It was the hardest decision of Zakariya Zubeidi's life. Slightly more than a year ago, the powerful commander of Jenin's al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigades, one of Israel's most-wanted for plotting shooting attacks and suicide bombings, walked into a Palestinian security office and handed in his gun.
At 32, he had concluded bitterly that his fight had failed. And he had another ambition: to deter this poverty-stricken camp's children away from the path of violence by rebuilding a children's theatre destroyed in the last intifada.
Offered, along with other gunmen, a rare amnesty from Israel, he spent time in a Palestinian jail and swore to remain unarmed. On his release, he pledged to dedicate his time to the Freedom Theatre's workshops and performances, trying to recreate his own boyhood experiences in drama thanks to the work of a Jewish-Israeli peace activist.
But today his past has caught up with him, illustrating the difficulty of starting a new life after one of violence. The theatre, now thriving under the direction of the original founder's son, does not want him there for fear that he will scare off much-needed foreign donors in the theatre's quest to expand.
I wonder if anyone in the Canadian theatre world could imagine this happening. We all understand the importance of keeping benefactors happy, and resorting to sometimes-questionable measures to keep its members happy. Juliano Mer Khamis' has a point about fearing Zubeidi's association with the theatre; it may truly harm their reputation, their chances of fundraising, and indeed, their physical safety. Still, to isolate someone whose whole being seems so entirely bound up with theatre feels... horribly sad. Isn't part of art's purpose to enlighten? Even re-reading it now, the story puts the role and significance of theatre –and its relationship to politics -in a whole new light.
At a time when artists need to stick together, cultivate community and spread awareness, it’s heartbreaking to see possibilities being ripped asunder by politics and nationalism. I don’t know what kind of a suggestion to offer here, but I’m so grateful to the Globe for publishing this story. Yet another example of how art impacts life, and life impacts art.
In that vein, it was with great interest that I read Mark Vallen’s blog this morning about the impact the global recession could have on the livelihoods and outputs of visual artists. While it's tempting to tut-tut at art’s role in harsh economic times, it's equally apt to suppose that (to twist a phrase) “art is the mother of necessity.” History would seem to bear out the fact that harsh economic reality tends to yield some wonderful stuff –and that stuff, whether it takes the form of painting, sculpture, performance, writing or otherwise, is a reflection, examination, and exploration of the economic reality we all face.
Hardship knows no bounds; conversely, its unbound nature allows its expression in many creative outlets. And there's something reassuring about that.