A high price to pay for Sydney Festival boycott

Now that the festival is coming to a close, and the Israeli choreographer is forgotten, I can’t help but feel that the Sydney Festival was a missed opportunity to lift the arts out of the doldrums.

I was brought up to be inclusive of people from all races, religions and backgrounds. My parents immigrated to Australia looking for a better life, and we made a home in the land of opportunity. We thrived here, and worked hard to succeed in our careers, even though there were systems in place that sometimes worked against us.

I dedicated my life to my passion, taking a difficult artistic path which continues to have its challenges.

It’s been a tough two years since this pandemic started and the arts sector in Australia has been hit hard. The Morrison government’s $250m rescue package for the arts was in no way proportionate to the sector which employs 200,000 people and contributes $15bn to the annual GDP. When Covid came along, artists in this country felt dispensable. Discarded.

I had been very much looking forward to performing again, and especially at Sydney Festival – Olivia Ansell’s first as director. Preparations for my show were going well, until attention was brought to the Israeli Embassy, who donated some money to the festival. The issue here was a measly $20,000 for a dance show at the Sydney Opera House by Israeli choreographer Ohad Naharin.

Many artists weren’t happy about this funding arrangement. Some artists didn’t want to be associated with Israel, and were urged by the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions movement to not take part in the festival.

Having Israel listed as a star partner featuring on festival posters and promo made it very difficult for any artist with an Arab background to take part.

Others boycotted of their own volition, but a few others felt the pressure or fear of trolling and decided it was best for their careers to pull out. Many of my contemporaries, regardless of their political views, just wanted to perform and to be left out of this debacle which had just come to light.

In the end almost 35 per cent of artists – almost 100 – sacrificed their livelihoods for a cause they may – or may not have – believed in. Before long, the call to boycott was spreading as fast as the new variant.

My excitement turned quickly into confusion, then anxiety.

What did this call to boycott mean for artists like me that spent most of the year preparing my performance, negotiating with the festival, and hiring personnel to help me undertake my craft?

I prayed that the call to boycott would only target the show that the Israeli Embassy funded, maybe disrupt that show, or protest outside the Opera House but, alas, it was a call for the entire festival.

Give up your performance and be in solidarity with the Palestinian people or undertake your craft and support an apartheid. Simple as that. But it’s not quite as simple as that.

I, too, am from an oppressed minority, and know how important it is for such protests, but I was torn as I also didn’t want to take my voice away from such a platform like the Sydney Festival, what about my cause? What would that mean for future engagements with the festival or other venues around the country? Would taking part in the festival put me in support of the Israeli government?

It was an unfair position to be thrust into, especially after the time spent preparing for this event. I don’t blame the activists – that’s what activists do when they believe in something.

As a result, Sydney Festival has reviewed its funding policy for future festivals. That’s definitely a push in the right direction, but who’s in the crossfire?

Covid has turned everything on its head and brought with it an emotional, physical and mental toll.

Not being able to do what you love, show cancellations at the drop of a hat, shows on, then off again on top of travel restrictions have created an unpredictable environment that has made it impossible to plan and undertake work consistently.

I’ve had to work jobs outside my art to make ends meet which is demoralising for a professional who’s spent their life performing, so just when I’m starting to salvage what I’ve lost, I’m asked to boycott my show?

Most artists don’t have the luxury to boycott, they need the income. What do they do? Where do they go? Will giving up that income get them out of the rut this pandemic has put them in? Does Centrelink handout allowances for boycotting?

Had a crowdfunding campaign been set up for artists who sacrificed their incomes, this may have been an easier decision to make. Unfortunately, many were torn between financial limbo and a moral one.

Multiple Aria award-winning singer and director of the National Folk Festival Katie Noonan made the mistake of voicing her opinion, citing her reasons for taking part in the festival, and was absolutely destroyed online.

She responded, and kept on responding, giving fuel to faceless people firing from keyboards, most of whom didn’t know her music, but were happy to jump on her Facebook page daily to tell her how horrible a person she was for refusing to boycott.

No one should receive that type of abuse. She’s a human being who has feelings like everyone else and was caught up in something she should have never been caught up in the first place.

It’s not just about giving up one gig. What non-musicians may not understand, is that musicians like Noonan employ a chain of people; musicians, managers, agents, lighting and sound engineers on top of a family and children they have to provide for.

To ask an artist to boycott, means asking them to give up their income, incomes of the people they employ, and their means of living. It’s not as easy as some outsiders may think.

Art is my only means of support, that’s what pays my bills. I’m not a TV personality nor do I have a spot on the panel of Channel 10’s The Project. I am not a comedian who can do corporate gigs or a rockstar living off royalties. We’re not all on the same artistic playing field when such a call is made.

Now that the festival is coming to a close, and the Israeli choreographer is forgotten, I can’t help but feel that the Sydney Festival was a missed opportunity to lift the arts out of the doldrums, to bring some cultural vibrancy to a decimated town, provide an income to artists who have suffered greatly and to, in turn, help them lift the spirits of people who have been hurting.

I hope we’ve all learned something from this experience and that we can forgive those who made mistakes and grow from this into something bigger and better next year – and I don’t mean the Hillsong Youth Festival.

Let’s reunite, put our differences aside and do the Sydney Festival as it was intended, showcasing the finest Australian talent, bringing people together. Hey, maybe we can keep foreign embassies out of the coffers and encourage local business to get involved? If $20,000 is all it takes for a star partnership, then many businesses will step up to the plate. Just a thought. But until then, let’s return to what is truly important, and properly (dare I say over-)funded, in this country: sport.

How about that those Ashes heroes, huh?

The writer, who was asked to boycott their performances at Sydney Festival, wishes to remain anonymous.