Street art and the rhetoric of hate: the unofficial propaganda for the controversial Romanian referendum on the redefinition of family

The context

On the 6^th and the 7^th of October 2018, Romania organized a referendum in an attempt to redefine the concept of family in the Constitution. Even though the civil law explicitly forbids same sex marriage, the conservative organization Coalition for the Family (Coaliția pentru familie) started in 2015 to gather the number of signatures the law requires (3 million) in order to organize a public consultation on this specific issue[1]: reformulating the constitutional article regarding the family, so as to replace the gender ambiguous term “spouses” with their traditional correspondents – “husband and wife”. The initiative was approved by the Constitutional Court in 2016 and by the Chamber of Deputies in 2017 and received the final approval from the Senate on September the 11th, 2018, with 107 votes for, 13 against and 7 abstentions, validating the proposal for the constitutional revision.

Not only would this definition have been discriminatory towards the LGBTQ community, but it would have also left out many other forms of communion which, in the opinion of the Coalition for the Family, do not reflect the realities of the “traditional family”, such as single-parent families or the situations in which children are raised by their grandparents (a common reality throughout Romania, as more and more adults go abroad, seeking better salaries and better working conditions).

The idea of a constitutional revision for this purpose has fractured the Romanian society, which has been divided between the supporters of this initiative and its opponents. The opposition was mirrored in the media, in the political debates, and on the streets of the big cities of Romania where manifestations and marches have been organized since 2016 to oppose or to support this initiative. Even the international community reacted differently to what was about to be the first Romanian civic initiative after the fall of communism in 1989. While organizations such as Amnesty International, the European Commission on Sexual Orientation and Law and even 33 members of the European Parliament declared their opposition to this constitutional revision and even petitioned Romanian senators to vote against it, other MPs welcomed the idea and asked for the organization of the referendum.

Despite the fact that the referendum failed on low vote turnout[2], the political parties supporting the initiative, as well as the Coalition for the Family, didn’t spare any effort or resource in order to persuade the voters to cast their ballot. Nicknamed “the referendum of hate” by those opposed to the idea, this initiative was backed up by the most aggressive propaganda Romania has witnessed in the recent years. Officially supported by traditional political parties, as well as by the Romanian Orthodox Church, the responsibility was nevertheless claimed by the Coalition for the Family, which essentially meant that the campaign for the referendum couldn’t follow the same pattern as the electoral campaigns, from financing to the promotional materials. Even though huge banners inviting citizens to vote “yes” invaded the big cities, raising concerns about the way authorizations were obtained and about the sponsorship behind this costly materials, the main way to catch people’s eye was through a strange and poorly understood “street art campaign”.

But what forms of street art were used? What were the messages transmitted through this “street art campaign”? How was this rhetoric of hate mirrored by it? How far did their arguments pro and against constitutional revision went?

 

Forms of street art

It is commonly acknowledged that “street art refers to stencils, stickers, and noncommercial images/posters that are affixed to surfaces and objects (e.g., mail boxes, garbage cans, street signs) where the owner of the property has NOT given permission to the author. Thus, at a bare minimum, in most countries because of its illegal nature, graffiti and street art are legally speaking considered acts of vandalism”[3]. Thus, given the ambiguity of the involvement of public authorities, the most convenient way of conquering the public space was through stickers, posters and flyers scattered around the city. If around the country, local orthodox churches and priests took over the propaganda, Bucharest is a more complex case study, given the sociological traits of the residing population. Younger, more educated, less prone to manipulation and more dynamic than any other one, Bucharest’s electorate had to be approached accordingly.

As Cedar Lewisohn pointed out, in the recent years, “graffiti and street art have followed the general tendency of the endless flow of information and constant “noise” of the world. Both can be seen as subversive forms of advertising”[4], triggering virtually the same reaction as shiny billboards and colorful banners at a subconscious level. This is how the homophobic and aggressive messages raised from the constant buzzing of the crowded cities. Vividly colored and accompanied by suggestive text and images, the stickers have come to cover street lights, trash bins, shops’ windows and walls, feeding off of the rhetoric of hate towards alterity and proposing a type of toxic unity aimed at the protection of the traditional values that are said to define the Romanian people and its culture.

 

Illustrated arguments in favor of the referendum

1. Unity

 

This year marks the centennial of modern Romania and the country has been subjected to a “rebranding” process. Slogans proposing unity and popularizing the sense of togetherness are now completing the image of public institutions. Interestingly, in the stickers shown above there is no logo representing the Coalition for the Family, as if we are talking about everybody’s initiative, a commonly accepted one that doesn’t need any further presentation.

2. Common-sense

The propaganda for the referendum portrays the initiative with the colors of a true revolution, the revolution of “common sense”.

3. Vote as civic duty

 

Moreover, the participation is encouraged by means of association with the myth of the Revolution of 1989, when people allegedly died for our right to vote. Therefore, casting one’s ballot means honoring the martyrs who sacrificed for us to build a powerful democracy on the grounds of the vanquished dictatorship. (left side)

A sticker, which reads “You said you care? Vote in the referendum!” conveniently placed next to another one that reads “Fuck PSD!” (the political party currently governing Romania), still fresh from the protests against the government which took place in August 2018[5]. (middle)

The right side sticker encourages us to “Write history! Come!”, in an attempt to emphasize the difference that our vote can make.

4. Preservation of Romania’s traditions and values versus decadence

 

According to the Coalition for the Family, a yes to referendum equals the preservation of the family, Orthodox faith and tradition: “For Romania, for the family, for faith, for tradition: vote yes on the 7^th of October!” (image on the left).

The right side sticker insolently asks what would you choose between the homosexual or the Romanian identity, as if the two were mutually exclusive. The “decadent” lifestyle of homosexual couples is hereby opposed to the purity of the sacred union between a man and a woman.

5. Political and sexual education

 

A poster showing the proper way to vote in the referendum: just choose “yes” (left image)

“Fasten it correctly! (In Romanian, this wordplay can also mean “have sex with whom you are designed to”) Vote yes!”

 

Paradoxically, one of the messages of the Coalition for the Family is “Do you feel discriminated against? Go out and vote!” (left side image).

“In other countries, pedophiles are asking for their rights. And you still don’t vote?”

6. Demonizing the adversary

 

If you don’t go to vote you are either a communist or a homosexual, as resulted from these messages.

We can find something appealing to any political sensibility as well! Here (left side image) we have a stencil associating the same sex marriage with Marxism or even communism. Following this rhetoric, we must understand that allowing same sex marriage will automatically carry us back to our communist roots.

The right side image represents a sticker suggesting that homosexuals are the only ones who are going to boycott the referendum, urging the people of good faith to go out and vote. In a political landscape devoured by electoral apathy[6], the refusal to participate during a public consultation acquires a whole new meaning- we are now talking about boycott, a conscious collective attitude, a means of participation though withdrawal, through a self-assumed silence.

7. Protect Romania’s children

Another very strong argument to which many of Romanians are sensitive to is related to children. Therefore, many banners, posters and stencils were exploiting this theme, encouraging people to go to vote in order to “ Protect Romania’s children! Come to the referendum. Let us be 6 000 000!” or as it appears in the above mentioned stencil, “save the children’s future!”

 

Illustrated arguments against the referendum

The counter campaign for the “referendum on normality” has been equally powerful and visible. Public figures have launched their own campaign: “You cannot vote on love!”[7] and an extremely poignant video based on “The Handmaid’s Tale”[8] has been released in order to raise awareness of the way this kind of camouflaged political interests can change our reality.     

“You cannot vote on love! On the 6^th-7^th October, stay at home!” (right side image)

 #boicot (#Boycott) and #stauacasa (#IStayAtHome) where used on social media during the counter-campaign.

“Marriage = two persons who love each other” (right side image)

 

The impossible dialogue

The debate in the mass media, or on social media was obviously an impossible dialogue, which was mirrored also by the street art.

“6^th-7^th of October go to vote” was countered by those who believed that you cannot vote on love.

An intervention on a pro-referendum banner stating “Hate and Disunion. 10.08.2018. We don’t forget! We don’t forgive!” is recalling another recent anti-government protest on August 10^th, 2018, which ended with a violent response from the police against peaceful protesters.

Few days later, the banner was taken down because it contained or reproduced the Romanian flag which, according to the Law 334/2006[9], was forbidden.

The choice of street as a medium for the propaganda in this specific case is by no means coincidental. An issue brought on the government’s agenda by the civil organization Coalition for the Family has slowly imposed itself on the public agenda as well, by invading the whole public space and concentrating all the attention of the targeted electorate. The anonymity of the messages is perhaps the most striking aspect of this ample choreography: even though everybody knows who claims the responsibility for the whole affair, nobody has publicly taken credit for these very creative slogans. The stickers have invaded every inch of public space available in the same way electoral posters cover the designated areas during the campaigns, with one significant difference: the latter miraculously disappear in the aftermath of the elections, while the former are here to stay for as long as we allow them to, filling the streets with the hatred and the shameful violence we’ve shown, as a permanent and painful memento of the way we lacked compassion when it was needed the most.

[1]„Hundreds injured in Romania protests as emigrants return to fight corruption”, The Guardian, 11.08.2018, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/aug/11/hundreds-injured-in-romania-protests-as-emigrants-return-to-fight-corruption

[2] Joe Sommerland, “Why is Romania holding a referendum on same-sex marriage and what might a ‘yes’ vote mean?”  The Indepenent, October 7th, 2018 – https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/same-sex-marriage-romania-legal-vote-gay-rights-lgbt-lesbian-civil-partnership-a8568031.html.

[3] Luiza Ilie, „Romanian constitutional ban on same sex marriage fails on low vote turnout”, Reuters, DATA https://www.reuters.com/article/us-romania-referendum/romanian-constitutional-ban-on-same-sex-marriage-fails-on-low-vote-turnout-idUSKCN1MH0XI .

[4] Jeffrey Ian Ross et al (eds.), Routledge Handbook of Graffiti and Street Art, Routledge, New York, 2016, p. 1.

[5] Cedar Lewisohn, Streetart – The Graffiti Revolution, LOC Tate Publishing, 2008, p. 92.

[6] As shown by the Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance (https://www.idea.int/data-tools/question-countries-view/521/252/ctr); Mihaela Mihai, “The Political Apathy of the Youngest Romanian Voters: Lessons to Be Learnt”,, Paper prepared for the Canadian Political Science Association Annual Conference, York, 1-3 June 2006 (https://www.cpsa-acsp.ca/papers-2006/Mihai.pdf)

[7] Adelina Mărăcine, „Mai multe vedete într-o campanie de boicit a referendumului” in Adevărul, 27.09.2018,  https://adevarul.ro/entertainment/celebritati/video-mai-multe-vedete-intr-o-campanie-boicot-referendumului-o-clasa-politica-corupta-nu-dreptul-decida-iubesc-1_5bac94c9df52022f75e68089/index.html

[8]„Children of the Referendum”, a counter campaign: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4C6f_HGn338

[9][1] Law 334/2006, art. 36, http://www.roaep.ro/legislatie/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/LEGE-Nr.-334-2006.pdf , accessed on October 22, 2018.

Irina Bădescu

Oana-Luiza Barbu

Religion in the Bucharest public space as seen by street art: an impossible dialogue?

They say that, in order to avoid an argument with a Romanian, you must forget about politics and sports as potential subjects for conversation. They think they know everything about it. I would add another sensitive topic: religion. And as any sensitive subject, has triggered lively debates, reflected also in the public space.

Let’s see why and how.

We shall start by saying that Romania is considered a secular state. However, in the Constitution, this fact it is not pointed out. In fact, in 2013, the independent MP Remus Cernea, supported by the president of the Parliamentary Commission for the revision of the Constitution, Crin Antonescu, proposed a constitutional amendment to introduce the word “secular” within the 1^st article (ph.3) of the Constitution (1). Their amendment was rejected. Those who assert the secularism of the Romanian state support their statement on the 29^th article (ph. 5) of the Constitution where it is stipulated that “religious cults are autonomous to the state and enjoy its support, including by facilitating religious assistance in the army, hospitals, prisons, shelters and orphanages” (2). On the other hand, the Secretary of State for Cults, Victor Opaschi, firmly stated the opposite: “the Romanian state is not a secular state, in the sense that many people wanted to be understood, namely of being totally disinterested in religion and even against religion. In religious terms, we are neutral, meaning that no cult is privileged, that we do not have a state church, and that all religious cults are equal before the law”(3). Therefore, the secularism of the Romanian state appears open to debate.

When it comes to what Romanians think about themselves from a religious point of view, things are more articulated. First, we need to mention that in Romania, according to the last census of 2011, 86.45% of the population was orthodox. But how many of them declare their religiosity? According to the Global Index for Religion and Atheism from 2012, 89% of Romanian respondents affirmed that they are religious persons. This puts Romania in the top 10 of the most religious countries in the world (5^th place), after Ghana, Nigeria, Armenia, Fiji and Macedonia, and the only European Union country that appears in this classification (4).

In the public space, religiosity appears everywhere, in the street, at the metro stations, as stencils, murals, or simply as writing.

Schitu Măgureanul Blvd, Bucharest, 2017

Victory Avenue, Bucharest, 2017

“Love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39), Bucharest, 2017

Religious guidance, Tineretului Metro Station, Bucharest, 2017

However, religious options don’t reflect the trust in the main religious institution – the Romanian Orthodox Church (BOR). At the beginning of the 1990s, the Romanian Orthodox Church was among the most trusted institutions, receiving more than 90% of the answers in its favour. This percentage can be explained as the expression of the freedom of religion that was denied during the communist regime. The last survey realized in September 2017 showed however the most diminished level of trust in the Romanian Orthodox Church since the fall of communism, of 50.6% (5). More than a crisis of religion, this result can be interpreted as an image crisis of the institution and of its leader, the Patriarch Daniel.

Edgar Quinet Street, Bucharest, 2017

The Patriarch Daniel, Independence Blvd., Bucharest 2017

The Patriarch Daniel, Bucharest, 2017

Another reason of discontent was the introduction of religion as a mandatory subject in the school curriculum. The debate was solved at the Constitutional Court who decided in 2014 that the articles of the Education Law 1/2011 that stipulated the above mentioned prevision were unconstitutional (6). Therefore, beginning with the academic year 2015-2016 religion became an optional subject.

“Religion in church, not in school”, Mihail Kogălniceanu Blvd., Bucharest, 2016

“Religions are fascist crime”, Bucharest, 2017

The construction of the People’s Redemption Cathedral was another reason to protest in the public space. The construction of this impressive building (120m long, 170m wide and 120m height) begun in 2011 and is supposed to end in 2018. By now, the estimated cost of the building is 80 million Euros. Despite the historical and utility arguments put forward by the Romanian Orthodox Church, Romanians are criticizing the important sums of money the Romanian Government is granting each year to support the construction and the laws that allowed it (7).

“Cathedral of the evicted”, Bucharest, 2017

The impossible dialogue concerning religious matters is reflected also in the public space. In March 2017, the Romanian Orthodox Church announced the organization of a national march to promote the values of the traditional christian family and to protest against abortion, called the March for Life. The event was the reason to revive old frictions.

“Romanian Orthodox Church – cash machine”, Tineretului Blvd., Bucharest, 2017

A few weeks later, the supporters of the Romanian Orthodox Church intervened over, erasing what was seen as an inadequate correlation between a sacred institution and money, the root of all evil.

Tineretului Blvd., Bucharest, 2017

This perceived impossibility to discuss religious matters and the state funds the Orthodox Church receives is reflected in different forms of street art, from stencils, to stickers, murals, or simple writing, in an attempt find a place to speak their minds without being censored. It seems it didn’t work out very well.

References

1) Definirea României ca stat laic, respinsă de Comisia de revizuire a Constituției, 29.05.2013, available https://www.agerpres.ro/politica/2013/05/29/definirea-romaniei-ca-stat-laic-respinsa-de-comisia-de-revizuire-a-constitutiei-16-43-42

2) Constituția României, available at http://www.cdep.ro/pls/dic/site.page?den=act2_1&par1=2#t2c2s0sba29

3) Victor Opaschi, secretarul de stat pentru Culte: Statul român nu e un stat laic, 17.07.2015, available at https://revistapresei.hotnews.ro/stiri-opinii_analize-20239840-victor-opaschi-secretarul-stat-pentru-culte-statul-roman-nu-stat-laic.htm

4) Global Index of Religion and Atheism, 2012, available at https://sidmennt.is/wp-content/uploads/Gallup-International-um-tr%C3%BA-og-tr%C3%BAleysi-2012.pdf

5) De ce a scăzut la 50% încrederea în Biserică, 19.10.2017, available at http://adevarul.ro/locale/constanta/de-scazut-50-increderea-biserica-romanii-inceput-perceapa-banul-nu-i-ochiul-dracului-ci-banul-e-ochiul-bisericii-1_59e878185ab6550cb846993f/index.html

6) De când nu mai e ora de religie obligatorie în școli, 27,01,2015, available at http://www.gandul.info/stiri/de-cand-nu-mai-e-ora-de-religie-obligatorie-in-scoli-ce-spune-ministrul-educatiei-13787908

7) Catedrala Mântuirii Neamului, ridicată în proporție de 70%, 06.04.2017, available at http://www.mediafax.ro/social/galerie-foto-reportaj-catedrala-mantuirii-neamului-ridicata-in-proportie-de-70-noutatea-in-loc-de-pictura-clasica-peretii-vor-fi-acoperiti-cu-mozaic-cand-va-fi-gata-intreaga-constructie-16224229

Oana Barbu

PhD Candidate, Faculty of Letters, University of Bucharest

 

Explaining “Basarabia e Romania” graffiti message

Imagine arriving in Romania as a tourist from a completely different part of the world: first thing you see as you enter the whimsical vibrating new city is a text planted on the side of a building by a graffiti artist quoting “Basarabia e Romania.” As you stroll along the crowded boulevards, you observe the recurency of the message. What could that mean, you wonder. Please allow me to shed some light.

The chronological timeline of when the message started popping out on the streets and buildings of Bucharest is somewhere in the early 2000s according to Romanian media. (i. Adevarul, 2015) It stands for a message of unification, posted in many public places of Bucharest and elsewhere to draw attention to the topic. Interestingly enough, the message was replicated in the Republic of Moldova as well, with the text “Aici e Romania” painted for public display in cities such as Chisinau. (ii. Vice, 2014) They are conveyed under anonymity, as graffiti unsigned messages are, but their messages run deep.

How do we as a society try to understand the message that the artists are trying to express? Is this a form of political activism? Most likely the answer is yes. We can tackle the subject by using two angles. First, we can concentrate on the motives of the authors -appropriating public space to raise awareness towards an idea that is political in its nature to engage the recepteurs to the content. Second, we can concentrate on the writing itself – a political message with a clear audience in mind, placed within a geopolitical context.

According to Betty Dobratz and Lisa K Welner, “graffiti with a political or social theme has the potential to foster political consciousness but this depends on the ability of the writers or artists to get their message across to viewers.” (iii. Sociology Compass, 2013) The movement is intrinsically related to a historical explanation. The message stands as the authors’ tool to promote the idea of reintegrating the two countries under a single administration, based on the borderline established in 1918. It is an idea which resonates with a certain category of people in Romania and Moldova, and which can be found occasionally in speeches delivered by politicians on both sides of the Prut river.

Would this message have the same impact if painted on a canvas and exposed for display in an art gallery? Would it impact people to similar extents if displayed in a march? Probably not. Graffiti artists painting walls, bridges, doors, windows etc. with the message “Basarabia e Romania” assume an opinion which like in other cases of street art (Sao Paulo, for instance) is controversial and has aesthetic urban implications. (iv. LSE Blogs, 2017) Prof. John Lennon argues that graffiti messages “transform physical space into contested sites as the walls’ declarations reflect the larger political discussions of the day.” (v. Cultural Studies Review, 2014)

The idea of reunification developed in various directions in post-communist Romanian society and one of the ways it persisted was appropriation by street artists, others include organized marches, associations, youth events, forums. The repetitivity of the message in many locations in Bucharest and other cities demonstrates an active interest into the topic. It is noteworthy to observe the process of how people take their sets of beliefs and make use of them in public and it is similarly interesting how a message in a country can engage forces into drawing a reply in another one.

References

[i] Ionescu, Sinziana, “Cine sunt baietii care umplu peretii cu “Basarabia e Romania”? Anonimicii care au scris pe ziduri mesajul unirii in Romania si dincolo de Prut, in Adevarul, 2015

[ii] Muravschi, Eugen, “Moldoveni, deci nu romani. In culisele razboiului graffiti din Chisinau” in Vice, 2013

[iii] Betty Dobratz, Lisa K. Waldner, “Graffiti as Contentious Political Participation”, in Sociology Compass, vol. 7/2013

[iv] Morrison, Chandra, “Graffiti vs. ‘the beautiful city’: urban policy and artistic resistance in Sao Paulo”, in LSE Blogs, 2017

[v] Lennon, John, “Assembling a Revolution. Graffiti, Cairo and the Arab Spring”, Cultural Studies Review, 2014

Ioana Abaseaca, MA in European Studies

Faculty of Political Science, University of Bucharest

Feminist voices in street art-Bucharest

It is said that art is the mirror of society, but art can also inspire society. This principle is the key when creating, interpreting and analyzing activist art such as street art.  Graffiti is one of the few spheres of life where the gender dimension can be easily hidden. As graffiti and street art are about written words and words can be genderless, the artist can hide his or her identity and express freely.

Street art and graffiti are generally considered as reserved exclusively to men. There is a small number of people who when looking at a graffiti are picturing that a woman did it during the night, in an empty, possible dangerous street. Men that do graffiti are brave, manly, rebellious persons that are eager to express themselves. Women that do graffiti are persons working to prove that they are not just “girls”, but they are artists with guts and resistance. [1]

Feminism covers a set of different social theories, moral philosophies, political ideas and movements drove by issues related to women’s causes and rights in the aim of creating more equal, inclusive, stronger societies.

Each society has its own way of visually expressing and treating its problems, especially in regard to feminist cases, which are, for some societies sensitive cases due to traditions and religion.[2]

Women street artists like Lady Pink, Claw & Miss17 were among the first ones to raise feminist voices in street art starting from New York City. The focus in their creation women as powerful and fantastic creatures and the fight against consumerism and big fashion brands that impose constraints for the way in which women are depicted. Others like Faith470 (South Africa), Jana Joana (Brasil), Shiro (Japan) and Miss Van (France) have focused on creating work that are inspiring and contribute to the emancipation of women from their communities as well as on overcoming prejudices related to sexuality, social status and religion.

When it comes to the Romanian case, there are  still  so  many  pressing  issues to solve and it might seem a far-fetched and even outrageous exercise in the eyes of those who are in charge of the “nation’s well -being”, as the gender issues here are related mostly to domestic violence, women’s rights, women’s representation in the public sphere and the equality of chances.

In Romania, one of the specifics of feminism is as Mihaela Miroiu has described it that:  ”feminism is a defensive and offensive reaction to misogyny” (Miroiu 2004:27). This perspective matches the reality of the walls of Bucharest on which different feminist messages have appeared in the last years.

 

Str Pitari Mosi, Bucharest 2017.

Str Pitari Mosi. Bucharest 2017.

The association between feminism and homosexuality is a prejudice present in the Romanian society. As feminism is reduced by some at “hate towards men“, the women that are feminists must automatically be part of the LGBTQ community. Another important aspect that can be noticed here is the usage of pink for the writing, because the traditional patriarchal mentalities say that “blue is for boys and pink is for girls“.

University Square, Bucharest, 2018.

As the public agenda it is not taking into account properly women’s issues and there is even a debate about whether feminism is real in Romania as a social-political movement, messages like this are insuring that “Feminism exists in Romania“.

Dacia Boulervard, Bucharest, 2017.

The Romanian society is a patriarchal society based on the principles of the Orthodox Church. As in the past years the debates about the need for a completely secular state have incresead, messages like this one are also more present:”God is a woman“.

Str Dianei, Bucharest, 2017.

According to a report issued by UN Women database, over 800 women were killed in domestic violence incidents between 2010-2017, in Romania. The laws on domestic are not strictly enforced – one year after the 2012 law, there had been 1.009 files for protection orders; only 23% ended in criminal proceedings as they were supposed to. Domestic violence is a huge issue for the women in Romania, and one can see this expressed on the walls as well. (No to violence against women).

 

Tineretului Park, Bucharest, 2016.

 

All around the world there is a pressure when it comes to the sexual and reproductive rights of women. Messages like “My body, my rights” have been promoted in Bucharest as well.

[1] Nicholas GANZ, Graffiti Woman-Graffiti and Street Art from Five Continents, HECATE, Bucharest, 2015.

[2]Zeinab NOUR, Reflections of Feminism in Contemporary Mural Painting between Occidental and Oriental societies, The International Conference : Cities’ Identity Through Architecture and Arts (CITAA), 2014, p. 2.

 

Marilena Veronica Ene, MA Comparative Politics

Faculty of Political Science, University of Bucharest

Street art and the art of protest: 1968 in France, 2017 in Romania

Freedom of expression has always been one of the key elements for the democratic development of societies. Taking it away from people only leads to the accumulation of anger and frustration, until they reach the boiling point. When the written word was censored and the information scarce and extremely biased, there was only one way to achieve common goals: taking to the streets.  As history taught us, numerous examples of such actions of people determined to achieve or defend their rights. From the great French Revolution of 1789 onward, they started making use of the public sphere and, more precisely, of the public places in order to make statements that would otherwise go unnoticed. The authorities may have silenced them with nightsticks and bullets, but at least their goal was achieved: they have been heard.

Dan Perjovschi, Freedom of Expression 

Later on, people found other ways of eluding the censorship or the intentional omission of the most ardent social subjects by the state-owned media. Even if the culture of protest has never been abandoned (people still gather in the streets in the most sensitive or tense moments), starting with the 20^th century, it has gained an important and unignorable ally: art itself, along with the artists creating it.

Throughout the years, political claims and issues have been reflected in the work of numerous acknowledged or anonymous artists, as a part of the link between arts and politics. In this article, I will leave aside the question of institutionalized art and I will concentrate on the one happening on the streets, analyzing the relationship between street art and politics during moments of political and social tension through the study of the politically themed graffiti in France (May 1968), and in nowadays Bucharest (after the mass protests against corruption of January-February 2017).

Graffiti as a means of political expression have a longstanding tradition. They are one of the preferred vehicles of extra-parliamentary political comments: graffiti provide a means of expression, a means to be heard immediately, without authorization, without the need for clear definition or a pre-formed consensus. (Johannes Stahl, 2013: 67-68[i])

Auguste Bouquet, Voulez Vous faire vos ordures plus loin, polissons!, Lithography in: La Caricature ,vol 17.1.1833

Taking into account the French case, we can trace the relationship between the writings on the walls and the urgent need for a medium of free speech up to the period of the July Monarchy of Louis Philippe I. When the king formally forbade the caricatures and the pamphlets directed against him in the French press, people turned to the streets, drawing the face of the monarch in a pear-like figure all over the Parisian walls (Johannes Stahl, 2013: 65). Later on, during the German occupation of the Northern France and the Vichy regime, the Hungarian-French photographer Brassaï captured the Lorraine cross, sign of the resistance to the collaboration with the Nazis, painted on the walls.

Untitled, from the Graffiti [Le langage du mur] series, 1945-1955, Collection Centre Pompidou, musée national d’art moderne, Paris. © Estate Brassaï – RMN-Grand Palais © Centre PompidouDist. RMN-GP Adam Rzepka

In the ‘60s, when artists rediscovered their political voice, choosing to place their art at the center of the most important debates and social events, the trend was in favor of political contestation, whether we talk about social rights, the government’s decisions at large or about the Vietnam War (Claudia Mesch, 2013: 7[ii]). In a world suffocated by the consumerist tendencies, traumatized by conformity, young artists pleaded for the recovery of the quality of ultimate space of liberty of expression and manifestation by the work of art. For the first time, political engagement came to be understood differently, giving rise to the famous phrase “the personal is political”. This explains why streets were taken by assault and walls were flourishing with writings and paintings.

Street art, in an early form, gained momentum in 1968, when students started striking against the government’s decision to close the University of Nanterre, as a consequence of an earlier protest against the war in Vietnam. As the social movement came to attract more and more adherents, students and workers from all fields, messages expressing people’s displeasure with the conservatism of the De Gaulle regime and with the intellectual and cultural conditions existing at that time appeared everywhere with untamable vigor. One of the main claims was that of liberating speech (libérer la parole), also elaborated in an interview between the philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre and on of the leaders of the movement of the 22^nd of March, which sparked the events that followed. The slogan L’imagination au pouvoir, omnipresent around Paris (Jacques Guilhaumou, 2010: 168[iii]), raised awareness of the fact that state-controlled media suffocated all individual initiative, by also rebelling against the extreme authority of the regime, displayed mainly through the frequent interventions of the CRS (Compagnies Républicaines de Sécurité).

The walls used to have ears. Now they make a stand.

 

What people used to write on the walls was being turned into posters by the dissident artists working for the clandestine Atelier Populaire in no time. As Jacques Guilhaumou, a historian who happened to be studying at the University of Nanterre when the protests occurred, put it in his recollection of the events, while also citing Jacques Ranciere, it was all about not leaving any available bit of space unoccupied, nor any bit of time. This was why students had begun writing their griefs all around the University and Paris in general long before the students of the School of Fine Arts started transforming them into posters carried around by all the protesters. Guilhaumou links this phenomenon to the modern arsenal of revolutionary practices and gestures, tying it to the claim for a less mediated democracy fueled by the untiring and utopian élan of the social actors. The purpose of these writings on the walls was to get as close as possible to the core of everybody’s discontent, while appealing to the rawest emotions of the passers-by.

Vaugirard Avenue, Paris, France, 1968. Henri Cartier-Bresson

Slogans such as It is forbidden to forbid, To enjoy without hindrance or There is poetry in the streets passed on the message that the free spirit of the civil society could no longer be contained by the policies of the government or by the laws. Some kind of parallel state, thirsty for reform and modernization was formed, in a collective attempt to transform the world in order to change the life (as proclaimed by the Situationist Manifesto), by means of voluntary action and direct involvement of the concerned citizens. The political idea of free speech on public walls, as well as the practice of conceptual art, which had been established in the 1960s, have led artists to experiment with the combination of words and action. (Johannes Stahl, 2013: 113) The importance of the political graffiti of these times, which gives an idea of what l’esprit de mai means, is underlined by Philippe Rassaert and Michelle Zancarini-Fournel, in their article on Lyon’s “graffiti museum” (Philippe Rassaert & Michelle Zancarini-Fournel, 2009: 61-78[iv]), an anti-monument we must at all costs protect, since it contains a new kind of historiographical source necessary for the analysis of modern-time historical events.

It is forbidden to forbid

In 2017, Romanian people united in order to protest against a previous decision of the social-democratic Minister of Justice to loosen up the legislation regarding the punishments for bribery and abuse of power. The news sparked mass protests all over Romania, which carried on for weeks in a row. It was the biggest public manifestation to happen after the Romanian Revolution of 1989 (which wasn’t speared of the vandalistic acts either, this including graffiti).

Gathering in the University Square after the Revolution of 1989. On the walls: This area is neo-communim-free & Tiananmen Square II (as a comparison between the events which took place in December 1989 in Romania and the Chinese protests which had happened a few months earlier the same year, eventually escalating into a massacre perpetrated by the authorities)

An impromptu monument of corruption was “erected” close to the governmental building, stickers reading #REZIST (I resist/ I carry on, in relation with the long interval during which protests continued) were spread around the city and explicit messages directed against the political class appeared everywhere. Stencils bearing political figures, accompanied by specifically targeted messages can now be found in every spot of the city, even though the exact point from which this movement began is unclear (it may be traced back to the second term in office of president Traian Basescu). Romanian people’s disapproval with the political class, however, is an old subject, and its link with the current tendency of denouncing fraud and corruption only comes as natural.

The “Monument of Corruption”, Victory Square, vis-à-vis the governmental building

 

#REZIST sticker at the metro station, right in front of the governmental building

Stencil portraying president Klaus Iohannis, accompanied by the line “The sky is blue”, an implication of the neutral and often redundant tone of his official statements during tense political moments

Liberals, wake up! – stencil portraying liberal political parsonnalities and suggesting the drift in the ideology of tnowadays political parties, leading to confusion in terms of fundamental principles

Jail? – Stencil portraying former Prime Minister Victor Ponta, whose Cabinet was replaced by the technocratic one led by Dacian Cioloș. He was accused of plagiarism for his PhD thesis an of several corrupt practices, allegation which has not yet been proved.

Stencil portraying Dacian Cioloş, former Prime Minister, next to a plaster ornament of Virgin Mary with baby Jesus. He led a technocratic government from november 2015 to january 2017 and protesters often refer to him as one of the few public figures capable of bringing along a beneficial change in the political landscape. After being replaced by the the social-dmocratic government led by Sorin Grindeanu, these stencils sprang across Bucharest, in the most visible spots.

Kövesi for president in 2018 – Alongside Dacian Cioloș, Laura Codruța Kövesi is another public figure fancied by the public opinion. Prossecutor in chief at the National Anticorruption Directorate, mrs. Kövesi targeted many corrupt politicians, who ended up in jail for bribery or influence peddling, making her very popular among dissatisfied voters.

Indifference kills. What are you waiting for? #anoptimist –  as seen on George Enescu Avenue

The masses are angry

Down with the social-democrats!

Down with the government!

 

Poetry is in the streets, 50 years later, but on the streets of “Little Paris”

Who am I voting for? – written on the walls of the main building of the University of Bucharest

Stencil portraying Nicușor Dan, former leader of the USR (Uniunea Salvați România/ Save Romania Union), crossed out. The alternative political movement represented by Nicușor Dan, once represented in the Parliament, failed to make the difference they were promising, therefore being “sanctioned” by the public opinion.

Yet the landscape is not as dark and grim as it may seem. Much like the French case, where poetry and beauty were associated with the actions of the determined people, despite the negative aspects of the official politics, there’s enough room on the walls of Bucharest to express the other side of the story/event as well. If one looks a few feet away from the stencils and the engraved distress, one may also find encouraging messages, meant to channel the energy towards positive goals and actions, inciting the passers-by to Make love, not war, because Everything will be alright. Street art follows the social tendencies all along the way, for better or for worse, therefore it is essential to look around and document what’s written on the walls, because not all means of expression following historical periods and major trends make it through the time or to end up in history books.

Everything will be alright

One of the positive messages written on the walls in Bucharest

 

References

[i] JOHANNES STAHL, Street Art, H.F. Ullmann, 2013

[ii] CLAUDIA MESCH, Art and Politics, a small History, I.B. Tauris & Co. Ltd, 2013, London

[iii] JACQUES GUILHAUMOU, Mémoires d’un étudiant en mai 1968 : le flux des manifestations et le protagoniste de l’événement, La Découverte, 2010

[iv] PHILIPPE RASSAERT, MICHELLE ZANCARINI-FOURNEL, « Visitez le musée du graffiti, il va bientôt fermer » Un non-lieu de mémoire à Lyon : le musée du graffiti, Cahiers d’Histoire, 2009

 

Irina-Andreea Bădescu, Political Science student

Faculty of Political Science, University of Bucharest