Listening through a genocide

Morten Poulsen

 

With audibility, or rather the lack thereof, comes auditory poverty. And where
there is poverty, there is discontent. And where there is discontent, there is
potential an uprising. – Nina Dragicevic, Auditory Poverty and Its Discontents
(2024), Errant Bodies Press DE

 

In the world of music, the concept of acoustics relates to the physical and material conditions a given space has or does not have. Typically, the goal is to achieve “good acoustics,” where we are able to hear all the details and nuances in the music. Moreover, special acoustic conditions like reverberation or echo can contribute to the experience of the music. The writer and artist Brandon LaBelle has argued for an expanded understanding of acoustics, pointing out how acoustics also help shape the framework for how we navigate and socialise, how we hear and are being heard. According to LaBelle, this leads to a consideration of “acoustics as a politics through which struggles over recognition and rights, belonging and access are waged.”(1)

 

In this essay, I will use this expanded understanding of acoustics and place it as a lens through which we can see — or listen to — the demonstrations, protests, call-outs, etc., both offline and online, that we have seen in Denmark since October 2023, in connection with the mobilisation for a ceasefire in Gaza and the West Bank, and the subsequent response from the Danish authorities. My aim is to position these activities as an exercise of the acoustics that LaBelle describes, through which we can examine not-listening as a form of power. Finally, I will offer some reflections on listening and relate them to the situation in Denmark, speculating on alternative frameworks for political participation.

 

On the Efforts Not to Listen
Since October 2023, I, along with millions of others, have followed social media, where Palestinian civilians live-stream the atrocities they are subjected to by Israeli forces in Gaza. It is almost the only way we can stay updated since Israel has either banned journalists from entering Gaza or killed those who were there. Israel has also repeatedly shut down the internet to try to keep the atrocities in Gaza hidden — atrocities they have been accused of at the International Criminal Court: organising a genocide against the Palestinian people.

 

The many months of horrors(2) in Gaza have led tens of thousands of people in Denmark to 2 mobilise into a popular movement, demanding the Danish government condemn Israel’s actions and call for an immediate ceasefire; to stop all cooperation with institutions and companies in Israel; to halt the export of Danish military technology to Israel; and to recognise Palestine as a state. Gathered in record-sized demonstrations with banners, drums, and chants, activists and citizens have protested outside government buildings, the Israeli Embassy in Copenhagen, Danish Broadcasting Cooperation, and Danish companies that produce and sell military technology to Israel or that form the infrastructure for arms trading with Israel. Students set up the Rafa Garden tent camp in The Secret Garden at the University of Copenhagen to appeal for dialogue with the university about its cooperation with educational institutions in Israel. Activists went on hunger strikes to gain the politicians’ attention outside the Danish Parliament, Christiansborg. Artists held demonstrations in front of museums. Many have written emails to elected officials and signed several citizen petitions. Many have authored articles and posts on social media, written directly to politicians’ profiles, and tried to call them out by tagging them in posts and stories. In short, there have been countless attempts to get the government to listen and act, to stop the horror being inflicted on Palestinians.

 

These attempts have largely been ignored or dismissed by the government’s ministers and most Danish politicians. In various ways, they have expressed that these efforts are not the right way to conduct a democratic conversation. They express fear of “polarisation.” They are afraid of the “tone in the debate.”

 

A concrete example of this occurred in May 2024, when Foreign Minister Lars Løkke was interrupted by protesters during a visit to the University of Copenhagen, who called for him to stop Denmark’s arms exports to Israel. Løkke later posted on Instagram(3), complaining about being interrupted, writing: “We must never stop talking to each other in Denmark.” But the movement for peace has tried to engage Løkke in dialogue for months, using the methods I have already described. During this period, Løkke has not engaged in conversations with the movement. Moreover, Løkke, through his powerful position as Foreign Minister, has far more resources and opportunities than the protesters to speak and control a conversation, including access to the press.

 

By focusing on the tone and manner in which political participation is expressed, the ruling class exercises a form of auditory disciplining over the popular movement, creating frustration and experiences of being overheard and ignored.

 

On Power Positions and Silence as an Ideal
In The Dissonance of Democracy, professor in political science Susan Bickford emphasises that both speaking and listening are central activities of citizenship, and that politics is about the dynamics between the two. But this dynamic can be risky, especially for those in positions of power. Because listening involves giving attention to the other party, it opens the possibility that something else may happen: a new insight or a new conclusion, which requires action or change. The dynamic between speaking and listening is risky for dominant forces because the outcome may be solutions that do not align with an already laid-out direction.

 

For further exploration of the intersection between power and listening, it may be useful to examine what is understood by listening. “Listening” often evokes ideas of empathy, compassion, respect, and care, followed by silence, perhaps even peace and quiet, as conditions for “good” listening. When I participate in conversations on listening, it is also the desire for silence that is often mentioned first. But with the idealisation of silence, peace, and quiet as conditions for listening, I believe we must be aware that ideals can easily alienate that or those who do not fit; that which is considered noise by some. I would argue that there is not a big leap from the desire for peace and quiet for listening, and then to demands for order and the avoidance of noise, conflict, and non-hygge.(4)

 

Although Danish politicians do not specifically use the word “silence,” their auditory disciplining of citizens reflects a perspective where one is not worthy of being listened to unless the manner in which one expresses oneself is “orderly,” “peacefully,” or “calmly.” This is despite the fact that “calm” forms of protest have indeed taken place, but are mostly ignored by most politicians (such as the aforementioned hunger strikes and even the weekly demonstrations with thousands of participants). It is becoming increasingly clear that the ideal of orderly, non-disruptive, and non-noisy political participation benefits the powerful, as this kind of participation is easier to ignore than when it is noisy and disruptive.

 

The Danish government, in line with governments in other countries, has chosen to ignore the movement for peace. They have avoided listening to it and attacked its tone. They do not want to listen because it may lead to recognition of the horrors. They do not want to listen because it may lead to a challenge to a laid-out direction: a direction where violations of human rights are legitimised when it strengthens profit, alliances, and power. It is a direction rooted in imperialism, capitalism, and racism.

To imagine a better acoustics for political participation, I believe that ideals and notions of listening must be challenged and developed. Perhaps it is time to cultivate the noise. The noise as multifaceted, disorderly, and filled with conflict. But also the noise as a volume that cannot be ignored.

 

– Morten Poulsen, Copenhagen, September 2024

 

 

References

Brandon LaBelle, Acoustic Justice – Listening, Performativity, and the Work of Reorientation (2021), Bloomsbury

Susan Bickford, Dissonance of Democracy – Listening, Conflict, and Citizenship (1996), Cornell University Press

 

Notes

1) LaBelle, B. Acoustic Justice, s. 11

2) The word “horrors” is, of course, an understatement. I use this word here to describe not only Israel’s violations of the Palestinians’ human rights but also that which is not as readily registered: the intimate human traumas and the destruction of culture and nature. The full extent of the damage is not yet fully revealed, and we will see the effects of Israel’s warfare far into the future.

3) https://www.instagram.com/reel/C7hKEGetNne/? utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

4) Hygge is a Danish word embedded deeply in Danish culture that describes a cozy, contented mood evoked by comfort and conviviality. Non-hygge, or the act of “breaking” the hygge, can mean to say or do something that can be socially or politically deemed controversial. Hygge often relies on some form of unspoken normative consensus, in which a controversial statement “ruins the mood” and creates discomfort. Hygge is sometimes a tool for social control that can be used to dismiss political statements if they “ruin the mood”. For example, when protestors disrupted the speech of Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen, at the International Women’s Day in March 2024, calling for a ceasefire in Palestine, the situation was described as “uncomfortable” by minister for culture Jacob Engel-Schmidt. However the situation might have felt for the politicians present at the event, we can note that both Engel-Schmidt or Frederiksen decried the method of the protestors and didn’t engage with the political message.