War Inna Babylon, The Community's Struggle for Justice, Truths & Rights

August was quite a challenging month for me. It wasn’t just that we were still trapped inside a never-ending pandemic that made my mind bubble over. Everything seemed to collide, and I wasn’t sure how things would pan out. To take my mind off things and get some perspective, I decided to get immersed in some art to take me out of myself and into someone else's world for a while. 

I was straight onto Google and looking for art exhibitions in London. After scrolling through a few, I came across War Inna Babylon at the ICA (Institute Of Contemporary Arts). The title alone was enough to make me book a ticket. After contemplating whether I should be doing something less intense rather than putting myself into more black pain, I decided to go further.   

As so many companies have been so performative regarding anti-black racism, I went onto the ICA website to see whether this was a performative solidarity event. It wasn’t. They are the only company so far that I have seen that has committed further to its values of diversity and inclusion. They commissioned an independent organisation, TMG, in 2020 to assess their working practices and culture regarding anti-black racism and racial equity to see how they could further live up to their values. Ok, ICA, going beyond the black square. I liked this step enough to go onto their careers page and apply for a role.

I woke up tired on the day of my visit to the ICA but was glad that I had taken the week off work. The tubes were empty, and due to Covid and the lack of tourists and office workers, the streets were so quiet. There were more armed police around than anyone else.  

It was quite ironic going to a well-renowned art institute whose latest exhibition was about police brutality and institutional racism and then being surrounded by the police and the British institution. I wondered if this was intentional, as this was the perfect location.  

Before going in, I had a little walk around the outskirts of Buckingham Palace and the National Police Memorial, which is just opposite the ICA. You may not notice if you are not paying attention as you walk by the building. It just stands quite unassuming in the space it is in. Once inside, it has a nice and simple feel.

War Inna Babylon is curated by Tottenham Rights, A London-based racial advocacy and community organisation and independent curators Kamara Scott and Rianna Jade Parker. Tottenham is the focal point of the exhibition, and rightfully so. It has for decades been steeped in racial tension, police brutality, A lack of resources, opportunities, and the deaths of many black people at the hands of the police. The work that Tottenham Rights have been doing for years to change not only the landscape of Tottenham and the UK makes this exhibition and the work that has gone into it essential. One that should be seen.

The first thing I take in before anything else is that I`m the only black person there at the time I go in. All the other visitors are white. It's a good thing that other non-black people have come to see the exhibition. Once something enters your consciousness, it's hard to remove it. 

It was a weekday, and in the morning, so most people would have been at work at that time, and I`m sure that many black Londoners, especially those from Tottenham, would have made their way into central London to attend and represent if they were aware that it was on.

The first thing you see when entering the exhibition space is a definition of Babylon on the wall. Growing up, I thought the term was just for the police as it was common to hear. It was also the name of a movie we often watched. It was only when I got older I realised the full extent of its meaning.

The words beam off the wall so brightly. A reminder that the system still exists. Nearby is a map showing the deaths of black people who died in police custody. It’s strange seeing people reduced to just a number. I wondered whether any of the police officers that worked so close by had been to visit the exhibition.

The 'In Routes' section captures images of people who migrated from the Caribbean to the UK. One of the photographs is of a young girl staring back out with suitcases around her. She looks so unhappy. I wonder if she was aware of the psychological and physical warfare that could lie ahead.  

I think of my Grandmother, Mum, The Windrush Generation, and everyone who was "invited" to rebuild the UK who were from the former slave colonies in the Caribbean. The land of Milk & Honey. That's how I happened to be born in the UK. My grandmother was only a  few generations post the legal end of slavery, leaving all she knew to go directly into the heart of "Babylon". My mum and aunties followed a few years later to create "better lives" for themselves and their children that were not yet conceived. I wondered if everyone who came still felt like this were a choice they would have made.

I move around the rest of the exhibition slowly. Deprivation and Sus areas are next. This captures the education, economic and legal challenges faced by black communities. This laid out how everything has been stacked against us and the stop and search laws implemented to remind us that they held power to determine how we moved through the world daily.  

I didn't realise that I didn't take any photos apart from the one below during this section. I must have been lost in my thoughts. An old skool TV in this section showed footage and interviews during the 90s about what was happening and how people felt. By old skool, I mean non-flat screen, which I grew up with.  

I spent the most time in the Frontlines section. 1981 was a deep year. A year of resistance, protests, and collective uprisings. This was the year I was born. A year of brutality and civil unrest, and one that will always be synonymous with racial tension and the treatment of black people boiling over into a resistance that had not been seen in the UK like this before. I came along in the middle of it all. A chaotic London in battle and on fire and still stuck in a war for our humanity. 

Again I didn't take many photos in this section. This wasn't intentional. The curators achieved what I`m sure they wanted to do. They took you on a journey of the black experience with real visuals and voices from that time. I wasn't thinking of anything other than where I was at the moment and where the exhibition transported me to. There were quite a few artefacts and important materials also on display, and I took my time going around every section to ensure I didn’t miss a thing. 

I like that this exhibition is a combination of video installations, photography, paintings, archives, and 3D technology, with everything documented in real-time. It's reminiscent of our times now. 

13 Dead Nothing Said!

I can't remember how old I was when I heard about the New Cross Fire. It happened in early 1981, so I wasn't here yet. It may have been different for other black families, but for my own, we didn't have a sit-down talk when we got to a certain age to talk about race and racism. Everything is already happening around you; you are just picking it up, taking it in and encountering it as you go along in your early years.  

There wasn't any protection from it, and your mind is too young to process things that shouldn't make sense to adults or children. And you are a child unable to articulate yet or have the words to ask questions or say how you are feeling inside or how this affects you. I'm sure at the age these children who were at the time of the party and those that tragically died were already hyper-aware of the world that had been shaped for them outside of their homes. Even their homes weren't safe enough to protect them. 

The word Justice is crossed out in the title of the exhibition. It's rare for us to get it, even for 13 dead children. I recently watched the documentary Uprising by Steve McQueen about the fire. It's hard to watch, as it should be especially hearing from the survivors. I was also more than curious to understand how this affected my mother, who was 20 years old and pregnant in East London and would be giving birth to her first daughter a few months later.

This painting by artist Kimathi Donkor of Cynthia Jarret and her last moments is hard to look at but important to see. The first picture I took was blurred. I noticed as soon as I took the photo. Evil spirits surrounded her, and it felt like looking at the painting. I thought it was important to include both.

From Brixton to Tottenham to New Cross. From Cherry Groce, Cynthia Jarret, the Tottenham Three to Broadwater Farm. Everyone had more than had enough of the constant police harassment,  brutality, living conditions, and lack of opportunity to create "a better life." War Inna Babylon captures this time and feeling so well. 

The video installation by Rianna Jade Parker of the protests and civil unrest of the resistance is powerful. It closes with Stafford Scott, co-founder of Tottenham Rights, with a call to continued action. He has been campaigning and tirelessly working to make changes in policing since 1985 and hasn’t stopped. Nor has the system that was created to continue its treatment of Black people.

As you head up the stairs through the Broken Lives section, you have to walk past the grief and trauma left behind but rarely acknowledged, if ever not just for the immediate families and loved ones who have to deal with state-sanctioned death and killings but for what it leaves behind in the hearts and minds of black people knowing how little or if any value is placed on our humanity.

There is stillness in the State Assisted Deaths and The Five Families of Tottenham rooms. Watching and listening to the families of those who were killed in police custody is hard to listen. I like that each family is placed on a separate pillar. You have to walk around the room to the next one and the next and the next. It's like a memorial that gives their lives the importance they didn't get during their death. 

Most people have or will experience the death of a loved one, primarily by natural causes or accidental deaths. We all know how hard that is. But everyone doesn’t and shouldn’t have to know the additional weight of also carrying the loss of a loved one who was killed this way. And then the struggle of dealing with a lack of justice or accountability. It just sits heavy in the room, unable to go anywhere.  

It continues with a list of names of black people killed in state custody since 1969. To see the names is important. I hate seeing a death toll in numbers. 

It ends with the 2011 Corridor firmly back in Tottenham and the police killing of Mark Duggan that sparked the 2011 protests. Forensic Architecture presents their multi-media installation of his death. The study uses technology (including 3D methodology and virtual reality), police testimonies, and eyewitnesses to reconstruct the events. You can watch it here.  

This advanced reconstruction and evidence challenge the police evidence and account of what happened and the verdict of it being a lawful killing. Still, 10 years on, his family and campaigners are still fighting to have the case reopened. Tottenham again had to deal with another death of a young black man at the hands of the police. 

There is also a London Metropolitan gangs matrix included in this room. An Amnesty International report found this matrix to breach human rights and to be racially discriminatory. Tottenham Rights had already said the same and didn't have to wait for a comprehensive report to take place. The ideology that black people are inherently criminal with terms like ' 'black on black crime" leaves me with little to no hope that the police will ever be able to become part of the solution. 

So much work, detail, and emotion would have gone into the curation of this exhibition.   It covers some of the collective pain and experience of Black Communities in Britain and the state-sanctioned violence and structural racism we have faced brutally and experienced.  

It also shows the continued fight for Justice, Truth, and Human Rights. As hard as the struggle is and can be, the exhibition is also a reminder and reflection on the continued resistance and uprising of a people in a brutal War Inna Babylon.

War Inna Babylon

7th July - 26th September 2021

Institute Of Contemporary Arts

The Mall

London SW1Y 5AH

Curated by Tottenham Rights, Kamara Scott, and Rianna Jade Parker

Exhibition Designer: Abi Wright Design

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