#21 / DREAMING OF A HOME FOR THE FREE WORD

Welcome to issue twenty-one of The Attention Span Newsletter by me, Canan “Ja’anan” Marasligil. I’m a writer, a literary translator and an artist based in Amsterdam. Every other week, I take the time to reflect and offer a glimpse of how I see and feel the world through the lens of culture, art, translation, poetry and literature.

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In 2013, I was a translator in residence at the Free Word Centre in London, an organisation and space (in Clerkenwell) that unfortunately does not exist any more. Free Word was a centre (unique in Europe, I believe) focussed on the intersection of free expression, literature, and literacy. This created a very special place for creativity and encounters, for discourse on freedom of expression, literacy, reading, writing, translation, and imagination, to be created, discussed and shared on many levels. Nowadays, with the violence of wars and extremism in and at our doors —friends in Western European, let’s not think this is all happening “elsewhere”. Where do we stand as Russia’s full scale invasion of Ukraine is entering its third year (or a war finishing its first decade, as Ukrainians rightly point out), and a genocide is unfolding in Gaza right in front of our eyes? What do we do as artists, writers, translators, thinkers, and all of us working in the field of words and the building and expressing of imagination? How can there be imagination where we restrict freedom of expression? In this context, and more than ever, I miss the presence of a space like Free Word.

The impact of Free Word on my life is much greater than the year I spent working there. I am still engaged with many of the organisations who were part of Free Word, including English PEN – for whom I’ve been doing work from writing reader reports to giving talks on literary translation, The Literary Consultancy whose community for writers called “Being a Writer” I recently joined, Arvon whose classes and events I like to check, the Poetry Translation Centre with whom I never stopped working, from giving translation workshops online and offline, to translating poetry: we have collaborated on two chapbooks from Turkish (published in 2017), and in May 2024, a new collection of poetry by Karin Karakaşlı is coming out (translated by me and poet Sarah Howe). And there is the community of writers and translators I have been part of for more than a decade, and I feel that connection keeps growing offline and online, which is beautiful. One of the most empowering activities this group of people organise every year (or participate in) is International Translation Day.

The publication and archiving of narratives of the imagination, of fiction, of poetry, of literary creation in general, are extremely important in times of war and crisis, especially when certain voices are consciously being erased by mainstream narratives in the media and political discourse. As a hub for literature in all its forms, Free Word allowed the possibility for a response on different levels to what was happening in the world and how it affected the different communities it was associated with. Not only did it offer solace in times of doubt and suffering, it has also been able to be active in solidarity. Defending journalists, poets, writers, translators, anyone expressing themselves with the written word, is an ongoing process which requires a collective effort.

I’ve been thinking about Free Word a lot these days, I am sad to see that freedom of expression is not protected for all of us writers and artists in our Western European societies —which have always looked at many contexts from a pedestal when it came to protecting freedom of expression for writers, journalists, artists and activists attacked in countries like Turkey, Iran, China and elsewhere. But while we kept looking “afar”, we forgot to apply the same mechanisms of freedom in our own societies. I know cultural workers, academics and writers in different Western European countries who are suffering from the current backlash on the views they express about the Israeli government’s actions against the Palestinian people, which pushes many into silence. An artist voicing their wish for a cease fire is easily labelled antisemitic and their work withdrawn from a show. Academic staff are faced with a lack of resources and support in the face of ongoing polarization in and outside the classroom.

The rise of antisemitism is scaring me deeply, yet let’s not forget that antisemitism has been on the rise way before 7 October, as extreme right groups keep gaining power in many Western European countries. Thinking that people become more antisemitic because they defend Palestinian freedom is a constructed narrative that scares me even more. This does not help the fight against antisemitism, or for justice, which should be a fight for all. It is absurd that we should be accused of hatred as we raise our voices for a cease fire in Gaza and demand that a government that has lost its sense of humanity stop killing innocent people. Accusations of antisemitism have become a powerful weapon for silencing in these lands that are still living with the guilt of having committed horrors themselves in the past. But the silencing doesn’t only happen against opponents of the Israeli government’s current genocidal strategy. There are also Palestinian voices demanding a more nuanced discourse on their own liberation that would include looking inwards and being critical of those in power or leading the cause, and those voices, too, are being silenced as they’re told “now is not the time”.

If not now, then, when?

How do we create the spaces where free expression can exist on many levels – from reflection to imagination, where we can indeed disagree without stopping to work for a common cause: justice, freedom, and the right to exist without violence, for everyone. I can already hear some of you whispering, “you’re so naïve, Canan”. And maybe I am. Maybe, I am not cut for fighting on a field, only for reflection and imagination, that’s what I’m good at (or only good for). A privileged position to sit and talk from, as I do not risk being killed. That, to me, is reason enough to keep thinking and writing. That is also why I refuse to be caught inside manipulative discourses that only but stop us from creating spaces for solidarity and action we are in desperate need of, especially on an institutional level –because the individuals, independent entities, and collectives, they are doing the hard work already. I am not advocating for institutionalising solidarity, but rather to bring our efforts together so that we can achieve change on different levels. I believe that a physical space like Free Word should exist, so that many organisations can use their resources and outreach, to propose spaces of encounter and dialogue, to also enable the protection of freedom of expression for a variety of communities. A common space where writers, translators, makers of literature, but also readers, publishers, education organisations and anyone involved with literature, literacy, and the promotion of the free word, can think, create and share knowledge.

With a lack of a collective space, I see that many literary organisations remain silent as they don’t have the tools and resources to respond publicly to what is happening in the world. Writing and publishing statements is far from enough, there is also the following up and acting on one’s words, but also responding to backlash, making sure you can care and support people who are attacked and silenced. We need a space where we will never need to wait for a mediatised urgency to give our attention to major issues facing our societies, because it will be part of the very reason we exist. So that we won’t forget the many struggles going on in many places: Iranian women are still fighting for their lives, Turkish philanthropist Osman Kavala is still in prison (since 2017!), anti-Muslim hate speech keeps rising in India, and the list goes on as none of us can individually show up for every single cause, but collectively we can do better. We can care for a variety of issues, make connections between them (hello translation!), and create a safer space for the communities we’re involved with.

In this globalised world, we cannot only think in terms of nations. No matter where we are based, we should remember that we live among people coming from many geographies and political contexts, and that altogether, we complexify the fabric of our society.

None of us create in a vacuum. I cannot ignore the violence I see every day in the media (social and mainstream), even if with one switching off gesture I can make it go away, the reality stays, and it is part of our lives. This reality of everyday violence is affecting us all as a society, no matter what our opinions are. It affects our well-being, our mental health. It destroys our imagination, pulls our pen away from the page. Our access to the free word is uncertain at times, inexistent at others. Right now, it is certainly not thriving.

This is why I dream of a home for the free word in every city. Close your eyes and imagine your own city with a space where literary festivals, funding organisations, a few independent publishers, a writers’ guild and other makers unions, organisations for free expression, others working with schools to bring poetry to the classroom, activists and civil society would work and create under one roof open to the public. Imagine we could all be gathered in that space where we would exchange ideas, knowledge, and resources, where events and encounters can happen, where books can be written and read, where we can disagree and build discourses that will help us grow instead of silencing each other. A space open to all to live and imagine, to exist in a free wor(l)d. My stance is either naïve or visionary, time only will tell. As I will keep dreaming and working on making this a reality, I hope to do good in the process. Even if a Free Word Centre in my city will never exist in the flesh, the possibility of its existence might help us move towards practices that will allow the free word to exist in all the spaces we create.

READ
I came across this book Translation and Race by Corine Tachtiris on X (it is sometimes a useful platform, especially with many literary translators’ present). It is available in open access. I’ve been following Tachtiris for a while, and I’m sure this book is a valuable addition to discourses on race in translation. Here’s how it is described: “Translation and Race brings together translation studies with critical race studies for a long-overdue reckoning with race and racism in translation theory and practice. This book explores the "unbearable whiteness of translation" in the West that excludes scholars and translators of color from the field and also upholds racial inequities more broadly.”

WATCH
Meeting the Man: James Baldwin in Paris directed by Terence Dixon. I have recently subscribed to MUBI, which is an excellent streaming platform with a very rich collection of films, right after I saw an ad on Instagram (ha, these are sometimes useful!) about this short documentary about James Baldwin in Paris. In 1970, a British film crew set out to make a literary portrait of James Baldwin set in Paris, insisting on setting aside his activism. The author visits Parisian landmarks and reflects on revolution, colonialism, and what it means to be Black in Europe—while bristling at the filmmakers’ questions. The MUBI team sums it up perfectly on the film’s page: “Tense, combative, discursive: A meeting with James Baldwin doesn’t quite go according to plan for a group of presumptuous white filmmakers in this rarely seen, Paris-set short film. An illuminating snapshot of Baldwin’s intellectual world view that bristles with friction and ideas.” You can watch it online if you’re a subscriber.

LISTEN
A friend of mine has suggested me to follow The afirka podcast, and I’m so happy she did! I haven’t caught up on all episodes, but I highly recommend you check it out, maybe start with an episode that speaks to you. The podcast is part of a wider organisation, which describes itself as follows: “afikra |عفكرةis a global organization that aims to promote intellectualism and the diversity and richness of the Arab world’s cultures and histories. Through our events globally, our podcasts online and our academy courses, we've built a global community of volunteers, thinkers, and explorers who are reshaping the story about the Arab world together.”

SKETCHBOOK PAGES

Since I’ve been illustrating my essay above with images from the Anselm Kiefer exhibition I have visited at the Museum Voorlinden, instead of my usual notebook or sketchbook pages, I am sharing details I have captured from Kiefer’s insanely impressive giant sketchbooks.

All photographs in this issue were taken by Canan Marasligil during the exhibition Anselm Kiefer - Bielderstreit on show at Museum Voorlinden from 14 October 2023 to 25 February 2024.

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FROM THE ARCHIVES

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ABOUT

Canan “Ja’anan” Marasligil (she/they) is a writer, literary translator and artist based in Amsterdam. They established The Attention Span website and its newsletter to publish their work independently: making the time to reflect, analyse and imagine.

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When quoting or sharing content, make sure to attribute it to the author. Unless otherwise stated, all content (writing, photography, design) created and published in this newsletter is authored by me, Canan “Ja’anan” Marasligil.