Recenzija albuma 'Featherbrain' Hanne Hukkelberg

Hanne Hukkelberg: Featherbrain (2012, Propeller Recordings)

Jutri se v Cankarjev dom vrača Hanne Hukkelberg, norveška pevka in glasbenica, ki je pred petimi leti prav tam na Drugi godbi predstavljala svoj drugi album Rykestrasse 68. Z njim si je v alter pop in jazzovskih krogih utrdila sloves izjemno nadarjene in izvirne ustvarjalke; sloves, ki jo je spremljal že od prvenca Little Things, izdanega leta 2005. 

Recenzija v celoti.


Prva objava 23. aprila ob 19:00, ponovitev 1. maja ob 00:30 v Tolpi bumov na Radiu Študent.

Dva nova intervjuja / Two new interviews

On March 9th 2012, as part of the Bring In Take Out - Living Archive project, hosted by Red Dawns festival, I was interviewed by Ana Vilenica. The video interview consists of three parts; in the first, I talk about collaborative writing and feminist science fiction, in the second about why we need feminist and queer counterpublics, and in the final part, I talk about the collaboration between Red Dawns festival and Living Archive. The interview was recorded and edited by Ana Čigon.

V zadnji številki revije Tribuna (april 2012), ki se posveča prostoru oziroma teritorijem, lahko preberete intervju, v katerem o festivalu Rdeče zore govorim kot o feministično-queerovski javnosti v nastajanju. Intervju je naslovljen Že odločitev, da boš pristopila zraven, je v danih političnih razmerah politično dejanje (PDF, str. 12-13). Ilustrirala ga je Ana Baraga, ki je poskrbela tudi za celostno podobo letošnjih Rdečih zor.

Knjižni šprint: predstavitev skupinsko napisanega kataloga

(English version below)

V četrtek, 19. aprila ob 19. uri vas vabimo v Galerijo Škuc na Ljudmilin večer ob zaključku razstave Za živ(al)ce v realnem času, ko bomo predstavili tudi katalog razstave, ki je nastal pretekli vikend na knjižnem šprintu z uporabo odprtokodnega spletnega orodja za tisk na zahtevo, booki.cc, in uživali v avdiovizualnem performansu Theremidi Orchestra: Antene ZA vse.

Booktype, skupinsko pisanje kataloga ob razstavi Za živ(al)ce v realnem času
Knjižni šprint
Booktype je brezplačno odprtokodno spletno orodje, ki piscem, organizacijam in skupnostim omogoča skupinsko urejanje, pisanje in produkcijo knjig v formatih za tisk na zahtevo in e-knjig za skoraj vse bralnike. Booktype dopušča skupinsko urednikovanje in pisanje knjig, ki ga je možno enostavno izvoziti v tiskanje na zahtevo ali v bralnike. Booktype rešuje probleme s formatiranjem ali oblikovanjem iste knjige za 5 različnih aplikacij; to orodje ponuja vse, kar potrebujemo pri izdaji digitalnih kopij. Booktype izhaja iz orodja za pisanje priročnikov za odprto programje (FLOSS), pri katerem kot razvijalec sodeluje tudi Luka Frelih (Ljudmila). Beta verzijo tega orodja Booki.cc sta slovenski publiki prvič predstavila njegova avtorja Adam Hyde in Aleksandar Erkalović junija 2011 v Mestni galeriji Ljubljana v okviru razstave Powered by Ljudmila. Ljudmila se je odločila, da oblikuje skupnost, ki bo aktivno uporabljala orodje Booktype in razvijala njegove možnosti rabe, tudi v Ljubljani. Cilj je podpreti založniške projekte neodvisnih založnikov, kakor tudi organizacij, ki se prvotno ne vidijo kot založniki.

Knjižni šprint je družabni dogodek, ki lahko traja od dveh dni do enega tedna. V tem času udeleženci šprinta napišejo, uredijo, lektorirajo, oblikujejo in izdajo spletno ali tiskano verzijo knjige. Na podlagi brezplačne in odprtokodne spletne platforme Booktype se je zbrala skupina piscev, kritikov, umetnikov in udeležencev delavnic, ki so povezani z Ljudmilo in v tridnevni seansi skupinsko izdelala katalog k razstavi. Pri nastajanju kataloga smo sodelovali: Urban Belina, Tina Dolinšek, Ida Hiršenfelder, Tea Hvala, Miha Kelemina, Ivana Naceva, Alenka Pirman, Dare Pejić, Robertina Šebjanič, Blaž Tlaker in Jasmina Založnik.

Spletna verzija kataloga: http://www.booki.cc/za-zivalce-v-realnem-casu/test1/ 


Theremidi Orchestra: Antene ZA vse
Theremidi Orchestra (TO) se uči izdelave naprav, stopa daleč stran od obstoječih vmesnikov in slik, oživlja antene, ki so zastarele v času televizijskih uporabniških paketov. Radijska frekvenca je še vedno tam zunaj in včasih se orkestru posreči ujeti njeno hreščavo sneženje. TO navdušuje razvoj najnovejših naprav, a ne za uporabo v predvidene namene, temveč da bi raziskali njihove potenciale pri proizvajanju brnenja, zavijanja in piskanja. Privlači jih vse kar proizvaja elektromagnetno polje. Naredi-sam teremini so nepredvidljivi in bazični, a kljub temu ponujajo število zvokov s povezovanjem na najbolj nepričakovane antene: od prevodnega črnila do dežnikov, žičnatih račk, prezračevalnikov, cvetlic in odpadnega železa. Antene ZA vse! je družbeni klic za pravice do govora in do tega, da se človeka sliši iz zloščenega žlobudranje hegemonske volilne demokracije. V njem nastopajo individualci, ki se obnašajo aktivno in kolektivno. Theremidi Orchestra sestavljajo udeleženci delavnice TEREMINI in TEREMIDI fizični vmesnik, ki je potekala na LJUDMILI, ljubljanskem laboratoriju za digitalne medije in kulturo v maju 2011, pod mentorstvom Boruta Savskega. Po mnogih negotovih, a navdušenih otroških korakih v piskajoče elektromagnetno polje, se je orkestru pridružil tudi sam mentor. V Galeriji Škuc bodo z doma »spajkanimi« prostimi elektronskimi teremini in zvočnimi ojačevalci razpirali nežnohrupne krajine Tina Dolinšek, Dare Pejić, Dušan Zidar, Borut Savski, Saša Spačal, Ida Hiršenfelder, Robertina Šebjanič, Luka Frelih in Matic Urbanija.

Podrobnosti o razstavi Za živ(al)ce v realnem času najdete v priponki in povezavi: http://www.galerija.skuc-drustvo.si/skuc2.html

Producent in koproducent
Galerija ŠKUC http://www.galerija.skuc-drustvo.si/
LJUDMILA – Ljubljanski laboratorij za digitalne medije in kulturo pri KUD France Prešeren Trnovo

*

You are cordially invited to ŠKUC Gallery on Thursday, April 19 at 7 pm for the closure of Ljudmila’s exhibition Real Time Settings for Ner[d/ve]s. We are going to present the exhibition catalogue, written collaboratively this past weekend during Book Sprint using free software for publishing on demand booki.cc, followed by audiovisual performance by Theremidi Orchestra: Antennas FOR All.


Booktype, collaborative writing of the exhibition catalogue
Book Sprint
Booktype is a free, open source platform that allows collaborative editing and writing for organisations and communities to produce books formatted for print on-demand, e-books and almost any e-reader. Booktype does this by formatting or designing the same book in 5 different applications; everything needed for publishing digital copy is provided by the one tool. Booktype was developed from a system for writing manuals for open programming (FLOSS), on which Luka Frelih (Ljudmila) worked as one of the developers. A beta version of the tool Booki.cc was first presented to a Slovene audience at City Gallery Ljubljana in June 2011 by its creators Adam Hyde and Aleksandar Erkalović during the Powered by Ljudmila exhibition. Ljudmila and its team were intrigued by the possibilities of this open source online software tool that facilitates the production of books through simple and effective publishing techniques, and decided to initiate the Booki community in Ljubljana. The aim of the Booktype project is to open up publishing for independent publishers, and also for organizations that do not primarily see themselves as publishers.

A book sprint is a social event that can last from about two to seven days. In this time, an entire publication is written, edited, proof-read, designed and published in an on-line or printed version. A team of writers, critics, artists, and workshop participants affiliated with Ljudmila got together for a three-day session and produced an exhibition catalogue on the Booktype free and open source web platform.

Theremidi Orchestra: Antennas FOR all
Theremidi Orchestra wants to learn how to make gadgets on their own, to move far away from existing interfaces and images. In a time of television user packages, it brings obsolete antennas back to life. The radio frequency is still out there, and sometimes the orchestra gets lucky and catches a glimpse of its scratchy hum. TO are absolutely fascinated by the development of the newest gadgets, not for their intended purpose, but to explore their potential to produce the humming, glissandos and squeaks of the theremin and electromagnetic pulses. DIY theremins are unpredictable and basic. Nevertheless, they offer a multitude of sounds if they are connected to the most unexpected antennas, from conductive ink to umbrellas, wire ducklings, air tubes, flowers, and scrap metal.

 Details about the exhibition: http://www.galerija.skuc-drustvo.si/skuc2.html

Truly Fantastic: Domestic labour union revolution in the Netherlands

At the end of last year, after additional “belt-tightening”, a new wave of strikes and pickets began. After heated debates and countless smaller actions, after seven rounds of unsuccessful negotiations and mass rallies in all major Dutch cities (called “Angry Marches” and “Marches for Respect”), on February 27th 2012, around 2000 cleaners occupied the University of Utrecht with the support of students. Like many other public institutions, the universities had began to cut spending “at the bottom”.

February this year saw the conclusion of a large two-year project by Casco, the Dutch Office For Art, Design and Theory, called the Grand Domestic Revolution. It included a group art exhibition, artist residences, public interventions and a string of collaborations between artists, theoreticians and activists. It closed with the Futurist Writing School, a week-long workshop in which a dozen attendees tried to join their forces in writing a novel, dedicated to the main issues of the Grand Domestic Revolution: a more equal sharing of domestic and care work, the legal and social recognition of paid domestic labour, architectural innovations for easier communal living, collective urban design, urban gardening, the right to use unmaintained or abandoned private property, the sharing of intellectual property, bartering, and the improvement of relationships on the level of (extended) families, residential communities and neighbourhoods.

Our literary venture was ambitious even by science fiction standards, not to mention the standards of actually existing politics. The curators’ (Binna Choi and Maiko Tanaka) request that the narrative should portray a near future that most of us would live to see (Utrecht in 2032), alleviated my fears since I had been afraid that I wouldn't be able to stand up to the challenge of a more long-term vision. How could I, I wondered during my trip to the Netherlands, when I live from day to day, from hand to mouth? At the same time, the decision to write about a future only twenty years away disappointed me, as I was reminded that my feeling of powerlessness wasn't mine alone.

I thought of Luisa Passerini’s essay “Utopia” and Desire (2002) where she compared the European perception of utopia after the year 1968 with the one that emerged after the year 1989 when the discourse about the “death of utopia” and the “end of history” became quite common . She wrote that the social movements of 1968 did not understand the subjects of history exclusively as subjects of action and knowledge but also as subjects of desire. Activists of both genders could hope for a better future and “demand the impossible”, because they decided that the object of desire counted less than the state of desire. Instead of a politics that would gravitate towards the fulfilment of needs, they advocated a politics that would demand more and more after every activist victory; they would demand something that no one had achieved before. In accordance with the pessimist belief that the future cannot not be different from the past or the present, the neo-conservative ideology of the early 1990s dismissed the utopian political imagination as something impossible or even absurd. Luisa Passerini concluded that in these conditions, utopian thought survived only in the shape of “nostalgia for rebellion [that] looks more to the past than to the future, it is a memory more than a hope; hope is mentioned but remains vague and unexpressed”.

In Utrecht, our writing was based on the exhibits, past public interventions, existing debates and tried and true social experiments, but the collective phrasing of such a wide field nevertheless – and despite the not-so-distant future setting – turned out to be too difficult. We were constantly carried away into fantasy, into scenarios that failed to establish a cognitive distance from the here and now (which is one of the definitions of speculative literature). On the contrary, our writing was based on free association, playing with genre conventions and escapism. So instead of writing about the mechanical glasshouse (the Meal Machine by Doris Denekamp and Arend Groosman, that simplifies the cultivation of vegetables), Experimental Kitchen Pharmacy (for which the artist Wietske Maas collected and processed a number of local medicinal herbs, following the advice of neighbours), housekeeping robots, the collectivization of routine domestic chores ( Kateřine Šedá’s project There's Nothing There), uninvited read-ins in people's living rooms and speaking trumpets (portable megaphones, made from recycled waste), we wrote about post-gender astronauts, cloning, cryogenics, cannibalism, mutations, lab-grown food and a ruling coalition, consisting of seventy-four parties that frolic on picnics while Utrecht slowly sinks into a toxic sea. Domestic revolution? No sight of it.

After two such sessions I began to ask myself who had stolen our utopian imagination. Was it Hollywood and its apocalyptic exploitation of science fiction, was it dishonest gibberish about sustainability or was it conservative politics – the only politics that still dares to call upon the benefit of “future generations”? Or did we take hope away from ourselves when we started thinking only about ourselves and the things that are within our reach? How can we save ourselves from the deterministic understanding of history, how can we resist generalizations and instead, raise a toast to the future perceived as a promise of surprise, as something unpredictable, unique and unrepeatable? How can our stories accommodate actually existing grandpas and grandmas who do not want to be associated with a future, filled with individual endings, but continue to tend to the orchard, the fruits of which they'll never taste?

Since I am used to Slovene ideas about what's possible, the real surprise came the next evening, when Casco was hosting the founder of the labour union of United Migrant Domestic Workers in the Netherlands (UMDW), Coring delos Reyes. By the way, the term “domestic work” includes all chores that are performed in the home of the employer, usually cleaning and washing clothes, babysitting, caring for the sick and elderly, shopping, cooking, small repairs, maintenance work and gardening. The UMDW union uses the English term “domestic work” and the Dutch term “schoonmakers” (“cleaners”, literally “beautifiers”) as synonyms for the above-mentioned feminized, undervalued and underpaid work, which is carried out at home, but also in private companies and public institutions. Both in the Netherlands and in Slovenia, domestic work continues to be largely performed by members of the most vulnerable social groups; by migrants and (older) women.

When Coring delos Reyes moved from the Philippines to the Netherlands in search of employment fifteen years ago she realized that – being an unregistered migrant – she couldn't even open a bank account. Because Dutch households that don't hire help more than three times per week don't have to register the payments with the tax office, she could get work on the black market. Nevertheless she couldn't rent an apartment, because the landlords are obliged to register their tenants. Due to strict laws tenants must provide their landlord with personal identification, the residence permit as well as the number of their bank account.

In 2002 she joined a cooperative which lent money to unregistered migrants with low interest rates. Four years later she founded the UMDW, which took the goal of protecting all migrant domestic workers regardless of their gender or legal status, no matter whether they worked in households, private companies or the public sector, and no matter whether they worked directly for an employer or through an outsourcing agency (a cleaning service). The self-organized and legally unrecognised labour union began collecting money through donations and founded several solidarity funds for deported workers, for emergency assistance (usually to pay for medical assistance to workers without a health insurance), for education and recreation. Because of their status and because they wanted to protect their members’ anonymity, the UMDW wired money to them through registered non-governmental organisations. Later, together with other migrant groups and unions, they started to educate and mobilize non-unionised workers and offer them a support system that included micro-credits as well as legal help.

Khadija Tahiri-Hyati, the president of the Schoonmakers labour union, who works as a cleaning lady in one of Amsterdam's hospitals stressed that even the cleaners with a contract and residence permit don't have it easy in the Netherlands: “The work that used to be done by eight people must now be done by four!” At the end of the 1990s, during the privatisation of the service sector, a fight broke out between the biggest agencies (Hago, Facilicom, Asito and ISS – the latter employs around 1300 workers in Slovenia as well, 90% of whom are women) in which the employees obviously took most of the beating. The lowering of hourly rates, raising norms (shorter times for cleaning larger areas) and cutting compensations for medical leave hit the cleaners in private companies first. With the economic crisis and austerity measures (freezing salaries in the public sector) the next in line were the employees who did maintenance work for governmental companies, public institutions and local municipalities.

In the summer of 2009, Schoonmakers and UMDW started a campaign to improve working conditions, raise the hourly rates and achieve paid sick leave.(1) At first, the Schoon genoeg! (“Quite enough!”, literally “Clean enough!”) campaign was met with resentment in the public sector because of the frozen salaries. The large unions, known for their careful negotiation tactics, also remained silent. In April 2010,(2) when the cleaners of the Dutch Railways decided to go on strike, a story began that, as mentioned, sounds rather fantastic from the Slovene perspective. The strike began with the physical occupation of the railway station in Utrecht, the busiest station in the country. Around 1500 contract workers came to work but instead of cleaning they sat in the station in the style of the Occupy! movement and unfolded their picket signs.(3) Three days later, the passengers had to try really hard to avoid the piles of trash and the question of what was going on. After six(4) days the leaders of the cleaning company and the railways agreed to negotiations during which the unions, speaking on behalf of around 150 000 workers, demanded – and after nine weeks achieved – a new collective contract. The contract included a 2.75% raise of the hourly rate, paid sick leave from the first day of absence from work, a paid course in Dutch for foreigners and the chance to attend vocational training. The cleaning company lost a legal battle and had to rehire the employees fired during the strike. Furthermore, the responsibility to sustain the newly gained working conditions is now equally shared between the outsourcing agency and the railway company, which practically means that neither can alleviate the higher costs of work by raising norms and putting a larger burden on the cleaners.

The strike was exceptional even by Dutch standards. Firstly, because the majority of the strikers consisted of the most vulnerable groups of workers; of migrants and women. Secondly, because the strike was advocating the rights of precarious workers, hired by outsourcing agencies, and because it was organised by two grassroots unions that received the support of legally and publicly recognised unions only after the negotiations. Schoonmakers and UMDW connected with Abvakabo/FNV and(5) FNV Bondgenoten, the latter of which represents around 470 000 workers from the service, industrial, metallurgic, agricultural, technical and transport sectors and is thus the largest Dutch union. Its speciality (and from the Slovene point of view another fantastic move) is that it represents temporary contract workers alongside permanent employees. Last but not least, the strike was exceptional because it succeeded. Historians say that such a strong movement had not been seen in the Netherlands since the year 1933, when dock workers decided they had had enough. This claim is supported by the fact that the achieved rights gave momentum to other workers: soon after the railway cleaners, the sanitation workers of Utrecht and Amsterdam went on strike for an “indefinite period of time”. Even though they work for local municipalities (the “frozen” public sector), the strike ended in ten days with a 1.5% raise for around 200 000 workers.

At the end of last year, after additional “belt-tightening”, a new wave of strikes and pickets began. After heated debates and countless smaller actions, after seven rounds of unsuccessful negotiations and mass rallies in all major Dutch cities (called “Angry Marches” and “Marches for Respect”), on February 27th 2012, around 2000 cleaners occupied the University of Utrecht with the support of students. Like many other public institutions, the universities had began to cut spending “at the bottom”. On March 5th, the occupation of the De Vrije Universiteit in Amsterdam followed. The workers are demanding a new collective contract which includes the right to employment for indefinite time after nine months of contract work, the inclusion of domestic workers who work in the private sphere (at home) in the collective contract, the raise of the hourly wage rate for 50 cents, paid sick leave, the right to learn Dutch during work, paid travel expenses, a paid vacation, a 2 € bonus for working in several buildings in one day (or twice a day in the same building), an annual bonus of 300 € for full-time workers (and a proportionally smaller amount for part-time workers), penalties for employers who don't pay on time or pay the wrong amount, mandatory consultation between the employer and the union before the former decides to fire someone, better retirement conditions as well as the employers monthly contribution of 4 € per worker to the labour union.

The situation in Slovenia is not comparable to that in the Netherlands. In Slovenia, the majority of domestic workers, care workers and cleaners who work in the private sphere are paid in cash on hand, and new employers are sought out in informal ways. Despite this circumstance, these workers and contract workers who are “rented out” to companies and public institutions by cleaning agencies, could identify with the demands of UMDW and Schoonmakers easily, given that they work in similarly precarious conditions. After all, the structure of the employees is very similar as well: according to Zdenka Šadl’s study (2006), the majority of domestic workers consists of jobless women, poorly paid employed women, working class women, migrants and younger retired women. In other words: women living on the edge of poverty.

How to organize paid domestic workers in Slovenia when even unpaid chores performed by housewives or unpaid reproductive labour has yet to enter the realm of public debates and general concerns? At this point, the obstacles seem insurmountable. First of all: how to mobilize exhausted and overworked workers for activism? Second: how to connect workers who work for different wages, under different conditions and under different contracts for a wide range of employers and agencies? Third: how can a rebellion be initiated by the most vulnerable groups of workers, who live with the awareness of being disposable on the labour market and the knowledge that the employers have a ready-made answer to all forms of protest: “If you don't like it here you are free to leave”. Finally, the revolution, started by unionised migrant domestic workers in the Netherlands sounds truly fantastic to us in Slovenia because even our union leaders claim – let me quote Lidija Jerkič, the (female!) president of SKEI (union of workers in the metallurgic and electroindustrial sector) – that “women should blame themselves for the position they're in”.

It seems the time is ripe for a politics that will demand something nobody in Slovenia has achieved yet; time for utopian political imagination and “the impossible” struggle.  

First published here. 

The corrections and comments below were provided by Rebeca Pabon (FNV Bondgenoten).

(1) In the strikes of 2010 and 2012, respect was the most widely discussed demand by the workers and the media.

(2) The central train station in Utrecht was a strategic place for the occupation because all trains in The Netherlands pass through it. During the first cleaners' action in 2007, the main target was Schipol Airport (Amsterdam) because many workers there are politically active (and unionized) and because the cleaning agencies consider Schipol to be a very important client.

(3) In 2010, domestic workers participated in the action but did not stay at the station overnight. Compared to the 2010 strike, when both the domestic workers and the unions were hesitant about joining the action due to the risks it implied, many more domestic workers were mobilized in 2012. They participated in all actions during the 2012 strike which lasted for 105 days, including the occupations of universities in Amsterdam and Utrecht. You can read more about the reasons for occupying the universities in the article Struggles intersect at uni occupation in Amsterdam written by Donya Alinejad. 
(4) Negotiations started on the 5th day of the strike. 
(5) Schoonmakers and domestic workers connected with FNV Bondgenoten only. Abvakabo/FNV was not involved. 

Resnično fantastično: sindikalna gospodinjska revolucija na Nizozemskem

Konec lanskega leta, po dodatnem »zategovanju pasov«, se je začel nov val protestov in stavk. Po burnih debatah in neštetih manjših akcijah, sedmih krogih neuspešnih pogajanj in množičnih zborovanjih v vseh večjih nizozemskih mestih (»Jezni pohodi« in »Pohodi za spoštovanje«), se je 27. februarja letos okrog 2000 čistilk in čistilcev ob podpori študentov odločilo za zasedbo Univerze v Utrechtu, ki je tako kot druge javne ustanove začela varčevati »pri dnu«.

Nizozemski Urad za umetnost, oblikovanje in teorijo Casco je februarja letos zaključil obsežen dveletni projekt Vélika gospodinjska revolucija (Grand Domestic Revolution), ki je vključeval skupinsko razstavo, umetniške rezidence, javne intervencije in vrsto sodelovanj med umetniki, teoretiki in aktivisti. Zaključil se je s Šolo futurističnega pisanja, enotedensko delavnico, na kateri je dvanajst udeleženk in udeležencev s skupnimi močmi skušalo napisati roman, posvečen glavnim razsežnostim Vélike gospodinjske revolucije: enakopravnejši delitvi neplačanega domačega, družinskega in gospodinjskega dela, pravnemu in družbenemu priznanju plačanega gospodinjskega dela, arhitekturnim inovacijam za lažje sobivanje v stanovanjskih skupnostih, skupnostnemu načrtovanju in oblikovanju prostora, urbanemu vrtnarstvu, pravici do uporabe nevzdrževanih in zapuščenih nepremičnin v zasebni lasti, deljenju intelektualne lastnine, blagovni menjavi in izboljševanju medosebnih odnosov na ravni (razširjenih) družin, stanovanjskih skupnosti in sosesk.

Literarni podvig, ki je ambiciozen že po znanstvenofantastičnih merilih, kaj šele po realno-političnih, smo sodelujoči na željo kustosinj umestili v Utrecht leta 2032. Dejstvo, da sta se Binna Choi in Maiko Tanaka odločili za obravnavo bližnje prihodnosti, ki jo bo večina od nas doživela, je ublažilo moj strah; bala sem se namreč, da zadani vizionarski nalogi ne bom kos. Kako le, sem razmišljala na poti na Nizozemsko, ko pa živim iz dneva v dan, iz rok v usta? Istočasno me je odločitev za pisanje o prihodnosti, oddaljeni komaj dvajset let, razočarala in opomnila, da moj občutek nemoči ni zgolj moj. Spomnila me je na ugotovitve Luise Passerini, zgodovinarke, ki je v eseju "Utopija" in želja (2008) primerjala evropsko razumevanje utopije po letu 1968 s tistim, ki se je pojavilo po letu 1989, ko se je začelo govoriti o "smrti utopije" in "koncu zgodovine". Družbena gibanja leta 1968, je zapisala, subjektov zgodovine niso obravnavala izključno kot subjektov akcije in vednosti, temveč tudi kot subjekte želje. Aktivisti in aktivistke so lahko upali v boljšo prihodnost in zahtevali "nemogoče", ker so sklenili, da objekt želje šteje manj od stanja želje. Namesto politike, ki bi težila k zadovoljevanju potreb, so zagovarjali politiko, ki je po vsaki aktivistični zmagi zahtevala več; tisto, česar še nihče ni dosegel. V zgodnjih devetdesetih je neokonservativna ideologija v skladu s pesimističnim prepričanjem, da prihodnost ne more biti drugačna od preteklosti ali sedanjosti, utopično politično domišljijo zavrgla kot nekaj nemogočega, celo absurdnega. V teh razmerah, je sklenila Luisa Passerini, je utopična misel preživela samo v obliki "nostalgije po vstaji (...), ki zre bolj v preteklost kakor v prihodnost in je spomin, ne toliko upanje: upanje je nakazano, a ostaja nejasno in neizraženo".

V Utrechtu smo se pri pisanju oprli na razstavljene predmete, pretekle javne intervencije, obstoječe razprave in preizkušene socialne eksperimente, a se je kolektivna ubeseditev tako širokega polja kljub temu - in kljub bližnjemu dogajalnemu času - izkazala za preveč zahtevno. Nehote nas je odnašalo v fantazijske scenarije, ki niso temeljili na vzpostavljanju miselne distance do tukajšnje in zdajšnje resničnosti, od koder bi bilo o njej mogoče razmišljati drugače (kar je ena od definicij spekulativne literature), temveč na prostem asociiranju, poigravanju z žanrskimi pravili in eskapizmu. Tako smo namesto o mehaničnem rastlinjaku (Meal Machine umetnikov Doris Denekamp in Arenda Groosmana, ki poenostavi pridelavo zelenjave), Eksperimentalni domači lekarni (za katero je umetnica Wietske Maas na priporočilo sosedov zbrala in predelala vrsto zdravilnih rastlin, ki rastejo v bližnji okolici), gospodinjskih robotih, kolektivizaciji rutinskih domačih opravil (projekt There's Nothing There umetnice Kateřine Šedá), bralnih intervencijah na domu (pri sosedih - in z njimi - v organizaciji kolektiva Read-In) ter Govoreči trobenti (prenosnem megafonu, narejenem iz odpadnih materialov) raje pisali o postspolnih astronavtih, kloniranju, kriogeniki, kanibalizmu, mutacijah, laboratorijskem gojenju hrane in štiriinsedemdesetčlanski vladajoči koaliciji, ki se zabava na piknikih, medtem ko se Utrecht zaradi klimatskih sprememb počasi ugreza v toksično morje. O gospodinjski revoluciji ne duha ne sluha.

Po dveh takšnih seansah pisanja sem se začela spraševati, kdo nam je ukradel utopično domišljijo. Holivudska apokaliptična eksploatacija znanstvene fantastike, neiskrene govorance o trajnostnem razvoju ali konservativna politika, ki se še edina drzne sklicevati na dobro "bodočih rodov"? Ali pa smo si upanje vzeli kar sami, v trenutku ko smo začeli misliti samo nase, in na tisto, kar je na dosegu naših rok? Kako naj se rešimo determinističnega pojmovanja zgodovine, kako naj se upremo posploševanju in namesto tega nazdravimo prihodnosti kot obetu presenečenja, kot nečemu nepredvidljivemu, enkratnemu in neponovljivemu? Kako naj v naših zgodbah napravimo prostor za resnične dedke in babice, ki nočejo imeti opravka s prihodnostjo, posejano z individualnimi konci, in zato še naprej vzgajajo sadno drevje, čigar sadov ne bodo nikoli užili?

Za slovenske predstave o tem, kaj je mogoče, me je resnično fantastično presenečenje pričakalo naslednji večer, ko je Casco gostil ustanoviteljico sindikata Združenih migrantskih gospodinjskih delavk in delavcev na Nizozemskem (United Migrant Domestic Workers in the Netherlands ali UMDW), gospo Coring delos Reyes. Mimogrede, izraz "gospodinjsko delo" na prvi pogled ni najbolj primeren prevod izraza "domestic work". Pri nas stroka ločuje med domačim, družinskim in gospodinjskim delo, ki je običajno plačano, če ga opravlja najeta delavka (redkeje delavec), in neplačano, če ga opravljajo družinske članice ali sorodnice. Omenjene kategorije zajemajo vsa opravila, ki potekajo na domu (plačnika), najpogosteje čiščenje in pranje perila, varovanje otrok, starejših in obolelih, nakupovanje, kuhanje, mala popravila in vzdrževalna dela ter vrtnarjenje. V sindikatu UMDW se angleški izraz "domestic work" in nizozemski izraz "schoonmakers" ("čistilci", dobesedno pa "tisti, ki lepšajo") uporabljata kot sopomenki za našteta feminizirana, podcenjena in podplačana dela, ki potekajo na domu, pa tudi v podjetjih in javnih ustanovah. Ker jih še vedno po večini opravljajo migranti in (starejše) ženske, ki spadajo v najranljivejše družbene skupine, je asociacija na nevidnost, ki jo vsebuje izraz "gospodinjsko delo", povsem na mestu.

Coring delos Reyes se je pred petnajstimi leti v iskanju zaposlitve preselila iz Filipinov na Nizozemsko, kjer je ugotovila, da kot nedokumentirana migrantka ne more odpreti niti bančnega računa. Ker gospodinjstvom, ki najamejo delovno silo največ trikrat tedensko, izplačil ni treba prijaviti davčni upravi, se je lahko preživljala z delom na črno. A še vedno ni mogla najeti stanovanja, saj so stanodajalci zaradi stroge zakonodaje prisiljeni prijaviti svoje najemnike. Slednji morajo stanodajalcu poleg osebnega dokumenta in dovoljenja za bivanje predložiti tudi številko svojega bančnega računa. Leta 2002 se je pridružila kooperativi, ki je neprijavljenim migrantom posojala denar z nizko obrestno mero. Čez štiri leta je ustanovila sindikat UMDW, ki si je zadal, da bo ščitil vse migrantske gospodinjske delavke in delavce ne glede na njihov pravni status, ne glede na to, ali delajo v gospodinjstvih, podjetjih ali v javnem sektorju, in ne glede na to, ali delajo neposredno za naročnika ali preko agencije za delo (čistilnega servisa). Samoorganizirani in uradno nepriznani sindikat je z donacijami in solidarnostnimi akcijami začel zbirati denar za pomoč deportiranim delavkam in delavcem, za nujne primere (večinoma za plačilo zdravstvene oskrbe delavcem brez zdravstvenega zavarovanja) in za izobraževanje ter rekreacijo. Zaradi svojega statusa in zagotavljanja anonimnosti svojih članov je UMDW slednjim nakazoval denar prek registriranih nevladnih organizacij. Kasneje je začel sodelovati z drugimi migrantskimi skupinami in sindikati, začel je izobraževati in mobilizirati pred tem nepovezane delavce in jim nuditi podporni sistem, ki je poleg mikrokreditov vključeval tudi pravno pomoč.

Predsednica sindikata Schoonmakers Khadija Tahiri-Hyati, ki dela kot čistilka v eni od amsterdamskih bolnišnic, je poudarila, da na Nizozemskem tudi pogodbenim čistilcem z dovoljenjem za bivanje ali državljanstvom ni lahko: "Delo, ki ga je nekoč opravilo osem ljudi, morajo danes opraviti štirje!". Konec devetdesetih let, ko se je začela privatizacija storitvenega sektorja, se je med največjimi agencijami (Hago, Facilicom, Asito in ISS - slednja v Sloveniji zaposluje okrog 1300 delavcev, od tega 90% žensk) vnel boj za naročnike, v katerem so seveda nastradali delavci. Nižanje urnih postavk, višanje norm (krajši čas za čiščenje vse večjih površin) in ukinjanje nadomestil za bolniški dopust je najprej doletelo čistilke in čistilce v zasebnih podjetjih. Z ekonomsko krizo in varčevalnimi ukrepi (zamrznitev plač v javnem sektorju) so na vrsto prišli delavci, ki so vzdrževali državna podjetja, javne institucije in mestne ulice.

Poleti leta 2009 sta sindikata Schoonmakers in UMDW sprožila kampanjo za izboljšanje delovnih pogojev, dvig urnih postavk in priznanje nadomestila za bolniški dopust.(1) Kampanja Schoon genoeg! (Čisto dovolj! ali Dovolj čisto!) je med zaposlenimi v javnem sektorju zaradi zamrznitve plač sprva naletela na negodovanje. Veliki sindikati, znani po svoji previdni pogajalski politiki, so molčali. Ko so se aprila 2010(2) čistilci in čistilke Nizozemskih železnic odločili za stavko, se je začela odvijati zgodba, ki, kot že rečeno, s slovenske perspektive zveni naravnost fantastično. Stavka se je začela s fizično zasedbo železniške postaje v Utrechtu, najbolj prometne postaje v državi. Okrog 1500 delavcev je prišlo v službo, a namesto da bi začeli čistiti, so v slogu gibanja Occupy! zasedli postajo in razvili svoje transparente.(3) Po treh dneh so se potniki morali že pošteno potruditi, da so se izognili vse večjim kupom smeti in vprašanju, kaj se dogaja. Po šestih(4) dneh sta vodstvi čistilnega servisa in železnic pristali na pogajanja, na katerih sta sindikata v imenu sektorja, ki obsega okrog 150 000 pogodbenih delavcev, zahtevala - in si po devetih tednih tudi izborila - novo kolektivno pogodbo. Pogodba je vključevala 2.75 % povišanje urne postavke, plačan bolniški dopust od prvega dne odsotnosti z dela, dostop do tečajev nizozemščine za tujce in možnost poklicnega usposabljanja. Čistilni servis je moral zaradi izgubljene tožbe ponovno najeti delavce, odpuščene med stavko, z železnicami pa je po novem enako odgovoren za ohranjanje izborjenih delovnih pogojev, kar v praksi pomeni, da zvišanih stroškov dela ne more lajšati z višanjem norm in dodatnim obremenjevanjem čistilk.

Stavka je bila izjemna tudi za nizozemske razmere. Najprej zato, ker so glavnino stavkajočih predstavljale najbolj ranljive skupine delavcev; migranti in ženske. Nadalje zato, ker gre za pogodbene delavce, ki jih najemajo agencije za "zunanje izvajanje dejavnosti" ali "izločanje produkcije" (outsourcing), in zato, ker sta stavko spodbudila samoorganizirana sindikata, ki sta podporo priznanih sindikatov dobila šele po pogajanjih. Povezala sta se s Abvakabo/FNV in(5) FNV Bondgenoten, pri čemer slednji zastopa okrog 470 000 delavk in delavcev iz storitvenega, industrijskega, metalurškega, kmetijskega, tehničnega in transportnega sektorja ter kot tak predstavlja največji nizozemski sindikat. Njegova posebnost (in s slovenske perspektive ponovno fantastična poteza) je, da poleg redno zaposlenih zastopa tudi pogodbene delavce. Nenazadnje je bila stavka izjemna zato, ker je uspela. Zgodovinarji pravijo, da tako močnega gibanja na Nizozemskem niso videli vse od leta 1933, ko je prekipelo pristaniškim delavcem. K tej trditvi je pripomoglo dejstvo, da so izborjene pravice dale upanje in zagon drugim delavcem: za železniškimi čistilci so se za stavko "za nedoločen čas" odločili smetarji iz Utrechta in Amsterdama. Čeprav delajo za mestne oblasti, torej za javni sektor, se je stavka po desetih dneh končala z 1.5% povišico za približno 200 000 smetarjev.

Konec lanskega leta, po dodatnem "zategovanju pasov", se je začel nov val protestov in stavk. Po burnih debatah in neštetih manjših akcijah, sedmih krogih neuspešnih pogajanj in množičnih zborovanjih v vseh večjih nizozemskih mestih ("Jezni pohodi" in "Pohodi za spoštovanje"), se je 27. februarja letos okrog 2000 čistilk in čistilcev ob podpori študentov odločilo za zasedbo Univerze v Utrechtu, ki je tako kot druge javne ustanove začela varčevati "pri dnu". Petega marca je sledila zasedba amsterdamske De Vrije Universiteit. Delavci zahtevajo novo kolektivno pogodbo, ki vključuje pravico do zaposlitve za nedoločen čas po devetih mesecih pogodbenega dela, vključitev delavcev, ki delajo v zasebni sferi (na domu), v kolektivno pogodbo, dvig urne postavke za 50 centov, pravico do nadomestila za bolniški dopust, pravico do učenja Nizozemščine med delovnim časom, plačilo potnih stroškov, plačan dopust, 2 € dodatka za delo v več objektih v enem dnevu (ali dvakrat dnevno v istem objektu), letno izplačilo nagrade v višini 300 € za zaposlene za polni delovni čas (in proporcionalno manjši znesek za tiste, ki delajo za polovičnega), kazni za plačnike, ki zamujajo s plačilom ali nakažejo napačen znesek, obvezno posvetovanje delodajalca s sindikatom, preden se prvi odloči za odpuščanje, poleg ugodnejših pogojev za upokojitev pa zahtevajo tudi, da delodajalec za vsakega delavca sindikatu nakaže mesečni prispevek v višini 4 €.

Razmere v Sloveniji niso primerljive z Nizozemskimi, saj pri nas večina plačanih gospodinj in čistilk, ki delajo v zasebni sferi, plačilo prejema "na roko", pri čemer nove delodajalce pridobivajo po neformalnih poteh. Kljub temu bi se skupaj s pogodbenimi delavkami, ki jih podjetjem in javnim ustanovam "oddajajo" čistilni servisi, lahko poistovetile z zahtevami sindikatov UMDW in Schoonmakers, saj delajo v podobno prekernih razmerah. Nenazadnje je podobna tudi struktura ponudnic dela: v Sloveniji po študiji Zdenka Šadl (2006) prevladujejo brezposelne ženske, slabo plačane zaposlene, ženske iz delavskega razreda, priseljenke in mlajše upokojenke. Drugače rečeno: ženske, ki živijo na robu revščine.

Razmišljanje o tem, kako organizirati plačane gospodinjske delavke - o neplačanih gospodinjah oziroma reproduktivnih delavkah se pri nas tako ali tako sploh ne govori - se v Sloveniji ustavi pri ovirah, ki se zdijo nepremostljive. Prvič: kako naj se organizirajo in mobilizirajo delavke, ki zaradi preobremenjenosti in izčrpanosti nimajo časa za aktivizem? Drugič: kako naj se povežejo čistilke in gospodinje, ki za različno plačilo, pod različnimi pogoji in za različne pogodbe delajo za kopico posameznikov in agencij? In tretjič: kako naj se uprejo najbolj ranljive skupine delavk in delavcev, ki živijo z zavestjo o lastni zamenljivosti na trgu dela, in védenjem, da imajo delodajalci za vsak protest že pripravljen odgovor "Če vam tukaj kaj ni prav, lahko še danes odidete". Nenazadnje pa nizozemska sindikalna gospodinjska revolucija v Sloveniji zveni resnično fantastično tudi zato, ker lahko celo iz ust sindikalnih vodij - za primer naj navedem izjavo predsednice sindikata kovinske in elektroindustrije (SKEI) Lidije Jerkič - slišimo, da "smo si ženske za svoj položaj same krive".

Zdi se, da je skrajni čas za politiko, ki bo zahtevala tisto, česar v Sloveniji ni dosegel še nihče. Čas za utopično politično domišljijo in "nemogoči" boj.


Prvič objavljeno na portalu Življenje na dotik.


Spodnje popravke in komentarje je dodala Rebeca Pabon (FNV Bondgenoten).

(1) Leta 2010 in letos je bila najpomembnejša in medijsko najodmevnejša zahteva stavkajočih delavcev zahteva po spoštovanju.

(2)  Glavna železniška postaja v Utrechtu je obveljala za najbolj strateško mesto za zasedbo zato, ker vsi nizozemski vlaki peljejo skoznjo. Med prvo akcijo čistilcev leta 2007 je to vlogo igralo letališče Schipol v bližini Amsterdama, predvsem zato, ker so bili tamkajšnji delavci aktivni in že organizirani v sindikate, in zato, ker je (kar zadeva čistilne servise) Schipol ena od pomembnejših strank.

(3) Leta 2010 so čistilci in čistilke sodelovali v akciji, vendar niso prenočevali na železniški postaji. Tako čistilci kot sindikati so leta 2010 oklevali, ali naj se stavki zaradi visokega tveganja sploh pridružijo, zato je bila udeležba zares množična šele letos. Čistilci so med letošnjo stavko, ki je trajala 105 dni, sodelovali pri vseh akcijah, tudi pri zasedbi univerz v Utrechtu in Amsterdamu. Več o razlogih za zasedbo univerzitetnih poslopij lahko preberete v tem članku (v angleščini).
(4) Pogajanja so se začela po petih, ne po šestih dneh. 
(5) Schoonmakers in gospodinjske delavke ter delavci so se povezali samo s sindikatom FNV Bondgenoten. S sindikatom Abvakabo/FNV niso sodelovali.

Oddaja Sektor Ž: Razlogi za feministične proteste

Razlogov za proteste te dni res ne manjka: komentiramo porazen izid referenduma o novem družinskem zakoniku, obravnavamo javno pismo o premajhni zastopanosti predavateljic in feministične umetnosti na ljubljanski Akademiji za likovno umetnost in oblikovanje, z dr. Mojco Ramšak pa bentimo čez domnevo krivde v novi socialni zakonodaji in kontrolne obiske, ki jih na domu samohranilk in samohranilcev izvaja Center za socialno delo.

V prvi napovedi oddaje sem obljubljala tudi poročilo s četrtkove okrogle mize v Klubu Gromka, kjer so poleg nekdanjih in sedanjih varnostnikov koncerna Sintal o nevzdržnih delovnih pogojih, neučinkovitosti obstoječih sindikatov in zelo težkih začetkih samoorganiziranja delavk in delavcev v podizvajalskih podjetjih spregovorile čistilke in sobarice, ki jih je podjetje Lipica Turizem konec leta 2010 »začasno preneslo« k podjetju Aktiva Čiščenje (več v Dnevniku, 14.3.2012).

Ker je današnja oddaja prekratka za tako kompleksno tematiko, več o tem naslednjič. Danes predvajam samo izjavo čistilke, ki delo, ki so ga nekoč opravile štiri čistilke, že leto dni opravlja sama - in je temu primerno fizično in psihično zlomljena: »Nismo več ljudje. (…) Tako ne gre naprej. In upam, da nihče ni tako visoko, da se ga ne da skrajšat. Ali od spodaj ali od zgoraj. Jaz sem že itak skrajšana, ne obstajam več.«


Oddaja v celoti (7. april 2012, Radio Študent).