Reykjavík Grapevine


Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.05.2019, Qupperneq 16

Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.05.2019, Qupperneq 16
16 The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 07— 2019 Israel and with such a global audience as Eurovision guarantees. The band admits that they are walking into the unknown, and have met with criticism from all sides, recognising the merits of much of it. There’s a lot to unpack here, but in a frank and lengthy interview on the day before departing for Israel, the Grape- vine met with Matthías and Klemens, the band’s two vocalists, to explore Hatari’s current situation and the criti- cism against them, the role of art in politics, and why Eurovision matters as a platform for raising awareness about the Palestinian cause. THE CATALYST Until earlier this year, Hatari were an up-and-coming industrial techno art band in Iceland. They attracted atten- tion not only for the expressly anti- capitalist messages in their songs, but also for the provocative performance art of their PR. Most notably, in February 2018 they sent out a press release stating that they had signed a deal with Lands- banki, one of Iceland’s largest banks. The statement was completely false, but the intent of the statement was, as Matthías put it, “to take people down to our level.” “We totally lied and put words in their mouth,” he says. “If they responded, and quite correctly replied ‘that's not what we said,’ we’d succeed either way. They're forced to let it stand or respond. And that's a win-win for Hatari.” Such provocations set the scene for their performance at Söngvakeppnin, which—with the band’s distant, robotic interview style and sarcastic product placements—had an air of another prank. Their winning track is a dystopian vision of a possible future Europe, divided and destroyed by hate. “The song is a reflection of power and powerlessness; hope and hopeless- ness,” says Klemens. “That if people don't unite, or don't love, then hate will prevail. It's a state that's developing around the whole world, and maybe has been brewing for 70 years in Pales- tine and Israel. So we feel this message speaks strongly on an international scale, but also especially because the competition is held in Israel.” “We felt that many of the contra- dictions that Hatari deals with are reflected by Eurovision being hosted in Israel,” adds Matthías. “We talk about living within a system and opposing it at the same time. On a very broad scale, that's capitalism for us. In this particular field, it's the Eurovision Song Contest—which is about peace and unity—being held in a coun- try that is marked by conflict and disunity. For us, it’s a paradox that it’s supposed to be an apolitical contest, because it is so politically loaded to host it there. And that's where we see our voice coming through.” ZERO POINTS But there was disunity of opinion in Iceland as well. This came not only from pro-Israeli Icelanders, most of them fundamentalist Christians; it also came from Icelanders who believed Iceland should not partici- pate in Eurovision at all, and ought to boycott the event. The hashtag #0stig (“zero points”) began trending heavily on Twitter within minutes of Hatari’s qualification success. To this criticism, the band are philosophical. “For us, the question of boycotting was answered when RÚV decided that someone would indeed be sent,” Matthías points out. ”Because of Eurovision and the way it's organised, someone was being sent from Iceland, and if we were going to sign up and sign out, it just feels like we shouldn't have signed up in the first place. That would have been a very clear boycott on our behalf, and [pop singer and Söng- vakeppnin runner-up] Friðrik Ómar would have gone, and it would have been business as usual. We believe that by using our agenda-setting power to politicise the event, at least we would have made some use of Iceland's entry. We've already been quite success- ful in politicising the event, and we want to step it up a notch and speak our minds more freely.” THE JEWISH RESPONSE Initially, Hatari hoping to represent Iceland at Eurovision went largely ignored by the rest of the world. All that changed when in February the band issued a statement, in English, in which they challenged Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to a bout of glíma—that is, a form of traditional Icelandic wrestling. In characteristic style, the state- ment offered high stakes: if the band were to win, “Hatari reserve the right to settle within your borders establish- ing the first ever Hatari-sponsored liberal BDSM colony on the Mediterra- nean coast.” If Netanyahu were to win, “the Israeli government will be given full political and economic control of South-Icelandic Island munici- pality Vestmannaeyjar [The West- man Islands]. Members of Hatari will ensure the successful removal of the island's current inhabitants.” “He hasn't accepted,” Matthías confirms. “But that's another example of if he responds, we succeed; if he doesn't, we let it stand.” “He's a bit smarter than Lands- bankinn,” adds Klemens. “I thought about it, too,” adds Matthías. “I thought, ‘God, I hope he responds and actually wres- tles us.’ He would beat us easily. But that would still mean that the Prime Minister of the country was ‘rassling’ two Icelandic boys.” WILDFIRE BREAKS OUT The band’s challenge made its way to Israeli media, who had a field day with it. Some media outlets in the country incorrectly reported that Hatari’s song was anti-Israel and supported hate. Unsurprisingly, that misunderstand- ing spread like wildfire; it is, after all, far easier to spread misinformation than it is to correct it. Rabbi Avi Feldman, Iceland’s first rabbi, was reluctant to comment at length, but told the Grapevine, “The Eurovision Song Contest was created shortly after the second World War, when Europe was rebuilding itself, with the goal of bringing countries and peoples together in unity and peace. We are very proud of Iceland's famous music scene and incred- ible amount of talented musicians. It would be very unfortunate to use a platform of unity and togetherness to “For us it's a paradox that it’s supposed to be an apolitical contest, because it’s so politi- cally loaded to host it in Tel Aviv. And that's where we see our voice coming through.” “If we manage to overthrow capitalism, that would be a measure of success. Prefera- bly selling some branded mer- chandise along the way.”

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