A few weeks ago, I asked in my column; where have all the protest songs gone? It seemed few musicians were commenting, with melodic accompaniment, on the state of the world.
The answer seemed to be that commercial interests had neutered music of political content. In the last few days, the media has questioned the value of music on politics via articles about Bruce Springsteen backing the Obama campaign with appearances and a song of support.
Certainly there is evidence of a reverse of this power equation. In northern Mali, rebel militia have declared a ban on music, saying it undermines strict religious adherence. They clearly fear the power of music. For Mali, this is the economic and social equivalent of cutting off their main export industry.
Toumani Diabate, the Malian kora player, known in the West for his work with Ry Cooder, Damon Alban and Bjork, describes culture as the "petrol and mineral wealth" of Mali.
Its music has won international acclaim, awards and recognition. Carried by musicians such as Tinariwen, Toumani Diabate, Rokia Traore and Ali Farka Toure, Mali's glorious sounds have become a major export. Now musicians are fleeing, pursued by threats of having their fingers cut off. Many have joined the 500,000 refugees now living in camps in Algeria. The threats of death appear to be aimed at killing off any musical resistance. To have such a fear of music must mean it has a power that requires control.
History has many recent examples of this fearful reaction. The Nazis banned anything composed or performed by Jews and anything critical of the regime. They reinforced their intent by sending those who challenged them to labour camps or simply shooting them. They then filled the gap with yodelling folk music that reinforced Aryan notions of nation and supremacy. While working as a musician in Europe years ago, I was on the same bill as a German folk singer who performed medieval songs of protest against the feudal hierarchy. I learned this music had been "deleted" from their musical history under Hitler as it was feared it might provoke resistance to the Nazi ideology.
Echoing that fear in more recent times, the military Government of Myanmar (Burma) imprisoned bands for singing lyrics critical of the regime. In Russia, criticism of Vladimir Putin by girl punk band Pussy Riot has seen them imprisoned.
While some governments have tried to ban what they see as the harmful influence of Western pop music, fearful it will undermine their authority, others have welcomed the colonisation of their own culture because it dilutes the power of indigenous folk music to articulate the issues of ordinary people.
Woody Guthrie is now regarded as a folk hero in the US but during the Great Depression, to sing This Land is Your Land was seen as a challenge to the wealthy ruling elite and, for a time, two of the middle verses that mentioned social injustice were left out of school songbooks - such is the power of song.
In Mali, music is regarded as integral to their culture. It has the richness and depth that comes from the accumulated layers of centuries of musical development. From here, it seems that the move by extremist groups to ban the joy of music will be like trying to catch lightning - they will only get burned.
Terry Sarten is a musician, writer and social worker.
Feedback email: tgs@inspire.net.nz