Efectos sobre la motivación en relación con la enseñanza del profesor/a de la clase de Ciencias Naturales

Three weeks after El Gusto’s performance, the Barbican hosted a concert by popular Algerian singers Rachid Taha and Souad Massi, two of the country’s most famous musicians. Both were born in Algeria (Taha in the town of Sig in western Algeria, near to Oran, and Massi in Algiers, to Berber parents), but have subsequently relocated to France, where they have established successful commercial careers. Taha has been described as ‘an icon of multiracial France’

(Silverstein, 2004: 167), whilst Chris Elias and Andy Morgan, a world music journalist who has conducted a number of interviews with Massi, offer the following description;

Souad Massi (who has Kabyle roots but doesn’t speak Taqbaylith) abandoned a musical career in Algeria and fled to exile in France where her Darija (Algerian-Arabic) and French original songs caught the world’s ear and opened many hearts. Her vulnerable yet determined voice and steady acoustic guitar (plus a cast of excellent sidemen) produced her hit debut Raoui (Storyteller) in 2001. (2006: 24)

Both musicians have been supported and promoted by the Euro-American world music industries, and whilst Taha has attracted some mainstream success in France, they remain predominantly associated by British audiences with the world music scene.

Massi and Taha are renowned and celebrated in Algeria for their international successes, yet there was a notable lack of interest in the concert amongst the local diaspora in London. Whereas online social media forums had been filled with discussions of Hamidou and El Gusto’s impending performances, this particular event produced little dialogue amongst Algerians.

However, the concert was heavily promoted to world music audiences, with a clearly commercial desire to sell tickets, and generated significant media interest for an Algerian music event in London. The publicity campaign for the event was highly evocative, and focussed upon placing both musicians within a political context, suggesting that, alongside the commercial, there were additional agendas in operation. This politicisation of the concert is notable as it

not only contradicts the apparently apolitical motives of the festival of which the event was part, but also reinforces the recurring notion of music in the Arab world as enduringly a form of protest. This politicised agenda was, in itself, arguably part of a commercial imperative, and built upon the expectations of non-Algerian world music audiences in London. Although El Gusto’s concert had drawn upon politics through notions of Judeo-Islamic religious understanding in the Arab world, the relationship between music and politics was far more prominent in the promotional narrative of this particular event. This was apparent in the concert’s programme notes, written by world music journalist Jon Lusk, which observed that,

Tonight’s concert presents two very different faces of modern Algerian pop music. Even so, Rachid Taha and Souad Massi do have certain things in common. Both have lived life on the edge and sung honest, personal songs that have sometimes got them into trouble. So of course, neither of them is a stranger to politics. (Lusk, 2013)

Unlike the previous two performances, this concert was not a single standalone event, but the opening of Shubbak 2013, an artistic and cultural festival that promoted itself as ‘a window on contemporary Arab culture’. The festival’s website promised a ‘programme [that] spans free outdoor family days and large-scale concerts, thought-provoking talks and the latest films, with special late-night gallery openings and a wonderful closing party’, and suggested that,

Shubbak 2013 is a festival of discovery. We are proud to present new talent and new works from some of the most exciting young artists originating from the Arab world – wherever they may be residing – in your neighbourhood in London, in Brussels, or in cities like Beirut, Jerusalem, Cairo, Dubai or Marrakech.

Shubbak is also a festival to discover or re-discover artists who have been pioneers in their fields for many years but have yet to receive the international platform which they so rightly deserve.¹³⁸

The festival was therefore intended to simultaneously publicise Arabic culture, challenge negative stereotypes, and build connections with artists from within       

138 See http://shubbak.co.uk/

London’s diasporic networks. This cultural agenda seemed quite distinct from the commercial and political intentions previously identified. A review of the concert in The Guardian endorsed this position, claiming that ‘this concert kicks off Shubbak, a new London-wide festival challenging stereotypes of extremism in Arabic culture, and Taha shared the bill with another outspoken French-Algerian star, Souad Massi’ (Lewis, 2013). The promotional messages surrounding the festival were similarly positive, with the Mayor of London’s office proclaiming that ‘this biennial event will return to London with a stunning programme’.¹³⁹ The daily Metro newspaper reported that,

There’s a strong double-bill of Algerian talent at the Barbican tomorrow:

wiry and grizzled punk rocker Rachid Taha, whose latest album, Zoom, was released in March (his Arabic-language cover of The Clash’s ‘Rock The Casbah’ is always a trusty, fiery favourite), and singer/songwriter Souad Massi, whose brooding, soulful melodies are backed with acoustic guitar and oud. (Haider, 2013)

Other media sources focussed upon the festival’s other objectives, with the Evening Standard newspaper claiming that ‘its organisers hope to show an alternative side to the troubled [Arab] region. [It] kicks off this weekend with free family events in the Lyric Square in Hammersmith and Algerian music at the Barbican’ (Evening Standard, 21/6/2013). In another Guardian article, festival organiser Omar al-Qattan claimed that Shubbak aimed to educate the British public about Arabic culture, and again placed this within the context of contemporary North African and Middle Eastern politics by suggesting that,

These are troubled times to be putting on a festival celebrating a culture that is, on several levels and in different regions of its rich geography, tearing itself apart. Three "cradles" of our many regional civilisations – Iraq, Syria and Egypt – are riven by conflict, the former two torn apart by civil war. (al-Qattan, 2013)

Al-Qattan goes on to outline three groups that the festival is claiming to represent: those living in North Africa and the Middle East; artists from the Arab       

139 See http://www.london.gov.uk/priorities/arts-culture/festivals-events/shubbak  

world, described as ‘global wanderers [who] carry their pain with them wherever they go, creating work against the odds’; and members of diasporic populations from Arab countries living in London, for whom, it is suggested, ‘the experience of Arab immigrants, whether they chose to live here or were forced by tragedy at home, is a universal one that can be shared with many other groups in this country’ (al-Qattan, 2013).

The political agenda at the heart of this promotional narrative were certainly not coincidental, but rather a result of the context within which the festival, and the concert, took place. British media reports on North Africa and the Middle East at this time were characterised by stories of political and social unrest, and contemporary events in these regions included the ‘Arab Spring’, the on-going conflict in Israel and Palestine, and both domestic and international concerns about the situations in Iraq, Iran and other countries in the area. This media coverage fuelled a predominantly negative public impression of North Africa and the Middle East, and it is understandable therefore that Shubbak would attempt to portray Islamic and Arabic culture in a more positive light. There was also a more immediate motivation for the festival adopting this narrative. Exactly one month before the concert was due to take place, a British soldier was killed on the streets of Woolwich, an area of south London, by two men who identified themselves as Muslim, and who claimed that their actions were carried out in retribution for the deaths of Muslims at the hands of the British military. ¹⁴⁰ Unsurprisingly, the killing produced extensive media reports and discussions about Islam in Britain, with politicians warning of the potential for anti-Islamic repercussions. Over the subsequent days and weeks, a number of British mosques were attacked, particularly in London, and there were widespread concerns voiced about hostility towards British Muslims.¹⁴¹ Whilst Shubbak 2013 had been planned and programmed long       

140 Lee Rigby was a Drummer (Private) in the British Army and was stationed at the Royal Artillery Barracks in Woolwich. His killing, in the streets of Woolwich in broad daylight, proved particularly shocking. Two men, Michael Adebolajo and Michael Adebowale, were arrested at the scene and charged with Rigby’s murder.

141 An article in The Guardian a week after the attack suggested that there had already been almost two hundred Islamophobic attacks in Woolwich following the killing (Taylor and Siddique, 2013). A report in The Independent newspaper at the end of 2013

before this attack, this particular event therefore occurred at a moment of particular social tension, with Islamic culture subjected to heightened public scrutiny.

However, this narrative is not without problems. Of particular concern is the notion that such a festival could represent an all-encompassing portrayal of

‘contemporary Arab culture’, and this was highlighted by the inclusion of Souad Massi in this concert. Massi is proud of her Algerian Kabyle heritage and is recognised by many as a Berber, as well as Algerian, musician. Nevertheless, this concert, which launched Shubbak, made no reference to her Berberness, and whilst the festival’s promotional narrative played upon political themes, no mention was made of the situation of Berbers in Algeria or of the history of tensions and violence that have been witnessed in Kabylia in recent decades.

The notion of a Berber musician being representative of ‘Arab culture’ is, for many Algerians, highly objectionable, and risks ignoring the realities and complexities of contemporary Algerian society.

Such concerns were debated in the comments section that accompanied al-Qattan’s Guardian article, with readers questioning the cultures chosen for selection in the festival’s programme. Some contributors noted the lack of any acknowledgement of Jewish culture at the festival, and whilst there may have been political reasons for such a decision, it would be difficult, for example, to accurately conceive of Algerian chaabi or andalusi music without recognising Jewish involvement in these two musical traditions. Furthermore, the choice of Algerian music at the launch of Shubbak was curious given the apparent focus on the ‘Arab Spring’. Whilst Algeria has not remained untouched by the violence that has spread across the region during this period, it has certainly not been at the heart of these events, and the juxtaposition of Algerian music with political unrest across North Africa and the Middle East therefore appears problematic and erroneous, and seems only to reify generalisations about Arabic culture and the association of Algeria with violence.

       followed up on this and reported over five hundred anti-Muslim crimes in Britain that year, which was an increase of almost forty percent (Jivanda, 2013).

The similarities with the promotional narratives employed to publicise El Gusto are clear, and once again appear removed from the understandings of Algerian audiences. During discussions, in person and online, both prior to and following the concert, there was no mention within the local diaspora of these political themes. Whilst both Taha and Massi are recognised as engaging with political issues, particularly in France, the notion that their music might serve to positively represent broader Arabic culture was absent from the local diasporic discourse surrounding the festival. The often contrasting political, commericial and cultural agendas that formed the promotional characteristics of Shubbak all appeared to be disconnected from the ways in which Algerians perceived the event, which conceived of the concert as entertainment and a representation of their country’s popular musics.

As with El Gusto’s performance at the same venue, the audience for the concert contained a large proportion of Algerians, drawn from across the city’s diasporic population. In his Guardian article, al-Qattan is keen to acknowledge local diasporic groups living in London, writing that,

We know how damaging displacement can be, particularly on children from families without the resources – financial, but most of all cultural – to survive happily here…Shubbak, with collaborators from all over the world, many of whom are based here, is a small testimony to both the tragedies and the triumphs of being exiled and offers an alternative way for us in Britain to relate to the Arab region, based on understanding and respect. (al-Qattan, 2013)

The author’s positioning of diasporas as disadvantaged groups, who have often been forced to leave their countries in traumatic circumstances, is inconsistent with the experiences of many Algerians in London, who have commonly moved to Britain for educational or employment opportunities. Whilst the legacy of their nation’s civil war endures within contemporary Algerian societies, this notion of

‘tragedy’ and ‘exile’ is not only an erroneous representation of the city’s Algerian diaspora, but also serves to portray Algerians in London as victims. This underscores the problems of homogenous concepts of Arab or Islamic culture and diasporic experience. Although Shubbak apparently intends to further British public understanding of the cultures that it represents, by embedding

Algeria within broader notions of an ‘Arab region’ through the programming of this musical event, the festival risks not only misrepresenting Algerian culture, but adding to the harmful stereotypes and misconceptions that have blighted the diaspora in London. As such, whilst presenting Massi and Taha through the showcase opening event of the festival, and appearing to promote Algerian culture, Shubbak also inadvertently reinforces some of the negative stereotypes that Algerians in the city aim to avoid.

The claim that Shubbak actively engaged with diasporic populations in London is also questionable. The organisers of this particular event made no attempt to involve Algerian musicians living in the city, and whilst some were involved in the wider programming of the festival, at least one Algerian singer was booked by the festival’s organisers to perform at the same time as Massi and Taha, but on the other side of the city, not only stopping them from attending the launch event, but also significantly diminishing their audience.

There was also little attempt to reach out and publicise the concert within local diasporic networks, and many Algerians only heard about the event through word of mouth.

For many of the Algerians at the concert, the combination of Taha and Massi on the same programme was also somewhat strange. Although both musicians are promoted in Europe and North America under the broad rubric of world music, their musical styles, and their reputations as performers, are significantly different.¹⁴² Taha is renowned as a controversial and outspoken character, is sometimes labelled as a punk musician, and his music has increasingly made use of technology and an electronically synthesised sound world. In contrast, Massi is known as an acoustic guitar-playing singer-songwriter, and whilst she addresses political issues, she is considered a much less controversial character amongst Algerian audiences. Whilst Shubbak attempted to represent the diversity of Arabic culture, for many of the Algerians

142 Although Rachid Taha is often labelled as a world music artist in the UK, in the programme notes for the concert he argues that ‘my music always has the smell of Algeria, but that’s only one of many things. And it’s certainly not world music. That for me is a nonsense term’ (Lusk, 2013).

that I spoke with, this particular combination of performers simply seemed incongruous.

3.6: Souad Massi on stage at the Barbican.

A group consisting of a drummer, electric bassist, and electric guitarist, as well as a darbuka player who appeared mid-set, joined Massi on stage for her performance. Her songs, with lyrics in French and Arabic, were warmly received by the audience, with whom she communicated (mainly in French) between songs, having previously apologised for her lack of English. As the performance developed, she played more pieces from her earlier albums, with which the Algerians in the audience were clearly more familiar, and this produced cheers of encouragement as well as dancing and ululating. Some Algerian members of the audience moved forwards from their seats, dancing in front of the stage, and shouting song requests in French and Darija. The non-Algerians in the audience responded in a similar manner to those at the El Gusto concert, and the reactions of the Algerian listeners became as much of a focal point as the musicians on stage. As her set drew to a close she left the stage to applause and cheers from members of the audience. After the concert, an Algerian friend

extolled the virtues of her musicianship and songwriting, enthusiastically exclaiming that ‘she’s fantastic, what a show!’¹⁴³

3.7: Rachid Taha performing at the Barbican.

The differences between the musical and performance styles of Massi and Taha were immediately apparent when the latter entered the stage. Although Taha has developed a reputation as a controversial musician and outspoken public figure, there appeared surprise, particularly amongst the Algerians present, when he emerged amid low lighting and dry ice, dressed, like his band,       

143 Interview, July 2013.

entirely in black. Taha began with songs taken from his more recent albums, which feature an electronically synthesised soundworld and quadruple metre dance rhythms, and are more evocative of Euro-American electro and industrial musics than traditional Algerian styles. Strobe lighting flickered from the stage, and Taha’s vocals were heavily manipulated with reverb and other sound effects. However, as with Massi, it was when Taha performed his earlier repertoire that he received the most positive reactions from audience members, both Algerian and non-Algerian, and those songs with strong Algerian stylistic influence (with elements drawn from raï and chaabi) and instrumentation (such as ‘ud) appeared most popular. Like Massi, he addressed the audience in French in between songs, and there was a sense that he was speaking directly to the Algerian diaspora present at the concert. Taha’s cover of Ya Rayah, and his hit song Rock el Casbah, were particularly well received, and many of the Algerians who had remained within the concert hall were moved to dance, clap, sing and ululate to signal their appreciation.¹⁴⁴

Not all audience members had reacted so positively however. When Taha had initially taken to the stage amid strobe lighting, the response of many Algerians in the audience was to stand up and immediately leave the concert. A family with small children, who had moments earlier been praising Massi’s performance, shook their heads, and after a short discussion, led their children from the concert hall. An Algerian friend and musician, who voiced his respect for Taha’s earlier work, also left after the first song, and later suggested that,

This is not for Algerians, Algerians don’t want to listen to this. He’s all about promoting drugs, promoting cocaine and these things. You don’t want your kids listening to this, seeing this. I wouldn’t want my kids to see him.¹⁴⁵

This was not a universal response from all of the Algerians in the audience, and other friends told me after the concert that they had enjoyed it. But Taha’s

This was not a universal response from all of the Algerians in the audience, and other friends told me after the concert that they had enjoyed it. But Taha’s