One of the most memorable parts of the sweeping “Human Rights, Human Wrongs” exhibit that opened this week at Ryerson Image Centre is a series of photographs from the Congo in 1960, the year Belgium gave up its former colony, and independence was ushered in with a series of events that was far from comforting.
These crisp, beautiful images, by the great German photojournalist Robert Lebeck, take us into the heart of darkness when European colonialism collided with Africa’s journey toward dignity, equality and self-determination.
They are a reminder of how photographic images can bring the drama of history to life in a way that words can’t match.
But beyond that, many images that London-based guest curator Mark Sealy has chosen from Ryerson’s vast Black Star collection will help visitors connect the dots between certain much-hyped advances in the United States and the gruesome plight of millions in Africa and Asia.
“There’s a wonderful story around the American Civil Rights movement, but it’s rarely seen in the context of the rest of the world,” says Sealy, who sees the world from a European perspective, as someone who grew up in Newcastle, the son of a black working-class man from Barbados and a white British mother.
It bothers him that history is usually seen as a series of single events, rather than as a mosaic of interconnected events.
Sealy hesitated when Doina Popescu, the Ryerson Image Centre’s enterprising director, visited him at Autograph ABP (of which he is director) and suggested he put together an exhibit about the Civil Rights movement with images drawn from the Black Star collection.
After a summer-long residency in Toronto examining the Black Star archival treasures, Sealy and Popescu agreed on creating a wider context.
The result is a panoramic look at what happened in the arena of human rights around the world in the second half of the 20th century, beginning with the end of the Second World War, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948, and the subsequent struggle to end racism and colonialism, which in many cases has not had a happy ending.
Sealy’s goal: look at the issue through the prism of Cold War politics of the period.
Take, for example, the events in Bangladesh circa 1971, when more than 600,000 people were killed in less than a year in a conflict that brought the world close to nuclear conflict. It was all part of the nightmare catastrophe of partition and ethnic cleansing that occurred in the aftermath of what had seemed like a positive breakthrough, when India gained independence from Britain in 1947.
In these circumstances, a person’s religion and ethnic identity can be fatal, and human rights count for nothing.
“I am talking about a continuing process of violence,” says Sealy. “These issues have not changed.”
The upshot: those lofty declarations from the United Nations have not delivered what was promised.
Which takes us back to the Congo in 1960. Sealy is thrilled that Lebeck’s photos became available late in the planning of exhibit. That’s one reason why they aren’t included in the otherwise comprehensive and revealing book that has been published as a companion to the show. Another reason is that Lebeck’s photos are not part of the Black Star collection from which the rest of the exhibit is drawn.
It was a thrill for Popescu when Lebeck, impressed by her missionary zeal, offered to donate the Congo photos to Ryerson.
Here is what happened that day, according to Sealy:
“The Belgian king turned up to hand off the territory, and as he rides through the crowd in a cavalcade, a rebel comes up and snatches his sword.”
That was the first of several key moments that day, captured by Lebeck’s camera. The rebel is then captured and thrown into jail but later released.
Another big moment came when Patrice Lumumba, the first elected prime minister of the new independent country delivered a shocking speech, rejecting the Belgian king’s speech and instead reminding the crowd of how much violence had occurred under Belgian rule.
That speech was like a death warrant. A few months later Lumumba was arrested, imprisoned and executed by firing squad. His body was dissolved in acid.
According to Sealy, the grisly tale of Lumumba’s fate stands as a kind of metaphor about what happened to colonial voices that dared to speak out in that period of history, even as their oppressors were being forced to give up their empires.
In the Africa of 1960, post-colonial wrongs clearly trumped rhetoric about human rights.
Human Rights, Human Wrongs is at the Ryerson Image Centre, 33 Gould St., until April 14. Admission is free.