South African Apartheid

Apartheid is the incredibly deliberate segregation of people within a nation based on race.  This is a total and complete "apartness" that leads to dreadful socioeconomic tensions and stratification.  The South African apartheid of the 20th century was particularly brutal.  Historically, these tensions resulted from the early Dutch, French, British, and Indian colonization of the area in from 1642 to the late 19th century.  At this time, land was taken from native South Africans and redistributed, causing the modern disintegration of their economy.  Hugely oppressive social policies were set into place and by 1910 formal segregation had completely stripped the indigenous people of their identity as free South Africans.    By 1948, deep resentment plagued the diverse groups of both black and white citizens.  This seeped into the political corruption to the point that white politicians openly ran on platforms ensuring segregation.  The 1950s were consumed with policies called "petty apartheid" that included the Population Registration Act, the Group Areas Act, and the Reservation of Separate Amenities Act. This decade of systematic decay climaxed with the "grand apartheid" of the '60s which included forced removals, growth of bantustas, and a severely segregated education system.

The following video connects many stories of oppression from this time and also brings us to the role of resistance music for those impacted most by the apartheid.

Open resistance to systematic oppression began as early as 1906.  The idea of satyagraha permeated through the culture of resistance, holding to the necessity of truth in response to unfair aggression.  These practices were heavily influenced by Ganhdi and demanded a consideration to non-violence.  In 1912, the African National Congress (ANC) formed as a collective actor on behalf of all Africans and took a moderate stance in political activism.  Non-agression in politics and resistance failed to gain momentum and in 1949, the ANC pushed toward more disobedient tactics.  The movement gained energy and as Mandela rose to leadership, defiance campaigns drew thousands of people.  However, throughout the '50s this energy was met with equal corruption.  Often thousands of protestors were arrested at once and by 1960 one of the most atrocious massacres of the civil rights decades occurred.  In Sharpeville, 69 protestors were shot by police authorities.  The majority of them had bullet wounds to the back, indicated they were shot while fleeing.  A militant branch of the ANC formed in 1961, referred to in translation as "the spear of the nation".  This was a supremely depressing time for resistors, as Mandela was imprisoned and the movement seemed to be hopeless.  

Click to hear a little more about the capture and conviction of Nelson Mandela.

It wasn't until the 1970s that the people regained the momentum needed for the final push to freedom.  This was a time of "black power".  Students played a huge role in mobilizing the activists.   Major protests like the Soweto Uprising were fought by high school students protesting the government policy to strip the black schools of the native languages, requiring Afrikaans as the only legal language to use. The 1980s reinforced these voices as pressure from the United States countered the legality of apartheid policies.  It wasn't until the release of Nelson Mandela in 1991 that native Africans completely believed freedom was possible.  This was the breaking point for the oppressing regime and the celebration point for those who had waited decades for hope.  In 1994, the first completely free election was held and soon after Mandela took the presidency and served the next few decades on behalf of these freedom fighters.

These decades of hopelessness were countered only by determination of the African people.  As the video below shows, music was the most powerful political tool they had available.  It was deeply a part of their culture and easily shared across languages and organizations.  

Compared to the very peaceful freedom songs used by the civil rights activists of the American '60s, these songs demanded a very physically aggressive demeanor.  When sung, the activists were not violent in nature but allowed their bodies to be consumed by the rhythm with dance. In combining dance and song within the protest, the energy was electric in it's physical manifestation.  Hundreds of thousands of people marched against war tanks.  It was primal in a very legitimate way and allowed the massive protestors to defy even the most menacing authorities.  There was a beauty in how the music consumed their bodies as though not even the individual had control of the power within themselves.  

At this point, we have listened to many freedom songs by musical activists who were often exiled from their home during the most tumultuous years of the movement.  Below is Hugh Masekela who I particularly love listening to.  His music is filled with both heart wrenching and hopeful stories that I think embody the attitude of those oppressed over the past century.  Here is a piece from his performance celebrating the life and liberty of Nelson Mandela.

South African Apartheid

The Singing Revolution

Many of my classes over the past few years have been focused on understanding the systematic use of both violence and non-violence to produce change within a society. Because violence is inherently overpowering and historically more effective in securing a party's interest, I am most interested by the movements that were successful through non-violent means.  How did they do it?  Where does their strength come from?  As our class progresses, we are constantly reminded of the human strength and spirit needed to resist any evil, especially political and social evils.  We find an interesting form of this strength when oppressed people join together in song in a desperate and determined resistance. This week, the resistance stories came from the Estonian Singing Revolution.

Nestled against the Baltic Sea, Estonia has a rich culture and history of suppression.  After becoming an official nation in 1918, Estonians fell victim to both Soviet and German occupation.  The Soviet Union and Germany signed the non-agression Molotov-Ribbentrop pact but took turns invading and over-invadiing each other into Estonia for the next part of the century.    By 1944, the SU regained power of Estonia and began programs to deport and execute many of its citizens.  A decade of systematic reorganizing followed.  The first to be deported or executed were Estonian government officials, teachers, and persuasive leaders.  National symbols were banned.  Estonian farms were taken and redistributed to Russian immigrant workers.  Resistant speech was punished by prison or death and Estonian culture was silenced by the shadow of occupation.

One particularly interesting piece of Estonian culture is its rich heritage of music.  Unique to the Baltic regions, Estonians participate in a national song celebration every five years.  This festival, called Laulupidu started in 1869 and played a major role in sustaining Estonian tradition even through occupation.  After World War II the Soviet regime took advantage of Laulupidu and used it to spread propaganda and to disillusion resistors.  

However it was also during these festivals that Estonians rebuilt their society. During the 1947 festival, Estonians gathered in their first public protest against occupation.  Because the songs, costumes, and attendees were censored, the thousands of people sang Soviet tunes and waved Soviet banners.  However, as the concert finale approached, the choir became excited. At the top of their voices, they sang Mu isamaa, On minu arm, a song composed by Gustav Ernesaks which lifted the lyrics to a folk poem banned by the censorship. This performance reflected the anxiety and determination bound within the Estonian people and their willingness to stand together.  While nationalism was against the law in any form, this became the unofficial anthem for the people throughout the next 50 years.

 By 1985, discontent was brewing again. Trying to soften social tensions, Mikhail Gorbachev granted glasnost, or free speech (at least symbolically).  Estonians experimented with their right to assemble and by 1987, one of the first successful demonstrations occurred in protest of strip mining for phosphates.  This gathering was eventually shut down, but due to its non-political and non-violent nature, the authorities could do little to stop the energy.  The mass of protestors moved to the Tallinn song festival grounds and continued to sing. The success of this protest stopped the mining operation and led to a series of other public demonstrations.  

The impact of this movement reflected an evolution of society. For the first time in decades, Estonians were able to describe exactly what they wanted with their country.  Also for the first time in decades, the governing regime could no longer ignore the  boiling discontent.  In June of 1988 the "singing revolution" was in full swing.  Nighttime demonstrations began on the Laulupidu grounds.  These meetings were filled with resistance speakers, non-violent collaboration, and of course singing.  In September of that year, 300,000 people for the Song of Estonia festival.  Soon after registration for official citizenship began.  The movement climaxed with international attention on August of 1989, when 1 million people across the Baltic region created a physical human chain from Tallann to Vilnius.  In non-violent protest to occupation, they demanded recognition and the repeal of the Molotov-Rippentrop pact.  In many dialects and languages, the stories of persecution and songs of defiance were shared proudly.  

For more information on Estonian culture and musical history, check this link.
Estonica
Also see: Estonian Singing Revolution: 20 Years On for a short recap on the festivals today.

Labor Music

When we think back on large social movements in the United States, one of the most pervasive was the labor movement of the early twentieth century.  With an increase in factory work, experimental technology, lacking oversight, and large influxes of immigrants, the American labor ecosystem was rapidly changing.  It was during these years that many catastrophic workplace accidents sprung up across the country.  From the fire at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company that killed dozens of women to the Fairmont Coal Company explosion that killed 362 men and boys, accidents and apathetic
factory owners led to mass uproars.  It was during this time that unions became so vital to the collective action of American citizens.

Unions found that one of the most effective ways to reach the vulnerable working class was through music.  Their music appealed both to those actively seeking change as well as those who might have otherwise settled for low labor and living standards.  Music was a tool for raising awareness and asking for assembly around issues of contention.  Especially considering the advancement and popularity of radio broadcasting, music was both a tool for cultural expression but also political resistance.  Similar to broadside ballads, labor tunes were folksongs by nature, springing up directly from the people and issues of the time.  They were often sung to familiar tunes, allowing many demographics to catch on to them.  A well known organizer of the International Workers of the World, Joe Hill, was one of the largest voices of this time.

An example of his work focused on the elderly after working was no longer a viable option for them.
In The Old Toiler, Hill gave insight into the common thought of those faced with retirement while having no sustainable income.

"Darling I am growing old'' --

So the toiler told his wife --

"Father Time the days have tolled

Of my usefulness in life.

Just tonight my master told me

He can't use me any more.

Oh, my darling, do not scold me,

When the wolf comes to our door.''

CHORUS:

To the scrap heap we are going

When we're overworked and old --

When our weary heads are showing

Silver threads among the gold.

"Darling, I am growing old --''

He once more his wife did tell --

"All my labor pow'r I've sold

I have nothing more to sell.

Though I'm dying from starvation

I shall shout with all my might

To the coming generation.

I shall shout with all my might --"

A more modern version of a labor movement song came from Pete Seeger and the Almanac Singers.  In a form commonly called blues talk, Seeger used spoken word and a familiar tune to share many struggles faced by union organizers.   This  song was named after the style of speaking/playing. Here is Seeger and the Almanac Singers.

These labor songs from the early 1900s and more contemporary are meant to be both reflective of the issues at the time and a call to action.  They shared stories of poverty, death, and lost hope but also worked to arouse energy in those willing to stand for change.  They targeted especially the migrant workers who would be willing to work for very low wages despite union squabbles, and therefore would take away all bargaining power the unions held.  In targeting these groups, their membership was diversified, strong, and mobile across many states.

To see other example of popular union songs, check out this link. The 10 Best Union Songs of All Time

Broadside Ballads

Our class is well underway! We are currently knee deep in exploring the use of broadside ballads.  For a little history lesson, these were the pamphlets used during the 16th and 17th century to spread ideas of protest throughout the western world. Usually on the "broadside" of one sheet of paper, the text was combined with satirical images. The lyrics were set to familiar tunes so that the message was accessible to all, especially the lower class citizens.  Broadsides were sold for a penny each by street salesman and often included critiques of policy and government, and stories of inequality. They are thought have had two purposes. On one hand, they were used to raise consciousness of public ills and on the other, they were direct calls for action.  I believe many of them had both qualities. 

      Above is an example of a traditional English broadside. In class, we listen to modern day renditions of English ballads sold long ago.  Singer Paul Clayton had a specific interest in the historical impact of these ballads and created a collection including the song Bonny Bunch of Roses. Within the lyrics, we find a narrator (these were not typically first-person stories).  The ballad depicts a hopeful Europe as Napoleon began his first mission. They believed he would end oppression of the Lords upon the lower class.  The narrator is a peasant and reflective of common sentiment throughout the British Isles.  The term "Bonny Bunch of Roses" is thought to be a metaphor of grief regarding the, then current, state of the British empire.

   While broadsides seem to be logically a tool of the past, they have significant relevance within our culture today.  Pete Seeger's Ballad of Old Monroe is a perfect example of that.  Seeger's song was relevant to the civil rights movement and the controversial arrest of a black man for harboring two white strangers when they lost their way in Monroe, North Carolina.  This 1961 event spurred wide public upset when the man was charged with kidnapping.  Seeger's song was commissioned by the defense attorney and became very popular right before the trial.  With obvious intent, the song was instrumental in determining the verdict and setting the tone for future civil rights trials.

   Many believe that broadsides have not lost their utility even today in the information age.  Some consider YouTube marvels to have the same impact.  In general, I would rather distinguish between the broadside ballad in print and a video version, if only to hold to the strict sense of the definition.  However, I believe the power behind shared songs that are easily acceptable to all.

One of my favorite projects around this idea comes from a group called Playing for change.  Here is a bit of their work.

Stand By Me.

Let me know what you think!

Music as a tool for Change

Being the daughter of a music teacher meant a lot of things growing up.  

First it meant that everyone believed I had some sort of hidden musical talent.  That notion was proved wrong consistently, no matter how hard my parents tried. It also meant that I was constantly exposed to a wide array of music, from our Heavenly Highway Hymnal (alliteration appreciated) to Bob Dylan;  from Hank Williams Jr. to Billy Joel. Music has always been a powerful for myself and my family.  At holiday gatherings, church plays, funerals, and birthdays, our stories have been told through the lyrics of others and the musical tunes of my mom. This storytelling quality is exactly what draws me  to music as a tool for social change.  It's an equalizer, a relator, and a media through which people connect on one of the deepest levels.

This blog will document my reflections as I work my way through a class at Westminster College called Music of Resistance. We are tasked with exploring political and social activism through the lens of music, as a tool for change and solidarity from oppression. I have high expectations for this class and the conviction it will stir for each of us in it.  I'm also looking forward to learning more about the evolution of music within resistance culture, from the English Broadside Ballads we are studying now, to the Facebook and Twitter revolutions happening everyday through shared music/video. 

For me, the basics of musical activism and resistance lie in its ability to create cognitive change within an individual and to build solidarity between those individuals asking for a larger change within society. First, if anything, music is a really handy way to disseminate information.  A clever message set to a clever tune can be extremely consuming for a society. Plus, inspiring another person through music is a fairly cheap transaction, especially under emerging technologies (from radio to Youtube). The music initially creates a dissonance, whether small or large, that spurs reflection and hopefully decisive moments of impact for individuals.  Those people then share these ideas, rippling the intentional awareness through the larger community.  This can happen as a result of one initial voice, willing to share their resistance to the status quo, or through complex networks of people willing to sharing various songs around a common goal. Music scholar, Daniel Fischlin describes the way we define communities based on their musical thought.

…we live in communities, permeated by the sounds they give shape to and that correspondingly give shape to them.  We define communities by the sounds they make- and the sounds they refuse.  We generate sound and ideas about sound as extensions (reflections) of our political cultures, but also as critiques thereof.  And the sounds we call music haunt our daily lives at their seemingly most trivial moments, and also at their moments of apocalypse and cataclysm. (Fischlin, 11)

Our reading for this week's blog briefly analyzed the role of "rebel musicians".  Two artists that I am most interested in studying more are rai musicians, Cheb Hasni and Rachid Baba Ahmed.  Rai music is known in comparison to an electronic, American Blues for its soulfulness.  It's usually sung in Arabic and French and driving the lyrics are sentiments against the historical colonization of native Algerians, systematic poverty, inequality of rights, and fundamental Islamist extremists. Cheb Hasni and Rachid Baba Ahmed became targets when their controversial songs against such groups and ideas l.  Both  activist musicians were murdered by extremist regimes.

To hear these and other Rai artists, follow this link.

As I continue in my studies and reflection, feel free to share your thoughts! Do you have a favorite song of protest?  How has music influenced your perspective on social and political changes?

Until next time!