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.”
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.
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.
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.”
My friend, the musician, is hiding from violent forces, when all he’d like to be doing is teach and perform music.
Photo courtesy of the artist.
“My friend, I want to die decently in my bed. Of iron, if possible, with Holland linen. Do you not see the wounds I have from my chest up to my neck?”
(From Romance Sonámbulo by Lorca)
For the past months I have been communicating with a man whom I now call my friend (and who for security reasons I will refer to as HZ). A man whose passion for art tears through in every message he writes to me. A man who fiercely believes in the power of music and its healing capabilities. A man who, after years and years of living in limbo in hostile Afghanistan, experiencing torture and unjust imprisonment, waiting for the world to give a helping hand, still has hope in his heart that art and love will prevail.
HZ wrote a letter to the world, which has been edited for translation reasons and clarity and from which, fragments can be read throughout this article. HZ’s beautiful music can also be heard throughout the article.
“City Without Throbbing” by HZ.
My friend is not originally from Afghanistan but some years ago he escaped to there after being imprisoned and harassed by his own government in Iran. The only thing he did wrong, in the eyes of the powerful, was to voice his opinion. Using his voice, in public and in music, led to him being arrested and suffering unspeakable things in prison. War-torn Afghanistan, at that time, became a safer place for him.
Homeland is another name for displacement, displacement is another name for homeland.” Every day many lands are drowned in black waters, they die on the shores of Tunisia, they are shot at the border of Turkey, they are quarantined on the Greek islands, they dry in trucks like pieces of meat, and what is buried may not be displacement, but the concept and meaning of the name land, homeland. And it is the house that dies. Without a future, without a home, without a homeland, insecure, without bread and freedom, on the verge of death, the one who speaks to you is me, little Iran, another name for displacement. Maybe this is my last word for you, but I use it with the last bit of strength that I still have, a handful of words to shout in praise of freedom.
While in Afghanistan, HZ, a long-time student of Persian master Mohammad Reza Shajarian, started teaching music to children, especially to young girls. He established an all-girls choral group that performed hymns and musical theater and he collaborated with an animal aid center and the Afghan Literary Association. He further created cultural and artistic television programs and musical theater works with young girls.
All these activities were voluntary.
After years of fear and hiding, I throw away my fear and doubt and scream again and again. Because a person trapped in such a world has nothing to lose. I wish words were enough to explain the suffering of slaps, beatings, humiliation, cursing and all kinds of tortures and rapes in the prisons of Iran and Afghanistan for the crime of seeking freedom or looking to obtain a document for the right to live on such a large land. With this description, there is no escape other than taking refuge in this cry.
Today my friend is not that man. He is not teaching, but instead hiding. Not playing music, but instead quiet. Not creating, but instead escaping harm.
He is in a village that is not his home, but instead a refuge. The place that once was safer than his homeland, has now become uncertain grounds. After the Taliban reclaimed control over the country, a couple of years ago, he, as a musician and foreigner, is in grave danger.
One typical message exchange between us starts with me checking up on him, asking how it’s going that day. After his usual warm greeting, he sends back a photo of his bloody, wounded shoulder. He was attacked for simply wearing his homeland on his skin. Could have been worse if they’d known he was a musician.
Before I have lost my last strength to think and see and speak, I want to write about the death and psychological destruction of comrades, women and men, who perished under torture. I write about being humiliated in the streets. About sleeping hungry for weeks and being homeless. From being discriminated against because of my language, accent, type, and nationality, not only from a hostile people on the streets or authorities, but also from the people responsible for my refugee case at the United Nations. I am talking about unanswered letters to local, regional and global human rights officials. About being alone and awaiting death.
For years, my friend has been reaching out to people and branches within the UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees). He has sent countless applications to organisations that help at-risk artists. But today he is, painfully, still waiting for help. Without being able to work, and thus without being able to attend to his wounds, his health is deteriorating fast.
There are countless others like him. Countless artists, dissidents, activists, who only wish to provide for themselves and their family and color the world with their beautiful creations.
“The fence of life” by HZ.
My friend tells me that he does not fear death, for he knows art will prevail. Sharing his songs and his story here is but only a small thing. Getting to know HZ has become a privilege for me; his optimism, his deep love for art, and his friendship has enriched my life. No one should have to suffer through the experiences that have been put upon him and any country should be so lucky to have him augment their culture with his music and teachings. If you, who are reading this, would like to help my friend further, so he can seek medical attention and, eventually, reach safer grounds, please contact me at halldor@shoutsmusic.blog or via Shouts’ social media.
But I didn’t say these words to find sadness. I write to keep the cry of protest alive. I have written so that everyone knows who are responsible for my death if I die. In the end, I shake the warm hand of my fellow sufferers and other wounded relatives, around the world, and I end my letter with this sentence of Forugh Farrokhzad: