Freedom and Responsibility: Arts and the Spirit of Protest
by Matthew C. Mackey
While we typically come to envision protest in the political sense, as an organized or disorganized body of individuals rallying behind a cause, who have come together in a declaration of opinion, to offer a gesture of disapproval, or lodge a complaint against the “powers that be,” protest occurs first on a very personal and experiential level as an ideological conflict. It isn’t always the people versus the government. For example, in his famous work, Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce speaks of being born in Ireland, “When the soul of a man is born in this country there are nets flung at it to hold it back from flight. You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets.” For Joyce, it was a matter of oppression. Any time freedom is burdened by the imposition of any oppressive force, protest is inevitable.
Artists play vital roles as protesters and dissidents. Protest, as Joyce points out, is a careful examination of oppressive forces that inhibit, police, or worse standardize autonomy. Actually, let me revise my previous statement: artists should play vital roles as protesters and dissidents. All artists should be revolutionaries of some sort or they might not be artists. Whether in their field, with their own notions, socially, politically, etc., artists must maintain the spirit of revolution, otherwise we will keep producing the same shit over and over and over. And, no, I don’t think that all artists need to subject themselves to the political soapbox, but as Salmon Rushdie says of poets, “A poet’s work is to name the unnamable, to point out frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop going to sleep.” It may be feasible to replace “poet” with “artist.”
In a previous article on Buried Letter Press, I discussed the social relevancy of other art forms compared to music. The article takes a look at how music has seemingly been the vanguard of the art world, constantly adapting and evolving, often ahead of the artistic curve. Take jazz for example. The complex composition that often resists standardization in form was a major influence for artists in the twentieth century. Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” which came out in 1924, was in direct conflict with the notions of strict musical regulations, inspiring a whole slew of jazz artists to start cultivating a rebellious, artistic inclination. Pushing for freedom from restriction, jazz has come to be the inspiration of many artists, such as Jackson Pollock, Langston Hughes, Jack Kerouac, Arthur Dove, were all influenced by jazz.
Elsewhere, we can see how Bob Dylan and Allen Ginsberg were mutual influences on one another. Ginsberg even appears in Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues” video. But, I digress, and perhaps Dylan is probably one of the most well-known social activists of his time, but he wasn’t alone. In the `60s and `70s a whole lot of musicians were presenting their views on what they considered to be significant and meaningful concerns. Not every song produced in the `60s and `70s was a song of protest or one that pointed toward social issues, and many of those songs are worth knowing, but there is a reason we think of these decades as eras of protest. From John Lennon to Neil Young to Bob Marley and a host of others, protest in music was considered a vehicle for social change. But, they lived at a time where those issues were prevalent, and that was so long ago. Oh, wait, war, social inequality, corporate greed, civil rights, etc. are still ongoing issues today.
There is of course a wide range of art and artists who promote a social consciousness, believing that art has the power to illuminate or suggest a higher awareness. In fact, here are a few works of art that inspire some of us at Buried Letter Press:
Robert Miltner-
Atrabillarios (The Defiant) By Doris Calcedo (Colombia) “Calcedo’s piece represents a movement in contemporary Central and South American art in which people who have been ‘disappeared’ are evoked by art. In this installation, of women’s shoes housed in cavities in the wall behind thin sheets of stitched cow bladder, evoke the only way bodies can be claimed, that is, by identifying the victim’s shoes. Haunting and ritualistic, this installation protests both the inhumane action and the official silencing of families by making the absent present. For music, I have to say, ‘Masters of War‘ by Bob Dylan, and I woke up this morning with ‘Get Up! Stand Up!’ by Bob Marley in my head. Jamaican Bob Marley’s raggae ”ragged” music became the beat 1970s for anti-colonialism, anti-racism, anti-poverty, anti-government oppression, providing a venue for the silenced and dis-empowered to sing their pride, nationalism and ‘rude boy’ (punk, rowdy) declarations. It is why Marley is so important in the Caribbean and in Africa. Before hip hop (name variant on the 1950s jazz “be bop” of Miles Davis, Charlie Parker, John Coltrain, and Thelonius Monk), raggae was the anthem, due to Marley. ”
Molly Fuller-
“You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive” By Patty Loveless. “Probably the most haunting and beautiful song EVER. I also love Frida Khalo’s work, but choosing one is difficult, so I’ll also offer Nan Goldin’s The Ballad of Sexual Dependency for MY favorite piece of protest art, which protests against the dominant repressive and homophobic culture.”
Rob Balla-
“My favorite protest song is ‘Fight the Power’ by Public Enemy. Not only did it serve as a defining song in a new genre of underground rap, but it also served as a touchstone for the young, urban, black community. It deals with institutionalized racism, freedom of speech, the deliberate media censorship of a band, genre, and a community. The subsequent legal battles also set the stage for a generation of politically active musicians. As for art, I was just last night discussing with my daughter Wilfred Owen’s ‘Dulce Et Decorum Est.’ Owen, a British World War I enlistee who advanced to the rank of Lieutenant wrote extensively about the horrors of war, its brutality, and the lies people tell in order to justify it. ’Dulce Et Decorum Est’ recounts the retreat of group of soldiers, who while trying desperately to stay ahead of enemy mortars falling steadily behind them, stumble into a vicious gas attack. Owen describes in vivid detail the horrific heath of one soldier who was unable to secure his gasmask in time.
The poem is a public condemnation of Jessie Pope, a WWI British pro-war poet and propagandist who encouraged young men to join the army in hope of finding valor and honor in battle. Owen reviles Pope with his final lines:
“My friend, you would not tell with such high zest/
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.(1)
(1) It is sweet and right to die for one’s country.
Owen died in battle of a fatal gunshot wound to the head – one week before the signing of the Armistice to end the war.”
Seth Hepner-
“I’ll go with ‘Not the Same’ by Ben Folds.”
Me-
I’m partial to Dylan’s “The Times They Are a-Changing.” The lines, “Come writers and critics who prophesize with your pen. And keep your eyes wide the chance won’t come again” has always prodded me to be conscious of how writing can be a watchtower against social injustice. I also think the Klíčová Soucha (The Key Statue) in Prague by Jirí David speaks volumes about protest. The sculpture sits in Franz Kafka square and says “Revoluce” (Revolution) in over 85,000 metal keys. Jangling keys were the symbol of pro-democratic rallies, organized by Vaclav Havel (also an artist), in 1989. It’s an undeniable reminder of how important it is to remain socially conscientious. Havel was the integral figure in overthrowing the communist regime oppressing the Czech Republic.
Art has great potential to raise awareness, to get into our heads, to promote solidarity, and to encourage a spirit of protest against any oppressive power, political or otherwise. Maybe music has traditionally been the most popular “voice” of protest, but that does not mean it is the only one. Artists have a rare opportunity and a grave responsibility to understand the social context of their work and the issues that inhibit not only their expressiveness, but issues that infringe upon human dignity as well. Artists should, as Joyce might say, “go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of [their] souls the consciousness of [their] race.”
