Unsurprisingly, the chapters collected in this section on singing and political action are concerned primarily with protest, whether considered in specific (e.g., a unique protest event) or general (e.g., a repertoire associated with protest) terms. Community singing has proven to be a valuable tool for the organization, energization, and execution of protest. I have found that many Americans associate the concept of community singing strongly with the civil unrest of the 1960s; the popular image of crowds singing “We Shall Overcome” in a show of collective demand for equal rights has lasted in the public consciousness, whether or not an individual ever witnessed the phenomenon. Mass singing certainly has the power to signal and reinforce unity of conviction, as well as to coordinate the actions and thoughts of individuals involved in protest. As the authors in this section demonstrate, however, music can be put to the service of protest in an extraordinary variety of ways, each of which draws uniquely on the content and context of collective song. This section also considers political action more broadly, as constituting the affirmation of collective identity in opposition to a perceived “other” outside the context of protest.
Almost all the chapters in this section emphasize the significance of repertoire. When collective singing is employed to effect political change, song choice matters. In many cases, political singing relies on songs with historical and cultural resonance. Jarryn Ha centers his chapter, “March for the Beloved: A Brief History of a South Korean Protest Song,” on “Imŭl Wihan Haengjingok” (March for the beloved, 1981), exploring its connections with the 1980 Kwangju Uprising, shamanistic kut rituals, and the broader minjung kayo (people’s songs) repertoire. When pro-democracy protesters sing “March,” they not only voice a shared political sentiment but also memorialize fallen comrades, celebrate the history of the democratization movement, and position themselves in a lineage of public resistance. In “ ‘Cielito Lindo’ or ‘Son de la Negra’?: Mariachi, Latinidad, and the Trump Administration,” Cameo Flores splits her attention between a pair of popular mariachi songs that were utilized in a variety of protests leading up to and during the US presidency of Donald Trump. These songs became useful not because of any association with a legacy of protest but because of their power to signify latinidad identity, which was itself politicized by Trump’s campaign rhetoric. For Simbarashe Gukurume, genre is likewise more important than specific textual content. The young Zimbabweans considered in his chapter, “Youth, Group Singing, and Peacebuilding in Urban Zimbabwe,” find community and express frustration with an authoritarian government by singing Zimdancehall and urban grooves—recent musical genres that uniquely represent their shared identity.
In his chapter on the use of protest songs in Poland during the 1970s and 1980s, “New Firebombs in Old Bottles: Social Mobilization and Cultural Resonance of Protest Songs,” Marek Payerhin elucidates parallels between the “repertoire of song” and the “repertoire of action” that political dissenters draw upon in times of need. In Payerhin’s analysis, which distributes protest songs across three categories, the identity of a song cannot be separated from the manner of its usage. First are familiar and beloved songs, deployed in situations that give protestors power over ruling forces. He describes several instances, for example, in which crowds of students sang “The Internationale” and other leftist songs favored by the communist government while confronting—and, as a result, paralyzing—that same régime’s police force. As with Flores’s mariachi musicians, the power of protest song may thus be wielded ironically, subtly, or covertly. Payerhin also addresses the adaptation of foreign protest songs to a Polish context and the pairing of new texts with familiar tunes that have “particular cultural resonance.” In this process of putting “new firebombs in old bottles,” the “new” element might be text or context, while the bottle can take various forms; in all cases, however, the social and political connotations of the song help spark the flame. In his chapter, “From ‘Preguntitas sobre Dios’ to ‘Solo le pido a Dios’: Protest and Piety in Latin American Community Singing,” Marcell Silva Steuernagel interrogates the intersection of protest and Christian belief in Latin America through the “constellation of repertoires” identified as canción protesta (protest song) and two of their contexts: liberation theology and the Catholic folk mass. Although the contents of this repertoire are stylistically diverse in keeping with the multitude of cultural influences at work in Latin America, individual songs are linked through shared ideology and influence.
Authors in this section express diverse perspectives on the nature of community singing. Steuernagel takes a broad view of participation, defining the singing community “as a group of people brought together by experience and/or intention through song.” Although he describes specific instances of sing-along behavior, he argues that his is a case of “community singing” not because it constitutes explicit musical participation but because the repertoire “expresses a perspective that is actively adopted by participants, and finds life in the voices not only of those who compose and record the music, but also those who make it their own.” As such, Steuernagel ascribes a significant role to the cantautores (workers of song) such as Mercedes Sosa and Chico Buarque who create and proliferate canción protesta, but finds the political power of the music to rest in a participatory fan base. Flores, likewise, explores the boundaries between presentation and participation. She centers the professional mariachi performers who appeared at anti-Trump protests, either on their own initiative or for pay, but emphasizes their roles in leading participatory singing and simultaneously sounding a collective identity. In “The Role of Hate Songs among Israeli Maccabi Tel Aviv Football Fans: The Entrapping Loop of Hatred,” on the other hand, Moshe Bensimon and Shiran Hen focus exclusively on participation, interviewing male football fans about their experiences in the stadium.
Chapters in this section reveal the power of music both to quell and incite violence. While Payerhin reports that lives were saved by the 1989 singing of “The Internationale,” Bensimon and Hen remind us that community singing can also increase the likelihood of physical altercation. They explore the link between hate songs—sung by supporters of the Maccabi Tel Aviv football club and directed against their principal rival, Hapoel Tel Aviv—and personal commitment to racist attitudes and beliefs, which are expressed freely in the “permission zone” of the stadium and passed from father to son as familial heritage. As one study participant put it, “My boy can tell me he’s gay and I will be fine with it, but not that he’s a Hapoel fan. That’s not an option.” In this context, hate songs play a key role in assigning and policing a collective identity with ethnic, religious, and political components, the violent implications of which are realized on and off the field. Taking the opposite tack, Gukurume resists narratives that associate youth singing events in Zimbabwe with violent action. While other scholars have emphasized the violent content and consequences of Zimdancehall music, Gukurume argues that youth group singing in the genre is “a form of community peacebuilding” that subverts violence rather than promoting it.
Should protest singing be valued in relation to its efficacy in effecting positive change? Probably not. It is unlikely, for example, that mariachi musicians played a key role in securing Trump’s 2020 election loss, and they certainly did not deliver any specific legislative or judicial victories. However, their presence at various protest events both highlighted the specific concerns of Latinx Americans and shaped political discourse as mexicanidad identity was subsumed into a broader sense of latinidad, uniting those villainized by Trump against their common foe. Group singing in Zimbabwe will never produce a change in government, but it can build community and create opportunities for disenfranchised youth. Maccabi supporters would hate Hapoel players and fans without the aid of chants, but collective singing locks them firmly into political identities. Perhaps it is more productive to reflect on the ubiquity of community singing in the pursuit of political ends; what is remarkable is not that music plays a key role in effecting political change, but that human beings seem unable to pursue political action without bursting into song.
The Oxford Handbook of Community Singing
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