Self Censorship in Art — الرقابة الذاتية في الفن

Article by Alison Fitzpatrick

AMMAN – When we think about art we often think about how it can be used as a powerful tool of self-expression. Art can display our thoughts, feelings, and emotions about diverse and difficult topics in a personal manner. At its very core, art is about freedom of expression. So, what happens when that freedom is taken away?

Restricting artistic freedom is a form of censorship. In the context of the arts, censorship refers to the repression of content that is deemed in some way offensive or objectionable by authoritative bodies. Self-censorship, however, is harder to define as it varies from person to person. Self- censorship is the act of censoring oneself and one’s outputs out of fear of cultural, political, and/or social consequences, but is not strictly enforced by a larger authority. In fact, it is something in which we all engage in our everyday lives, albeit often subconsciously. In the arts, self-censorship covers acts including suppressing the creation of polemic artworks and choosing not to publicise potentially controversial artworks online or in the gallery space. Self-censorship often occurs as an act of self-preservation, preventing negative consequences from arising as well as pre-empting direct censorship by the powers that be.

Heinrich Hoffman, Adolf Hitler inspecting confiscated artworks, 1938.

Both censorship in the arts and attempts to deconstruct it are by no means restricted to particular regions. Censorship has ultimately existed for millennia, but in recent years it has frequently been the subject of global artistic discourse. Censorship poses questions about what constitutes art itself and what art should or should not do, especially in a climate where political turmoil is at the forefront of global conversations. Moreover, levels of censorship are undeniably entangled with issues of public opinion, taste, and values at specific moments in time1. War and political conflict breed an environment of censorship because it allows those in power to maintain their regime and ideals.

Never was this more overt than in 1937 when the Entartete Kunst (Degenerate Art) exhibit in Munich was held by the Nazi Party. The exhibition attempted to denigrate modernist painting, prevent its future production, and assert the Nazi’s authority. Famous artists including Paul Klee, Henri Matisse, and Max Ernst found their works among the exhibit. The artists who were exhibited were humiliated in the press and perceived to be mad, and many artworks that were not displayed were either confiscated or burned. Otto Dix’s War Cripples perfectly encapsulates this point. Believed to have been destroyed by the Nazis, the painting only survives in photographic reproductions. It was deemed degenerate because it showed – so explicitly and unapologetically – the atrocities of World War I. In contrast, World War II Nazi propaganda presented the glory of war, and, thus, Dix’s painting had to be censored.

1937 postcard reproduction of Otto Dix’s War Cripples, 1920.
Location: University of Wisconsin-Madison.

“All censorships exist to prevent anyone from challenging current conceptions and existing institutions… The first condition of progress is the removal of censorship.” George Bernard Shaw, Mrs Warren’s Profession, 1898

Tracey Emin, Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963-1995, 1995.

The topic of censorship has given rise to varied artistic response. In the UK, 1997 saw the opening of Norman Rosenthal’s infamous Sensation exhibition which subverted notions of censorship, displaying explicit and controversial works. These included Marcus Harvey’s depiction of notorious murderer Myra Hindley and Tracey Emin’s infamous, sexually liberated, Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963-1995. The entire purpose of the exhibition was to shock the public and do away with the need for censorship in the arts altogether2. Conversely, heightened censorship can result in the emergence of artistic symbols of resistance. In Palestine, for example, after a ban on the national flag, the image of a sliced watermelon (mirroring national colours) came to symbolise political freedom and national pride. Now used by artists globally in support of Palestine, the symbol of the watermelon shows how art can take on censorship headfirst and be used as a tool of protest.

However, resisting censorship can have severe repercussions. Famous artists, including Ai Weiwei and Zehra Doğan, have seen their work routinely censored in their respective home countries because their material was deemed at odds with national ideals. Both artists were arrested for the provocative nature of their art. Ai Weiwei’s work unabashedly explores challenging topics, criticising the Chinese government and state corruption in many. Following months of house arrest in 2010, Ai Weiwei was criminally detained for alleged tax evasion after a government crackdown on political activism. Although ultimately released, this example reinforces the idea that if you do not self-censor as an artist there is a cost, and that cost can be severe. “Free speech isn’t necessarily free for some of us”, and in the case of Kurdish artist Zehra Doğan this is clear. In 2017, Doğan was arrested for her depiction of the destruction of the majority-Kurdish town by Turkish forces. Thus, by simply bringing to light the reality in which they are living, artists have been seriously punished.

Ai Weiwei, Remembering, 2009. Created from thousands of children’s backpacks.
The artwork recalls a quote from a mother about her child lost to an earthquake covered up by the state.
Location: Installation at Haus der Kunst, Munich.

Zehra Doğan, Nusaybin, 2016.
The artwork depicts the destruction of the majority-Kurdish town by Turkish forces.

The advent of new media and technologies initially appeared to present an opportunity to escape the confines of self-censorship. Whilst it is true that for many social media opened up a myriad of diverse channels for self-expression and networking among artists, it also left the door wide open for new forms of criticism. Inevitably, by reaching a greater number of people, there’s often greater backlash. Policies of self-censorship are then reinforced on the very platforms ‘created’ for freedom of expression. This is evidenced in the way that audiences also self-censor on these platforms; they self-censor their consumption of specific content. The queer, activist magazine My.Kali addresses this on their webpage, noting that rather than publicly following their social medias, audiences can subscribe to their content via email. This provides a solution for ‘those who don’t want to be outed, have their interests questioned, or be associated with a liberal publication by following us on social media’. In the realm of connection, it seems it is increasingly impossible to disconnect from societal pressures.

Outside of fear of serious legal and social consequences, self-censorship is also practised because it maintains the “portability”3 of artworks beyond their immediate cultural context. This makes them more sellable, palatable, and displayable in countries with varying degrees of permissibility in terms of artistic expression. This is often enacted for financial reasons because to express without fear of financial consequence is a privilege not everyone can afford.

So where is self-censorship in the arts heading? Censorship in any form is a barrier to artistic freedom which needs to be removed in order for the arts to flourish, improve, and expand. But it’s just not that simple because self-censorship has been instilled in all of us as soon as we entered the public realm. It is so reliant on wider societal norms that change needs to come from the symbiotic relationship between artists and the public; this means that at the same time as artists push the boundaries of what is acceptable, public attitudes must become more relaxed. Norman Rosenthal wrote that “values are always in flux”4; things that are censored today might not be tomorrow. Thus, it would also be naive to think acts of censorship will automatically decrease as time goes on. However, the first step is opening up the discussion and acknowledging that self-censorship is an issue, and artistic freedom does matter. In doing so, diverse opinions can be shared, solidarity amongst artists will be created, and with any luck something beneficial will emerge.

References
[1] James Fitzpatrick, Norman Rosenthal and Jake Chapman, ‘Art Censorship’, RSA Journal, 149 (5502), 2002, 1 (p. 55).
[2] James Fitzpatrick, Norman Rosenthal and Jake Chapman, ‘Art Censorship’, RSA Journal, 149 (5502), 2002, 2 (p.54).
[3] Lowell H. Schwartz, Dalia Dassa Kaye and Jeffrey Martini, Artists and the Arab Uprisings, (Santa Monica: 3 RAND Corporation, 2013), p. 64.
[4] James Fitzpatrick, Norman Rosenthal and Jake Chapman, ‘Art Censorship’, RSA Journal, 149 (5502), 2002, 4 (p. 55).