Schneewittchen, a film by Stanley Schtinter based on a text by Robert Walser, opens with a shot of a man in black lying in a field of snow, supine, one arm thrown out. The scene emulates photographs taken on Christmas Day 1956, when Walser left the asylum where he had spent 23 years to go for a walk, never to return. The images have inspired many reconstructions. The one in Schneewittchen has the director playing the writer. Not everyone who came to the film’s UK premiere at the BFI last month realised that Schtinter was in it.
Tuberculosis is the world’s most deadly infectious disease, killing more than a million people a year and infecting many millions more, even though treatment in the form of antibiotics has existed for seventy years. TB predominantly affects the poor in the Global South. As Paul Farmer wrote in Infections and Inequalities (1999), ‘the “forgotten plague” was forgotten in large part because it ceased to bother the wealthy.’
The British brought the system of administrative detention to Palestine when they were the mandatory power. The rules also authorised military courts, restriction of movement, censorship, the expropriation and demolition of houses, arbitrary searches and curfews, and were used by the British against both Palestinians and immigrants of Jewish and other religious backgrounds. Despite many of its founders being caught on the wrong side of these laws, Israel adopted them in 1948 and has strenuously resisted attempts to modify their provisions.
On Sunday, 9 March, at Southbank Centre’s Queen Elizabeth Hall, the City of London Sinfonia and the London Review of Books will be collaborating on an evening of music and readings inspired by Edward Said’s last, posthumous book, On Late Style: Music and Literature Against the Grain.
Juan Camilo Hernández was born in Caldono, in south-west Colombia, in 1977. When he was sixteen he took part in a day of collective work (minga) with the Nasa Indigenous people. A commission from the FARC, led by nineteen-year-old Betty Lorena Castro, showed up to help. An elder Nasa woman told Castro that they wanted no guerrillas in the minga, since the Indigenous struggle was independent of la lucha armada.
Friedrich Merz, the leader of the Christian Democratic Union (CDU) and soon to be chancellor of Germany, announced he was going ‘all in’ last month when he presented the Bundestag with his plan to turn asylum seekers away at the border. This meant openly courting support from the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD), whose votes proved decisive. It was already clear that migration – not Ukraine, the climate or the recessionary economy – would be the dominant theme of the federal election on 23 February. But after a deadly knife attack by a rejected Afghan asylum seeker in Aschaffenburg on 22 January, Merz upped the ante. It was a characteristically impulsive and provocative move, without a clear purpose other than to prove his mettle by violating the taboo on co-operating with the far right.
As the two coffins were driven through the crowd, a deep, sorrowful voice came from the loudspeakers. The sound of a violin rose as the voice of the man receded. I texted people in Beirut to confirm that the music was playing at the funeral, not being added by the television broadcasters.