Founded in 1954, the Internationale Kurzfilmtage Oberhausen is a major short film festival, which has been screening movies over seven decades. With a particular slant towards abstract and experimental shorts, it has become known as an open venue for artistic expression and public discussion. But those who attended its 70th edition in April 2024 will have found an air of tension hanging over the event – following a rapid breakdown of relations between the festival’s director, and many other members of the German and international film community.
Two weeks after the events of October 7th in Israel, the official Facebook page of the festival posted a call to join a rally in Berlin to show solidarity with Israel, organised by the Central Council of Jews in Germany, churches, major political parties, and other institutions. The post was published with an additional text signed by festival director Lars Henrik Gass – who has headed the Oberhausen festival since 1997 – which made reference to Neukölln, a district in Berlin home to a large Palestinian community. The reference was criticised as legitimising a conflation of all vigils and protests against Israel’s actions in the Gaza strip after October 7th, with antisemitism.
While Gass issued a further statement that his intention “was not to stigmatise the Palestinian population in general, neither in Germany nor abroad”, the rift deepened when the festival went on to issue a strict code of conduct, ahead of its 2024 event. For some of the festival’s long-time collaborators, it was the last straw. Tobias Hering, who has procured programmes for Oberhausen over the last six years, was supposed to be presenting a series of short films from Soviet Russia with one of the festival’s former leaders – who decided that the code of conduct was a line she would not cross.
He explains, “Karola Gramann was the head of the festival in the second half of the 1980s. She still works as a curator and is a friend of mine, and since I’ve been dealing with the history of the festival in my programmes here over the past six years, she would have been the obvious guest to talk to – as the films were first selected under her directorship. The second half of the 1980s were a period of transition at the festival, so it would have been really interesting to get to discuss this with her – but after the code of conduct was issued, she decided to cancel her visit.”
Expanding on what about the statement led such an integral figure of the festival to cut ties with it, he notes that the code is “considered very restrictive on what can be said”, and is “very ideologically charged because it applies a very restrictive and broad definition of what antisemitism is”. This includes the feeling that “you aren’t allowed to criticise Israel’s politics without being understood to deny the legitimacy of that state.”
That would place anyone voicing such an opinion during Oberhausen’s events at risk of being deemed ‘antisemitic’. Ticket sales were meanwhile tied to an obligation to accept this code of conduct. According to Hering, this is important to add since “it made things worse for those who decided to come nevertheless and were then reminded of their tough decision every time they booked a ticket.”
“I have heard from a number of colleagues that they feel this is a personal insult,” Hering continues, “as it basically says the festival may use its powers to dismiss people or even press criminal charges. They will not tolerate anything that could be considered a ‘disturbance’ of screenings or panels, or could be interpreted in this very broad definition as antisemitism. So, suddenly this has become seen as a very risky place to come if you feel you would like to express solidarity with Palestine, the Palestinian cause, or even just to voice feelings that the continued actions of the Israeli military in Gaza are not legitimate.”
Months in the making
Speaking on how relations with parts of the filmmaking community had degraded since October, Hering suggests this suppression of free speech has been made “the core of the conflict” since Gass’ initial statement.
Hering says, “He called for action against antisemitism, which I support and agree with, but he did it in a way that was considered an insult to anyone who would dare support the rights of Palestinian people. He also targeted his comments at an already stigmatised neighbourhood in Berlin, which has been criticised as a discriminatory, racist way to frame his argument.
“In response to that, there was an anonymous petition, with over 1,500 signatures from across the international film community. Nobody knew who initiated it, but it was clear who had signed it, and without explicitly mentioning a boycott, the letter was considered by the festival management to be a call for one.
“Instead of taking a step back and trying to de-escalate the situation, the festival took the letter as an ‘attack’, and I felt it went into counter-attack. Much of what has happened since then, particularly in the media, who were very happy to give plenty of space to the festival’s line, did not help to foster an idea this would remain an open space for different views to be expressed, or for the maximum number of people to feel welcome. And let’s not forget that all the while the larger political situation was escalating to a terrible extent, too, so that being pressured to take sides for or against the director of a German film festival has become an increasingly unbearable imposition. That’s been happening since October, but the code of conduct put that into legal language.”
Getting into that “legal language”, International Short Film Festival Oberhausen published a Code of Conduct in March 2024, which first asserted “the festival is a place of free thought and respectful discussion, from which no one should feel excluded because of their political views or cultural background.” However, it then added that it had formally adopted “the IHRA definition” of antisemitism – a definition which has been widely criticised among the international community as heavily censoring criticism of the actions of the state of Israel. The statement noted this would include “attitudes, groups or organizations that call for a boycott of Israel and/or question Israel’s right to exist”. And the festival noted it reserved the right to “take civil action and to press criminal charges” against anyone falling foul of those rules. There was no explicit mention of the human rights of Palestinians, or a call for a ceasefire.
While the festival still maintains it is a non-discriminatory space, in this case, it seems to many who have stayed away that only limited terrain is now marked out for ‘free speech’ – with criminal proceedings seeming a clear red line they were unwilling to sanction. At the same time, critics of the IHRA definition often point out that it can lead to antisemitism – because it can lead to criticism of the state of Israel to be conflated with criticism of the Jewish community as a whole, but also because this has empowered repressive policing of the Jewish community. In Germany – and across the world – a regular feature of demonstrations for a ceasefire in Gaza has been the arrest and prosecution of Jewish activists speaking out against the actions of Israel.
“I understand and respect the festival’s concerns about antisemitism in Germany and to protect its staff and audience against abusive demeanour and verbal violence. But in order to evaluate how this was done, I suggest to read how other festivals have done it,” Hering argues. “For example, the European Media Art Festival in Osnabrück which happened a week before Oberhausen, and the Hamburg Short Film Festival which will take place in June. Both agreed they needed a code of conduct in the very tense and polarised cultural-political situation we have in Germany at the moment. But theirs are good examples of writing a code of conduct, giving people the feeling that ‘this festival will do the maximum possible to create a fair and democratic and pluralist space.”
The Kurzfilm Festival Hamburg issued a statement noting it “respect[s] the decision of all those who have opted to suspend their co-operation with German institutions in solidarity with the Palestinian people”. The festival adopted the Jerusalem Declaration on Antisemitism – seen by campaigners as an improvement on the IHRA definition of antisemitism and allowing for a greater degree of free speech and advocacy for the rights of Palestinians, and allowing for criticism of the actions of the state of Israel and its military. Kurzfilm Festival Hamburg added that it joined “the unconditional demand for a ceasefire in Gaza and the release of all hostages.”
Earlier, the European Media Art Festival in Osnabrück had also published a Code of Ethics ahead of its 2024 festival, noting a “respect for the decision of all those who, in solidarity with the Palestinian people, decide to suspend their cooperation with German institutions in order to emphasise their demand to protect artistic freedom”, while also noting a desire to offer a space “that reflects and protects this plurality of opinions and forms of expression”. It also called for both a focused “fight against antisemitism and structural racism”, and “for a ceasefire in Gaza”.
As it is, Hering seems to feel that Oberhausen’s own code was a missed opportunity by comparison. And further to that, it may be at loggerheads with what the festival should be – and this has led him to make a difficult decision of his own.
Hering elaborates, “I think this festival, and any event where such diverse films and people come together, is where different people should speak up and express their opinions. I felt I had to come to see for myself whether and how this has changed over the last couple of months, and I wanted to witness what conversations I could still have here, and see how it was for those who came. That would calibrate my own decision, which I was already in the process of making before, about whether I would stay. It feels more consolidated for me now. I am very grateful for the festival, and also to Lars personally, for inviting me six years ago to examine their archives and collaborate on programmes. There had been disagreements and some personal disappointments before, but with this recent public escalation I just can’t see a way forward as things are.”
Something to say
Since 2018, Hering has headed the ‘re-selected’ section of Oberhausen’s programme. That has seen him pick out films from the festival’s huge archive, which have something to say for the present moment. With regards to this year’s event, Hering chose five films from the Soviet Union, including The Journey to the Son, a kitchen-sink drama in which war-propaganda seeps into a family home which is at war with itself; The Homecoming, in which soldiers returning from the war in Afghanistan talk about the psychological alienation after being used as pawns in a conflict they had no purchase in; and Keep Happy!, where a sports team camp inflicts brutal violence on someone blowing the whistle on sexual abuse.
“Watching these films in the theatre this time, I feel more strongly that this programme had a charge for today’s political moment,” Hering says. “Of course, the films address the concern and anxiety we all feel about Russia’s war in Ukraine. There is also something about the human aspect, of people being sent to die in a war, for a cause that is not theirs, and being victimised on both sides.
“In The Journey to the Son, for example, there is the radio playing Cold War news, and then you see another Cold War playing out in the family home. I feel this has repercussions not just when we think of the war in Ukraine, but also of the war in Israel. If we take that comparison a little further, we see the proxy-conflicts and the loss of empathy which we notice in our everyday lives.”
Illustrating that point ahead of the screening, Hering spoke emotionally about one interaction he had with a fellow curator. It may further underscore why he feels now is the right time to step away.
Further detailing the encounter, he adds, “I had a colleague, friend, of mine, who I spoke to last night briefly, and I realised we were on completely different ground with what is unfolding in Gaza. He said something which was so shocking to me, unempathetic with the Palestinian people dying there, that I was saddened and ashamed that we have come this far. We’re at a point where someone has said this thing, and I’m not even able to come up with an argument, because we’re at a point where words fail us. So, this is for me almost a war-ideology, ‘us or them, only one can survive’, an idea that your continuation depends on someone else basically disappearing from the surface of the Earth. That’s terrible. I feel that the films have addressed that directly, and the third also addresses the kind of courage it takes in the face of crass injustice and violence to speak up. To negotiate with your own values and concerns.”
The future
There are no signs of an end to the violence in Gaza. Even as talk of a ceasefire grows, Israel’s military continues its campaign in the city of Rafah, with civilian casualties mounting every day. The international community has also increased talk of a ceasefire, but has essentially washed its hands of helping enforce provisional UN statements that “there are reasonable grounds to believe that the threshold indicating the commission of the crime of genocide… has been met”, or that Israel and the international community should work to “prevent genocide” there.
One thing no institution can expect, then, is that this will not be an issue they have to contend with for years to come. In that case, film festivals have an unavoidable duty to provide a safe space, and a space in which free and fair expression around Gaza can take place.
With regards to Oberhausen’s behaviour on this front, Hering says he was “hoping for the last six months, it would find a way to have a public image again that was less monopolised by the personal stance of its director.” In previous years, the festival had “always been a heterogeneous space where people who programme, curate, speak on the panels, could express different opinions” but this year he feels “that has been curtailed” – and may have “limited who could or would speak on panels, but also the people who have attended”.
Even so, Hering still notes, “I have enjoyed working with the staff in Oberhausen and I wish the festival well”. And he retains a hope that this might not be the end of what Oberhausen was; that there could still be some other way ahead. “After all, if the festival was appreciated as an open and diverse platform until recently, we should acknowledge that this had been provided under the same directorship.”
Hering concludes, “Some people have decided to stay away this year. I can name a lot of people who I would have liked to see here who are not, and I respect their decision. But I hope that the festival will find a plausible and credible way to go forward, and to reinvite the people who this year felt dis-invited.”
When asked for comment, the festival stated, “Through intensive internal preparation, we sensitised ourselves to the threshold between free expression of opinion, which was permitted and desired, and disruption, which could have led to a great deal of stress for the team, guests and audience. We were prepared for various levels of de-escalation, which did not have to be used in a single case. It was a new challenge for all of us. We had a lot to learn and discuss. In light of the friendly and trouble-free process, we feel reassured that the work was worthwhile.”
It is unclear whether the reason the code did not “have to be used in a single case” was because the threat of legal action meant people stayed away. At the same time, the festival backed its choice of antisemitism definition, for this festival at least.
“All definitions of antisemitism are an attempt to do justice to the current reality as far as possible. We have chosen the IHRA definition because it does not call into question Israel’s right to exist. The Berlinale was continuously disrupted; we wanted to avoid that for the protection of everyone here.”
However, the festival also notes there is potential room for change in the future. It adds that “Moreover, we do not believe that a code of conduct in this form has to be permanent; it was a carefully considered reaction to the situation.”
Exactly how dramatically the code of conduct might evolve in the next year remains to be seen. In the meantime, Hering’s hopes of people feeling “re-invited” might seem remote – and the festival’s reputation as a platform open to free expression and discussion may continue to ebb away amid the wider community.