Hysteria at Glastonbury: The intersection of music and politics
The moral panic that erupted following the recent Glastonbury Festival was truly something to behold. Who would have thought that an outspoken punk duo leading chants against a military force would spark such widespread controversy? Especially since punk has never been famous for its subtlety. While some saw this incident as an unusual and unwanted collision between music and politics, with some calling for musicians to stick to what they know, that could not be further from the truth.
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Music and politics have always been intertwined, meeting at the crossroads of harsh reality and the collective mood of the people. The hysteria that followed Bob Vylan’s performance might have led you to believe that: 1) we’ve never before witnessed a performer express anything even remotely controversial or in contradiction to the official establishment line, and 2) it is somehow outrageous for an artist to dare deliver anything beyond a catchy, radio-friendly hook. For too long, the cultural mainstream has been lulled into a Taylor Swift-fuelled fever dream, where the most contentious thing a singer might ever say is how badly a break-up went. Frankly, I would argue that we’ve gone soft.
Art devoid of reflection, political resonance, or expressive intent isn’t really art at all. Whether such resonance is deliberate or not, direct or indirect, conscious or unconscious, music—like all art—carries meaning. If it doesn’t, it becomes pointless. That said, one might argue that even a soulless pop track—Katy Perry’s recent Women’s World, comes to mind—with no meaningful reflection on modern society or apparent self-awareness, is itself a kind of statement. Perhaps an unintentional one, but a statement nonetheless.
To many, everything carries a political dimension, even if there is an explicit effort to separate it from the political sphere. Music has existed alongside humanity for as long as we’ve existed ourselves. It is arguably one of the fundamental pillars of culture—something that makes us human. Music has never been a frivolous pursuit. It has always meant more than just a pleasing chord sequence. It’s precisely why colonial powers and occupying forces have historically sought to silence or regulate the music of the cultures they sought to dominate. Music has power, and those who wield power know that.
Consider the historical examples: the British banned the bagpipes in 1745 following the Jacobite uprising; during the transatlantic slave trade, traditional African talking drums were prohibited in colonies like Haiti. These were not arbitrary decisions, they were attempts to stifle cultural expression and communication. Music that challenges the status quo or strengthens community identity has always been seen as a threat. That alone should tell us that music must always be about more than just a “good tune”. And when it faces pushback from the establishment, that’s usually a sign that it’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to. Art should challenge us to think differently. It should confront those in power, not act as a mouthpiece for them.
Looking back at the origins of popular music—rock and roll, R&B, rap, punk, and everything in between—there has always been protest and commentary. And not just from fringe artists, but from some of the most iconic figures in music history. Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the U.S.A. was a scathing, if often misinterpreted, critique of governmental neglect of veterans. The Beatles’ Get Back was a satirical take on British immigration attitudes, while Blackbird was inspired by the experiences of women in the Civil Rights Movement. Then there’s Sam Cooke’s A Change is Gonna Come, several works by Bob Dylan, Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On, Billie Holiday’s haunting Strange Fruit, and Edwin Starr’s War, all of which offer insights into the social struggles of their time.
Music and musicians have also played pivotal roles in bringing international pressure to bear on oppressive regimes, such as in the case of apartheid South Africa. Rebellion in music has flowed from R&B and soul to rock and roll, punk in the 1970s, and into today’s hip-hop, rap, and grime. Let’s not forget that we’re the same nation that saw the Sex Pistols release God Save the Queen during the Queen’s Jubilee. In more recent times, Kendrick Lamar and Childish Gambino have tackled themes surrounding Black Lives Matter, while UK-based artists such as Stormzy have spoken out against austerity, institutional racism, and the Grenfell Tower tragedy. Sam Fender, meanwhile, often reflects on the struggles of working-class men. However, some might argue that these contemporary examples, though politically aware, are more subdued compared to the protest anthems of the past.
Then we have acts like Kneecap, who have taken things back to the raw, confrontational style of yesteryear. Their protest against a genocide has been labelled controversial, not least due to a remark about killing an MP. While such a comment is unacceptable and cannot be condoned, it’s hard to ignore the extent to which it has served as a distraction from their more substantive messages. Their anti-British stance, coupled with a successful campaign to promote and protect the Irish language, represents a genuine political challenge for the UK Government—one they’ve encountered before and lost.
The Irish are no strangers to protest in recent music, with the late Sinéad O’Connor being one of the most powerful examples. When Kneecap recently teamed up with Fontaines D.C. for a London concert, it became one of the few events in recent times where simply attending allowed one to engage in protest. The acts led the crowd in chants for a free Palestine, as well as more colourful criticisms of the political elite. Yet, they managed to do so without causing any police investigations, in stark contrast to prior controversies.
Still, Glastonbury has sparked some deeply concerning developments. Following Bob Vylan’s performance and the subsequent outcry surrounding their chant about the IDF, the BBC dedicated more coverage to the fallout than to the actual events occurring in Gaza. The broadcaster has since announced it will no longer stream “high-risk” acts live, stating it should not have streamed Bob Vylan’s set at all. Yet what exactly constitutes “high-risk” remains vague, and there’s no clarity on who gets to make that determination.
In the lead-up to Kneecap’s performance at Glastonbury, Keir Starmer stated in an interview that he didn’t believe their appearance was appropriate. This was echoed by Scottish First Minister John Swinney, who later supported their removal from the TRNSMT Festival in Glasgow. The festival claimed Police Scotland could not guarantee the band’s security. However, no one has taken direct responsibility for the decision—read into that what you will.
Politicians attempting to silence artists simply because they disagree with them is a slippery slope. This is not about offhand comments made years ago about Tory MPs. This is, quite evidently, about Gaza and a broader political context that some would rather not see reflected in public discourse. What we’ve witnessed is not merely backlash—it is a concerted effort to censor and de-platform an influential group whose message challenges those in power.
This is censorship, pure and simple. Free speech is a protected right, and that includes the right of artists to express themselves, even if they’re being broadcast on national television. We are entering dangerous territory when those in the highest positions of power begin to meddle in the realm of art and music. Once the door is opened to censorship based on political discomfort, we begin to erode the very foundations of a free society with art to show for it.
