Obey the road directions!

Last Thursday night was my first time trying to find Uncommon Grounds, a cute little coffee shop on Hennepin Ave in Minneapolis.  I’ve been there before, but have never driven… especially at night!  My paranoia that I past it and worry that someone would hit me controlled my thoughts as I drove down East Hennepin.  There were many intersections and many stop lights (most with “No left turn” and “One Way” signs above them).

“Found it!”  I exclaimed as I passed it.  ”I’ll just drive a little farther and turn around at the next light.”

I came up to the next light as it turned red, with blinker ready.  Once it turned green, I turned left onto a road next to a McDonald’s.  When I did, the person behind me beeped their horn at me.  ”How rude!  I didn’t do anything.”

That’s when I noticed that the only cars on that road were facing me!  I turned down a one way road in the city!  I was scared and quickly turned into the McDonald’s drive thru (the wrong way of course).

I turned around and found my way back to Uncommon Grounds and was relieved when I finally parked in front of a familiar place.

Have you ever driven down a one way without knowing it?  Wasn’t it frightening?!

–Jessica

By Bilal El Amine – Red Pepper

Hizbullah has pioneered a pragmatic and extremely flexible current within political Islam

It is no doubt commendable that Red Pepper has tried to tackle the thorny issue of political Islam and in particular the Iranian experience, a subject that is greatly misunderstood in the west, even in left circles. But unfortunately the discussion created more spark than substance. This can be attributed to both Alastair Crooke’s rather abstract philosophical approach that often clashes with the reality of events on the ground and Azar Majedi’s shrill response, which reduces the legacy of the Islamic revolution in Iran to ‘30 years of bloodshed, oppression, misogyny, gender apartheid, stoning and mutilation’. One wonders how it is that women in Iran make up 65 per cent of university students under such conditions.

The Iranian revolution and the Islamic Republic that emerged from it are complex, and often contradictory, developments that defy neatly packaged concepts coming from both left and right in the west. It is interesting how the far right and many on the radical left in Europe and the US see eye-to-eye when it comes to Islamist activism. Both view it as deeply reactionary (‘Islamo-fascists’ is a common epithet between the two), with the pat explanation that the only reason that Islamists enjoy such a large following in the Muslim world is because of their ability to either brainwash their followers with religion or buy them off with their vast charitable networks.

The reality is that political Islam has a long and rich history that stretches back over a century, inspiring a wide range of movements across an extremely diverse landscape that stretches from Indonesia to Morocco. Painting this broad movement with a single brush confuses more than it clarifies.

Deep roots in Lebanon

Take the case of Hizbullah, for example. This Shia Muslim resistance movement in Lebanon is often carelessly lumped in with the Islamic revolution in Iran and is rarely seen as an independent entity with its own history and struggle. No doubt there are deep and foundational links between the Islamic Republic and Hizbullah, and Tehran generously funds and supports the Lebanese resistance, but that does not make them one and the same. Nor can it be said that Hizbullah is simply an offshoot or subordinate of Iran. Perhaps the most dynamic and effective social protest movement in the Middle East today, Hizbullah cannot be understood nor fully appreciated from a progressive point of view outside of its Lebanese context and history.

A brief look at Hizbullah’s emergence in the early 1980s and its consequent development into a mass party confirms that it is a home-grown movement with deep roots in Lebanese society. Hizbullah is the culmination of a long, against-all-odds struggle waged by Lebanon’s Shia against a matrix of foes who conspired to keep them locked in a cycle of occupation, impoverishment and political marginalisation.

Long before anyone had heard of Khomeini, Lebanon’s Shia began to take matters into their own hands to fight for dignity and justice, at first within the context of the Arab nationalist (and even communist) movements and later through activist Shi’ism. The move from the former to the latter was a conscious choice for many as the Arab nationalists and the left simply failed to address the sources of Shia discontent.

The streams that fed into the creation of Hizbullah were diverse and not in any way limited to Iranian influence. Some came out of the Palestinian struggle and Lebanon’s many left organisations, while others were university students influenced by the Iraqi Al Da’wa party, and a significant group split from the Amal Movement (another Lebanese Shia party established in the early 1970s).

Ideologically, Hizbullah was heavily influenced by Sayyid Muhammad Hussein Fadlallah, a local cleric with a large following among Lebanon’s Shia, including a significant number of Hizbullah members. Mistakenly referred to as the ‘spiritual guide’ of Hizbullah (prompting an assassination attempt against him by the CIA in 1985), Fadlallah has a reputation for his liberal views on social issues and opposes the very idea of clerical rule.

Critical factor

The most critical factor in uniting these disparate forces was neither Khomeini’s influence nor Iran’s money, but Israel’s second occupation of southern Lebanon in the summer of 1982. It is simplistic to think that financial support alone can forge a capable and successful movement such as Hizbullah or even win its unswerving loyalty. The Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO) stopped being effective and lost all semblance of unity precisely when it became known as the ‘richest revolutionary movement in the world’.

Due largely to Hizbullah’s leadership over the past three decades, the Shia of Lebanon live with some semblance of dignity, liberated from Israeli occupation

It is also interesting to look at the experience of the Supreme Council for the Islamic Revolution in Iraq (SCIRI), a party of Iraqi Shia exiles founded on Iranian soil during the Iran-Iraq war. Even in such circumstances, Tehran was unable to mould the competing factions into a coherent party and today SCIRI is accused of cozying up to the US occupation in Iraq. From its inception, the overwhelming priority for Hizbullah was fighting the Israeli occupation, and resistance work in its broadest sense became the backbone of the party’s social and political work. The armed resistance is complemented by a comprehensive set of development and humanitarian institutions that are involved in all manner of activities, ranging from technical assistance to rural farmers to the recently opened high-tech cardiac centre serving the poor southern suburbs of Beirut.

These are classic social welfare agencies with an Islamist twist, such as the infrastructure and reconstruction engineering unit Jihad Al Bina, or the low-interest micro-credit agency Qard Al Hassan (among the largest in the region), or the extensive welfare agency Imdad, run largely by volunteers to assist the poor, among many others. The work of these organisations has profoundly transformed the lives of Hizbullah’s supporters.

Distinct paths

In the early heady days, as Hizbullah burst on the scene fired up by the Islamic revolution in Iran, the party’s founders (mainly clerics) could be accused of adopting uncompromising positions, such as calling for an Islamic revolution in Lebanon. But as early as 1985, before the party had even fully cohered, in one of its first public manifestos (known as the ‘Open Letter’), they were already qualifying their demands for an Islamic state, stating clearly that they didn’t intend to force their religion upon others.

With the end of the long civil war from 1975 to 1991, Hizbullah took further steps to accommodate itself with the Lebanese state and embarked on what is sometimes called a ‘Lebanonisation’ process by participating in the first post-war parliamentary election in 1992. Today, Hizbullah has ministers in the cabinet and has struck a durable alliance with Lebanon’s largest Christian party, something no one could have imagined even a few years ago. The party has also swept municipal elections where it has set an example of good governance – a concept barely known in Lebanon, where corruption reigns supreme.

The two distinct paths that the Iranian and Lebanese revolutionaries took only reflect the kinds of social forces that were involved and the terrain on which they operated. The differences in this case are stunning and naturally lead in very different directions.

The Shia of Lebanon entered the 20th century as a historically and structurally marginalised group that was dominated by feudal-like landowners and a compromised and conservative clergy. In Iran, Shi’ism had been a state religion for nearly 500 years and was almost synonymous with Iranian nationalism, which stretches back thousands of years. Iran’s clergy played a critical role in all of modern Iran’s major upheavals and, even in the darkest days of the last shah, they were respected, if not feared, by the authorities. Lebanon’s Shia may at best be a slight majority in their religiously diverse and divided country, while Iran’s Shia make up 90 per cent of the population, uniting many nationalities and ethnicities under its banner.

The opposite of fundamentalism
Context is critical when looking at Islamist movements, as appearances – and even the pronouncements of the activists themselves – can be deceiving. To judge and appraise Islamism based on its ideology alone misses these important details, particularly as Hizbullah has pioneered a pragmatic and extremely flexible current within political Islam that is increasingly being adopted by others, including Hamas and to a lesser extent the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood.

Given their revolutionary Islamist roots and the incredibly challenging Lebanese political terrain, Hizbullah has mastered the art of tactical flexibility while remaining grounded in its core principles. Such a method is the very opposite of ‘fundamentalism’, the blanket label so often used to describe all groups that weave politics and Islam together.

It is tragic that progressives in the west continue to paint such a one-sided picture of Islamist political practice and fail to see the liberatory aspects of the movement. Due largely to Hizbullah’s leadership over the past three decades, the Shia of Lebanon live with some semblance of dignity, liberated from Israeli occupation and terror, secure on their land, with a far brighter future than anyone could have predicted.

For this, and of course for its two defeats of the supposedly invincible Israeli army (in 2000 and 2006), the party is rewarded with the enthusiastic support of millions of Arabs and Muslims across the globe. Such a movement deserves the support and solidarity of those in the west who stand for a just world.

If the European and US left cannot accept the idea that the struggle for a better world can take many shapes and forms, then they are the true fundamentalists.

Collective Parenting for Collective Liberation

By Rahula Janowski

Although outright hostility towards parents and children in radical left spaces is uncommon, there is an undercurrent of hostility or at least ambivalence about parents and children in many radical movements in the US. Meanwhile, the radical left in the US is small, fractured, and struggling, and our communities of resistance are largely racially segregated, mono-generational, and unsustainable. One important way to build the strength of our communities of resistance, and through that build the strength of our movements for radical social change, is to develop multi-generational movement cultures that embrace and support parents, all kinds of families, and folks of all ages.

My daughter was born in November of 2002, and before that, I had been looking closely at how mothering and radical political activism and organizing intersected for several years. Growing up in a working class, counter-cultural community in rural Vermont, there was always a wide age-range of kids and youth running around at every event, every roof-raising, and every party. When I became involved in West coast anarchist communities in the early 1990’s, my experiences stood in stark contrast; children were rarely present in radical spaces, be it meetings, parties, or even demonstrations.

For almost a decade, I lived and engaged in political work in communities that were mostly white folks in our twenties, with an occasional teenager, a few folks of color, and a handful of people over 30. In these communities, it was assumed that when activists and organizers had children or got older, they dropped out of the movement because something about parenthood and aging made people less radical and less willing to step up.

Carrying lessons

In the years since the birth of my kid, I’ve managed to stay politically engaged as a result of a supportive partner and household, and as time goes on I’m meeting more politically radical folks with kids. In spite of that, one thing I’ve realized is that although becoming a parent doesn’t make people less radical, in many cases, the radical communities with which I am familiar are unintentionally pushing people with children out.

Since my experience is limited to the predominately white sectors of the anti-authoritarian, global justice/anti-war communities, my observations and conclusions may not be reflective of experiences in other communities. I know that around the world, parents and mothers in particular are often the driving force behind grassroots popular resistance campaigns and movements within cultures that are far more embracing of children than the dominant US culture. However, in the political communities I have been a part of, parents and mothers are hard pressed to be involved in radical change work. And when mothers are involved, often we must leave our children at home along with our identity as mothers.

I hear stories, mostly from mothers, over and over, stories of how difficult it is to get out of the house, never mind to a meeting. How demoralizing it is to not be able to do nearly as much political work as before parenthood, and then to experience the varying levels of hostility encountered in movement spaces when we do venture out with our kids, along with the level of incomprehension most of our activist/organizer friends have about the realities of parenting. Often, these stories are related in an apologetic tone, as if our inability to juggle the intense demands of parenting, often alongside paying work, with the demands of being a deeply involved member of a community of resistance is a personal flaw, rather than a failure of our communities.

This dynamic needs to change drastically, not only so that the movement isn’t constantly losing experienced, skilled, and committed people as they become parents, but also because mono-generational movements that do not include people in all stages of life will neither move nor win. We need communities that are strong, that can withstand difficult times and challenges, and that can nurture and support its members to continue the work. A community of resistance that is multi-generational will have a continuum of memory, will carry lessons from one generation to the next, and will be a base for strong multi-generational movements.

Long-term view

Everyone brings different things to movements. We each arrive at the work with our own individual history, which is shaped by our personal experience as well as by our communities’ collective histories. When people who are engaged in political work become parents, we find ourselves with less time to engage in the work. But for many of us, that comes along with an increased sense of the urgency and necessity for doing the work and some new perspectives.

Becoming a parent shook me from short-term thinking to a much longer-term orientation to the work and the world. I find myself thinking not only about how to raise my child so that she’ll be prepared for the world she is going to inherit, but also how to engage in social change work so that world will be a better place than it is now, and how to build movements that will be stronger as she and her cohorts become old enough to join them.

My housemate, Clare Bayard, who is deeply invested in Natasha’s life, speaks to how involvement with kids can have a similar effect for people who aren’t parents: “I have always appreciated the wisdom of a seven generations framework coming from First Nations people, but never truly internalized what it meant until Natasha was born.” Clare continues, “She gives me a real investment in the future of this world beyond my lifetime, and because I care what world her life will trace through, I am constantly pushed to unstick from short term fixes and think deeply about how the work we do today will impact the world for generations to come.”

Interaction with the next generation brings a sense of continuity and dynamic longevity to the struggle. Playing with and caring for young children inspires hope for the future. Having relationships with youth keeps us in touch with their fire and inspiration. There is also a consistent pattern of youth pushing the struggle forward—helping movements and organizations evolve, by bringing their energy and particular insights to the work.

When we involve parents and children in our activist and organizing spaces, when we incorporate the children as part of the fabric of our communities of resistance, we are raising the next generation of revolutionaries. There is an idea that the children of radicals will always rebel and grow up to be interminably right-wing, but there are many examples that show this idea to be false.

One example of children carrying forward their parents’ revolutionary politics is the story of Camillo Mejia. After serving 6 months in combat in Iraq, in 2004, Mejia applied for Conscientious Objector status, which was denied, and he was eventually court-martialed. In a March 2005 interview on Democracy Now!, Mejia discussed growing up in the Sandanista Revolution. He says, about the pressure to follow in his father’s revolutionary footsteps, “I just turned my back on it, because I wanted to find my own way, and I guess joining the military was the culmination of that.” He continues “…the state of rebellion was there somewhere, but you know, the right conditions were not given until I went to Iraq for me to actually hear that voice and say, ‘No’… So … that family background has finally kicked in and, you know, given me a new conscience.” Camilo Mejia continues to be a strong leader among soldiers and former soldiers speaking out against the war on Iraq, and is also raising a child of his own.

Prefigurative parenting

Many folks involved in social justice movements, whether they use this terminology or not, engage in the theory and practice of prefigurative politics—the idea that how we engage in our work for social change prefigures what the world we hope to create will look like. If we seek a world in which all people have equal access to the workings of society; where parents, children, elders, people of all generations are integrated into society and communities; where all children are safe, nurtured, able to live free of violence and oppression; and everyone is given all they need to grow into the fullest version possible of themselves, then a necessary step toward building that world is working to make these things true within our communities of resistance.

What we need within our communities of resistance is an approach to raising children that is also “prefigurative.” How we treat kids is a powerful force in shaping society. This idea should not be used as an excuse to blame society’s woes on individual parents or on individual parenting choices. Obviously, no one parents in a vacuum. A politicized prefigurative parenting involves moving our lens back, broadening our focus from placing sole responsibility for children on individual parents or individual families, to a community level, and even further, to a societal level. In addition to the various systems of oppression including white supremacy, patriarchy, and capitalism, each parent must function in the context of their dominant society’s approach to children—educational access or lack thereof, current thinking about child psychology, medical practices, and the influences of teachers, caregivers, and extended families.

Because beliefs and practices of the dominant culture are often carried over into communities committed to changing society, we must change our values and practices within our communities of resistance as we push outwards. It is not unusual or surprising that the attitudes toward children within our communities of resistance reflect the attitudes of the dominant society. This means that while there are many specific acts that folks can undertake to truly include families and kids, the larger need is for a different framework of beliefs and assumptions about families within our communities—a framework that assumes the involvement of parents, elders, youth, and children, and sees their absence as an indication of something seriously wrong that needs to be addressed. Many specific acts of support for parents and children within communities of resistance can play the dual role of offering concrete support while laying the groundwork for this shift in frameworks.

In order for this to happen, people who are not parents need to actively work to become aware of the parents in their midst, and also to examine closely their own feelings about kids and about kids in movement space. Parents can also be more assertive about finding allies within our movements and asking for what we need. Parents and non-parents need to learn more about what it can look like to be a multi-generational movement, and to look to movements outside of the dominant US culture for examples and leadership.

Shared responsibility

Although the predominant approach to children and families within white-dominated movements in the US is a hands off, slightly hostile approach, this is not true globally, or within some communities within the US, in particular communities of color. Mijo, a Korean American friend tells me of her experiences working with a large group of farmers from Korea in Seattle. “When the Koreans were here,” she said, “everyone—including people I’d just met, whose names I didn’t even know—felt equally free to swoop [her son] up and kiss him, run off out of my sight and play with him, yell at him if he was about to get run over by a bicycle, or swat his hand if he reached for something like a candle. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in US white culture.”

The approach to community hinted at in Mijo’s experience can and should be a goal for our communities of resistance—where taking responsibility for entertaining and protecting kids is assumed by everybody, where interacting with the younger members of the community is just as important as with senior members, and where kids are made to feel part of the space. As people in our communities have children, we should interact with the kids as though they are the people who will be carrying our struggles forward when we are no longer able to, and in that way, include them as part of the movement right from the start.

When a parent knows that her child is safe in political spaces, and knows that her comrades will look after the child, she is free to more actively engage in the work. When a child feels that they are part of the community and part of the work, their commitment to the community and to the work will stay with them into adulthood.

Providing formal childcare at political events has an enormous impact. Knowing that not only is your child welcome to attend the event, but that there will be something for them to do easily makes the difference between a parent attending or not attending. Childcare collectives discussed below are one model for providing childcare and organizations with a budget should consider paying someone to hang out with the kids. There does need to be a level of accountability around how the people who provide the childcare are chosen and supervised, because our communities are no safer than any other communities when it comes to adults who act inappropriately with children.

Sometimes, even if no childcare can be provided, having a basket of toys and an area set aside for parents and kids to hang out in is a great help. The desired shift in thinking is for organizers to make the assumption that some of the people who want to come to your event (or meeting, or demonstration, or conference) are parents, and that you want to actively encourage their participation. And when parents do show up with children, it makes a huge difference if they are greeted with warmth and welcome, rather than the frosty assumption that “that kid will disrupt the meeting.”

Childcare collectives

Recently there have been some efforts that are shifting community approaches to kids within movement spaces, such as childcare collectives, which are formations of political activists who provide childcare as an act of solidarity. The Bay Area Childcare Collective mission states: “We are committed to providing grassroots organizations and movements composed of and led by immigrant women, low-income women, and women of color with trained, competent, patient and politicized childcare providers for one-time events or ongoing meetings.” Believing that the people who are most directly affected by systems of oppression must be in the leadership of movements attempting to undo those systems, the Childcare Collective takes care of the children so the parents can do the work.

Participation in or developing a childcare collective is not only a way to provide direct support to parents in the movement, but also offers a lot to childcare providers. Josh Connor, one of the Bay Area Childcare Collective organizers explains, “Children and young people bring vitality and life to all of our movements and they are a reminder of what we are fighting for. They are often able to offer the most insightful perspectives that cut to the heart of important issues. Their questions challenge us to develop our own abilities to describe the world around us.”

Another option for sharing responsibility for child-raising is the childcare team model developed by Prairie Fire Organizing Committee (PFOC), an anti-imperialist organization from the 1970’s and 1980’s with links to the Weather Underground organization. PFOC had a strong feminist analysis and understood that valuing the participation and leadership of women meant that providing childcare on a consistent, regular basis was crucial. PFOC in the San Francisco Bay Area expected every member who was not a parent to be part of a childcare team for a parent in the organization who had kids, and these childcare teams in many cases continued to operate after the end of PFOC.

Currently some families with young children in the Bay Area have taken on an adaptation of this model, gathering a crew of adults from our political community who regularly spend time with our kids, forming relationships with them over time. Having this level of support is crucial for parents who remain engaged in political work, and it also works to weave the children more tightly into the community. When children at a political event know not only their parents, but have close relationships with other adults there, they will feel more a part of the community, other non-parents will see them as involved in the community, and we can begin to move away from the idea of children as distractions and nuisances.

All of these efforts, along with many other actions, support the building of a community of resistance that is inclusive of people of all ages and in all stages of life, contributing in part to the development of strong multi-racial, cross class, and multi-tendency movements that are strong and sustainable for the long-haul.

Rahula Janowski does anti-racism and anti-imperialist work with the Heads Up Collective in San Francisco, and is a mother to an amazing 4 year old.

This article was deeply influenced by the feedback from participants in the prefigurative parenting workshop, as well as the support of Praxis House and the Heads Up Collective, and through the deep and sometimes challenging conversations with the wise women at http://hellakittens.com.

Y’know something I hate?  When someone is stopped to turn left, and the car behind them almost goes around them on the shoulder.  Instead of just going around them and continuing with their day, (and letting ME go around as well) what they do is fade half onto the shoulder, and stop.

I mean…they’d fit if they went around.  Nothing bad would happen, but no, they fade right as if they’re going to go around…brakes on…and stop.  Then we all wait for the left-turner to complete their turn, and we move on.

Now personally, I just drive around.  I don’t even slow down much.  Maybe it’s scary or edgy or whatever, but I’ve been known to blow around a left-turner (given a paved shoulder, or even the dedicated go-around lane) at 60mph.  Heck, I know how wide my car is, and I know I’m not going to hit anything.  I will slow down to 45mph or so for gravel shoulders.

But what do these almost-go-arounders think?  Is it something like:

“Uh-oh…you’d better complete your turn, or I’ll go around you.  See?  I’m starting to fade over!  I’ll go around you!  I will!  I’ll do it!!  I swear to God I’ll go around you!  DON’T MAKE ME DO IT!  DON’T MAKE ME GO AROUND YOU!! I’M GOING TO GO AROUND YOU I’M NOT KIDDING I’LL DO IT WATCH ME DO IT DON’T MAKE GO AROUND YOU!!  AAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAA!!!“

Then the car turns, and the almost-go-arounder takes their foot off the brake and starts to move again.

Just makes me want to slap them.  Probably doesn’t bother anyone else.  Where’s the Tylenol?

The Pacific island nation of Samoa prepares to move traffic from the right to the left side of roads, a move that has angered many residents.
Cars are going to crash, people are going to die – not to mention the huge expense to our country

Source:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/8236773.stm

I’m a dilettante when it comes to politics. I gather my information through the secondary and tertiary sources provided by activist friends, just to make sure I’m at least aware of something going on. I’ve always been politically apathetic as causes big and small seem fiercely complicated to me. ‘Leave it to the pros’ I’d say – if such a thing should be said. Also, I’m terribly anti-social: something I would consider definite disbarment when pursuing social justice.

Well, I’m just making up excuses, so I’ll stop there. Wait, okay, I’ll make one more: My waning interest may be a cultural problem. I can’t remember the last time I saw a good film or read a good book that cast a constructive view of politics. I guess I’ve heard too many sob stories and saw too many invisible deaths to feel engaged. Yeah, sure, there are plenty of novels that cover the various plights of humanity with poise and heated introspection, but not so many that don’t rely on the graces of time to garner interest. Too bad it’s not the Thirties. This is where Takeover breaks down a little door in my senseless head and makes a stand against such apathy.

Last night I met up with my good friend Sasha Hammad from Left Turn Magazine to watch Skylight Films’ Takeover, a documentary about the Mayday 1990 national housing takeover. This effort was a coordinated campaign launched, started and enacted by homeless citizens. They decided to break into HUD-seized houses and declare themselves residents in their own nation. Many of these people had their homes seized by the HUD, and many of these homes were put back on auction without consideration for low-income families. It also comes to no surprise that many of these people still had jobs, but rising housing prices in urban areas pushed out those that didn’t make the economic cut.

Enough with the same swan-song about the homeless. Skylight Films captured the drive, tact and organizational power every American citizen possesses. A uproarious party replaced the pity party, where people of all walks of life used the skills given to them – and not solely by the powers that be: a majority of those involved used to be (and still were) working citizens who earned real-world skills. Takeovers required tactics: houses were assessed for habitation; participants set up groups to keep watch for federal marshals; and there was even a decoy set up during the New York takeover in which a park party distracted the NYPD, giving the takeover the lax police patrol needed to liberate homes.

Cities throughout the U.S. saw an underclass take what’s theirs using the tools they were given – not an easy feat to accomplish without strong, reliable sources of funding. It may be hard to believe such a campaign came to fruition with such little outside backing, but the need was demanding enough to release HUD-seized homes for many families across the nation. There are still takeovers enacted today, albeit a campaign more diluted after 19 years.

This documentary is definitely inspiring, especially here in the Bay Area where nonprofits are seeing a devastating funding blow. It has become a more radical climate to enact social change, but it may be the very awakening many groups need. I am definitely reaching, but this filmd serves as a hopeful portrayal of the power of passion, and reminds us that being stripped of comforts can force people to greater action.

Anyway, check out this documentary. Bruce Springsteen was a major financial contributor, so some of his songs slip into the soundtrack, but I guess I can let that slide. The film is pure gold, and works as a good stepping stone to learn more about a campaign that is truly grassroots, in every sense of the word. If interested in playing this movie at your next event, check out the link below.

http://skylightpictures.com/site/film_detail/takeover/

Also, come out to Modern Times for weekly documentaries covering a wide variety of social issues. It’s free, there’s popcorn, it’s on a Monday from seven to nine p.m., it’s worth it. Also, if you have any rad ideas (I don’t), send these friendly fellows an e-mail. As expected, they appreciate and love passionate and committed people, so feel free to voice yourself.

Another Review: http://www.mediarights.org/film/takeover

A Not-So-New Article About Housing Renovations & Tenant Displacement in Oakland (February): http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2009/02/18/18571825.php

Die Reflexion frisst ihre Kinder.

Der einfachste Trick, einen Raum optisch zu vergrößern, setzt auf die expansive Wirkung von Spiegelflächen. Nicht nur sorgt die allgemeine Lichtreflexion für mehr Helligkeit, sondern die Vortäuschung von Tiefe lässt vor allem auch dort vermeintliche Fläche entstehen, wo in Wahrheit keine ist. Als völlig gleichgültig erweist sich dabei, wie schnell man die Illusion entlarvt, denn der Effekt bleibt auch danach noch unvermindert bestehen. Kein Wunder also, dass sich ein derartiges Missverhältnis zwischen Oberfläche und Tiefe von jeher als wirksamer Auslöser für allerlei Aberglauben und Fantasterei anbietet, denn zu akzeptieren, dass dort kein Raum ist, wo es einen zu sehen gibt, ist für den Verstand schon eine ziemliche Zumutung. Als Tore zu anderen, parallelen oder jenseitigen Welten eignen sich Spiegel deshalb offenbar ganz besonders gut – und sind so ein gefundenes Fressen für heidnische Rituale, Schauermärchen und modernen Großstadthorror. Im letzteren Fall ist es in erster Linie die archaische Kraft des Reflexionsträgers, die für großes Unbehagen sorgt. Denn der Spiegel gehört zu den wenigen Artefakten, die unverändert alle Entwicklungen der Menschheit überstanden haben, und ist deshalb mit einem Hauch prähistorischer Mystik aufgeladen, der ihn im Verdacht stehen lässt, ein bedrohliches Geheimnis zu bergen, das jederzeit in der Lage wäre, mit Leichtigkeit den Rahmen zivilisatorischer Sicherheitssysteme zu sprengen. Nicht anders verhält es sich auch in diesem, über lange Strecken äußerst unheimlichen zweiten Spielfilm des britischen Modefotografen Sean Ellis. Doch „The Broken“ ist nur auf den ersten Blick ein Stück Twilight Zone.

Poe mag dem Film vorangestellt sein, doch der naheliegendere literarische Assoziationsträger ist der Natur der Sache gemäß eher Lewis Carrol. Seine Alice heißt hier Gina (Lena Headey), und als die unauffällige Radiologin eines Tages ihr Ebenbild an sich vorbeifahren sieht, gerät ihr Leben aus den Fugen. Schockiert und verwirrt verursacht sie einen schweren Autounfall und verliert Teile ihres Erinnerungsvermögens. Unbehaglich gerät das Zusammensein mit ihrem Lebensgefährten, Alpträume bestimmen ihren Schlaf. Ein Psychiater, den die Ärzte ihr an die Seite stellen, insistiert darauf, dass sie etwas in sich birgt, an das sie sich nicht erinnern will. Beunruhigende Dinge geschehen, und der Zuschauer weiß längst, dass etwas Unheimliches am Werk ist, von dem Gina nichts ahnt. Als sie schließlich begreift, ist es längst schon zu spät.

Die Geschichte fällt nicht sonderlich komplex aus und ließe sich noch einfacher zusammenfassen, wollte man einige ihrer Pointen vorwegnehmen. Doch selbst dann würde der Film selber wenig von seiner Wirkung verlieren. Denn oberflächlich mag er zwar aussehen wie ein Mystery-Thriller, der auf einen überraschenden Twist hinausläuft (was durchaus auch der Fall ist), in Wahrheit ist das aber nur sein Skelett, ohne das er sich nicht bewegen könnte. In erster Linie will „The Broken“ ein Lehrstück in atmosphärischer Dichte sein, unbehaglich, kalt und gemein. Vieles ist kalkuliert, vorhersehbar und bedient sich bewusst bei einschlägigen Vorbildern. Das jedoch gehört zur Methode, denn mit den Antizipationen des Zuschauers rechtfertigt der Film seine unterschwellig dauerpräsente Bedrohlichkeit. Die Crux dabei: Mehr zu wissen als die Figuren, heißt in diesem Fall zugleich auch, die unbedingte Ausweglosigkeit ihrer Lage zu kennen. Und so sitzt man völlig hilflos, sieht dabei zu, wie sich das Grauen langsam ausbreitet und versucht, einer emotionalen Bindung mit der Protagonistin zu entkommen. Ohne Erfolg, versteht sich.

Die unheimlichen Filme seine Kindheit habe er vor Augen gehabt, als er die Geschichte entwickelte, sagt Sean Ellis. Gerne hätte er Nicolas Roeg für einen Gastauftritt dabei gehabt, doch die Gelegenheit ergab sich nicht. „Don’t look now / Wenn die Gondeln Trauer tragen“ gehört jedenfalls ganz offensichtlich zu denjenigen Genre-Exemplaren, die merklichen Einfluss auf die finstere Doppelgänger-Geschichte ausgeübt haben. Bis zu einem gewissen Grad übernimmt Ellis gar die für Roeg typische Erzählstrategie der fragmentarischen Andeutung, die seine Figuren so unaufhaltsam in den Abgrund treibt. Vor allem aber ist es die ungemein wirkungsvolle Technik atmosphärischer Vorwegnahme, die „The Broken“ mit seinem großen Vorbild teilt.

Wie bei so vielen Seiteneinsteigern muss auch im Fall von Ellis wenig wundern, dass seine Annäherung an filmische Stoffe nicht unbedingt gängigen Konventionen folgt. Der Blick ist schlicht ein anderer, und auch das hat er mit Roeg gemein, der bereits knapp zwei Jahrzehnte in unterschiedlicher Funktion hinter der Filmkamera gestanden hatte, bevor er 1970 mit „Performance“ seine erste (Co-) Regiearbeit ablieferte. Lineares Erzählen sollte fortan nie sein Markenzeichen werden, und je geradliniger er einige seiner späteren Arbeiten anlegte, desto belangloser erschienen sie.

Ellis entwickelt Narration noch mehr als Roeg von jeher aus dem Einzelbild und erlernte früh die fotografische Kunst des Stillebens. Bevor er 2001 seinen ersten Kurzfilm produzierte, hatte er bereits eine immens erfolgreiche Karriere als Modefotograf, Musikvideo- und Werberegisseur vorzuweisen. Dunkler und filmischer als seine Kollegen war sein Stil dabei schon immer und etablierte ihn rasch als Marke. Sein Videoclip zu „Never Ever“ der All Saints gewann den Brit Award, und nicht von Ungefähr kollaborierte er ausgerechnet mit David Lynch an einer Fotostrecke für Harper´s Bazaar.

„Left Turn“, Ellis´ erster Gehversuch im Erzählkino, ist stilistisch nicht sonderlich weit von „The Broken“ entfernt. Eine Frau, die inmitten eines heftigen Unwetters eine vermummte Gestalt am Straßenrand aufsammelt und es bald schon (zurecht) mit der Angst zu tun bekommt – mehr braucht die knapp viertelstündige Geschichte nicht, denn ihre eigentliche Wirkkraft entfaltet sich im Wesentlichen hinter einer bedrohlichen Atmosphäre aus Nacht und Regen, die weitaus größer ist als der simple Plot selber. Strategisch klug dehnt Ellis die Exposition weiter aus als notwendig und legt damit eine falsche Fährte, die das Eindringen des Grauens in den zivilisatorisch behüteten Alltag der Figuren umso erschreckender und nachhaltiger geraten lässt – Stephen King verfährt in seinen besten Arbeiten nicht anders.

Im Grunde funktioniert „The Broken“ nach demselben Prinzip und ist in Wahrheit auch nur ein 90-minütiger Kurzfilm, eine verstörende Momentaufnahme, die Ellis lediglich auf der Zeitachse ein stückweit ausdehnt. So filmisch seine Fotografien zum Teil geraten, so fotografisch ist sein Kino. Ganz anders verhält es sich bei „Cashback“, jenem oscarprämierten Kurzfilm von 2004, den Ellis zwei Jahre später in ein abendfüllendes Feature überführte. Episodisch, luftig leicht, hell und romantisch kommt dieser filmische Tagtraum daher, und man ist versucht zu bezweifeln, dass hier wie dort derselbe Autor am Werk war.

Es ist nicht schwer, „The Broken“ als atmosphärisch dichte Variante seiner offensichtlichen Vorbilder zu begreifen, und es damit auch schon gut sein zu lassen. Beim zweiten Sehen tritt die Geschichte jedoch deutlicher in den Hintergrund und erweist sich als bloßes Mittel zum Zweck. Lange Schwarzblenden zeugen davon, dass es dem Film schwer fällt, aus seiner eigenen Trance wieder aufzuwachen und zur oberflächlichen Narration zurückzukehren. Seine losen Enden sind dabei weitaus verstörender als alles, was er explizit zeigt. Die Spiegel dieses großstädtischen Schauermärchens erweisen sich als schwarze Löcher, und sie machen sich alles zueigen, was in Form gewohnheitsmäßiger Realität Balance und Sicherheit zu bieten scheint. Die Reflexion frisst ihre Kinder.

Artikel © 2009 Thomas Lenz. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
Filmplakat: Koch Media GmbH
Fotos © Gaumont Distribution

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Sad to relate, a motorcyclist was killed in Elmont just before midnight on Wednesday, June 24, 2009.  According to the Long Island Press here, he was traveling west when he collided with into a sedan turning left (east to north) onto Plainfield Avenue.  This accident was also related in Saturday’s print edition of Newsday.  Of the approximately 133 fatalities reported on this blog, 23 have involved left turns.

Where are we?  I don’t recognize anything around here.  Wait let’s check our GPS device!  It says to take a right turn up here and then a left turn there and straight ahead for 1 mile and my destination is…  Just a thought.

Tuesday

PRaP 06-02-2009

“Maps”

I was looking at the maps of the Israelites from the time of Exodus and scanned over the Promised Land that God has given Israel and compared it to today the land that remains.  It is amazing how much of it has been taken from them.  One day though all the land originally promised will return to them.  It amazes me how so many people in such a small region of the world could want such a barren piece of real estate.  I know it is the holiest site on Earth but it will stay barren until God renews it.  Those who oppose Him will die and everything they have built will be laid to waste never to be seen again.  They will be removed as if they never existed in the first place.  I know as soon as Israel returns to the LORD these things will come to pass and when God says go it will happen faster than anyone could imagine.  Wars and rumors of war abound in the current world and things are being put in place for destruction and there are thousands of men calling themselves Messiah and yet they are nothing more than flesh.  Technology advances at a rate never before experienced and never will be again.  I challenge you to find these things I have mentioned in the Bible and pray about your part.  God has a road map for you to follow, are you on the right path?  Maybe He will program one of those GPS thingys for you and when it says right turn 50 ft ahead you will hear the voice of God.  If you do not have Christ in your life and He is not your Lord and Savior time is running out and today is the day of your Salvation through Jesus Christ.  Grace is only offered to the living.  Once you take your last breath the offer is no longer valid.  Null and void, expired, removed from the plate, no sale, refused, denied, and erased from opportunity.  So do not miss your chance.

James 4

Key Verse:

James 4:14
Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.
James 4:13-15 (in Context) James 4 (Whole Chapter)

Jesus Bless,

Pastor Steve

A motorcyclist traveling north on Grand Avenue, Baldwin, was killed at the intersection of Village Avenue.  A southbound car, making a left turn, struck the motorcycle.  The newsday.com story is here.