eJournals Forum Modernes Theater 34/1

Forum Modernes Theater
fmth
0930-5874
Narr Verlag Tübingen
10.24053/FMTh-2023-0003
61
2023
341 Balme

Don’t Move! Choreography as a Means of Arranging Protest in Times of Curfew

61
2023
Susanne Foellmer
This article investigates protesting when there are restrictions on public assembly. In spring 2020, social movements (partly unwittingly) used choreographic means in order to deal with the prohibition of public gatherings, imposed by the Covid-19 pandemic. Examples in Tel Aviv (Black Flag protest, 19 April) and the campaign Empty Chairs in Germany (24 April) have one prominent characteristic in common: The lack of expansive spatial movement. The article delineates the ways in which these protests aimed to make their voices heard: Choreographic arrangements of physically distanced bodies were assigned on site to produce highly affective images for social media, thus shifting the focus of the protests’ visibility into the online public sphere. In addition, the different situations of vulnerable bodies calling to action are of interest: Given the pandemic times, the concept of protection takes precedence.
fmth3410018
Don ’ t Move! Choreography as a Means of Arranging Protest in Times of Curfew Susanne Foellmer (Coventry) This article investigates protesting when there are restrictions on public assembly. In spring 2020, social movements (partly unwittingly) used choreographic means in order to deal with the prohibition of public gatherings, imposed by the Covid-19 pandemic. Examples in Tel Aviv (Black Flag protest, 19 April) and the campaign Empty Chairs in Germany (24 April) have one prominent characteristic in common: The lack of expansive spatial movement. The article delineates the ways in which these protests aimed to make their voices heard: Choreographic arrangements of physically distanced bodies were assigned on site to produce highly affective images for social media, thus shifting the focus of the protests ’ visibility into the online public sphere. In addition, the different situations of vulnerable bodies calling to action are of interest: Given the pandemic times, the concept of protection takes precedence. The interweaving of dance and protest is a common phenomenon in recent social movements such as in the regular flash mob One Billion Rising that happens annually on Valentine ’ s Day. 1 Activists and participants in this event are advocating for the end of violence against women worldwide, doing so by usually dancing to a choreography that is available on YouTube beforehand, and that can be learned and then performed in specified public places on 14 February at an agreed time. Videos and photos of these dance-protests are then circulated on the internet on various channels or on the organizers ’ website. Despite the increasing relevance of various social media platforms in the communication of public dissent, bodies gathering in the public sphere are still crucial in the struggle for social and political justice. But what happens if the physical public sphere is not available, as in the Covid-19 pandemic, which significantly limited public assembly in many countries all over the globe during the first lockdowns in spring 2020? 2 How does protest change, and how can choreography, in particular, support the ongoing need to make one ’ s voice heard? In this article, I investigate recent developments in protesting triggered by restrictions on public movement. Here, I argue, especially choreographic means are (often unwittingly) used to deal with the prohibition on ‘ corporeal crowds ’ gathering outside. By way of visual (pictorial) examples, I analyse a protest in Tel Aviv that used strict physical distancing in order to bypass the ban on assembly, and the protests of locked down restaurant owners in Germany, which omitted the appearance of human bodies entirely by placing empty chairs and tables on central squares, thus arranging “ choreographic objects ” 3 in a silent protest. Both events have a prominent characteristic in common: a lack of widespread, dynamic spatial movement of bodies conventionally gathering or marching in close proximity. Hence, in both examples there is the predicament of how to deal with (physical) social movement in the public sphere while also complying with exceptional health and safety regulations. Taking a closer look at these two protest situations, I will delineate how choreography is used as a tool to create a protest, especially when social movements face public and physical constraints. At the Forum Modernes Theater, 34/ 1, 18 - 31. Gunter Narr Verlag Tübingen DOI 10.24053/ FMTh-2023-0003 same time, choreography serves as an analytical lens to detect and describe the reconfigured modes of protesting in recent social movements. Choreography ’ s Relation to Social Movement The interrelation of dance, choreography and social or political contexts has been acknowledged in academia recently. The late dancer and Professor in Art and Policy Randy Martin provided a theoretical foundation for the intertwinement of dance and politics, placing movement and mobilization at the centre of his thoughts. 4 This connection between dance and politics is mainly two-fold: Firstly, it is generated by the observation that political action is always already in motion, “ [i]t doesn ’ t await ignition ” . 5 Predominantly, these are bodies in motion, and here dance can emphasize how these bodies are organized, and how mobilization and thus political activity comes into effect. 6 Secondly, dance and politics are both related to “ forces ” that play a significant role in the making of society. 7 Here, dance can give a clearer idea about how these forces come about in situations of political dispute: “ [D]ance displays, in the very ways that bodies are placed in motion, traces of the forces of contestation that can be found in society at large. ” 8 The modes of empowerment of the connection between dance and politics in social movements is described by political theorist Dana Mills. Based upon the idea that dance is a means of communication, that is, “ an embodied language ” 9 , she argues that dance can hence provide opportunities for expressing political concerns 10 . According to Mills, campaigns such as One Billion Rising can empower protesters by both reclaiming public space and promoting respectful treatment of women. 11 More generally, literary scholar Andrew Hewitt posits choreography as an aesthetic model for the (re-)articulation of social orders. Social dances, for instance, can serve as both an aesthetic model and the “ enactment ” of social behaviour. 12 Hewitt is keen to highlight that choreography, here, “ is not only a secondary representation but also a primary performance of that order ” 13 , that is: Dances not only suggest a certain desired order yet to come, but also engender the very modes of socially being together. On that basis, Hewitt frames choreography as an “ aesthetic practice ” in the “ working out [ … ] of [ … ] social relations ” , 14 by mainly looking at examples in early 20th century dance history (such as Isadora Duncan). Dance scholar Susan Leigh Foster, however, concentrates on the concept of bodies in motion in situations of upheaval since the 1960 s. She further expands on social choreography by emphasizing choreography as a mode of embodied training in situations of protest. According to her, choreography can serve as a way of preparing activists by applying particular corporeal techniques in order to build up perseverance, for instance, for the die-ins within the scope of the ACT UP movement on Wall Street in 1987. 15 Putting the focus on the body, Foster emphasizes the “ central role that physicality plays in constructing both individual agency and sociality ” . 16 In addition to the activists gaining physical stamina, choreographing protests can also entail the planning of an action: Foster investigates the Greensboro sit-in in the context of the Civil Rights movement in the USA, where Black college students went to Woolworth and took seats at the “ white-only lunch counter ” (1960). 17 In this case, choreography almost serves as a script to meticulously assign the action in accordance with the principles of “ nonviolent, direct action ” , and to avoid violence against the activists. 18 Dance scholar Olive Mckeon adds to this perspective with an 19 Don ’ t Move! Choreography as a Means of Arranging Protest in Times of Curfew emphasis on unruly bodies when applying choreography as an analytical tool to investigate examples of direct action: She emphasizes the material aspect of bodies acting in situations of political upheaval, arguing that actions such as blockades cannot be explained by referring to discursive frameworks only. 19 These conceptual positions already give an idea of the manifold potential of choreography in particular: It can act as a creative, tactical agent as well as an ordering, at times strategical, societal force. Especially with regards to the latter strand, it is worth looking at what the concept of choreography entails. As I will show later by way of the two examples mentioned above, choreography in social movements firstly serves, in its ‘ conventional ’ , artistic, sense, as a spatial script or a score used to shape and prepare an action in which moving bodies are usually involved. The application of such methods can then also provide the possibility of employing choreography as an analytical tool to decode protests ’ mobile (or, in these cases, mostly immobile) structures. Secondly, and on a more general level, choreography entails the regulation of movement, that is, its assignments and arrangements, 20 for instance, when trying to facilitate a protest while complying with strict physical distancing measures. Here, the characteristics of choreography as an ordering force, as “ governance ” play a significant role. Sociologist Rudi Laermans points out choreography ’ s intrinsic governmentality, that is, its power dynamics. He introduces choreography as a “ forcefield [ … ] of actions and interactions ” 21 and equates it with the Foucauldian idea of power, that is, its dynamic structures and regulations. According to Laermans, these actions and interactions can take place between single human beings or collectives, and their respective environments. 22 Such a take on choreography expands the conventional concept of the single author-artist, the choreographer, who usually assigns preconfigured steps to dancers. I argue that this shift places choreography in a field of power relations which then can also appear outside of the dancerly realm, in moments of arranging and configuring masses of people in motion such as in a protest. Both dance and protest deal with movement in a certain, often pre-arranged, time and space. In protests, movements usually start with a structure such as following a certain preconceived route, via streets or places, sometimes creating specific marching patterns. At times, they mobilize vast numbers of people who amass physically in the public sphere, gathering for a rally, occasionally blocking vital traffic routes, or getting off track. However, the pandemic caused by the novel coronavirus put a halt to such activities, at least in the first few months of 2020. 23 With restrictions on physical movement in place, protesters had to become inventive in finding new ways to get their message across - when still holding on to the ambition to voice their concerns on the streets. Thinking of choreography as a mode of governing, of ordering and regulating movements, choreography then can be used as a tool to re-set and reenable protests under these new circumstances, as I will demonstrate with the two examples in the next section - even if the protesters would not necessarily refer to their practice as choreographic. However, such restrictions on public physical movement are not a novel phenomenon. In fact, protesters often had to cope with limitations on public movement in the past. A prominent example is the action of the so-called Standing Man (Duran Adam) within the scope of the Gezi Park protests in Istanbul in 2013. 24 Protesting in Istanbul became almost impossible after the police raided the camp of activists erected in Gezi Park, followed by a ban on public assembly. The single action of performer Erdem Gün- 20 Susanne Foellmer düz dealt with the predicament the protesters found themselves in, subverting the ban by ‘ just ’ standing in one place at Taksim Square on the evening of 17 June 2013, with his hands in the pockets of his trousers and his gaze directed towards the front of the nearby Atatürk Centre. As it was not forbidden to simply stand alone in a public place, the policemen, who soon showed up, did not know what to make of it 25 as they had no power to stop someone who was possibly just waiting for a friend or the bus. However, the action swiftly went viral on social media, 26 and many people joined Gündüz, standing still at his side, and producing further photos and videos posted online. Hence, while these (clandestine) protesters did not walk through the streets, the imagery of the protest quickly spread across the media channels worldwide. The meticulous choreography according to the pandemic guidelines is one focus of the investigations on recent protests in times of Covid-19 in the following section. Another aspect is the increasing importance of producing visual media content. Activists create powerful images for distribution in social and mainstream media, and I argue here that choreography helps to design such images. The two examples that I shall analyse below caught my attention when scrolling through my Twitter feed during the first lockdown in April 2020. Stop Motion On 19 April 2020, thousands of protesters took to the streets in Tel Aviv, or rather, they gathered in the city ’ s Rabin Square. The action was part of the ongoing Black Flag campaign, which started in March of the same year. It was a reaction to recent measures by the government, which allowed the secret service to track the mobile phones of civilians in the course of the coronavirus pandemic. Activists largely denounced the “ anti-democratic ” tendencies of these measures. 27 Remarkably, protesting was still allowed as long as social distancing measures were put in place. Hence, the organizers of the protest prepared Rabin Square by sticking black crosses onto the ground, which permitted the protesters to stand immobile on one spot, in a radial distance of six feet apart. Fig. 1: Black Flag Protest, Tel Aviv 19 April 2020. Photo: Tomer Appelbaum, in: Haaretz, 19 April 2020. The aerial shot of the action 28 (Fig. 1) immediately gained attention in mainstream and social media (Fig. 2) because of its impressively patterned, physically distanced choreography of the masses, creating a powerful, almost ornamental image. Fig. 2: Black Flag Protest, Tel Aviv 19 April 2020. Around the same time, on 24 April 2020, members of the German hospitality sector 21 Don ’ t Move! Choreography as a Means of Arranging Protest in Times of Curfew launched the Aktion Leere Stühle [Empty Chairs Campaign]. Owners of restaurants, bars, or cafés voiced their concerns as the ongoing lockdown caused an existential threat to their businesses, and demanded that the German government steps in and provides financial support. At first sight, this campaign does not seem to engage in the choreography of a protest because of the absence of any bodies (Fig. 3) - a fact that mirrored the situation in the hospitality sector - which ultimately was the message of the campaign. However, the action not only produced impressive media images, it also used the principle of “ choreographic objects ” 29 to make a statement while also complying with those regulations that were impacting on the hospitality industry in the first place. I will explain the connection to (and reshaping of) this choreographic concept in the next section. Fig. 3: Aktion Leere Stühle [Empty Chairs Campaign], Brandenburg Gate, Berlin, 24 April 2020. The chairs in the Aktion Leere Stühle were meticulously placed, forming an evenly shaped, repetitive arrangement, thereby recalling the structure of the spatially distanced protesters in Tel Aviv. Both actions make use of choreographic principles to facilitate their event, circumventing the prohibition on conventional gatherings and thus inventing new spatial arrangements of public dissent. Investigating these two examples of protest in situations of lockdown more closely, I will now focus on two aspects: Firstly, the shift away from common protest set-ups, achieved by the use of choreographic orders (triggered by the need to obey prescribed spatial arrangements), and secondly, the question of bodies and their vulnerability in these situations. Re-Assigning Protest As already mentioned, both protest campaigns produced strikingly ornamental iconographies for media distribution through their locally arranged choreographies. Art scholar Kerstin Schankweiler depicts the impact of so-called “ pictorial protests ” (German: “ Bildproteste ” ) by referring to the use of images on social media, for instance, during the Arab Spring in 2011. Schankweiler emphasizes the affective potential of “ image activism ” (German: “ Bildaktivismus ” ) within today ’ s “ economy of attention ” . 30 Her analysis is based upon so-called “ image icons ” (German: “ Bildikonen ” ) such as the Tank Man, standing in front of a tank in Beijing ’ s Tiananmen Square in 1989. 31 Such iconic pictures evoke corporeal empathy, she argues, by building upon the stirring up of strong emotions. 32 Now such emotive imagery and the associated memes are reinforced by (social) media posts, thereby engendering “ affective communities ” (German: “ Affektgemeinschaften ” ). 33 The difference to traditional protest environments - taking place on the streets and eventually being reported in the press - is their connection via social media, by way of emotionally loaded imagery posted, shared, and distributed among a community of usually like-minded users. Albeit many of them may not participate in the protest on site, they are connected via the online distribution of its visuals 34 , thus being affectively involved in the protest as “ co-witnesses ” (German: “ Co-Zeug*innen ” ). 35 22 Susanne Foellmer Such media images are produced by displaying and distributing iconographic pictures of protesting (individual) bodies such as the Standing Man, thus evoking a strong sense of affection and togetherness through the virality of media distribution. Pictures of the aerial shot of the Black Flag protest have been shared widely on social media, for instance, on Twitter, adding subtitles which use a vocabulary of amazement and fascination 36 . I would now argue that affective communities can be brought about through choreographic arrangements as well, which can generate structured dynamics of bodies, or non-bodies, gathering 37 as those described in the two examples above. In Tel Aviv, this is partly achieved by the rigorous embodied placement and ordering of the protesters on site, utilizing the novel constraints to produce visuals by applying an efficient camera perspective (aerial shot), hence explicitly combining corporeal and mediated protest. At the same time, protesters may have also (accidentally) benefited from the place ’ s symbolic value as a site of numerous rallies and campaigns, and bearing its name since 1995, honouring Yitzhak Rabin who was shot at this very location in the same year. Similarly, Aktion Leere Stühle used the symbolic potential of specific locations, for instance, by placing the chairs in front of Berlin ’ s Brandenburg Gate (Fig. 3) or on central squares in cities such as Frankfurt/ Main, highlighting the social and economic void citizens and business owners had to deal with during the first lockdown. While the Black Flag protest used (imposed) choreographic means to allow a physically distanced and largely immobile protest, the choreographic arrangement in Aktion Leere Stühle is not that evident at first sight, simply as no-body is there. What can be detected here is a shift in the protesting procedure that basically uses aesthetic means in order to gain attention. The chairs literally “ stand ” in for the missing customers; however, they do not represent a typical arrangement in a restaurant or a café: The chairs are placed side by side, not facing each other, while the tables have been omitted entirely - evoking an even bleaker image of the current situation. While forming an ornamental pattern, each chair seems to stand alone, in solitude, due to the position chosen, partly resembling a random set of audience seating. The allusion to empty (theatre) seats is not that farfetched: By “ facing ” towards a (virtual) audience - in this case, the politicians addressed to make changes or to help the affected industry - the chairs create a visual representation for the organizers ’ message. Hence, I would argue that the protesters are arranging an almost theatrical set-up, 38 albeit actors and spectators are (mostly) missing, using aesthetic choreographic tools in shifting the everyday arrangement of hospitality ’ s furniture by slightly changing the seating order, thereby creating an extra-ordinary arrangement - and thus symbolizing its impracticality for hospitality due to the lockdown measures. At the same time, the pattern of the chairs creates a strong emotional image. The Dresden event, for instance, posted an aerial shot of the protest, showing the chairs forming the letters “ S. O. S. ” . The campaign and particularly its images received widespread coverage, not only on social media, but also in newspapers all across Germany as well as the national news broadcasts. The images produced particularly shift the power of protest often achieved through amassing bodies - gathering on-site, and eventually blocking public spaces in order to interrupt everyday life - to the power of the message being distributed in the media, by creating and presenting an arranged irregularity of an (otherwise) regular order. In this sense, the chairs act as “ choreographic objects ” , a concept that was coined by choreographer William Forsythe. 39 Pro- 23 Don ’ t Move! Choreography as a Means of Arranging Protest in Times of Curfew jects such as Forsythe ’ s The Fact of Matter (2009), for instance, consisted of a course made of ropes hanging vertically from the ceiling with rings on the end of them - resembling equipment one might recall from the sports hall at school - and through which visitors could climb and “ walk ” from one end to the other, thus being brought into motion by these swinging choreographic objects. 40 In the case of the hospitality campaign, we could say that the arranged chairs serve as choreographic objects as well - albeit in a negative sense in terms of motion: The chairs do not trigger any movement at all. On the contrary, they enhance the fact of the imposed immobility needed to keep the pandemic at bay. Moreover, the empty chairs represent a movement that literally took place in another, prepandemic social time, and that is now missing. Usually, chairs (and tables) in a restaurant produce a certain mode of socializing and, quite often, conviviality. Here though, the chairs ’ purpose has been rearticulated, now choreographing the missing (customers ’ ) bodies, thereby uttering a silent cry for (financial) help. The restrictions on public movement prompted by the pandemic and the responses of most governments worldwide led to a meticulous policing of the corporeal public sphere. In countries such as France, people could only travel more than one kilometre from their home. In China, residents were not allowed to leave their houses at all (receiving essentials such as food via governmental services). Israel permitted people to leave the house to shop for food and medicine only and to go to work if necessary. In Germany, people were permitted to go outside for shopping, exercise, and medical reasons as often as they wished, but they were not allowed to meet with more than one other person at a time. England had similar arrangements but permitted only one outing a day. Dance scholar André Lepecki describes the general monitoring of movement as “ choreopolicing ” which does not necessarily have to involve interaction between persons only. 41 Rather, Lepecki conceptualizes the political itself as demarcated by movement: “ The adjectival ‘ political ’ defined as the movement of freedom is a difficult, everevolving commitment. It is less predicated on a subject than on a movement [ … ], defined by intersubjective action ” . 42 In this context, it is also important not to confuse politics with policies such as “ the issuing of executive orders ” . 43 Lepecki thus juxtaposes the idea of “ choreopolicing ” - where the police, for instance, acts as a “ movement controller ” 44 , striving to bring “ bodies in conformity, and [in] pre-assigned places for circulation ” 45 - with the concept of “ choreopolitics ” . Choreopolitics opposes modes of control, and emphasizes the free movement of bodies, highlighting dancers as model agents of such movements: they “ require[] a redistribution and reinvention of bodies, affects, and senses through which one may learn how to move politically ” . 46 This freedom, however, is not meant to be a loose idea of spontaneity or letting go, but rather closely linked to certain corporeal (dancerly) techniques such as particular structures of improvisation. 47 In the example of the Black Flag protest in Tel Aviv, it was the police who ordered the peculiar method of socially distanced protesting in the first place, directing the protest to be relocated to a larger place, that is, Rabin Square. The authorities also mandated the marking of the ground in order to maintain social distancing and required the protesters to wear a mask so that the action could go ahead. 48 As mentioned earlier, I would frame this as an imposed choreography. Lepecki shines a light on “ how police commands are essentially choreographic ” : 49 In the physically distanced gathering on Rabin Square, this 24 Susanne Foellmer choreographing even followed a score in a very traditional sense, if one understands choreo-graphy as the writing or scripting of movement. Here, the score consisted of the marking of the space with the black crosses on which the protesters were then told to stand still. The police also re-assigned the venue of the protest, re-locating it, perhaps rather accidentally, to Rabin Square to allow everyone to maintain the designated distance. Hence, on the one hand, the protesters ’ movements in Tel Aviv were choreopoliced, in a meticulously scored arrangement of physically distancing. On the other hand, it was indeed these very tools of choreopolicing that allowed a choreopolitical expression of protest, again, by providing the space and place for the activists ’ claims and, not least, by facilitating the structured utterance of political dissent in an already highly politicized space: Rabin Square. Now, what about the choreopolitical, or choreopoliced, potential in Aktion Leere Stühle? The campaign did not actually happen completely without human beings. Actions in cities such as Frankfurt/ Main showed a few mostly male protesters, loosely scattered among the chairs. Whether they were, or used to be, owners of restaurants is not evident as their posture does not quite match the gesture of a welcoming host - and thus rather fits the dysfunctional array of chairs when it comes to its non-convivial arrangement, as described before. What is more, the posing individuals radiate a certain hostility and thus remind one of bouncers in front of a (night) club, legs spread hip width apart, policing the entrance by selecting who can get in and who cannot. Not least, this impression is evoked by the uniformity with which the protesters stand for their claim: Though the black-and-white attire still matches a waiter ’ s typical workwear, the stylistic choice of jeans, t-shirt, and trainers - plus the obligatory face mask - creates a both casual and martial effect (Fig. 4). These protesters thus seem to emphasize the message of the campaign by adopting a fierce-looking posture, literally standing-in as pars pro toto for all the absent hospitality Fig. 4: Aktion Leere Stühle [Empty Chairs Campaign], Römer, Frankfurt/ Main 24 April 2020. 25 Don ’ t Move! Choreography as a Means of Arranging Protest in Times of Curfew businessmen and -women, their customers, as well as for the strict regulations in place: no entry at the moment. Such corporeal display of restrictions brings a second aspect to the fore, which I would like to address in the next section: The vulnerability of the protesters and their bodies, and the differences between conventional protesting, such as gathering in the streets, and the protests described here. Vulnerability and Protection Judith Butler has been offering a novel perspective on the question of agency in situations of public resistance lately. According to her, protesting against certain societal or political conditions is essentially not triggered by the drive to empower the activists, or the desire to overcome precarious positions or situations. Quite the contrary: Agency is engendered by the very mode of vulnerability in the first place: “ [ … ] even as public resistance leads to vulnerability, and vulnerability leads to resistance, vulnerability is not exactly overcome by resistance, but becomes a potentially effective mobilizing force in political mobilizations. ” 50 Butler modifies her previous conception of the body 51 in this particular context: The body is conceived of its essential needs and, thus, its very rights, such as nutrition, the “ freedom to move ” , or the absence of violence. 52 These bodies then “ enact a form of resistance that presupposes vulnerability [ … ] and opposes precarity. ” 53 Hence, bodies in protest initially become a mobilizing force because of perilous conditions which then lead to discontent. Here, the danger to physical integrity adds to this, that is, the very corporeal risks when gathering in the public sphere. Examples such as the Black Lives Matter movement particularly act on the grounds of the everyday danger of being attacked, arrested, or even murdered by the police 54 . Anusha Kedhar gives an example of such mobilization initiated by the very vulnerability of citizens ’ lives and especially those of Black people in the US. Protesters took to the streets of Ferguson, Missouri in 2014 to voice their anger about the death of Michael Brown, who was shot by police despite raising his hands in innocence and demonstrating the absence of danger by indicating that he was unarmed. Kedhar delineates how this gesture of vulnerability was rearticulated by the protesters, performing and chanting “ Hands up! Don ’ t shoot! ” and thus temporarily reclaiming bodily control in the public space. 55 Butler, again, developed her thoughts at a workshop that took place in Istanbul a few months after the Gezi Park protests, with all its political and social opportunities, followed by the crackdown on its activists. 56 Here, Butler slightly revises Hannah Arendt ’ s idea of the “ space of appearance ” that (provisionally) engenders the societal situation the activists fight for - such as in the camp at Gezi Park with its array of activities - and adds the need to include the infrastructure as well, such as the media conditions of such spaces these days. 57 The examples investigated in this article, however, show a different perspective on the question of vulnerability that is partly enhanced by the spatial restrictions addressed in the previous section. In the Black Flag protest, two different modes of vulnerability come to the foreground. Firstly, there is the threat to health by Covid-19 that engenders a general vulnerability of the population ’ s bodies. This overall condition leads to a protective protesting environment in terms of health and safety issues that is designed by the choreographic tools described before. 58 Secondly, though, the reason for protesting lies in another violation: the violation of personal protection rights by the government ’ s track- 26 Susanne Foellmer ing of private phones, inducing its citizens ’ vulnerability on a rather structural, systemic level. Remarkably, the state, that is, its executive arm, approved of the protest because of the thoroughly planned choreography and thus the orderly arrangement of bodies, prescribed by the police and followed by the protesters in order to be able to freely voice their concerns. In this sense, neither are the bodies in danger from the novel virus - as they all stand a safe distance apart from each other - nor are they themselves a threat to the stately order, as the rally is initially facilitated by official choreopolicing strategies. Hence, what actually comes into focus here is not the question of vulnerability. While this is an initial trigger to start the campaign (the violation of personal rights), the action itself instead promotes the narrative of protection: in defending one ’ s civic rights, and in safeguarding the means and methods to claim them. In Aktion Leere Stühle, modes of protection are on display as well. The assembly of (mainly) no-bodies turns the chairs into symbolic and, at the same, time quite literal place-holders for the critical economic condition many of the restaurants, cafés, and similar places of hospitality find themselves in. The action is arranged in compliance with the regulations, protecting its activists. At the same time, it represents the (mostly invisible) protesters ’ predicament: being protected from opening their businesses in order to survive financially. Here, vulnerability appears again: now as a threat to the financial situation of many of the protesters, with them possibly facing precarious living conditions as a consequence. The “ bouncers ” spread in between the chairs are literally enforcing this status quo on a visual level (fig. 4). They almost act like a repellent and thus highlight the difficulties caused by the pandemic situation in a symbolic manner: The prevention of taking a seat as this is legally forbidden. At the same time, the protesters express their discontent by striking a pose with spread legs and arms at their sides or folded behind their back. Hence, they are literally ‘ standing ’ for the issues caused by the current shutdowns, and the problems the industry is facing. Remarkably, both of the protests turned out to be efficient in achieving their aim or perhaps at least helped to further support their case. In Israel, the parliament finally decided to withdraw the bill that allowed mobile phones to be tracked due to data privacy issues. 59 In Germany, the government agreed to hand out financial aid for restaurants and other hospitality venues: They suspended VAT on meals for a certain period of time (however, this only happened when the hospitality sector was permitted to reopen again). 60 Hospitality employees were also subsequently included in the state ’ s furlough scheme (Kurzarbeit). 61 Conclusion Choreographic principles used to design protests in times of lockdown, not least, enable the creation of affective images that mainly shift the protesting situation online, into the public spheres of social and mass media. Such protests happening on-site thus function as literal pre-scripts to facilitate the distribution of the concerns in the media sphere, provoking affective responses by the choreographic arrangements of bodies - or objects. When bodies are prevented from gathering in huge and dense crowds and when passers-by are not to be expected, when there is no point in blocking roads as there are hardly any cars on site, events such as the two exemplary ones are thus not only facilitated to obey social, that is, physical distancing regulations. Their choreographies are particularly applied to render these events as a quasi-template for further 27 Don ’ t Move! Choreography as a Means of Arranging Protest in Times of Curfew online usage, for videos transmitted on YouTube, for pictures shared on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram. 62 Thus, protests under these special circumstances aim for their mediation by way of using choreographic methods not only to enhance their visibility, as in pre-pandemic times. They are set up to facilitate the dissemination of their message in another media sphere in the first place, I argue. Furthermore, the creation of affective images such as the ones discussed suggests that activists are (partly involuntarily, partly deliberately) choreographing bodies or objects by making use of aesthetic principles, in this context: composing images which provoke a striking message, such as the pattern of bodies assembling on Rabin Square in Tel Aviv or the meticulous arrangement of chairs looking abandoned in an otherwise empty public place. Here, it is striking that activists are either submitting to choreopolicing measures or are deliberately using them to navigate their movements and corporeal assignments onsite (or omitting bodies entirely) in order to ultimately achieve their choreopolitical agenda - that then finds its liberal expression in the online public sphere. In this regard, the narrative of protection explored within the two examples gains yet another point of relevance: as the safeguarding of rights and, at least partly, the means of protesting in times of social and physical public restrictions. Acknowledgements This article was supported by a senior fellowship at the Alfried Krupp Wissenschaftskolleg Greifswald, Germany. Figures: Fig. 1: Black Flag Protest, Tel Aviv 19 April 2020. Photo: Tomer Appelbaum, in: Haaretz, 19 April 2020, https: / / www.ha aretz.com/ israel-news/ .premium-over-athousand-israelis-brave-coronavirus-fea rs-to-protest-netanyahu-1.8781869 [Accessed 14/ 7/ 2022]. © Tomer Appelbaum, Haaretz. Fig. 2: Black Flag Protest, Tel Aviv 19 April 2020. A. Rivkin, Twitter, 20 April 2020, @amandarivkin [Accessed 11/ 2 2021]. © Tomer Appelbaum, Haaretz, ©Amanda Rivkin. Fig. 3: Aktion Leere Stühle [Empty Chairs Campaign], Brandenburg Gate, Berlin, 24 April 2020. © dpa picture alliance/ Alamy Stock Photo. Fig. 4: Aktion Leere Stühle [Empty Chairs Campaign], Römer, Frankfurt/ Main 24 April 2020, photo: © Peter Jülich. 1 The campaign One Billion Rising has been raising awareness of the global problem of violence against women since 2012. https: / / www.onebillionrising.org [Accessed on 05.12.2022]. 2 Following its detection in Wuhan, China in December 2019, the novel coronavirus quickly developed into a global pandemic. Initially, measures to contain the spread of the virus consisted of lockdowns, resulting in restrictions on public life, such as the closure of the hospitality and entertainment sector and so-called non-essential shops, as well as orders to stay indoors, and to study and work (if possible) from home. The closure of schools and kindergartens varied: some countries, such as Sweden, kept them open for children up to 16 years old. The first general lockdown in Germany lasted from 22 March to 4 May 2020 (beginning of the relaxation of restrictions), in Israel it lasted from19 March to 26 April 2020. Italy, which was one of the first European countries to be hit hard by the pandemic, ordered a general lockdown from 10 March to 4 May after having already closed local areas such as Lombardi on 21 February 2020. France locked down from 17 March to 10 May 2020, England from 29 March to 1 June 2020. In all of these countries, lockdowns were interpreted differently by the authorities, ranging 28 Susanne Foellmer from a strict ban on leaving the home except for one hour of exercise and work if needed in England, to no restrictions on exercising outdoors in Germany. Constraints also varied as to the number of people allowed to meet outdoors as well as the physical distance they had to maintain from each other (1.5 metres in Germany, 2 metres in Israel and England). 3 William Forsythe: “ Choreographic Objects ” (Essay), 2008. https: / / www.williamforsythe. com/ essay.html [Accessed on 14.7.2022]. 4 Randy Martin, Critical Moves. Dance Studies in Theory and Politics, Durham 1998. 5 Ibid., p. 2. 6 Ibid., p. 4. 7 Ibid., pp. 3, 6. 8 Ibid., p. 6. 9 Dana Mills, Dance and Politics. Moving Beyond Boundaries, Manchester 2017, p. 15. 10 Ibid., p. 5. 11 Ibid., p. 83. 12 Andrew Hewitt, Social Choreography. Ideology as Performance in Dance and Everyday Movement, Durham and London 2005, p. 2. 13 Ibid., p. 14. 14 Ibid., pp. 16 - 17. 15 Susan Leigh Foster, “ Choreographies of Protest ” , in: Theatre Journal 55/ 3 (2003), pp. 395 - 412, here p. 408. 16 Ibid., p. 395. 17 Ibid., p. 397. 18 Ibid., pp. 397, 398 - 402. 19 Olive Mckeon, “ Solidarity Means Attack: Choreographic Analysis and the West Coast Port Blockade ” , in: activate 3/ 1 (2014), pp. 28 - 39, here pp. 32 - 33. 20 Cf. Jaana Parviainen, “ Choreographing Resistances: Spatial - Kinaesthetic Intelligence and Bodily Knowledge as Political Tools in Activist Work ” , in: Mobilites 5/ 3 (2010), pp. 311 - 329, here p. 314; Maren Butte, Kirsten Maar, Fiona McGovern, Marie- France Rafael, and Jörn Schafaff, “ Introduction ” , in: Maren Butte/ Kirsten Maar/ Fiona McGovern/ Marie-France Rafael/ Jörn Schafaff (eds.), Assign and Arrange. Methodologies of Presentation in Art and Dance, Berlin 2014, pp. 19 - 29, here p. 21. 21 Rudi Laermans, “‘ Dance in General ’ or Choreographing the Public, Making Assemblages ” , in: Performance Research 13/ 1 (2008): pp. 7 - 12, here p. 12. 22 Ibid. 23 Restrictions on assembly were soon either relaxed or ignored, however: In Israel, angry citizens took to the streets in July 2020 to protest against Benjamin Netanyahu ’ s policy. A camp erected in front of the then prime minister ’ s house was finally torn down by the police. Cf. Oliver Holmes and Quique Kierszenbaum, “ Israeli police tear down anti-Netanyahu protest camp ” , in: The Guardian, 13.07.2020, https: / / www.theguardian.c om/ world/ 2020/ jul/ 13/ israeli-police-tear-do wn-anti-netanyahu-protest-camp-corrupti on-covid-19-crisis [Accessed on 14.07.2022]. Earlier, in June 2020, activists gathered and marched in the US and then many more countries to claim that Black Lives Matter, a movement triggered by the death of George Floyd who was murdered by a police officer. 24 From 28 May 2013 to 17 June 2013, activists gathered in Gezi Park, close to Istanbul ’ s Taksim Square, initially to protest against urban developments planned in the area. Starting with sit-ins, the gathering developed into a protest camp with tents being pitched on site, facilitating opportunities for assembly, discussion, planning and performing further actions. See Gurur Ertem, “ Gezi Uprising. Performative Democracy and Politics of the Body in an Extended Space of Appearance ” , in: Susanne Foellmer/ Margreth Lünenborg/ Christoph Raetzsch (eds.), Media Practices, Social Movements, and Performativity. Transdisciplinary Approaches. New York/ Abingdon 2018, pp. 81 - 99, here pp. 92 - 95. 25 Ibid., p. 93. 26 Ibid. 27 Middle East Monitor, “ Israel protest against ‘ anti-democratic ’ government measures comply with social distancing ” , 20/ 4/ 2020, https: / / www.middleeastmonitor.com/ 20200 420-israel-protest-against-anti-democratic-g overnment-measures-comply-with-social-di stancing/ [Accessed on 14.07.2022]. 29 Don ’ t Move! Choreography as a Means of Arranging Protest in Times of Curfew 28 The photo by Tomer Appelbaum was a shot taken from a drone, and later won him the Siena International Photo Award. Cf. Naama Riba, “ Haaretz Photographer Wins International Prize for This Incredible Shot ” , in: Haaretz, 24 September 2020, https: / / www.h aaretz.com/ israel-news/ .premium.MAGA ZINE-haaretz-photographer-wins-interna tional-prize-for-this-incredible-picture-1.91 83860 [Accessed on 14.07.2022]. 29 Forsythe, “ Choreographic Objects ” . 30 Kerstin Schankweiler, Bildproteste. Widerstand im Netz (Pictorial Protests. Resistance on the Internet), Berlin 2019, pp. 58 - 59 31 Ibid., pp. 25 - 26. 32 Ibid., p. 60. 33 Ibid. 34 See also Bennett and Segerberg on the dynamics of “ connective action ” in social media activism. Bennett, W. Lance and Alexandra Segerberg, “ The Logic of Connective Action ” , in: Information, Communication and Society 15/ 5 (2012), pp. 739 - 768. 35 Schankweiler, Bildproteste, p. 60. 36 Twitter user Jon Suante, for instance, admires the “ breathtaking ” imagery. J. Suante, Tweet on Tomer Appelbaum ’ s photograph of the Black Flag Protests Tel Aviv, @jon_suante, Twitter: 20/ 4/ 2020 [Accessed on 21.02.2022]. 37 Earlier, Elias Canetti already gave a vivid account of the idea of masses and emotions, by investigating the dynamics of crowds. Here though, it is particularly the momentum of crowding, of forming dense, at times rhythmical huddles, that provides situations of experiencing an affective togetherness, which he describes, for instance, in the very moment of “ discharge ” : “ Only together can men free themselves from their burdens of distance; and this, precisely, is what happens in a crowd. During the discharge distinctions are thrown off and all feel equal. In that density, where there is scarcely any space between, and body presses against body, each man is as near the other as he is to himself; and an immense feeling of relief ensues. It is for the sake of this blessed moment, when no-one is greater or better than another, that people become a crowd ” . Elias Canetti, Crowds and Power [1960], New York 1978, p. 18. I would argue that, in times in which precisely these dense masses are a pandemic taboo, other means of affective engagement such as via social media come to the fore. 38 Richard Schechner as well as Erica Fischer- Lichte and Matthias Warstat argue that performance happens in everyday life as well. Schechner focuses on performative action in rituals and the potential of drama in ordinary situations, Fischer-Lichte and Warstat attribute theatrical qualities especially to festive events. For protest as theatrical arrangement see also Schlossman, comparing the concepts of “ actors and activists ” , as well as Donath, investigating the theatrical arrangement of “ protest choirs ” in social movements such as the Arab Spring (2011) and Occupy Wall Street (2011). Richard Schechner, Performance Theory [1977], New York/ Abingdon 2003; Erika Fischer- Lichte/ Matthias Warstat (eds.), Staging Festivity: Theater und Fest in Europa, Tübingen 2009; David A. Schlossman, Actors and Activists: Performance, Politics, and Exchange Among Social Worlds, London/ New York 2002; Stefan Donath, Protestchöre. Zu einer neuen Ästhetik des Widerstands. Stuttgart 21, Arabischer Frühling und Occupy in theaterwissenschaftlicher Perspektive, Bielefeld 2018. 39 Forsythe, “ Choreographic Objects ” . 40 The installation was presented (and used) at exhibitions such as Move: Choreographing You. Art and Dance Since the 1960 s (curated by Stephanie Rosenthal, Hayward Gallery, London; Haus der Kunst, Munich; Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen, Düsseldorf, 2010 - 2011). 41 André Lepecki, “ Choreopolice and Choreopolitics: Or, the Task of the Dancer ” , in: TDR: The Drama Review 57/ 4 (2013), pp. 13 - 27. 42 Ibid., p. 14. 43 Ibid., p. 15. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid., p. 19. 46 Ibid. 47 Ibid., p. 21. 30 Susanne Foellmer 48 Josh Breiner, “ Two Thousand Israelis Brave Coronavirus Fears to Protest Assault on Democracy ” , in: Haaretz, 19/ 4/ 2020, https: / / w ww.haaretz.com/ israel-news/ .premium-overa-thousand-israelis-brave-coronavirus-fearsto-protest-netanyahu-1.8781869 [Accessed on 14.07.2022]. 49 Lepecki, “ Choreopolice and Choreopolitics ” , p. 16. 50 Judith Butler, “ Rethinking Vulnerability and Resistance ” , in: Judith Butler/ Zeynep Gambetti/ Leticia Sabsay (eds.), Vulnerability in Resistance. Durham/ London 2016, pp. 12 - 27, here p. 14. 51 In her earlier works, Butler places the body in the (normative) realm of language. Judith Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity, London/ New York 1990; Judith Butler, Bodies That Matter. On the Discursive Limits of ‘ Sex ’ , London/ New York 1993. 52 Butler, “ Rethinking Vulnerability and Resistance ” , p. 15. 53 Ibid. 54 Ibid., pp. 19 - 20. 55 Anusha Kedhar, “‘ Hands Up! Don ’ t Shoot! ’ : Gesture, Choreography, and Protest in Ferguson ” , in: The Feminist Wire, 14.10.2014, https: / / thefeministwire.com/ 2014/ 10/ pro test-in-ferguson/ [Accessed on 14.07.2022]. 56 Judith Butler, Zeynep Gambetti, and Leticia Sabsay, “ Acknowledgements ” , in: Butler, Gambetti, and Sabsay (eds.), Vulnerability in Resistance, pp. ix - x, here p. ix. 57 Butler, “ Rethinking Vulnerability and Resistance ” , p. 14. 58 Parviainen addresses such vulnerability in protests, for instance, as risk mitigation, examining, for example, an intervention by Greenpeace activists (2007): The action is meticulously choreographed by deliberately putting the protesters ’ bodies at risk, while at the same time keeping the danger at bay because of the choreographic preparation of the campaign. Parviainen, “ Choreographing Resistances ” , p. 323. 59 See Dan Williams and Ari Rabinovitch, “ Israel suspends cellphone-tracking for coronavirus quarantine enforcement ” , in: Reuters, 22.04.2020, https: / / www.reuters.com/ ar ticle/ us-health-coronavirus-israel-police-id USKCN2242JJ [Accessed on 05.12.2022]. 60 See information provided by the German Government. https: / / www.bundesregierung. de/ breg-de/ themen/ coronavirus/ faq-mehr wertsteuersenkung-1764364 [Accessed on 05.12.2022]. 61 See information from the German Ministry of Finance on the novel Corona-Steuerhilfegesetz (law on Corona-related tax support). https: / / www.bundesfinanzministerium.de/ Content/ DE/ Pressemitteilungen/ Finanzpoli tik/ 2020/ 05/ 2020 - 05 - 06-Hilfen-Gastrono mie.html [Accessed on 05.12.2022]. 62 Such arrangements can be also conceptualized as “ pre-enactments ” , that is, setting up a protest on site with the main intention of spreading its cause and demands in the online public sphere. See Susanne Foellmer, “ (Pre-)Enacting Resistance? Protest and the Means of Staging ” , in: Adam Czirak et al. (eds.), Performance zwischen den Zeiten. Reenactments und Preenactments in Kunst und Wissenschaft, Bielefeld 2019, pp. 141 - 157. 31 Don ’ t Move! Choreography as a Means of Arranging Protest in Times of Curfew