rouen. Bussi is a political geographer turned novelist and he explained that the town is now more strictly segregated into the rich more conservative right bank and the poor more radical left bank with the schools on the former now much less open to students from the latter. His novel is about the lifelong quest of a boy whose mother is murdered seemingly by his working-class father but who then discovers that the apparent truth may not be the case.

Venice’s Donna Leon talked about another kind of interpenetration of capital into the lives of the city’s dwindling number of actual citizens who live there, with roughly 50,000 residents overwhelmed by the 30 million people who visit each year. Her inspector Brunetti, she said, does not operate in the land of the tourists but rather pursues his cases by interacting with the still remaining locals, where he often unearths corruption amid what she called “the most beautiful city in the world.” She cited two examples. The first being the often-proposed tourist fee as a way of limiting visitors to the city by fining them if they do not have a permit. She described this as “unenforceable” because of the many ways of accessing the city and the limited number of officials verifying the passes and thus simply designed to appease public opinion. A greater scandal she discussed is the again often cited project of a bridge from Sicily to the mainland which has already consumed millions and which, if it is completed, she hinted, would greatly facilitate traffic from organized crime to the mainland.

One of the guests of honor was John Grisham whose new novel The Exchange is a sequel 30 years later to his second and breakthrough novel The Firm. He recounted how The Firm came to be published as a story that might inspire younger writers. His first book, A Time To Kill, later a publishing success and a film, did not do well when it was initially published. He wrote the second and figured if it stiffed also, he would resign from writing and continue his law career. The book at first got no traction but happened to make its way to Hollywood where it became a sensation and prompted a bidding war among three top studios before being sold to Paramount. With that success, the book then also was the subject of a publishing house auction and he was on his way.

Asked if he himself ever was in fear of the Mafia because of the exposé in the original of a law firm controlled by the mob, he said he wasn’t but that he had gotten a letter from the at that time Mafia godfather John Gotti who was in jail for life and “had plenty of time to read.” Gotti wrote that he really enjoyed the book but that the author “had gotten the parts on the mob all wrong.” Grisham said he wanted Tom Cruise to play the character—who is now aged 40—in the sequel since Cruise is over 60 but “doesn’t look a day over 30.” He said the character Mitch is inextricably linked to Cruise and even referred to the character once as “Tom.”

In The Girl in the Eagle’s Talon Lisbeth Salander grows up and becomes a mature activist. This year’s Quais du Polar showed that the crime film, long a staple of exposing graft and corruption, is growing up as well and taking on the steadily accumulating and disturbing problems of an ever more complex world.

_{We hope you appreciated this article. At People’s World, we believe news and information should be free and accessible to all, but we need your help. Our journalism is free of corporate influence and paywalls because we are totally reader-supported. Only you, our readers and supporters, make this possible. If you enjoy reading People’s World and the stories we bring you, please support our work by donating or becoming a monthly sustainer today. Thank you!}

_{Dennis Broe, a film, television and art critic, is also the author of the Harry Palmer LA Mysteries, the latest volume of which, The House That Buff Built, is about the real estate industry, dispossession, and appropriation in the shaping of “modern” Los Angeles.}

Byron and the ‘Satanic School’: On the bicentennial of his death / by Jenny Farrell

_{^{Joseph Denis Odevaere, Lord Byron on His Death-bed, ca. 1826, oil on canvas, Groeningemuseum (public domain)}}

_{Reposted from Peoples World}

George Gordon Lord Byron was born in London on January 22, 1788. His father, an officer, died when the boy was three years old. His mother, of Scottish descent, then moved with him to Aberdeen. In 1794, he inherited the title Baron Byron on the death of his great uncle and was titled Lord Byron in 1798. He attended Harrow and went on to study at Cambridge in 1805. Here he published his first volume of poetry, Hours of Idleness (1807), and his first satirical parody, “English Bards and Scotch Reviewers” (1809). After completing his studies, he traveled to Spain, Portugal, Greece, and Turkey, a journey which he describes in the first two cantos of his early great verse epic “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage” (1812) and which brought him overnight success.

Up until then, Sir Walter Scott had been the most successful author of “exotic” verse narratives. Now Byron shifted the setting of this type of tale from the Scottish past to the contemporary foreign East and adopted a more subjective perspective than Scott. Scott had developed the historical novel through his experience of great historical upheaval, writing novels that were based on real historical conflicts and class interests—in contrast to costume dramas. Byron extended this to the “Orient.”

Following several scandalous affairs, Byron married a rich heiress in 1815. However, the marriage was unhappy, and Lady Byron obtained a separation, accusing Byron of cruelty, madness, and an incestuous relationship with his half-sister. The scandal ruined his social and financial standing. He left England in April 1816 never to return. However, Byron did not only leave for private reasons. Despite personal arrogance and prejudices, the increasing misery and radicalism of the laborers in the countryside had not escaped his notice and had aroused his anger at the ruling classes, including the church and the urban bourgeoisie.

**_{Frontispiece of Lord Byron from an engraving after a drawing by G. H. Harlow, in ‘The Works of Lord Byron,’ 1901 (public domain)}**

In 1812, when the Frame-Work Bill was being debated in the House of Lords, which provided for the death penalty for the destruction of power looms, Byron made his famous maiden speech in defense of the Luddites. He argued to the Lords,

“These machines were to them an advantage, inasmuch as they superseded the necessity of employing a number of workmen, who were left in consequence to starve. By the adoption of one species of frame in particular, one man performed the work of many, and the superfluous laborers were thrown out of employment. Yet it is to be observed, that the work thus executed was inferior in quality, not marketable at home, and merely hurried over with a view to exportation.… In the foolishness of their hearts, they imagined that the maintenance and well doing of the industrious poor, were objects of greater consequence than the enrichment of a few individuals by any improvement in the implements of trade which threw the workmen out of employment, and rendered the laborer unworthy of his hire.”

He warned, “I have been in some of the most oppressed provinces of Turkey; but never, under the most despotic of infidel governments, did I behold such squalid wretchedness as I have seen since my return, in the very heart of a Christian country.”

Byron, like Shelley and Keats, became the victim of an aggressive smear campaign by state and church, which exercised enormous power over public opinion. Yet it was only after he had left Britain that Byron became increasingly politicized in the fight against oppression in England as well as on the European mainland. In this respect, he was also influenced by Shelley, with whom he remained in close contact for the rest of their lives.

**_{Sp!ros, photographer, 2022, A mural depicting Byron at Cacao Rocks, Psirri, Athens (Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license)}**

The impression made on Byron by Italian and Greek revolutionaries and, not least, his personal experiences of the wars of the suffering and fighting people, led to a new socially critical awareness, which was increasingly reflected in his poetry and motivated him to become personally involved in the Greek freedom struggle. He died in Greece at the age of thirty-six.

The reception of Byron’s work by the establishment tends to focus on personal aspects, often reducing his life and poetry to women, sex, “unnaturalness” and money, disregarding his political ideas. So how are his political convictions expressed in his work?

The Enlightenment poet Alexander Pope was much admired by Byron. Pope’s work reflects the rise of capitalism in Britain. He portrays the reality of 18th-century England as the best of all possible worlds. However, the revolutions of the late 18th century, the Industrial Revolution, and its impact on the lives of working people heralded a new time. This brought with it, in the eyes of the English bourgeoisie, the danger that their own people might model themselves on those of France.

So, Pope’s projection of a seemingly eternal, unchanging ground was torn from under their feet. Suddenly change was possible and was feared by the ruling class. It joined forces with the state church and together they began an unprecedented witch hunt against those pushing for change. This campaign, against all who were considered radical, unleashed among other things religious rhetoric, which is why the poet laureate Robert Southey accused Byron and Shelley of forming an “incest league” and a “Satanic school.” These intimidatory campaigns targeted the publishers to such an extent that they feared for their livelihood and freedom. So, Byron could no longer write like Pope. Society had changed fundamentally.

Byron’s first great success, the first two cantos of “Childe Harold,” initially reflected the prevailing European mood of world-weariness, a feeling of powerlessness in a hostile world, linked to motifs of loneliness and isolation. Other poems published in 1812 express a clearer political stance, for example, “An Ode to the Framers of the Frame Bill” (published March 2, 1812), in which Byron’s sympathy for the weavers is expressed, albeit he still believes that the parliamentary system can eliminate the grievances caused by individuals.

However, in the later cantos, this loneliness turns into a growing awareness of the alienation of the capitalist world. Melancholy and world-weariness can have their roots in historical and social ills. In addition, the aristocratic outlaw, Byron’s lonely, proud hero, takes a stand against oppression, particularly in countries struggling for national independence.

This changed with Napoleon’s defeat at the Battle of Waterloo (1815). After that, Byron advocated radical political change more clearly. It was now that the establishment turned vociferously against him, and in 1816, Byron separated from his wife and young daughter and went into exile.

Some of the poetry written this year still contains moments of gloom and escapism, but it also increasingly calls for resistance against the reactionary regimes in Europe. In the third canto of “Childe Harold,” the speaker searches more intensely for ways out of alienation, out of an oppressive existence. An escape into poetry or nature is ultimately rejected. In his poem “Prometheus” (1816), Byron emphasizes the need to resist tyranny, and in the fourth canto, stanza 98, of “Childe Harold” he writes:

Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,
Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind;
Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying,
The loudest still the Tempest leaves behind;
Thy tree hath lost its blossoms, and the rind,
Chopped by the axe, looks rough and little worth,
But the sap lasts,—and still the seed we find
Sown deep, even in the bosom of the North;
So shall a better spring less bitter fruit bring forth.

Byron’s close collaboration with Shelley in exile in Italy and his personal experience of the liberation movement in Italy and Greece led to a better understanding of society and the revolutionary struggle of the people. In these countries struggling for national independence, including also Poland, the Byronic hero was often seen as representing their quest for freedom and Byron became very well known and celebrated.

Between 1816 and his death in 1824, he composed a large number of great satirical dramatic poems, including “Manfred” (1817), the unfinished “Don Juan,” Cantos III and IV of “Childe Harold,” “Marino Faliero, Doge of Venice” (1821), “The Age of Bronze” (1823), and “The Deformed Transformed” (1824).

_{George R. Koronaios, photographer, Α 19th-century sculptural composition in Athens by Henri-Michel Chapu and Alexandre Falguière depicting Greece in the form of a female figure crowning Lord Byron (Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license)}

The final victory of the allied powers in 1815 led to a Holy Alliance under the rule of Catholic Austria, Orthodox Russia, and Protestant Prussia, whose declaration of principles was explicitly written in the name of the holy and indivisible Trinity and the divine Savior. Dissent, non-Christian religions, and natural religion were equally condemned. The reactionary forces persecuted anything that smelled of French freethought. In the context of English Romanticism, Coleridge’s turning away from his earlier radical positions logically also included turning away from pantheism.

In “Don Juan,” Byron postulates that poetry can replace Christianity with new ways of understanding the world, as John Keats did at the same time in “Ode to Psyche,” for example. Such a challenge was understood as blasphemy of colossal proportions. A parallel to this is Goethe’s “Walpurgisnacht” in his verse drama “Faust,” part I. Christianity is eliminated and art is given central importance. Postulating paganism as an alternative to the Christian religion was also deemed subversive. An inseparable part of this radical questioning of the existing Holy Alliance is the sensuality and this-worldliness inherent in ancient mythology. Sensuality is neither suppressed, spurned nor relegated to an afterlife.

Arising from his own experience of the national liberation movement in Italy, Byron’s point of view has clearly matured in “Marino Faliero” (1820). While the isolated, brooding hero was still at the center of “Manfred,” now a repressive power opposes the people. As the Doge Marino Faliero joins the people in their struggle, Byron plays out his own conflict here with regard to alliances. The fact that he considers alliances at all and moves away from an individual struggle is a significant change. From the outsider position of Manfred, Byron now moves in a direction in which the alliance is conceived as a struggle against his own class. The strength of the movement lies in the alliance:

Should one survive,
He would be dangerous as the whole; it is not
Their number, be it tens or thousands, but
The spirit of this Aristocracy
Which must be rooted out; and if there were
A single shoot of the old tree in life,
’Twould fasten in the soil, and spring again
To gloomy verdure and to bitter fruit.
Bertram, we must be firm!

The character of Israel Bertuccio has the most developed political awareness. He involves Marino Faliero in the conspiracy, plans, and leads its course. The Rebel Bertuccio comes from the people and embodies their strengths. He fights selflessly for the freedom of Venice and its people. Byron has come to recognize that the leaders of such a liberation movement can, perhaps even must, come from the people. It is Faliero who joins the people and recognizes their leadership role, and not the other way around.

In his new cantos of “Don Juan” Byron’s stories gain social significance, the dialectical relationship between the individual hero and the historical process emerge, and growing trust in the actions of the masses is felt:

50
But never mind;—“God save the king!” and kings!
For if he don’t, I doubt if men will longer—
I think I hear a little bird, who sings
The people by and by will be the stronger:
…—and the mob
At last fall sick of imitating Job.

51
At first it grumbles, then it swears, and then,
Like David, flings smooth pebbles ’gainst a giant;
At last it takes to weapons such as men
Snatch when despair makes human hearts less pliant.
Then comes “‘he tug of war;”—’twill come again,
I rather doubt; and I would fain say “fie on ’t,”
If I had not perceived that revolution
Alone can save the earth from hell’s pollution.

For all that, Byron ultimately leaves private property—the basis of capital—untouched. He sees liberal state reform as the way to improve society and create more humane living conditions for the population. However, in one of his last poems, “The Age of Bronze” (1823), it is expressed that the greed for profit of the large landowners played a devastating role in politics and especially in the Napoleonic Wars:

Behold these inglorious Cincinnati swarm,
Peasants of war, dictators of the court;
Their ploughshare was the sword in the hands of hirelings,
Their fields fertilised with the blood of other lands;
Safe in their barns, these Sabine farmers sent
Their brothers to battle—why, for rent!
Year after year they voted for cent. after cent.
Blood, sweat and tears devoured millions—why?—For the rent!
They roared, they dined, they drank, they swore
To die for England—then why live?—For the rent!

Peace has made a general malcontent
Of these honoured patriots; the war was torn!
Their love of country, millions, all misspent,
How to reconcile? By reconciling rent!
And will they not repay the borrowed treasures?
No: down with everything, and up with the rent!
Their happiness, their unhappiness, their health, their wealth, their joy or dissatisfaction,
Being, purpose, goal, religion—rent—rent—rent!

In January 1824, Byron traveled to Greece, where he planned to take part in the struggle for liberation from the Ottoman Empire. He died of a “fever” in Missolonghi on April 19 before this could happen. Nevertheless, he became a national hero in Greece, which he still is to this day. His name—pronounced Veeron in Greek—is a popular name for boys; even an entire district of Athens (Vyronas, Βύρωνας, older: Vyron Βύρων) is named after him.

_{Dr. Jenny Farrell is a lecturer and writer living in Galway, Ireland. Her main fields of interest are Irish and English poetry and the work of William Shakespeare. She is an associate editor of Culture Matters and also writes for Socialist Voice, the newspaper of the Communist Party of Ireland.}

‘God & Country’: New documentary examines the power and threat of Christian Nationalism / by Rob Boston

_{^{Image via PW}}

_{Reposted from the People’s World}

In February, a major documentary examining Christian Nationalism, God & Country, was released in select theaters nationwide. Directed by Dan Partland and produced by Rob Reiner, God & Country is based on Katherine Stewart’s 2019 book The Power Worshippers: Inside the Dangerous Rise of Religious Nationalism.

God & Country features interviews with two Americans United (AU) staff members—Church & State Editor Rob Boston and Vice President for Strategic Communications Andrew L. Seidel.

Other experts for the film include: the Rev. Dr. William Barber II, pastor and social justice advocate; Anthea Butler, chair of the Department of Religious Studies at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, author and expert on the threat of Christian Nationalism; Sister Simone Campbell, former executive director of NETWORK Lobby for Catholic Social Justice; David French, New York Times opinion columnist and former staff writer for National Review; Russell Moore, editor in chief of Christianity Today; the Rev. Rob Schenck, a former Christian Nationalist leader; Jemar Tisby, author and professor of history at Simmons College of Kentucky; and Andrew Whitehead, author and associate professor of sociology at Indiana University.

In press materials produced for the film, Partland discussed what inspired him to make God & Country.

“Trying to understand how so many well-meaning Americans could get swept up in this current wave of Christian Nationalism led me to make the film God & Country, a documentary examining the alliance that has developed between religion and American politics,” Partland said. “With God & Country, I want to draw attention to this dangerous moment in a way that respects the millions of Americans who are inadvertently subscribing to some subtle forms of Christian Nationalist belief. God & Country is a window into the pervasive problem driving conflict and division in today’s political and religious institutions. Ironically, Christian principles may offer the best way out.”

Reiner, an actor and director whose career in Hollywood spans decades, remarked, “It is said that when Benjamin Franklin walked out of Independence Hall in Philadelphia in 1787 and he was asked what had transpired at the Constitutional Convention—did we have a republic or a monarchy? He responded, ‘A Republic if you can keep it.’ Today we’re asking the same question. Not since the Civil War has our country been so divided. God & Country throws a spotlight on the role that Christian Nationalism has played in stoking that division.”

God & Country, which is being distributed by Oscilloscope Laboratories, was screened at the U.S. Capitol Visitors Center on Jan. 11. AU President and CEO Rachel Laser attended, along with Boston; Courtni Burleson, AU’s director of foundation relations and the Legal Academy; and Chelsea Collings, senior manager of donor relations and development operations.

For more information, visit the film’s website at godandcountrythemovie.com, where you can see a list of where the film is currently playing, or on the following social media platforms: Instagram: @godandcountrymovie; Facebook: @godandcountrymovie; X (formerly Twitter): @godcountrymovie.

*_{^{Partland: Exposing Christian Nationalism}}*

Partland discussed the film in a recent Q&A with AU’s Boston.

Boston: What is this film’s origin story?

Partland: I’ve been concerned about the increasingly polarized and dysfunctional state of our politics for some time now. As a filmmaker, I’m always looking to amplify important perspectives that aren’t getting the attention they deserve.

When producers approached me about making a film that would explore the current rise of religious nationalism in the U.S., I was skeptical; I felt like it was an important topic, but I would never want to do anything that would add more division to our already inflamed politics, and I feared this topic was too hot to handle. Knowing how sensitive it is to talk about faith, I didn’t want to risk offending people who are deeply devout by broaching the topic at all.

But the more I understood about it, the more I saw that Christian Nationalism proliferates precisely because Christian Nationalists want everyone to conflate their political agenda with the Christian faith. We have to stop that in its tracks. When they successfully confuse people into thinking that this political agenda is synonymous with Christian faith, they make that agenda off-limits to criticism. In a healthy society, no one’s political agenda can be beyond criticism.

What’s more, the idea that this political agenda is in any way connected to the Christian faith is obviously a complete farce. The more I learned about where this agenda really comes from and how deeply contrary it is to centuries of Christian teaching, the more it was apparent that the crisis in American Democracy was paralleled by an equally dire crisis in the American church. From that point on, the film proceeded with parallel goals: to put a spotlight on the ways in which Christian Nationalism is sowing division and violence in an effort to undermine our democracy and to put that same light on the ways in which Christian Nationalism distorts and misrepresents the Christian faith.

Boston: What do you hope viewers take away from ‘God & Country?’

**_{^{Jan. 6 insurrection: An event infused with Christian Nationalism}}**

Partland: This film is one of the toughest assignments I’ve ever taken on—so many things are difficult about it, but to begin with, just explaining what Christian Nationalism is, is a challenge! At minimum, I want audiences to leave the film with an understanding of what this phenomenon of White Christian Nationalism actually is, and that’s pretty hard to do!

If you are just listening to the words, the term “Christian Nationalism” sounds like it’s describing something that merges Christian values with love of country. It sounds completely benign and maybe even complimentary to any proud American Christian—but this couldn’t be further from the truth. It has nothing to do with Christian faith. Instead, it’s a political identity masquerading as faith, and it’s wholly un-American. But to understand the ways in which Christian Nationalism flies in the face of core Christian principles and core American principles requires a deeper dive into both American history and into Christian theology than most people are going do on their own.

So, the challenge of the film was to take the audience as deep into this complex terrain as possible in 90 minutes with the hope of starting a new discussion about the intersection of faith and politics in America—one that isn’t framed by antiquated debates about school prayer, abortion and the teaching of evolution. The new discussion we need to have is about how to renew our commitment to religious freedom for a modern, pluralistic country that is growing ever more diverse with each passing year. But first we need to get unstuck from predominant culture war framing.

To be clear, religious nationalist movements are on the rise around the world. It’s not just the U.S., and it’s not just Christianity. But religious nationalism does tend to be a majority faith seeking to become a privileged class of citizen under the law, and that’s inherently problematic in a democracy because you can’t have democracy when you have different classes of citizens—the fully empowered and the marginalized. That isn’t democratic.

In the United States, however, Christian Nationalism has an additional level of complexity that other Christian Nationalist movements don’t share: In the United States, there is a widespread belief among many American Christians that the United States itself has a special God-ordained role in human history, that the flourishing of the U.S. as a “Christian Nation” is part of God’s ultimate plan for humanity. With the overlay of this messianic role for the U.S. itself, Christian Nationalists have been able to justify the unimaginable paradox—that overthrowing American democracy may be the only way for America to be “saved” as a “Christian Nation.”

Boston: What did you learn while making ‘God & Country?’ Was there anything that surprised you?

**_{^{Jesus of Washington, D.C.? A Christian Nationalist flag on display}}**

Partland: Learned all of this and more! And so much was surprising. I had been familiar with the ’80s-era Religious Right in America, but in today’s siloed media environment, if you don’t make an effort, you will only be aware of what’s happening in your own community. After reading several great books on the modern Christian Nationalist movement, I then really immersed myself in that media ecosystem—wow, it’s hard to describe how massive and monolithic it is. It’s absolutely enormous, and we tried to show that in the film because you can’t really understand the challenge of confronting the political, social, cultural behemoth of White Christian Nationalism without understanding its scale.

The interesting thing that happened to me, and that will happen to anyone who really immerses themselves in this culture, is that you begin to see the world through the lens they are looking through. That confused me, then horrified me, and then, ultimately, I think, made me much more empathetic to the millions of good, well-intentioned Americans who have been swept up in this movement. They are just trying to be good Christians and good Americans, and their leadership is prescribing a very attractive path for that. It’s a path that puts all of the faithful in the role of defenders of their God and country, and it understands their fears and grievances against the rapidly changing modern world and affirms those fears. It reassures them that there is a path out of this moment of great political and social upheaval and that this path has been prescribed by God.

I have to be honest, the more I immersed myself in it, the more I felt the pull. I wasn’t pulled to believe in their political goals, but I was pulled toward thinking of the U.S. as a special place for Christians and an understanding of why they would feel an obligation to protect it for God.

From within the siloed information bubble that so many American Christians are living in, their worldview makes some sense. The problem is, that bubble is supported by a massive disinformation system that knowingly repeats untruths, as if on a loop, cross-referencing and quoting other sources of disinformation as ballast for each new falsehood it puts into the silo—and on and on.

Like so much disinformation, it all has a shred of truth to it. For instance, Christian Nationalists are focused on impeaching the concept of the United States’ commitment to a separation of church and state by saying that it isn’t in the Constitution. Well, the phrase “separation of church and state” is not in the Constitution; it came from a letter that Thomas Jefferson wrote to a Baptist Congregation in Danbury, Connecticut, in 1802 during his presidency, when he said that we built a “wall of separation between church and state.” So, the disinformation seems true because the phrase isn’t in the Constitution, but they neglect the real point, which is that the principle of having this separation very clearly is in the Constitution!

Boston: Christian Nationalists began attacking ‘God & Country’ even before it was released. They often insist that any criticism of their political agenda is an attack on their faith. How can we best respond to that?

Partland: The attacks have been horrific to see. They have also been revealing of the Christian Nationalist ethos and tactics. Christian Nationalist groups mobilized immediately upon release of the trailer, and they began attacking the filmmakers and all of the interviewees as being anti-Christian, trying to deny people their religious freedom. They also activated their counterparts in conservative media circles to publish stories with different strategies to discredit the film.

Did I mention that none of them have seen the film? It takes a deep and pervading dishonesty to mobilize a campaign to discredit a film and all of those associated with it when no one has ever seen this film. But that speaks to the fragile hold on power that Christian Nationalists feel—they need to crush dissent of any kind and not allow it to be heard, for fear that criticisms will undermine their advancing political power.

But the Christian Nationalists saved their most cruel and vitriolic personal attacks for the most prominent Christian voices in the film, making clear that any Christian who dares to depart from their political talking points will be similarly cast out of their community, will be regarded as an apostate to the faith and will have their very personal safety threatened. I’m struggling to hear the Christian principles at work in this—turning the other cheek? Doing unto others? Loving your neighbors? This is a movement that is as bereft of decency as it is of a Christian ethos.

I feel so deeply honored that so many brilliant and courageous Christian voices participated in this project, and I’m upset at the vitriol that has been leveled against them. I sought them out because I found their insights to be so essential to understanding this phenomenon, and they gave their time and their thoughts generously and out of deep commitment to both American democracy and their Christian faith. They are, all of them, heroes in my view, standing up for truth in the face of ugly and unfounded rage.

Boston: Other than watch the film, what do you think is the best thing Americans can do to oppose Christian Nationalism?

Partland: Honestly, I think that all Americans need to take the time to reconnect with our core American values. I know that has become hard to do in recent years, as the country is in the midst of a Great Reckoning—one that was long overdue, one where we reckon with our truly complicated history and all of the ways in which we have fallen short of our commitment to equality and justice over the years.

My concern is, in our collective zeal to acknowledge the mistakes of old, have we accidentally done some damage to the whole American experiment in the process? What I mean is, many Americans are no longer sure that we ever really believed in anything. That’s beyond tragic, and it’s costing us dearly. In the past we might shout, “That’s not who we are!” when we see Americans being openly hostile to different faiths. Now, people are reticent to make such declarations because they are unsure of who we are. Again, it’s terribly tragic because we really do stand for the ideals of truth and justice and equal rights under the law, and we always have, even when we’ve fallen short.

We’re great at religious liberty in this country. It was a founding principle for which we should be proud. As George Washington said, “The citizens of the United States of America have a right to applaud themselves for having given to mankind examples of an enlarged and liberal policy: a policy worthy of imitation.” And the world has imitated it, across the globe. He went on to say, “It is now no more that toleration is spoken of as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights…. the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens….”

Boston: Any final thoughts?

Partland: I told the producing team that if I were going to take this on, it was important to me that the film be a celebration of Christian faith and values, at the same time it was unmasking the idolatrous nature of Christian Nationalism. Without doing both, I thought the film would be unfair to the countless millions of deeply devout Christians who want nothing to do with this movement. Christianity has been such an immense source of goodness in the world. It’s fair for critics to point out the many times over the centuries that it has been co-opted to devastating and destructive ends—but that hardly obliterates the goodness it has also brought.

The trailer can be viewed here.

Reposted by permission from the original publication in Church & State Magazine, February 2024. Slight editorial changes have been made to conform to PW style and format.

_{Rob Boston is senior adviser and editor of Church & State, Americans United for Separation of Church and State’s monthly membership magazine. Boston is the author of four books, most recently, Taking Liberties: Why Religious Freedom Doesn’t Give You The Right To Tell Other People What To Do (Prometheus Books, 2014).}

An American Communist classical playlist: The Composers’ Collective on Spotify / by Taylor Dorrell

_{^{C.J. Atkins / People’s World}}

_{Reposted from the People’s World}

When reading through Aaron J. Leonard’s book, The Folk Singers and the Bureau, I was delighted to discover the single mention of a curious 1930s musical outfit: the Composers’ Collective of New York.

The collective consisted of a group of left-wing composers in the U.S. who, to varying degrees, wished to use their music to help the working class. “Members” of the collective, a term used loosely here, seeing as membership was not necessarily official, included famous and less-famous composers like Aaron Copland, Hans Eisler (who co-wrote Composing for the Films with Theodor Adorno), Earl Robinson, Elie Siegmeister, and Marc Blitzstein.

Grappling with what it meant to create “proletarian music” in the age of conflicting modernist and popular trends, they also debated how directly composers should be involved with politics.

Members of the collective produced a wide range of works, some reflecting the experimental modernist trends of the time, others blending jazz and folk, and a portion scoring popular plays and films.

**_{^{Marc Blitzstein in 1938. | Public Domain}}**

Their politics spanned from a more liberal-minded Aaron Copland, who, according to his HUAC testimony, didn’t consider himself to be a “political thinker,” to Earl Robinson and Marc Blitzstein, who were both card-carrying members of the Communist Party and referenced Communist classics in their works.

(Blitzstein translated the music for Brecht’s plays and contributed songs to the Lillian Hellman play Toys in the Attic while Robinson co-wrote “The House I Live in,” made famous by the Albert Maltz short film starring Frank Sinatra, and wrote “Ballad for Americans,” first performed by Paul Robeson.)

The collective itself was latter denounced as a “Communist Party front,” a label that is equally true and false—true in the sense that Communist Party members were spearheading it to a certain degree and untrue in the sense that a “front” implies a shallow opportunistic origin as opposed to a real desire for individuals to get together collectively and hash out issues they face (which those involved undoubtedly possessed).

I’ve compiled here a small Spotify playlist of some of my favorite songs from “members” of the curious Composers’ Collective—it’s telling that only a small collection even exists from each composer on Spotify. I hope artists will find some inspiration in their diverse attempts at taking on the political issues of their time.

COMPOSERS’ COLLECTIVE SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

_{Taylor Dorrell is a freelance writer and photographer, contributing writer at the Cleveland Review of Books, reporter at the Columbus Free Press, columnist at Matter News, and organizer in the Freelance Solidarity Project union. Dorrell is based in Columbus, Ohio.}

Women’s artistic narratives in times of war / by Jenny Farrell

_{^{Image via PW}}

_{Reposted from the People’s World}

From its outset, International Women’s Day was characterized by the fight for peace, against militarism and war. At the Second International Conference of Socialist Women in Copenhagen in 1910, resolutions concerning the “maintenance of peace” and the need “to combat internationally militarism and secure peace” were tabled in response to the growing threat of war.

Artists also addressed the issue of war—among them the outstanding German artist Käthe Kollwitz (1867–1945), celebrated for her versatility as a sculptor, graphic artist, and her remarkable woodcuts. Her work reflects a profound social and political awareness, capturing human emotions and suffering, particularly in the context of war and social injustices, with poignant resonance. Kollwitz, who lived through both world wars and lost her son in the first days of the First World War and her grandson in the second, created the woodcut cycle “War” in 1921-1922. Seven plates focus on central aspects of war: “The Victim,” “The Volunteers,” “The Parents,” “The Widow,” “The Widow II,” “The Mothers,” and “The People.” Here we will look at the plate “The Parents.”

Lacking the strength to stand, two kneeling, inseparable figures lean into and over each other in their darkest hour, in grief over the death of their child. The woman burrows deep into the crook of her husband’s arm, seeking support in him. Her face is not visible. He leans protectively over her and holds her sideways with his arm and hand. With his head pulled between his shoulders, he simultaneously leans on her and covers his face in desperation with his large right hand. Together, the devastated couple form a cone shape, an extreme shrinking into the most condensed form. The black color emphasizes their inexpressible pain, while the treatment of the wood creates contrasts—such as the horizontal lines of the man providing support with the more bent lines of the mother’s garments, whose back is the most heavily pounded part of the work. The dramatic contrast between the dark, solid shape and the light-colored background also heightens the effect. A key aspect of the composition is that the viewer does not see the faces; rather, the strong emotional impact emerges from the body language of the couple, which have all but merged into one. Their despair is deepened by the fact that it is not directed outwards, but very privately inwards. Viewers witness it but from the outside. Our humanity is challenged in the face of such pain, and looking at this work, we are still moved to the core.

There is a certain similarity in composition in the painting by the young Palestinian artist Malak Mattar, born in Gaza in 1999. In this painting, “We Have in This Earth What Makes Life Worth Living,” a mother wraps her arms protectively around her daughter, completely framing her face and upper body, creating a sense of profound security. She keeps her eyes closed and seems to be dreaming of peace: the sleeves of her blouse are decorated with white doves and colorful flowers. The child’s serious brown eyes are open and form a contrast to the mother, as does her dress, which differs slightly in color and shows motifs of olive branches with their elongated green leaves and small fruit. In addition to the fact that olive trees strongly associate with Palestine, the olive branch has been a symbol of peace since ancient Greece. Picasso’s dove also carries an olive branch in its beak. This picture contains both symbols, united in the longing for peace. The composition is framed by a wonderfully peaceful Mediterranean blue sky. The work expresses hope rather than despair, speaks of the deepest love between mother and child and thus affects the viewer emotionally.

Mattar processes her experience of war and counteracts it by using strong colors and conveying confidence. She has already experienced five wars in her life and says about the trauma of war: “It’s not something that can be let go of, shaken off; it seeps into you and becomes a part of you. How can you process something that has not ended? People don’t survive war, it affects your mental health.” The power emanating from the painting conveys the sense that the artist will continue to advocate for peace and justice in her homeland. More of her work can be seen here.

It is important to distinguish between wars of oppression and liberation wars, between imperialist invasion and resistance to it. Anti-imperialist wars create a different consciousness among the population. In early 1942, the artist Sofia Sergeyevna Uranova (1910-1988) was drafted and remained in her division until the end of the war, advancing with it to Germany. For her military valor, Uranova was awarded the Order of the Red Star as well as the medals “For the Liberation of Warsaw,” “For the Capture of Berlin,” and “For Victory over Germany.” She experienced shelling, bombing, suffering, and the death of friends. This everyday experience became the leitmotif of her art. Uranova left behind a unique artistic legacy. At the center of her paintings are people who are certain of their humanity in the face of an inhuman enemy, and confident of their ultimate triumph.

In this 1944 drawing of a field hospital, “Nurse on Duty” (in pencil below: “Babi Khutor, near Minsk, nurse Natasha”), the nurse, in the midst of the wounded, turns her tired gaze toward the viewer. For the moment, the patients are cared for. But all those depicted here will continue to fight, they are by no means discouraged but are gathering new strength.

The memory of the Great Patriotic War is still alive in Russia and the former Soviet republics today. Millions of their citizens still identify with their victory over German fascism. On 9 May, the date Russians celebrate as their VE Day, you can see the inscription right down to the smallest village: “No one will be forgotten! Nothing will be forgotten!”

The depictions by Vietnamese artists of their heroic liberation army radiate a similar pride. Here, too, women fought alongside men for their liberation, as Trịnh Kim Vinh (b.1932) depicted in her lithograph “Operation through the Jungle” (1973). Trịnh received awards for her role in the resistance and her contribution to the art of Vietnam. From 1964 to 1969, she studied art in Hanoi, focusing on women involved in the war effort. She completed postgraduate studies in lithography at the Dresden Academy of Fine Arts (1970-1973) and played a leading role at the Hanoi Art Academy for decades.

In this piece, Trịnh shows six fighters at night in the dense jungle, with others following from the thicket. The men carry heavy weapons, a woman in the foreground is characterized by her medical bag, another walks behind her. Viewers sense friendship and confidence. Trinh’s work was featured on a website recalling “the artists and their stories behind Vietnam’s wartime art.”

Wars often manifest themselves as sanctions and famine caused by the aggressor. The Irish people suffered such a holocaust in the mid-19th century when over a million people in Ireland starved to death while food was being exported from Ireland to England. This genocide was and remains a national trauma. One hundred years later, in 1946, the Irish artist Lilian Lucy Davidson (1879-1954) painted “Gorta,” the Irish word for “hunger.” Today “An Gorta Mór” (The Great Hunger) is the term for the famine, a colonial-style “ethnic cleansing” that continued to the WWII siege of Leningrad, and to Gaza today.

Davidson paints the burial of an infant in a style reminiscent of Kollwitz (see the sheet “Need” from the cycle “A Weavers’ Revolt” from 1893-94). The ragged, skeletal figures appear ghostly, close to starvation. Two women and a man are depicted. The woman holding the baby all wrapped up in a cloth, probably the mother or grandmother, looks down—the diagonal of her gaze goes over the child toward the spade with which the father is digging the tiny grave. Only the little feet emerge from the cloth. The woman on the other side of the man faces the viewer with her eyes closed as if she were blind. She may be the mother, perhaps out of her senses from hunger and despair. It is difficult to tell the age of the three adults, who have suffered too much. The composition is triangular, with the man’s head at the highest point in the center. He looks directly and unforgivingly at the viewer. Despite his great emaciation, he radiates strength, which runs diagonally from his raised elbow to the tip of his spade. The spade can quickly become a weapon. He will bury his child, but he will not forget anything and he will take revenge. As in Kollwitz, or in van Gogh’s work “The Potato Eaters” (1885), the wretched are in darkness. Davidson mainly uses brown earth tones and dark blue. However, the sky directly behind the figures remains bright and conveys a certain glimmer of hope. An insightful illustrated overview of Irish art about the Great Hunger can be read here.

What can art do? By engaging with these works of art, we as viewers relate what is depicted to our own experience. We feel our humanity, compassion and solidarity, anger, and the will to change the world.

Pan-African Film Festival: The disappearing Black farmers of America / by Ed Rampell

_{^{For anyone interested in all the details of Black-owned farms, this is the movie for them.}}

_{Reposted from the People’s World}

_{The 32nd Pan African Film & Arts Festival, America’s largest Black-themed filmfest, took place Feb. 7 – Feb. 19 in Los Angeles. During Black History Month, PAFF annually screens movies ranging from Hollywood studio productions to indies, foreign films, documentaries, low budget productions, shorts, etc. Films span the spectrum from Oscar nominees to hard-to-find gems from Africa, the Caribbean, America, and beyond that L.A. viewers are unlikely to be able to see at any other venue. People’s World culture correspondent Ed Rampell reviews just a few of the films audiences had an opportunity to see this year.}

Co-executive produced by TV weatherman Al Roker and Eternal Polk, Gaining Ground: The Fight for Black Land provides an in-depth look at African Americans and agriculture, from urban gardens to family farms and beyond.

The Polk-directed documentary’s cast of commentators includes row crop farmers, academics, landowners, attorneys, and more who have direct ties to tilling the soil and feeding us. Ground includes some refreshing perspectives and astonishing facts.

We have been conditioned to think that Black people provided the brawn to work on America’s plantations, but author/screenwriter Natalie Baszile, who has written for the Queen Sugar TV series directed by Ava DuVernay, asserts that Black Africans were enslaved and brought here to work the land because of their brains, filled with agricultural knowhow.

Row crop farmer Phillip Haynie III of Virginia’s legacy Hayne Farms and chairman of the board of the National Black Growers Council is a fount of fascinating stats. In 1920, there were one million Black farmers (who presumably owned land), but today, there are only 10,000. In 75 years, the number of acres owned by Black Americans dropped from 16 million to 2 million. The loss of generational wealth is calculated to be more than a third-of-a-trillion dollars for Black America.

What accounts for this dramatic decline? According to some of Ground’s interview subjects, including Shirley Sherrod (whose husband, Charles Sherrod, a Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee organizer and Civil Rights hero, who is glimpsed in archival footage), racism by white supremacists and government bureaucracies are among the culprits.

One interviewee asserts that prominent African Americans such as successful farmers were more likely to be lynched than Black men accused of acting “inappropriately” towards white women, as a way of keeping the you-know-who down. The U.S. Department of Agriculture, too, is criticized for double standards and practices biased against farmers of color, which resulted in class action lawsuits and more. Heirs’ Property is also one of the perpetrators this doc points at.

Gaining Ground is an award-winning, exhaustive chronicle of the history, plight, and current circumstances of Black farmers—to be sure, this is an important topic, which Raoul Peck also tackled in his latest documentary, Silver Dollar Road. But this lengthy film could have been titled Everything You Want to Know About Black Farmers (But Were Afraid to Ask), and those not particularly interested in the topic are likely to find this nonfiction film to be exhausting.

Polk seems like one of those directors who never heard of the word “Cut!”, as the same talking heads repetitively reappear to make the same or similar points, over and over again, and it becomes boring. For the general public, Ground grinds on and on, and this nonfiction film could stand to lose footage. A Dede Allen-like skilled editor should cut this 96-minute extravaganza down to about 45 minutes or so for the layman. Sometimes less is more.

A production of Al Roker Entertainment (the meteorologist has produced 40-plus movies—who knew?) and John Deere, the ag machinery manufacturer, have co-made what feels like a made-to-order, commissioned industrial film (albeit about an agricultural subject!) that doesn’t have any of the poetic grandeur of the Depression era, New Deal-produced 1936 and 1938 black and white classics helmed by Pare Lorentz, The Plow That Broke the Plains and The River.

On the other hand, anyone who is really interested in the issue of African Americans and agriculture will find Ground to be a thorough, essential primer on a subject which, as an interviewee states, is threatened with becoming extinct. Citing one of the film’s startling facts, Phillip Haynie III notes there are more bald eagles—a species threatened with extinction—than Black farmers owning 1,000 or more acres of land in the USA.

_{Ed Rampell is an LA-based film historian and critic, author of “Progressive Hollywood: A People’s Film History of the United States,” and co-author of “The Hawaii Movie and Television Book.” He has written for Variety, Television Quarterly, Cineaste, New Times L.A., and other publications. Rampell lived in Tahiti, Samoa, Hawaii, and Micronesia, reporting on the nuclear-free and independent Pacific and Hawaiian Sovereignty movements.}

Heaven divided: Fear and loathing in West Germany / by Taylor Dorrell

_{^{Scene from Wings of Desire}}

_{Reposted from the People’s World}

“Heaven is a large place,” one of heaven’s head clerks says in Mark Twain’s story, Extract from Captain Stormfield’s Visit to Heaven. “Large empires have many diverse customs.” In the short story, Stormfield accidentally arrives at the wrong heaven after racing a comet on the way to his final home. He must engage with a bureaucratic nightmare at the gate that’s “billions of leagues from the right one,” before getting to the gate for his solar system (the angels (clerks) at the first heaven are unaware of Earth and find it on a map listed as “the Wart”.

In Divided Heaven, a popular 1963 novel by East German writer Christa Wolf, lovers Rita and Manfred are separated between the two Germanies—Manfred moves to the West and Rita stays in the East. “But even if our land is divided, we still share the same heaven,” says Manfred. “No” Rita replies, “they first divided the heaven.”

Both stories highlight how our material conditions shape our images of other worlds, divided by customs, language, and daily life. As Twain put it, “I have traveled more than anyone else, and I have noticed that even the angels speak English with an accent.”

Dissolve the people

In the late 1980s, West German director Wim Wenders secured a meeting with the Minister of Culture of the German Democratic Republic (GDR/East Germany), Hans-Joachim Hoffmann, in anticipation of filming Wings of Desire.

One of the few Wenders films that had been shown in East Berlin up to that point was Paris, Texas, the chronicle of Travis, an alienated individual searching for his lost wife. While the motif was clearly critical of American capitalism, Wenders remained unwitting, claiming that the film was screened in the GDR because “for some reason they decided it was an anti-capitalist movie.”

Wenders hoped that his session with Hoffman could score an approval for Wings of Desire, too. Hoffman, while he’d been a fan of Paris, Texas, was not, as might be expected during the Cold War, keen on the idea of a scriptless film about angels who can move through walls. The movie failed to get the green-light to appear in GDR cinemas.

Frustrated by the decision of the cultural commissar, Wenders might have recalled the famous playwright Bertolt Brecht, who’d been critical of the GDR’s leadership in the 1950s. He became known by many in the West for a section of his sarcastic poem “Die Lösung” (“The Solution”), about the GDR’s response to the 1953 workers’ uprising:

“Would it not in that case
Be simpler for the government
To dissolve the people
And elect another?”

But Brecht and writers like Divided Heaven’s Wolf never mistook their internal qualms with bureaucracy for an endorsement of capitalism or anti-communism. Wolf was herself a member of the ruling Socialist Unity Party of Germany (SED), and Brecht formed the Berliner Ensemble in East Berlin, remaining an ardent Marxist after escaping Nazi Germany and McCarthyite America. They still believed wholeheartedly in a socialist future for Germany.

In the case of Wenders, it would seem he wanted to dissolve political people altogether and elect no one.

Mercedes-Benz suicide

The decaying, yet colorful, image-obsessed depiction of America in Paris, Texas couldn’t be further from Wenders’ Berlin. Wings of Desire depicts a West Berlin that more closely resembles stereotyped images of the socialist bloc, with gray buildings and anxious inhabitants. Wenders reverses this image, holding up a mirror to a capitalist dystopia rampant with homelessness, suicide, and rockstars singing about 17-year-olds. Even the circus is depressing. In a pivotal scene, a young man with headphones is sitting on a building with the Mercedes-Benz sign spinning above him before he jumps to his death.

In the film, two angels named Damiel and Cassiel have existed in Berlin since long before it was a city and up through the rule of the Nazis. But it’s not until 1987 in West Berlin that Damiel is inclined to give up his wings and become human, inspired by a conversation with the actor Peter Falk (Columbo), a former angel himself. When Columbo gives his monologue to Cassiel, however, Cassiel stays back and grins, apparently unswayed by the actor’s charming pitch. The implication is that Columbo can sense the presence of angels being a former one himself.

But a far more critical reading could be employed here: Columbo doesn’t sense angels at all; he was actually just a madman delivering a sales pitch for a pyramid scheme called life. Columbo, a man living on the capitalist side of the world and knowing his new angel recruits would be homeless and hungry, could convince these angels, who presumably have no desperate need for housing and food—an oft-overlooked staple of developed socialist countries—although it might seem like an overly economic-determinist view, is the real story of a divided Germany.

Lederhosen in the GDR

“For the first time I have a painful sense—not simply a rational one—of the tragedy of our two Germanies,” wrote the East German writer, Brigitte Reimann, after her brother moved to West Germany. “Torn families, opposition of brother and sister—what a literary subject! Why is nobody taking this up, why is no one writing a definitive book?”

She took it upon herself and wrote the 1963 novella, Siblings, a story mirroring her experience seeing her brother defect; Reimann followed Wolf and Brecht’s dual criticism of and support for a socialist Germany, telling personal stories of average workers and also organizing through Writers’ Union workshops like one at a lignite plant in Hoyerswerder.

Reimann and Wolf’s novels express, as Dr. Jenny Farrell noted, “women’s confidence in their social equality to an extent that is unparalleled in Western literature and society at that time.” Women’s equality is just one aspect of socialist culture that has been forgotten; another is the story of many defectors going to the East, including American soldier Victor Grossman, who escaped political persecution in the U.S. by swimming the Danube River.

Despite the torn Berlin in Wings of Desire, none of the color that’s so visible in the novels of the GDR translate into Wender’s politically innocent world. “Every person is a universe all by itself,” Wenders said in an interview. Heaven is divided. Wenders presents a capitalist dystopia that seduces the very bureaucrats of heaven (Cassiel gives in to becoming human in the second movie). Meanwhile, West Berliners in the early years would traverse the border to exploit the subsidized food prices—I recall a specific conversation with longtime labor organizer Scott Marshall who remembered visiting the GDR after the Wall went up and constantly running into American G.I.s who’d crossed into East Berlin to purchase lederhosen.

In a TikTok satirizing a tour through the DDR Museum, the tour guide describes the difficult conditions East Berliners witnessed: “They were given an apartment by the state and the apartment was very small. It was free, but it was very dark.” The video shows images of a spacious fully furnished apartment that, if it was located in Manhattan today, would likely sell for a million dollars. The fictional visitor promptly punches the guide. Grossman, the American defector, reflected himself that he only ever paid between 5%-10% of his income on rent in the GDR, which he contrasted to his hometown in the U.S. (even today, the U.S. considers housing affordable when 30% or less is spent on rent).

Much like Rita in Divided Heaven, Grossman, and Brecht, many are coming to a more nuanced understanding of the history and political project of building socialism, one that is imbued with criticism, yes, but also with a belief in moving past a self-destructing world of war and profits. Here is where Wenders and many Western films fall tragically short.

“The worst illiterate,” Brecht formulated, “is the political illiterate… He doesn’t know the cost of life, the price of the bean, of the fish, of the flour, of the rent, of the shoes, and of the medicine, all depends on political decisions.” That Wenders made films critical of capitalism appears to fall on his own deaf ears.

Wings of Desire shows that it’s not only easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism, but that it’s even harder to imagine a heaven after capitalism. One is left seriously questioning the character of angels who, after witnessing all of history, wait until the peak of capitalism in West Germany to check out. To quote Twain, “When I reflect upon the number of disagreeable people who I know have gone to a better world, I am moved to lead a different life.”

‘Killing It’: Before it kills us! / by Michael Berkowitz

_{Reposted from the People’s World}

One of the most trenchant recent critiques of late capitalism is Killing It, a droll television comedy show about killing Burmese pythons in the Florida Everglades.

Craig Foster is a solid believer in the American Dream. He aspires to become an entrepreneur. If he could only get a chance, Craig knows he would certainly become successful.

It would seem that the closest Craig Foster (comic actor Craig Robinson) would ever get to large sums of money would be his job as a bank security guard. But one afternoon, as Craig is trying to use his place of work to nail down a loan from the bank, his brother Isaiah robs that very bank. Craig fails to get the loan. Instead, he is fired.

Craig’s determined optimism seems undermined at every turn. He loses his apartment when he unwittingly sublets it to pornographers. He can’t even get to his next loan interview as his car is destroyed. Abandoning his car, he tries to use Uber to make his presentation. On the way, his Uber driver Jillian Glopp (Claudia O’Doherty) suddenly stops, jumps out of the car to kill a huge snake by the side of the road. Unfortunately, the snake is not dead and tries to devour him! Craig shows up at the interview covered with blood. Again he is unsuccessful.

Jillian tells Craig that she is supporting herself by killing invasive species snakes to win contest prize money. The desperately impoverished Jillian’s unflagging loyalty is a perfect match for the irrationally optimistic entrepreneur Craig. Jillian has been living in a sandwich board which she tows around behind her car. The already evicted Craig takes up residence in a 24 Fitness Center. Together they set out to achieve the reptile wrangling reward.

To enhance their quest, Craig and Jillian attend a get-rich-quick self-improvement conference. They discover that the main purpose of the conference is to make its sponsors rich at the expense of the participants. As they return to the snake hunt, they uncover illegal snake breeding, accidentally kill a friend, commit arson and are exploited by a family of Christian influencers.

The characters encountered, humorous set pieces, and all too familiar shakedown artists, have melded together to yield up a critically and popularly successful entertainment. Lead actors Craig Robinson and Claudia O’Doherty energetically render Craig and Jillian as painfully earnest, comically gullible consumers of failed schemes that systematically further impoverish them. Their good-hearted determination sets them as targets, exploited by a class system they are sorely ill-equipped to deal with. Could further education have led them to better choices? Would more regulation protect them? Why should they even be subject to the spirit-crushing machinations of vicious petty capitalists?

As Killing It mixes its pathos and comic romps through the travails of Craig and Jillian, we are forced to ask ourselves, Why should such a system even exist?! The Burmese pythons are not the only invasive species that should be eradicated.

Killing It is available on the Hulu platform. The trailer can be viewed here.

_{Michael Berkowitz, a veteran of the civil rights and anti-war movements, has been Land Use Planning Consultant to the government of China for many years. He taught Chinese and American History at the college level, worked with Eastern Kentucky Welfare Rights Org. with miners, and was an officer of SEIU.}

‘Cantoras’: A novel about Uruguayan women struggling for freedom / by Juliana Barnet

_{^{The Tupamaros of Uruguay via PW}}

_{Reposted from the People’s World}

Thanks to a recommendation from one of our indispensable public librarians, I discovered Uruguayan author Carolina de Robertis’s beautiful novel Cantoras. I recommend the author’s reading in Spanish for its liquid musicality, but it is also available in all formats in English.

Cantoras is set in Uruguay, beginning during the brutal dictatorship that ruled that country for twelve years, from June 1973 through 1985. “Cantoras” or “singers” sounds benign compared to many epithets flung at queer women, but it becomes immediately clear that in late 20th-century Uruguay, both during and after the dictatorship, this term, like the innocuous word “gay,” became a cruel label—though the women eventually reclaim it.

Much of the story takes place in and around a rundown dwelling the five main characters purchase together on the Uruguayan coast on the gorgeous, remote Cape Polonia. Against the backdrop of the cape’s wild seascape, they enjoy cooking, swimming, and chatting in the only place they feel able to be their full selves, both politically and sexually. Yet even there they are vulnerable to harsh reality, from internal dissension to depression, to violation by soldiers of the dictatorship.

Over 35 years, the women meet at Cabo Polonia to cook, eat, swim, and talk through their lives, as they face patriarchy, homophobia, dictatorship, stifling traditions, and, later, the bewildering changes of the 21st century. De Robertis portrays the five cantoras and their sometimes tumultuous relationships in exquisite detail, drawing us into their loves, struggles, and secrets, and giving us a fascinating picture of their central importance to each other as they face life’s challenges.

Portraying a revolutionary

My writing about fiction focuses on depictions of people engaged in the work of social transformation, people whose stories tend to be under- and misrepresented. Recognizing De Robertis’s skillful characterizations, descriptions of daily life, and historical authenticity, my review of Cantoras concentrates on its portrayal of activism.

Romina, one of the five point-of-view characters, is a wholehearted supporter of the struggle against the military dictatorship that took power in Uruguay in the 1973 military coup. Following her militant brother’s arrest, Romina becomes part of the clandestine resistance. It is through her experiences, including her harrowing two-week imprisonment, that we get the fullest picture of life as an active fighter against the brutal junta.

It’s interesting to note that the coup in Uruguay happened a couple of months prior to the much more widely known 1973 coup in Chile that installed the Pinochet dictatorship. Although I am fairly well informed about Latin American current events and history, I’d forgotten about the Uruguay coup. Cantoras allows us an up-close look at the scary, stifling atmosphere of daily life under this dictatorship, one of so many that pervaded Latin America in the 20th century—established and maintained with active U.S. support—even as the story focuses on the interrelations among the five women.

Romina rarely appears on the page engaged in activism. Nonetheless, her militancy looms large in her thoughts, enabling us to relive her experiences and identify with her struggles.

The dearth of social justice activists in mainstream fiction with whom we can identify and empathize makes De Robertis’s portrayal of Romina particularly valuable. She is a complex, relatable activist who deals with intersecting struggles as a lesbian, Jew, female, and only daughter in a family where the son was disappeared by the regime—all of which pull on her. Romina wants to involve herself more fully in the struggle against the dictatorship but feels torn because her parents are terrified the repressive apparatus will swallow her as it did her brother.

Particularly nuanced and poignant is the rendering of Romina’s guilt over having suffered less than many of her comrades: during her relatively brief imprisonment, she was raped by “sólo tres”—only three—goons, while other captive women suffered longer and even more horrifying brutalization.

With all the characters, we get a clear impression of the endless grind of living under the dictatorship, and the intense challenges they face as they attempt to pursue dignified lives as queer people—individually, in various combinations, and as a group.

Even though the world of the book is harsh, the story itself is a lively and beautiful portrayal of the women’s experiences as they pry open tiny but vital cracks in the massive wall of repression surrounding them, building a community together, gradually bringing in others, and supporting each other through many difficult circumstances, sharing love and adventure, as well as disappointment and conflict, with one another.

Queer activism in Cantoras

As soon as the political situation in Uruguay opens up in the mid-eighties, Paz, the youngest of the five friends, turns her Montevideo home, once a refuge for Tupamaro militants, into a gay gathering place called La Piedrita, the Pebble—a tribute to Stonewall—providing a new type of space for people to explore being themselves as a group coming out of deep shadows.

In the latter portion of the book, in 2013, we see the women marveling at, yet nonplussed by, recent changes in the situation of queer people. We see the cantoras navigating a much-improved situation while continuing to face past wounds and persisting struggles.

During the final moving scene, a secondary character, Diana, illuminates the central oppression that runs through all their struggles: being silenced. Their victory comes in finding their voices and the courage to use them.

Clearly, I am a fan of this book! Nonetheless, stereotyping of activists creeps in when we’re not looking. The author skates close to a couple of common stereotypes that commonly plague the portrayal of activists in fiction.

Paz’s mother, who hid female members of the revolutionary Tupamaros in her basement, is a weirdly awful mother, much less nice to her daughter than to the people she harbored. By the same token, Romina’s brother, jailed for over a decade by the dictatorship for his participation in the struggle to change the unjust sociopolitical system of his country, turns out, when finally located by his sister, to have a narrow-minded, patriarchal attitude toward her, pressuring her from prison to be a “good daughter” and refrain from politics. Later, he condemns her homosexuality.

Undoubtedly, there are activist mothers who have problematic relationships with their daughters and plenty of revolutionaries who struggle to accept newer forms of activism and who hold on to narrow views of morality.

The problem is that the “activist mother who fights to save the world and neglects her children” is a pervasive stereotype, going back at least to the film Mary Poppins, and reproduced countless times.

Just as common is the “hypocritical revolutionary, who preaches equality and justice, while practicing the opposite in his personal life.” The latter trope tends to stereotype male activists, while the former typecasts female ones.

Nowadays, carefully examining our word choices, tone, and other story elements to catch cultural, racial, gender, physical, and other stereotyping is becoming a required aspect of editing, since we’re now more conscious that the oppressive culture surrounding us imbues us with bias, like it or not.

The same way authors seek to counter bias in portrayals of women, people of the global majority, and other oppressed groups, I feel we must scrutinize our writing to avoid stereotyping activists. Why not create a militant mother who loves and supports her daughter, and find another way to give Paz the push she needs to leave home at an early age and hone her independent character, as the plot of Cantoras requires?

Why not have the communist brother be open-minded, as so many of his comrades clearly were and are? There’s no lack of ways the author could throw sexism and homophobia into Romina’s life, without assigning this role to the activist brother. This suggestion, by the way, applies to stories where sexism among activists is not a key focus. If the story is about the all too frequent real-life situation of women encountering sexism within activist organizations and movements, then we have the challenge of rendering it in a nuanced, authentic, humanizing way. An author’s imagination can find many ways to make the story work—this is one of fiction’s superpowers.

I very much appreciate Cantoras and other works that show, with nuance and authenticity, activists living their lives. I would respectfully suggest that, as authors of fiction featuring activists and social movements, we pay that extra bit of attention to root out characterizations that further stereotype and misrepresent our folks. Because activists in fiction are rare, the biggest misrepresentation being total erasure, it behooves us to refine the portrayals we offer.

We need to bring to life activist characters, whether central or secondary, who are each unique, complex, flawed, genuine, and engaging. We can have them do their work in the story while avoiding painting “typical” activists when in reality there is no such thing.

I applaud Carolina de Robertis and other authors who open windows into the authentic experiences of folks working for justice, peace, and planetary survival. And I urge them—and all of us who write fiction—to work towards portraying activists fully and fairly. Enlisting a few activist beta readers would be an excellent step in that direction.

_{Cantoras by Carolina De Robertis
Knopf, 2019; 336 pp.
isbn-10: 0525521690 ; isbn-13: 978-0525521693
Also available in Spanish, with the author reading her own text.}

_{^{This review is reposted by permission, with minor edits reflecting PW style and format. It appeared originally in Barnet’s}}_{^{Activist Explorer Newsletter}}_{^{, Sept. 30, 2023.}}

_Juliana_{Barnet – “Reflecting on life as an activist in the belly of the Beast and in the liberated zones we carve out to begin living the new world now.”}

Art is labor, so why aren’t musicians and other artists viewed as workers? / by John Pietaro

_{^{‘Revolutionary Artists Fight Against War and Fascism’: Members of the John Reed Club on the march in New York in 1934. | Smithsonian Institution / Louis Lozowick papers}}

_{Reposted from the People’s World}

rt is labor. It’s really that simple. Creative professionals have crafted their art into a career. While there’s no dispute that the work of musicians, writers, actors, and dancers as well as visual, film, and performance artists begins with visceral inspiration, our pride lies also in our success. Art is labor. It’s highly specialized, it requires countless hours, boundless energy, and visionary determination.

If art is work, why aren’t musicians and other artists viewed as workers?

Much of the problem lies in the oddly American concept that creative pursuits are but hobbies, perhaps side gigs at best. But another reason for this misconception can actually be found within artists: When we separate ourselves from other workers—and other unions—we can easily fall prey to the divisiveness that’s long been weaponized against the labor movement for well over a century.

**_{^{The Harlem Artists Guild marching on May Day 1934.}}**

The most radical years

Artists—cultural workers—of an earlier age came to understand the need for unity among all workers in the fight for fair wages, job security, and other factors of workplace justice. We can look to the radical years of the 1920s and particularly the ’30s as the performing and fine arts unions as well as “fraternal” and professional organizations of creatives grew in breadth, reach, and diversity, often carrying with them a stinging militant intensity.

The scope soon widened to encompass free speech, health and safety laws, racial justice, and women’s and immigrants’ equality, as well as the battle against child labor. Ultimately, labor’s agenda came to include sick leave, the 40-hour work week, vacation, holidays, benefits, pensions, the grievance and arbitration process, and of course the contracts negotiated to legally ensure all of this.

The Associated Musicians of Greater New York, American Federation of Musicians (AMF) Local 802, was founded in an act of rebellion at that time. It recognized the immediate need for a union built on racial equality and inclusion, as did the reconstructed Screenwriters Guild (now WGA), Screen Actors Guild, and Actors Equity, followed by the Guilds of Variety Artists and Musical Artists, among others.

Highly relevant to artists’ liberation were the left-wing organizations such as the national John Reed Club, a radical multi-arts grouping named for writer and journalist Reed, and its associated collectives. Among these were the Artists Union, the Workers Music League, and the esteemed Composers Collective of New York, which included Aaron Copland, Elie Siegmeister, Charles Lewis Seeger, Henry Cowell, Ruth Crawford, and Marc Blitzstein.

Other such vital organizations were the Harlem Artists Guild, the League of American Writers, and League of American Artists. These formal organizations had constitutions, held regular strategizing meetings, and staged important events. Most had their own journals as well, such as Art Front.

The boldness of cultural workers during those years is best exemplified by this quote from Charles Lewis Seeger, musicologist, founder of the Composers Collective, and the father of Pete Seeger, who, years later would be renowned for his own music of social change:

“We felt urgency in those days…. The social system is going to hell here. Music might be able to do something about it. Let’s see if we can try. We must try.” (“Unsung Songs of Protest: The Composers Collective of New York,” New York Folklore)

Today’s labor movement and the arts

The recent period has exemplified a new day of labor unrest in most every quarter, and strikes across the country have empowered the movement.

Among arts workers, this year we’ve witnessed a powerful campaign by the Writers Guild of America, sustaining a 148-day strike which ended in a historic victory. And SAG-AFTRA entered its negotiations brandishing a strike vote against the same AMPTP. SAG-AFTRA’s strike also resulted in another stunning win, following strong and tireless support from the arts unions as well as the wider movement.

The AFM, Actors Equity, IATSE, AGMA, AGVA and others within and beyond the entertainment and arts community, have stood by these union siblings all along.

Some of these trends began even earlier, as evidenced by the Local 802 members who are faculty at the New School’s School of Jazz and Contemporary Music. In militant support of our ACT-UAW co-workers, 802 refused to cross the picket line and engaged in multiple demonstrations of solidarity, marching, and playing music, in the streets of Greenwich Village.

Following ACT-UAW’s smashing success, our members saw the benefit of such mutual activism when our own negotiations committee demanded and won a contract of parity for the first time. And more recently, there was an outpouring of support for the actions of the New York City Ballet Orchestra. When faced with a seemingly insurmountable struggle, there’s nothing to compare with the sight of union comrades standing, marching, and chanting during multiple rallies.

In the current climate, with reactionary anti-union sentiment from the political right-wing, the business sector, and whole segments of governance, solidarity must become both mantra and mission.

The Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) and journalist, songwriter Ralph Chaplin in particular, coined the oft-heard phrase “Solidarity Forever” in his 1911 song of the same name. The IWW reinforced this with the lasting slogan “An injury to one is an injury to all,” the heart of solidarity itself.

^{_{This article originally appeared in the December 2023 issue of}}^_Allegro^{_{, the journal of AFM Local 802.}}

_{John Pietaro is Poet, Arts Journalist, Creative Writer, Spoken Word Artist. Works at Local 802 AFM. DJ, co-host Beneath the Underground at Sheena’s Jungle Room on WFMU. Staff Writer, Columnist, Critic at The NYC Jazz Record.}

‘Eileen’ review: A sharp thriller that boldly deconstructs the female protagonist / by Chauncey K. Robinson

_{^{Anne Hathaway and Thomasin McKenzie in ‘Eileen’}}

_{Reposted from the People’s World}

The new film Eileen is a good kind of weird. From the setting to the main characters, the thriller creates a quirky yet unrelenting world of unstable personalities and thick tension. The intimate movie masterfully presents an unlikely heroine, exposes her complexities, tears her apart, and then builds her back up in a new and haunting way. It’s a breath of fresh air in a film genre plagued by overdone clichés and paint-by-number plot twists.

Directed by William Oldroyd, Eileen is based on the novel of the same name written by Otessa Moshfegh. Taking place in 1960s Massachusetts, the film tells the story of a young woman named Eileen (Thomasin McKenzie) who works as a secretary at a juvenile detention facility. Living what she feels is a rather dull life, she soon meets the facility’s new psychiatrist, Rebecca (Anne Hathaway), who is glamorous and sophisticated. They strike up a friendship that eventually draws them into dangerous new territory.

What’s most compelling about Eileen is how, ultimately, it’s a story about how an oppressive society can be so suppressive to women as to drive them to various degrees of darkness. No one is precisely an upstanding character in the film. Some are even downright despicable to a degree. Still, in regards to the women, it’s clear that each of the paths they take is greatly influenced by the claustrophobic boxes of expectations that have been placed upon them in a patriarchal society.

Eileen is a young woman of so-called marrying age who is single, working in a prison as she cares for her alcoholic and verbally abusive father. It’s a thankless life as she’s been made to take on the role of caregiver since her mother passed away and her sister married and moved out. Eileen often escapes within her mind, thinking out mental (sometimes violent) scenarios that she doesn’t yet dare to carry out in real life. She’s not the stereotypical femme fatale but also not completely naïve and innocent. She exists in this grey area of awakening.

Eileen is sexual. She has desires, wants, and needs. It’s in this longing that she begins to find herself, even when it tiptoes in the arena of the taboo. Most human beings are complex, just like Eileen, yet far too often, female characters in media are relegated to neat boxes of either/or. The film boldly pushes against this and benefits significantly from this rebellious act.

Thomasin McKenzie displays all of these complexities within Eileen in a natural and gripping way. Even in some of the character’s more morally questionable moments, McKenzie performs with such a compelling vulnerability that the audience has no choice but to continue rooting for her. Her performance is complimented perfectly with the equally captivating portrayal of Eileen’s new obsession—Rebecca—played by Anne Hathaway.

Rebecca is a professional unmarried woman in a male-dominated world. Her confidence and sex appeal immediately draw Eileen in as the younger girl longs for something different than her current life. Together, they walk down a dark path that ends up being an exploration of self-realization and a condemnation of a society that often places women in impossible situations.

Hathaway delivers an alluring and layered performance. Her Rebecca is refined, but there’s something slightly fractured underneath her put-together facade. Hathaway manages to allow us a glimpse into those cracks honestly. She’s another grey character that some will feel compelled to place into the hero or villain category, but it can be argued that she exists in both.

Other themes explored deal with the corruption of authoritative figures and the confines of marriage and motherhood for women. Several scenes in the film will no doubt be uncomfortable, perhaps even triggering, for viewers. Thankfully, none of the heavy topics feel forced or gratuitous. The film never overstays its welcome, coming in at 97 minutes, giving just enough for audiences to mull over without being overwhelmed.

Since Eileen is marketed as a psychological thriller, some will watch it with certain expectations for its pacing and central plot. The film subverts many of these expectations and walks its own path. This subversion makes for a unique story that will have viewers thinking about the characters—and the ending—long after the credits have rolled.

_{Eileen will be released in theaters on December 1, 2023}

_{Chauncey K. Robinson is an award winning journalist and film critic. Born and raised in Newark, New Jersey, she has a strong love for storytelling and history. She believes narrative greatly influences the way we see the world, which is why she’s all about dissecting and analyzing stories and culture to help inform and empower the people.}

Activism for Cuba ramping up in Southern California / by Eric Gordon

_{^{Dayramir González}}

_{Posted in the Peoples World on September 1, 2023}

LOS ANGELES — The L.A. chapter of the U.S. Hands Off Cuba Committee (LAHOC) is gearing up for its fall calendar. A stunningly affecting concert performance on Sun., Aug. 27 in San Pedro, on the intimate stage of Alvas Showroom, was for many of those lucky enough to be attending that afternoon, their introduction to the work of this anti-imperialist group.

LAHOC’s mission focuses on three clear demands toward normalizing relations between the U.S. and Cuba: The removal of Cuba from the bogus list of State Sponsors of Terrorism (SSOT); the end of the blockade and the sanctions on trade and travel; and the return of the Guantánamo Naval Base to Cuba.

This concert was billed as a fundraiser for Medical Aid for Cuba—in the light of the pernicious, punitive blockade the U.S. has imposed on the island nation—and the final report was that the full house, standing room only, raised an impressive $2500 for Global Health Partners, the receiving agency.

The principal concert organizer was Angelica Cardona, with whom the Cuban trade union newspaper, Trabajadores, ran a full-page interview leading up to the performance. The two emcees were Guadalupe Cardona, president of La Raza Educators Association, and Mwezi Odom, an African People’s Socialist Party Defense Committee coordinator and a leader in LAHOC.

The main draw was the enormously talented young Afro-Cuban educator, pianist, and composer Dayramir González, multiple winner of Cubadisco awards for his 2007 debut album, and star of the Havana Jazz Festival, who came on after intermission. In the first part of the proceedings, the emcees greeted the audience with their gratitude for supporting LAHOC and its medical aid project. They introduced the drumming and dance ensemble Omo Aché, an Afro-Cuban cultural arts project featuring music and dance, based in San Diego. Omo Aché offered mesmerizing drumming and stories told in a women’s dance about enslaved and escaped African Cubans resisting Spanish colonial rule. An added highlight of this half was the solo male interpretation of the rumba, described as originally a display of virility meant both to ward off attack from other men and to show off as a means of courtship with women.

Dayramir González began his appearance with some timely remarks to the audience that came out to hear him. First, he reflected on his own musical education, growing up poor and Black in Cuba. Despite those factors, which in a country like the U.S. could spell severe limitations on a child’s exposure to music, to the right teachers, to parental ability to support a youngster’s interest in the arts, in Cuba he had every opportunity available to him. At the same time, Cuba is still a poor country with the heavy burden of the U.S. blockade around its neck. He shared the story of his brother who died of a rare cancer in his 20s a decade or so ago and speculated that perhaps, just maybe, a certain promising drug used in the U.S., if his brother could have gotten hold of it, might have saved his life.

After each number that he played, one of González’s two small children would walk over to the piano and give his papá a big hug. His wife and family were able to come to L.A. for this intimate performance. The pianist began his set with a 10- or 12-minute fantasy on Cuba’s famous song, “Guantanamera.” Although everyone in the audience was familiar with the tune, in González’s arrangement he seemed to guide his listeners on a journey through every phase of modern jazz, and even classical techniques, to expand and flesh out the iconic melody, elevating it, as Frederic Rzewski did with his variations on the Chilean revolutionary anthem “The People United Will Never Be Defeated!,” into an otherworldly realm.

González exploited the native Cuban repertoire in his reinterpretations of Ernesto Lecuona’s music, once again taking a well-known standard and remaking it in his own distinctive, inimitable image. I was unable to catch the names of all the numbers González included in his program, but he is known for his own compositions as well. The songs played in a compilation video (see below), are “Sencillez,” “Smiling,” “Camello Tropical in NY,” “Situaciones en 12/8,” “Blood Brothers,” and “La Teresita.” Some of these compositions are featured in his most recent album, The Grand Concourse, named for the thoroughfare that runs through The Bronx. He currently is based in New York.

At the end, he played one entrancing encore, then posed with his kids for photos. A grand time was had by all—and for a worthy cause!

An almost 7-minute-long video of González appearing at Grand Performances 2021 can be viewed here. Another video showing him at Grand Performances, Lincoln Center, Carnegie Hall, the Kennedy Center, and Havana’s Teatro Nacional, can be viewed here. Hear him speak about his life, his early mentors such as Chucho Valdéz and his education at the Berklee College of Music, other aspects of his career and art in this video. A search for his name will also bring up other videos of him in performance.

If you happen to be in or traveling to Spain, he’ll be appearing in Madrid Sept. 6, Barcelona Sept. 12-13, Eixample Sept. 13; also the Havana Jazz Festival Jan. 21-28, 2024, and in La Jolla (San Diego Calif.) on April 19.

_{^{At Alvas Showroom, August 27, 2023 (courtesy of LAHOC)}}

Remember, Readers, if it’s People’s World where you heard of him first! Of course, if you are a reader of The Wall Street Journal, you may have read their admission that “Mr. González is a stunningly gifted composer and arranger.” Downbeat and JazzTimes have reviewed him ecstatically.

LAHOC’s efforts do not go unrecognized. The chapter chair received a note of thanks from the CTC (Cuban Workers Central) International Affairs Director, Miguel Ángel, saying, “Excellent brother, together we can do more, in unity is strength. Success in everything you propose. Very grateful everyone for the actions you have managed to do in favor of the Cuban population and the trade union movement.” A congratulatory note came from Kenia Serrano, former North American ICAP director (Cuban Institute of Friendship with the Peoples), and from Global Health Partners director Bob Schwartz. In summation, Mickey Chavez, President of the Southern California District Council of the ILWU, said: “It was a great show, had a wonderful time. Keep up the good work and we will for sure continue supporting this great cause.”

Cubana 455

In its ongoing work, LAHOC will screen this newly edited documentary film on Sat., Sept. 30. It tells a compelling story that the world needs to know about. On October 6, 1976, a civilian flight, Cubana 455, was bombed in flight off the coast of Barbados, killing 73 civilians. This barbaric act happened 25 years before 9/11 and was the first terrorist act against a civilian airliner in flight.

This diverse coalition reexamines the sabotage and exposes what happened, who was behind the crime, and how the terrorists were treated favorably, especially by the U.S. government. LAHOC is screening Enrique Berumen García’s feature-length documentary Cubana 455: Chronicle of October 6 as an educational tool to create a U.S.-based movement which will support the observation of October 6 as an International Day Against Terrorism to honor all victims of terrorism around the world. The Caribbean region will have its first Day Against Terrorism this year on October 6.

Cubana 455 screens on Sept. 30 at 6 p.m. at Tia Chucha’s Centro Cultural & Bookstore, 12677 Glenoaks Blvd., Sylmar, CA 91342. For further information call (818) 939-3433 or contact: docuCubana455@gmail.com.

For further details go to: the U.S. Hands off Cuba website or email LA.US.Handsoffcuba@gmail.com. The Instagram account is: @ushandsoffcuba, and the WhatsApp and cell is (310) 350.7515.

_{We hope you appreciated this article. At People’s World, we believe news and information should be free and accessible to all, but we need your help. Our journalism is free of corporate influence and paywalls because we are totally reader-supported. Only you, our readers and supporters, make this possible. If you enjoy reading People’s World and the stories we bring you, please support our work by donating or becoming a monthly sustainer today. Thank you!}

_{Eric A. Gordon, People’s World Cultural Editor, wrote a biography of radical American composer Marc Blitzstein and co-authored composer Earl Robinson’s autobiography. He has received numerous awards for his People’s World writing from the International Labor Communications Association. He has translated all nine books of fiction by Manuel Tiago (pseudonym for Álvaro Cunhal) from Portuguese, available from International Publishers NY.}