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Photo: Leah Pattem.
Nani, a resident of Tribulete 7, protests against the investment fund that purchased her home in Madrid in 2024. 

What do you do when the people with the power are against you?

Join with other victims, and don’t give up.

Leah Pattem, who made a movie about a tenant rebellion in Spain, offers this opinion at the Guardian.

“Spain’s housing crisis finally came for the tenants of Madrid’s Calle Tribulete 7 when their block was sold to an investment fund. Feeling pressured to leave by rent increases and aggressive construction works that flooded some apartments, they did everything they were supposed to do: organize meetings, contact the tenants’ union and find a lawyer. They also protested, spoke to journalists and created an Instagram account to spread the word. But they also did something I’d never seen before.

“They opened up their homes to the public and invited musicians to play inside, in the very flats and shops that were suddenly at risk. A month later they flipped this concept on its head and took their furniture out on to the street. There the tenants cooked, knitted, played chess in their dressing gowns, worked from home and bobbed in their armchairs to a local band playing a brass version of Freed from Desire. It was a spectacular theatrical performance of everyday existence, but also a fight for their lives.

“In the years after the 2008 global financial crisis, and the Spanish housing disaster that followed, the country’s campaigners have slowly changed tack. Back then, banks and their reckless mortgage loans were the main problem, and defining the frontline was the Plataforma de Afectados por la Hipoteca (PAH), the organization that launched Ada Colau to fame and the Barcelona mayoralty, and helped stop countless evictions. Though the PAH is still relevant today, the Spanish housing crisis of the 2020s involves the buying up of entire residential buildings – some of which have a hundred tenants inside – by domestic and foreign investment funds such as Blackstone.

“The media framing of Spain’s housing crisis has evolved, too. For decades, photographers such as Olmo Calvo and Alberto Astudillo have documented the most brutal cases: armed police battering down doors, personal belongings piled on to pavements, grieving parents doing their best to shield their traumatized children. But a new style of coverage is emerging – one that celebrates the community under threat, in the hope that the act of celebration can inspire citizens to mobilize to protect the right to a decent home.

“This is exactly what myself and fellow documentary film-maker Elisa González have been involved in for two years in our own neighborhood of Lavapiés in central Madrid. From that first day of living-room concerts, we realized we weren’t simply documenting Spain’s housing crisis, but witnessing the emergence of a new social movement. …

“Nani, who lives on the second floor of Tribulete 7, runs El Elementoa DJ collective for people with disabilities. One of her star performers, DJ Jessy, played at the residents’ first musical protest, inside the now-closed shoe shop in the building. DJ Jessy’s popularity also brought her to the biggest stage of the Madrid neighborhood fiestas, organized by Madrid city council. But Nani is fearful for the group’s future if they are forced out of the neighborhood. The council is happy to champion local culture, but takes little interest in addressing the housing crisis that will ultimately destroy that very cultural fabric. …

“For the residents of Tribulete 7, the battle rages on. After years of campaigning against their new landlord, the residents and their prolific lawyer, Alejandra Jacinto Uranga, filed what could become Spain’s first successful lawsuit against an investment fund for alleged real estate harassment – the building’s owners reject this and are fighting the case. Beyond the groundbreaking legal fight, the protests and the viral concerts, the tenants of Tribulete 7 are tapping into something even more important: community care.”

More at the Guardian, here.

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Photo: David B Torch.
Recently the Norwegian National Ballet tackled the delicate subject of a 19th century rebellion by the indigenous Sami people. The non-Sami dancers wondered if they had the right to tell the story.

Indigenous reindeer herders called the Sami have a presence in the north of Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia — and the sort of history indigenous people have experienced around the world. Was the Norwegian National Ballet reckless in trying to bring a 19th century Sami rebellion to life using non-Sami dancers?

Lisa Abend wrote at the New York Times in November, “Far in the north of Norway, a test of sorts was underway. Two weeks earlier, the ballet ‘Lahppon/Lost‘ had premiered at the Opera House in Oslo. Created by a Sami artist about a Sami uprising, and danced by the Norwegian National Ballet, the work had opened to largely positive reviews. But last Friday, ‘Lahppon/Lost started a two-night run in Kautokeino, a cultural capital for the Indigenous Sami people and the very town where the rebellion it depicts took place.

“ ‘The audience was five times bigger in Oslo, but I was more nervous here,’ said the creator and co-choreographer of ‘Lahppon/Lost,’ Elle Sofe Sara, whose ancestors participated in the uprising. ‘I knew that so many descendants of the rebellion would be there, and … I was asking myself: “Have we done it in a good way?” ‘ …

“When the work premiered at the Opera House on Oct. 31, it was the first time a piece by a Sami choreographer had been presented on the main stage. It was also part of a recent wave of commissions from leading arts institutions that have recognized Norway’s long history of forced assimilation of and discrimination against the Indigenous group, which is widely considered Europe’s oldest. …

“For Ingrid Lorentzen, the Norwegian National Ballet’s artistic director, who commissioned the work, and for the company’s dancers, none of whom are Sami, the performance raised questions about whether they had the right to tell the story. …

“Said Lorentzen, ‘Are we again stepping over the voices that we are trying to create space for?’ …

“For the Sami, the Kautokeino rebellion remains a sensitive subject. During the 1852 uprising, Sami followers of a strict Christian sect attacked Norwegian authorities, including the local sheriff and priest. … In the aftermath, church and state stepped up their efforts to ‘Norwegianize’ the Indigenous group, which continued into the 1960s.

“For well over a century, the rebellion was shrouded in shame among the Sami. But a political and cultural awakening in the 1970s prompted a gradual re-evaluation, and today the causes and meaning of the Kautokeino uprising are contested, with some viewing it as an example of religious fanaticism and others considering it an early Indigenous rejection of the authorities’ ongoing suppression of Sami rights and culture.

“Among the predominantly Indigenous audience that filled the seats of Kautokeino’s Sami National Theater, several attendees confessed to pre-curtain anxiety . … ‘I was so nervous,’ said Ayla Nutti, 20. ‘I was worried they wouldn’t get it right.’

“It was precisely the uprising’s complexity that drew Sara to the story. From her research, she knew that the episode still carried a heavy emotional burden. ‘We did interviews with descendants, and some of them didn’t want to talk about it, or they would talk and then tell us to delete the conversation,’ she said. …

“The dancing in ‘Lahppon/Lost’ is intensely physical, and much of it was devised by Sara’s collaborator, the Icelandic choreographer Hlin Hjalmarsdottir. The dancers whip the ground with fury and twist their bodies with an energy that oscillates between tortured and ecstatic. Combined with video close-ups of the dancers’ faces, and striking costumes from the Danish designer Henrik Vibskov, the muscular movement gives ‘Lahppon/Lost’ a contemporary feel.

“Yet the work remains thoroughly Sami. Much of that character can be attributed to Lavre Johan Eira, who performs a Sami form of throat singing called joiking that is believed to convey the living essence of its subject. ‘Lahppon/Lost’ opens with Eira’s haunting version of a joik. …

“By all accounts — and two standing ovations — they succeeded. ‘Sometimes when you see non-Sami dancers, there is a distance between them and the Sami stories,’ said Kristin Solberg, the director of a Sami theater in Mo i Rana, Norway. ‘But these dancers embodied them and gave movement to the land. I felt like I was watching my story.’

“[Reindeer herder] Sokki found himself in tears. ‘It didn’t matter that the dancers weren’t Sami,’ he said. ‘They made the rebellion come closer. It was magic.’

“In the intimate space of the Kautokeino theater, the performers felt that magic, too. And it didn’t end with the curtain. As they stepped outside after the final show, the Northern Lights were casting swirling bands of luminescence against the night sky. ‘It’s the perfect ending,’ said [dancer] de Block. ‘We released the spirits tonight.’ ”

More at the Times, here. Lots of great little videos.

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Photo: Dominique Soguel.
Rua, a Damascus university student, poses for a photo wrapped in the Syrian flag while celebrating the anniversary of the revolution that led to the toppling of Bashar al-Assad, in Damascus, Syria, March 15, 2025.

Although we can’t know where Syria is headed in the long run — or how many powerful countries will interfere with what everyday people want — I think we’re allowed a moment of hope at this this time. Certainly, that is what many astonished Syrians felt when the regime of the tyrant Bashar al-Assad was overthrown in a “sudden” uprising that was many years in the making.

Dominique Sequol of the Christian Science Monitor wrote an article in March about what Syrians were feeling. While it focuses on a new freedom to worship, worship is only one example of the change there.

“Alaa al-Saadi, like many Syrian men of his generation,” she says, “once fought to overthrow longtime dictator Bashar al-Assad. Now Mr. Saadi is savoring his first ‘free’ Ramadan in his hometown of Qaboun, a low-income neighborhood and former rebel stronghold on the outskirts of Damascus.

“At sunset, when Muslims rush home to break the fast with the iftar meal, the business owner stands on a street corner pouring out licorice juice from a giant metal pot. …

“Damascus is observing its first Ramadan since the fall of Mr. Assad, who cast himself as a protector of Syria’s many minorities while ruling them all with an iron fist. The Muslim holy month – one of heightened spirituality, and marked by the pursuit of good deeds to help those in need – is observed in Syria and across the Middle East.

“Mr. Saadi, who spent several years in Libya before returning to Syria in 2019, recalls hiding during previous Ramadans to avoid being conscripted into the Syrian army. Now, he is grateful to be in the position to help his community. …

“Families displaced by the conflict are trickling back to Qaboun, although much of it remains reduced to rubble after years of siege and bombardment.

“ ‘This Ramadan, our loved ones have returned,’ says Mr. Saadi, fielding greetings outside his car-painting workshop. ‘We are reunited. Friends, loved ones, and young men are all back. Things will gradually improve.’

“Indeed, Damascus seems to be inching toward greater functionality, with uniformed traffic police on the streets and a steadier electricity supply. The mood in the capital is one of cautious optimism under President Ahmed al-Sharaa, who broke ties with Al Qaeda and led the military effort that toppled Mr. Assad in December.  

“This has been a month of prayer but also mixed-gender celebrations that continue late into the night under the glitter of Ramadan light installations. Women in all kinds of Islamic dress – from the niqab to the veil – converged on central Ommayad Square for the March 15 marking of the anniversary of the 2011 Arab Spring-inspired revolution. So did women with no veil. …

“There has been no shortage of individual and collective volunteer efforts inspired by the month of fasting.

“In Douma, another war-ravaged suburb of Damascus, Osama Massaya leads the volunteer group Mulham. Boasting 40 participants, age 14 and up, it focuses on cleaning mosques and distributing meals to worshipers. Such ideas are not new – but the possibility of executing them this freely is.

“In 2024, Mr. Massaya, a history student at Damascus University, tried to obtain a license for a volunteer team to clean up mosques. The request never received the green light from the Ministry of the Endowment. ‘At the time, there was no interest in mosques,’ he explains.

“ ‘The mosques were very neglected,’ adds Mr. Massaya, whose team has helped to clean up a handful in Douma already. …

“The Mulham volunteers aim to distribute 4,000 meals throughout Ramadan. Such efforts are financed by individual donations made by local residents, including some who resettled in Europe and the Middle East during the war and remain abroad. Most donations – including a recent batch of 300 kilograms (660 pounds) of dates – are made anonymously. …

“The activities of mosques were closely monitored in the past. In 2011, they were a springboard for post-Friday prayer protests against the Syrian regime, and long were treated as potential hubs of dissent.

“Rua, a university student in Damascus who gave only one name and whose father died in the notorious Sadnaya prison, reports a similar newfound sense of freedom.

“ ‘It’s the difference between day and night,’ she says of this Ramadan, recalling past years when ‘people prayed quietly and left mosques quickly,’ to avoid regime informants.” More at the Monitor, here.

We don’t choose what country we are born into, and perhaps watching the news since 2011, many of us were glad we weren’t born in a country like Syria. But I think that to witness such a moment of hope after despair is something precious.

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