Dieser Beitrag ist nur in englischer Sprache verfügbar.

In their conversation entitled “Beyond Limitations,” artist and activist Tomás Saraceno and human rights lawyer Wolfgang Kaleck discuss possibilities for collaboration between their respective fields. They touch on utopian visions and indigenous perspectives and address systemic environmental and economic challenges, while delving into historical and con-temporary struggles – such as lithium mining in Argentina. Overall, they emphasize how interdisciplinary approaches can be coupled with transformative action to enhance global solidarity.

I. Utopia:
Why spiders should become allies

● W.K.

The idea for this conversation was born when I visited your factory in Berlin-Rummelsburg, Tómas, while you were preparing your exhibition “Web(s) of Life” for the renowned Serpentine Gallery in London in the spring of 2023. Within the studio spaces, a multitude of crafts were involved in manufacturing and designing your famous balloons and fabric banners for activist protests, and beehives fashioned as models for buildings. And of course, I was welcomed by your spider cultures and spiderwebs. Berlin has been your home for quite some time now, as you feel at home within a diverse range of artistic and technical disciplines. Throughout your career as an environmental artist, you have exhibited in galleries and museums across the globe, engaged in theoretical and political discussions, and progressively gravitated towards activist contexts.

Drawing from my own experiences concerning the legal scrutiny of the Argentine military dictatorship, I find your involvement in the indigenous protests against lithium mining in the northern Argentine province of Jujuy to be immensely compelling. Our consumer societies need lithium for lightweight, rechargeable batteries, widely used in electric devices like mobile phones, laptops, electric cars, and aircrafts – the extraction of which, though, is increasingly harmful to the environment and extremely water intensive. As a human rights lawyer, my perspective on legal interventions is specific: we do not only examine the outcomes of legal procedures but also strive to embed our work in a broader context. While legal changes might be important and catalyze social change, they often do not offer solutions to systemic and complex problems. Therefore, we need to establish connections between our work and the initiatives of others. That is why I am eager to comprehend your artistic approach toward interventions, explore the nuances and identify potential avenues for collaboration between our distinct disciplines.

When I contemplate a legal intervention, a crucial question concerns the outcome: what is the potential of our legal actions? Beyond the immediate and practical impacts here and now, what forms of desirable futures are we daring to imagine?

In a conversation on utopia with Ernst Bloch in 1964, Theodor W. Adorno said that humanity’s ability to envision totality as something radically different appears to be lost. He stated that deep down, whether acknowledged or not, human beings recognize that the world could be different. However, the social machinery has become resistant to the imaginative faculty of people, and as a result, whatever seems like a potential for fulfillment presents itself as radically impossible. Is your concept of intervention linked to a similar utopian notion?

● T.S.

I believe that utopias are both wonderful and pressing, yet it might be beneficial to consider utopias in the plural form. This way, the dominance of a single utopia won’t overshadow others. I always struggle to know who might be talking, or to know how we might properly consider different perspectives when framing a question. In the present “Capitalocene,” we are always falling into the trap of speaking from only one position: what might be utopia for some could be a nightmare for others.

For instance, the act of flying is in many ways a utopian notion. But depending on who you ask, you get very different answers. In the indigenous concept of Pachamama, “Mother Earth,” “pacha” entangles space and time in an inseparable manner that goes beyond a quantum physical entanglement. To me, this seems close to the idea of Mother Earth “flying” and journeying around the sun. In the Global North, the utopian vision of flight as air travel is in crisis, as it has become a nightmare for many human populations, animals, plants and ecosystems disrupted by petro-capitalist airplanes.

I agree but also disagree with Adorno’s argument, as the Capitalocene’s political agenda of delusion and governmental inaction, stemming from the apparent impossibility of finding solutions due to others’ profit motives, can unfortunately serve to maintain a state of doomerism. Catastrophism is a tool employed by many to make substantial profits by sustaining the flow of misinformation. Such a concept might be liberating to some people but serves as a pitfall for others. As noted by Rebecca Solnit in The Guardian article “We Can’t Afford to be Climate Doomers”: “If you announce that the outcome has already been decided and we’ve already lost, you strip away the motivation to participate – and of course if we do nothing we settle for the worst outcome. It often seems that people are searching harder for evidence we’re defeated than that we can win.”

More and more, the pivotal question I ask myself when thinking about the recent exhibition you mentioned is: who is the audience? Who benefits in both the short and long term, and how can expectations be calibrated? In relation to “Web(s) of Life,” one of my greatest delights was the discovery that two spiders – who had been inhabiting the space for quite a while before the exhibition – decided to nest within one of the webs. Furthermore, there is now a cocoon, which means that spiderlings might be coming out soon!

It is very beautiful to see how the exhibition transformed into an environment where visitors show considerable respect for non-human entities, valuing both the spiders’ autonomy and their potential cognitions. Spiders have existed on this planet for approximately 300 to 400 million years, while humans have inhabited it for only 210,000 years. Now, biologists tell us that a species is considered well-adapted if it has thrived in an environment for at least four million years. To adopt a more humble stance, let’s say, well, spiders have coexisted with me throughout my time on this planet, implying they should be constantly involved in any discourse. Many living humans seem capable of guiding the way on how to harmoniously inhabit Earth, individuals who haven’t segregated humans from alternative forms of knowledge and who use narratives other than the one of 210,000 years of independent human evolution separated from all other forms of life. One remarkable example is the community of the Somié people in Cameroon, who instead of suffering from arachnophobia, practice spider divination and embrace the spiders inhabiting their area and consider them a direct source of wisdom.

Indigenous peoples represent five percent of the global population, and yet, they are able to maintain and preserve 80 percent of the planet’s biodiversity. When I’m pondering how to approach issues of climate and environmental justice and human rights, I think about the numerous cultures that already coexist in harmony with the rhythms of planet Earth and its diverse biospheres.

Once again, if utopia is related to a singular dream, it might devolve into nightmares for others. How can we dream together and embrace the diversity of dreams? Aren’t we, all of us, flying together aboard Pachamama?

● W.K.

You refer to concepts of indigenous cultures, how differently they think and share living space, how they integrate diverse forms of life. You also mentioned climate justice and environmental justice. For me as a human rights lawyer, a crucial reference point is the internationally established body of rights, especially the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which was proclaimed 75 years ago in 1948. But we also have to bear in mind the idea of human rights as a utopian principle – an ideal of absolute justice that goes far beyond these codified rights and remains an ongoing pursuit. The German scholars Christoph Menke and Francesca Raimondi developed this philosophy of a perpetual revolution of human rights. According to them, the human rights declaration of 1948 marks the moment when “the old order has been dismissed and a new one has been demanded, without having yet been established.” Human rights therefore serve as “a pretext to further arrogate to oneself the right to protest against institutionalized violence, and indeed always to do so in new and different ways.” In this regard, the human rights declaration is not confined but, rather, carries a dual presumption because it establishes principles and rights that are politically not yet realized and attributes this action to an entity that also doesn’t exist yet – the liberated human being.

● T.S.

That reminds me of Radha D’Souza’s What’s Wrong with Rights, when she points out that the term “right” doesn’t exist in many indigenous African or Asian languages and is essentially a European concept. She explains that in ancient Europe, “right” was “used as an ethical concept in philosophy and ethics – about the right way to be as opposed to the wrong way of being in the world. With the rise of capitalism and modernity, rights became a conceptual tool for reorganizing society from a feudal order and creating a new social order based on commodity production.” Often, the very notion of rights or justice that we discuss must be reframed to fully incorporate other perspectives. Radha D’Souza’s example illustrates both what we can learn and what challenges we face when crossing cultural and disciplinary boundaries.

At times, I believe we get too comfortable within the zones of our respective fields, as defined by society. We compartmentalize certain knowledge as art, science or human rights. This often compels us to segregate what an artist, an actor or even a spider does. However, through our discussions, I’ve come to appreciate the significance of forging alliances. We are confronted with urgent issues like climate extinction, environmental injustice, social inequality, and violence. I’m always trying to define myself within the context of any given situation and seek alliances and support. This is why I am a strong advocate for collaboration and collective action, as none of us can effectively address these challenges alone.

● W.K.

Obviously, labels such as “artist” or “human rights lawyer” are frequently employed. These labels imply that we should stay within our own “bubble,” make an impact within our spheres of influence, but leave broader and systemic issues to others – politicians or business people. However, if we truly aim to achieve justice for all human beings, we must overcome this fragmentation. We need to move beyond being experts who function solely within our specific discourse, untroubled if others fail to understand our hermetic language. If we do not manage to transcend our respective bubbles, this becomes a political problem and impedes progress. This marks, in my view, the frontline – we must communicate, connect and form new alliances. That means personal alliances, group coalitions, organizational partnerships, interdisciplinary collaborations and crossing all forms of borders: a global utopia. We have witnessed in recent years the interconnectivity of the world, with the climate crisis and COVID-19, and now must think and act beyond national territories and national borders to challenge the global crisis we face.

III. Aerocene:
Why we do not all breathe the same air

● W.K.

Tómas, certainly, we must change our culture and our habits. But don’t we need to transform the economic and political system in the first place? What you have described has systemic causes: it is the consequence of our industrial model, particularly, but not exclusively, in capitalist economies that prioritize growth, resulting in escalating production of consumables. As long as profit can be derived from this model, it will persist. Changing habits might be one aspect of the struggle, but confronting those who have a genuine economic interest in maintaining the system is equally vital, isn’t it?

● T.S.

Absolutely. When we discuss habits, we are addressing more than personal choices like voting or dietary preferences. It encompasses a broader perspective, including understanding causes and advocating certain values. Systemic causes undoubtedly exist. Concerning lithium, we must consider the enormous amount of water used for mining. The extraction of one ton of lithium requires two million liters of water, and the adoption of this destructive method, rather than more environmentally friendly alternatives, stems from its profitability for multinational corporations. Vital resources such as water are now traded on stock exchange markets as commodities. In the future, this could also happen to the air we breathe – air is already becoming a currency, as the quality of the air is not the same everywhere. We used to think we all breathe the same air, but this is not true.

There are only a few people worldwide that possess an enormous concentration of wealth and power. They have control over the economy and don’t pay their fair share of taxes. If these individuals were to change their habits and distribute their wealth, it would profoundly affect the global population. This is something that can be done immediately. No other technology is required to create a more equitable society.

● W.K.

You’re pointing out one of the most urgent problems in the world: globally manifested inequality, as sociologists and economists describe in reports like the World Inequality Report and the Climate Inequality Report. These documents reflect what you highlight in your artistic work: we don’t all breathe the same air. We don’t all drink the same water. Certain regions are more privileged with drinkable water and breathable air. Conversely, marginalized parts of the population, as exemplified by the COVID-19 crisis, suffer more from pandemics, from climate disasters and other catastrophes. We’ve discussed lithium extraction and the resistance in Jujuy. The region is governed by reactionary and corrupt politicians who, for the past five centuries, have sold out the country and suppressed those standing in their way. This history seems to be repeating itself right now. In southern Argentina and Chile, the Mapuche, one of the few communities to survive the colonial genocide, resisted certain infrastructure projects and were labelled as terrorist organizations by the states of Argentina, and even more so, Chile. Within this repressive environment, Salinas Grandes communities are organizing their resistance against lithium extraction. You joined their struggle with a unique form of performance, which I believe is worth describing.

● T.S.

Since 2017, we have been undertaking actions to support the threatened indigenous communities of the Salinas Grandes and Laguna de Guayatayoc. What you are referring to is “Aerocene Pacha,” a hot air balloon we raised in Jujuy in January 2020.

The concept “Aerocene” means an amalgamation of the atmosphere and the Earth’s surface, an ever-expanding practice for impractical and practical purposes. It represents an environmental and ethical collaboration, an interdisciplinary and unconventional community, an eco-social movement that brings together artists, activists, philosophers, balloonists, dreamers, birds and spiders. The Aerocene community operates across the airspace of 126 cities, 43 countries and six continents.

“Aerocene Pacha” used only air and sunlight to rise, completely free of fossil fuels, batteries, lithium, helium or hydrogen. This marked the most sustainable flight in human history, setting 32 world records, recognized by the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale (FAI), flown by Aerocene pilot Leticia Noemi Marques. But more important than the world records was the accompanying message “water and life are worth more than lithium,” written by the affected communities, rising above the Salinas Grandes. It criticizes the lithium extraction in the region known as the “lithium triangle,” situated between Bolivia, Chile and Argentina, where 58 percent of the world’s lithium is found.

Actually, balloon flight is one of the more unsustainable modes of mobility. When we discuss mobility – because we have envisioned planetary mobility, how the Earth rotates, how planes fly, and how cars move – we must acknowledge the distinct levels of energy dependency. Balloons typically remain airborne through burning gas that heats the air within the envelope. Other modes also use hydrogen or helium, often by-products of fossil fuel extraction. Hydrogen production is very complex and dangerous. In the 1970s, a few thinkers started considering whether suspension in the atmosphere could be achieved solely through harnessing solar energy. There have been a couple of attempts, such as those by Dominique Micheli and other predecessors who have shown the way to the Aerocene community.

This is where our conversation started: the dream of flying turned into a nightmare for so many. Through our aerosolar flight, we also tried to demonstrate a sense of hope – hope that we can find new ways of flying on planet Earth together, without fossil fuels, propellers, runways or hydrocarbons, and without colonialist dreams of leaving the planet.

This year, in January 2023, we gathered once again, together with a group of allies, collectives and supporting groups,* as national and international geopolitical and commercial interests continued to put pressure on the basin. Facing the escalating climate crisis and the urgency of the energy transition, the message from the communities is clear: we refuse to be a sacrifice zone. The energy transition cannot reproduce the same extractivist, neocolonial policies imposed on the Global South, amplifying social, ethnic and environmental inequalities. We must listen to the voices from the territories, in defense of water, salt flats and the commons, for an eco-social energy transition for all of us.

This rights of nature movement strives for legal recognition of rivers, lakes and mountains, akin to human beings. During the gathering and the following workshops, the communities decided to declare the Salinas Grandes and Laguna de Guayatayoc as subjects of rights.

IV. Pachamama:
Who owns the planet

● W.K.

The pictures of your black balloons ascending from the white salt desert of the Salinas Grandes were absolutely captivating. You’ve not only developed and crafted sustainable flight models, but also demonstrated solidarity with the indigenous communities’ protests.

This brings me to the last block of our conversation: what can be ways forward, that is, ways to resist? It is evident that lawyers are, in many cases, part of the problem you’ve described. The police and the judiciary often employ authoritarian methods, such as criminalizing protests. The courts in northern Argentina order detentions and avoid holding the police accountable. Lawyers are even involved in drafting anti-terrorism laws. They are also part of the massive violation of critical human rights of the indigenous communities, namely the right to informed and prior consent regarding infrastructure projects.

Moreover, the dominance of business lawyers from London and New York is evident because they shape the global rules and regulations to protect capital interests, enabling them to exploit more effectively in certain regions of the world.
Katharina Pistor’s book The Code of Capital describes this phenomenon. In the case of lithium extraction in Jujuy, these regulations facilitated the sale of concessions for lithium extraction to an Australian and a US corporation for very little money. The local population and the broader Argentine population don’t profit at all from the extraction of their own natural resources.

Recently, the European Union introduced the Critical Raw Materials Act, which outlines the urgent necessity for certain raw materials in Europe, their projected future demand, and strategies for their acquisition. Disturbingly, concepts like “human rights” and “fair and just extraction conditions” aren’t mentioned at all. This reflects the reckless focus on resource acquisition to sustain our economic and societal way of life.

In my self-conception as a human rights lawyer, it is our mission and responsibility to dismantle this code of capital and infuse it with human rights, rights of nature, environmental rights, women’s rights and labor rights.

● T.S.

It is evident that the way laws are written is intrinsically linked to the accumulation of power in the hands of a few and to the detriment of others. These exploitative laws are imposed by a small group of people that benefit from them. In Jujuy, I came to understand from their “cosmovisions” that the local communities see all inhabitants of the planet as part of a larger family that considers mountains as brothers and sisters. This perspective doesn’t segregate animate from inanimate objects; it attributes agency even to what we might call “inanimate.” This is in stark contrast to the very limited, human-centric ideas of lawmakers – individuals claiming the prerogative to interpret the world and history and impose their way of life. Yet, the planet is a living entity, as are rocks and mountains and water. If lawyers aiming to be part of the solution were to rewrite the code of capital, as you mentioned, they would need to incorporate the participation of all these entities.

● W.K.

In this sense, discussions about the rights of nature inspire us to think beyond the limits of today’s visions. However, even in countries like Ecuador, where rights of nature are in fact acknowledged and the concept of Pachamama is embedded in the constitution, natural resources like oil are still exploited in the same detrimental way as before rights of nature were codified. Corporations continue to reap profits, while the environment is destroyed and communities suffer. Despite having human rights, the right to clean water, clean air, and informed and prior consent, these rights are constantly violated by powerful actors such as corrupt governments or corporations. To successfully resist this, or even to change these circumstances, it may not suffice to create new legislation. Even more, solely focusing on demanding new laws can be used to distract from the ongoing real and current struggles and from what is going on behind the scenes. Our efforts must extend beyond crafting laws; we must also strategize legal actions and facilitate access to justice for marginalized communities, empowering them to assert their rights – rights that may already be inscribed in written laws or that need to be further articulated in new legislation. Obviously, this endeavor is not confined to a purely legal struggle; it is inherently interdisciplinary. When I think of the important role played by investigators such as journalists, who gather the essential facts required for our lawsuits, and agencies such as the multidisciplinary research group Forensic Architecture from London, who reconstruct violent incidents and, alongside filmmakers and theaters, help to inform and mobilize the public inside and outside the courtrooms – it becomes evident that our mission involves a collective effort.

Your work and vision in that regard is intriguing: you challenge the conventional concept of property, historically rooted in the right of the white man to own, as inscribed in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

On the one hand, you highlight collective forms of economy practiced by indigenous communities, prioritizing communal well-being over individual accumulation. On the other hand, you discuss innovative ideas such as introducing partial common ownership of artworks rather than selling them. Currently, you’re involved in a project together with the Serpentine Gallery that aims at developing alternative models for distributing art profits. This endeavor, to me, represents a concrete utopia.

● T.S.

The interesting aspect of partial common ownership – perhaps better referred to as partial common stewardship – is that it allows us to see ourselves as temporary caretakers of something that extends beyond our individual interaction with it. This aligns with the cosmovisions we talked about earlier, reflecting a different relationship with the land and the air. This relationship isn’t defined by ownership but by the ability to use something when needed and then pass it on to someone else. You use only what you really need, and only as long as you need it. When you think about the massive amounts of land owned by just a few individuals, or the enormous amount of food waste that becomes trash and then ends up in landfills, the dysfunctional nature of property organization becomes evident. There is a complete dissociation between the use of resources and the amount a person requires to survive and thrive. In the domain of art, this dynamic translates into major collectors accessing expensive art pieces that often end up in storage – completely inaccessible and becoming yet another form of amassed wealth – while failing to contribute to the communities they represent.

Right now, as part of “Web(s) of Life,” we are weaving the collective artwork “Cloud Imagination” together with children from Jujuy and London. We asked them to create their own cloud drawings and contribute them to this artwork that allows us to experiment with partial common ownership.

Ensuring intergenerational justice means future generations must have economic and political leverage. Artist Dan Graham, for instance, suggests that all politicians should be under 18 years old, as by the time the laws made today come into effect, it will be them who must live with the consequences of these laws.

One aspect of realizing this vision involves a corresponding legal framework for redistributing economic and political power. This inclusive vision is already a reality in some contexts. Another opportunity came up during a trip to Cameroon, when I met Bollo Pierre Tadios, a spider diviner from the above-mentioned Somié community that appreciates the knowledge of spiders. When doubts or questions arise, they consult a spider diviner who communicates with the spiders and interprets their language and wisdom. In this community, the spider is an integral part of society, in contrast to many other arachnophobic societies. I was fascinated by this spider diviner and thrilled to find a community that cherishes spiderwebs as much as I do. I initially considered making a film about him; however, that would have meant appropriating his lifelong work and knowledge for my own gain, while the tradition and culture of spider diviners might dwindle in the meantime.

So, I resisted this urge to create a film and instead spent time with the spider diviner to find out what he considered valuable. After a week, Bollo asked me: “Tomás, you know what I really want? Can you build a website for me?” I didn’t expect anything like this. But he persisted: “I want a website. I want to offer my service to the rest of the world.” So, he asked, and we built a website for him. Now, the first piece displayed at the Serpentine Gallery exhibition is a website with his IP, his domain and his presentation of spider divination. You can contact him through his website, and he’ll consult the spider and receive one hundred percent of the fee for this service.

This was a very important moment for me. In this case, the diviners themselves defined the pricing system through a community protocol established in January 2023, which gives them control over their earnings for their services. The most effective way to support the spider diviner was to create this simple website, fostering greater appreciation for spiders, while providing sustainable support for their art.

● W.K.

This form of a global solidarity, acknowledging differences instead of delving into identity politics, strives to discover new ways of cooperation, acknowledging diverse backgrounds and complementing each other’s work. It is truly inspiring.

The case of Jujuy exemplifies tasks at multiple levels: firstly, indigenous communities must defend themselves – with our support – against criminalization and state violence. Secondly, specific legal actions are necessary both in Argentina and international forums to challenge the unjust exploitation of natural resources through governments and companies. And thirdly, long-term visions are needed not only for Jujuy but for all of us, to overcome the destructive economic model of the Capitalocene.

Since you and I started discussing this, the situation in Jujuy has changed dramatically. The governor of the province, Gerardo Morales, rapidly changed the constitution through an expedited procedure, disregarding national and international law. The right to protest, particularly the practice of blocking streets, has been severely restricted. Protesters, such as teachers and indigenous communities, have faced oppression, arrests and criminalization. The rights of the numerous indigenous communities have also been drastically diminished. The protest against lithium mining will be more difficult than before due to this constitutional reform – despite the various lawsuits initiated by human rights organizations against this reform to prevent an even worse situation.

On an additional level, we should develop concrete ideas utilizing existing legal tools. This should definitely be a topic for future conversations with the communities. Until the early 2000s, there were limited avenues for litigation to hold corporations accountable. However, progress has been made in organizing access to justice and enforcing economic and social rights. Innovative concepts and new forms of corporate accountability have emerged to legally target companies involved in the lithium mining in Jujuy. These supply chain laws, enacted in Germany and France, address companies operating beyond Europe or participating in global supply chains. Hopefully, a broader European law will be established in the near future.

It is evident that there has been a dynamic shift: our partner organizations in Argentina, such as CELS and ANDHES, are well-equipped to stand by oppressed individuals and groups. This marks a new development because, historically, lawyers were part of the elite, and marginalized communities struggled or even failed to access legal resources. Additionally, networks such as ECCHR and others in Europe are capable of filing cases against transnational corporations involved in human rights violations globally – recent developments not only provide a legal framework but also offer tools for political, artistic and activist campaigns. But it is also evident that the law – be it Argentine, European or international – is still largely skewed in favor of big business, and fundamental economic and social rights are not adequately established. While law and the legal struggles are essential, they have limitations when addressing systemic and complex problems. Therefore, we need new ideas, fresh impulses and innovative forms of analyzing the current situation, forging alliances beyond traditional partners, fields and disciplines to envision and progress towards fair, just and democratic societies in the present and future.

Biographies

● WOLFGANG KALECK is founder and General Secretary of the European Center for Constitutional and Human Rights (ECCHR) in Berlin, founded in 2007. Previously, he worked as a criminal law attorney and has been involved in the Koalition gegen Straflosigkeit (Coalition against Impunity) which fights to hold Argentinian military officials accountable for the murder and disappearance of German citizens during the Argentine dictatorship. Among others, he represents whistleblower Edward Snowden in Europe. Kaleck hosts the podcast Framing Human Rights on art, activism and justice and has published several books, currently preparing the release of Concrete Utopia. A Look Back into the Future of Human Rights (OR Books, 2024). For more information, visit ↘ www.ecchrhttps://.eu

● TOMÁS SARACENO is an Argentina-born, Berlin-based artist whose projects dialogue with forms of life and life-forming, rethinking dominant threads of knowledge and recognizing how diverse modes of being engage a multiplicity of vibrations on the Web of Life. For more than two decades, Saraceno has worked with local communities, scientific researchers, and institutions around the world, and has activated open-source, interdisciplinary, collective projects, including the Aerocene Foundation and “Arachnophilia,” towards a society free from carbon emissions, for intra- and interspecies climate justice. The list of his exhibitions and permanent installations at galleries, museums, and institutions internationally includes Serpentine Gallery, London, Palais de Tokyo, Paris Metropolitan Museum of Art,  ew York, and several Venice Biennales. For more information, visit ↘ www.studiotomassaracenohttps://.org

Further Reading

Concrete Utopia. A Look Back into the Future of Human Rights, New York/London, to be published in early 2024.

Framing Human Rights. ECCHR’s podcast about activism, art and justice, *↘ *open.spotifyhttps://.com/show/2kKQlvjD8cgpWEIfYyw3G3

Law versus Power. Our Global Fight for Human Rights, New York/London 2018.

Exhibition: “Tomás Saraceno in Collaboration: Web(s) of Life,” Serpentine Galleries, London, 2023, ↘ www.serpentinegallerieshttps://.org/whats-on/tomas-saraceno-webs-of-life-exhibition

“Fly with Pacha, into the Aerocene” is an ongoing audiovisual project directed by Tomás Saraceno and Maximiliano Laina that portrays the long-standing relationship between Tomás Saraceno, the Aerocene community he founded and the Communities of the Salinas Grandes and Laguna de Guayatayoc in Jujuy, Northern Argentina.

*The Aerocene Newspaper, *↘ www.aerocenehttps://.org/newspaper2023-eng

Nggamdu.org is a web portal by the spiders and diviners of Somié, Cameroon, made at the request of Bollo Pierre Tadios following a visit to Somié in 2019 by Tomás Saraceno and Maximiliano Laina, led by the guidance of anthropologist David Zeitlyn, with contributions by the filmmaker Iréné Nguea, Ollie George, Penny Fraser and Denis Ndeloh.

Sources

Duffy, Helen: *Strategic Human Rights Litigation: ‘Bursting the Bubble on the Champagne Moment’, *Leiden 2017,
www.universiteitleidenhttps://.nl/binaries/content/assets/rechtsgeleerdheid/instituuthttps://-voor-publiekrecht/grotius-centre/oratie-helen-duffy-spreekversie.pdf [accessed August 14, 2023].

For more information about the lawsuit by Pari island residents against the Holcim Group, visit: ↘ www.ecchrhttps://.eu/en/case/indonesia-climate-change-pari/ [accessed August 14, 2023].

For more information about the case of the Ali Enterprises factory fire, visit: ↘ www.ecchrhttps://.eu/en/case/more-for-show-than-safety-certificates-in-the-textile-industry/ [accessed August 14, 2023].

For more information about the Youth for Climate Justice case, visit: ↘ www.youthhttps://4climatejustice.org/ [accessed August 14, 2023].

Pistor, Katharina: The Code of Capital: How the Law Creates Wealth and Inequality, Princeton 2019.

Publisher

European Center for Constitutional and Human Rights eV (ECCHR)
General Secretary Wolfgang Kaleck (V.i.s.d.P.), Zossener Straße 55-58, Staircase D, 10961 Berlin, Germany,
info@ecchr.eu

Authors

Wolfgang Kaleck
Tomás Saraceno

Editorial Manager

Rieke Ernst

Copyediting & Editorial Supervision

Sophie Bunge

Proofreading

David Youssef

Design Concept

Nils Krüger and Maja Redlin (Print)
in collaboration with Karen Czock, Marcel Strauß and Fabian Wohlfart (Digital) as part of the Arbeitsgruppe Informationsdesign (AI)

Support

Max Parnell - Studio Tomás Saraceno

ISBN (print)

978-3-9825802-0-3

© 2023 ECCHR and the authors. All rights reserved.