on militant writing
Mar. 9th, 2024 01:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dornishviperxI've decided to use this space as a blog in a more traditional sense instead of just a receptacle for dear creator letters, because i want a space to ramble that no one will really pay attention to.
Anyway, something I've been thinking about lately is how our experiences of revolutionary struggle and our convictions shine through in our art, and when it toes the line with propaganda. Or where that line even is, if there's even a difference.
I guess a lot of the time people talk about art as something that expresses a feeling or a thought or an idea, whereas propaganda is more specific in that it wants to convince its audience of its ideas. We had this conversation with some friends about a year ago, all of us radicals (well, at the time. One of them has since "gone home" as we say) and all of us artists. One of my friends is a musician, and he was talking about how he wanted his music to reflect his convictions, but not come across as propagandistic because he personally finds it boring to listen to propaganda (I think he's just tired of punks and the hiphop scene). He gave a few examples of musicians he felt struck that balance really well and I don't remember the whole list but I remember Silvio was on it. I think I'd add Tenemos Explosivos (beloved band of all time), thinking about it now.
All this to say: I think when we are revolutionary militants and we make art, we're always making propaganda to some degree. We can't avoid our convictions bleeding all over the page; in fact, even people who don't think they have strong political convictions are just blindly reproducing indoctrination. It's all over the place. I think that when we are intentional about making art as revolutionary militants, we have the opportunity to connect with the specific experience of being a militant on top of critical political reflections. The emotions connected to the struggle, grief (for people you know so deeply even though they died before you were even born!) to joy (even amidst loss, even from the inside of a prison cell!). Easily the best-received thing I wrote last year was No Return Address, which is written from precisely that place. It even has some very explicit political discussion. But the themes of revolutionary grief, of historical memory were very well-received both by people who come from militant backgrounds and people who don't (but in my opinion the people who don't have a militant background are missing out on a big chunk of it), which was a surprise to me. I do also think the benefit isn't only on the authentic emotionality of it. The Dispossesed is, like, a classic of militant literature, but I think its strength is in making us think much more than feel, because even though LeGuin's protrayal of Shevek is interesting and textured and we can connect with it on a human level, it is also transparently inviting us to reflect on an imaginary anarchist society and the contradictions that can still be present there.
Rambling, rambling, rambling. I think as revolutionary militants we do have a perspective that's going to bleed into what we write, all the time, and the way we connect with that is going to shape what our audience can draw form our work. And I think there's tremendous artistic value in propaganda.
Anyway, something I've been thinking about lately is how our experiences of revolutionary struggle and our convictions shine through in our art, and when it toes the line with propaganda. Or where that line even is, if there's even a difference.
I guess a lot of the time people talk about art as something that expresses a feeling or a thought or an idea, whereas propaganda is more specific in that it wants to convince its audience of its ideas. We had this conversation with some friends about a year ago, all of us radicals (well, at the time. One of them has since "gone home" as we say) and all of us artists. One of my friends is a musician, and he was talking about how he wanted his music to reflect his convictions, but not come across as propagandistic because he personally finds it boring to listen to propaganda (I think he's just tired of punks and the hiphop scene). He gave a few examples of musicians he felt struck that balance really well and I don't remember the whole list but I remember Silvio was on it. I think I'd add Tenemos Explosivos (beloved band of all time), thinking about it now.
All this to say: I think when we are revolutionary militants and we make art, we're always making propaganda to some degree. We can't avoid our convictions bleeding all over the page; in fact, even people who don't think they have strong political convictions are just blindly reproducing indoctrination. It's all over the place. I think that when we are intentional about making art as revolutionary militants, we have the opportunity to connect with the specific experience of being a militant on top of critical political reflections. The emotions connected to the struggle, grief (for people you know so deeply even though they died before you were even born!) to joy (even amidst loss, even from the inside of a prison cell!). Easily the best-received thing I wrote last year was No Return Address, which is written from precisely that place. It even has some very explicit political discussion. But the themes of revolutionary grief, of historical memory were very well-received both by people who come from militant backgrounds and people who don't (but in my opinion the people who don't have a militant background are missing out on a big chunk of it), which was a surprise to me. I do also think the benefit isn't only on the authentic emotionality of it. The Dispossesed is, like, a classic of militant literature, but I think its strength is in making us think much more than feel, because even though LeGuin's protrayal of Shevek is interesting and textured and we can connect with it on a human level, it is also transparently inviting us to reflect on an imaginary anarchist society and the contradictions that can still be present there.
Rambling, rambling, rambling. I think as revolutionary militants we do have a perspective that's going to bleed into what we write, all the time, and the way we connect with that is going to shape what our audience can draw form our work. And I think there's tremendous artistic value in propaganda.
