Rebellion resurrected:
The will of youth against
history
Intro to the Catalogue of the exhibit “Arab
Comics Today” 2018
Is it a coincidence
that Angoulême has chosen to dedicate, for a second time, an exhibition to Arab
comics, almost 3 decades after the first? Or does history repeat itself? Is it a
coincidence that this new exhibition, like the first, takes place in a context
of revolutions and wars – wars born out of dreams which, having becoming
nightmares, haunt the whole of the Arab world? Is it a coincidence that comics
today have become the most eloquent expression of this young generation who
challenged history at the first “budding” of the Arab Spring? Is it a
coincidence that comics is the medium which lends its voice to the ambitions of
this generation, its hopes and disappointments, its victories and frustrations?
At the beginning of the
1980s, in the midst of the civil war raging in Lebanon[1], a new wave of Arab comics was born, whose
message, like a voice without an echo[2], remained inaudible. In 2007, the magazine
Samandal took over the reins, showing us that crises and wars, even at
the scale of a small country, can unleash an unimaginable creativity which can
burst over national borders and set ablaze every region of the world, as if it
had just been waiting for this spark. It was thus that Magdy El Shafee’s Métro
(published in Egypt, 2008) also opened a breach, blowing a powerful gust of
freedom of expression into the surrounding cultural asphyxia. The social and political
importance of Métro made it the most discussed comic album in the media
in Egypt, which was, at that time, suffering under the crushing weight of an
agonising dictatorship.
Collectives as a lever
for change
Samandal, as a collective, and El
Shafee, as an individual, embody what characterises the new wave of Arab
comics, both in form and content. The fanzine format of the first has, however,
taken the lead on the individual practice of the second, the collective
becoming progressively the “base” around which artists organise themselves. Samandal
was the first initiative to adopt a collective structure, which allowed it to
overcome the challenges posed by the publishing market, and thus set itself up
as a model for others to follow. By founding an organisation, and relying on
private finances to publish its issues, Samandal found the means to
guarantee its longevity. It was thus able to create an independent platform
dedicated to artists (mainly the founders) looking to express themselves and
promote their work. The Lebanese economic system, which favours private sector initiatives,
has contributed to this success.
This Lebanese
initiative Samandal served as inspiration for the creation of the
Egyptian magazine TokTok in 2011, during a period when the country was
eager for change. Whilst Magdy El Shafee’s Métro had struck at the heart
of the fear surrounding the powers that be, TokTok brought together young
Egyptians searching for a platform for their work. In addition to responding to
a clear need on a national scale, TokTok soon became a real ‘Arabic oasis’, which opened its pages to
artists from all over the region, particularly in the Maghreb, benefiting from
the proximity of the countries and of their respective social, political and
economic structures. We cannot ignore the central role of workshops, organised
abroad by TokTok and Samandal, in encouraging artists from
different regions to meet and create collectives, thus cultivating spaces dedicated
to freedom of expression in different countries. It is as if the collective,
catalyst for the contemporary wave of Arab comics, constituted the ideal means
of creating independent platforms and liberating oneself from the constraints
of the publishing world. The proliferation of collectives, taking place amongst
the collapse of corrupt political regimes, is in itself extremely significant.
It was indeed in this turbulent context that a multitude of fanzines appeared,
most of which are still in print: Lab619 (Tunisia 2013), Skefkef
(Morocco 2013), Masaha (Iraq 2015), Garage (Egypt 2015), Habka (Libya
2015). Other
fanzines were also launched, but, for various reasons, did not survive, Al
Doshma (Egypt 2011), Allak Fayn (Egypt 2016), Al
Tahwila (Egypt 2012), Autostrad (Egypt 2011), Les Furies
des Glaneurs (Lebanon 2011), Al Shakmajiyya (Egypt 2014) for
example. Comic book production entered a new phase, enriched by the diversity
of contributions from artists who, for the first time could choose where to
publish their work[3]. At the very moment when the Arab world
had become more divided than ever before, and its different regions more disconnected,
comics - more than any other form of artistic expression - provided a unifying link between young
artists, thanks to the network of exchanges initiated by collectives. It has
since then become regular practice for a fanzine to publish the work of artists
from another country, who are themselves the founders of a fanzine in their own
country; or to invite an artist from a country to run a workshop somewhere else
in the Arab world[4], or to take part in round-table
discussions in Europe addressing contemporary Arab comics[5]. This phenomenon throws into question the individual
nature of certain publications and the role of their reciprocative influences.
‘I’ in the linguistic mosaic
TokTok, and in its wake Skefkef
and Lab619, were inspired by Samandal to self-publish and thus overcome
the constraints imposed by traditional methods of publication and distribution.
To do so, these non-profit, non-governmental organisations relied on
alternative financial support, such as production funds provided by various
agencies and institutions, for the most part European[6].
It is by their
different vocations and content that these initiatives distinguish themselves. Samandal
is itself an experimental platform which publishes the work of artists from
Lebanon, Arabic countries and elsewhere, in multiple languages (Arabic, English
and French). Its multilingualism reflecting the cultural diversity of Lebanon. Samandal
privileges experimentation
over visual form, to the point that the very nature of the comic strip is
brought into question[7].
TokTok, for its part, distances itself from any elitism in
form and content and focuses on themes ranging from the social and popular to
the individual or personal. Its texts are exclusively written in Arabic, both
classical or dialectal. TokTok uses a clearly narrative visual language,
quite removed from the experimental[8]. These elements have made it a model of
inspiration for multiple publications which have followed.
Skefkef developed a form similar
to that of fanzines, all in maintaining the quality, graphic design and finish
of a magazine. Each issue brings together contributions of Moroccan artists,
invited to tackle a shared theme, which is most often highly pertinent to the current
social and cultural climate of the country [9].
At the heart of this
revival of the Arab comic is the recurring question of language, which re-launched
the debate on the multiplicity of identities. If classical Arabic has
traditionally dominated the literary sphere, under the influence of Pan Arabism
ideology, dialects have progressively gained ground thanks to the social and
political interests of the Arab revolutions[10]. The young artists who advocate
the use of dialects revendicate proudly the use "I" over
"we" in respect of a cultural, ethnic and linguistic diversity, which
contests a unifiying intellectual hegemony, of which the results are disastrous.
The initiative to create these collectives is in itself a demonstration of the
desire to promote the diversity expressed in their publications. The magazine TokTok
and Garage are characterised by the use of Egyptian dialect and local
expressions, whereas Lab619, Skefkef, Masaha and Habka
differentiate themselves by their use of other dialects - Tunisian, Moroccan,
Iraqi or Libyan – to such a degree that to foreign eyes - even Arab eyes - the
linguistic, regional and cultural specificities can be difficult to decipher. A
look at the titles of the magazines illustrates their extreme local identity: TokTok (a rickshaw, popular means of
transport in Egypt), Skefkef (a cheap sandwich, popular in Casablanca),
Lab619 (referring to Tunisian barcodes), Al Shakmajiyya (a jewellery
box used for make-up) and Samandal (chameleon – a nod to the diversity
and linguistic and cultural adaptability of its content). The collectives thus
broke with the convention, established since the beginning of Arab comics, of choosing
the title of the magazine from the panoply of names common to Arabic and
Islamic heritage (Ahmed, Majed, Ali Baba, Samir, Sindbad,
Samer, Khaled, Mahdi, etc.) – names which, above all, were
systematically accompanied on the cover by a sub-heading evoking pan-arab
nationalism ideology (Oussama ‘The Magazine for the Arab Child’; Al
Arabi Alsaghir (The Little Arab Child) ‘For all the Boys and Girls in the Arab
World’; Ahmad ‘For a Muslim Generation’; Samer ‘For a Happy Arab Generation’).
The role of women and
breaking taboos
Whatever their form or
genre, today’s comics are characterised by a freedom of expression and openness
towards experimentation and personal exploration. The collectives have, since
the beginning, constituted a form of rebellion against social and political
hegemony and the constraints of tradition. They have used their publications to
explore subjects long considered taboo in Arab societies, particularly those
linked to sex, religion and social traditions. Certain comics even broach the
following controversial topics: Al Shakmajiyya: a magazine dedicated to feminism
and sexual harassment in Egyptian society; Samandal (Ça restera entre
nous, [This will stay between us]
2016): consecrated its annual to sexuality and homosexuality; not to
talk about the comic Ramadan Hardcore by Moroccan artist Hisham Habchi. Up
until now these topics had rarely been tackled in a visual narrative form.
Women artists were at the forefront of these first movements in the Arab world
which dared to defy the authorities and traditional orthodoxy concerning
women’s rights, particularly their right to bodily integrity. The high
percentage of women artists specialising in the professional comic book sector
is an important indicator of this engagement[11]. Do they, no doubt, feel more concerned
than their male counterparts by the necessity of a transformative change towards
individual freedom? Those who have raised and interrogated this issue have
sometimes been accused of ‘going too far’, leading to legal action against, and
political censorship of, certain collectives, who have since had to publish
abroad[12]. Other initiatives, born out of
revolutions demanding justice, rule of law and liberty, have used comics as an
educational tool in awareness-raising campaigns; Allak fein? and Al-Doshma
consitute prime examples.
Diversity and rebellion
against the past
A burning desire for
openness has left no subject or genre untouched: super heroes[13], science fiction, politics, entertainment,
biting satire, current celebrities[14] or the author’s emotional state[15]. No subject is barred. A space has
unfolded where the only limit is the artist’s imagination or sensibility, far
from any form of self-censorship. Another striking aspect is the almost
complete absence of subjects dealing with “glorious
History of Islam”[16], as though these young people are too
occupied by the present moment and wish to break with the past against which
they rebel. This likely explains the use of a visual aesthetic inspired by
European comics, Japanese mangas or even American animated television series[17]. Only certain Egyptian artists inscribe
their work in the local visual heritage, notably made up of caricature, which
forms an important site of collective memory in Egyptian society. It has become
common to see artists master multiple techniques, using in their work a mixture
of caricature, illustration, comics and graffiti (Mohamed Andeel, Makhlouf and
Ganzeer for example, but above all the Moroccan artists in their conquest of urban
walls).
In terms of form, these
magazines restructured their editorial content and sections to better reflect their
objectives and values – incorporating another layer of diversity. Thus the
traditional didactic structures, which had dominated magazines for children
(each distinguishing itself from the others only by the ideology it
propagated), completely disappeared. Samandal created mirror-pages which
invited the reader to turn the magazine in different directions depending on
the alphabet used, Arabic or Latin. TokTok replaced sub-sections with
profiles of famous artists, concluding by the comic remark (Made in Egypt)
or by a more visual presentation. Lab619 prefers to present the artists‘
pages with no introduction, and does not give importance to the change in the reading
direction when the stories are written in Latin script. Skefkef, on the other
hand, interlaces its illustrated pages with short stories, emphasising that the
written text is just as important as the visual aspect. It has also provided
musical elements to accompany its issues[18].
However,
these magazines are missing an important feature of modern comics; their long
series or graphic narratives. The classic “To be continued…” is almost totally
absent from all of these new magazines, perhaps because their authors cannot be
certain that this issue will be followed by another... Contributions are often
limited to concise ideas and short stories, without long narratives or continuity
between issues[19].
As if the artists, in the context of revolution, wanted to position themselves
in the present moment, that is, to focus our attention on their personal
torments, before moving onto something else. This point deserves to be
highlighted, as the region is known for its heritage of oral narrative and
never-ending stories, traditionally passed on from generation to generation (The
1001 Nights, The Saga of Banu Hilal, etc). Graphic novels
in Arabic are very rare since the publication of Métro, with the
exception of Murabba wa
Laban [Jam
and Yoghurt] by Lena Merhej; A City Neighbouring the Earth by Jorj
Abou Mhaya, Ayalo by Mustafa Youssef and Al Tahadi [The Challenge] by Omar Ennaciri. Several
others may never have seen the light of day were it not for western publishers
who brought them out in their respective foregn languages (Zeina Abirached,
Michèle Standjovski, Hamed Sulaiman, Barrack Rima, Kamal Hakim, Ralph Doumit
and the publications of ALBA - Lebanese Academy of Fine Art[20]).
Developing professional
expertise
The significance of
this current wave of Arab comic lies in the fact that it does not find its roots
in the impetuous fantasies of a handful of young artists, who, burning with a
desire, would readily seek out other horizons once their objectives are
acheived. These young, contemporary artists are fully aware of the social and
political situation which surrounds them. Most have experienced - and some, in
a very active way - opposition movements against the repressive and corrupt
systems in their countries. It is therefore with full awareness and maturity
that they have taken on these new artistic approaches, following a model which
they intend to make last. Here lies the importance of workshops, which are organised
in the hope of reinforcing the professionalization of the domain, a condition sine qua non for its survival. These workshops enable artists to meet and
create spaces for discussions, debates and the sharing of ideas, constructing a
framework of shared references and ongoing communication which promotes
solidarity and co-operation. CairoComix (the comics festival born in Cairo,
2015) is the most emblematic of these local and international gatherings. It
plays a pivotal role in nurturing this new movement and provides a solid
platform where artists can exchange experiences, discuss ideas and promote
their work.
This significant
turning point in the approach towards comics was accompanied – and in some
cases preceded – by the introduction of university courses in comics, together
with a growing interest in academic research in the field[21].
The book or the ‘lost market’
Whilst the collectives
successfully established a solid basis for the existence of a new genre of
adult comics through their fanzines, it was not the same case for graphic
novels, which continue to rely on publishing houses and conventional
distribution networks. El Shafee’s Métro was an unusual
phenomenon, and unheard of since. Its publicity and media campaign played a
major role in its distribution in the Arab world, both in spite of, and because
of, its being banned. Its censorship resulted in the opposite effect that was
intended, namely leading to broader publicity on a regional and a national
scale. Nevertheless, this also opened the eyes of the authorities to the influential
potential of this new medium, thus putting publishers under even more pressure.
Other Arab artists, who are just as able with word and pen as El Shafee, have only
be able to publish in foreign languages[22], as, after a burgeoning period in the
broad regional market, publishing has progressively shrunk to national borders.
The absence of local publishers who specialise in the production of comic book
albums is itself a factor which makes it difficult for projects to develop, insofar
as the publishers do not benefit from private investment, unlike collectives.
In this context,
digital mediums have presented an important alternative to conventional means
of publication and distribution, not to mention providing a way of navigating
increasingly intense censorship. In addition to using digital mediums, which
aid the transmission and distribution of their work in faraway places, artists
also use social media to create virtual platforms in order ‘distribute the
forbidden’. The most pertinent example remains the collective of Syrian artists
who, pursued and menaced with death threats by the Assad regime, distributed
their work on a Facebook page called ‘Comic4Syria’. This page is an irreplaceable,
creative source of documentation on the civil war in Syria, which has already
caused the death of more than half a million persons. For obvious reasons, the
contributors, unfortunately, are obliged to remain anonymous. The Moroccan
author Hisham Habchi, who published his
comic series Ramadan Hardcore during the month of Ramadan, was able to
avoid censorship thanks to the Internet. The situation is similar in Egypt,
where a large number of writers and artists are on trial and a number of local
organisations are ordered to reduce or to cease their activities, on the
pretext that they receive foreign funding to serve foreign interests, or that
they are leaking sensitive information (including statistics on human rights,
for example!). Even worse, censorship in Arab countries is not due solely to
state initiatives: it runs much deeper into civic and religious institutions. As
was seen, for example, with Samandal which was the subject of legal
proceedings for ‘offence to religion’, after a complaint was lodged by the
Catholic Church in Lebanon.
Almost a quarter of a
century ago, Angoulême Festival put Arab authors in the spotlight. Today, it
invites again a number of young artist who are re-writing the history of this
region, a region on the brink of imploding at any moment.
Angoulême thus welcomes
these young talents who are trying to alter, through the weft and weave of
their drawing and stories, what has been ripped apart, and thus realise their
dreams of liberty, justice and citizenship, but also of a re-appropriation of
the self and of the right of every individual to live freely in his or her
community.
Will they overcome the
past that has so scarred their region? Or will they be defeated once again, as
were their predecessors? Whatever the result, perhaps it is enough to
meet these young artists, discuss with them, look them in the eye, see their
dreams, recognise their determination in the challenge to the current reality, and
thus understand that for them stepping back is not an option.
George Khoury (Jad)
July 2017
[1] In 1980 the first comic
book for adults was published: Carnaval (Jad), followed by Abu-Chanab
(1981), Alf Leyla wa Leyla (1982) and Sigmund Freud (1983). This
path lead to the collective JadWorkshop
(1986) which included: Lina Ghaibeh, Wissam Beydoun, Edgar Aho, May Ghaibeh
and Shoghig Dergoghassian. The album Min Beirut
(1989) was the last publication of the group, and the collective came to an end
after a final exhibition, Out of Communication, in 1992.
[2] Mazen Kerbaj is the only
exception in terms of consistent continuity, although his production is
primarily in French. Kerbaj remains a ‘lone wolf’, unassociated
with any particular collective, and is the most prolific author on
the Lebanese scene. His best known album in Arabic is hazihi al-hikaya tajri
(Dar-Al-Adab, 2010).
[3] Zeina Abirached, Mazen
Kerbaj, George Boumhaya, Joumana Medlej, Ralph Doumit (Lebanon), Mohammed El Bellaoui (Rebel
Spirit), Omar Ennaceri (Morocco), Magdy El Shafee, Mustafa Youssef (Egypt).
[4] Samandal, TokTok and Skefkef are the most
active in this domain.
[5] The 2015 Barcelona
platform brought
together artists from four collectives: Samandal, TokTok, Skefkef and
Lab619. This meeting was preceded by a similar, larger, one at Erlangen
in 2008, and we should not forget the influence of the round tables established
in 2015 by CairoComix.
[6] French, German and Italian
cultural centres have contributed to the funding of Samandal (Lena Merhej, 2015, “Meeting in the Land of 1000
Balconies”, La Capella,
Institut de Cultura de Barcelona). TokTok is supported by funding from
the European Union and Skefkef is aided by local donors (interview with
Salah Malouli of Skefkef and Mohamad Rahmo, founder of the cultural agency
‘Madness’, 2017).
[7] “ (…) [The story must be beautiful, the
drawings aren’t that important…]” (Lena Merhej, 2015, “Meeting in the Land of 1000
Balconies”).
[8] “If an artist puts forward an experimental
work, I tell him go to Samandal (Mohamad Al-Shinnaoui, 2015, “Meeting in the Land of 1000
Balconies”).
[9] Skefkef underlines the cultural and ethnic
diversity of Morocco where Amazigh
(Berber language), was recently recognised as the second official language.
(Interview with Salah Malouli, Casablanca, July 2017).
[10] It is important to note here that all comics in the
region were published or controlled by state-run instituions. The example of
adult comics using Arabic dialect, in the 1980s in Lebanon, was an exception.
[11] A quarter of the Skefkef and more
of Samandal artists are young women.
There are almost twice as many women solo authors of albums as men, among them:
Zeina Abirached, Lena Merhej,
Joumana Medlej (Lebanon), Zineb Benjelloun, Zeinab Fassiqi (Morocco), Noha Habaieb (Tunisia).
[12] Samandal chose to
focus its latest issue on sexuality in France, as a co-production with Alifbata
(Ça
restera entre nous,
Alifbata/Samandal, 2016)
[13] The series Malaak
by Jouman Medlej (Lebanon 2007) and 99 about Islamic super heroes by
Nayef Moutaweh (Kuwait 2006).
[14] The character of
“Al-Sayess” by Mohamad El-Shennawy, mascot of the TokTok magazine.
[15] The Samandal
artists are pioneers in this, as they don't mention or make reference to the
‘Arab Spring’, whilst the others began in revolutionary circumstances and
embraced the activism that went with them.
[16] Morocco remains an
exception with the series Tarikhuna, in Amazigh.
[17] In Morocco for example,
today’s young artists
grew up reading comics like Spirou, in the absence of any local production. (Interview with the Skefkef collective, 2017). In other
publications, the influence of mangas and cartoon series broadcast on the Cartoon
Network is clear.
[18] Skefkef’s formula
is based on an artists‘ workshop in Casablanca who come together to work on a particular local theme, as well
as calling on alternative music bands to work on the same theme and take part
in the publication.
[20] The Lebanese Academy
of Fine Art (ALBA) has been
the training ground for generations of artists who make up the majority of
potential actors in Lebanon.
[21] L’Insitute Nationale des Beaux-Arts (Tétouan – Morocco), LAcadémie libanaise des beaux-arts - Alba (Lebanon)
are the first, and maybe only, academic insitutions to propose a full academic
program in this domain. The Alba has trained generations of Lebanese
illustrators, which form the majority of comics artists in Lebanon. The Mutaz and Rada Sawaf
Arabic Comics Initiative of the American University of Beirut,
founded in 2014, plays a pioneering role in the domain of
academic research in the comic genre in the Arab world, and also supervises the
annual Mahmoud Kahil Prize for artists working in comics, caricature and illustration.
[22] Mazen Kerbaj, Zeina
Abirached, Michèle Standjovski and Sleiman El-Ali for example.
