Editorial / Linda Klösel / Version 5

Taking the knee became a defining symbol of the Black Lives Matter movement when NFL football player Colin Kaepernick chose not to stand for the national anthem in August 2016 but instead knelt in protest. At the time, numerous cases of police violence against Black people had gained widespread attention: Trayvon Martin in 2012, Eric Garner, Michael Brown, and Tamir Rice in 2014, and just before the start of the 2016 NFL season, Philando Castile. It was also around this time that the hashtag #BlackLivesMatter first emerged.  Many fans and media outlets, including Fox News, launched attacks against the 49ers quarterback in reports and tweets. Donald Trump—then in the midst of his presidential campaign—publicly insulted Kaepernick, calling him a „son of a bitch“ and demanding his dismissal. And indeed, the former super-talent Kaepernick remains without a team to this day.

While some saw his gesture as a sign of disrespect toward national pride and reacted with irrational anger, for many others, it quickly became a powerful symbol of a growing protest movement that attracted thousands of supporters. Taking the knee became a symbol of protest against racism and oppression. This act is, in itself, a paradoxical intervention: because those who kneel down show humility and reverence, but those who kneel down in protest disarm their opponents, do not accept the provocation and play the ball back.  Colin Kaepernick was not the first to use kneeling as a form of protest for Black rights. Martin Luther King Jr. and his fellow activist Ralph Abernathy knelt in protest during a civil rights demonstration in Selma, Alabama, on February 1, 1965. The protest was directed against the arrest of around 250 black people in Dallas who had demonstrated for their right to vote.

The killing of unarmed George Floyd by brutal police violence in 2020 triggered strong reactions and protests not only in the USA. Despite and during the COVID-19 pandemic, hundreds of thousands of people took to the streets in countless cities across all continents to protest systemic racism and police brutality. The pandemic has shown us how fragile our social systems and values truly are—especially for those who suffer the most under global capitalist exploitation. Our societies are deeply divided, not just in the U.S., and these divisions create fertile ground for increasingly authoritarian structures that threaten fundamental rights. 

VERSION05 takes up some of these topics and debates. Yvan Sagnet discusses the conditions of agricultural workers in southern Italy, his activism against the exploitative strategies of global food corporations, and his role as Black Jesus in Milo Rau’s film The New Gospel. Anna Witt presents her project Talk to Me! Basic Rights, in which she conducted conversations with 50 Chemnitz residents about their personal experiences with fundamental rights.  We also provide insight into Triple-Chaser, a project by Forensic Architecture that investigates the connections between the arms industry and the international art market. On the center page we present a photographic work by the young Iranian artist Anahita Asadifar. In a collaborative work with Kris Lemsalu and Kyp Malone, Thomas Brandstätter writes about the custom, the pope, the saints, the hagiographers, the head of state and the soldiers. In an interview, Martin Brandlmayr shares insights into his musical work and numerous collaborations.  Bolivian activist María Galindo discusses the anarcho-feminist movement Mujeres Creando and its relationship to art. We showcase the work of Barbara Kapusta and her exploration of how breaking away from rigid thought patterns can transform society. Bernhard Cella elaborates on the concept behind the Salon for Art Books.