Dictators hate political cartoons -- so I keep drawing them

"A political cartoon is a barometer of freedom," says Rayma Suprani, who was exiled from her native Venezuela for publishing work critical of the government. "That's why dictators hate cartoonists." In a talk illustrated with highlights from a career spent railing against totalitarianism, Suprani explores how cartoons hold a mirror to society and reveal hidden truths -- and discusses why she keeps drawing even when it comes at a high personal cost. (In Spanish with consecutive English translation)

[This talk is delivered in Spanish
with consecutive English translation]

(Rayma Suprani: Speaks Spanish)

Cloe Shasha: When I was a little girl,

I used to draw
on all the walls of my house.

(RS: Speaks Spanish)

CS: Until one day, my mother
got angry and told me,

"You can only draw on one wall.

Don't draw on any others."

(Laughter)

(Speaks Spanish)

That was the first time I experienced
an act of totalitarian censorship.

(Laughter)

(Speaks Spanish)

But a lack of freedom
stimulates creativity and empowers it.

(Speaks Spanish)

Many years have passed since my childhood,

but throughout my formal studies,

I found myself drawing
in the margins of my notebooks

instead of paying attention
to my professors.

I studied journalism in college

with the intention of expanding
my communication and writing skills,

but the only thing
that I felt connected to in life

was drawing.

(Speaks Spanish)

I was born in a democracy,

in a country called Venezuela,
which is now a dictatorship.

(Speaks Spanish)

For 19 years,

I was the daily cartoonist
for "El Universal,"

one of the biggest newspapers
in Venezuela.

I really enjoyed translating political
and cultural current events into drawings.

(Speaks Spanish)

In the year 2014,

I got fired from my job at the newspaper
over a cartoon that I drew

alluding to the health care
system in Venezuela.

I drew a flat line of a heartbeat monitor,

but I intentionally drew
the heartbeat line

in a way that resembled
the signature of Hugo Chavez,

the former president of Venezuela.

(Laughter)

(Speaks Spanish)

All of this happened
after the newspaper was bought

by an unknown company,

and some of us suspect

that it was the Venezuelan government
who was behind that deal.

(Speaks Spanish)

My work as a cartoonist
became more and more of a nuisance

for the dictatorship.

They have no tolerance
for any freedom of expression

or free thinking.

(Speaks Spanish)

After I got fired,

I started to feel unsafe
in my own country.

I received anonymous calls
and death threats.

I was mocked publicly
on national television.

I was eventually forced out of Venezuela,

and I now live in Miami, Florida,

where I am free to be
my own editor for my work.

(Speaks Spanish)

A political cartoon is a barometer
of freedom in a country.

That's why dictators hate cartoonists

and try to eradicate everything
that involves humor

as a mirror for social
and political issues.

(Speaks Spanish)

A cartoon involves a delicate balance
of ideas and drawings

that reveal a hidden truth.

(Speaks Spanish)

And a good cartoon is one that conveys
a plot of a full-length movie

in a single frame.

(Speaks Spanish)

A cartoon needs to communicate
the core of a story with its precision.

And when it succeeds,

its message can have the effect
of inoculating people

with a dose of skepticism.

(Speaks Spanish)

Cartoons are drawn
from observation and analysis.

They are inspired by muses of mythology,

as well as classical, modern
and paleolithic tales.

(Laughter)

When we are told that a modern-day emperor
is wearing new clothes,

cartoons reveal that the emperor
just might still be naked.

(Speaks Spanish)

At one point in my career,

I drew pigs and compared them
with politicians and national guards

who were responsible for stopping
peaceful student demonstrations.

One day, when I got back to my office,

I had a letter on my desk.

(Speaks Spanish)

The letter was from
the Venezuelan Swine Federation.

(Laughter)

(Speaks Spanish)

The letter said,

"Please do not compare an animal
as wonderful as a pig with politicians.

(Laughter)

Pigs are very friendly and noble,

they can be a great mascot,

they make good pets

and they provide sustenance to us
in the form of pork."

(Speaks Spanish)

I think they were absolutely right.

I didn't draw any more pigs,

but I did keep drawing politicians.

(Laughter)

(Speaks Spanish)

A cartoon travels
on an information highway,

which seems like it has multiple lanes,

but in reality, all of these lanes

lead to a binary response
of either positivity or rage.

"I like it" or "I don't like it."

Those are the only responses

that govern democratic thinking
on the internet.

(Speaks Spanish)

We have lost the space for nuanced debate,

we have no time,

so we simply respond
with approval or disdain,

and we let algorithms take over.

(Speaks Spanish)

But a cartoon is born
from a space of deep, nuanced thinking.

Creating a good cartoon
involves repeated failures,

draft after draft.

And a cartoonist must shed
their own taboos

to spark a conversation,
rather than a confrontation,

through their work.

(Speaks Spanish)

In the year 2013, President Chavez died,

and I had to think about what to draw
as the cartoon of the day

at "El Universal."

I was personally happy
that he had passed away,

because I thought
that the end of his power

would potentially bring our country
closer to freedom and better times.

(Speaks Spanish)

But there were many other people
who were mourning the death of Chavez,

so there was a divided
sentiment in Venezuela.

Some were celebrating,

and others were crying
at the loss of their leader.

(Speaks Spanish)

I felt stuck,

I really didn't know what to draw
in this historic moment.

And I knew that I couldn't allow
my happiness to seep into my work,

that I should take the higher road
and respect people's grief.

So what could I draw?

(Speaks Spanish)

I spent many hours drafting
and throwing out papers.

My editor called me and said

everything was late
for that day's newspaper

and asked me when I'd be done.

It was in the middle of the night
that the idea came to me.

And we then published a cartoon

that represented
a historical moment in time.

(Speaks Spanish)

A fallen king chess piece in red.

(Speaks Spanish)

A good cartoon has a lot of power.

It can generate action and reaction.

That's why a cartoonist must
exercise their power responsibly,

showcasing the truth

and drawing without
the fear of consequences.

(Speaks Spanish)

Having an opinion has a cost,

and in some countries, that cost is high.

(Speaks Spanish)

In Venezuela,

many young people have been killed
for protesting peacefully.

There are men and women
who are stuck behind bars

as political prisoners.

So over the years,

I've drawn the faces of imprisoned women,

because I don't want them
to be forgotten by the community.

(Speaks Spanish)

This year at an event
called El Foro Penal,

which is a criminal forum

where a group of lawyers do pro bono work

for Venezuelan political prisoners,

a young woman approached me and she said,

"I was imprisoned,

and then you drew my face and my story.

It's because of that drawing
that people knew who I was.

Your cartoon helped me survive
my days in prison.

Thank you."

(Speaks Spanish)

This was a moment that meant a lot to me,

because I had found a way to collaborate

with the memories
of my country and its people.

(Speaks Spanish)

Last year, I started making
drawings about immigration.

I drew my own world, my fears,

my suitcase, my roots

and everything that I had
to leave behind in Venezuela.

I also drew my joy
in the face of this new opportunity

as an immigrant in the United States.

(Speaks Spanish)

From there, I worked
on a series of drawings

that represented the experience
and psychology of immigration.

(Speaks Spanish)

Being an immigrant
is like moving to another planet.

At first, you don't understand
anything about your new world.

There are new codes, a new language

and unfamiliar tools
you need to learn how to use

in order to adapt to your new life.

(Speaks Spanish)

Being an immigrant is the closest thing
to being an astronaut

who landed on the moon.

(Speaks Spanish)

Over time, that series of drawings
became a traveling exhibition,

called "I, Immigrant."

And the exhibition traveled
to multiple cities,

including Miami, Houston,
Madrid, Barcelona,

and we're hoping for more places.

(Speaks Spanish)

The show has become
a meeting space for the diaspora,

for people to gather and recognize
their shared experiences of suffering

that come with immigration.

(Speaks Spanish)

What I want these drawings to convey

is that an immigrant is not a criminal.

An immigrant is a person
whose life has been broken.

A person who has very likely
been separated from their family

under inhumane conditions.

Who has been forced to leave their country
in search of a better life.

(Speaks Spanish)

A drawing can be a synthesis of a place,

a universe, a country or a society.

It can also represent
the inner workings of someone's mind.

For me, drawing cartoons
is a form of resistance.

(Speaks Spanish)

A cartoon is like a Rosetta stone.

If we throw it into outer space,

a future alien would be
able to know with certainty

that in the past,

we once had a civilized world
with free thinking.

(Speaks Spanish)

That one wall that my mother gave me
the freedom to draw on feels infinite.

And it's for that reason
that I am still drawing.

Thank you very much.

(Cheers and applause)