Tag Archives: activism

Members of Belarusian band behind 2020 protest songs receive draconian sentences

Their song ‘We are not a small nation” spread like fire.

Screenshot of YouTube video of the song ‘We are not a small nation’ by Tor Band from the YouTube channel Tor Musical Band. Fair use.

As the BBC reported, members of the Belarusian music group Tor Band were sentenced to years in prison at the end of October 2023.

This marks yet another escalation of a nationwide campaign against dissent that Belarusian leader Alyaksandr Lukashenka has been conducting for years.

The band’s leader, Dzmitry Halavach, was sentenced to nine years in prison. Another member, Yauhen Burlo, received an eight-year sentence, while third member Andrei Yaremchyk was sentenced to seven and a half years.

Tor Band actively participated in the protests against Belarus’s dictatorship and unfair elections in 2020. Their most popular song at the time, called “We are not small people” (Мы не народец), was one of the symbols of the uprising.  The musicians, together with their wives, were taken into custody at the end of October 2022. 

Before 2020, the Tor Band was already quite popular, performing in both Belarus and Ukraine together with famous rock and pop bands. During the election campaign and post-election protests, where Lukashanka’s victory was challenged by the opposition led by Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, the band’s songs were playing everywhere at opposition rallies. The BBC notes that at that time, “We are not small people” spread like wildfire. 

Here is the most popular Tor Band’s song at that time: “We are not small people.”

The lyrics of the song “We are not a small nation” are as follows:

We are not cattle, cattle and cowards,
we are a living people, we are Belarusians!
With faith in our hearts, we keep the formation,
the banner of freedom over our heads!  

Something has happened, something is wrong, 

something has broken in our heads. 

My soul is very empty, faith is broken, 

there is only a stink around, of any size. 

But the garbage can is full to overflowing, 

well-fed and stupid, you are waiting for an order 

when they tell you to beat your people, so the sick puppeteer wished. 

I believe, I believe, I believe that…. 

We are not cattle, cattle and cowards, 

we are a living people, we are Belarusians! 

With faith in our hearts, we keep the formation,

 the banner of freedom over our heads! 

Where is our conscience? Really sold? 

I’m afraid my answer will be very banal. 

We began to be afraid, afraid, trembling, 

we were taught to snitch again. 

And if  something happens:

“My hut is on the edge, I haven’t seen, I haven’t heard, I don’t know for sure!” That’s what a moral freak does, 

but not the native Belarusian people. 

I believe, I believe, I believe that…  

We are not cattle, cattle and cowards, 

we are a living people, we are Belarusians! 

With faith in our hearts, we keep the order, 

the banner of freedom over our heads!

After the protests were brutally crushed by the Lukashenka dictatorship, the band was warned to not organize concerts or release new songs.  However, the band’s leader, Dmitry Golovatch, said in an interview with local media in September 2020:

We didn’t have any questions about whether to continue playing. We had songs that we wanted to release: the tracks “Long Live,” “Who, if not you.” There was tremendous support. We made so many friends all over the country! In general, it seems to me that Belarusians have learned to love themselves. There has never been such a feeling of love, and the feeling of patriotism is now going wild. We got to know our country

Lukashenka’s repression has came for the band in October 2022. Their songs, including “Long live Belarus,” were deleted from their popular YouTube channel, and the musicians were detained

The BBC cited Viasna’s Human Rights Center lawyer, Pavel Sapelka, saying that the musicians received “an unprecedented prison sentence for creativity.”

Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, the exiled opposition leader from Belarus, whose husband is serving an 18-year prison term, said on social media: “Lukashenka’s regime shows its fear. Music can be silenced in courts, but never in our hearts.”

This article was written by Daria Dergacheva and originally published on the Global Voices website on 27 February 2024. It is republished here under the media partnership between Global Voices and Shouts – Music from the Rooftops! and a CC BY 3.0 Deed license.


Amplifying humanitarian perspectives through music: An interview with Fold.

The Fold crew is here to remind us that there are good things in this world that are worth fighting for.

FOLD — from left to right: Sam Hutchison, James Child, Seth Mowshowitz and Phil Hepworth

Out of Leeds, UK, comes a rather unique kind of band. It’s impossible to lock their music in a genre box and throw away the key, but what is possible is to understand what they stand for. Their website states clearly that they are a music collective who’s goal is to “amplify undervalued perspectives and critical reflections on today’s world.”

With the help of guest MC’s, poets, and sometimes aided by sound bites from thinkers, writers, journalists, the Fold crew uses its talents to add a positive, critical and constructive commentary into today’s rather awful looking society.

Halldór Kristínarson: The world is looking pretty bleak at the moment. What makes you feel hopeful or positive these days?

Band Members: For us as a group, humour and laughter are key. Our music is quite emotional and usually deals with serious subjects but in between we’re always finding ways to make each other laugh. If you ever come to our gigs the banter is almost like a miniature standup comedy show woven into cracks of the set. We send each other silly GIFs & videos all the time in our group chat.

As bell hooks said: “We cannot have a meaningful revolution without humour. Every time we see the left or any group trying to move forward politically in a radical way, when they’re humourless, they fail. Humour is essential to the investigative balance that we need to deal with diversity and the building of community.”

Seth Mowshowitz: It really is looking bleak, that can’t be denied. You have to embrace it, but not all the time. Finding a balance of dipping in and out the news cycle is essential. I do things every day for at least an hour that keep me mindful and stop me from ruminating. That includes tending a fire in my wood-burner on cold days, playing nerdy collectible card games from the 90s, reading and above all working on music.

What gives me hope personally most of all are my kids (11 & 15) because they have become such wonderful, decent human beings despite the world they’re having to grow up in. Another thing that gives me hope is the fact that we are finally seeing the cracks start to show in the façade of public discourse. The ongoing genocide in Gaza, as horrible as it is, has not only radicalised a generation but also opened the eyes of more than ever before to the hypocrisy of mainstream narratives, the western political establishment and the system as a whole that cannot be closed again.

HK: Has your music always been made in protest, or with a conscious message?

BM: Yes, from day one. We describe ourselves as being dedicated to amplifying humanitarian perspectives and critical reflections on today’s world. It took 12 years to come up with that summary [laughs]. It is about communicating complex subjects through the democratisation of language—a kind of translation into something simpler, poetic and more evocative that people can connect with and relate to better than academic texts and political rhetoric. Sometimes that takes the form of carefully edited interview snippets, or poems, or MCs rhyming bars or just good old song lyrics. We consider ourselves a collective in that we invite many different voices into the Fold (see what we did there) in order to represent as diverse a range of perspectives as possible.

Cover for the single ‘Forever War’

HK: With your latest track, titled Forever War, you mention how recent horrors in Gaza drove you to write that song. But singing against, and simply being against, the military-industrial complex seems, at least to an outsider like myself who is from a country without a military, to be a very complicated thing. The military looks almost like a religious entity in certain countries and it seems to me, that for some countries, it is almost a blasphemy to speak bad of ‘the troops‘. What is your experience of using your voice, critizising the military and the government funding it? Or your experience from observing dissidents who do so?

BM: That’s a big question. To the first part about speaking bad of the troops, we would never disrespect the soldier. We recognise that aside from the victims on the receiving end of war the people who pay the highest price are the soldiers who fight it. We have enormous respect for anyone who believes in the cause of fighting for their loved ones and enlist for that reason, or, as is often the case in the US among underprivileged groups, when it is the only road to a subsidised education or providing for loved ones. The sad truth is that the soldier is more often than not being manipulated as a disposable pawn in a game for profit by the military-industrial complex which has zero regard for the value of human life, whether that of the soldier or the civilian casualty. In his book War Is a Racket (1935) General SD Butler argues that a major part of how we can ‘smash the war racket’ is to invest those who are actually going to fight the war with the exclusive ability to vote on whether or not war should happen via a limited referendum. We reckon that’s a very good idea.

What we’re criticising is the close relationship between defence contractors, the military chiefs and the politicians—that which comprises the military-industrial complex and exists in all countries that have a large enough defence budget, the US being by far the largest. Our argument is that this institution—again particularly in the US—has become so powerful that it now produces unnecessarily vast amounts of arms and lobbies governments to enable as many wars as possible that go on for as long as possible in order to sell as many of their largely unnecessary arms as possible. They push for wars without any clear conditions that would lead to their conclusion, which is what the term forever war refers to. In other words, these endless wars are being increasingly facilitated by the very industry that benefits most from them and resulting in more and more situations like Gaza or Ukraine.

In terms of our experience in using our voice to criticise the military-industrial complex, we seem to occupy a strangely safe ground. We’ve had no backlash whatsoever. It may well be that we haven’t reached a wide enough audience to be noticed by the more toxic elements within the discourse. It may also be that our existing audience expects exactly this from us. We’re nowhere near big enough yet to pose any kind of threat to the edifice of warmongering and profiteering.

Seth: As far as other dissidents who have spoken out against the machinery of war, I immediately think of whistleblowers Julian Assange, Edward Snowden and especially Chelsea Manning. I protested against the treatment of at least two of them outside the Magistrate’s Court in London when I still lived there. They were all direct threats to the global intelligence community, which is a scary place to be, and you could see from their treatment just how risky it is to pose any kind of substantial threat to those in control of that world. I’ve known this for a long time having studied the history of US-Latin American relations in university and having grown up with Chileans who were wanted by and escaped from the Pinochet regime. I’m an unusually anti-imperialist American in that respect.

HK: The video for the song is definitely uneasy to watch. But it‘s just real images of what we humans are capable of. Yet, I understand some people get upset with such things and prefer to not see the horrors. How has the reception to Forever War been so far and to your protest music in general?

BM: We worried about this when we released the video, which is why we made it 18+ on YouTube. TikTok removed one of the two excerpts we uploaded for violating community guidelines due to the images of genocide and Nazi rallies. We didn’t appeal. On the whole, again, the exposure has been so minimal that it hasn’t really mattered. The feedback we’ve had so far is incredibly positive. The video does at least successfully communicate what we wanted it to even if it is highly doubtful that it’ll get significant exposure. We have absolutely no doubt that it would deeply offend someone if it was shown to enough people but if that sparks thought and emotion that leads to discussion then we’ve done our job properly.

We’ve been doing this a long time now, since around 2012. The overall response in that time has been overwhelmingly positive. A few times during our live performances news of world events filtered into the room and certain tracks were able to reflect the zeitgeist in those moments, appealing to our shared humanity and connecting us to the audience in a profound way. There was this powerful sense of a collective consciousness that could be overwhelming at times. Moments like that have made the entire project worthwhile.

We’ve been fortunate in never having played to an audience that wasn’t receptive to our approach. That may well be partly down to working consistently with promoters and venues that are appropriate to our type of music (they wouldn’t book us at children’s parties), partly down to luck and partly down to the approach itself. We’re not telling people what to do or how to feel, we’re simply reflecting those parts of the world that most of us find difficult to look at.

HK: Why can music be such an effective form of protest?

BM: The synergy of words and music has the capacity to unite people, to galvanise movements and to give a voice to the voiceless that connects on both an intellectual and emotional level more than words or music alone. The reasons for this are enormously complex & fascinating. There’s a wonderful, illuminating book called The World In Six Songs that explains how our brains have evolved to be musical and the many—often undervalued—functions and roles music plays in our individual and societal make up. For instance, before the written word, music was used as a primary means of encoding information such as sacred ancestral stories. It is far easier for our brains to remember lengthy texts when set against a sequence of repeated musical patterns. Drums have been used since the dawn of civilisation to coordinate action, especially in combat to intimidate opponents. We could go on for days about this.

When it comes to capturing and expressing the zeitgeist—especially when the zeitgeist is being simultaneously hijacked and deformed to fit nefarious agendas by corporate media and politicians—few things can match the synergy of words and music. The right song at the right time can lend expression to an entire generation and unite them under its banner. Within that song, the right language at the right time can provide people with a means of easily sharing a complex perspective with others, thereby expediting the spread of that perspective. This happened numerous times on a massive scale in the 60s and 70s especially.

However, since the reliance on social media and streaming platforms to amplify our music has become so ubiquitous we have begun to wonder whether or not certain algorithms play a substantial role in suppressing those perspectives that are deemed a threat to mainstream narratives and power structures.

Whenever we release music, particularly if it deals with very difficult subjects like our latest single Forever War, it is extremely tricky to discern the difference between people simply not connecting with the music versus algorithmic suppression of the content. The fact that there are so few No. 1 hits in the history of these streaming platforms (roughly over the last 3 decades) that amplify controversial humanitarian perspectives, or more traditionally could be called protest songs, says an awful lot. Only Childish Gambino’s This Is America managed to buck the trend and that was largely due to word of mouth and a visually-led campaign in the form of a brilliant video that went viral. Only a handful of No. 1 hits in the past 3 decades have had substantial social or political subject matter. 2020 sparked a surge in protest music but virtually none of that made it ‘big.’

Of course there’s always been a direct human factor in this kind of suppression. Music that is overtly sociopolitical has long held a certain stigma in music media with the occasional exception breaking through such as Rage Against the Machine. Also one key difference between physical sales and streaming is that the former requires a higher degree of agency in the listener. They have to go out and buy the music in order to listen to it. The way that people consume music now is much more ephemeral, throw-away and reliant on algorithms or curators to choose it for them. It is a much more passive kind of listening and therefore easier to control.

Photo retrieved from the band’s website.

HK: Who are your musical inspirations? Do you follow other contemporary protest musicians or conscious artists that you‘d like to give a shout out to?

Seth: Sooooo many. Longer term: Public Enemy, Black Sabbath, Sepultura, Arthur Verocai, Gilberto Gil, Caetano Veloso, Marvin Gaye, Curtis Mayfield, Sly & the Family Stone, James Brown, War, Bob Marley, Nina Simone, Black Thought, Stereolab, Radiohead, Lali Puna, Bikini Kill and Rage Against the Machine to name a few.

Recent inspirations: Kendrick Lamar, Brother Ali, Lowkey, Childish Gambino and some of Dave’s earlier stuff like Question Time.

Smaller, local acts: Oakley Riot, Broken Opium Table and the Commoners Choir.

HK: If music was not your greatest passion, what would you be doing to make the world a better place?

Seth: Because I’m autistic (undiagnosed) along with both of my children (diagnosed) I am a constant advocate for better understanding of neurodivergence. I’d probably be more focused on that if I wasn’t so absorbed with music. A lot of what I do outside of music could be classed as delivering social commentary. I guess a big part of my raison d’être is to try and help make sense of this crazy world for myself and others. I also spent many years as a professional web designer for charities. I do love design and I am quite passionate about the role of design in improving people’s lives. More than anything else though I think I’d probably focus on writing.

HK: What‘s on the horizon for the Fold crew?

BM: We only just came back to gigging towards the end of 2023 after a 3.5 year, pandemic-imposed hiatus. The two gigs we did in September and November were fantastic craic, loads of people came and we all had a fabulous time. So this year we are doing more gigs for sure. The next one is at The Old Woollen in Leeds on March 21 in fact, and our 3-piece horn section—who haven’t been on stage with us for a very long time—will be there too.

We are currently planning a few experimental live performances (TBC) including a hybrid live podcast show where we balance segments of speaking to / with the audience and live music. Also, we’re looking to bring other kinds of performers on stage including a Shibari artist.

We’re always writing new material as well. The plan is to hire a little cottage in the middle of nowhere and record the next batch of tracks in the coming months. We’ve had a run of 6 single releases since the last album to keep up momentum so we are overdue a more substantial release and that will definitely be happening this year.

HK: People are reading from around the world. Anything else you‘d like to shout from the rooftops?

BM: We love the notion of people checking in from all over the world, it never gets old. Despite how bleak things look today the world is still a wonderful, beautiful place full of amazing people. Our diversity and sense of community are our greatest strengths. What is worth shouting? Never give into fear or despair. There is always hope. Let us work together to end all forms of domination from a place of love.

“The imperial need for control is so desperate because it’s so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear.”

— Nemik’s manifesto (Andor / Star Wars)


Through Cable Street Beat, music became a potent antifascist weapon against the far right

The Cable Street Mural by Dave Binnington Savage, Paul Butler, Ray Walker and Desmond Rochfort (1979 – 1983). Amanda Slater/Wiki Commons, CC BY

Alexander Carter, University of Birmingham

In the 1980s, Britain’s far right was on the rise. Fascist parties fielded over 100 candidates in the 1983 general election. And culturally, the far right was also making ground.

“White power” bands like Skrewdriver and Peter and the Wolf began drawing sizeable crowds and selling thousands of records. In 1987, Skrewdriver’s frontman founded Blood & Honour, a music network that soon gained followers and branches throughout the US and Europe.

Blood & Honour’s emergence caused tremors among the UK antifascist movement. Anti-Fascist Action (AFA), the dominant antifascist group of the time, struck back with their own musical network: Cable Street Beat (CSB).

This is the story of how music became a battleground in the 1980s and 1990s, as antifascists fought fascism with guitars and microphones.

Cable Street Beat

Cable Street Beat was named after the antifascists’ celebrated victory over Oswald Mosley’s Blackshirts. Before the second world war, British MP Oswald Mosley had commanded a growing fascist movement that had been fiercely resisted by antifascists.

On October 4 1936, Mosley amassed his Blackshirts to march through the East End of London. However, around 100,000 militant antifascists gathered on Cable Street to oppose them, ultimately preventing the fascists’ march.

The first CSB gig was held on October 8 1988 at the Electric Ballroom in London. Newtown Neurotics, The Men They Couldn’t Hang and punk poet Attila the Stockbroker electrified a 1,000-strong crowd

Black and white photo of Oswald Mosley

British MP Oswald Mosley commanded a growing fascist movement. National Portrait Gallery

On October 4 1936, Mosley amassed his Blackshirts to march through the East End of London. However, around 100,000 militant antifascists gathered on Cable Street to oppose them, ultimately preventing the fascists’ march.

The first CSB gig was held on October 8 1988 at the Electric Ballroom in London. Newtown Neurotics, The Men They Couldn’t Hang and punk poet Attila the Stockbroker electrified a 1,000-strong crowd.

Crucially, the audience also heard a powerful speech from Solly Kaye, an antifascist veteran of the actual Battle of Cable Street five decades earlier. Kaye warned the assembled concertgoers that fascist “songs” were “poison put into the minds of young people”.

Brendan, an AFA and CSB organiser and horn player with antifascist punk band the Blaggers, described to me how CSB was needed: “Firstly as a way to draw people who might be attracted to the far right into a more progressive type of politics … Secondly it was needed to bring people together from different cultures. Thirdly, just to stick two fingers up to the far right.”

The power of punk

CSB drew energy from the UK’s frenetic punk scene. Bands such as the Angelic Upstarts, Snuff and Yr Anhrefn all enthusiastically took up CSB’s cause. They shared the stage with antifascist activists who gave rousing speeches.

Punk poet Attila holds a microphone in one hand and beer in the other.

Punk, and in particular the working-class focused, aggressive Oi! subgenre and related skinhead subculture, was an area that the far right had long tried to colonise.

Blood & Honour wanted to believe otherwise, but the skinhead movement (which originated in the 1960s) had roots in Jamaican culture and reggae. Indeed, few skinheads had any interest in white power.

Punk poet Attila the Stockbroker in 2018. Madchickenwoman/Wiki Commons, CC BY-SA

“If far-right politics helped inform the identity of some within the … skinhead subculture,” says historian Matthew Worley, “then the vast majority resisted and rejected the substance of the fascist message.”

CSB gained considerable ground in this battle. High-profile bands like The Specials and The Selecter played benefit gigs. Multiple other bands – including The Oppressed, Knucklehead and Spy Vs Spy – put out AFA fundraising CDs.

Thomas “Mensi” Mensforth, the charismatic lead singer of the Angelic Upstarts’ (who sadly passed away in 2021), even narrated an AFA documentary produced for the BBC in 1993.

Unity Carnivals

CSB’s most high-profile strategy was its Unity Carnivals. The first, held in Hackney Downs Park in 1991, attracted 10,000 attendees. This made it the biggest public antifascist event in a decade. Bands including Gary Clail’s On U Sound System, The 25th of May and The Blaggers kept the vast crowds dancing all day under the banner of antifascism.

But the partying was punctuated with serious political rhetoric. Throughout the day activists gave speeches and handed out flyers. Brendan was part of the team that organised the carnival.

“It’s a cliché,” he told me, “but that carnival really did unite people. It brought a really diverse crowd together in Hackney and really got the political messages across.”

Two more carnivals followed: another in Hackney in 1992 and one in Newcastle in 1993, where The Shamen headlined with their chart-topping song Ebeneezer Goode.

Freedom of movement

CSB was wound down in the early 1990s. Nevertheless, music remained a central element of AFA’s activism.

By the early 1990s, electronic dance music had taken off in the UK. Antifascists immediately saw the potential and in Manchester local DJs and AFA set up the Freedom of Movement campaign in 1993 to mobilise these ravers. AFA’s magazine, Fighting Talk, declared Freedom of Movement’s aim was to “politicise the previously apathetic dance club scene, raising issues of racism and fascism”.

From 1993 to 1996, AFA put on a series of antifascist club nights in cities from Edinburgh to London. They also released an AFA benefit album, This is Fascism, featuring prominent DJs and producers including Carl Cox, Drum Club and Fun-Da-Mental. The Blaggers had close links to AFA, playing multiple benefit gigs.

Fascism is on the march again. The far right in Italy, Argentina and the Netherlands have all recently experienced electoral victories. Many other countries – such as the US, Brazil and India – have experienced explosions in far-right activity.

Findings from my own research and others’ demonstrate that fascists are adept at using culture to achieve their goals. It enables them to transmit their hateful ideology, generate money and forge networks across countries.

But the successes of CSB and AFA provide us with valuable lessons. Music can send a powerful message and mobilise hundreds of thousands to resist racism. Its emotive nature can change listeners’ worldviews, and help create a shared culture that is antithetical to the far right’s divisive goals.

This is an area where antifascists can make real gains against their foes: uniting antifascism and music is a tried-and-tested method for winning over the hearts and minds of people against hatred.


Alexander Carter, Research Fellow, University of Birmingham

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.