In August 1969, half a million people gathered on a dairy farm in New York state in a historical event brimming with peace, love, music, and politics. The festival came on the tail end of a decade characterized by war, protest, and uncertainty — the Vietnam War was ongoing, the Civil Rights Movement had ended with the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., the gay rights movement was picking up momentum, and politically-motivated violence was abundant. However, on this dairy farm, the message shared by festivalgoers was one of resistance and harmony.
While it is true that Woodstock ‘69 did not end war or injustice, and that it was a disorganized and overcrowded mess that resulted in three deaths, it did have the effect of bringing counterculture to the mainstream and uniting politics and music in a way never seen before. Even today, watching Jimi Hendrix’s rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner” on YouTube, one can feel the buildup of years of social and political unrest oozing through the screen.
Out of all the forms of protest art we consume, music is easily the most prevalent. Politically charged music has been around for centuries, and it is highly probable that you have consumed a piece of protest music without actually knowing the context behind it. For example, Ludwig van Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” was written as a tribute to an ideal world in which humanity was united against war and slavery, and international pop hit “99 Luftballons” by German singer Nena was an anti-nuclear warning in disguise.
Furthermore, entire genres of music have emerged as a means of social struggles and discontentment. Hip-hop and rap both emerged in New York City as an avenue for artistic resistance and expression in the midst of economic and racial inequalities in America. Punk music and culture was derived from anti-capitalist, anti-imperialist outrage. Music as a form of protest has quite literally shaped the art form and its trends. While our listening habits are an everyday and comparably ordinary aspect of life, it is exactly this mundanity that makes it such an effective form of mobilization in social movements.
Protest music can range from gentle to all-out furious. Bob Dylan’s unique crooning in “Blowin’ in the Wind” and Joni Mitchell’s danceable “Big Yellow Taxi” both effectively roll up issues of war and environmental degradation into catchy folk tunes. On the other hand, “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine and “B.Y.O.B” by System of a Down are overtly outraged outcries against police brutality and the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. The use of music as a means of expressing rage and frustration spans across genres, issues, and generations.
How can protest music impact change? As previously mentioned in the case of Woodstock ‘69, there was not any real political change that occurred as a result of a bunch of hippies grooving to rock-and-roll, preaching peace, and dropping acid in a Dionysian haze. Time Magazine released an article on August 29, 1969, a mere ten days following the festival’s end, stating that the festival became “the equivalent of a political forum for the young.” In this sense, the motivation spurred by politically charged movement is not merely about making change. It is about gathering a community united by the desire and motivation to fight for change.
Governments also restrict politically dissenting music for a reason. Songs perceived to be depicting relevant anti-government messages are censored from media or downright removed from the airwaves — the treatment received by the Sex Pistol’s “God Save the Queen” and even John Lennon’s “Imagine.” This music motivates ordinary people to pay attention to and care about the most relevant issues of the day, and elicits a sense of shared struggle and a need for action amongst its audience.
While roadtripping through the Kootenays this summer, I found a bumper sticker at a roadside stand that read “music is the weapon of the future.” My boyfriend urged me to get it and stick it on my car, which I gladly did. The quote comes from Nigerian political activist and Afrobeat pioneer Fela Aníkulápó Kuti, a man who used his art to critique the Nigerian government and passed away due to heart failure from AIDS, a disease heavily ignored by health authorities around the world for decades.
It took a while for me to really understand what makes music a weapon in the first place. However, the power in music as a weapon comes from its reach, its unifying strength, and its emotional appeal. The beautiful thing about such a weapon is that it can be wielded by anyone, anywhere, and will draw no blood in the process.
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