The place of protest and strikes in our culture seems particularly pertinent given last week’s student strikes, and having been myself a witness to some of these I began to wonder about how we use such political action in film, art and music, harnessing the power of the people to enrich our culture. 

Billy Bragg is known to many as a popular writer and singer of protest song, and indeed has performed close enough to my house that I have heard the music wafting over the garden walls during Levellers’ Day, commemorating the 17th of May 1649 when, on Cromwell’s orders, three soldiers previously loyal to him were shot whilst protesting his rule, demanding civil rights and tolerance. This annual event takes place in the small town in Oxfordshire where I live, Burford, and has fascinated me since childhood, as it provides an interesting opportunity to witness a huge procession of different groups parade directly past my kitchen windows, with signs such as ‘Anarchy Rules’ delighting my inner pun-lover. But perhaps the most important aspect of the day to consider is the concert which takes place, since here I have experienced the inextricable bond between music and protest. Bragg’s music envelops many different genres, perhaps best defined as folk, but maybe the clearest link is between punk and protest.

When released, ‘God Save the Queen’ by the Sex Pistols caused a huge storm, with its anti-monarchy theme extremely vehemently expressed. Music is something which is intrinsically accessible, and allows people to feel part of a movement without perhaps performing any protest action. Irish rebel music has become part of that country’s culture, with songs such as The Fields of Athenry expressing a desire for freedom whilst including incredibly beautiful melodies and moving lyrics. More recently, as a protest against the X Factor and Simon Cowell, there was a public drive to make Rage Against the Machine’s hit ‘Killing in the Name’ the Christmas number one single. They succeeded – I have always felt sorry for poor Joe McElderry who lost out with his valiant rendition of Miley Cyrus’ ‘The Climb’ – and I suppose this is evidence that there is still public desire to use culture as a means of expressing dissent. 

Art can be a highly effective form of protest, as artists such as the Chinese political activist Ai Weiwei demonstrate, whose exhibition at the Tate of hand-painted sunflower seeds cemented his role in our cultural psyche and who combines his artistic endeavours with protest. Turner Prize winner Jeremy Deller’s exhibit at the Hayward Gallery in 2012 ‘Joy in People’ documented his artistic progress, and included stills from his famous project ‘The Battle of Orgreave’ which re-enacted the clash between police and protesters during the miners’ strike in 1984. 

In film and television, the visual impact of a protest can come across particularly effectively. In Hairspray, for example, a film which combines light-hearted elements of a teen romcom with serious messages about racial discrimination, the protest song led by Queen Latifah’s character is a moving and thoughtful moment of still amongst the usual cheer, and the visual impact of a crowd moving with one purpose is only compounded by the unity of their singing. 

A sense of objection and a desire to make a social impact are both excellent inspiration, and prompt creative expression which can pass on a message more effectively than many methods of communication.

BOOK – Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche

Anything by Adiche is worth a read, but this has always stuck with me. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to crying at a book (sorry kids, Dumbledore’s exit didn’t do it for me). Set during the Nigerian-Biafran war, it follows the fallout for four characters from different sides of society. It’s so vividly written and doesn’t shy away from the characters’ mixed loyalties and the difficult moral positions war places them in.

FILM – ‘Navega’ by Mayra Andrade

At the moment my musical obsession is Mayra Andrade. She sings beautiful,
lively Cape-Verdean infl uenced music. I stumbled across her by accident and knew nothing about the style, but it’s enchanting. Her 2006 album ‘Navega’ and the song of the same name are still my favourites – it starts almost like a lullaby and gradually layers rhythms and instruments until it’s a dynamic, energetic bundle of  life and dancing.

ART – Roby Ryan and Dana Tanamachi

I do web and graphic design in my spare time, so I follow graphic design more than fine art. Rob Ryan does incredible paper cut designs and screen prints which have this wonderfully whimsical feel. He’s now had his work featured on products for John Lewis, but his original papercutting work is still my favourite. Another graphic designer working in an unusual medium is Dana Tanamachi,
who works in chalk, doing hand-lettering and typography.

FILM – Public Speaking by Michael Scorsese

I recently watched this slightly mad feature-length Scorsese documentary on Fran Lebowitz. She’s got a wickedly dark sense of humour at times, but also a cutting clarity in observing the odd customs of society. It’s predominantly
conversation-based, mixed with footage of Lebowitz talking over the years. It will leave you wishing everything that tumbled out of your mouth came across that sharp-witted.

When news filtered through from the authorities at the Oriental Institute that the destination of our year abroad had been changed from Lebanon to Jordan, we felt a peculiar sense of relief and disappointment. Such was – and to a large extent, is – the situation in Lebanon, and in particular Egypt, that we welcomed the last-minute change to proceedings. However, those dangerous preconceptions one often has of a foreign country took hold as friends and relatives who had visited Jordan wavered somewhere between impressed and underwhelmed. “It’s a dump!” one told me. “Jordan is so boring!” claimed another. As we near the end of our first month in Amman, I can only disagree.

Managing expectations was always going to be difficult with our minds dead-set on what Cairo and Beirut had to offer and no one here will deny that, but after the Eid break and several weeks of adjusting to life in Jordan, we have all been pleasantly surprised. Amman, Jordan’s capital, is home to the ancient ruins of the Roman citadel and a wonderfully preserved amphitheatre, while shisha bars and cafes provide the city with its own Middle Eastern authenticity. However, the country’s real attractions lie elsewhere. We are fortunate that the ancient city of Petra, the highly recommended Wadi Rum, and the port city of Aqaba lie in store for us.

We have, though, already visited the viscous waters of the Dead Sea where people can be seen rather peculiarly bobbing like corks and covering themselves from head to toe in mud. Similarly remarkable was the image of the West Bank, staring at us from just a few miles away on the other side. We followed our Dead Sea outing with a trip to Madaba, often referred to as the ‘City of Mosaics’. Its impressive archaeological park and Church of St. George are perhaps the best examples of the city’s affiliation with mosaics, particularly the latter which contains the 6th century Madaba Map, the oldest surviving map of Palestine which is said to have been 25 metres long in its original form.

While we have been reassured by the abundance of attractions outside Amman and the countless bars and cafes within, Jordan’s true wonder can be found in its peace and neutrality. With neighbours like Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, Saudi Arabia and Iraq, the country’s stability is quite remarkable. Comparisons are often crude and born out of ignorance, but one can see why Jordan is sometimes dubbed the ‘Switzerland of the Middle East’. Refugees, both rich and poor, flock here in their desperate attempt to escape the war and poverty engulfing their homeland, namely Syrians and Palestinians. A staggering 1/3 of Amman’s population is from Palestine, an estimate manifested in the prevalence of Palestinian taxi drivers in the capital city.

After years of widespread instability during the Arab Spring, Jordan has maintained its monarchy and has a parliament widely considered to be under the firm control of King Abdullah II, who in fact graduated from Pembroke College. In recent years, the country’s most significant outcry was caused by a rise in the price of oil from 6 Jordanian Dinars to 10 JDs per canister, which speaks volumes about Jordan as a whole. It is little surprise that Jordanians are sensitive to the prices of water and oil as they produce very little of their own, relying on imports from neighbouring countries, but there is a link between the country’s meagre resources and its longstanding harmony. Peace in Jordan cannot be explained in simple terms, but a combination of the healthy relationship between the people and the monarchy and the country’s lack of valuable resources are undeniably significant.

With no prospect of any imminent national security threats and a people full of love, warmth and friendliness, who could possibly complain? While accounts of rape and assault continue to emerge from Egypt and women in Saudi Arabia are castigated by the authorities for holding a national driving day to combat the laws banning them from driving a car, Jordanian women are encouraged by the monarchy to be educated and seek careers for themselves. It’s a shame that a country with press freedoms and a sense of gender equality cannot shed some light on its troubled neighbours.

★★★★☆
Four Stars

Matangi is an important album for M.I.A; it’s her first major release since 2010’s disappointing Maya and the damning critique published by the NY Times in the same year. The article called Maya out on the opinions stated in through her lyrics and public appearances; she was accused of trivialising a complex political situation in Sri Lanka, of naïvety and hypocrisy in global issues, and of encouraging violence. All this has more than an element of truth, and I certainly wouldn’t advise anyone to look for political inspiration in Maya’s songs. But when listening to M.I.A, the words are somewhat secondary. Aesthetics plays a huge role in her life, and her ability to conjure images through music rather than words is stunning. Since her first projects in 2004, Maya’s style has been defined by its musical multiculturalism, clashing Western electro with Asian melodies and African rhythms.  The mix is exotic and heady; aural pictures of lush tropics juxtaposed with growing industrialisation and political unrest abound. At its best, listening to M.I.A is like a rush of adrenaline, focusing your attention and forcing you to inhabit the world that she sings about.

The quality of her previous work, combined with Interscope’s endless delays to release has built a lot of anticipation for this album. Opening with the lumbering synths of ‘Karmageddon’, first impressions are that Maya may be back on form. However, title track ‘Matangi’ doesn’t hit as hard as you’d like it to, and we have to wait until the fifth song ‘Come Walk With Me’ to get something really worthwhile. Despite this, the whole of the middle of the album is excellent, with songs like the infamous ‘Bad Girls’, Weeknd-featuring ‘Exodus’, and ‘aTENTion’, which may be one of the best songs M.I.A has done since her early years. Unfortunately, the back end of the album drags on and feels somewhat lacklustre, but the rhythmic assault of ‘Bring the Noize’ brings an invigorating break.

Matangi is a worthy effort, and while it might not reach the disorientating ecstasy of 2007’s Kala, it is easily one of the most sonically interesting albums of the last 5 years and definitely worth your time.