Preparing the Creative Workshop in Bologna curated by Teatro dell’Argine
Here in Athens, we do things this way.
Our government favours the many instead of the few: that is why it is called a democracy.
[...] Our laws provide equal justice for all
[...] and poverty is no obstacle
[...] We are free to live exactly as we please
[...] Our city is open to the world, and we never expel a foreigner.
Here in Athens, we do things this way.
— Pericles, Speech to the Athenians on Democracy, 431 BCE
The Bologna — more precisely San Lazzaro — session of The Legend of Europa will draw inspiration from the part of the myth that unfolds in and around the city of Athens.
King Aegeus has made a terrible pact with another king, Minos: to avoid the destruction of his city, he agrees to send every year seven young men and seven young women to Crete, to be sacrificed to the monster held in the Labyrinth of Knossos — the Minotaur.
This creature, called Asterion, is none other than the son of Pasiphaë, wife of Minos, and the white bull sent from the sea by divine will. He, too, is young.
Aegeus also has a young son, Theseus, strong and bold. The father sometimes loves him, sometimes fears him — because the people might come to love Theseus more than they love their king. After witnessing the annual sacrifice of his peers, Theseus one day boards the ship with the next group of victims with the intention of killing the Minotaur. He succeeds, thanks to the help of young Ariadne, daughter of Minos and sister of Asterion.
It is an arcane tale of power and sacrifice, of destructive wars born of personal vendettas, of blameless victims offered up in the name of the status quo. All of them are young — including the Minotaur.
And yet, in our imagination and our memory, the name Athens does not first evoke this chain of innocent blood. On the contrary, we remember the Greek city from our schoolbooks as the birthplace of democracy — a model of advanced governance to emulate. “Here in Athens, we do things this way,” says Pericles proudly in his most famous speech, reminding us that Athenians are free to be whoever they wish, that their laws are equal for all, that rulers serve for merit and not for personal gain, that poverty is no barrier to high office, and that foreigners are never pushed back.
This is what we remember from our studies. And we tend to forget that in democratic Athens, slaves (yes, they existed), women, minors, and foreigners — even resident ones — were all excluded from citizenship and political rights.
This Athens with its double image made us think of our contemporary Europe, the European Union.
Our Europe, with its member states, is a magnificent democracy, founded on high ideals and the defence of fundamental rights, enshrined in documents that are moving in their openness and foresight: the Treaty on European Union, the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union, the European Convention on Human Rights, and many, many more. And its motto is “United in Diversity.”
And yet, our Europe’s member states are the same ones making deals with Turkey, Libya, Tunisia, Albania to turn away from its borders — borders which are themselves unclear — people seeking new horizons, a better life, protection, a safe place to live. They are the same states that turn a blind eye to the methods used by border countries (Bosnia, Croatia, Serbia, among others) to detain, push back, abuse, blackmail, or torture these people. They are the same states that ignore the deaths and disappearances of men, women, and children to the east and south of their borders.
Our Europe’s member states are the same ones that neglect the climate emergency at every level and have failed to organize a coordinated and effective response to safeguard the planet, the environment, and biodiversity. Apparently, the “diversity” in the motto does not extend to all human beings — let alone all living beings.
Our Europe’s member states are the same ones currently grappling with wars they had (almost) managed to keep outside their borders for decades, and with a growing imbalance of power and threats from forces once considered allies — so much so that Europe is now responding with a general rearmament plan.
Our Europe’s member states are subject to a techno-capitalist system that is increasingly revealing its cracks in the form of growing inequality, the crushing of the vulnerable, and a way of life, work, and production that is unsustainable on many fronts.
Europe and the Youth
And yet, in this Europe there has been — and still is — a force that brings all of this to our attention: the force of grassroots activism, often led by young people.
Young people who, like Theseus, say no to the sacrifice of innocents, no to inequality between people and nations, no to war, no to the exploitation of the planet and its inhabitants.
Young people who take to the streets and take action, even though they feel the crushing weight of older generations, suffer from being ignored, and see their perspectives dismissed — as if peace, the environment, equality, and rights were children’s games, and not the responsibility of every citizen.
As if the Future were only a matter for adults.
We met over fifty such young people recently, with our partners from Border Crossings, as part of our Erasmus+ project Performing Possibility (see the article from July 8, 2025): young people who live in Ireland and Italy, and so in Europe, but who come from all over the world.
For them, Europe means the possibility “to make my voice heard, not to be invisible as a woman, to become a doctor so I can help others, especially women” (Oh Mani, Afghanistan); the opportunity to improve communication between us, because “to communicate is to love,” and “together we learn more and better” (Diallo, Senegal); and also the hope that Europe might “invest more in cultural and artistic projects like this” (Dominique, Cameroon) and “less in militarization” (Pádraig, Ireland).
Some of them live in rural areas with major transportation challenges, yet they are permitted to travel anywhere in the EU. Others have only just arrived in a land different from their own, still waiting to find out if they’ll be allowed to stay.
Some are engaged in complex advocacy projects. Others have learned up to four languages — and are now learning a fifth — on their long journey towards what will one day become home.
No prejudice and no stereotype fit them — neither those about ‘foreigners’ nor those about ‘young people’: they are cultured, generous, open-minded, intelligent, value-driven, selfless individuals, eager to engage and do their part. And to act together.
photo by Davide Saccà
The Theatre Work on Europa and Athens
Since the beginning, what struck us most, at Teatro dell’Argine, about this part of the myth set in Athens, was this sacrifice, this slaughter of young people.
In 2021, we dedicated a production to this theme, Il Labirinto (The Labyrinth), which told true stories of teenagers in distress or danger, slipping through the cracks of our cities, often going unnoticed.
But in this work on the Europa myth, the situation is more complex: these young people are being sent to die in the name of preserving the status quo — a truce between powers that is not a true or just peace, but merely the calm necessary to keep doing business undisturbed.
The State is worth more than fourteen of its citizens — whatever that means.
So, who is the monster?
Is it the Minotaur — who was born without choosing to be, the ultimate “other”, neither man nor animal, but something in between, living imprisoned and alien even to his own parents, unable to even understand his own hunger?
Or is it the ones who built the Labyrinth to imprison him, and then fed him with his innocent peers?
What are today’s Labyrinths in our Europe?
Who is locked inside them, made invisible?
They are labyrinths of injustice, inequality, denied rights, bureaucracies, and technocracies that trap the most vulnerable — labyrinths in which we lose our very humanity, even as we call ourselves democratic.
by Micaela Casalboni (Teatro dell'Argine)
Comments
Post a Comment