Manifesto | Grasping for Utopias in Times of Atrocity

Utopia was, and is now more than ever, a provocative title for a festival dedicated to future visions and visions of the future, to sci-fi and horror films, based out of Tel-Aviv. It was intended as a space for out-of-this-world and out-of-your-mind stories, creative visions, and a place for radical imagination. A celebration of the ludicrous and absurd, the wonderful and surreal, the awful and awesome. This is what we wanted to do and to be, artistically, culturally, politically. As much as Utopia is an elusive concept and science fiction can serve escapist fantasies, they can also be maps of meaning, societal mirrors.

The October 7th massacre shook us to our core, as do the ongoing horrors in Gaza. The monstrous situation we find ourselves protesting against, crying out loud against, weeping quietly against, seems too big, too powerful. Exhausted, we go to sleep, wake up, and the nightmare is still ongoing.

We asked ourselves whether to continue, and if so, how? When human suffering is treated as a cheap commodity, when words like “seaside luxury resort” are used as cover for unspeakable atrocities, a science-fiction and horror film festival seems crass, contemptible, could even be construed as a cruel joke. Should we perhaps suspend or retire the title “Utopia”? The question was painful and difficult, but the answer came quickly – it was lack of imagination that led to where we are, and it is required now more than ever.

To quote our beloved science fiction guiding light, Ursula K. Le Guin, “Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art.” She spoke of the art of words. We humbly extend her words to the art of story, speculation, and dreams of “what if?”.

Holocaust survivor and author Yechiel De-Nur (who wrote under the alias Ka-Tzetnik), referred to Auschwitz as “The Other Planet” in his writings and his testimony at the Eichmann trials. His soul could not process the horrors he witnessed as of this Earth. Later in life he drastically changed his position. There is no “Other Planet”. Part of the hope for a better tomorrow is the horrendous acknowledgement that there are no monsters and no aliens, no evil demons and no superheroes to save us. The monstrosity is us. As is resistance and hope. We are all within the “Zone of Interest”, switching roles between perpetrator, victim, collaborator, oblivious bystanders.

We want to better ourselves, our communities and societies, we aspire for better tomorrows, it follows thus that the exploration of fear, terror, of the most horrible, grotesque and obscene parts of human nature is an imperative and, be-it-absurd, a deeply humanistic endeavor.

We must do more than delve into the pits of darkness and despair and confront our shadows. We need new hopes. As of 2023 our activities include an ongoing “investigative committee on the failure of imagination”; Our society was in some form of suspended animation, having not imagined the worst, and not imagined better futures, or any future. As the un-imaginable is continuously happening, we need a plethora of futures – always in flux and in the plural – an over-abundance of imagination, surreal and absurd, intimate and universal, more and more, more than ever. More ideas. More Horizons. New Frontiers. Radical Utopias.

“Utopia is on the horizon. I move two steps closer; it moves two steps further away. I walk another ten steps and the horizon runs ten steps further away. As much as I may walk, I’ll never reach it. So what’s the point of utopia? The point is this: to keep walking.” ― Eduardo Galeano

We understand creators who do not want to present their art within our grim environment. We live within this environment, we experience it daily, we can and do our very best to improve it. We hope you choose to allow us the honor to share your creativity, imagination, vision, with our audience. We truly need it.