GutterPutter

Regina Spektor’s ‘Us’ pushes against authoritarianism and the appropriation of the past. Decades later, it stands as an ironic mark against Israel…

Genocide, apartheid, and ethnonationalism. These are the hallmarks that define systemic discrimination over the course of history. Just a hundred years ago, Germany blamed its decline after the First World War on its Jewish citizens under the stab-in-the-back myth which sets them up for pogroms that only intensified when the Nazi Party assumed control in 1929 to promote the Aryan “master race”. Upon that happening, widespread antisemitism became law and the new common ground among politicians who are in the party for whatever reason involve persecution and exclusion up to the 1938 Kristallnacht and the subsequent Holocaust. 6 million Jews have died under total Nazi responsibility in concentration camps along with Romani people, the disabled, and queer people all together up to a total of 18 million.

Yet, the violence that stems from the tragedy only begets more violence that would spawn more tragedies. In 1948, with millions of Jewish survivors trying to find a new home away from their trauma, Israel was founded as a modern state with the supposed intent of being a sanctuary from antisemitism that fuelled the preceding genocide. This however comes at the expense of the area’s inhabitants who were gradually forming their own culture and who had just been unshackled from British control – the Palestinians. The region of Palestine was long targeted to gradual piece-by-piece invasion by settlers between the 1920s-mid 1940s who aimed to make Israel above the wellbeing of those who already lived there including even native Jews. 

The emphasis on Israel being a Jewish state is so pivotal to its existence that its founding marked the Nakba. Millions of Palestinians lost their homes and properties to settlers as they separated and ventured to all corners of the world for a new home. Those who remained are targeted for discrimination as they find themselves segregated from better quality of living, opportunities, not even their homeland are spared from further settlement building. All the while, many Jewish families and individuals either settle down in Israel or establish a close relationship with the state as a back-up should they be targeted for discrimination once more. Even those who migrated otherwise from Europe to the United States for example draw themselves into the appeal of Israel’s significance. Zionism, which pledges support for Israel in its intended role as a Jewish state, feels like a new norm for the Jewish institutions, the Jewish communities, and even the Jewish creatives. Among them is the beloved singer-songwriter Regina Spektor.

Spektor never shies away from her Jewish background since her childhood in the Soviet Union. In an interview with the Guardian’s Eva Wiseman, she mentioned how important her past was in shaping her identity as an individual. She can’t escape from the ways her unique experiences made her a target for bullying. In her words on how the rest of her childhood went after moving to the US, “instead of being the Jewish girl in a Russian school I became a Russian girl in a Jewish school.” She neither can assimilate fully into the dominant Russian culture nor can she even find herself merged within an openly Jewish community as she became an American citizen. That leaks into several of her works be it her most well-known album Soviet Kitsch which is named after her Soviet milieu or in her individual songs like ‘Samson’ which reinterprets the titular Judaic military leader’s (called a judge in the Hebrew Bible) romantic relationship with his future betrayer Delilah.

Few mixes her background with social commentary as well as ‘Us’ however. The song, in its original meaning as intended by Spektor, is an attack at the ways the Soviet government sought to wipe out local culture and replace them with artefacts to valourise themselves rather than leave it be. Through its ork-pop composition via the hypnotically classy pianos and the vibrato of the chordophones, it seeks to find beauty in the midst of oppression, of mocking the ways that local history might be commodified or exploited for the interests of the authority. It stands as a defiant song against the erasure of the past and against the intent of authoritarianism in other words.

Yet, this isn’t simply just a lengthy retrospective article about the song. Instead, ‘Us’ finds itself being redefined, fitting of or against Spektor’s views, over the years since its release as a single for Soviet Kitsch. Its implicit critique of Russification ages like fine wine this decade with the intensified invasion in Ukraine where occupied cities and villages are subjected to being forcibly converted to Russian culture and traditions without respect to the local populace. Its pivotal symbolism of the statue as a deliberate misinterpretation of who should be seen as representing national virtues stands in the face of monuments for notorious complicitors in systemic discrimination as part of the Black Lives Matter or #MeToo movements. 

However, ‘Us’ couldn’t have found a better event to draw parallels with than the invasion and genocide in Gaza to Spektor’s detriment. When the Israeli military’s response to the October 7 attacks in 2023 showed itself to be disproportionate to Hamas’, she pushed back against remarks by the likes of Bjork that the Palestinians are being displaced. Last year on the 26th of July, protestors heckled her live performance in condemnation over her support for Israel. Not only did she accuse them of antisemitism, but she even asked them to leave once they retorted back with a comment about how Palestinian children are dying. If she refused to acknowledge the reality of Israel’s intent, she might well be in for a surprise when disillusioned fans saw in her signature song the same rebuke that fits with the Israeli oppression of the Palestinians. At that time, an article by the Lancet had estimated that over 70,000 had died in Gaza since the October 7th attack. Even Godspeed You! Black Emperor alluded to the sheer horrors of the one-sided conflict.

Since 1947, Israeli settlements have gradually replaced native homes in occupied Palestine. Areas from villages like Husan and Nahalin are taken to found Beitar Illit in 1985 which now stands as the most rapidly growing commutes in the region. Others like Barqa are essentially occupied as its original culture was replaced with Israel’s through its remodeling to become part of Gan Yavne. Sculptures pop up all around the country that put Zionist leaders like Theodor Herzl or Alexander Zaid on the pedestal while local monuments of other religious figures like Jesus Christ are vandalised with little repercussions lest it be made publicised. Even its written history is being revised not as a breathing land whose religious significance render it vibrantly multicultural so much as it’s been seen as a lapse between the Kingdom of Israel’s destruction and its founding as a modern state for Jews.

‘Us’ finds itself in constant paradoxical reminders of how its thematic exploration of oppression, public history, and defiance fits with the Palestinian experience. From the very first verse, we are introduced to the narrator and their accomplice as they remark on the newly-made statue that was made as a symbol of national pride (“and put it on the mountain top”). Now, it exists only to the pleasure of tourists as the creators of the statue will “give us a talking to” as an act of patronisation especially with their own history in mind (“‘Cause they’ve got years of experience”). All the while, cities are named and remade after the narrator and their accomplice, implied to be of significance, even as it remains engulfed in controversies over a particular action that happens to be their fault.

Based on the context of Israeli occupation, it’s hard to not see the narrator as being just Palestinian, but more specifically a Palestinian Jew who passed away long before Israel’s founding and whose life is now appropriated to represent the importance of Zionism. The statue is at the mountaintop to affirm the state’s mythic claim that the region of Palestine was “promised” to Zionists after the ancient kingdom’s dissolution over 3000 years ago. Just as well, the naming of cities align with Israeli occupation of depopulated Palestinian villages which either saw Hebrew names being used in place or being subjected to having been built over for settlements. The “years of experience” in the end has a sarcastic tone as if to poke fun of the mentioned “3000 years” claim to revive Israel back as a state even if it bears little semblance to the original kingdom. All there is left are the rhetorics to dehumanise those who do not fit with national expectations.

Of particular significance are the “tourists” who surround the statue only to look at it. The original and literal interpretation from Spektor’s perspective is that they regard the monuments more as just props to take pictures of for gratification instead of reminders of long-lasting conflict. Yet, the symbolism stands all the more poignantly through the lens of Palestine. The tourists, the word itself often implying that they’re not native to the setting they’re seeing, resemble a shade towards most Israelis whose original migration from Europe for safety had morphed more into colonial intent. Care, let alone reverence, of historical Palestinian sites are secondary if they only remind others of the diversity that thrived in the region before the encroachment of Zionism. They have to serve the role of being placeholders between the Kingdom of Israel and the state of Israel to avoid challenging the ethnonationalist entitlement that the region is solely for Jewish people.

The second verse, shorter than the first with its life-or-death focus, remains unscathed in its parallels to Israeli oppression. The scarves that are worn “just like a noose” brings to mind the Keffiyeh, a headdress worn in the Middle East that has especially become a symbolic staple of Palestine. Even in the sanctity of our culture are we not safe from its weaponisation into public marks of humiliation. Meanwhile, the plea for mercy over not wanting “eternal sleep” comes too close to reality in light of the ongoing genocide in Gaza. Especially if we continue to see the narrator as a bygone Palestinian Jew, their perspective saw their uniqueness be erased in favour of homogeneity. They cannot be seen as being both Palestinian and Jewish as it breaches into Israel’s insistent need for purity. And it’s through this revision that is aimed to carry on for generations to come: “And though our parts are slightly used / New ones are slave labor you can keep”.

All the while, the chorus lays bare how history itself is in a constant state of appropriation for propaganda purposes. Just as the Soviet leaders sought to dig into their predecessors to legitimise their totalitarianism, so too do the Zionists in highlighting their loyalty to the Kingdom of Israel even if it means excluding the contribution of other ethnic groups to the region. The “den of thieves” is a Biblical reference to the Book of Matthew’s account of Jesus clearing up a temple that’s been defiled through being used as a marketplace. Its double meaning sits all too apparent with how the upholding of Zionism as an ideology is incompatible with the Holocaust’s warning about unconditional hatred for the oppressed. And it’s in need of justification every time by “rummaging for answers in the pages”. 

The climax comes in the bridge which repeats some lines from the first verse. However, the enunciation intensifies more and more as if to bite the nose off the baroque polish of the instrumentation. “They made a statue of us” goes on repeat as a haunting parallel over how the fallen would be remembered even though the mourners perpetuate their deaths. This time, two new lines are added in “The sculptor’s mama sends regards” and “Our noses have begun to rust”. Once a person passes away, they will never stand for themself over the intent of their works. The same goes for the Palestinian Jews whose voices are muted over fears of their general goals colliding with Israel’s homogenic purpose as a Jewish state. They can only speak through the physical sculptures that are neglected at best to the point of breaking down.

The past is best thought of as a foreign land; it too cannot escape from the invasion of the present. “And it’s contagious” goes the ending as if to remind us of its cyclical nature. Control begets control, not liberty. There’s a famous theory by French literary critic Roland Barthes called “The Death of the Author” which posits that the authorial intent is restrictive to the text that they have made. To allow it to be at its most artistically meaningful, the reader must be free to interpret the work to their will as long as there’s logical even if it’s unintended on the original author’s part. ‘Us’ is a masterpiece in how it condemns the use of the past to erase the voice of those who lived in that time and how it’s been modelled as a tool of political persuasion. It should come as no surprise that sooner or later, it will be regarded as an allegory of the ways Palestinians, including Palestinian Jews, are mistreated in much of recent history by Israel.

Do I hope that Regina Spektor soon realise the errors of her views? Certainly. It’s heartbreaking that a musician both as socially conscious and talented as her have shown serious cognitive dissonance at best in backing Israel to the point of denouncing critics as antisemites despite growing evidences showing sympathy for Palestine. And even if supporting the state is ingrained since childhood, it is inexcusable to avoid discussing the crisis in full by claiming that it’s too “nuanced” to comprehend. ‘Us’ highlights how just because there might be something about historical monuments that allow it to serve a symbolic role over summing up what had happened doesn’t mean we ignore the very lives whose experience had inspired its creation. No one deserves to be treated in any way different because their cultural or racial background is different from the majority.

As a last bit of note, I had donated some of my money to one charity although there are other names that I would like to mention as well although they are mostly based in the United Kingdom. I have donated to Medical Aid for Palestinians which has the goal of funding life-saving equipment and care for those who live under Israeli occupation as they don’t enjoy the right to health and dignity. iF Charity is more specifically focused on looking after victims in Gaza, but they largely try and help in providing food to stave off hunger. Lastly, there are several online publications that aspire to normalise support for Palestine without corporate money to fuel them. For that, I recommend checking Vashti Media and Jewish Currents that are both run by the Jewish left-wing.