Reykjavík Grapevine - 07.06.2019, Blaðsíða 14

Hard criticism
From the moment Hatari announ-
ced their intention to leverage their
participation in Eurovision as a plat-
form to draw attention to the Pales-
tinian cause, responses have been
mixed, but none of them have been
lukewarm. The same could also be
said of “Klefi/Samed,” the single and
video released by Hatari and Bashar.
Just a quick glance at the comments
on Hatari’s Facebook page, or at the
YouTube comments under the video,
shows people saying that neither
Palestine nor Palestinians exist; that
the use of the Palestinian flag consti-
tutes an attack against Israel, and
so forth. The most prominent criti-
cism came from the Jerusalem Post,
in an article from Barry Shaw enti-
tled “In Iceland, hate has prevailed
from the Nazi SS to Eurovision 2019,”
which documents the history of Nazi
sympathising in Iceland. Historical
fact, but the connection to Hatari or
Eurovision is tenuous at best.
Few Icelanders had any knowledge of
musician Bashar Murad until May, when
anti-capitalist BDSM techno lads Hatari
dropped a post-Eurovision video—shot
in Palestine during the Israel-hosted
competition—for a new song called
“Klefi/Samed.” Co-written with Bashar,
the single spotlights his powerful,
haunting vocals, with lyrics that are a
defiant cry for freedom (“samed” means
“steadfast”).
Released on the eve of Hatari’s post-
Eurovision tour of Iceland—during
which Bashar appeared onstage as a
guest vocalist—the video attracted
considerable attention, not least for the
raising of the Palestinian flag.
“People think that we're attacking
someone [in the video] just by raising a
flag,” says Bashar. “But we're not attack-
ing anyone. We're just saying that we
exist. As a Palestinian, I feel that my
identity is constantly under attack. Most
of the negative comments are saying
'Palestine doesn't exist, Palestinians
don't exist.' It's very disheartening.
That's why I felt it was so important to
raise the flag in the video.”
The story behind how the single came
to be made is interesting in itself, but it’s
Bashar’s story that ought to command
more attention, for his background, his
dreams, and the work that he continues
to diligently produce against the odds.
Breaking down
the norms
As Hatari prepared to travel to Tel Aviv
to represent Iceland in the Eurovision
Song Contest, they stated in numerous
interviews that they intended to high-
light the Palestinian cause. On the side-
lines of the contest, they also wanted
to collaborate with Palestinian artists.
Mutual friends put Hatari and Bashar in
touch, and when Hatari suggested work-
ing together, he was receptive.
"There was a lot of pressure on them
to boycott Eurovision,” he says. “I myself
thought it would be best for people to
boycott. But there should be room to
find different ways to show solidarity
and challenge the system, and I thought
that this band could do that. Of the 43
participants at Eurovision, I think they
were the only ones who commented on
the occupation, or about anything that's
going on there."
“You couldn’t do that in
Palestine!”
One of the more frequent criticisms
levelled at Hatari during Eurovision was
that they couldn’t
possibly perform in
Palestine because
the country is intol-
erant and homo-
phobic—a criticism
Bashar made the
point of addressing.
"Israel is painted
as a safe haven for
queer Palest in-
ians,” he says. “This
might be true in
many situations,
but it's not right to
generalise a whole population as homo-
phobic. And it's not right legitimise
occupation by saying 'Palestinians do
this.' Furthermore, Tel Aviv is the only
bubble in Israel that's very accepting of
queer people. There was a gay parade in
Jerusalem a few years ago, and a Haredi
Jew stabbed one of the people walking in
the parade—but I don't then generalise
that “all Jews or all Israelis hate queer
people.” It's an argument that doesn't get
us anywhere, and it's exhausting. How
do you get through to those people who
are being brainwashed?"
At the same time, he cautions that
those who want to show support for
him or Palestine as a whole mind their
words. “I don't like seeing comments
that say ‘fuck the Jews.’ That's not what
I'm about at all,” he says. “That's very
frustrating. They think they're help-
ing by saying stuff like that, but that's
not what I'm going for, at all. We want
peace, at the end of the day, we want to
be recognised and we want justice. We
don't want to talk shit about another
people."
Doubly divided
Bashar was raised in East Jerusalem,
and says it's in many ways doubly
divided; separated from the rest of
the city and from the rest of Palestine
itself.
"East Jerusalem is under Israeli
military occupation, under inter-
national law,” Bashar explains. “But
recently [US President Donald] Trump
decided—I don't know why—that it's
the undivided capital of Israel. This
disregards all the basic agreements
detailing how, when the Palestinian
state is established, East Jerusalem will
be the capital of Palestine.”
The Palestinian scene
However, there is the Palestine Music
Expo, started by Martin Goldschmidt
and Palestinian artists. Held in Ramal-
lah every April, PMX is a three-day festi-
val of Palestinian artists with music
delegates from all over the world. And
for those who cannot make it to PMX
but want to check out Palestinian music,
Bashar recommends the Spotify playlist
Palestine Sounds.
With all these challenges at play,
Bashar’s dream, ultimately, is to be able
to keep doing what he is doing. “I just
want to be a major pop LGBT icon, like
Lady Gaga and Freddie Mercury,” he says.
“My dream is to keep performing. That's
what I love the most. And at the same
time, raising awareness and telling
people our stories,
because when you're
a Palestinian musi-
cian, you can't just
be a musician. It's
always going to be
political somehow.
Just being Pales-
tinian is political.
Everything you do
is a political state-
ment. So it's impor-
tant to me to keep
performing and
keep making music,
and to create a space where people can
be themselves and be accepting of every-
one and not to judge people based on the
colour of their skin, or their background,
or their gender."
“I just want
to be a major
pop LGBT icon,
like Lady Gaga
and Freddy
Mercury.”
“Just Being
Palestinian
Is Political”
An interview with queer Palestinian musician
and Hatari collaborator Bashar Murad
Bashard Murad, half way through his Icelandic tour with Hatari
Words:
Andie Fontaine
Photos:
Patrick Onkovic &
Brynjar Snær
14 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 09— 2019News
“It's important
for me to keep
performing, and
to create a space
where people can
be themselves.”
Bashar takes the stage with Hatari in Reykjavík