Freedom: The Power to Say No

In October 1988, during the screening of my film Bikutsi Water Blues at the Carthage Film Festival, I dared to speak about freedom: the freedom to choose a subject matter, the freedom of style, far from the classic, distinct categories of documentary and fiction. The freedom to say out loud what ninety years of oppression had prevented us from saying.

I shall always remember the sarcastic response of some of my fellow filmmakers, and one's comment: ‘Ideas like that and the film you just made can ruin a career’.

With the upheaval taking place all over the world these past few years, I shall not dwell on such themes here, for they are now out in the streets today. I shall limit my reflection to freedom, the corollary of both personal and collective creativity, and well-being.

Schematically speaking, the world today is divided into two blocks: the North and the South. In the North, as in the South, there are those at the top and those at the bottom. Those at the top are comfortably installed and above all do not want change. Some at the bottom struggle so that everybody may have at least the bare minimum, so that the majority can envisage daily life as something other than a nightmare. When those at the bottom can no longer survive and die like dogs, those at the top shed a tear, collect rice, books, pencils, and call the media to show their ever-so generous solidarity.

Responding to an urgency without attacking the roots of the ill (especially when you have the means to and are in part responsible for them) is a sophisticated form of cynicism. In six-month's time, tanning on the beach, they’ll say: ‘We were there, we did all we could for them, so tragic, Africa!’ And someone will retort: ‘But don't forget, we have our homeless too, we have to do something for them’.