Who are «we» and who the «others»?
Essay by Anna Froelicher
What does a national anthem extol, whom does it actually address – and whom not? With «Please Stand», Samara Hersch and Lara Thoms investigate the myths associated with nations and their songs and invite us to consider possibilities for new and alternative stories. The author Anna Froelicher has engaged in their thought experiment. The result is a personal, associative essay: What if we reverse our own point of view, what do maps tell about territories and what do national tales, songs and objects mean to peoples and generations who officially have no own voice (yet)?
Recently, I had once again the privilege of a bird’s-eye view. One of those insightful visual axes revealing what is below you, where you come from, where you go to and how all of it is connected. I was sitting in an airplane. After take-off, I immediately switched to a window seat. I wanted to see everything. Every house we flew over, becoming smaller and smaller until turning into a little black dot on the earth’s surface. Every mountain and every river, every forest, every wasteland. I wanted to see the roads, seemingly dividing the landscape even though they are part of it. I wanted to see the sea, how it connected with a small strip of beach to the mainland. Wherever I looked, there were fields, villages, arrangements, structures. All of it was infrastructure, surfaces created by man and machine. The era of the Anthropocene, as now-time is called since the early 2000s.
The landscape we flew over changed – sometimes the surface looked rocky and barren, sometimes green and lush – but the landscape never ended. From up here, there were only shades, gradients and repetitions. I wanted to check a map on my mobile phone to see where we were, which countries we flew over and whose territories would reach up to us even in a vertical line. But at this height there was no mobile reception. I had to rummage through my geographic memory, remember distinctive topographies and try to figure out the boundaries between the countries below. But nothing worked, I couldn’t make out any countries. Switzerland overlapped with Italy, and Italy blended into Tunisia over the sea – I was looking for territories, fed by my visual memory. Yet, the existence of those fictitious areas left no trace on the visible surface of the earth.
«Are you one of those people who claps when the airplane touches down?» is one of the questions in the dating app OkCupid. «Are you one of those people who stands up when your national anthem is sung?»
I sit at my desk in the basement, the coolest place in the house. It is hot outside, at least for central European conditions, and I have a go at the text on «Please Stand», the latest theatre work by Samara Hersch and Lara Thoms. With this project, the Australian artists focus on the result of border demarcations: nations. Together with three young adults from Melbourne and the lyricist Negar Rezvani, they investigate the creation of myths around national identity and patriotism. A quote mentioned by the artists sticks in my mind. It is by the Vietnamese American writer Ocean Vuong: «The best thing about National Anthems is you are already standing, ready to run.» I start to think that it is only one single movement turning you into a patriot. Just as running away is only one single movement. An act of refusal of who is in power and decides if you are in or out.
The last two sentences of the Swiss national anthem in Tunisian Arabic are: «allah fi alwatan alnabil, allah alrabu fi alwatan alnabili.» That God dwelleth in this land. That God dwelleth in this land.
Nine-year old Harper Neilson took on the act of refusal as she did not stand up but remained seated for the Australian national anthem sung during a school celebration. This was in 2018, a little more than one hundred years after present-day Australia federated to the Commonwealth of Australia in 1901. By remaining seated, Harper Neilson wanted to call attention to the injustice and violence of the nation-building. She felt that the lyrics of the national anthem, maintaining that Australia is young and free, obscured the fact that Indigenous peoples have lived and worked on this continent for over 50’000 years. The young girl was publicly defamed and insulted for her protest. Thoms and Hersch took Harper Neilson’s simple but effective non-movement as the starting point for their new project. «We All Know What’s Happening» (2019), their previous work on the Australian offshore refugee camps on Nauru, already focused on the effects of national demarcations on identities and bodies. Their creations often feature young actors whose voices are rarely heard. What do national stories, songs and objects mean to a generation which has no own voice (yet) on a national level?
I reach for my mobile phone, this time online. The German Wikipedia article on present-day Australia lists the following titles under the chapter «History»: Before the arrival of the Europeans – First sightings by Europeans – Colonisation and further explorations – The path towards a nation. The fact that the population history of 50’000 years is summarised under «Before the arrival of the Europeans» tells a lot about the predominance of the Eurocentric perspective on this continent. The history of the «young and free» Australian nation is a history of colonisation by the British Empire and its convicts. Yet, from the perspective of the Indigenous peoples, it is a history of loss, violence and oppression as well as a history of non-participation, protest and resistance. A recent past which only accounts for a fraction of their own history.
On 26 May 2022, the national memorial day to commemorate the mistreatment of Australia’s Indigenous peoples had its 24th birthday. The event is called «National Sorry Day».
I am at the library. A churchly place I haven’t been to in a long time and have almost forgotten during the pandemic. It is quiet and the room sounds as if many people have worked meticulously on its atmosphere for a long time, almost like in an airplane, I think. I want to leaf through a book and find a map I have seen on Instagram. It takes some patience until I find it. It is a rectangular cartography of the earth. In the upper right corner, there is a big yellow area surrounded by blue, present-day Australia. A little further down at the right edge, Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, China and Russia, framed by the lower edge and reaching almost to the middle of the map. In the middle right at the top, South Africa, a little further down to the right, Madagascar and to the very left of the upper half, South America with Argentina and Chile next to each other elongating into a tip. At the lower edge to the left, Canada and Alaska. The map is called «The world turned upside down» and was created by the Oxford Cartographers. With my index finger, I look for places I have been to and slide across the varicoloured surfaces. Again, it is a movement turning everything upside down. A movement of the perspective on the world, the shift from one dominate position to another. Not the world is turned upside down, I think – the universe knows no direction, no up and down – but my view on it is upside down. I stand up and leave the library.
«Please Stand» by Samara Hersch and Lara Thoms premiers at Zürcher Theater Spektakel on 18 August 2022. Further information and tickets.