Long Read

“In the case of my country – what is the conflict? In the Syrian situation, it is difficult to define the conflict. First of all, it was a revolution against dictatorship. So, you might call it a civil war - but I wouldn’t call it like that. I don’t like to say civil war because the conflict didn’t start as a civil war.  I think it takes a lot of terms to describe the conflict. I don’t believe it is civil war, but at the same time it's also not a revolution. We still have the dictator. And a lot of different international governments are interfering in the situation; a lot of entities with their own agendas…

Also, natural disasters can be conflict in a way. In order to respond to natural disasters, you need the same values like in war – solidarity, reconciliation, social cohesion. You need the same values to move on, to escape natural disasters. I figured this out in the recent earthquake. Conflict is a wide range term.  

And besides that, I think there is no need to ask about the conflict itself. Even the conflict is a result of something else. So, we need to find the reasons of the conflict in order to discover what the solutions are, and how to solve these issues. 

War is looking similar in all countries and regions. But you have different solutions in each war or in each case based on the causes of the conflict. The result (e.g. the armed conflict/ war) doesn’t matter here. We need to look for the reasons. Different reasons demand for different solutions.  

We have the same war everywhere. A war, at the end, is a war. Or if you like the term conflict. A conflict is a conflict.” (Excerpt from an interview conducted by The Festival Academy on Zoom, 2023)

"I am MENA program manager with a small Global non-profit called Build Up. I am based in Beirut where peace, peacebuilding, conflict, arms and no arms, crisis and no crisis is all very prevalent and in the headlines all the time. I would like to provoke a little bit today and speak about some concrete examples and about how peace is spoken about in my context and then maybe end with some kind of cautious food for thought and actions.

I can offer you a personal account of an experience with the terms peace and peacebuilding that are a bit civil society oriented because of my work experience. But they are also very personal and very painful and very serious and really affect people's lives. They offer a contrast between the flowery image of what peace and peacebuilding might be versus what we can see on the ground and places that are globally known as hot conflict-stricken areas or fragile contexts.  

What brings me peace is the notion that peace and peacebuilding can be complexified. And I have made peace with the fact that peacebuilding is a term that seems to have been created to bring peace to the minds of colonizers and the systems that they control. 

How do we define Peace and Peacebuilding at Build Up? Peace is not just the absence of violent conflict but a society in which everyone can thrive. To build peace is to use non-violent means to reconcile differences and to collectively transform relationships and structures in a way that is inclusive just and sustainable. 

At Build Up we have been trying to complexify the term for some time now. We ask what it means to say negative/positive peace. We try to separate between how peace and violence affect us as individuals and the root systemic causes that cause radical change that harms people. On this journey of a defining and complexifying peace and peacebuilding I couldn't help but kind of bring together the common threads that I see from Lebanon where I'm from and from Yemen which is a place that I've worked.

Systemic Peacebuilding in Lebanon: In Lebanon there are multiple layers of financial crises, maybe some of you heard, we had a really big explosion two years ago. That incident wasn't armed at all and wasn't a 'war kind of conflict' or anything that divided the city per se. But it destabilized and disoriented a whole population and called for a lot of intervention from outside to ameliorate some of the effects of the violence that was struck on the people.

We had a peacebuilding process after the Civil War in Lebanon which happened from 1975 to 1991 and we are still seeing its remnants today. We are still seeing people who come in and want to do peacebuilding interventions about formerly conflicted groups trying to have dialogues together etc. This is a legacy that still lives in Lebanon now. It is interesting that peacebuilding remained something that people wanted to intervene on the basis of after something like the Beirut explosion where you can very clearly define a unidirectional institution (the regime) which caused this damage, death and destruction to people. 

Yet, it was the individuals who had this narrative thrust upon them of finding peace. It was something that needed to start with individuals on the insides, something that organizations and institutions would encourage people to find as their responsibility and to then bring to their communities and try to live that legacy forward. It was frustrating to see that responsibility thrust upon individuals when the problem was clearly systemic.

There is a root cause that is causing chronic violence or a chronic absence of peace in the lives of people in this country and yet there is no responsibility taken from the big institutions from where this violence comes from.

Harmful Narratives in Yemen: And it was also striking to see how this was happening in Yemen. The harmful narratives that indeed started to make peace a dirty word. Not because people don't want peace but because the people who were advocating for peace started to become synonymous with harmful actions done to communities on both sides of the conflict.

Even those who were neutral, started to fear us (e.g. Build Up) coming in with an intervention that was labeled “peacebuilding”. Because for them it meant that we were on the side of oppressive governments who came in top-down and with unidirectional narratives, and who did not understand what it means to erase neutralize and sanitize language to a point where we cannot even talk about conflict anymore. And that's not what peace is.
We can't have peace when we erase conflict, we can only have it when we engage with the conflict that surrounds us." (This text is an excerpt of Miras speech at the Atelier For Young Festival Managers in Nicosia 2022)

"Yesterday, I mentioned Maria Todorova's book 'Imagining The Balkans', which continues the ideas of Said’s Orientalism, framing the Balkans as 'the Other' of Europe, a place perceived as barbaric and turbulent. But within the Balkans, we also see each other as 'the Other', leading to internal polarities based on different values shaped by history, community development, and communication both within the region and with the outside world.

In this context, it's crucial not only to consider how we communicate with external others but also how we engage with 'the Others' within our region. This involves understanding power dynamics and how power is distributed. For example, in Macedonia, where 60% of the population is Macedonian and 40% is Albanian, the majority must recognize their power and find ways to distribute it effectively.

Overcoming these internal and external borders is essential, and cultural work must focus on opening channels for communication and production that go beyond top-down solutions, which often fail to address the real needs of our societies.

The differences in values within the Balkans are vast, extending across religious, cultural, and social dimensions. The region, once primarily Christian, now includes Muslims, and once had Jewish communities before they were expelled during World War II. The presence of various religious and cultural identities further complicates the landscape, requiring thoughtful approaches to navigate and bridge these divides.

These challenges are present across different levels—be it with the LGBTIQ* community, religious groups, or ethnic backgrounds. These issues vary by generation; the experiences of my grandparents differ from those of my parents, and our perspectives are changing. 

In all these countries, the independent cultural sector has made a significant effort to redistribute power and explore models for better communication among communities. This approach is not just about raising questions but also about provoking critical thinking that fosters reflection and dialogue.

We strive not to label things explicitly but to remind people that, according to our constitutions, the arts allow for freedom of expression without censorship. We use this as an opportunity to continue reflecting and raising questions that may not be addressed in other political arenas. 

I want to emphasize how we managed to change the right-wing regime in North Macedonia, a process that began with cultural actions. The most crucial aspect was how we connected across different sectors, engaging in dialogue with civil society, students, and the next generation. This collective effort culminated in what we called the "Colorful Revolution," which ultimately led to the fall of the right-wing government.

This experience gives me hope that power can indeed be redistributed, but we must constantly think about how to achieve this—not only within the civil sector but also by considering how to build or reshape institutions. These institutions need to embrace and address the diversities we live with and within." (The text is an excerpt from a panel discussion at the Atelier for Arts and Production Managers Elefsina-Beirut 2022)

“Many crises of recent decades have shown us the fragility of humanity. We have been facing existential threats in Afghanistan, Mali, Syria, Burkina Faso, Israel, Palestine, and recently with Russia's invasion of Ukraine, as an example among others. Conflict zones are very sensitive and vulnerable areas. In the scenario of conflicts, we should reconsider how we manage our festivals.

In this note, I will share a few questions and proposals, following various workshops in Montreal, Canada, in June 2022 during the Festival Academy. A social transformation festival is supposed to be a place of gathering, sharing, and security. But how safe do you feel in a conflict zone? How do you engage the festival in a region in conflict? How do you unite people in vulnerable areas? A conflict region means insecurity, fragility, wickedness, and extremism. How does the festival become resilient and a tool of resistance or conflict resolution?

The need: The needs that I have noted while working with different groups of people are, first of all, the need for expression, the need to express oneself freely, to say what is inside. The need to be listened to and to be heard. It's the need to be loved, the need to feel human, to come together, to (re)humanize. I mean by making oneself listened to and expressing themselves the fact of being able to tell the why, the how, the case of their respective stories.

The approach: Over the years, I have been able to develop my own methodology and technique, being an autodidact, my own approach toward those people who are in urgent need. Toward those people who have had no choice but, on the one hand, to leave their house, their territory by constraint because of war, terrorism, and famine, and on the other hand, others who have been incarcerated. So, the technique that I use is to go through a certain number of games, 2 or 3 games per group, then divide the group into small group formats that lead everyone to be on the same level as the others. Games that lead to freedom from these prejudices, games that lead to participation without making any effort, games that lead to gradually opening up to each other and also being available to listen to others' interaction. Games that lead us to leave the state of the adult to become children. It is very important that it must have, above all, the goal of creating a healthy environment, a secure environment. For example, the game of presenting oneself—who we are, where we come from, presentation of our community, and presentation of the neighbor on the left or right—can be very effective in these cases.

The question: Conflict zones are extremely fragile and risky areas. Working with people from or living in these areas requires a lot of humility, patience, tolerance, love, and humanism. The question that can be asked seeks to understand or to put oneself in the place of others. These must not be questions to judge or to take someone's position. These questions must fundamentally help to soothe and soften the heart. These questions must be about caring for other humans and must not be political. (This text in an excerpt of Aguibous contribution to this toolkit, 2022)

"The city of Mosul is known for its diversity. In Iraq there are four languages. Two official languages, Arabic and Kurdish, Assyrian that is spoken by a smaller community, and Turkmen who also have their own language. In Mosul, all the four languages are present and also different ethnic and religious groups. We thought about a festival there, because the city has been destroyed in 2017 and many people left, who are now slowly coming back and started rebuilding, to revive everything. Half of the city is still destroyed. But there is a local government, there are people, there is life there. It is not like when I say half of the city is destroyed, the other half there are schools, there are governments, there are universities, there is life. But of course, because half of the city is destroyed, it is a challenge to find venues. There is no theatre or other suitable venues, its not easy. Thats why we work with local partners, and also with UNESCO. Because UNESCO they are working there especially on old houses. It is not easy of course, it takes a lot of energy and time to bring all of this altogether, of course content wise it is sometimes not easy to explain everything to them, it is very important to convince them to be with us us, to give us the space.

It will be a European Iraqi festival. We have already 10 European musicians who will come for the festival to Mosul. It will be 5 days to meet musicians from Iraq and play together, jam together, also in the streets, also with the people in the streets, and the last 3 days will be concerts, everyday 2,3 concerts from different groups. We will have talks, young music students in Mosul will get trainings, and we will also have a competition with prizes for the young musicians.

We are not doing cultural export, what we ask our partners for is a real exchange. And another aim is, the invited European musicians will not play their music, they will play the music of Mosul. The whole focus is on the city.

We don’t use the word peacebuilding, but of course our planning aims to improve the situation of our audiences and partners. In Iraq, tension and conflict is still there, because the politicians are playing this game of keeping the situation like this: “We are the best people of the world”, and all leaders say the same, and like this everybody is trying to control their own community -because of elections, for their own benefits. But actually, is not like this here: If there are no elections, in normal daily life, people of the different communities talk to each other, they are friends, they are married to each other. 

We do believe that art and culture in general can play a big role in peacebuilding, but we are not doing the festival just for peacebuilding. For us it is more important to really connect people, not like “let’s do cross-culture, lets love each other”! No, I don’t care. If you don’t like each other, don’t like each other. 

When we are connecting musicians, we are not forcing them, “please come and play together”, no, we as Goethe Institute prepare the conditions, we connect you, we invite you, we give you a space to try something. If it works, then continue, if not, then not. For us the real connection is important. In all our programmes. As Goethe Institute, we just explain to people that it could also look like this. If you are not convinced, then this is not our problem. But we see that it works. Musicians always find connections. They build contact, stay in contact, we have many many examples - and not only between musicians but also other artists, painters, movie directors, etc. And suddenly they say: "Ok, why should I don’t like this person?" And out of one project grow new ideas.

Cultural mobility is very important for us, this is why we organise activities in different cities, locations, and places.  Since two years, we are also organising a festival in Halapca. There, it is also about bringing musicians together, not just musicians from Halapca, but also musicians from Germany, Spain, other cities in Iraq, as well as from Kurdistan region. To do something together. 

The singularity of a festival taking place for a short amount of time requires it to be accompanied by other activities/offers. Before organising or planning a festival in this kind of context, we think of what comes after, because if you come even if it is just for a night, in a city like Mosul, people come and they will have expectations. They will ask us, what about tomorrow, what about after. We should be ready for this. If we are able to continue our activities after, then it is ok – we can organise a festival there. But if not, then better not to do it at all. It is a bit like with a child and the hope. I will bring you something, or you bring a child somewhere nice then it will have the hope that it will have it again or forever and it is very bad if you say look and this is just for one time. We are organisaing the festival for the city and the artists of the city and to attract more musicians and stakeholders. In a festival format you attract more people to engage, more than to involve them in regular projects that we have." (Excerpt from an interview conducted by The Festival Academy, 2023)

"What I can share is mostly from our experience as a collective, working from the ground in this country, which has so many borders—internal, mental, and social. We are constantly navigating these fragmentations and divisions, trying to create cultural and artistic processes that are meaningful in such a complex landscape.

From the beginning, we asked ourselves how to do something that activates change amidst this chaos. We decided to immerse ourselves in the different realities of the country, meeting people and understanding the diverse contexts across various regions. If you haven’t had the chance to explore beyond Beirut, you’ll find that each region has its unique reality—where in one area, a woman singing might be frowned upon, while in another, a queer dancer can perform openly. The cultural and social backgrounds are so varied that it becomes a challenge to build a discourse that resonates with everyone.

We don't have all the same experiences or the same relation to the country, its history, communities, or the system of values that frame our minds. This creates different layers on top of the identities we carry, and adds another layer with political identities, which further blurs society's lines. Should we follow this or that? But we are part of this community, this sector, etc. ... 

For us, it's crucial to escape the trap of doing something only for a circle of people who share the same values. For instance, during the revolution, all cultural organizations in Lebanon went on strike, and we initially followed suit. But then, we realized it made no sense to stop working at that moment. We gathered our community to ask what they thought we should do. We wanted to support the revolution, to be on the street, and to organize performances and concerts during the revolution. The community agreed, and it made sense because our job is not to preach to the already convinced, but to spread poetry, dance, abstraction, and beauty to those who need to be shaken and artistically inspired, with the hope of eventually connecting people to common values.

And the key is that we have to figure this out on our own. There are no cultural policies, no head institutions providing tools, advice, or direction. We have to build it with people, and we need to be mindful of what we present, who we invite, and how we do it in a way that could be acceptable to everyone. In Lebanon, we have a national sport of labeling people—Christian, Druze, refugee, marginalized, domestic worker. Through our festival, we try to erase these labels and create encounters using art as the excuse. 

When a Palestinian singer, for example, moves everyone with her performance, she's not announced as a Palestinian refugee singer; she's simply a beautiful woman with a beautiful voice. We've seen the most radical Christians being moved and captivated by her performance, even requesting her return. This gives us hope that we can break down some of the boundaries in our society." (Excerpt from a panel discussion during the Atelier For Young Festival Managers in Nicosia 2022)

"After the explosion and the inflation, years of work were blown away in three minutes. None of us on the team wanted to do anything anymore. We couldn't find a reason. Why should I do a festival nowadays in Beirut? Why, when there are a lot of people who can't even afford electricity? I don't know if you understand what it is to not afford electricity. It also means not being able to afford a refrigerator. We don't always see it from that perspective, but many houses in my neighborhood, for example, can't afford a refrigerator, so they can't store food, meaning they also can't afford food. This is how bad the situation is. 

So what does it mean to make a festival? How can I pull myself out with integrity? How can we pull ourselves out of that black hole, which means depression and post-traumatic stress that everybody suffered from in Beirut? Deciding to do a festival that was once an international theater festival meant inviting big names from European and American theater and trying to place them next to trendy names from Lebanon. Doing a festival where funders and the audience would be happy because they would have the impression of watching important artists - we couldn't do that anymore. Something about the integrity wasn't there. We couldn't do something that would make us feel like normality was back because nothing normal was back. When I speak about a sense of normality during this years edition, it means trying to act normal but acknowledging that nothing is fine. But at least, we are here together.

This year, in order to motivate ourselves, we asked what do we want? What do I want? What do I do after an explosion? 

Usually, I gather my body parts. After an explosion, I gather the rubble of my house and try to see what's left.  For us, this year's festival, which is a purely local edition, includes artists who were present in the past decades and the younger generation. We wanted to see what kind of bodies the cultural scene has today in Beirut. If you look at our poster, we insisted on putting the names on the poster like a memorial, like the names of the missing, or like the attendees who are still here. It's a body, the body of the theater scene, the music scene, etc. 

In a period like the one we are living in, there is nothing else to think about anymore; only our bodies are present. To have integrity in our way of thinking, a festival, a performance, a gathering has to start with that sense of meaning, putting bodies in the same room, putting plays in the same festival, and seeing what happens. We're waiting until the end of next week to see what happens with the festival and what it means, and if there was integrity in it."

(This text is an excerpt from a panel discussion during the Atelier for Arts and Production Managers Elefsina-Beirut 2022) 

"For us in the Freedom Theater, the whole idea is about conflict, and it starts from conflict—conflict on different levels: a personal conflict, identity conflict, political conflict. And all that started from Juliano and his mother, Arna. She was an Israeli Jew; she was part of the Israeli army, she served in the Israeli army. But when she found the truth and discovered what was going on, she decided to stop serving in the army and became an activist for Palestinian rights. She got a Nobel Prize, an alternative Nobel Prize, and she opened children's houses in the camp where, during the first intifada, they closed their schools, and the children were sitting in the streets writing and reading.

In that way, I'm also trying to focus on the community and the power of the community around you. If you can win the community, then all your work will be much easier, much stronger, and more effective in different situations. In the second Intifada, most of these kids became armed resistance leaders, and most of them died. In the second Intifada, Juliano, the son of Arna, came back and made a documentary—I hope everyone can see it on YouTube—called "Arna's Children." It explains a lot about the Freedom Theater and the journey of the Freedom Theater. 

When the Israelis invaded the whole West Bank, they destroyed the Stone Theater. At that time, it was called the Stone Theater because the Palestinians were fighting with stones in the second Intifada. In 2006, the people gathered together, three founders, one of them became the Al Aqsa Brigade leader in the whole West Bank and was wanted number one by the Israeli army, Zakariya Zubaidi. He believed in the role of art and culture to resist and explain our story. In the West, when people hear about a freedom fighter, they think of a man with a big beard, a big belly, four wives, and ten children. But when they meet Zakariya, they find out he's a young man who believes in culture besides the gun and resistance.

At that time, we opened the theater and used it for resistance. I, myself, was an armed resistor and have been in prison for four years. But then I lost all my friends and houses, and started to believe that there should be another way to fight. The idea is not to die; the idea is to resist and stay alive as long as you can to tell your story." (Speech during the online Atelier Düsseldorf 2021)

"There are festivals like DMZ Music Festival that were originally funded by the government and initiated by a group of people. However, after a change in leadership, the government withdrew its funding. The community still wanted the festival to continue, so they took it upon themselves to raise funds through donations. Remarkably, they managed to collect enough money to keep the festival alive. This year, it will take place in September, marking the first time a festival like this has been sustained by the people after losing government support. Typically, when government funding stops, a festival ends, but in this case, it survived because the community truly wanted it. 

From my own experience, I wanted to create something similar. I organized a one-week personal diversity forum, which was a project close to my heart. I served as the director, and the event was supported by the government. We invited artists from various countries, including Japan, China, and South Asia, to engage in discussions about cultural diversity. The event featured workshops, concerts, and a large forum, emphasizing artists whose work is deeply connected to their communities. My goal was to create a space that genuinely respects cultural diversity, not just in name. For example, we invited foreign workers who had been living there for 15 years but had never felt respected by the government. 

This festival was the first time they felt truly respected, and that was the most significant aspect of the event for me. I believe it’s crucial to consider whether the people you serve genuinely want the festival. If they do, that’s what gives the festival its legitimacy” (Excerpt from Yunshins contribution at MYSTERY 45_Atelier Elefsina 2023)

“I am the director of LINOLEUM. Our festival mostly deals with animation and animation industry. We try our best to not only hold the festival but also offer lectures, workshops, screenings, mentorships to develop the local animation industry. We also present Ukrainian animation abroad at different festivals and fora. We try to help Ukrainian delegates to reach specific fora to pitch their projects and so on.

Linoleum initially was founded in Russia in 2005 or 2006. It was founded by a businessman who was a contemporary art collector and who was a big fan of animation arts. He founded the festival mostly to promote contemporary arts and animation arts as an emerging industry. The festival started as an exhibition rather than a classical film festival. When he moved to Ukraine for work, he moved the festival with him. I cannot really say why, but maybe he saw that there was a need for that kind of event in Ukraine. At that time, I was working for a film company in Kyiv as a project manager for cultural events, not directly linked to art festivals. The founder of the festival contacted our film studio and in 2014 we did the first edition of the festival here in Kyiv together and I became more of a coordinator for it. What is interesting is, that 2014 is exactly the year, when the war started. So, Linoleum started in war and celebrated its 10th edition with the full-scale invasion.

As Linoleum was launched in 2014, we tried to not have any connection with Russian animators or Russian animation industry, obviously. I became director of the festival in 2016 because the Russian businessman and founder didn’t have time to look after it anymore. So, in 2016, the festival became 100% Ukrainian. We took the rights for the festival to our studio and he no longer took part in the organisation of it. First of all, it was a one-time project. We held the festival in 2016 and then we forgot about it. I did other festivals at that time, but Linoleum was one of my favourites, I guess. I realized that I do want to do more. Not just a festival, I wanted to develop it, to improve it.

And since 2018 we started to travel around Ukraine with screenings promoting animation not only the art for kids, but an art form that can talk about very serious topics in very unexpected ways. And an art form that can also work with trauma, not showing what exactly happens here and now like for example documentary does. But being more flexible. We also started doing educational projects under a grant of Linoleum, we started to involve governmental money to make it bigger. We started to take part in their festivals to promote Ukrainian animation arts.

Since 2016, we never ever took Russian films into a competition. I never had any connections with Russians. Even though the Russian and Ukrainian community were kind of integrated into each other, I never had friends from there. When the invasion started, it was easier for me to accept what was happening because I didn’t have that connection. Or at least I was not surprised that this happened. Other people who had friends over there that then suddenly said: “Oh, everything is alright, everything is just how it is supposed to be, don’t worry” – I think their world has changed for them since then.

I knew that the Russian animation industry is more powerful than the Ukrainian. Russia always tended to put a lot of money into the promotion of their culture. That’s why it is so famous also abroad. Maybe because of this underestimation, Ukrainians are more creative and much better at producing something. Because we underestimated ourselves for such a long time, that we always wanted to make everything better and better. Right now, travelling around Europe a lot, I often find myself thinking “Wow, but we have a better service for this or that”. It is crazy, because we’ve been thinking for so long that we are worse than the Europeans, worse than the Russians anyways, of course. Tolstoi, Dostojewski, the greatest writers ever – while our own heritage has been forgotten or disqualified.

Linoleum is now the only animation festival in Ukraine that still exists. We held the festival in 2022, 2023 and this year as well. And the reason why we still hold them, I guess, is pure luck. It is not that we had a specific strategy. For Western Europeans it might sound strange that we are still working on breaking these connections with Russia, but it is the only way how we can show what Ukraine is worth on itself, as a stand-alone country. Also, because our context is unknown to other countries. What I like least is when other countries who also experienced war try to compare the experiences. “We also went through this” – yes, of course, you can go through war, but the context of this war and the reasons of this war are completely different and depend on so many factors. And it is ok to not know. This is what The Festival Academy Atelier showed. We came all from different regions with different histories and backgrounds. The people who come from they are the best sources, we should listen to them.

Since the collapse of UDSSR, all policies, laws, strategies, because all our presidents before were under Russian influence. Just in the beginning of the 90s, there was a boom of Ukrainian culture, but then Russian language, Russian culture started to dominate. As far as when you travelled outside of Ukraine and you said you were from Ukraine, people didn’t know where it was, or that we have only one official language which is Ukrainian, not Russian. But partially, we also contributed to this; by adoring Russian culture, we made other people think that we are not an alone-standing culture. We always say that art is beyond politics. I don’t understand where this comes from. Art is very much influenced by politics, financed by politics. Every government wants to show through the arts how cool they are, of course.

The Maidan revolution 2014 influenced the awareness of Ukrainian culture. It launched a huge amount of Ukrainian brands, creative industries. But still, as Ukraine is big, in 2014, for example in Kyiv you felt that the war is taking place far away. And yes, I have to confess, that in 2014, we were still showing Russian authors within non-competitive sections of the festivals. Not many, but some were part of the program. Since 2022, we do not screen Russian films either created with Russian support or by Russians living in other countries. Because every Russian name or surname is very triggering for our audience. As long as I am director of the festival, there won’t be any Russian content. We have to, first of all, think about us and our own content.

Our animation industry is basically very close of being destroyed. There is almost no financing, people are being mobilized, or are volunteering, or have to work on something else. The big difference between our situation and the Russian is that our cities are being bombed and destroyed, museums and galleries are being destroyed, people die, artists as well, very talented people. And they at least still have safe life conditions to create, your family is still there and so on. This is a very big difference, that not everyone thinks of, when they say that they are also good people. I believe they are good people; I am not saying they are bad people. I know everyone operates from their situation. For now, it is just very triggering for us, we are in the war, and we have no idea when it will be over.

In a scenario where the war is over, I would go for a talk with them. Mainly to understand what they are going to do and what are their plans. I would hear them out, how do they see, what do they want. Our history taught us you have to be careful. Ukraine as far as I am concerned, has never attacked or colonized another country. We don’t need your territory; we are fine with what we have. Just please let us be. I guess I would like to see them rethink their culture and rethink what happened. Russia always romanticised war and the victory. I was crazy what was happening here every 9th May. On their way from Berlin back to the Sovjet Union, our grandparents did very bad things too, but we never talked about this.

Our main communication platform is telegram, where you will also find chat groups with the death of Russian soldiers, where they show videos of how Russian get killed. And even some of my friends, they would feel in a way satisfied watching that. I had to delete all of these groups because I cannot watch it. Of course, sometimes you have emotional outbreaks when you think, I wish they were all dead. But still, there are some things that I don’t want us to turn into in the future. Right now, we are living on this adrenaline, we are exhausted, but we still try to do something. When the war ends, this will be worse. Because the level of trauma in kids, adults, women, men is so high, that I am not even sure if there will be something to work with. 44% of Ukrainian children have PTSD syndrome.

This is why we started doing workshops for kids and teens on art therapy and animation in different cities in Ukraine. First, we started looking for grants, then organising first workshops in different places also those close to the frontline – to be honest I was really surprised that the level calmness there is much higher than in regions that suffered less from the invasion. Also, I have the feeling that the need for culture is higher in those frontline cities. For kids art is an ability to speak. Sometimes a psychologist doesn’t take a word out of them but when they start to draw or animate something, it helps them to speak, to reflect. Besides that, the process of creation is a huge distraction from everything that goes on.

We also offer activities where we present information about funding or how to distribute your films. Or organising networking events to bring people together, to think about what can be done together.

Another thing is the problem with the loss of professionals due to mobilization. Every man over the age of 25 can be mobilized at any time. We are working on special contracts with our collaborators to have the insurance to have them accomplished the projects before being mobilized.

People who live in war, don’t want to watch movies about the war. The level of trauma is high in society, even if not everybody has experienced explosions or seen drones fly. You can be traumatized without being a direct war witness. Every person is different, and you never know who is coming to your festival. And we want to keep our audiences more or less sane. We had a rather dark edition in 2022 and then realized the issue. Of course, there are still animations with hard topics, but we try to pick films that show those in a kind of light way or have a happy ending.

Also, we are trying to bring people from abroad to Ukraine who can also inspire or share what is new in the sector. In 2022, we had nobody coming obviously, in 2023 some of the invitees were ok with coming. This year again, more people will travel and come to Ukraine. This is a long process: you have to have long conversations to persuade people that you won’t be hit by a missile right after crossing the Ukrainian border because people are not aware of the size of Ukraine. And of course, there is no safe space, in principle a missile can reach everywhere." (Excerpt of an interview conducted by The Festival Academy, 2024)