What we talk about when we talk about the Bazar International

Reading the recent coverage of the International Bazar, I see it being portrayed everywhere as a cheerful celebration of world flavours, a display of solidarity, and an opportunity to showcase the new Grand Duchess. What I find missing, though, is any space for looking at its more problematic aspects, and that makes me wonder about the kind of information that circulates in the place where I live, and how much of this place is actually told, and how much remains untold.

That the Bazar is a multicultural fair drawing tens of thousands of visitors each year is obvious to anyone who lives in Luxembourg. I've only been here a short time myself, and yet I already have my own routine: I stop by the British stand for mince pies, a small reminder of the Christmases I spent between Southampton and Oxford, and then head to the Venezuelan stand for an arepa, my partner's favourite food which also recalls his years in Caracas. You can tell how popular the event is simply by listening to colleagues at work, although, at least in my own bubble, the topic this year seems to have been the long queues more than anything else. The press rightly reported the event’s success, but it largely overlooked the controversial moments that unfolded over the weekend, moments that were probably less known to the public and far more useful for anyone trying to develop a critical understanding of the event and of the society we live in.

Around 2 p.m. on Saturday, 22 November, a group of ten pro-Palestinian activists entered the Bazar legitimately. They passed through security and walked straight to the Israeli stand. They removed their sweaters, revealing T-shirts reading No occupation.

They also held up two Palestinian flags, which the police asked them to put away. Flags are not allowed inside the Bazar, a curious rule for an event that displays flags everywhere - perhaps only the organisers get to decide which flags can be exposed. In any case, the Bazar is a private event and the organisers set the rules. The activists complied with the police request.

The reactions from those present were mixed. Many applauded; someone shouted Free Palestine; others offered a small smile or a thumbs-up. A few reacted with visible irritation: brows drawn tight, clenched jaws, lips pressed together, faces reddening as they shouted something indistinguishable, though judging from their expressions, probably not particularly polite.

The activists remained silent and still. Meanwhile, the staff at the Israeli stand, visibly tense and agitated, filmed the scene and moved restlessly around in search of police officers who could intervene. One woman, apparently well known to many, began a kind of dance on the spot, raising both middle fingers at the activists in a way that several people interpreted as provocative and vulgar.

Finally, someone emerged holding few stickers depicting the red Luxembourgish lion above the words YOU CAN STICK YOUR PALESTINE UP YOUR ASS, with MIR WËLLE BLEIWE WAT MIR SINN ("We want to remain what we are") printed underneath.

The police escorted the activists out while they chanted Free Palestine. Their names were taken, and they were told they could not re-enter the Bazar for the rest of Saturday. As for Sunday? They were told they could try again.

Some newspapers covered the protest, but framed it as an incident at the Israeli stand that required police intervention. Yet surely the role of journalism is to analyse what happened and ask why this protest took place, and what it reveals.

It was expected that the activists would eventually be removed. What is also important for public debate, however, is the reaction from the Israeli stand. How is it possible that vulgar, provocative, overtly political stickers, material that from the outside could easily be associated with far-right rhetoric and seemed designed to intimidate or provoke supporters of Palestinian rights, were present inside the Bazar? I've read statements from the stand's organisers claiming these stickers did not originate there, but no journalist appears to have followed up. Nor has anyone examined the fact that an action which, despite being a provocation, aimed to spark a serious discussion about human rights and international law, was met with crude and derisive behaviour from some members of the stand. These reactions stand in stark contrast to the ideals of peace, unity and humanity that the event claims to embody, and they were captured in photos and videos recorded by witnesses and shared on social media. How did such an incident fail to make it into the news?

And beyond the protest itself, there are other issues visible simply by observing the Israeli stand. This year, for example, the staff were not wearing the Stand with Israel T-shirts seen last year, a detail that passed almost unnoticed, but which suggests the organisers may now recognise the political weight of that slogan. Likewise, maps of Israel that previously depicted Palestinian territories as already annexed were no longer on display. This too is significant. If confirmed, these changes would suggest that the organisers acted appropriately in trying to avoid politically sensitive material at an event that presents itself as neutral. Which makes it all the more surprising that local newspapers did not ask questions or request clarification. A single comment from the organisers would have provided the public with a much clearer understanding of what is happening behind the Bazar’s colourful façade.

Yet the Israeli stand continues to sell Dead Sea cosmetics of uncertain origin. The labels state Made in Israel but do not indicate where the raw materials come from, materials which could originate from Palestinian territories under occupation. This lack of transparency is problematic: consumers have the right to know the true origin of the products they purchase, especially when those products may come from settlements considered illegal. This issue is even more relevant in light of recent statements by the Luxembourgish government reaffirming the illegality of imports from Israeli settlements. The matter was raised with the Bazar’s organisers last year as well, yet nothing appears to have changed. It is of course possible that the provenance has been verified and that the ingredients do indeed come from Israel proper rather than occupied Palestinian territory. But once again, despite the sensitivity of the issue, no local newspaper appears to have investigated the provenance of the products being sold.

The Bazar International is a great event, but it also raises questions and tensions that deserve attention. Pretending that, even if political tensions surface, we should focus only on the joyful and diverse atmosphere doesn't make our world better, it just means we understand less about the place we live in. With more transparent and in-depth analysis, we can all get a clearer sense of what’s going on around us.