Resonance of Resistance Art in the Cyberspace
“Where there is power, there is resistance, and yet, or rather consequently, this resistance is never in a position of exteriority in relation to power.” — Foucault, 1978: 95
The realm of cyberspace, where pixels dance to the rhythm of connectivity, gives resistance art a powerful resonance. Here, artists wield digital brushes and code as their tools of defiance, transforming virtual spaces into canvases of protest. The resonance of resistance art in cyberspace echoes across social media platforms, connects people, builds communities, and sparks conversations.
In this pixelated arena, artists leverage the immediacy of the online realm to amplify voices that challenge oppression, inequality, and injustice. The beauty of resistance art in digital space lies in its ability to transcend physical walls’ limitations, challenge dominant ideologies and power structures, and reach minds and hearts worldwide with a click or a share. This form of art serves as a means of expressing dissent, raising awareness, and fostering dialogue about various forms of resistance.
Currently, the Israeli-Hamas war is everyone’s focus and is receiving more interaction from both the art world and society. While protests continue worldwide, many social media users show their support for the sides. Instagram is identified as a significant platform for the visual war between Israel and Palestine. Both sides use the platform to reinforce their war narratives, self-victimization, and humanize the conflict. Instagram empowers civilians to participate in the war narrative by sharing photos, footage, and testimonies. [1]
Israel employs its military using platforms like YouTube and Telegram to showcase surveillance and airstrikes. This serves the dual purpose of portraying precision in their operations and demonstrating technological superiority. On the other side, Hamas attempts to use the media to its advantage by allowing a journalist to film inside a rocket factory, providing a glimpse into Israeli activities. [2]
While social media is a powerful tool for both sides shaping public opinion or gathering information, it also includes misinformation, manipulation, and the potential for censorship. Social media platforms, such as Facebook, X (formerly Twitter), Instagram, and TikTok also have a crucial role in mobilizing activists and documenting events during revolutions.
Authors, artists, and activists recognize social media’s power in providing a platform for marginalized voices and contributing to a decentralized archive of revolutionary moments. [3]
Moreover, digital resistance activities create alternative narratives and challenge cultural hegemony using aesthetics through visual and digital art, music, and storytelling. This allows individuals and groups to alter the existing representations of violence and terror, offering new ways to perceive and engage with these themes.
The Pro-Palestine movement utilizes social media platforms, particularly Instagram, to share images and videos depicting the destruction caused by Israeli airstrikes in Gaza. The aim is to mobilize the international community against the war and shed light on the suffering of Palestinians. [4]
Visual content is seen as being more impactful in increasing international attention and conveying civilian emotions. Images and videos are considered more accessible and emotionally resonant, contributing to a better understanding of the conflict in the fast-paced information age. [5]
Art as a Form of Everyday Resistance: Maya Amer
Throughout history, art has been a powerful medium for expressing political and ideological beliefs, advocating for change, and fostering socio-political movements. The Pro-Palestinian movement is a vivid example of how artistic production has become a vital tool for socio-political struggle, mobilization, and dissent.
In the context of Palestinian life under occupation and censorship, seemingly everyday acts become powerful tools of dissent and resilience in the face of oppressive conditions. There is an intricate relationship between cultural expression, resistance, and power dynamics; and art becomes a means of resistance against the backdrop of a complex political landscape marked by conflict and occupation. Artists use various forms of expression — paintings, murals, literature, music, and more — to convey their perspectives, challenge the status quo, and bring attention to the struggles faced by their communities.
One of these art forms is Tatreez, which is a Palestinian cross-stitch embroidery. It is a centuries-old art form that has been orally passed on between generations, from mother to daughter, and holds deep cultural and historical significance. Palestinians have used Tatreez to tell their stories — their religious, political, or national identities — stitched into their clothing. [6]
In regions directly affected by conflict and occupation, Tatreez becomes a form of non-violent resistance. The act of creating and wearing embroidered garments signifies a commitment to cultural identity and resistance against oppressive forces. [7] Thus, Tatreez can also be considered an art form that transcends its utilitarian purpose and stands as a vibrant expression of Palestinian culture, identity, and resilience.
London-based Palestinian artist and designer, Maya Amer, used this traditional craft, Tatreez, to digitally visualize the death toll in Gaza in October. Amer embroidered her anger and frustration with a Gazan pattern and created an artwork. [8]
The artist used various digitally embroidered colors to showcase the men, women, children, and unidentified Palestinian bodies that died in the month of October. Each stitch represents a life lost; each note is a testament to Palestinian resilience. Amer shared her work on Instagram and gained significant online traction.
While the data visualized in the video is impressive, heartbreaking, and thought-provoking in itself, the song that accompanies the video, Zahret El Mada’en (زهرة المدائن), or “The Flower of Cities,” sung by the legendary Fairouz creates an experience that directly appeals to the senses and emotions. The song is about the occupation of Jerusalem, vowing that “the doors of our city will not be locked, for I am going to pray.”
The song is a classic Arabic song with profound cultural and poetic significance, and due to being a part of the cultural voices of the Arab world who spoke out for the Palestinians [9], it empowers the expression of Amer’s work.
Amer also shares how to create this emotionally, culturally, and politically deep pattern for anyone who wants to embroider. When looking at the comments, there are mostly supportive, positive, and empathetic comments.
Isn’t there any negative criticism on social media regarding the pro-Palestinian art forms that are created around this sensitive situation?
War on social media: Hassan Ragab
The war in Gaza has also spread to social media, and supporters on both sides actively engage in expressing their viewpoints. Thus, social media became a battleground that is also seen under popular posts, where users passionately defend their respective sides. [10] These users contribute to shaping the overall narrative of the conflict by engaging in discussions, sharing information, and expressing their perspectives under viral posts. This dynamic interaction adds another layer to the complex and contentious discourse surrounding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict on social media platforms.
Artists use their creativity to offer nuanced views on complex topics, stimulate critical thinking, and foster a more comprehensive understanding of social movements. Social media platforms allow artists to interact directly with their audiences, encourage dialogue, and spark conversations about issues. While art is a way for artists to express their ideas, perspectives, and emotions, art’s ability to evoke emotions and create empathy is crucial to social movements.
One of the online disputes can be seen under Egyptian designer and artist Hassan Ragab’s Instagram posts, in which he shared an AI-generated image series depicting the brutality in Gaza. While Ragab’s work reflects today’s reality by criticizing the silence and recklessness of institutions and organizations on the current war, the works also challenge viewers to question established narratives.
This AI-generated photo illustrates a baby with a bomb exploding in front of them which Ragab published on his account. The post has 58k likes and nearly 2k comments receiving much attention from Instagram users. The image series was also shared on various websites, and due to its rapid spread, created an arena where the current situation could be discussed by his followers. Discussions were shaped around themes like terrorism, misinformation, art as propaganda, and media bias.
While the pro-Israel comments under Ragab‘s posts accuse him of supporting terrorists, prejudice, and Islamist, Pro-Palestinian users defended Ragab by claiming that the lack of media coverage on the Palestinian experience over the years created this environment.
In general, while both sides accuse each other of being terrorists, uneducated, and brainwashed, there are also many comments claiming that the artist portrays the situation in a one-sided and biased way.
One of these comments target the lack of objectivity in Ragab’s work. This comment received the most interaction and also had a discussion with Ragab, as seen in the screenshot above.
After this discussion, Gili Ben Shahar shared his AI-generated image showing his own perspective on the war, depicting an Israeli soldier holding babies in the battlefield, with the hashtag “counter-speech” in the description on the post.
Leaving aside the fact that Ragab’s work is already a counter-discourse, challenging mainstream narratives by offering alternative perspectives, the question arises:
Should artists be objective in their work? What do you think about it?
Amplifying Narratives: Escif
The contemporary art world has become a focal point for the ongoing Israeli-Palestinian conflict, with over 150 prominent artists, curators, musicians, writers, and publishers signing a second open letter supporting Palestinians. The letter published by Artforum on October 19 reflects a growing trend of public figures in the arts expressing solidarity with the Palestinian people. [11]
However, this vocal support has come at a cost for many artists and cultural workers. As Israel’s air strikes continue in the Gaza Strip, those who have spoken out in favor of Palestine are facing various forms of backlash. This includes canceled talks, de-installed artworks, and severed relationships with collectors. [12]
The reprisals show the intersections between global politics, artistic expression, and the censorship faced by individuals within the cultural sphere who engage in activism. The impact of these actions on museums and galleries is becoming increasingly evident as these spaces grapple with the complexities of navigating political discourse within the realm of art.
Protests are being organized within the scope of mass action in museums in support of Gaza, at the center of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. One of the reasons why museums are targeted is because they attract the attention of many different audiences, including the media, locals, and tourists.
Most importantly, museums, which have a significant role in shaping cultural and historical narratives with the support of their political and financial connections, are symbols of cultural authority and protection. Museums are not neutral; they are political areas that reflect social values. This also makes museums a valuable platform to draw attention to marginalized, underrepresented, or overlooked narratives.
On November 11th, at The Guggenheim Museum, anonymous demonstrators showcased two images portraying the suffering of Palestinians grieving over bodies of children killed by Israeli bombardments, which are works of Escif, a Valencia-based street artist. He has been active in the street art scene since the late 90s, and his work creates a space to provoke and make people question things, as in the works used in The Guggenheim Museum protest.
While the protest challenged traditional exhibits, a mute volume icon at the center of the images referred to recent censorship around Palestinian solidarity.
The mute volume icon was created by UNMUTE GAZA, a collective turning real pictures from Gaza into paintings. Artists share their works on their website and Instagram account, encouraging people to download the prints freely and paste them around their cities.
The artists in this community, of which Escif is also a part, use photos taken by photojournalists in Gaza. By utilizing Palestinian photojournalists’ photos, this collective navigates challenges stemming from limited infrastructure to amplify the voices of people and journalists in Gaza. In doing so, they underscore the pivotal role played by Palestinian journalists as essential conduits of information, bridging the gap between conflict zones and the global audience. [13]
In essence, the protest at The Guggenheim and the UNMUTE GAZA movement showcase the resilience of art as a form of activism, illustrating its capacity to provoke questions, challenge norms, and bring attention to critical issues. As the art world becomes a front line for narratives, these expressions become crucial in shaping perspectives and fostering dialogue about the complex realities of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
In conclusion, exploring resistance art in cyberspace and its intersection with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict underscores the transformative power of digital platforms. From online protests and the dissemination of visual narratives on social media to the creative expressions of artists like Escif, Maya Amer, and Hassan Ragab, the digital realm serves as a dynamic space for activism and awareness.
“Once we recognize that not all Israelis are fanatical nationalists, and that not all Palestinians are fanatical anti-Semites, we can start to acknowledge the despair and confusion that give rise to outbursts of evil. … Hamas and Israeli hardliners are two sides of the same coin. The choice is not one hardline faction or the other; it is between fundamentalists and all those who still believe in the possibility of peaceful co-existence.” — SLAVOJ ŽIŽEK
