Revolutionary love. Civic love. Love.

For Maria Bárbara

Hélène Landemore’s “Politics without politicians: The case for citizen rule” (2026) was a fascinating read, for which David van Reybrouck’s “Against elections” (2016) had opened the way for me. Both share with us recent experiences (in the last three decades) where, inspired by the principles of ancient Athenian democracy, different societies (in Iceland, Ireland, France, Belgium, Canada, the US) tried to reinvent the democratic system of ruling by involving every day citizens in decision-making through sortition.

Cultures and values in Europe

Last month, two events separated by one day marked the EU agenda.

On 17 June, the European Parliament voted to increasing deportations of undocumented people. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw a number of right-wing MEPs celebrating the outcome of the vote with raised fists and chants of “Send them back”. According to the Guardian, Amnesty International France described the plans as “absurd, cruel and discriminatory” and 16 UN experts outlined the ways in which the rules could contravene international human rights. The chants heard in the European Parliament bring cruelty and barbarism to a new level. It cannot be normalised. [Only in early July did I see a response from Roberta Metsola, President of the European Parliament.]

It's the playbook, stupid!

“He was, rather, an opportunistic, America-first, anti-immigrant, anti-labor, racist politician with few scruples, for whom power and popularity mattered more than ideology.”

“He saw how easy it was to garner headlines by attacking progressive plays as “un-American’.”

"He saw that scaring people (your children are being indoctrinated and Black men want to sleep with your daughters) was a lot more effective than the arduous and consensus-building business of legislating.”

Although the mention of America will allow readers to understand which country this is about, I am also sure of two things:

• You wouldn’t guess the year
• Today, all of us, coming from different countries, we can see here the description of a number of populist and also far-right politicians.

This is why it’s called “The Playbook”.

Silent heroes

For Andreia Cunha
For Manuel Sarmento Pizarro

In February this year, American author and activist John Pavlovitz wrote to then Attorney General an open letter: “Dear Pam Bondi (A letter from a father)”.  For almost a year, people from around the world had been witnessing the mean, unintelligent, perverted, arrogant and, at the same time, submissive way Bondi defended her master, the president of the USA – and not The People. Pavlovitz resumed the feelings those repeated spectacles provoked in many of us in a rather simple question: “How does someone become Pam Bondi?”.

Canaries in the coalmine and democracy fitness

Dedicated to good friends and colleagues in
Leiria, Coimbra, Figueira da Foz.

Greek columnist Thodoris Georgakopoulos wondered how do we, the citizens, recognise that a line has been crossed, that we have slipped into a place where democracy has ceased to exist. He was referring to a May article in The New York Times, which I had read too, entitled “How will we know when we have lost our democracy?”. Based on that article, Georgakopoulos questions: “Is a country considered a democracy when the people who govern it hunt down their political opponents and put them in prison? When they are indifferent to solving the country's problems and instead are only concerned with maintaining and strengthening the client state? Is a country democratic in which all the media are owned by financial interests that are financially dependent on the government? Or one in which all state wealth is distributed to regime loyalists?”.

A culture of revolution and some old-fashioned values

Kristin Cabot’s sad, self-aware, penetrating look in a photo in The New York Times reminded me of two things: how upset I felt last summer with the way “the world” (it was indeed the whole world) reacted and treated her when being caught on Jumbotron in the arms of her boss at a Coldplay concert; and how I never thought about them (and her) again after those first few explosive days.

Wishing for peace

Nemo, 2024 Eurovision winner (Copyright AP Photo)

A few days ago, regarding Donald Trump's abhorrent reaction to the murder of film director Rob Reiner and his wife, Portuguese journalist Patrícia Fonseca commented that, a few (not many) years ago, a reaction of this type would have initiated an impeachment process. This time, there were many people who classified Trump's attitude as unworthy of the office he holds. However, the truth is that there’s a kind of anesthesia around what Trump says or does, as if it were something natural or inevitable, as if it were not possible to demand decency. The same happens with other politicians and so-called "influencers," thus normalising hate speech or not challenging misinformation. With all the damage this causes, I believe it is not due to a lack of sensitivity that most people do not react, but to a lack of a sense of agency. We don't react because we think it's not worth it, because nothing will change.

It's a matter of scale. The awareness that, while we cannot change the world, we still have the power – as individuals and, above all, as a collective – to dream, to work for the world we wish to belong to, and to make things happen.

Caring for the future

My speech yesterday at Forum Esfera(s), organised by the University of Coimbra. Read here

Are European cultural institutions immune to political pressure?

A year and a half ago, I moderated a discussion with the then director of the American Library Association (ALA), Emily Drabinski, and with Julia Lesser, from the project CHAPTER - Challenging Populist Truth-Making in Europe: The Role of Museums in a Digital ‘Post-Truth’ European Society. I will come back to Julia below, I would like first discuss what Emily shared with us on that occasion.

In 2024, when we spoke, pressure groups in the US, such as Moms for Liberty, had tried to remove 2452 books from school and public libraries (according to ALA, which also reported that between 2001-2020, the average was 273). The books mainly refer to LGBTQIA+ characters or themes, as well as racism, equality, social justice, the American Civil War or religion. Many reports referred threats against librarians and layoffs, as well as the serious mental health problems that these professionals faced. I then asked Emily if we are exaggerating when we react in our countries to the slightest sign of censorship, intolerance, verbal violence in the cultural sphere. “Absolutely not,” she replied. “We got where we are because we kept giving space.”

Is Culture responding...?

Público journalists Daniel Dias and Mariana Duarte wrote an article entitled "Is culture in Portugal responding to what's happening in Palestine?" I don't recall the Portuguese media ever questioning the response that culture is giving to contemporary political issues. The two journalists claim that their piece is written on the occasion of Joana Craveiro's new work on Palestine. However, being familiar with the political work of Joana Craveiro/Teatro do Vestido and other artists, I don't recall this type of questioning on other occasions. Therefore, I suspect that this is one of the results of the National Theater D. Maria II (TNDMII) statement on Gaza and the reactions it provoked.

Donald’s washing machine

Sophia Linispori and Konstantina Mavropoulou in "The washing machine" by Thanasis Triaridis

Last month I had the opportunity to see Thanasis Triaridis’ theatre play “The washing machine”. Two mothers meet three times at a public laundry. In the first meeting, mother A looks distraught, shocked, deeply sad: the previous day her son was given the “honour” of carrying out the public decapitation of a girl. Mother B looks happy and pleased, congratulates mother A for her son and answers her concern that her son did something noble, obeyed the law and the law takes care of everyone. The law says that girls are not useful, thus they need to be eliminated.

Without water, one dies in nine days, yet one can live for five years without human touch. Is the latter a luxury?

Choir of ex-miners at the Mines of Lousal. Coming together to sing was (and is)
important to them. (Photo: Maria Vlachou)

The title is a quote from Justin O´Connor’s book “Culture is not an industry – Reclaiming art and culture for the common good”. Before I get into it, two episodes from my professional life come to mind.

In 2016, Access Culture found out about a working group constituted the year before by the Portuguese government to tackle the refugee crisis. The following sectors where represented in this group: Directorate-General for European Affairs/Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Foreigners and Borders Service, the Social Security Institute, the Institute for Employment and Vocational Training, the Directorate-General for Health, the Directorate-General for Education and the High Commissioner for Migrations. Culture was not invited to be part. Our association wrote to the Ministry of Culture and we were informed that the group was almost completing its task and that the Ministry would pay more attention in the future. More attention to what…? Noone considered that Culture had anything to do with the arrival of refugees to a small country – not even the Ministry of Culture and perhaps also quite a few cultural professionals.

Thanks, but no thanks.

It is not easy to read Ece Temelkuran’s book “How to lose a country: The seven steps from democracy to dictatorship”. The Turkish journalist’s incisive writing becomes frightening at times, her evidence weighs heavily on one’s heart. I had to pause now and then. All our questions, doubts, concerns, frustrations about what is happening around us, are in this book. What some of us are experiencing for the first time has happened before and the tactics were never different. Not only are Erdogan’s rise, the Brexit vote, Trump’s election put under the microscope, Temelkuran has a clear view of how far back we need to go in order to find the origins for both recent and current events and realise that we did/do nothing, although the way they developed is, by now, so predictable. As predictable as seven steps.

And now for something completely different: the populist museum

Back in November 2022, the Italian Minister of Culture, Gennaro Sangiuliano, talked about the need to better protect works of art from the actions of climate activists and stated: “Considering the enormous heritage to be protected, the intervention will represent a considerable cost for the ministry and for the entire nation. Unfortunately, I can only foresee an increase in the cost of the entrance ticket.”

The statement sounded deeply populist (and ridiculous) to me at the time. Perhaps not more populist (or ridiculous), though, than the statement of The National Gallery on 17 October:

“Following recent incidents within the Gallery it is now necessary to introduce increased security measures to ensure the safety of all who visit, National Gallery staff and the nation’s collection of paintings.

Against culture passes

House with a roof but no foundations was a post I wrote in 2011 regarding the initiative of the Brazilian government to give a sort of “culture stipend” to people with low income. It is a case a still frequently bring up in trainings and debates, as it never convinced me it was addressing the real issues. The questions citizens asked at the time were revealing: Can we buy video games with it? Can we pay cable TV? A lady that was interviewed at the time said she thought is was great, as she had never before “dared” to go to the municipal theatre of Rio de Janeiro (“It is so big, so beautiful”, she said, “I never dared”…). More importantly, though, there were the people who asked the difficult questions: how are we supposed to spend it? There’s no bookshop – cinema – museum – theatre where we live.

Beyond the law

National Museum, Prague

In 2021, I was in Prague, visiting the National Museum. Having taken the elevator to reach the cupola and get to see the beautiful city from above, I saw it had a bench. I remember being invaded by a strong emotion witnessing this small, discreet gesture of hospitality and kindness. The museum did not include the bench because it was obliged by law. It acknowledged that not everyone would be able to stand during the slow journey of getting to the top, so it wanted to make sure that people would feel comfortable and safe; they would feel welcome. When we honestly wish to open the doors to everyone (whatever “everyone” might mean), to share the experience with all those who are interested in being part, we are not conditioned by laws. We are ready to go beyond.

Of silent majorities. Of fear and freedom.

Once again, we´ll cross the Atlantic, just so that we realise how close we actually are and why we should be paying attention.

In July, I wrote an article for the Portuguese newspaper Público (see translation) regarding the what is now an extreme situation of banning books in US school and public libraries. I wrote at the time that the contested books normally relate to LGBTQI+ issues, race and racism, slavery, the genocide of indigenous people, religion. There are also numerous demands to move books about puberty from the juvenile section to the adult section… Similar situations are occurring in Brazil and other countries, being more or less reported in the mainstream media.

A recent report regarding the situation in the US, published by the Knight Foundation, showed some very relevant results: that 78 percent of people trust their public schools to select appropriate materials; it also found that “most Americans feel informed about efforts to ban books in schools, but just 3% of respondents said that they have personally engaged on the issue - with 2% getting involved on the side of maintaining access to books, and 1% seeking to restrict access.” (read more). What does this tell us? That too many people are aware, a few get involved in defending freedom to read in a democratic country, while a vocal, often violent, fringe is allowed to decide what everyone may read and where. Does it sound slightly familiar?

“First they ignore you. Then they laugh at you. Then they fight you. Then you win.”

Suffragette being arrested in 1914.
(Image taken from The Independent. PA Wire/PA Images)

The title of this post are Ghandi’s words, quoted by Rebecca Solnit in her book “Hope in the dark”. Each era has its own, specific causes, while, at the same time we can observe and feel the development of others, coming from further back. Solnit reminds us that the stages identified by Ghandi unfold slowly and also that “Effects are not proportionate to causes – not only because huge causes sometimes seem to have little effect, but because tiny ones occasionally have huge consequences.” (p.61).

I have been thinking about the way activists of different causes are seen and treated nowadays. When I wrote a chapter for the book “The activist museum” (edited by Robert Janes and Richard Sandell), I remember opting for the definition of activism as it appeared on Wikipedia, since the dictionaries I consulted at the time often gave it an aggressive, violent tinge, which left me unsatisfied. Aggression or violence are not absent, of course, but they are not the only way of being an activist. Remembering an interview by John Berger, listening is an act (and in my mind, this is where activist actually starts, at being able to listen).

To honestly care

Photo: Maria Vlachou

When I attended the Balkan Museum Network conference last month, I had the pleasure of listening to Łukasz Bratasz, Head of the Cultural Heritage Research group at the Jerzy Haber Institute (Poland). His keynote speech was about “Sustainability-conscious management of art collections”. For someone like me, who knows the absolutely basic on environmental control in museums, it was a surprising and refreshing talk. Perhaps also for those who know more than I do. Because Łukasz shared with us the results of studies that show that objects are much less vulnerable to environmental variations than previously assumed and that there are other ways of managing art collections, with a significantly lighter carbon footprint.

How does living in a “declining democracy” feel?

Claudia Roth, German Minister of State for Culture, at Belinale.
Photo: Andreas Rentz | Geety Images (taken from The Guardian)

I was in an international group discussion a few days ago, where the subject was museums and declining democracies. We heard about the woes of Polish museum directors, widely reported in the international press (examples from 2017 onwards: here, here, here, here, here); we heard about museums in Hungary, expected to “interpret for the people the wills of the government” or getting censored because of a participatory art project depicting the President or, more recently, seeing a director getting sacked for ignoring the law against the “promotion of homosexuality”, which he had voted for when he was a member of parliament. We also heard about the Netherlands, where the extreme right has been attacking museum narratives for some time and is now trying to form a government, after winning the elections in November.