Jennifer Horgan: I understand the motive but I'm not sure I agree with cultural boycotts

I understand Ballet Ireland's motivation to cancel Israeli choreographer Ohad Naharin, but I still find myself sitting in the grey over it, says Jennifer Horgan. Pictured are Ballet Ireland dance artists Dominic Harisson and Ryoko Yagyu recently. Photo; Conor Healy / Picture It Photography

I’m not sure how I feel about cultural boycotts. I’m not sure how I feel about Ballet Ireland’s cancellation of Israeli choreographer Ohad Naharin last month.

“If the act of cancellations would have helped the Palestinians’ cause I would boycott my own show,” he said.

I understand the motivation to cancel it. It’s not a matter of cause and effect. It’s a statement. We all feel so helpless, so soul-destroyed by the rising death toll in Palestine — it’s at least something. It is a discernible effort to condemn the atrocities being carried out by the Israeli government.

But I still find myself sitting in the grey, a place of near-trespass these days.

I’ve always felt that the arts exist outside of everything, sacred in a way that religions are deemed to be. A place we go for solace, to contemplate, and question, and process. It’s where we encounter conflict too, and disagreement.

Such disagreement, such discomfort, can be transformative.

If someone simply says something hateful, then it is simply hateful. I fully support the upcoming hate crime legislation because we have a moral responsibility to protect vulnerable groups in real life.

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But If somebody creates something, I engage with it as a creation. I may disagree with it, despise it even, but I’m still okay with it existing and being shared. I think I’m okay with an Israeli choreographer performing his work in Ireland for that reason. The art is the thing, and it is separate and necessary.

But I’m unsure, because what is art? Hateful art can have very real impacts. 

I enjoyed listening to actor Sanjeev Bhaskar on the Louis Theroux podcast recently. He remembers being bullied in school following the broadcasting of British shows where an Indian person was the butt of the joke, the idiot. To add another unhelpful shade to the murkiness of this debate, he had no issue with ‘browned-up’ white actors, so long as they played the part of the hero.

In this case, however, in the case of the Israeli choreographer, it is not about content; it is about the nationality of the creator. And it is perhaps right to boycott on those grounds, at this time.

It's complicated, this blocking or cancelling of artists, because art is not a person, or a country, and it is beyond politics.

I went to two exhibitions over the Easter holidays — to give some real and local examples of art’s many guises.

The Islands

The first was in The Working Artist Studio in West Cork. Running up to April 13, The Islands is a solo exhibition by Cork artist Angie Shanahan, and yet at its core, is a tender collaboration.

Shanahan’s work responds to William Wall’s novel Grace’s Day. I read the book this week and popped down to see Angie’s art and felt moved by the beauty of the places depicted, beyond politics, and exploring humanity at its essence, albeit on the fringes of the world.

In a letter posted on the wall of the exhibition, William Wall thanks Angie Shanahan, his co-creator, for being “a fellow traveller in the world of images”. As I wandered between her stunning seascapes, Shanahan explained how she was inspired by Wall’s poetic turns of phrase. Indeed, some pieces are a direct reference, such as “Feathers and Ferns,” taken from a line in the novel.

One piece that struck me was a painting of rope used to bring in boats on one of the three islands featured, this time in Italy. Shanahan explained that the knotted ball at the end of the rope is something called a ‘monkey’s fist’ 

“I never knew anything about this type of knot. It's tied at the end of a rope to serve as a weight which is then thrown from the ferry to the longshoreman on shore to haul in the heavier mooring rope to the bollard. I noticed it when I visited the island and I just zoomed in on it. 

"That’s one of the joys of art, you draw attention to what others might miss. When I came home I mentioned this monkey’s fist to friends, both Marc and Sonia made me some to display here in the exhibition. It was a lovely collaboration, within the bigger collaboration with William Wall.” 

Angie Shanahan’s work could be celebrated for many things. For the feelings evoked — of isolation, and bravery, of the past. One could even see it as political — the islands reminding us of themes of immigration and displacement, flying birds featuring throughout. But to either see it as solely political, or as being representative of one person in isolation, would be a misreading.

Anois. Agora. Now.

The second exhibition I had the pleasure of visiting was on dereliction in Firkin Crane, in the stunning and neglected Shandon area in Cork City.

Anois. Agora. Now. is art that confronts politics like a bulldozer. It begins with depictions of the derelict buildings shared by Frank O’Connor and Jude Sherry on Twitter, one building a day for an entire year. 

The materials used in the exhibition reflect the themes. Thread. Stone. Foliage. All natural and circular, an exhibition that looks forward in hope and asks visitors to leave their mark in chalk. 

Yes, a far more political exhibition, designed to provoke a reaction and to encourage a fight for change. But art nonetheless, not politics, if it can speak to, and reflect on politics.

Discomfort

Hence my discomfort around cultural boycotts, however heinous the deeds of the countries, the people even. The art must exist, even that horrendous film I absolutely abhorred this year — that misogynistic mess called Poor Things. It helped me think, rage, know myself deeper through the act of watching. It was also beautiful.

Art is never simply a case of right and wrong. It refuses that. It is a messy, convoluted space for human expression, collaboration, and contemplation, and we must let it happen as freely as possible.

When I shared this half-thought with someone last week they called me an intellectual snob. I’ve no issue with boycotting Israeli produce. The goods Ireland imports from Israel have grown 20-fold since 2017. We are now Israel’s fourth biggest market; the UK is the fifth. 

Poor Things helped me think, rage, know myself deeper through the act of watching. Picture: Atsushi Nishijima/Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures/© 2023 20th Century Studios

This trade facilitates Israel’s current position and I support a trade boycott. I applaud and support the efforts Irish people are making, and join every impassioned plea to stand up against the horror in Gaza.

But I think there is a difference between Jaffa oranges and ballet.

I don’t agree with the political structures that prevent some people from having full access to the arts, but yes, I think I believe, (sense the grey, grey, greyness) that ballet is essentially different to oranges. Art is humanity in the abstract. It is everything and all of us — the result of our interaction with the natural, emotional, spiritual, political and social world.

Art is not politics

Art can be political but art is not politics. It is distinct. And in this case, when it is about nationality not content, when we cancel one Israeli choreographer for being Israeli, are we saying all Israelis are the same?

I find myself thinking of the Abbey Theatre, where in 1907 rioters protested the immorality of JM Synge’s The Playboy Of The Western World. Although related to content rather than creator, how interesting it is now…People’s outrage at the word ‘shifts,’ referring to a woman’s nightie.

The play was later proclaimed a masterpiece. How richer we are that the play was shown, if only as a measure of the people and the time. Such richness (I think) is worth protecting. I’m not sure. I don’t know, but the greyness is at least worth discussing.