Artistic expression can be used as a therapy for children living in war zones and suffering from psychological trauma. The mission of the Museum of Children’s Art (MOCHA) in Oakland, San Francisco Bay, is “to ensure that the arts are a fundamental part of the lives of all children”. In recent years, MOCHA has exhibited artwork by Iraqi children based on their experience during the US invasion and following occupation. In one of those pictures, one could see a helicopter shooting into a field of flowers. The museum also exhibited paintings made during World War II by American children, featuring images of burning airplanes, sinking ships, and a sad girl next to a Star of David. The planned exhibition – “A Child’s view from Gaza” – was no different in its content: the drawings are overloaded with tanks, helicopters, missiles, guns and explosions, whereas the Star of David is now featured on flags, F16 bomber jets and soldiers’ uniforms, since it is an ubiquitous Israeli symbol that Palestinian children living under military occupation see on a daily basis.
The Middle East Children’s Alliance (MECA), which was partnering with MOCHA to present the exhibit, has been working on this project for several months with children in Gaza aged 9 to 11. They were asked to draw from their experience of “Operation Cast Lead” launched by the Israeli forces on 27 December 2008, followed by twenty-two days of unrelenting aerial attacks coupled with an intensive ground invasion, which killed over 1,400 Palestinians, 342 of whom were children. The civilian casualties were compounded by the unprecedented destruction of buildings across the Gaza strip, including hospitals, schools, mosques, 20,000 houses, police stations and United Nations compounds. After losing homes and family members, the children who survived these wanton attacks suffered deep mental wounds, if not physical ones. In the award-winning documentary “Tears of Gaza”, Norwegian director Vibeke Lokkeberg tells the story of three children trying to cope in Gaza’s impoverished infrastructure. Yahya is a little boy who explains that “when [his] father was murdered, it felt as if [he] lost the whole world”. Rasmia cannot forget the horrific vision of dismembered corpses she had to step over to seek help when her house was demolished, whereas Amira, who needs crutches to walk after an explosion injured her leg, wishes that she “had gone” with her younger brothers who were shot at while running to get her an ambulance.
Medical Aid for Palestine has been offering psychological help to the children, who form 50 percent of the 1.6 million Gaza dwellers, by organising drawing workshops, in which they could express their fear, anger and insecurity in a non-violent, artistic way, and thus counter symptoms like aggressiveness and behavioural disorders due to internalised trauma. Some of these drawings were selected for “A Child’s view from Gaza” exhibition project in Oakland, filling the young artists with a sense of pride and joy. After being told that their message and experiences would reach the outside world, they were thrilled to symbolically break the siege on Gaza through their art. Little did they know about the extent of the siege, which apparently stretches as far as California where pro-Israel organisations actively lobby to silence Palestinian voices. MOCHA came under enormous pressure by these financially powerful Zionist groups to reverse its decision to display Gaza children’s art in the exhibition which was scheduled on 24 September 2011. Two weeks before the opening date, the museum announced the cancellation of the show, arguing that the drawings were not “appropriate”.
It would indeed seem inappropriate for a child to draw bombs dropping, people getting shot and dismembered bodies, had these not been lived experiences. The recurring themes in the children’s artwork are violence, destruction and grief: violence of the military (in its human and technical forms), destruction of lives (human and vegetal, with the uprooting of olive trees by bulldozers featuring the colonisation process) and infrastructure (houses, mosques, schools), grief of mothers, children, birds, trees and even sun. Nationalist symbolism is used to express the feeling of oppression, with the Israeli military boot crushing the Palestinian flag, the Israeli uniform terrorising a child near a map of Palestine, and a missile in the colours of both American and Israeli flags, whereas the sentiment of segregation is best depicted in the impossible climbing of the Apartheid Wall and in a little girl crying behind prison bars, symbolising Gaza under siege. In spite of the bright colours, the fire, smoke and dark clouds make the air difficult to breathe, while the screams of the people, raising their arms towards the sky, are not even drowned by the deafening sounds of war planes and explosions. The viewers of this artwork can smell and hear as intensely as they can see, and they are left with a general feeling of suffocation, created by the siege of their own sensations.
Censorship can only add to the suffocation of these children, whose voices are being stifled. It acts like yet another blockade on Gaza. The young artists have come to know that their work is “anti-Semitic”, according to the American Jewish Community Relations Council (JCRC). Their family members, friends or neighbours have been killed, their homes and schools demolished, and now their means of expression are being suppressed. How to explain to a child that his or her drawings have been censored? Isn’t it as hurting as saying: “You are not a good artist”, or “Your art is offensive”, or “Nobody is interested in what you have to say and what you feel, so keep it to yourself”? The whole purpose of art therapy is to help exteriorise the trauma, not only by giving it an artistic expression, but by ensuring a public reception. The healing process is not only about saying, but also about being heard.
The paradox of censorship is that it can give more publicity to the censored art pieces than their mere exhibition. The shutting down of “A child’s view from Gaza” led to an international public outcry, after which the drawings were largely circulated in the social media. The day when the exhibit was planned to open, more than 500 people stood outside MOCHA carrying the children’s artwork in their hands, celebrating the young artists and their freedom of expression. The museum board members announced that they would consider putting the show back on, but it would have to be “modified”. In response, the Middle East Children’s Alliance stated that: “We at MECA made a commitment to the children of Gaza to share their experiences and perspectives, and consider any modifications to the art exhibit as a form of censorship. Children everywhere deserve to be heard, but we have an even greater responsibility to listen to the stories of children under siege and who survived Israel’s brutal military assault in 2008-2009.” Finally, the Palestinian children’s art exhibition found another venue in Oakland. Many art lovers and justice seekers, moved by an immense feeling of sympathy amplified by the censorship, helped the young artists to break the Gaza siege.
Now the drawings have been published in a book called "A Child's View from Gaza: Palestinian Children's Art and the Fight Against Censorship", which you can buy from this website.
Dalel Benbabaali
