After NATO Secretary General, Jens Stoltenberg, announced on April 14 2021 that the alliance had decided to withdraw its troops from Afghanistan, Taliban forces almost immediately launched an aggressive offensive against the Afghani government, quickly capturing the capital city of Kabul on August 14 that same year.
In an instant, life changed in the country, and musicians (and other artists) were among those in fear of attacks on their artistic expression and loosing their livelihood as working musicians.
Now, roughly two years into the second Taliban era, many musicians find those concerns to be true.
Faisal (whose full name we don’t use for safety reasons) is one of these artists. He has always believed that music could be a tool towards peace, harmony and love, but under the current circumstances he is forbidden from practicing his art.
When Faisal was a young boy, he heard something that moved him deeply. He described to me how he walked into a room, seeing a lady play an old Afghan song on the piano. He found the music and the whole encounter to be something very beautiful and comforting.
Finally the day came where he started learning to play the piano under the guidance of Mr. Haroon Halimi. Later he started playing professionally in collectives and bands such as Chakawak, Dawood Niga, West Youths and others.
At a young age, Faisal was quickly establishing himself as a sought after pianist, for live concerts and studio recordings alike, and with his music playing he used to be able to support himself and his family. That is, before the fall of Afghanistan.
Faisal tells me that he believes all artists should have the freedom to practice their passion and make a living for their families. He hopes that by sharing his story he can help create a change in his country that, before the long conflict, was a colorful place filled with an immense amount of beautiful history and culture.
“I wish for a brighter future, where music can heal wounds, inspire unity and allow artists to freely serve their communities.
– Faisal, Afghan musician
For the time being Afghan artists must wait, in hope for things to change, and pray they don’t get hurt in the process. In solidarity, we can all pressure our own governments around the world to help relocate artists that are in particular risk for their lives.
If you are an artist at risk, in Afghanistan or elsewhere, there are several organisations which can possibly help in a variety of ways. Some are listed below.
France’s PAUSE: this program requires finding a host university or institution in France.
Safety and Risk Mitigation Organization: SRMO is offering psychosocial support and safety training for Afghan HRDs in the country and launching a website where individuals can access secure resources in real-time. Email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Madre provides the following resources to Afghan Human Rights Defenders: Human rights violation documentation training, Relocation Guide, Resources Manual. Email email@example.com.
This article was written by an anonymous Cuban author under the pseudonym of Luis Rodriguez and translated by Laura Dunne.The article is republished here in accordance with the media partnership between Global Voices and Shouts.
Try as we might to be optimistic in describing Cuba’s current social landscape, it really is bleak. The inhabitants of the island are emotionally and psychologically drained. With unprecedented inflation, the dollarization of the economy, supply and medicine shortages, endless blackouts, increased insecurity and social inequalities, or worse still, the regime’s systematic repression of those who speak out, analysts agree that this is the greatest crisis Cuban society has faced since the collapse of the Soviet Union (USSR).
However, thanks to the activism of artists in Cuba and their diaspora within the U.S. in recent years, beacons of light now instill a greater sense of hope in this bleak landscape. These artists speak out on behalf of the millions of Cubans denied their basic right to free speech by the country’s regime.
Several talented artists have released various mobilizing songs throughout the years. Let’s not forget Nuestro Tiempo (Ya Viene Llegando) (Our Time Will Come) in 1991 by Willy Chirino, a track to which millions of Cubans danced during Cuba’s difficult period in the 1990s. Chirino’s lyrics soon became an anthem for the balseros (rafters), who risked their lives trying to reach Florida’s shores. Nowadays, many Cubans become emotional just hearing it. Next up in 2021 came Patria y Vida(Homeland and Life), a song by artists and members of the San Isidro Movement (MSI), for example Luis Manuel Otero, who remains in prison today. This became a symbol of the anti-government social unrest on July 11, 2021, and sent shockwaves throughout the country. Today in Cuba, shouting out, “Patria y vida” is enough to land you in jail.
Just when it seemed as though Cuban artists’ voices had been silenced, two singers in exile in the U.S., Linier Mesa, and Dianelys Alfonso, known as “La Diosa” (“The Goddess”), released their song Cuba Primero (Cuba First), in Miami on April 16, 2023. Each scene of its music video, which truly hit home in Cuba, deals with the symbolic connotations of the country’s historic exodus events, like Operation Peter Pan in 1959 and the 1994 Cuban Rafter Crisis, thus highlighting their underlying emotional toll.
Just like Patria y Vida in 2021, which encouraged Cubans to protest, another Cuban song has now taken on the socio-political activism mantle. However, as protests in 2021 had led to over 1,000 political prisoners, Cuba Primero instead calls upon artists in Cuba and their diaspora to speak out on behalf of the many Cubans suffering in silence. This is a time of great polarization among Cuban artists. While some have chosen to be in compliance with the regime, others criticize this island’s current system. It is, therefore, extremely difficult for any Cuban artist to take a neutral stance.
As such, Cuba Primero is not only a protest song. It also urges us as humans, artists, and intellectuals to step outside our comfort zone, thus ending our passivity and speaking out about the daily ordeal that Cuban lives have become on this vast prison-like island. From this perspective, silence is also a form of complicity.
Activism and its mobilizing power could be a spark within this powder keg that Cuban society has become, especially among young people who regularly access audio-visual content on social media and YouTube. This is a major concern for regime ideologues and their spokespersons, like Michel Torres Corona, who hosts the Con Filo television program. For some Cuban activists, like playwright Yunior García, Con Filo is the “most despicable” program, owing to its continued attacks on activists and critics. In one of his most recent shows, Torres Corona slammed the Cuba Primero music video, by questioning its use of certain symbology, such as a shark to represent Fidel Castro.
While Cuba Primero may able to mobilize civil society, today’s circumstances are different from those of the 2021 protests. However, one thing the activists and the Cuban government do have in common is the battle of symbols raging between the regime’s narrative and the diaspora’s cultural output.
These tracks, from the classic Ya Viene Llegando to the more recent Patria y Vida and Cuba Primero, indicate the cultural ties between the island and its compatriots abroad becoming increasingly connected by a shared vision: the total and unconditional liberation of Cuban people from totalitarianism.
During these bleak periods, Cubans, therefore, don’t just suffer in silence; they also sing and dance to lyrics calling upon them to pursue their much sought-after freedom.
If you would like to listen to more Cuban protest songs, check out this Global Voices playlist on Spotify:
This article was written by Juliette Verlaque on February 7th, 2022, and originally published on the Artists At Risk Connection webpage. It is re-published here with permission. Juliette is a program assistant at the Artists at Risk Connection (ARC) and a graduate of Barnard College. PEN America leads the Artists at Risk Connection (ARC), a program dedicated to assisting imperiled artists and fortifying the field of organizations that support them. If you or someone you know is an artist at risk, contact ARC.
Amidst a deeply perilous time of insecurity in Afghanistan, when artistic expression itself is under threat, PEN America’s Artists at Risk Connection (ARC) is partnering with Art at a Time Like This, a nonprofit arts organization that provides a platform for free expression at times of crisis, to launch Before Silence: Afghan Artists In Exile, an online exhibition featuring nine multidisciplinary artists who have continued to create through the humanitarian crisis. The artists featured in the exhibition have made the difficult decision to leave Afghanistan and go into exile, many leaving their friends, families, dreams, and achievements behind. This article explores the history of persecution of artists in Afghanistan and the current state of artistic freedom of expression in the country following the takeover by the Taliban in August 2021.
On August 15, global news outlets reported that Kabul had fallen to the Taliban, only days after the US government began withdrawing troops from Afghanistan following a twenty-year occupation.
Within hours, our team at the Artists at Risk Connection (ARC) began receiving a flood of urgent requests from Afghan artists to help them flee the country or relocate to safety. These messages were full of desperation and fear – from artists of all disciplines who had gone into hiding, seen their houses ransacked by Taliban operatives, and feared for their lives and the lives of their families. Their only crime was to create art, and now they were seeking any possible path to escape the country.
A singer wrote: I really have no idea how to get out of this hell.
A painter wrote: They saw the paintings and said that according to Islamic law, you are not allowed to paint. You have to tear up the paintings and promise that you will not make images from now on, otherwise you will be punished … Now I do not paint and I do not know what the future will hold.
A visual artist wrote: Unfortunately, from the time I got into art, I was threatened so much that I was physically tortured several times and they even wanted to kill me. They said what I do is non-Muslim. They have broken my artwork and threatened me.
The Taliban has a long history of persecuting artists and censoring artistic expression entirely. When the militants ruled Afghanistan from 1996 to 2001, they enforced a strict version of Islamic law to ban all music (other than religious singing) and moving images. Portraits of living people were considered sacrilegious, as were books that depicted women with their faces uncovered or criticized the Taliban in any way. Taliban fighters looted the famed National Museum in Kabul several times and destroyed thousands of sculptures around the country.
The two decades after the Taliban’s fall saw a flourishing of art throughout the country. Production companies began to churn out movies and TV shows, comedians and singers entertained millions around the country, and graffiti became increasingly prominent in urban spaces. For many women, in particular, these years provided a previously unimaginable opportunity to work as artists without fear of retribution, from the first Afghan female street artist to the country’s first all-women’s orchestra.
Even so, some artists continued to face retaliation for their creative work, especially as the Taliban slowly but surely began to reemerge and take over districts around the country. This new generation of artists emerged during a time of continual insecurity, marked by tensions and conflict between international coalition forces, the Afghan government, the emerging Islamic State, and the remnants of the Taliban. Against this backdrop of insurgency and counterinsurgency, terror attacks and bombings were commonplace, including some that targeted cultural actors, such as the suicide bombing of the French Cultural Centre in 2014. By 2018, reports found that the Taliban was openly active in 263 districts in Afghanistan (70% of the country) and fully controlled 14 districts (4% of the country). At ARC, we began receiving desperate messages from threatened artists as early as 2019, even before the US first announced a date for its withdrawal, and we heard from a group of filmmakers that they were aware of a Taliban watchlist listing many artists and cultural workers.
But when Taliban insurgents took control of city after city across the country in a matter of weeks, and stunned the world with their systematic takeover of Kabul in mid-August, the threats reached a new and terrifying level. The future of countless artists in the country immediately became deeply uncertain – and fraught with danger.
“The Taliban believe art is a path to corruption and vice in society,” said Samiullah Nabipour, the former dean of the fine arts school at Kabul University, who was in hiding for two months before evacuating with his family in October. “The Taliban ideology is against art.”
For many Afghan artists, simply the act of being an artist is enough to cause them to fear for their lives. For those who were critical of the Taliban during the twenty years that they were not in power, the risks were even more immediate. Likewise, for many female artists, an immediate crackdown on women’s rights in Afghanistan – including the dismissal of female workers, moves to push women out of public life, and severe restrictions on education – placed them in a particularly dangerous situation.
“The future of countless artists in the country immediately became deeply uncertain – and fraught with danger.”
“I have deleted all my music and songs from my phone and am trying to stop talking about music,” said Habibullah Shabab, a popular singer from southern Afghanistan who was a contestant on an Afghan singing show. He now runs a vegetable stand to feed his family. “When I am alone listening to my songs, my previous videos and memories, I cry a lot in my heart that where I was before, and where I am now.”
At first, some international observers hoped that the Taliban, which has embraced innovations that it previously shunned such as television interviews and social media, would be less restrictive, particularly as it seeks to gain diplomatic recognition from other countries. However, the Taliban was quick to ban music in public, among other measures, and in the face of immediate reports of violence against artists – such as the abduction and ultimate murder of comedian Nazar Mhammed on July 18 and the execution of Afghan folk singer Fawad Andarabi on August 30 – many artists felt that they could take no chances.
Following the takeover, many Afghan artists began to engage in self-censorship or self-destruction of their works, burning books, smashing statues, and destroying paintings that they did not think the Taliban would approve of – as well as scrubbing their social media of any mentions of art and staying home rather than performing in public.
Omaid Sharifi, an Afghan street artist and founder of Art Lords, a grassroots street art initiative, who fled Kabul following the takeover, emphasized the particular feeling of devastation that such acts of self-destruction incur for artists. “The feeling of destroying a piece of art is not very far from losing a child, because it is your own creation. It is something you have memories with, something you’ve dreamed about,” he explained. “Suddenly you are putting fire to it – to all your dreams, your aspirations, your hopes.”
The Afghan artists who have contacted ARC – totaling more than 250 since August – are, more than anything else, desperately seeking ways to leave the country. Some have fled to neighboring countries, such as Pakistan and Iran, but many more remain in limbo in Afghanistan, unable to work as artists, and often unable to leave their homes for fear of being found and killed. An untold number of people lack the international connections often needed to obtain relocation, not to mention fundamental barriers such as lack of internet access or lack of a passport – and the lack of a functioning government that can provide such services. The country faces a looming humanitarian crisis, including famine, the collapse of the health-care system, and plummeting wages.
“The feeling of destroying a piece of art is not very far from losing a child, because it is your own creation. It is something you have memories with, something you’ve dreamed about. Suddenly you are putting fire to it – to all your dreams, your aspirations, your hopes.”
— Omaid Sharifi
Six months into the crisis, the path forward remains uncertain. Many of our partner organizations have been similarly inundated with far more requests than they can handle. ARC has worked to coordinate efforts between arts and human rights organizations and share direct resources with Afghan artists who contact us. For those trying to enter the US, there is a years-long backlog of applicants: the Special Immigrant Visa program, which is reserved for certain Afghans who worked for or were connected with the US government, already had a backlog of 18,000 applicants even before the crisis; more than 30,000 people have applied for humanitarian parole; and the traditional refugee entry process is also notoriously slow. There is a similar backlog in countries around the world, and anti-immigrant and anti-refugee sentiments remain rampant globally.
Although the failures and implications of the US pullout have long faded from the headlines, we must not forget that the entire future of arts and culture in Afghanistan is under peril. We must keep in mind the countless artists who remain in hiding in Afghanistan, as well as those who have been able to flee the country and remain in limbo, waiting for visas, residencies, and funding, their future as humans and as artists uncertain.
PEN America and Art at a Time Like This believe that the right to artistic freedom of expression is a human right. Afghan artists should be allowed to live, work and create freely, without fear for their lives or the lives of their families. We must stand with Afghan artists, today and every day.
BEFORE SILENCE: AFGHAN ARTISTS IN EXILE, an online exhibition featuring the work of nine multi-disciplinary Afghan artists who have continued to create in exile, launches February 8. We welcome you to engage with the exhibit and think about what it means to be both Afghan and an artist at a time like this. Read the full press statement from PEN America and Art at a Time Like This here.
By Juliette Verlaque, February 7, 2022. Juliette is a program assistant at the Artists at Risk Connection (ARC) and a graduate of Barnard College.