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304 pages, Paperback
First published April 12, 2016
The soldiers marched past Stalin across the square - and then kept marching stright back to the front, back to blood and death. I first saw Red Square in the summer, but in truth it makes the deepest impression in winter, when it more clearly evokes that moment. When empty of people and covered in snow, it most vividly evokes the wide-open spaces of the Russian east: the steppe, the taiga, the tundra, and the conquering horsemen who have roamed across them.
We often see the greatest hits of change. We see Martin Luther King, Jr., lead a march on Washington; we see Nelson Mandela freeing South Africa. But we don't see the process of change. We don't experience the agony of King's family over the years, and we don't spend twenty-seven years in prison with Mandela. In the square, I saw the quiet, determined, and relentless fight for change.
Change doesn't happen overnight. One speech doesn't change things. Other movements have taken a very long time. But a certain consciousness is what has been found and what will grow. The events of the square will be a reference point. They will be the lost-and-found bag. Ahmed found his camera and, like many others of his generation, found his voice in that square. That moment is not lost. The square formed, and will continue to form, the consciousness of an entire generation.
But Rabin Square is a sterile zone. It does not say anything; nor does it tell anything. It neither consoles the heart nor lifts the spirit. It is barren. So the protest rallies that gather here now and again are also, in some sense, sterile. The protesters here are not standing across from the White House or 10 Downing Street or the prime minister's residence in Jerusalem. They are not marching on the Pentagon, or surrounding Westminster, or massing at the Knesset. All they are doing is gathering at the food of the terrace of an unimportant municipal building demarcated by nondescript residential blocks. All they are doing is standing on the beige granulite tiles and waiting for the helicopters from the evening news to document them and estimate their number and report that Rabin Square is again overflowing with protesters. even when they come out in anguish, their anguish has no address. They do not expect to be heard. This is why they gather in a banal plaza, surrounded by banal buildings, and shout out banal exclamations against a banal political adversary whose hold on power is tenuous at best.
City squares seem to be waiting for a crowd to fill them up - to assume a collective character and confer a public identity on private individuals. They possess a theatrical quality, as if the square is a stage and everyone in it a performer, even if the assigned role is that of an audience member. ... Squares are places where people go to shape an idea of society itself. For this reason, they are contested spaces.